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b1nniecat · 27 days ago

Text

🎶 counterpoint 🎶

chapter III: resonance.

pairing: college!au park wonbin x fem!reader

content warnings: swearing

wc: 2.1k

masterlist | prev | next

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡

The campus café was packed, the low hum of chatter mingling with the hiss of steaming milk and the clink of ceramic cups. Y/N sat tucked into a corner booth, her notebook splayed open in front of her, a half-finished iced latte slowly sweating on the table.

The page was a mess of scribbled-out lines, arrowed rewrites, and faint coffee stains. Her pen hovered over the paper, fingers trembling slightly as she tried to form the next sentence.

“I was thinking we could build the song structure around a softer acoustic verse before leading into a stronger instrumental chorus—kind of like a gradual climb.”

Wonbin’s dismissive voice echoed in her mind.

“That’s basic. Everyone does that.”

Y/N gritted her teeth, crossing out yet another line.

Too cheesy.

Too dramatic.

Too basic.

The words spiraled in her head, layering over one another until her chest felt tight.

“Ugh,” she muttered under her breath, smacking her pen down on the table and leaning back in her seat. Her eyes scanned the café aimlessly, looking for anything—anything—to pull her out of this loop.

A couple laughed nearby, sharing a dessert. A student in the corner dozed off with his head resting on an open textbook.

But her gaze kept slipping back to her notebook.

Her lyrics had always been her safe space. A place where she could put her emotions into something tangible, where they’d make sense. But now every word felt hollow, every idea stale.

A chair scraped across the floor, and Y/N glanced up to see Ningning plopping into the seat across from her, a bright smoothie in hand.

“Well, you look like you’ve been through it,” Ningning said cheerfully.

Y/N let out a weak laugh. “Thanks.”

Ningning’s sharp eyes flickered to the chaotic scribbles in Y/N’s notebook. “Writing again?”

Y/N shrugged, closing the notebook with a soft thud. “Trying. Failing.”

“Creative block?”

“More like… creative self-loathing.”

Ningning hummed, tilting her head slightly. “Is this about—?”

“No,” Y/N said quickly, cutting her off. “It’s not about him. It’s just me. I’m just… stuck.”

Ningning raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. “Alright, we’re not spiraling today. Close the notebook. Take a breath.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, leaning back in her seat as Ningning pushed her smoothie across the table.

“Here. Try this. It’s supposed to taste like sunshine and rainbows or something.”

Y/N took the cup and sipped hesitantly. Her face scrunched up immediately. “Why is it so sweet? Did you order liquid candy?”

“Excuse me, this is peak beverage science. You just have boring taste buds.”

They both laughed softly, the tension in Y/N’s shoulders easing slightly. For a moment, it felt like the frustration clouding her head had cracked open, just a little.

Ningning’s gaze flickered back to the notebook, now closed but still sitting between them like an elephant in the room.

“Okay, serious question.” She leaned forward slightly, her voice softer now. “Are you stuck because you think your ideas are bad, or because someone else made you think they are?”

Y/N froze.

She opened her mouth, closed it, then shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“It kinda does.” Ningning poked her straw into her smoothie with exaggerated focus. “Because if it’s the second one, then he wins. And we don’t let broody boys with questionable social skills win.”

Y/N let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Because it is simple.” Ningning grinned, winking. “Now, are we gonna sit here and let you keep angsting, or do you wanna grab a snack and people-watch with me?”

Y/N hesitated for half a second before she nodded. “Alright. Snack run sounds good.”

“Attagirl.” Ningning stood up and motioned for Y/N to follow.

As they walked toward the counter, Ningning chattered about some guy in her econ class who pronounced “macroeconomics” like it was a new species of pasta. Y/N found herself smiling—not because her frustrations had disappeared, but because, for a moment, they didn’t feel so heavy.

But as they stood in line, waiting to order, Y/N’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She fished it out and glanced at the notification.

Y/N’s stomach flipped slightly, her thumb hovering over the notification before she locked her phone again and shoved it back into her pocket.

She sighed softly, shoving her hands into her pockets.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

The practice room was dim, the glow from the lone dusty lamp casting uneven shadows across the scratched wooden floor. Scattered sheet music and pencil-smudged lyrics lay abandoned around Wonbin, his guitar resting silently across his lap. His head was tilted back against the wall, eyes tracing faint cracks in the ceiling paint, his fingers motionless over the strings.

His mind wouldn’t quiet.

The same intrusive thoughts circled endlessly—the sharp edge in Y/N’s voice, the flicker of hurt in her eyes, the ghost of a conversation that felt like a stone lodged in his chest. And underneath it all, the ever-present weight of her. His ex. The lingering ache of words left unsaid and feelings left unresolved.

The faint sound of sneakers against the hallway floor reached him before the door creaked open. A mop of brown hair peeked in, followed by Seunghan’s lazy grin and Sungchan’s wide-eyed curiosity.

