#lee seokmin

[jeonwonwoo]

JEONGHAN & DK

RUN-UP TO THE LEAP — 2024

[jinmindeulle]

brother's bff | lee seokmin

you're dating your brother's bff! dk's version ft. hao

taglist

@sarai-ibn-la-ahad

¸.·✩·.¸¸.·¯⍣✩ seventeen masterlist ✩⍣¯·.¸¸.·✩·.¸

[jeonsupershy]

my cat is a rockstar

[archivegyu]

the softest silence

“anyways, don’t be a stranger” (scott street)

There's a photo in a silver frame on Seungcheol's desk.

It's not particularly striking, no grand event captured, no posed smiles. Just a snapshot from a summer long gone. Three people squeezed into the frame: you, with a sunflower tucked behind your ear, laughing so hard your eyes are nearly closed, the petals casting delicate shadows across your cheekbone. Jeonghan, cheeks puffed in mock offense, his arm flung over your shoulder, fingers barely grazing the fabric of your sleeve like he's afraid to hold too tight. And Seungcheol, in the middle, caught mid-laugh, head thrown back, eyes crinkled, like the sound had startled even him. A moment of pure, unguarded joy frozen in time.

It's a photo no one meant to take. A moment no one meant to keep. And yet, it sits there, dustless, untouched. As if time itself had decided it should stay. The silver frame catching the morning light that filters through the half-drawn blinds of his office, creating a small constellation of reflections against the wall.

You still remember that day. Not because of the picture, but because of the way the sun hit Jeonghan's hair when he turned to call your name, golden light threading through strands that seemed to absorb the warmth itself. Because of the way Seungcheol looked at the both of you when you weren't looking, eyes soft and wondering, like he couldn't quite believe the three of you had found each other in this vast, indifferent universe. Because you didn't know, then, that it would be the beginning of something beautiful.

And quietly, quietly tragic.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

You met Jeonghan when you were fifteen, on a Tuesday that had started like any other. Gray skies threatening rain, the weight of textbooks in your arms, the familiar knot of anxiety that came with being the new face in the hallway. The classroom smelled of chalk dust and floor polish, and you'd chosen a seat by the window, hoping the cloudy light might make you less visible somehow.

He was the first person to talk to you in your new school, sliding into the empty desk beside yours with the casual confidence of someone who had never doubted his welcome anywhere. Sitting next to you in math class and offering half of his chocolate chip cookie like it was some kind of peace treaty, breaking it with careful fingers that somehow knew exactly where to snap it for equal parts.

"Fresh-baked this morning," he'd said, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "My mom's secret recipe. Well, not actually secret. She got it off the back of the chocolate chip bag, but we pretend it's a family heirloom."

The cookie was still warm, slightly gooey in the center. You'd taken it hesitantly, not quite understanding the easy way he'd decided to include you.

He never really gave you a choice. He just started existing in your life, like a bookmark slipped between pages. There one day and never gone after, marking something important without drawing attention to itself.

"I'm Yoon Jeonghan," he'd said with a grin that seemed to know something you didn't. "And you're my best friend now. Sorry, I don't make the rules."

You had laughed, not knowing how true it would become. Not understanding that some people come into your life with the quiet certainty of seasons changing. Inevitable, necessary, transformative.

Jeonghan was relentless in his affection. He called you at midnight just to tell you dumb jokes that he'd clearly rehearsed, his voice going slightly higher when he reached the punchline. He left sticky notes in your locker with bad puns and little doodles, stick figures with exaggerated features that somehow always looked like the teachers he was mocking. He dragged you into his chaos without warning. Impromptu trips to the convenience store during lunch, elaborate pranks on classmates that never crossed into cruelty, study sessions that devolved into philosophical debates about which cereal mascot would win in a fight.

But he also knew when to be still. He was there when your mom got sick, when the hospital visits became routine and the smell of antiseptic clung to your clothes even after washing. When you missed three weeks of school, he brought you handwritten notes. His messy scrawl somehow more comforting than the typed assignments other classmates had sent. When you needed someone to sit beside you in silence and just be there, he would arrive with a bag of your favorite snacks and a deck of cards, never pushing you to talk, never making you feel like your silence was a burden.

He never asked for anything in return. Never made you feel indebted for the way he held your world together when it threatened to come apart. It was just what friends did, he'd say, as if everyone had the capacity for the brand of loyalty he offered so effortlessly.

And then, two years later, he introduced you to Seungcheol.

It was at a house party Jeonghan had forced you to attend—his words, not yours. The living room was too warm, bodies pressed together in the limited space, music loud enough to feel in your chest but not quite loud enough to drown out the anxiety of social interaction. You were standing awkwardly by the snack table, calculating how much longer you needed to stay before you could politely leave, when he dragged someone over, his hand firm around the wrist of a boy you'd never seen before.

"This is Seungcheol," he said proudly, the way one might present a particularly impressive science project. "He's the only person I know who's more responsible than me. So naturally, I think he should take care of you when I'm not around."

The boy, Seungcheol, had looked momentarily embarrassed, a flush rising from his neck to his cheeks. But then he'd laughed softly, the sound barely audible over the thrum of the bass, and extended his hand. His fingers were slightly calloused, warm against your palm.

"It's nice to meet you," he said, his voice deeper than you'd expected, resonant in a way that made you want to hear more of it. "Jeonghan talks about you all the time. I was starting to think you might be imaginary."

You hadn't expected to fall for him. Not really. But there was something about the way he listened when you spoke, head slightly tilted, eyes never wandering from your face, as if every word you said deserved his complete attention. Something about the way he remembered the little things you said in passing. How you mentioned offhandedly that you loved tteokbokki from that one street vendor near the station, only to have him appear at your door weeks later with a container of it after you'd had a particularly rough day. Something about the way he stood slightly behind you in crowded spaces, quietly protective, never overbearing. A presence that said: I am here if you need me, but I trust you to navigate your own way.

He was the kind of safe that didn't feel suffocating. A quiet strength that reminded you of old trees, roots deep and branches steady even in the strongest winds.

But you were Jeonghan's best friend. And Seungcheol was Jeonghan's.

So you stayed quiet.

So did he.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The three of you became something of a unit. A trinity that others in your social circle recognized and accepted without question: where one went, the others followed, like planets locked in each other's gravitational pull.

Seungcheol drove the both of you home after late-night hangouts, always stopping for convenience store ramen. The fluorescent lights would cast strange shadows on your faces as you huddled around the small table outside, steam rising from your bowls, the night air cool against your skin. Jeonghan would sing badly in the passenger seat while you and Seungcheol harmonized just to annoy him, the three of you laughing until your ribs ached when he'd dramatically cover his ears and threaten to walk home.

Sometimes, Mingyu and Seokmin would tag along, stuffing themselves into the backseat, yelling over each other about snacks and playlists. Mingyu always insisting they needed more protein, Seokmin arguing just as passionately for sweeter options. The car would feel smaller then, warmer with the press of shoulders and knees, the windows fogging slightly with collective breath and laughter.

There were sleepovers where you all ended up on the floor of Jeonghan's apartment. A mess of blankets and pillows in the living room, the television casting blue light over your tired faces as you talked until sunrise. Seungcheol on one side of you, Jeonghan on the other, both too warm, too close, too familiar. Their breathing eventually evening out into sleep while you remained awake, hyperaware of every point of contact: Seungcheol's arm brushing yours, Jeonghan's head somehow ending up on your shoulder. And in those moments, you'd lie awake and wonder what it meant that your heart beat differently for each of them. A steady, warm rhythm for Seungcheol that felt like coming home; a quicksilver flutter for Jeonghan that felt like chasing something you couldn't quite name.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

One night, during your final year of high school, the three of you ended up on the roof of Jeonghan's apartment building. It was autumn, the air crisp but not yet biting, and you'd brought blankets to wrap around yourselves as you looked up at the few stars visible through the city's light pollution.

"We should make a pact," Jeonghan had said suddenly, his voice soft in the darkness. "That no matter where we end up after graduation, we'll always find our way back to each other."

Seungcheol had chuckled, the sound warm in the cool night. "You make it sound like we're going to war, not college."

"Same thing," Jeonghan had replied, bumping his shoulder against Seungcheol's. "People change. They find new friends, new priorities. I just don't want..."

He'd trailed off, and you'd turned to look at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. His profile was sharp against the night sky, eyes reflecting the distant city lights.

"Want what?" you'd prompted gently.

He'd shrugged, a forced casualness that didn't quite mask the tension in his shoulders. "I don't want to lose this. Us."

Seungcheol had reached over then, his hand finding Jeonghan's in the dark, squeezing once. "You won't."

You'd watched their hands, the easy comfort they offered each other, and felt something twist in your chest—not jealousy, exactly, but a sense of being witness to something intimate and unspoken.

"Promise?" Jeonghan had asked, looking not at you but at Seungcheol, his voice barely audible over the distant sounds of traffic.

Seungcheol had nodded, his expression serious in the half-light. "Promise."

You'd reached over then, placing your hand over theirs, completing the circle. "We promise," you'd said, speaking for all three of you, not yet understanding the complexity of what you were vowing to preserve.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Years passed. High school faded into college. The texture of your friendship changed with distance and time. No longer the constant presence in each other's daily lives, but something that had to be maintained with intention, with effort. You drifted, came back together, drifted again like tides. But you always found your way back: birthdays, holidays, lazy Sundays that turned into movie marathons in whoever's apartment was cleanest that week.

And always, always, Jeonghan teasing.

"Still single?" he'd ask with a smirk, nudging Seungcheol as you all sat around a table at your favorite barbecue place, the smell of grilling meat and sizzling garlic filling the air between you.

"Still annoying?" Seungcheol would fire back, expertly flipping the meat without looking away from Jeonghan's challenging grin.

And you'd roll your eyes, but part of you ached, because they felt like puzzle pieces you'd never quite fit between. Their friendship had a shorthand, a history that predated you. Sometimes you'd catch them exchanging glances that seemed to contain entire conversations, and you'd wonder what it was like to know someone so completely, to be known that way in return.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

But one spring, it shifted.

Jeonghan got busy.

New job at a design agency that required late nights and early mornings, new apartment across the city that made spontaneous visits less practical, less time for the comfortable routine the three of you had established. His absence created a space, and slowly, almost imperceptibly, you and Seungcheol began to fill it with something new.

You and Seungcheol started spending more time together, just the two of you. It wasn't planned, not consciously. He helped you move into your new place, carrying boxes up three flights of stairs without complaint, assembling furniture with patient precision long after you'd given up on deciphering the instructions. You helped him pick out a birthday gift for Jeonghan, wandering through stores for hours until you found a vintage film camera that made Seungcheol's eyes light up with recognition

"He's been talking about this model for months," he'd said, his excitement infectious.

You had dinner. Once. A casual thing after settling into your new place, too tired to go home but too hungry to sleep. A small restaurant with mismatched chairs and dim lighting, where Seungcheol ordered for both of you because you were too exhausted to make decisions, and somehow he got exactly what you would have chosen for yourself.

Then again. This time planned, deliberate, a text from Seungcheol asking if you wanted to try that new place that had opened near your apartment, the one with the fusion menu everyone was talking about. You'd said yes without hesitation, ignoring the flutter in your stomach as you changed outfits three times before he arrived.

And then… again. Each time the conversation flowing more easily, the silences more comfortable, the moments of accidental touch lingering just a beat longer than necessary.

And one day, under the soft golden haze of dusk, Seungcheol kissed you.

It wasn't planned. You were walking back from a late afternoon movie, the streets bathed in that magical hour when the sun seems to paint everything in honeyed light. You had made a dumb joke about the film's predictable ending, and he laughed, really laughed, the way he used to back in high school. Uninhibited and genuine, and something cracked open between you. He stopped walking, turned to face you, his expression shifting into something serious and tender and terrified all at once.

He looked at you like he had been holding his breath for years.

"I shouldn't have waited this long," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, one hand coming up to cup your face, thumb brushing softly across your cheekbone.

You never asked what that meant. Whether he was referring to weeks of dancing around each other or years of quiet longing. You just kissed him back, standing in the middle of the sidewalk as the world continued around you, strangers passing by, oblivious to the way your universe had just realigned itself.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The relationship was slow and quiet and gentle. There were no fireworks, no chaos. None of the dramatic declarations of love you'd seen in movies or read in books. Just small things: coffee in the morning made exactly how you liked it, hand squeezes in public that said "I'm here" without words, late-night walks with no destination, just the comfort of shared silence and understanding.

It felt inevitable, like something that had been waiting patiently in the wings of your life, ready to step forward when the time was right.

The rest of your friends found out quickly. You swore Soonyoung had been waiting for it, the way his eyes widened in exaggerated shock before his face split into a knowing grin when you and Seungcheol showed up to a group dinner holding hands.

"Took you long enough," he said, grinning as he pulled out a chair for you. "I've had a bet going with Seokmin since second year of university."

You'd blushed, but Seungcheol had just laughed, his arm secure around your waist, a quiet pride in the way he stood beside you, as if finally allowed to show something he'd hidden for too long.

Even Jeonghan smiled, teasing as ever when you told him. Though you noticed he'd been the last to know, an unusual oversight that neither you nor Seungcheol had acknowledged.

"Guess I was your cupid, huh?" he'd said, raising his glass in a mock toast, lounging across from you in the café where you'd arranged to meet, his hair longer now, tied back loosely at the nape of his neck. "I always knew you two were weirdly in sync."

But sometimes, you'd catch him watching. Just for a second, expression unreadable, a flicker of something in his eyes before he'd blink and it would vanish, replaced by his usual mischievous glint.

You chalked it up to nostalgia. To the natural melancholy of seeing childhood friendships evolve, reshape themselves around new dynamics. To the bittersweet recognition that things would never be quite the same again.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Two years into your relationship with Seungcheol, you found yourself alone with Jeonghan for the first time in months. He'd been traveling for work—Tokyo, Seoul, New York—his social media a blur of skylines and coffee shops in different cities. But he was home now, just for a week, and had invited you over to see his new photographs.

His apartment was exactly as you'd expected: organized chaos, walls covered in prints and postcards, surfaces cluttered with books and camera equipment. It smelled like him. Sandalwood and coffee and something slightly citrusy that you'd never been able to identify.

"So," he said, pouring you a glass of wine as you settled onto his couch, "when's the wedding?"

You nearly choked on your first sip. "What?"

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "Come on. You've been together for what, two years now? That's practically married in Seungcheol-time. He's never dated anyone longer than six months before you."

You set your glass down carefully, studying Jeonghan's face. "We haven't really talked about it," you said truthfully. "We're good where we are."

Jeonghan hummed noncommittally, taking a long sip of his own wine. "He'll ask, you know. He's been saving for a ring since last Christmas."

Your heart skipped. "How do you know that?"

He shrugged, a casual gesture that didn't quite match the intensity of his gaze. "He tells me things. Some things, anyway."

There was something in his tone, not bitter, but not entirely at peace either. A complexity you couldn't quite untangle.

"Are you okay with it?" you asked suddenly, surprising yourself with the question. "With us, I mean."

Jeonghan looked at you then, really looked at you, his eyes searching yours for something you couldn't name. For a moment, you thought you saw a flash of raw emotion. Pain or longing or something in between. Before his expression settled into a gentle smile.

"I want you both to be happy," he said simply. "And you make each other happy. So yes, I'm okay with it."

He raised his glass, tapping it lightly against yours. "To the people I love most in this world finding each other," he said, his voice steady but soft, like a confession.

You clinked your glass against his, a weight lifting from shoulders you hadn't realized were tense. "Thank you," you said, meaning it more than he could know.

"Just promise me one thing," he added, setting his glass down and leaning forward slightly.

"Anything."

"Don't make me wear one of those awful groomsmen suits. I look terrible in pastels."

You laughed, the tension broken, and the conversation moved on. But later, as you were leaving, Jeonghan hugged you tighter than usual, his face buried briefly in your shoulder.

"Take care of him," he whispered, so quietly you almost missed it. "He deserves someone who sees all of him."

Before you could ask what he meant, he'd pulled away, his familiar grin back in place as he waved you off.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The wedding was in early spring, under cherry blossoms that scattered pale petals like snow whenever the breeze stirred.

A day soaked in sunlight and soft winds. The sky bloomed like watercolor: pinks, golds, and a gentle blue that looked like it had been painted just for the two of you. The venue was simple. An outdoor garden with rows of white chairs and an arch twined with flowers and greenery. Nothing extravagant, nothing that called for attention. Just like your love: quiet, steady, true.

Jeonghan stood beside Seungcheol before the ceremony, both in tailored suits that made them look older, more serious than you were used to seeing them. Through the partially open door of the preparation room, you caught glimpses of them: Jeonghan adjusting Seungcheol's tie with practiced fingers, their heads bent close in conversation, a moment of intimacy that made you pause, not wanting to intrude.

"You're shaking," Jeonghan said, his tone light as he smoothed the fabric of Seungcheol's lapel, fingers lingering just a moment too long.

Seungcheol exhaled, a shaky breath that betrayed his nerves. "You think I'm doing the right thing?"

There was a beat of silence—just long enough for something unspoken to pass between them, a current you could feel even from where you stood, unseen.

Jeonghan paused. Smiled. A smile that didn't quite reach his eyes but tried valiantly nonetheless. "You're doing the only thing that's ever made sense to you." he said, voice steady despite the slight tension in his shoulders.

He meant it. God, he meant it. The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable, even as something in his expression flickered. A shadow passing too quickly to identify, gone before it could fully form.

You stepped away then, not wanting to witness more of a moment that wasn't meant for you. Your wedding coordinator found you minutes later, ushering you into position for your entrance, fussing with the train of your dress, the placement of flowers in your hair.

You walked down the aisle, and the world held its breath.

Seungcheol looked at you like you were the only thing he'd ever waited for, his eyes bright with unshed tears, his smile trembling slightly at the edges. Jeonghan stood to the side, hands in front of him, heart beating slow and loud in his chest, you couldn't hear it, of course, but somehow you knew, could see it in the careful way he held himself, as if afraid to disturb the air around him.

He watched your vows. Watched Seungcheol tear up when you called him your safest place, your harbor in every storm. Watched as you slipped rings onto each other's fingers, promises made tangible in precious metal.

He laughed with the crowd when the officiant made a gentle joke. Toasted with the rest of them at the reception, glass raised high, smile fixed firmly in place.

And when it was his turn to speak, he stepped forward, raised his glass, and said:

"To the people who taught me what real love looks like. Not just the loud kind, but the quiet kind. The kind that doesn't ask for anything back."

His voice was steady, but something in it made the room fall silent, everyone leaning in slightly, drawn by the raw emotion barely contained in his measured words.

He looked at Seungcheol then, eyes soft in a way that made your breath catch.

"And to the ones who stay… no matter how much it hurts."

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Most of the guests smiled, moved by what they perceived as a poetic tribute to marriage's endurance through difficulties. You smiled too, touched by his eloquence, by the depth of feeling in his toast.

Seungcheol's smile faltered for just a second. A barely perceptible crack in his joyful composure, a flash of something like recognition crossing his features before he recovered, raising his glass in acknowledgment.

No one noticed.

Except Jeonghan.

Who had seen everything, always.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Years later. The seasons had softened. Summer easing into autumn, passions settling into comfortable routines.

Your house has grown quieter. The parties less frequent, the messes smaller. You and Seungcheol had fallen into the gentle rhythm of long-term love. The kind of relationship where you could read each other's moods in the set of shoulders, the pace of breathing. Love settled differently after a few years, less like fire, more like gravity. Comfortable, warm. Something that didn't need to be named every day to be known.

You still had Jeonghan over sometimes. Not as often as before. He traveled more now—Tokyo with its neon glow that he captured in stunning night photography, Berlin where he claimed the coffee was better than anywhere else, sometimes just vanished for weeks at a time to go "find himself" in cities that didn't ask questions. But he always came back. Always found his way to your door with gifts from distant places and stories that seemed half-true at best.

This time, he brought orange wine and a new camera, sleek and vintage, another addition to his growing collection. Said he missed your cooking, though you both knew he was the better chef among the three of you. It was his way of saying he missed you, missed this, the comfort of familiar faces and shared history.

The rest of the boys came too, a reunion that filled your home with noise and laughter after months of relative quiet. Minghao and Mingyu yelling over the charcoal in the backyard, arguing about the proper way to grill meat as if their lives depended on it. Soonyoung trying to teach your dog a dance move, the poor animal looking thoroughly confused as he demonstrated what he swore was the next viral TikTok trend. Seungkwan and Hansol screaming in protest as Chan suggested yet another bizarre drinking game he'd learned from his coworkers. It was chaos. It was comfort. It was everything you'd always wanted to keep; This family you'd built, piece by piece, person by person.

You were inside plating dessert, a cake that had taken you hours to perfect, layers of chocolate and cream that you hoped would impress even Mingyu, who had become something of a food snob since starting culinary school. The kitchen was warm from the oven, the open window letting in the sounds of laughter from the backyard.

Jeonghan came in, slipping past the others and settling onto the kitchen counter with a quiet sigh. He looked tired, you noticed, not the kind of tired that came from a long day, but the bone-deep exhaustion that accumulated over years. Still beautiful, still quick to smile, but there was a heaviness to him that hadn't been there in your younger days.

Seungcheol stood at the sink, rinsing glasses, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, forearms wet with soapy water. "You still collect film cameras?" he asked, glancing at the one slung around Jeonghan's neck, the strap worn and fraying slightly from constant use.

Jeonghan nodded, spinning it in his hands, fingers tracing the familiar contours. "They're the only way I remember things right," he said, a note of wistfulness in his voice.

Seungcheol chuckled, the sound low and warm in the quiet kitchen. "You? Forget? Mr. 'I still remember what everyone wore to the first day of high school'?"

Jeonghan smiled. Not quite sad. Not quite anything. An expression that existed in the spaces between defined emotions. "Sometimes the things you remember aren't the ones you want to."

That gave Seungcheol pause. His hands stilled in the soapy water, a glass held motionless as he turned to look at Jeonghan, something unspoken passing between them.

The conversation moved on. You returned from the dining room, handed Jeonghan a slice of cake. He teased you about the uneven icing, the slight tilt of the top layer. You smacked his arm playfully, defending your creation. Everything was normal.

But something about that moment, those words, stuck. A splinter too small to remove but large enough to feel with every movement.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

It wasn't until much later that Seungcheol understood.

The evening was winding down. Mingyu and Seokmin had volunteered to drive the more inebriated members of the group home. Joshua and Jeonghan were deep in conversation on the back porch, their voices a soft murmur carried occasionally through the open window. You were showing Hansol and Seungkwan the renovations you'd made to the guest bedroom, their enthusiastic commentary echoing down the hallway.

Seungcheol was in the garage, rummaging through old boxes, trying to find the extra bulbs for the patio lights that had mysteriously stopped working halfway through the evening. The garage was cluttered. Not messy, but full of the accumulated possessions of a life built together: holiday decorations, camping equipment used once a year, tools that Seungcheol insisted were essential despite your never having seen him use them.

The evening sun had already started dipping low, casting gold through the open doorway. Dust floated in the beams as he pushed aside old photo frames and tangled extension cords, the air thick with the scent of cardboard and faintly musty fabric.

Then he saw it. An old, worn photo album, tucked under a pile of forgotten board games. The cover was faded blue fabric, corners frayed from years of handling. He recognized it instantly. Jeonghan had made it years ago, back when the three of you were still inseparable, your lives woven tightly into each other's days. A graduation gift, he'd called it, though it had arrived months after the ceremony.

Seungcheol sat on the step leading up to the house, flipping it open with careful fingers. The binding creaked slightly, pages stiff from disuse.