“There he is,” Seunghan said, stepping inside with a faint smirk. “The prodigal guitarist, lost in the void of his own thoughts.”

Sungchan followed, dropping his bag carelessly by the door and sliding onto the floor without hesitation. “You know, if you sit here long enough staring at the wall, it might start talking back.”

Wonbin didn’t move, his gaze still fixed somewhere far above them. “What do you guys want?”

Seunghan nudged a piece of crumpled sheet music with his foot before leaning against the edge of the table. “Honestly? To make sure you don’t turn into a piece of furniture in here.”

Sungchan propped his elbows on his knees, studying Wonbin carefully. “You’ve been here since, what, lunchtime? It’s dark outside now.”

Wonbin let out a faint sigh through his nose but didn’t respond.

Seunghan crouched by the table, leaning against it as he studied Wonbin’s face. “Alright, Bin. What’s the plan? Sit here until you grow roots or actually talk to us?”

“Not in the mood,” Wonbin muttered.

“No shit,” Sungchan said with a snort, tearing open his bag of snacks and tossing a chip into his mouth. “But, like, you’re also not in the mood to not think about it, so maybe just let it out. Otherwise, we’re all just wasting time.”

Wonbin’s fingers tightened slightly around the neck of his guitar. He didn’t look up.

“You already know what happened,” he said after a long pause, his voice low. “What’s the point?”

“The point,” Seunghan said, pulling a chair over and plopping into it, “is that you’re obviously still beating yourself up about it. And we’re here to… I don’t know, bully you out of your funk.”

Wonbin’s lips twitched faintly at that, but the small flicker of amusement disappeared almost immediately. “I was out of line,” he admitted softly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “She didn’t deserve that.”

“Well, duh,” Sungchan said, stuffing another chip into his mouth. “But, like… you’re human, Bin. You had a bad day. It happens.”

“It’s not just a bad day,” Wonbin shot back, his voice sharper now. “I—” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply as he leaned his head back against the wall. “I’ve been off for weeks. Since…”

He didn’t have to finish. The breakup. The ex. They both knew.

Seunghan tilted his head slightly. “You still hung up on her?”

“No,” Wonbin said quickly, too quickly. His hands flexed over the guitar again. “It’s not about her anymore. It’s just… everything. I feel like I’m carrying this weight that I can’t… I don’t know. I can’t drop it. Even when I want to.”

Silence hung heavy in the room for a beat.

“You lashed out because you’re tired,” Seunghan said finally, his tone softer now. “Not just physically, but, like… emotionally. And it’s okay to admit that. No one’s expecting you to be fine all the time.”

“Yeah,” Sungchan chimed in. “But also, you’ve got the self-awareness thing down already. You know you messed up, and you feel bad about it. That’s literally, like, 80% of the problem solved. You just need to do something about the last 20%.”

Wonbin frowned slightly. “Like what?”

“I dunno. Start by apologizing?” Sungchan said with a shrug. “She probably already thinks you hate her, but maybe if you, like… don’t bark at her tomorrow, it’ll help.”

Seunghan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “You don’t have to fix everything in one day, Bin. Just… don’t let it get worse. You care about this project, right?”

Wonbin nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“Then show her that,” Seunghan said simply. “Start there.”

Wonbin’s lips pressed into a thin line as he mulled over their words. He let out a slow breath, his fingers finally strumming the strings of his guitar once—soft, hesitant.

Seunghan stood up, clapping a hand lightly on Wonbin’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. Sungchan bought snacks, and I’m starving.”

Sungchan waved the bag of chips in the air. “Consider it an incentive.”

Wonbin hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the scattered papers on the floor, before finally standing up with a small sigh. “Fine.”

Sungchan grinned as he slung an arm around Wonbin’s shoulders. The three of them walked out of the practice room together, the dim hallway feeling just a little brighter.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly in the hallway as Y/N walked briskly, her tote bag swinging with each step. The evening chill lingered in the air, clinging to her skin even after the warmth of the library. Her headphones hung loosely around her neck, her mind still spinning from hours of studying and the earlier conversation with Ningning.

As she rounded the corner toward the dorm elevators, voices echoed faintly from the opposite direction. She glanced up instinctively and froze.

Wonbin.

He was walking a few steps behind two other guys, his head slightly down, hands stuffed into his hoodie pocket. One of them—tall, animated, with a lopsided grin—was laughing about something, his voice loud and carrying in the otherwise empty hall. The other nudged him lightly, grinning along.

Her pace faltered for half a second before she forced herself forward. Her gaze locked ahead, her expression steely, but her grip on the strap of her bag tightened.

The trio grew closer, their voices overlapping until one of them—not Wonbin—caught sight of her. The laughter died down abruptly, and their pace slowed.

Wonbin lifted his head just enough for his gaze to meet hers. He froze for a second—too long to be subtle—and she didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched.