Page after page, his smile grew: beach trips with sunburnt cheeks and wind-tangled hair, ice cream dripping down wrists in the summer heat. Movie nights on the couch, all of you piled together under blankets, faces illuminated by the blue glow of the television. Jeonghan's questionable bleached phase that had lasted exactly three weeks before he'd admitted defeat and returned to his natural color. Birthdays, holidays, ordinary Tuesday afternoons that had somehow warranted documentation.

A history, not just of events, but of feeling. Of belonging.

And near the back, tucked into the spine, was a single polaroid. Slightly faded, edges curling. Not inserted into the album proper but hidden, as if meant to be found only by someone who knew where to look.

Just Jeonghan and Seungcheol. Sitting on a rooftop; the one from Jeonghan's old apartment, the city sprawled out below them, lights beginning to flicker on as dusk settled. The photo wasn't posed. Just a moment caught by someone passing by, you, probably, though Seungcheol couldn't remember the specific occasion. He was laughing at something off-camera, head tilted back, eyes nearly closed in genuine mirth.

Jeonghan wasn't looking at the camera.

He was looking at him.

Looking at Seungcheol with an expression so raw, so unguarded, that it felt almost intrusive to see it now, years later, preserved in chemical and paper.

And in that stillness, something lodged in Seungcheol's chest. A realization that had perhaps always been there, dormant, waiting to be acknowledged.

Because it wasn't how you looked at Seungcheol. It wasn't how Jeonghan looked at you. It was how Jeonghan looked at him.

The quiet admiration. The ache tucked carefully into the curve of his smile. That same expression Seungcheol wore the first time he realized he loved you.

Everything shifted.

Memories he hadn't questioned suddenly glowed in new light. The way Jeonghan lingered after game nights, finding reasons to stay just a little longer when everyone else had gone. The way he stood beside Seungcheol during your wedding with his hands too still and eyes too calm, a perfect best man except for the slight tremor in his voice during his toast. The trips abroad that always coincided with your anniversaries, the gifts that were always exactly what Seungcheol needed but had never mentioned wanting.

It had never been about you. It was never about you. It was always him.

"Found the bulbs!" your voice called from behind, pulling Seungcheol out of it. You stepped into the garage, brushing your hands on your shorts. "Finally. They were in the kitchen drawer with the batteries, which makes absolutely no sense, but there they are."

You saw the album in his lap. And then the photo, still held between his fingers. "Oh," you murmured, crouching beside him, your shoulder warm against his. "That's from the old rooftop place, right? The one near the station. Before they turned it into those expensive apartments."

He nodded slowly, fingers still touching the edge of the photo, as if afraid it might disappear if he let go.

You looked at him, then back at the picture. A quiet beat passed. Then you reached out, taking the photo from his hand.

"I'll ask Jeonghan if he remembers this," you said gently, perceiving but not acknowledging the shift in your husband's demeanor. "He's upstairs, I think. Said something about borrowing a book from the office."

You didn't wait for an answer. Just leaned over, pressed a soft kiss to his temple, and headed back inside, leaving him with the album and the weight of understanding.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Later that night, the house was quiet.

The others had long gone home, the remnants of a loud evening now settled into silence. Empty plates still scattered across the kitchen counter, half-empty bottles of wine waiting to be corked, the lingering scent of charcoal and laughter hanging in the air. The living room, hours earlier filled with boisterous voices and overlapping stories, now stood in hushed reverence to the night. You had gone to bed after handing Jeonghan the photo, your footsteps fading up the stairs, leaving behind a trail of soft goodnights.

Seungcheol found himself wandering through the quiet house, turning off forgotten lamps, straightening cushions, his mind racing with revelations he couldn't quite process. Each object he touched seemed weighted with new meaning; the mugs Jeonghan always used when he visited, the blanket he'd gifted them three Christmases ago, the collection of polaroids magnetized to the refrigerator. Years of friendship suddenly illuminated by a different light.

He paused when he spotted movement on the balcony through the glass door. A silhouette against the city lights.

Jeonghan was there.

He always lingered.

Cross-legged in the deck chair, beer in hand, gaze unfocused on the skyline. The soft hush of traffic below mingled with distant sirens and the occasional laughter from a neighboring balcony. A breeze smelling faintly of summer rain. The kind of night that hummed with what's left unsaid. His hair, longer now than it had been in their youth, swayed gently, catching moonlight in silver strands.

Seungcheol slid the door open, the sound causing Jeonghan to tilt his head slightly, acknowledging his presence without turning.

"You're still here," Seungcheol said, his voice barely rising above the ambient sounds of the night.

Jeonghan didn't look over. "Couldn't sleep. Thought I'd steal the view a little longer." He took a slow sip from his bottle, his fingers wrapped around it with familiar ease. "Besides, the city looks different from this side of town. Prettier somehow."

Seungcheol sat across from him, the wicker chair creaking under his weight. Silence stretched between them. Not uncomfortable, just full, like a book with too many pages to read in one sitting.

Then Jeonghan spoke, voice quieter than usual, almost lost in the night breeze. "She showed it to me. The photo."

Seungcheol's chest tightened, a familiar ache now seen through new understanding. He watched Jeonghan's profile, searching for signs he might have missed all these years. "I found it earlier," he said, because there was no point pretending. "Didn't remember it until I saw it again."

Jeonghan let out a breath that seemed to carry years. "Neither did I. Funny how time makes you forget the things you thought you'd carry forever." He traced the rim of the bottle absently, eyes still fixed on some distant point in the cityscape. "And then suddenly, there it is again. Like it never left."

Seungcheol hesitated, words forming and dissolving on his tongue before he finally spoke. "The way you looked at me in it…"

Jeonghan finally turned to him. And for the first time in years, he didn't hide behind teasing smiles or deflecting jokes. His eyes, usually bright with mischief, now held only quiet resignation. "I know."

The words hung there between them, suspended in the balcony air. No denial. No dodge. Just the truth, quiet and steady as a heartbeat.

Seungcheol looked down, his fingers curling against his knees, memories reshuffling themselves in his mind. Every late-night conversation. Every lingering glance. Every time Jeonghan had stepped back, stepped aside, stepped away.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" he asked, the question barely audible above the distant traffic.

"Because you loved her," Jeonghan said simply, his smile small but genuine. "And she loves you. And I wasn't going to be the reason something good broke." He looked back out at the city, the lights reflecting in his eyes. "Some things are worth protecting, even from yourself."

Seungcheol swallowed thickly, his throat tight with words he couldn't form. "You should've told me."

"And what would that have changed?" Jeonghan asked, with the gentlest smile, no trace of bitterness in his voice. "Would you have chosen differently?"

He didn't ask it accusingly. He wasn't trying to wound.

Just… wondering.

Seungcheol didn't answer. The night air filled with possibilities never explored, paths never taken, words never spoken.

Because maybe he wouldn't have.

Maybe he still would've found his way to you.

Maybe Jeonghan still would've stayed by his side, all the same.

"I meant it" Jeonghan said suddenly, softer now, eyes tracing the skyline with practiced care. "When I introduced you two. I thought you'd be good together. And I was right." He paused, taking another sip of his beer, his throat working as he swallowed. "You balance each other. Always have."

He turned then, meeting Seungcheol's gaze with the kind of directness they hadn't shared in years. "You're happy, right? With her?"

Seungcheol nodded slowly, the truth coming easily despite the complexity of the moment. "I am."

Jeonghan smiled, and this time it reached his eyes; warm, genuine, and tinged with something that looked almost like relief. "Then that's all I ever wanted."

He stood then, stretching his arms like he wasn't carrying a lifetime between his ribs, like the conversation hadn't exposed something both of them had spent years carefully avoiding. "I'll crash on the couch. Early flight tomorrow," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Milan this time. Fashion week. Lots of pretentious people." He laughed softly, almost to himself.

Seungcheol didn't stop him.

Didn't ask him to stay.

But as Jeonghan reached the door, he spoke once more, his voice steady. "Hannie."

Jeonghan paused, hand on the door handle, but didn't turn around.

"Thank you," Seungcheol said simply. For what, he didn't specify. For stepping aside, for keeping the secret, for remaining their friend despite everything, for all the years of quiet sacrifice.

Jeonghan's shoulders tensed briefly before relaxing. Without turning, he nodded once and slipped back inside, leaving Seungcheol alone with the night and all its unspoken truths.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

That night, Seungcheol climbed into bed beside you. You stirred faintly, curling closer in the darkness, your hand brushing his chest in your sleep, fingers instinctively seeking the familiar warmth of him. The sheets rustled softly as he settled, your breathing a gentle rhythm against the quiet of the night.

He stared at the ceiling, watching shadows from passing cars slide across it like silent ghosts.

He thought of Jeonghan.

Alone on the couch.

A photo in his pocket.

A thousand miles behind his smile.

And he did nothing.

Said nothing.

Because you didn't know.

And Jeonghan… Jeonghan would never let you know.

He closed his eyes, listening to the soft cadence of your breathing, feeling the gentle weight of your arm across his middle. In the darkness, he allowed himself to imagine, just for a moment, a different path.

One where he had seen, had known, had understood the look in Jeonghan's eyes years ago.

But the thought dissolved as quickly as it formed. Because here, in this bed, in this life, with you. This was his choice. This was his love. And even knowing what he now knew, he wouldn't change it.

So he pressed a kiss to your forehead and let sleep find him, certain in the knowledge that tomorrow, Jeonghan would be gone again. Off to another city, another adventure, but that he would always return. Because that was the promise they had made without words: to stay, to remain, to preserve this fragile, beautiful thing they had built together, even if it meant carrying quiet heartaches no one else could see.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

So the next time they saw each other, everything appeared the same.

The inside jokes flowing easily between them. The playful teasing about Jeonghan's latest hair color and Seungcheol's growing collection of dad jokes. The way Seungcheol passed Jeonghan his drink without needing to ask, already knowing exactly how he liked it. Two ice cubes, a splash more than the usual pour. The comfortable silence as they sat side by side on the porch swing, watching the neighborhood children chase fireflies across the lawn.

To anyone watching; to you, to their friends, to the world.

Nothing had changed.

But in the moments between laughter, something in their eyes lingered. Just for a breath. A silent acknowledgment, a shared secret held carefully between them like something precious and fragile.

Not regret.

Just memory.

And perhaps, in those quiet moments, a different kind of love than either had expected. One built not on possession or fulfillment, but on the quiet dignity of knowing and being known, of choosing to remain despite everything left unsaid.

Because sometimes, love lives quietly. Between heartbeats, across the years, woven into all the words they never found the courage to say. And sometimes, the softest silence speaks the loudest truth of all.

[bandzboy]

CHILL GUY KYEOM! ★

[youngwonhui]

✦ picture of a perfect rose | ch. 2

*•. member: Seokmin x afab readers

*•. genre: arranged marriage, royalty au, strangers to lovers, slowburn, slight mystery

*•. wc: 14k

*•. warnings: Seokmin might lose his temper again, alcohol consumption, smut, MDNI, unprotected sex (don’t do this folks)

*•. crossposted on AO3

*•. masterlist

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3

“Do you think we can eat now?��

“Does this have vegetable in it?”

“Can i have two bowls?”

“Is this hot?”

The questions are flying to you like moths to a flame. You can only suppress your laughter, with two hands stirring the big pot of soup. Surrounding you, groups of children taking in the sight of delicious warm soup.

They couldn’t care regardless who’s stirring the pot.

“Hush you all, let the Queen finish her soup.” You shook your head lightly at the volunteer who step up. Signaling that you are quite alright with the little audiences.

Today you’re visiting a small community just in the outskirts of town and helping on cooking for their soup kitchen. You were told that since it’s sunday, there’s many kids flocking the area. It doesn’t help that next door is a big playground. You can see the kids began to disperse. Running straight there past the people lining up with meal ticket in hand.

“You didn’t have to, they must be starving from playing.” You told the kind volunteer. Now arranging pieces of chicken freshly roasted into the buffet tray.

“No, they’re just curious. Pretty sure next time they’ll asked you for candies your majesty.”