The other two guys glanced between them, brows raised slightly, clearly picking up on the sudden tension in the air.

Y/N didn’t stop walking. Her eyes narrowed slightly, just enough to make her point. Her chin lifted a fraction higher as she passed them, not sparing even a glance at the other two.

“Hey,” one of the guys—the taller one, with the grin—said awkwardly, clearly addressing her.

Y/N didn’t respond.

The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable, stretching out as her footsteps echoed behind her.

Once she turned the corner, disappearing from view, Sungchan turned to Wonbin with an exaggerated blink. “Wait… was that—?”

Seunghan didn’t give him time to finish. “That was her, wasn’t it?” He covered his mouth with his hand, nudging Wonbin’s shoulder. “Dude.”

“Shut up,” Wonbin muttered, his shoulders stiffening visibly.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Sungchan held up a hand, his tone somewhere between teasing and incredulous. “That’s the girl you were talking about?”

Wonbin didn’t answer. His hands were still jammed in his hoodie pockets, his jaw tight as his gaze remained fixed ahead.

Seunghan let out a startled laugh. “Bro, she didn’t even look at you. That’s brutal.”

Wonbin let out a harsh exhale, dragging a hand down his face. “And here I thought you guys would take something seriously for once.”

“Alright, alright,” Sungchan said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “But, uh… have fun trying to mend whatever you managed to fuck up in the span of a day.”

Seunghan snorted. “Yeah, good luck with that. She looks ready to deck you next time.”

“I hate you both.”

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡

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🏷️ @sftsohee @wonychu

a/n: hi!! going to be a little busy in the upcoming weeks but thankfully i worked ahead and have chapters 4 and 5 in the drafts already :3 updates will be a little slow until i find the time to basically finish all chapters in one sitting. after that, it’ll be consistent posting!!

- b1nniecat (>ᴗ•) !

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b1nniecat · 1 month ago

Text

🎶 counterpoint 🎶

chapter II: staccato.

pairing: college!au park wonbin x fem!reader

content warnings: swearing

wc: 1.2k

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♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡

Y/N collapsed onto her bed the moment she returned to her dorm, her tote bag slipping from her shoulder and landing on the floor with a dull thud. The muffled sound of her groan was swallowed by her pillow, and for a moment, she stayed like that—face down, arms sprawled, utterly defeated.

Her phone buzzed insistently from where it sat on her nightstand. With a sigh, she reached for it blindly, the glow of the screen casting faint light across her tired expression.

The group chat quieted down after that, the last message from Giselle still glowing softly on the screen. Y/N tossed her phone onto her bed with a sigh, rolling onto her back and staring up at the ceiling.

The meeting replayed in sharp flashes—Wonbin��s clipped words, the edge in his voice, the way he barely looked at her except to deliver another curt remark.

It stung.

And what made it worse was how much it stung.

She’d spent weeks building up this harmless little crush on him, letting herself daydream during class about what kind of person he might be—what he might sound like when he laughed, whether his voice softened when he spoke to people he cared about.

But today had stripped all that away.

Y/N sighed, rolling onto her back and staring up at the ceiling. She was so not looking forward to their next meeting tomorrow.

Her gaze flickered toward her tote bag, where her laptop was still half-zipped inside. She debated just shutting her eyes and letting sleep take over, but the anxious itch in her chest wouldn’t let her.

With another sigh, she sat up, pulled her laptop out, and flipped it open.

”Work,” she told herself. “Just focus on the work.”

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

The screen dimmed after Wonbin sent his final message, his thumb hovering briefly over the keyboard before he locked his phone and set it face-down on the edge of his desk. The faint glow from his desk lamp painted golden edges onto the clutter of sheet music and tangled earphone wires scattered across the surface. His guitar sat propped up against the wall, its polished wood reflecting the soft light.

He leaned back in his chair, his head tipping upward as he let out a slow exhale. The quiet hum of the campus night filtered through the cracked-open window—a distant car passing by, faint laughter from somewhere below, the rustle of leaves in the wind.

His jaw tightened slightly as fragments of the morning replayed in his head: Y/N’s furrowed brows, the sharp edge in her voice, the way she had stood tall even when he had pushed too far.

Wonbin’s fingers twitched against his knee, and for a brief second, he reached out toward his guitar before stopping midway. His hand hovered there, uncertain, before dropping back to his lap.

He wasn’t proud of himself—not of the clipped words, the dismissive tone, the way he had let his frustration seep into every reply.

But then, there was that melody—the one she had hummed while packing her things.

It lingered in his head like the faint remnants of perfume on fabric, fragile yet persistent.

With a quiet sigh, Wonbin pushed his chair back and stood, moving toward his guitar. He picked it up carefully, settling the strap over his shoulder before plucking a few aimless notes. His brow furrowed as he tried to replicate the melody from memory, the sound soft and uneven under his fingers.

But it wasn’t quite right.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

Y/N sat cross-legged on her bed, her laptop perched precariously on her thighs. The dim glow from her desk lamp cast soft shadows on the walls of her dorm room. Her notes, scribbled haphazardly in blue and black ink, were scattered across the duvet. A half-empty cup of coffee rested dangerously close to the edge of her nightstand.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, the cursor blinking back at her from the nearly blank document. She had tried everything—scrolling through her playlists, rereading the notes from earlier, even stepping outside for a smoke—but nothing seemed to clear the frustrating block in her mind.

Every time she tried to focus, flashes of the group meeting from earlier crept back in: Wonbin’s snappy tone, his dismissive remarks, the subtle twitch of his jaw when she pushed back.

Her jaw tightened at the memory. She had walked into the project hoping for a clean slate, maybe even camaraderie, but the sharp edges of Wonbin’s attitude had left her feeling deflated. And now? Now she was stuck here, late at night, picking up the pieces while everyone else was probably fast asleep.

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair as she tried to refocus. Her eyes flickered to her phone, which sat face-up beside her laptop. She had considered messaging the group chat earlier to update them on her progress—or lack thereof—but hesitated. The last thing she wanted was to open the door to another round of tension with Wonbin.

But it was nearly 2 AM, and the silence in her room was becoming suffocating.

She grabbed her phone and opened the group chat, typing out a quick message before she could second-guess herself.

She stared at the message for a moment, debating whether or not to delete it. But before she could, the little "delivered" notification popped up, and she had no choice but to let it sit there.

Minutes passed. No response.

"Obviously, what were you thinking..." She mumbled to herself.

Y/N exhaled sharply, leaning her head back against the wall. The quiet buzz of the fluorescent light in the hallway hummed faintly through the door. She glanced at her laptop again, her vision blurring slightly from staring at the screen for too long.

And then her phone buzzed.

Her eyebrows lifted slightly at the notification, surprise flickering across her face. Of all the people in the group, Wonbin had been the last one she expected to reply - especially in the middle of the night.

She hesitated for a moment before typing back.

Wonbin leaned back in his chair, his phone still in hand. The faint glow of the screen illuminated his face as he reread the short exchange. The extra question marks in her first reply lingered in his mind.

He couldn't blame her.

With a sigh, he set his phone down and rubbed his eyes. The weight of the day hung heavy in his chest, but for the first time since the meeting, the knot in his stomach felt just a little looser.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡

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🏷️ @sftsohee

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b1nniecat · 1 month ago

Text

🎶 counterpoint 🎶

chapter I: dissonance.

pairing: college!au park wonbin x fem!reader

content warnings: swearing, reader smokes 🚬

wc: 2.7k

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♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡

The soft glow of Wonbin’s phone screen illuminated his face as he lay sprawled across his bed, one arm tucked under his head and the other holding his phone aloft. The faint hum of a playlist he wasn’t really listening to filled the quiet of his dorm room.

His group chat had been buzzing all evening, the notifications piling up faster than he could read them.

Wonbin smirked faintly, his thumb scrolling through the messages. The banter felt warm—familiar, like home.

His smirk faded as he felt his stomach twist at the sudden change in direction. His thumb hovered over the keyboard. He could feel their concern through the screen, but the knot in his chest tightened instead of loosening.

What was he supposed to say? That he couldn’t stop overanalyzing every conversation they’d ever had? That he’d read through their old messages trying so hard to find where it all changed? That he still heard her voice echoing in his head, replaying that “it’s not you, it’s me” line over and over?

He reluctantly typed out a response.

He locked his phone and tossed it onto the mattress beside him. The light from the screen faded, leaving him alone with the faint glow of his desk lamp and the ache behind his eyes.

The silence in the room pressed down on him like a heavy blanket, suffocating and restless all at once. He sat up abruptly, grabbing his guitar from where it leaned against his desk.

The wood felt familiar under his fingertips as he rested it against his chest, letting his thumb skim over the strings. No particular song came to mind, just fragmented chords and half-melodies stitched together by muscle memory.

His thoughts spiraled, uninvited and relentless.

How long had it been since he’d had a good night’s sleep? Since he’d gone to bed without the weight of doubt sitting heavy on his chest? The same questions replayed over and over in his mind, tangled threads of insecurity he couldn’t untie.

Was I too quiet? Too boring? Did she stop loving me because I wasn’t enough?

The dim glow of his desk lamp painted his shadow across the wall, and somewhere outside, the faint sound of a car passing by cut through the stillness. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the soft hum of the city, but it didn’t help.

His thumb stilled over the strings as his ex’s words echoed again in his head.

“I’m just… not interested anymore, sorry Bin. It’s really not you, it’s me.”

It had been weeks since that call, but her voice still clung to him like a bruise that refused to fade. The tired detachment, the way she’d sounded so far away even though she was right there on the other end of the line.

But then there was that post. That damned post.