“Oh no, do the foundation needs more sweets supply? Are there growing populations of kids around this neighborhood? We can take account the high dema—”

“Your majesty please, we have enough,” the kind volunteer stops your relentless ramble. “We’re always fully stocked thanks to the fair distribution law for the needed.” Upon your confused face, they try to elaborate. “The late Queen implemented said law. She’ll be missed greatly.”

The words surprise you, learning another knowledge of the late Queen’s legacy. The thought clenches your heart a little. You and majority of the kingdom has been intentionally shunning her of only her flaw. Never bothered paying attention to any good that she’s done. Your mind began to wander, will your time be mirroring her? Will your choice brought you demise and forced you to ended up alone in a place you barely recognize?

“Your majesty.”

Your gaze return to the volunteer beside you, seeing them bowing so deep sent you to confusion. But not long until you realize that the greeting wasn’t directed to you. The soup has your attention and thought sucked deep into a seemingly unending circle. Completely missing out the massive shift of crowds around you. Caused by the man in your thought.

“Hello there, masterchef.”

“Seokmin?” You tried to mask your surprise, but what surfaced is just a pure elated smile just from a mere sight of Seokmin.

Seokmin exchange a few handshakes and waves to the newly formed crowd around him. He then swiftly moved to your side, leaning close to take a peek of the massive pot you have been stirring. Seokmin then smiles at you, completely rendering you speechless.

Thankfully the volunteer manager who you’ve met earlier kindly explaining the agenda today. Including the soup that has been stealing your attention. A shy smile made its way to your face, Seokmin himself couldn’t hide his own.

He eyed down your somewhat casual attire, complemented by the apron that has been sewed by the local youth community. His smile grew bigger when he spots a pair of flats as your choice of footwear.

“This smells so good. Have you ever cooked this at home?” Seokmin’s mention of home caught you off guard but you’re quick to overcame it.

“Uh, i don’t think so? I certainly never cooked this big of a portion before.” Around you, there’s a resounding laughter upon your words.

At first you had not gotten used to it. Being the center of attention of many people, and those same people reacting to your every words and moves. For now, your own focus are halved by the man beside you.

“Anyway, i’m just quickly dropping by since i was only a few blocks away. I must rush to a meeting at the cabinet office.” Seokmin then turn to the volunteer manager, exchanging words with each other. Leaving you fumbling with a slight surprise and disappointment.

As Seokmin quickly busied by bidding goodbye to anyone in charge, you immediately realize the time. You asked the volunteer earlier for a to-go box and then proceed to pack up a decent set of meal. After spotting Seungkwan somewhere by the corner, you silently handed it to him.

“Can you give this to Seokmin? Just in case he got caught up and forgotten to eat. Or it’s for you if-if he doesn’t want any. That’s cool too.”

Seungkwan has a knowing smile in his face but you’re still oblivious of it. Clouded by nerves. Seungkwan assures you of his duty and you left to return to your soup.

Seokmin bid you a quick goodbye before Wonwoo ushered him back to the car. Mass of people following him close as he make way to the waiting car. Once inside, Seokmin is oblivious of the smile grazing his face. As bright as the first sunlight in May.

“Here, your wife is concern of your nutrition.” Seungkwan placed a warm package on to Seokmin’s lap. A teasing smirk on his face.

Stunned, Seokmin stare at the brown paper bag he’s been given. Steady hand unwrapping it midst the shaky moving car. His focus undivided to finishing the task. Not finding how Wonwoo and Seungkwan exchange a knowing smile. Inside the wrapping, he found a generous portion of the meal he saw earlier.

“Did Y/n gave it to you?” Seokmin hasn’t lift his head, staring intently at the slight steam coming off of his packed lunch.

“Mmhm, she told me i could have it if you don’t want any.” Seungkwan’s reaching hand are quickly pushed away by Seokmin’s possessive ones.

“Y/n says it’s mine first.”

Seokmin could almost hear Wonwoo and Seungkwan rolling their eyes. But a whispers of smile on their faces.

A meal could have never brought Seokmin this kind of happiness, his thought kept returning to you. After he apologize on that dusty staircase Seokmin’s eyes kept finding its way to you. Seemingly washed in a new light. He revel the sight he sees every morning when you’re so dedicated to cook a breakfast not because you have to, but because you just love doing it. And Seokmin is certainly in no place to stopped you from doing it.

Not when he adores you shuffling around the bright kitchen in your choice of sleeping attire. Sometimes it’s a matching silk pyjama, but sometimes it’s an old baggy T-shirt that he assumes has been in your possession since high school.

“If you start drooling to the food, i’m telling Y/n.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Wonwoo had to resigned to his seat. The argument happening in front of him has becoming a sight he’s accustomed to.

\\

“What do you think the difference between apricot and cherry blossom is?” You mindlessly wonder, picking at the warm egg tart you just made.

You’re met with no answer other than the clicking of keyboard from Yeri across the counter.

It’s a rare day where you’re free of any royal duties, and Yeri has kept you company throughout the day while arranging future plans of visitation schedule and lots of meeting. She has kindly let you ramble as you tries to busied yourself with the tricky recipe you’re trying today.

Yet eventually you succeed. After mixing up two kinds of recipe and ended up with mountains of little cups of treats.

Deciding that Yeri couldn’t even entertain you in your free day, you decided to turn to another one with a free day. Although that other person has been holed in his studies with his ‘friend’ discussing something of an urgent matter. Some free day they have.

Carrying a tray of freshly baked golden egg tarts, you made your way to the studies. As you’re nearing the familiar somewhat formidable door, you could see how it’s slightly ajar. Much more familiar voices you began to recognize when you stood before it.

“Seokmin, Jeonghan and i both know what she’s capable of. It’s not out of her character to do so.”

“What Chan is trying to say it that, there’s a possibility. But we still have to find concrete evidence. We can’t still accuse someone out of hypothesis.”

“Are you accusing her of corruption? The very same one she’s trying to fight all her life?”

“Seokmin we’re trying to say, that no one truly knows her. Especially in her last years of reign. Not even yourself.”

“Chan, please.”

“GET OUT!”

You heard a quickening shuffles, until you realize your current position might be a tad suspicious. If it not for the hand full of tray, you might have took a hiding behind another corner. But alas, the door opened to Chan with Wonwoo and Jeonghan in tow. All with the same frown in their face.

“Y/n.” Wonwoo whispers before he glance to Seokmin and then back to you silently. Chan on the other hand, true to his nature, quick to his suspicion tendencies. Meanwhile Jeonghan doesn’t hesitate to gives you a judging eyes.

“Were you eavesdropping? What did you hear?” Chan’s pointing hand to you are quickly hushed away by Wonwoo.

Although looking in sour mood, Wonwoo manage to mutter quick apology before dragging Chan away to the fresh air. Far from the same fiery state Seokmin is in. Jeonghan only following suit, he kept his eyes on you and it somewhat almost reducing your confidence.

You almost couldn’t recognize Seokmin though. Standing with his back turned to you, his tense shoulder became the sole reminder of that night. You’re quick to step in and and close the door behind you. Trying to put another barrier between Seokmin and his friends just in case one of them are hell bent to argue some more.

Upon the sound of the door, Seokmin turn his eyes, but quickly averted your gaze. A feeling of shame and worry crept into his body. Once again you had to see him in this shameful state. Too worked up and couldn’t manage to control his own emotion.

“Y/n, you should get out before i say something that will hurt you again.”

“I believe you wouldn’t do the same mistake twice.”

Your voice was hushed, and it sounds clear in Seokmin’s ear. You had chosen to stay inside and taking steps to approach him instead. After setting down the tray you carries. Seokmin slowly turns to you, head hung low and the same distraught and frown in his face.

You tries to match his eyes, feeling that he doesn’t need words for now. Although it took a while but eventually Seokmnin stopped avoiding your gaze. One calming breath after another, Seokmin’s own shaking hands unfurl from his fist.

“I’m sorry, you have to see that.”

“You and Chan argue often. I’m sure both of you would make-up soon.” Seokmin’s chuckle brought a smile to your face.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that, too.” Seokmin paused, you try to encourage him to talk. Hoping that Seokmin will trusts you enough to open up. “I shouldn’t have been angry like that but,” the sentence ended on Seokmin’s exasperated sigh.

“Was it about your mother?”

Your heart broke when Seokmin nodded, his eyes fixed to you before fluttering close. You couldn’t fight the hesitation to take his hand. Wanting to give him all the comfort in the world. And Seokmin seemingly welcoming all the touch you give. Latching on to your hold as his gaze now fixed to one of the painting.

A flower garden. Green and somewhat colorful with its surrounding flower shrubbery and fallen petals of what it looks like a cherry blossom leading to the palace. The painting looks as if it’s a picture taken in amidst of a flower petal hurricane.

“Knowing how she absolutely hate living in this palace, she always found consolation in painting. She cares about art and always made sure to pay visits to the royal art exhibition. Even though she burst out once when the poor staff was found not properly changing the theme banner for that one exhibition. And then, more and more people keep calling her the mad queen. She was never that.”

“That’s what’s important. For you to know that she isn’t, Seokmin.”

“Yeah, but it’s not enough. Not when i realize it was too late and then she was gone. When she gets called like that, even by our closest aid, i begin to feel distance towards her. Granted i was a stupid teenager. She was always so kind and gentle with me. But after dad passed and she begin her reign, all the spotlight and constant coverage of the media is just putting more distance between me and her. All because i didn’t want nothing to do with a kooky queen.”

“Oh Seokmin,” instinctively you pull him to a hug. Seokmin puts no resistance, sharply inhaling your scent as he pulls you closer. Your hands roam around Seokmin’s back in reassurance.

Time passed and Seokmin reluctantly pulls away, but his hand still wrapped around yours and softly tugging you to follow him. Staring at his turned back never felt more joyous. He led you to the lit fireplace. Deep into the corners of his studies.

Taking a seat on the sofa, Seokmin is still standing staring at the slowly raging fire until you tugged at your intertwined hand lightly. Seokmin absentmindedly took his seat beside you.

“When the news of the accident came, i was so far away from her. At the back yard playing golf. She was on her way back from a visit on the countryside. One that i was supposed to attend too.” You kept your hand on his, giving occasional squeeze to encourage Seokmin. “I kept thinking that i somewhat play a hand in her loneliness. Even though i knew how much she hate it here, i play dumb and ignored her even when we stay under one roof. I could’ve made the effort to visit her, just to say hi.”

“I know she would be happy just knowing that you remembered her as kind and gentle.” Your soft reply are accompanied by the soft crackling noise from the fire. A smile to let Seokmin knows that it’s okay.

Seokmin swore to be better. To care more, and not keeping a blind eye to the wrongdoings that happened under his reign. Continuing his mother’s legacy and trying to better her name. Even though he realized that it’s an effort out of regret, Seokmin quite literally has no other way to make up to his mother.

“She was a far more better leader than my father ever was. I regret that i never got to say it to her.”

“You’re kind enough to be just like her. The rest can fall into place as you learn through time.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. I might only be here through an inopportune circumstances, but you still treat me at least like a human being.” You confess through a tight smile. Surprise colouring Seokmin’s face. “I never admit it to my parents but i was miserable at school. I only got there through my mom’s old job here, but they were so happy for me. I could’ve reject the offer, but you know those rejection means to me. A mere commoner who think they’re too good for the prestigious royal academy.”

Seokmin sighed at the knowledge. He knew education at royal academy is somewhat a reward to whoever has plead their service to the palace. But he also acknowledge the class difference that happened there and how some people are just plain shitty sometimes.

“You’re far better than half of the people in that ‘royal’ academy.” Seokmin’s hushed reply sending a butterfly of excitement in your stomach. Emphasizing his slight disgust at the word ‘royal’. You squeeze his hand in assurance. You don’t have the confidence to look at Seokmin like this.

And if later when you fall asleep on your own bed and illuminated by the tablet by your side, when Seokmin manage to pull the blanket to cover you properly— Seokmin turn his way back to the connecting door quickly.