A picture of a bouquet—roses, bright and vibrant, tied together with a satin ribbon. “My fav flowers from my fav one ❤️”

She’d told him she hated roses.

Had she lied about that, too? Or was it him? Was he the one she couldn’t love—not fully, not in the way he thought she did?

His fingers stilled on the strings, the sound of the final chord hanging in the stale dorm room air before dissolving into silence.

Somewhere along the way, time had slipped from his grasp. He had played, then stopped. Then played again. His guitar now sat silent on his lap, his mind still restless despite the ache in his eyes.

When he glanced back at his phone, the screen glared at him with the time.

4:12 AM.

“Shit.”

He set his guitar aside and leaned back against the headboard, tilting his head toward the ceiling with a heavy sigh.

The faint hum of the city outside his window filled the silence. Wonbin let his head fall into his hands, exhaustion creeping into every corner of his body.

But sleep didn’t come.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

The campus music room was drenched in pale morning light, golden beams pooling across the scratched wooden floor. Dust motes danced in the quiet air, accompanied by the faint hum of fluorescent lights. The faint smell of stale coffee and worn-out sheet music clung stubbornly to the walls.

Lina was the first to arrive, predictably so. Her laptop was already open, an array of highlighters and sticky notes spread out in a neat halo around her workspace. She tapped a rhythm on her desk with her pen, her face a picture of quiet determination.

“Morning, Eunseok!” she chirped when the door creaked open.

Eunseok strolled in, iced coffee in hand, his hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His composure was loose, unhurried, carrying the kind of casual energy that made it seem like he’d just rolled out of bed but was somehow still effortlessly put together.

“Morning, Lina. Early as always, huh?” He grinned.

“Someone has to keep us on track,” she quipped.

The door opened again not long after, and Wonbin walked in, his guitar case slung heavily over one shoulder. He looked… worn out. Shadows bruised the skin under his eyes, and his hair stuck out slightly in odd angles. He dropped his bag beside a chair and slumped into it without a word.

“Good morning, Wonbin!” Lina said brightly, her voice dipping slightly when he only offered a faint nod in return.

Eunseok’s gaze lingered on Wonbin briefly, his brow furrowing ever so slightly before he turned back to his drink.

A couple minutes passed before the final arrival came with a gust of cool air. Y/N stumbled in, appearance seemingly disheveled. A coffee cup was clutched tightly in one hand, her tote bag slipping precariously off one shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry—I couldn’t find my keys,” she muttered, sliding into the seat directly across from Wonbin.

For a brief second, their eyes met across the table—her tentative, his guarded. Wonbin’s gaze flicked away almost immediately.

“Right on time,” he muttered under his breath.

The words weren’t loud, but they sliced through the soft stillness of the room like a shard of glass.

Y/N paused mid-motion, her coffee cup hovering an inch above the table. Her lips parted slightly before curving into a tight smile. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

Eunseok’s gaze flicked cautiously between the two, a faint crease forming between his brows. Lina straightened in her seat, her eyes darting nervously toward her laptop.

“Okay!” Lina began, her voice overly bright, trying to steer the tension elsewhere. “Let’s get started, yeah? I thought we could begin with some theme ideas and maybe divide and assign tasks. We have a month, so if we pace ourselves, this should go pretty smoothly.”

The others nodded mutely, and for a while, the meeting seemed functional. Lina set the structure, Eunseok threw in occasional light-hearted jokes to cut the tension, and Y/N quietly jotted down notes while offering occasional suggestions.

But every interaction between Y/N and Wonbin felt like walking on shattered glass. Sharp. Unsteady. And always threatening to cut too deep.

“I was thinking we could build the song structure around a softer acoustic verse before leading into a stronger instrumental chorus—kind of like a gradual climb,” Y/N suggested, her voice steady despite the way her fingers fiddled with the corner of her notebook.

Wonbin didn’t look up from the strings of his guitar. “That’s basic. Everyone does that.”

Y/N froze for half a second, her fingers stilling against the paper. “Right. God forbid we sound like everyone else.”

The silence that followed was dense, heavy, filled only with the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights.

Eunseok cleared his throat lightly, trying to defuse the moment. “Actually, that’s a pretty common but effective structure. We could tweak it to make it stand out more.”

Y/N shot him a small, grateful smile before glancing down at her notes again. She pushed forward, her voice softer now. “Or��if you’d prefer—we could start with a stripped-down hook and—”

Wonbin cut her off again, his tone flat. “Or we could just keep it simple. No need to overcomplicate something that should feel natural.”

Y/N blinked at him, her lips pressing into a thin line as she set her pen down. “Right. Wouldn’t want to overwork your natural genius.”

Wonbin’s gaze snapped up to meet hers, sharp and unyielding. “At least I showed up on time.”

The words landed with a dull, heavy thud in the space between them.