He doesn’t have the confidence to not tuck the hair that fallen to your face. The lingering warmth on his hand from a touch of your skin is proving his heart wants too much than he could handle.

\\

“Are you sure about this?”

You only smile to yourself at Yeri’s constant question. Already know the answer and simply letting Yeri pestering you for her own satisfaction.

“I mean, yes everything is well prepared and food choices are good as always. But still, this new venue are gonna raise the expectation up to the roof tomorrow.”

You can practically hear Yeri shaking across the coffee table. You still has your eyes to the document on your hand.

“We’ve been planning this for a long time. I went through a lengthy process to make sure the garden are fitting enough for the spring festival. You said it yourself that it’s a ‘casual’ festivities.” You replied calmly, finally putting down the paper to face Yeri.

“I know. It’s just i’m worry those snobby nobles are gonna talk about you just because you suggested a new thing for this event. I mean, yeah it’s casual but some of these people treat this brunch parties like a ballroom gala. So everything has to be all gold draped ballroom and chandelier. They want to enjoy the rich they didn’t deserve.”

“So tacky.” You huffed, gesturing at the window to Yeri. In her slight annoyance, then looking to the window to see the bright greeneries. “It’s so beautiful outside, i even talk to three sources for the weather prediction. Seokmin’s mother and the Queens before her made these occasion so that the people in the court felt homely and welcomed. I intend to upheld it, not making it just an excuse to drink champagne and eat cake.”

“God knows they done enough of it to last a lifetime.”

You throw a look of understanding to Yeri’s word, glad that your newfound friend eventually agrees to you. Not that there’s anything she can do to stop your plan though, all the preparation was done for tomorrow. The usually empty field of grass surrounded by the cherry blossom trees are fully decorated and all the flower shrubs carefully trimmed.

Returning to the document in hand, you allow yourself to feel half relieved. Not that reading itinerary and budgeting calms you down, but moving on to another task felt like a completion to your work. All that’s left is saving some energy to put on a straight face when you’re eventually forced to socialize tomorrow. And you can’t sneak halfway like you did on the last occasion. You can feel your neck already tightened to the thought of tomorrow.

Later that night, you try to relax yourself to sleep. Laying sideways on your bed to focus on the movie you put on, treating it as a white noise to lulls you to sleep. After half an hour your eyelids already grew heavy, but the sound of the door closing let you became alert once more.

Through the opened connecting door, you can see that Seokmin has return. Quite early than usual.

You don’t mean to be nosy but the gap on the door is letting you see Seokmin going about around his room. Unbuttoning his shirt as he lightly ruffles his hair with a huff. The usual neatly styled hair has come undone, following the rest of his shirt button while Seokmin disappear to his bathroom. The sound of showers that follows only making you more alert.

Just close the door, you should be sleeping.

At least that’s what your conscience are saying. Fortunately you remain glued to your bed. Enjoying the light muffle sound of the shower, and the occasional hums of him singing.

Time surely flew because suddenly you realize that Seokmin finished with his shower and he shuffles out from the bathroom. Drying his damp hair and clad in a simple white T-shirt. You can see it so clearly, because Seokmin caught your staring eyes.

“Hey, you’re still awake.” Seokmin stood in the doorframe, looking devastatingly normal yet it made your heart skip a beat. “Well, usually you’re always asleep when i’m back. Leaving whatever is playing in your tablet on.”

“You came home early. So we’re both out of our routine.” You sat up on your bed, feeling a bit embarrassed that Seokmin essentially saw you passed out watching movie like a child.

“I guess we did.” Seokmin was silent for a moment. His hand, rested on the doorknob is having an internal debate whether he should close it or leave it as is. Half of himself also hoping that you tell him what to do.

“Are you going to sleep?” It took awhile until Seokmin shake his head as your question caught him off guard. “Do you want to watch this with me?”

Once again, your thought could barely catch up with your words. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s your own desire. To have Seokmin close company as it soothe the creeping anxiety of tomorrow’s event.

Seokmin kept his silence. He does when he still stood in the doorframe, and remain until he stood by the end of your bed. It continues as he dropped the damp towel on the floor and he sit on the empty space of the bed.

You can smell the freshness of Seokmin’s aftershave as he sat beside you. It almost drove you insane.

“What are we watching?” Seokmin eventually spoke.

“Uhh, um. Emma. But we can watch something else if you want.” Your offer is met with another shake of his head, Seokmin’s curls almost looks bouncing under the dim light.

“No need, I love Jane Austen.”

Seokmin smile to you before pressing the play button on the screen. You could almost melt into your pillow as Emma continues her matchmaking venture.

It’s almost impossible for you to focus on the movie. As expected. It gets especially hard when you notice that Seokmin continues bowing his head as time passed. You then realize that Seokmin is fighting the same exhaustion and sleepiness.

“Seokmin, you can just sleep you know?”

Your question are met with mumbles. Seokmin barely has his eyes opened. You held back a laugh when couldn’t held his head upright, lolling around with another sets of mumble.

It eventually hits you that Seokmin is already fast asleep. Quickly pausing the movie, you try to not disturb him further.

Then, you’re thrown to another discord within yourself. Another desire to feed your heart. Now almost unrecognizable as it slowly morphed into need. For Seokmin.

The breathe you held eventually hitched altogether when Seokmin’s lolling head decidedly stops on your shoulder. It all happened unceremoniously yet felt like a slow motion in your head.

Suddenly that empty taunt of begging Seokmin to love you tightened your heartstring. Because you finally realize how you have been lying the whole time. That those taunt is not as empty as you have thought. It’s very much alive as it sleeps under your skin. Only now awaken in one late night in early spring.

You pushed the thoughts away and force yourself to sleep.

\\

Seokmin smiles in his sleep. The strange thing is, much of his friend remind him enough now he can feel it somewhat subconsciously. He also talks in his sleep, but having recorded it once is enough for his curiosity.

And now, as his alarm clock gone off strangely faint, Seokmin can feel himself slowly awake with a smile. It remain until Seokmin eyes flutters open and the sight felt unfamiliar enough but not scares him.

How could he when he’s welcomed to your sleeping face. Close to his own while your arms around him is a special kind of warmth Seokmin has never dreamt of. Calmly, Seokmin tries to even out his breath. Not trying to wake you up, he needs to turn off his alarm in his own room. God knows you need all the sleep you can have for today.

He didn’t know how he ended up asleep being spooned by you, but its been one of the most restful sleep he has experienced of late.

Praying that he didn’t wake you up, Seokmin took almost half an hour trying to slid off your arms without disturbing you too much. The sun begin to stream into the room through the curtain when Seokmin stood free beside your sleeping figure. He decided to close the curtain to let you sleep some more.

Seokmin painted the picture of your serene sleeping figure in his mind before he decidedly part with it. His day waiting. What solace he found is to meet you later in the event you have so tiredly arrange.

The moment Seokmin disappears to his own room though, you let go of the breath you’ve been holding. Although Seokmin’s effort all for nil, you appreciate the little you can peek, of Seokmin’s smiling face and his little tiptoe to his room.

The little action fortunately gave you enough strength to start your day. Not that the event last night didn’t give you enough. All the butterflies still fluttering in your stomach almost making you flails around on your bed like a high school kid.

After a while, you manage to calm yourself and get out of bed. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself that you have a big day ahead. You push aside the thoughts of last night and focus on the tasks at hand.

\\

“Of course she wouldn’t dare to came here with that.”

“Surely i wouldn’t let any of these people in.”

“The food though, it’s heavenly.”

“I mean yeah, the garden is pretty as well.”

If you could roll your eyes with every off-handed remarks you’ve been hearing, your eyeballs would’ve run laps around the whole garden. You try to focus on the little laughters of children playing near the blooming flowers. There’s a faint sound of music flowing, blending well with the hushed noise of people talking amongst themselves.

Seokmin has offered a few words to open the festivities after you, and then kindly disperse to talk amongst the few he could calls close friends. You recognize a few.

Yeri and a few seemingly kind ministers and nobles have been congratulating you on how the event have been arranged so beautifully. It’s enough to calm your anxious thoughts. Fearing that some unexpected little snaggle would ruin the long planned event.

You were in deep conversation with who appears to be Jeonghan’s mother. Who had claimed she went to the same school as Seokmin’s mother and as you found out later, your father. She’s kind and doesn’t make you feel as though you’re an outsider, trying to avert your attention from the gossiping snobs.

“Now, where is Seokmin? I sure hope Jeonghan or someone other isn’t keeping him up from you.” Jeonghan mother has a quick look towards you before she continues. “Now darling, you know you have someone to trust in the palace. If you ever feel lonely or just needing someone to have tea, you can count on me. Jeonghan might be insufferable or unexpected at times, but he’s just doing his best on his job as well as trying to protect Seokmin.”

They all do. You aren’t dense enough to not notice the slight wall they have been putting. The closest ones that Seokmin kept around him, Wonwoo, Chan, or even Jeonghan. There are times when their eyes were of eagles to you. Wary, and ready to pounce if you make a slight notion of threat towards Seokmin.

“Thank you ma’am.”

“Oh don’t ma’am me. You’re Seokmin’s wife, i’m practically your in laws. Oh excuse me honey, i have to save my husband from his third slice of your glorious cake.” Jeonghan’s mother hurriedly pat your arm. “This was all beautiful your majesty. What a great idea to have the festivities out here. Cheers.”

The sudden lost of companion sent a tense smile to your face. Continuous greetings and various degree of smile has your face feeling almost numb. But it doesn’t beat the tense muscles on your shoulder and back. One would’ve thought you were dropped on a pen full of hyenas, not a brunch festivities.

Decidedly, you make way to the mimosas stand. Passing another group of young ladies of the court. Probably fresh graduate from the same academy you went to. You’ve noticed they have took camp near either the mimosa stand or champagne table.

“Have you seen the king? He’s not even going near his wife. Maybe that rumor were true, they were only married cause she trapped him with pregnancy. But she doesn’t lo-”

“Talking about rumour, have you heard that he’s on a brink to launch a witch-hunt? The king is trying to pin down every one of his generals and ministers who had a hand on corruption. After that it could be the nobles.”

“Oh crap then we couldn’t really go anywhere this summer. My father would only let me to go the beach resort.”

“Pity, we were planning on the chalet though.”

“He truly ruins everything, ever since he got married to-”

Out of the blue, a hand grip your arm and brought you flush to a body. The same hand snaked around your waist and successfully turning your attention away from the gossiping bunch. Your surprised face is quickly welcomed to Seokmin’s smile. With his hair down and the curls showing through, you’ve never thought seeing Seokmin this relaxed around these people.

“Sorry if i startle you.” Seokmin’s voice was soft, yet your eyes traveled downwards to his touch around your waist. “Oh, pardon-”

“It’s okay Seokmin, there are many eyes looking.” You closely whisper the words, keeping the smile to not let Seokmin fumble anything.

So Seokmin kept his hold around still, as you finding a sliver of solace from his presence. The mimosa you just picked up doesn’t posses its original charm.

“Those girls are talking smack. It’s best to ignore them.” Seokmin wasn’t a royalty yesterday. He can hear and notice all the eyes and attention towards him and every single movement he made. Also it made him excel in ventriloquism. It amuses you slightly.

“Oh i’m used to to see them at the academy. I’m not surprised the slightest. What appears more surprising is the way you wear your hair.” Seokmin instinctively touches his hair, then laughs lightly. “You look good. Don’t worry.”

“I figure this is an outdoor brunch, a formal jacket should be enough and might as well give my hair a break.”

“You couldn’t tell Wonwoo that?” Seokmin turn to his bodyguard, laughs when he sees the same Wonwoo he sees everyday. The alertness tight in his feature as he’s clad in the same suit and tie. Not quite fitting with the blooming pastels and flowers around him.

“I’ll make sure he wears pink tie next time. Remind me of that. By the way I haven’t had chance to say this earlier but congratulations, this was fun and such a nice changes than years before. At least out here there’s less people doing dodgy things.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think about it like that. I just think about the cherry blossoms and what a waste it could go if we didn’t do anything to commemorate it. Spring brunch seems fitting.”