The scrape of Y/N’s chair against the floor felt deafening in the ensuing silence as she leaned back slightly, her arms crossing over her chest. Her laugh was humorless, sharp. “Wow. Okay.”

Eunseok shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting toward Lina, who looked frozen behind her laptop screen.

For a few painfully long seconds, no one spoke. The clock on the wall ticked louder, and somewhere faintly outside, the distant sound of someone practicing piano echoed down the hall.

Lina cleared her throat, her voice cracking slightly as she forced a smile. “Okay! Um… maybe we should take a quick break. Ten minutes? Grab some air, refill your drinks—we’ll come back fresh.”

Y/N stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. She clutched her coffee cup so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“I’ll— I’m gonna step out for a second,” she said, her voice tight and trembling slightly at the edges. Wonbin’s eyes flickered to the pack of cigarettes she pulled out from her bag before she exited, making him scoff.

No one stopped her as she walked out, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

The brick wall felt cold against Y/N’s back as she leaned against it, her head tilted upward toward the pale sky. Her cigarette trembled slightly between her fingers as she brought it to her lips, inhaling deeply. The smoke curled in delicate spirals as she exhaled, sharp and slow.

Her chest felt tight. Not with anger, not entirely. It was something messier—something sharp-edged and bitter, lodged in her throat.

Through the cracked window, faint voices filtered out.

“Funny how the assigned vocalist is out smoking…” Wonbin’s voice drifted through, low and sharp.

“Wonbin.” Eunseok’s voice cut in, firm. “Enough.”

Y/N’s shoulders slumped slightly. Her cigarette burned down quicker than usual, glowing bright orange before she let it fall to the ground and crushed it under her heel.

The air in the music room felt heavier now that Y/N had left. Lina busied herself with her laptop, tapping her fingers against the keys a little too forcefully as if trying to drown out the silence. Wonbin remained rooted in his chair, eyes glued to the worn edge of his guitar case.

Eunseok, leaning casually against the table with his arms crossed, studied him for a moment before breaking the silence.

“You know…” Eunseok’s voice was low but steady, carrying the weight of unspoken words. “You don’t have to act like that with her.”

Wonbin’s eyes flicked up briefly before dropping back down. “Act like what?”

Eunseok let out a soft snort. “Like… that. All sharp edges and cold shoulders. What did she even do to piss you off this much? Be two minutes late?”

“Yeah, you were being kinda.. sassy.” Lina hesitantly pitched in, “I thought she had pretty good ideas, actually.”

Wonbin’s jaw twitched. He didn’t respond. Lina cleared her throat awkwardly before minding her own business again.

Eunseok sighed, pushing himself off the table and pulling up a chair beside Wonbin. He sat down backward, his arms resting on the backrest. “Look, man. I get it. You’ve been in your head lately, and… yeah, you’re not exactly yourself. But she didn’t deserve that. Especially for a first impression.”

Wonbin finally looked up, and for a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or exhaustion. “I know.”

The confession hung in the air for a beat too long before he continued, his voice quieter this time. “It’s not about her.”

Eunseok raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Could’ve fooled me.”

Wonbin exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. His voice trembled slightly at the edges, a crack in the otherwise carefully maintained facade. “I just— I can’t deal with someone acting all carefree and… and casual about this project. This is important to me, Eunseok. I can’t—”

“Is that really it, though?” Eunseok cut in, his voice softer now, his expression gentler. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve been carrying a whole lot of baggage, and you just let her take the hit for it.”

Wonbin froze. The silence between them stretched taut, a thread pulled to its breaking point.

Eunseok leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady. “You know, you’re not the only one who cares about this project. And she’s not your ex.”

The words landed heavily. Wonbin flinched slightly, his hand tightening around the strap of his guitar case.

“I know,” he said again, softer this time, almost like he was admitting it to himself more than to Eunseok.

The faint sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway outside, signaling Y/N’s return. Lina glanced up, her eyes darting between the two boys.

“Okay,” Eunseok said, his voice lightening deliberately as he pushed himself out of his chair. “Fresh start, yeah? Try not to bite anyone’s head off this time.”

Wonbin didn’t respond, but he gave a faint nod, his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor.

The door creaked open as Y/N stepped back into the room, her shoulders squared and her face carefully neutral.

“Ready to keep going?” Lina asked, her voice hesitant.

Y/N nodded, her voice even but quiet. “Yeah. Let’s finish this.”

The group returned to their work, but the tension lingered—a thin, invisible thread stretched across the room. Wonbin kept his head down, his focus firmly on his guitar, but every now and then, his eyes would flicker briefly toward Y/N, who was focused on her notes with an intensity that felt almost forced.

After a solid 30 minutes of pure work, Lina glanced at the clock on her laptop and sighed, her smile small but relieved. “Alright, I think that’s a good place to wrap up for today. Let’s figure out another time to meet up this week, yeah?””

Eunseok stretched his arms over his head with a groan. “Thank god. My brain was starting to overheat.”

There was a shuffle of papers and the zip of bags being closed. Lina stacked her color-coded notes neatly, Eunseok gathered his empty coffee cup and headphones, and Y/N quietly tucked her notebook into her bag.

The room was filled with the sound of faint scraping chairs and the hum of distant activity from the hallway. In the middle of the slow packing chaos, Y/N hummed softly under her breath—a faint, bittersweet melody, barely audible but achingly tender in its simplicity.

It wasn’t intentional. Her voice carried in that quiet, absentminded way someone hums when their mind is elsewhere, their guard lowered for just a fleeting moment.

Wonbin froze mid-motion as he was adjusting the strap of his guitar case. His head turned slightly in her direction, his brow furrowing as if he recognized something in the tune—or maybe just in the way she carried it.

For a second, it seemed like he was about to say something. His lips parted slightly, his gaze lingering on her profile as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

But the moment passed.

Instead, Wonbin closed his mouth, swallowed whatever words had risen to the surface, and turned his focus back to securing the latch on his guitar case.

Y/N glanced up briefly, catching the faintest flicker of something in his expression—hesitation, maybe regret—but it was gone before she could place it.

“See you tomorrow,” Lina said brightly, shouldering her bag and making her way to the door. Eunseok followed close behind, flashing Y/N a small, reassuring smile on his way out.

Y/N lingered for a moment longer. Her gaze flickered back to Wonbin, her lips pressing together like she was debating whether or not to say something.

But he was already turned away, his focus squarely on his bag.

With a small sigh, Y/N slung her tote bag over her shoulder and walked out, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

Wonbin’s fingers hovered briefly over the strap of his guitar case before curling into a loose fist.

The faint remnants of her melody still echoed softly in his ears.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡

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b1nniecat · 1 month ago

Text

🎶 counterpoint 🎶

prologue: prelude.

pairing: college!au park wonbin x fem!reader | rii7e + aespa appearances throughout the series!

content warnings: swearing, kys/kms jokes, reader smokes 🚬

wc: 1.2k

masterlist | next

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡

In music, counterpoint is the relationship between two or more melodic lines that are harmonically interdependent yet independent in rhythm and contour.

It’s tension and resolve, sharp edges clashing and lingering pauses hanging heavy in the air. Two distinct melodies, stubborn in their independence, yet drawn together by an invisible thread. Their rhythm stutters, their harmony falters, but somewhere in the chaos, something begins to take shape—a fragile balance where dissonance gives way to fleeting moments of clarity, and two voices learn to move in tandem without losing themselves.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

The city lights stretched far into the horizon, blurring into specks of gold and white as Y/N leaned heavily against the cold metal railing of her balcony. A cigarette flickered between her fingers, the ember glowing faintly in the dark. She tilted her head back, letting the smoke curl lazily upwards, a sharp contrast to the chill nipping at her exposed skin.

“…And it was just irrational and unreasonable,” Jimin’s voice crackled through her phone speaker, sharp and indignant. “I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, but I’m gonna say it—she IS a bitch.”

Y/N snorted, the cigarette bobbing slightly between her lips as she stifled a laugh.

“Woah,” Minjeong’s voice cut in with a dramatic gasp. “Jiminie cursing out a professor?”

“Crazy time to be alive,” Ning added, her voice light and amused.

The soft glow of her phone screen illuminated Y/N’s smirk as she pulled the cigarette away, exhaling slowly. The night air bit at her cheeks, but the warmth from her little vice lingered in her chest.

“Y/N…” Aeri’s voice carried a familiar edge of warning. “Didn’t you say you were taking a break this week?”

“Y/N’s smoking again?” Jimin gasped, horror dripping from every syllable.

“Okay, okay!” Y/N said quickly, lifting the cigarette into her phone camera’s view. Its glow had already begun to fade. “Look, I’m putting it out now, alright? I was just… in my feels.”

“And there are better coping mechanisms out there!” Aeri retorted, her voice sharp.

Minjeong let out an exaggerated snort. “You sure have a lot to say for someone who was basically married to her vape.”

“I THREW IT AWAY, OKAY?” Aeri cut in, indignant. “This is a team effort!”

Laughter erupted through the group chat, Ning practically wheezing as Jimin chimed in again, her voice softer now.

“Hey, Aeri, Y/N… don’t you guys have a 9AM class tomorrow?”

Y/N froze mid-inhale. The realization hit her all at once—the sharp smell of nicotine, the cold air, the looming weight of responsibility. Her forehead dropped to the railing with an audible thunk.

“Oh, fuck me.”

The screen flickered as her friends broke into laughter again, but Y/N was already stubbing out the cigarette, her fingers trembling slightly from the cold—or maybe something else. The city below stretched endlessly, and for a brief moment, she wondered if anyone else was staring out into the night, feeling just as restless.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

Morning sunlight poured through the tall classroom windows, dust particles catching in the glow as Y/N slipped into her seat beside Giselle. The faint smell of coffee clung to her sweater, and her notebook lay open but untouched in front of her.