Seokmin gaze down to your side profile. Your eyes set far to the hustle and bustle of people talking to each others and enjoying their time. A slight taut in your temple worries him a little but also sent a tingle of endearment down to his guts. He took a deep breath instead, keeping his hold on you steady. Preparing to greet one of the old generals he recognize, already making his way with a plate of cake in hand.

Eventually it was past the high noon and one by one people are filing out of the garden. You had inform Yeri that the staffs could begin cleaning up, and making sure that they maintain the shape of the place like it was before.

You took refuge on one shady corner under a tree. Seokmin is nearby, talking to someone you could recognize as one of the firefighter that has been invited to the palace a few weeks ago. Mingyu. Your mind provided.

So they are truly friend.

Some of the staffs flitting around are kind enough to leave you alone or just shortly expressing their congratulations. While preparing for this event, you can’t help to grown close among them. Trying to plan and choreograph every movements and manners to handle a bunch of high profile nobles.

You also learned so much from them throughout. How to manage a party in the court, and knowing little details regarding the palace and it’s notion of tradition. How you somewhat breaking it, yet keeping it to the better. One of the young server once shyly said to you as you helped to fold the napkin in preparation.

The exhaustion slowly crept into your body, you feel like you can sleep through the day after this. For now you enjoy the breeze and the rain of cherry blossom petals that eventually covered the grass. Closing your eyes as you enjoy the slight scent of sun and soon to be summer.

“Congratulation again, Y/n.” Seokmin appears next to you, he walks closer after signaling Wonwoo to keep his guard down.

“Thanks, i’m glad some people enjoyed it.”

Seokmin raised his brows, he stood close, wanting to find the same shade as yours. Trying to see what you see.

“I for one enjoyed it. Although i’d prefer your waffle than what’s being served. Even though some of these people don’t really deserve your cooking.” You laughed at Seokmin’s seriousness regarding your culinary expertise.

“I think i prefer only cooking at our residence rather than catering to hundreds of people.”

Seokmin mutters a low agreement. His eyes then drop to the ground where his feet plays with some of the fallen petals. Even on the dirt, the delicate thing remain looking so innocent and somewhat untouched from outside forces.

“Can i ask though? Why here? Why this very place? An odd corner by the palace yard while there’s many other space you can choose.” You hummed to Seokmin’s curiosity. Paired with his eyes to you.

“Well, like i said i adore the cherry blossom and although this is a somewhat odd choice i figure it might be familiar to you.”

Seokmin instantly frown upon your reasoning. Confusion turns his body closer to you, a smidge of worries rests on his brown eyes. It almost makes you guilty but his own confusion surprised you.

“I have to say, i have no idea of this very corner of the garden until you brought it up for the meeting a few weeks ago.”

By this point, trying to explain to Seokmin felt like an unnecessary task. So you bit your lips in contemplation, before looking around the currently sparse ground. There’s only a few staffs finishing the cleanup and a few people still chatting as they walking away.

“I can show you, i think it’ll be better.”

Seokmin stares at your extended palm, but now he immediately took it unlike the last time by the tower. With careful steps, you lead through the sparse trees and climbing slightly up the little hilly terrain.

His growing curiosity are currently sidetracked with Seokmin’s focus are now on to his connected hand to yours. It felt warmer than the sunlight he’s been basking the whole day. The lingering excitement also flutters his heart familiarly.

Reaching the peak of the hill, and past the cherry blossom tree, you stopped and immediately turned Seokmin’s body to face the view.

At first Seokmin looks ahead, briefly frown in his confusion. Still not understanding your action. But then he slowly focus beyond the soft pink top of the trees and the few visible bushes of flowers are vast green ground that rolls seamlessly into the palace. It looks beautiful, and now just like you said, felt familiar to his heart.

Seokmin’s mother was a skillful painter. What he didn’t manage to realize was how his mother often paints her surroundings.

The very view bear the most resemblance to the painting his mother did, now hung in his own study. The same painting that greets him when Seokmin enters the room. Accompany his late nights hunching over stacks of documents.

A sense of nostalgia hits him. The very longing of a time and place he didn’t quite experience, but now he missed dearly. Seokmin imagines his mother hauling her own easel and big canvas, along with her bag of paints and brushes into this very spot and beginning her sketch.

Seokmin would never know, because he never paid attention to his mother.

“Now do you see it?” Your expectant words steals Seokmin’s attention, back to the time at hand.

Seokmin turns his head instantly to you, smiling so excitedly now that he is clearly in on your idea. Instantly his heartbeat run faster. The culmination of his outburst has come to this. Your smiling face on an afternoon as you look normally worn but somehow the way your hair went a little out of its place is endearing on its own way.

Seokmin likes it either way.

This early morning when it splayed as a result of your sleep. Before the party where you had successfully styled it neatly to not distract you during the event. Heck he realizes he loves it when you’re working out your thought in the kitchen, trying recipes you found of just coming back to classics just to distract your mind.

Seokmin loves it all.

You took a stumbling step back when Seokmin lunged forward, but a familiar hand steadies you and a kiss is placed on your lips. Startled, it took you awhile until your eyelids fluttered close and reply the kiss. Applying the same showcase of power and delicateness with the way Seokmin’s other hand has cupped your cheek.

As Seokmin slowly pulls away, you can’t help the gasp that escaped your just-kissed lips. Seokmin smiles and dive in for a peck for good measure.

Your hand slowly raise to touch your own lips. A part of amazement tickle the notion that Seokmin’s kiss are merely an illusion. But the warm timbre of his laugh are proving enough that this is real.

“You surprised me completely that day in the library. You continues to do so, watching over me like i’m someone special and yet you makes me remembers that i am just me. Normal. Not in a bad way, but you make me remembers all the good little things i used to take for granted. You give me confidence to feel sad and sometimes so powerful, yet the worst is you’re making me want you. Not in a way that is logically possible for me to be. It droves me mad, that every little glance i took of you are never enough. It makes me want you close, illogically close that it gives me idea to cuff us together which is insane. You’re making me insane Y/n.”

Seokmin paused as he chuckles. As if he didn’t just burst your heart into a million pieces of confetti from happiness. “Of all the things and all the knowledge stored inside that old dingy library, you were the best thing i came to know and love.”

The sunshine above and falling flowers below feels more fitting as a witness compared to your wedding day. Seokmin confession could bring you to tears but the sheer disbelief in your mind are pumping enough adrenaline to keep you aware. Of how Seokmin’s touch feels against your skin, like it’s tattooed. Oh how his breath fanned to your face, warmer than the sun.

“Y/n please say something. You’re driving me crazy.”

This time, you took Seokmin off guard. Thankfully he’s fit enough to capture your lunging figure as you kiss him as a reply. Seokmin momentarily grin widely, before replying to your kiss. Cradling your face in his hand, Seokmin keeps his lips moving along yours in sync and harmony.

It almost feel embarrassing the way your heart leaps and bounds from Seokmin’s kiss. That one you share on your wedding day felt like a drab copy of something quite simply very precious. Now, on top of a hill where people minding their work could very much peer into, you’re kissing Seokmin with the same intensity that has been brewing since the day you challenge the same King to love you.

Seokmin doesn’t fail to keep feeding you the side of him that stunted your heartbeat ever so often. Even his kisses almost rendering you into a puddle of mess. Only Seokmin’s touch keeping you afloat.

Pulling away, you buried your fingers on his tuft of hair to keep him still in your reach. Seokmin breaks out into a grin over your display of possessiveness. He rested his forehead to yours and closed his eyes, letting the moment sink in and his heartbeat slow down. Because if you continues more with the way you kiss him, Seokmin doesn’t have the confidence to stop himself from acting out of his greed right there where almost anyone important can see.

“My dear King. You know quite well i still love you.”

\\

You both know for a fact that Seungkwan and Yeri are purposefully clearing your schedule for the day. No meetings, no budget planning, and no documents to go over for the rest afternoon.

It left the residence became reasonably empty.

A few weeks ago, it would drove you mad. Sending you to take walks around the palace. Although it became the reason how you discovered places you see in the paintings surrounding you.

“I can’t believe i didn’t know the places my mother has painted.”

Seokmin rests against the desk in his study. His words tickle your ears as he rests his head on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry, i thought you knew that.”

The two of you decided to return to the study and then gaze some more to the painting of the garden you had spend the whole day in.

“Don’t be sorry, i’m just a bad son. That’s factual.”

You release yourself from Seokmin’s embrace. Turning to face a dumbfounded Seokmin—the frown on your face made him do so.

“No. You. Are. Not.”

That made Seokmin instantly laugh. Like you didn’t just scold him.

“I’m serious Seokmin, you cannot keep blaming yourself for everything. Starting with this.”

Seokmin’s eyes traces to your face. His laughter quickly dies down when he realizes the seriousness in your words. Seokmin caught your idle hand and pulls you closer—your body flush against his.

“I’ll do my best.” Seokmin paused, resting his hand on your back. “I will do so if you stay by my side. We’re together now.”

“Seokmin, we’ve been together for awhile you know.”

“That— well that is true.” Seokmin replied between his laughter. “So, do you found any other places from my mother’s painting?”

“Hmm maybe. I saw so may painting in this palace. I wouldn't know your mother's every painting.”

“That's easy. If you look closer, each of my mother's painting have this special signature.”

Seokmin took your hand and lead you closer to the painting. He pointed to one of the corner and surely enough, almost obscured in the greens are little writing in cursive saying ‘To. DK’

“DK? Who is that?” At your curious gaze Seokmin simply grin, a sense of pride latched in it. One you rarely seen nowadays.

“That’s me, it’s a short for Dokyeom. Mom gave me that nickname when i was little. She only calls me that in private, i don’t think even my dad knows. So it feels special. Like our own secret.”

Seokmin likes how it sounds, as you repeated the name on your lips. He couldn't hide his growing grin as you follow the same.

“Now it's not so secret anymore then.”

“You’re special too, aren't you?”

When you broke into a bashful laughter, Seokmin grins wider. A childlike image that you seldom associated with him, but with simple smile and some trust, Seokmin shown you another side of him for you to love.

The residence has never been emptier, with only the two of you in it. But for tonight, sleeping in each other embrace after breathlessly kissing one another felt suffice to render the residence full enough.

\\

The long car ride is not new for Seokmin. Cramped in machine powered metals and his sole company is the low hum of said machine. But now he has you by his side. Curiously peering outside into the pouring rain.

“Your majesty, it’ll be wise to think about alternatives if the storm isn't clearing up.” Seokmin and Wonwoo exchange looks through the rear view mirror.

You and Seokmin are making the travel back to the palace after a visit to a community hospital in the rural area. Unfortunately rain pours along the way and it does not seem to let up as the road you traveled getting more and more hard to drive with the low visibility.

Seokmin glance at you, still glued to the view outside and letting Seokmin make the decision. The soft squeeze you give his hand assuring Seokmin that you trust him and he doesn't need to worry about you.

Eventually Seokmin nodded and Wonwoo is quick to inform the following cars to make a turn in the nearest exit.

“We're stopping by the nearest estate until the storm passed.” Seokmin informs you calmly. His hand however, holding on to yours tight as if it's his own guidelines. You smile to assure him that it's fine.

You both were quick to be welcomed by the staffs after getting off the car. Escorted with bows and every form of congratulatory words. You almost felt overwhelmed if not for Seokmin’s warm reply to each of the welcoming staffs.

“Care to tell me whose estate is this?” You joked, currently making way inside the parlour. Seokmin gave you a small smile and pulling you sit close.

“Mine.”

“Of course.”

To no one's surprise, the old and somewhat humble estate is cared and managed by the late Queen and ever since her reign it has been rendered empty.

Only Seokmin often visits as an escape the stifling life of the palace.

It certainly explain the same lived in feeling you get from the residence. Although being a part of the palace, Seokmin manage to decorate and not make the space feels untouched.

Now he has you to share this with.

Seokmin lead you to his room. Then lending you the clothes he kept as a change. He notices the tight uncomfortable bodice you often wear to the events. Deciding that an old comfy T-shirt would suffice for waiting out the storm. And seeing the time, it could be all night.

Seokmin are quickly gone and changed into a shirt and pair of shorts. An old cardigan he pulls out of the bottom of his closet to finished his look. You saw Seokmin out of his formal attire often. But this kind of look, worn with his natural curls down and the same relaxed looks he's been having nowadays are a treat as you discover another side of him to burn in your memory.

You’re searching for Seokmin as you walk out of the empty room. Changed into the clothes Seokmin gave you. You had foregoes any pants he gave because it’s all too big for you. Decided to keep the shorts you’ve been wearing under the dress.

Following the strange shout and sounds of excitement that bounced off of the wall, you found Seokmin and a few bunch of his other bodyguards hunched over the coffee table in the parlour.

“Wonwoo you need to help me here. I’m about to be destroyed.” Seokmin cries lightly.

“No, you don’t deserve my help. Yet.” Wonwoo was as curt as ever. Although a smirk growing on his lips.

The hunched over figures are focused on the board game in hand. A smile crept to your face as you see the relaxed manner they’re having, not on guard, and treating Seokmin as if he’s just another guy. It felt fitting because Seokmin spent most of his time with them. Especially Wonwoo, now sitting with his tie loosened up as he look at Seokmin sideways. The king is asking help to fight off the monsters in his territory but only met with rejection.

The other bodyguards resort to avoided Seokmin’s look as he plead rescue.

You decided to left them all to explore the estate. Greeted by the few and kind staffs who has kept the estate up and well taken care of. Some share stories of how they have been here since the late Queen’s pregnancy and some saw Seokmin grew up inches each summer he visits.

You were shown to most places and they kindly explained every story behind them. And didn’t forgot to lament the fact that they can’t show you around the garden. It has been kept beautifully by the joint effort of the old gardener and the late queen Herself.

“I only hope none of these violent wind and rain gonna wreck the garden. If it stays through the night, then i simply have to see it in the morning.” You’re met with the noise of passionate agreement before some dispersed to get the room and kitchen ready for dinner. Already in faith that the thunderous rain will last the night.

When you offered to help for dinner, you’re met with vehement refusal. Telling you to enjoy the free time you get. So you wander off to the found library.

You feel awfully cozy as you found a reading nook and covered yourself with the crocheted blanket in the colours resembling Van Gogh starry night. The book you found is an old illustration book from the mid 17th century. You can feel Seokmin’s mother affinity with painting as half of the shelves are filled with books about art.

Not forget mentioning the few paintings you’ve seen along the hallway. You begin to wonder if any had the secret signature directed to Dokyeom. The thought grew a smile in your face. Even though upon quick inspection you have not seen any.

The thunder and soft pattering of rain against the big glass window overlooking the nook sends a wave of calmness through your body. Although coming here was literally unplanned, you thanked the bad weather for giving you and Seokmin a chance to slow down and enjoy the impromptu ���vacation’.

You were in the middle of admiring the old copy of Don Quixote when a thudding sound of footsteps found you. Then come a grinning figure of Seokmin.

“There you are! I’ve been searching all over the place.” Seokmin saunters over to you. Currently hunched over said book.

“I’m disappointed you didn’t found me faster. The night has fallen and you barely found me.” You feigned hurt and Seokmin pulls a scandalous gasp. You catch the slight pink tinge on his cheeks.

“Pardon my tardiness, Wonwoo and the others has beaten my ass on the game. On top of that they bust out the alcohol stash.” Stumbling steps taken as Seokmin sets his eyes to you.

“I see. And exactly how much of this stash have you consumed?” An amused glint in your eyes, observing the flush on his skin as the proximity lessen.

Seokmin only grin, then he lunges forward and kissed you. An action out of impulse. Seokmin alcohol-powered nerve has been holding on to thin threads as he focused on your lips. Slowly moving in unison, Seokmin can feel all the sighs of content from you. Stumbling on his own legs, Seokmin follows your lead as you—in return push him backwards. Mostly chasing his lips for more.

Until Seokmin back finally meeting some sort of surface—table he assume, Seokmin is quick when he flip the two of you. Now having you pinned between his body and the table. You pulled back, then realizing how you have landed on this position.

How despite your sobriety, Seokmin managed to shown his strength and you ended up cornered and compromised. Although you would love it if it happened like this. Being pinned by Seokmin, while he has his thigh between your legs.

Your heart couldn’t run even faster as a shudder went down your spine. Excitement tingling your nerves.

Seokmin only pulls you closer, resting his forehead on yours with a smile. His eyes has turn for the dark. The sharp edges underlying his feature sets its focus on you. Seokmin’s hold are always soft and gentle, the same ones you associated every time he looks at you. But right now, his touch burns and such desperation flow from his eyes and the fingers that digs into your clothed flesh.

In bated breath, as if waiting for your approval, Seokmin dove in a flash and hungrily captures you in a breathless kiss. A yelp from you only feeds to Seokmin’s greed. Fire of hunger Seokmin doesn’t realize has buried under his skin.

Now consuming his whole as you quietly mewl when Seokmin only deepened the kiss. Licking your lips hungrily, then catching yours in a sweet whimpers.

“Yo, Ms. Winter said dinner is- oh crap.”

In good reflexes, you try to hide yourself into Seokmin’s soft cardigan. But to no avail since the man in front of you won’t budge. Kept himself between your legs and hand rested on your bare skin. The intruder—Wonwoo, can be heard scrambling. Shoes tapping furiously against the floor in search for direction and eventually echoes away after Seokmin gave the other a long look of saying to leave the two of you alone.

A beat passed and you can feel Seokmin lessening the gap once again. Now his lips latched onto the column of your neck. Delayed with processing the situation, you relish the feeling yet still voicing the question in your head.

“Seokmin,” he replies your call of slight distress with a hum. “Wonwoo saw us!” You still can’t mask the urgency, but Seokmin’s touch remained growing hot on your skin.

Pulling away, Seokmin merely smile before taking your lips once more. Only leaving milimetres to voice his thought.

“He sees us all the time.”

“Seokmin!”

As much as you tried to avoid Wonwoo and the embarrassment after the encounter, you were quite famished and filing into the dinner table behind Seokmin only earning you a giggle from the slightly drunk Seokmin.

Intoxication has turn his confidence through the roof.

“Ms. Winter, i can always count on you to make such delicious meal. Especially in a weather like this.”

Nods of approval filled the room. At the head of the long table, Seokmin hums and exclaims of satisfaction made you rigid on your seat. Especially when you sat across of Wonwoo.

Who seemingly in the same situation as you.

Well not that he’s holding on to Seokmin’s hand under the table.

“The King and Queen as well as their entourage will always be welcomed with our best food. Please do enjoy the rest of the night. The storm does not sound like it will let up soon.”

Immediately after that, there’s a thundering sound in the sky. But the conversation continues regardless. It felt weird at first. Bunch of Seokmin’s personal details in such relaxed stance and talking around as if they’re old colleague catching up after work.

Eventually it brought a smile to your face, seeing the intimacy of their relationship firsthand. That Seokmin has many people who will protect him not because it’s only their job, but they also sees him as a friend. You can see the sentiment mirrored in Seokmin smiles too.

“Are you well? Is the food not good?”

“No, no i’m just full Seokmin. This is actually too good. You haven’t paid attention to me, i’m on my second bowl of soup.”

Seokmin proudly smile, but also intrigued by your word.

“Why? Do you want my full undivided attention?” Seokmin grinned, before fully leaning closer to you. In hope to put some smile to your face.

“I’ve had your undivided attention before.” You begin, raising your brows at the growing mischievousness in Seokmin’s eyes. “I’d rather be far away from it.” Your grin only invites more of Seokmin’s competitive side.

“Oh really? I didn’t see you complaining about it earlier.”

There’s a choked up noise stealing both of your attention. In unison, you and Seokmin turns to the man across from you. Covering his mouth to mask his expression, but his eyes is almost scolding. Sharp look to each of you before returning to his food and blatantly avoiding his eyes from yours.

While holding back both laughter and a little embarrassment, you straightened up and return your attention elsewhere. Seokmin cleared his throat before doing the same.

While listening in to the lively discussion on the game before, your eyes fell to the corner of the room. Where a moderate size of painting hung amongst the tall cabinets of memorabilia.

The painting are frames in simple type of woods with no embellishment. Heck, the painting itself looks no more than ordinary. Looking like a shrub of garden roses but awash in darker light all over. Rendering the colours to look more dramatic and shroud in darkness. Except for one stalk of rose. It’s bright, but almost hidden amongst the shadow. It wasn’t much of orange but not pink either. Almost like the soft pink petals are highlighted with a tinge of apricot.

Among the shrub of ruby red roses, stood the one bright rose.

You begin to wonder if Seokmin’s mother is the painter.

\\

Most of Seokmin’s guards are either patrolling or turning in to get ready for their shift. So you decided to drag a lightly intoxicated Seokmin back to your sleeping quarters.

Before he decided to round up everyone to have another go at a game.

Despite the remaining awkwardness between you and Wonwoo, the stoic man thanked you before exhaling a particularly long sigh.

You only smile in reply.

Seokmin waste no time to plop down the bed. Closing his eyes before humming out of content. You chuckled before taking the time change and clean up.

By the time you return to bed, Seokmin must have sobered up as he sit on the bed. Leaning by the headboard. The empty look he given you only making you laugh some more.

“Y/n why am i suddenly so tired?”

This time you did more than a giggle. Nudging your husband as you join him by his side.

“The whole afternoon, you’ve been drinking, playing games, bothering me in the library, and then by the evening, you’ve been doing some more of that. Shenanigans.” Seokmin cringed to himself, a flash of regret sparks his partially sobered conscience. “Me and Wonwoo had to stop you and the others to start a relay race around the hallway.”

“Oh no, poor Ms. Winter and the others. I must’ve disturbed their rest.”

Seokmin trails as he buried his face into his palm in effort to hide at least half of his embarrassment.

You would have console him, but Seokmin simply looks too cute right now. So you let him wallow a little until Seokmin assures himself that this it will all be alright.

“You’re lucky Seungkwan isn’t here to scold you himself.”

Seokmin glares at you playfully.

“Okay, enough about me. Let’s rewind a bit, when did i bother you in the library?”

“Seokmin, you know exactly when.” You almost deadpanned. Yet Seokmin instead have a smile blooming in his face.

“I truly don’t. Do remind me, was it before or after dinner?” The shit eating grin in Seokmin face fully replaces the doom and gloom a few moments ago.

“Well i was cozy browsing books and reading under this such a pretty crocheted blanket until you sauntered in.” Nervously, you bit your lower lip.

Recalling the afternoon, you can help the smile on your face. The look Seokmin is giving you is not helping the slightest.

“I don’t recall you complaining about being ‘bothered’ though? If i remember, you were so eager to moan my na— oompgh!”

You simply have to shut him up. Climbing up to nestled yourself on top of Seokmin’s thighs and pull him to a kiss with much force. One that renders Seokmin breathless.

Ever since that day, the kiss on top of the hill, Seokmin always relish your kisses. How you seem to done so out of excitement. Including now, with both of your hands cupping Seokmin’s face as if its a lost jewel.

Even the slightest of your touch has a new habit of making Seokmin heart swell.

Seokmin pulls away first, leaving you hanging—longing. Swallowing down his initial thoughts, Seokmin lets you rest your forehead against his. A hint of smile on your lips as you catch a breath. Feeling like you’ve been the one who run laps around the hallway instead.

“I don’t know how to say this,” Seokmin murmurs, “but you drove me absolutely insane, yet so happy at the same time. How are you doing that?”

Biting your lips to hold back a smile, you softly grazes Seokmin cheeks. Hoping he can hear your thought instead of you pouring on ramble of how he makes you feel the same.