The weight of exhaustion sat heavy under her eyes, and the caffeine was doing little to lift the fog clouding her head. But even through the haze, her gaze inevitably drifted forward.

Two rows ahead, Wonbin sat rummaging through his bag. His head was tilted downward slightly, dark hair falling messily across his forehead as his hands absentmindedly pulled his laptop and headphones out. The quiet confidence in the way he carried himself—the way he seemed lost in his own world—made Y/N’s stomach twist, just slightly.

“Okay, at this point, just walk up to him before the lecturer arrives and ask for his number,” Aeri whispered, elbowing Y/N lightly.

Y/N blinked and tore her gaze away. “You’re basically asking me to kill myself.”

Aeri shrugged, her grin sly. “You’ll regret it when the semester ends, and you never see him again.” She paused, “Hold on- WHAT IF WE DONT SEE EACH OTHER AGAIN?”

“We live in the same building, Ri,” Y/N deadpanned.

“So you hate me.”

“WHAT?!”

“Okay, fine. Men win again. Whatever.”

Y/N stifled her laugh, burying her face briefly into her folded arms on the desk as the lecturer finally entered the room. The buzz of conversation faded into silence as the projector flickered to life.

Her ears suddenly perked up at the words, “group project.”

“Your team members have already been assigned,” the lecturer continued, voice cutting cleanly through the low hum of conversation. “Please check your emails this afternoon for your assigned teammates. This project is due in one month, so I expect dedication and collaboration from all of you.”

Y/N felt a surge of relief. Finally, something practical—something real. The weight of lectures and theory always sat heavy on her, but this—this felt tangible.

Aeri leaned closer, whispering under her breath. “I’ve been praying for this class to assign us actual work. Talk about being a music major.”

Y/N smiled faintly, but a nervous flutter stirred in her stomach. Group projects. They could be a dream or a nightmare, and there was rarely any in-between.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

The campus café was crowded by mid-afternoon, students hunched over laptops, papers strewn across tables, and the faint hum of conversation filling every corner. Y/N and Aeri were perched at their usual spot by the window, their laptops open, condensation collecting on their iced drinks.

“Okay. Worst-case scenario: you get stuck with slackers,” Aeri said, straw pinched between her teeth. “What then?”

Y/N sighed dramatically, leaning back in her chair. “I drop out.”

They both laughed, their voices blending into the chatter around them.

The sharp ding of an email notification cut through the noise. The girls screamed, earning glares from those around them.

“FUCK WE’RE NOT TOGETHER.” Aeri wailed, dropping her head dramatically onto the table.

Y/N froze, “Please no, please no, please no…” she muttered under her breath.

Aeri leaned over, squinting at the screen. “I know… what are we going to-”

“No. Look.”

Y/N pointed at the name glaring back at her from the list of her assigned teammates: Wonbin.

Aeri collapsed back onto the table, “Oh no, yeah, you hate me.”

“I literally bought you coffee today,” Y/N hissed.

“Oh, so we’re no-strings-attached, sugar mommy-baby status now?” Aeri smirked, lifting her head back hp to take a loud sip of her drink.

“Shut up and help me.”

“Look.” Her voice softened slightly as she caught Y/N’s expression—equal parts panic and something else, something quieter. “It’s not that bad. Think about it—you’ll actually get to know him now. He’ll finally know you exist.”

“Gee, thanks,” Y/N muttered.

“Anytime, babe.”

They sat in silence for a beat, the weight of the email hanging heavy between them.

Aeri spoke again, softer this time. “Just do what you do best. Focus on the work, okay? If he wants you, he’ll have to chase you down himself.”

Y/N swallowed and nodded. “Right.”

In unison, their voices dropped into conspiratorial whispers:

“I don’t chase. I attract.”

Their laughter bubbled up again, but this time, Y/N felt a knot of nerves settle firmly in her chest.

Another email notification popped up.

Y/N groaned loudly. “Oh god. She’s one of those.”

Giselle snorted. “No way she sent an email already.”

Y/N sighed, typing out a brief reply before snapping her laptop shut.

“Why did I agree to 9AM…”

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡

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a/n: and it begins.. this kinda took a different direction to my initial “oo lemme write smthng 10 things i hate about you inspired” moment. nevertheless, this will def still be a slow burn bc i live for them, enemies to lovers, and i rly wanted to portray raw natural + realistic human emotion and reaction so i hope u guys enjoy :33 and i will make it a goal to have this series finished (for once)!!

.. fyi im aiming for this to have around 10-15 chapters but we shall see how it all flows…..

if uve read up to here thanku and pls bear with me as i get these chapters out (ง'̀-'́)ง

- b1nniecat (>ᴗ•) !

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