Despite your initial doubt for Seokmin, the whirlwind of life that’s coming at you felt endurable. With him by your side. Understanding him lets you fell deeper for Seokmin.

Much deeper than when you eventually realizes the kindness in his action, gentleness in his voice, and strength in his words.

This time you kiss him again, softer at first. Pulling Seokmin closer as you circle your arms to find some sort of leverage while Seokmin begins to chases your lips hungrily. His lips hover for a moment. Breathless.

“Can i?”

With the background of the thundering rain, you nodded quickly. Letting Seokmin pulls every clothing article as swift as his hands allowed. The pulls of your bare skin against his hands is just like magnets.

Noticing the slight shivers on your shoulder, Seokmin easily flips the two of you over. Stripping himself just as quick before taking off his clothes altogether. All strewn in abandon on top of the velvet rug.

Diving quick, Seokmin kisses your bare skin. Toying with it while he maps way around the column of your neck. And with each step, your sigh of pleasure increase in volume. It feeds straight to Seokmin’s hunger.

Cradling your face Seokmin gaze down to your slightly glazed look. Lost in his kisses and touch.

With lips barely apart, Seokmin hovers. Warm heated breath fanning into your face in the same temperature.

“Please tell me if i’m worthy. To be with you like this.”

There’s a certain strain in Seokmin’s voice but it went unheard to your ears. A pleasurable matters clouded your whole senses. It went more askew upon Seokmin’s question.

“I choose to love you. I’m sure you held a special place in my heart more than other thing. Making you being here, right now at this moment is a happiness beyond comprehension.”

Seokmin spent a beat to look at the glimmer in your eyes. A kindness and compassion swirling into your aloof nature and inherent strength. Qualities that went unnoticed by yourself. But visible to Seokmin’s eyes. Each time embedded into his mind like a tattoo.

After a soft caress from his thumb, Seokmin then slowly dive down to capture your lips once more.

What starts with innocent exchanges of passion slowly turns to a heated exchange of needing each other’s touch. A space none of you venture yet together. Only came close earlier until Wonwoo came sauntering in.

Now Seokmin lets his touches roam free. All the expanse of your skin. Left burning and sparked in chills altogether. Seokmin couldn’t hide the smirk growing on his lips as your moan grew louder. Eyes closed and drowning in bliss above the soft bedding. You raked your hand over Seokmin broad and bare back before settling to bury your fingers into Seokmin’s tresses. Hitched up breath in your throat.

“Don’t hold yourself back Y/n. I want to hear you.”

Seokmin waste no time, nimble fingers traveled to your anticipating core. He revel into your shuddering moan above the pattering sound of the rain.

“Fuck, Seokmin-”

Said fingers does wonder. More than you had ever imagines. Buried deep and finding various ways to incite more pleasure to course through your vein.

It’s hard to imagine you in this sort of position a few months ago. Doubting every decision you made while being lured deeper to Seokmin’s charms. His smile used to be scarce, even at the residence. But now you have him fingering you like he’s on a mission.

And by the shiver on your spine and the tight turn deep in your navel, Seokmin looked like he’s acing his mission.

“You’re this wet just from a few kisses honey. Imagine when i fuck you later.”

With one hand, Seokmin steadies his hold onto your waist. His other one continuously exploring your center and carefully inciting mewls and choked up noises of his name from your lips. A light grazes on your clit heightened your pleasure even more. It doesn’t help when Seokmin latches his lips to the valley of your breasts. Teasing chuckle escapes his lips in between ministration.

Hair splayed out and your bliss out face against the tangled up sheets, Seokmin drinks in the sight and the noises from your lips. A sudden urge to give you everything you need. Abandoning his own need just to have you warm and all sated out.

Content.

A sudden emptiness greets you. Seokmin wet fingers took a hold of your chin and brought your lips to his. A jarring chasteness after he’s just fingering you to oblivion. You have a feeling he’s leaving you hanging on purpose.

“Seokmin,” you whispers. Rather weakly as his lips hovers above you.

“Yes, darling.”

“Fuck me. Give me everything, i’m on pills.”

Within the dimmed light of the room, you can see a light flickered in Seokmin’s eyes. An immediate glint upon your words of confirmation. Unleashing an innate desire that’s been brewing right under Seokmin’s nose on these past months. Leaving him greedier for your every touch.

“Oh- god.”

Shuddering breath left your lips. Seokmin slowly lining up the tip of his cock into your glistening core. The mere grazes alone sent a cry out of your lips. Stealing glances at the reddening shaft as it disappear slowly into your welcoming warmth

Bunching up the sheets on your palm, Seokmin continues his thrust. Proving harder the moment he felt your heat enveloping his cock like a custom made glove. He adjusts his position so that he’s leaning on one elbow. Making him closer to you. As his other one pulling your leg up, gripping tight to the underside of your knee. The new position renders the pleasure tenfold.

Almost embarrassing you at how shaking you are just from having Seokmin’s cock buried deep.

“Breathe Y/n, you okay honey?”

“W-wait, i need a moment.”

Seokmin nuzzles his nose into your neck, you can feel him nodding lightly. Even above the overwhelming sensation of pleasure. There’s a light whispers of sweet nothings. Seokmin placed fluttering kisses on every expanse of skin he can found.

It soothe’s the initial overload over your frazzled nerves. Leaving now, only the pleasure knotting deeper into your guts. Leaving you needing to have more than just being stuffed full of Seokmin’s cock.

“M-move Seokmin, ah-”

The groan from above followed almost immediately. He wouldn’t admit it, but waiting for you is truly testing his patience and self-restraint. After the initial thrust, Seokmin continues in repeat. Drinking in the sight of you. Mouth agape and head thrown back. Delicious moan after another racing in volume with the rain outside.

Seokmin digs his grip tighter to you. As if it could anchor the feelings in his head. Swirling dangerously close with the raw pleasure you’re giving him. As if it could anchor him down to earth. Not exactly when you’re constantly squeezing his cock with every thrust. Taking him deeper and closer to his orgasm.

A hand rake through his back. The sliver of sting woke Seokmin up, only to dissipate further into pleasure. Low growl he huffs into the valley of your breasts.

You can feel it, Seokmin no longer chase the feeling in abandon. It’s a precise move in angle he found. The one that resulting in the tremble in your legs. Now propped up on Seokmin’s arms. With every thrust, you know Seokmin enjoys this incidental torture. You gasping in thin breath of plea, yet Seokmin maintain his pace.

As if you couldn’t be more pleasured, Seokmin grip your thigh and lifting it higher at an angle.The cry of content escaped your lips. Caring no more to keep any decency. Not that you’ve been doing so in the past hour. A smirk blooms in Seokmin’s face, framed by his hair stuck close to his skin from sweat.

“Are you close darling?” Seokmin dares to whispers into your neck. Only to met with your jumbled words spilling under your furrowed brows. “I can feel you so tight around me— fuck.”

It spurs Seokmin movements even more. Like a crazed man, with enough stamina to put you in a more chokehold, Seokmin managed to hit every spots that makes your entire body shakes in pleasure. With drastic difference, his lips and sweet words planted all along the expanse of your skin. Mixing in a glistening remain of sweat as you’re nearing your release.

“O- oh god Seokmin please.”

Seokmin felt twisted. How your begging only pumping more pleasure through his vein. He felt almost impossible to stop. Wanting to give you everything and lets you float on this high as long as he could. Basking in the warmth and pleasure of your sweet moan, and now, the softest plea, Seokmin felt even crazier than he felt these past months.

“Tell me, Y/n darling. Tell me, what you need.”

“Fuck, please. Please stuff me full.”

With a low groan, Seokmin buried his face to your neck. His teeth toying with your collarbone, giving you more heightened sensation to guide you to your orgasm. One hand wrapped around the splayed hair of yours and the other securing one leg up as Seokmin continues his heavy thrust. Wasting no more seconds, your breath simply hitched as you let yourself go. Crescendo of pleasure bursting through your body in myriad of ways. Even as you completely lost yourself through the orgasm, somehow you could feel Seokmin smiling into your skin. His thrust never lost its heaviness, but became more sloppy as Seokmin chases his own finish. Glistening skin against one another while the obscene sound of the squelch accompany his every moves. It took him no longer.

With little to no announcement, as you still catching your own breath, warmth fills you in spurts. Seokmin stuttering breath and loud whimpers follow through before he completely lets go of his strength. Managed to fall not directly on to you but somehow resting his head on your arms. Little kisses he plants on your shoulder.

“I love you, my Queen.”

Your heart could burst altogether. Caring not how his words could only be just a moments passed. Hearing it from Seokmin as he looks like that? You were never God’s strongest soldier.

“I know, Seokmin. I do too.”

Breathless smile grazes Seokmin’s feature. The pattering rain still well harmonizing itself with thunders.

\\

“You look awfully cozy in my clothes.” Seokmin mutters, face down into the pillows. The naked expanse of his back artfully covered by the duvet.

“I know, i feel so too. Might steal it in case i miss you.”

An immediate response as Seokmin raise up from his position.

You had spent the last 30 minutes freeing yourself from his strong grip. And not without the childlike whine from your husband about wanting to stay longer tangled on the bed.

Thankfully you’re stronger in will and manage to essentially clean up and get ready to return to the palace after the impromptu night out.

“Oh so you miss me enough to needing my piece of clothing with my lingering perfume huh?”

“That was…not the point.” You argue.

“But it’s not wrong either huh Y/n?” And you lose.

You rolled your eyes with a grin, Seokmin already making his way towards you. In all of his morning glory. Paired with a blinding smile under his loosened curls.

“You know you're insufferable right?”

“I know i’m irresistible. I can see your eyes traveled somewhere other than my face. Noticeably lower, even.”

You hate that he's telling the truth. But you can't decide which you hate more. Seokmin’s playful side or his blunt honesty. His teasing nature is a strong contender for now.

In a mix of chuckle and a groan you make a quick grab to the floor and throw a piece of clothing towards the naked man.

“You ought to wear some clothes before Wonwoo came barging in like yesterday.” Seokmin makes a show of wearing his own clothes, still making his way to you. Fighting the urge to bite your lips and stop your husband’s doing.

“I’m sure we scarred him enough to let him have some decency to knock now.” Seokmin chuckles. Now clad in a low hanging trousers and a wrinkly white shirt.

“Oh, talking about yesterday. I was walking around the estate looking at paintings and i was secretly looking for your mother’s secret signature.” You paused to remembers all the long trek along the hallways before ending up at the library yesterday.

“I see you haven’t found it?” You nodded to Seokmin’s word. “I’m telling this because you’re special Y/n. It’s the painting in the dining room. Of roses shrub. If you look at the corner, she scribble ‘To. DK’.” His little excitements unknowingly mirror on your face.

“And talking about your mother, i remember seeing her when i was in kindergarten. Guess who i saw her with? Some little kid who run around the playground and trip on a pebble, ended up scarring his cheek.”

You are not unfamiliar to the small, barely visible remnants of scar on Seokmin’s cheek. The same cheek who now rose in smile as he discerns your words. The recent close proximities you’ve been having certainly jogs your mind of such incident you’ve been secretly keeping.

It was a rush of morning, many people gather around your school but only few are allowing nearby. You, being a student and having affinity to small, secluded spaces, have witness Seokmin who runs from his security details to chase something but eventually trip along the cold hard earth. You remember his mother running so quick to his aid and didn’t scold him at all, only worried gaze as her fingers turns bloody from Seokmin’s scar. The little crown prince tries his best to bury his cries despite his pain, but once the late Queen pulls him to her embrace, the dam broke loose and loud cries resounding around the strangely empty playground on your kindergarten.

“You’re kidding me.” Seokmin whispers behind his smile. The memories rushing all along his steps as he came over to you who chuckles at his own excitement.

“No, i am quite serious. You fell while chasing butterfly.” Your words tapered to a laugh all while Seokmin continues his face of disbelief.

When he tries to pry more information out of you, the familiar low tone of Wonwoo calling out from the door filled the room. Informing you both that you must haste to return to the palace.

You both spend the whole car ride whilst holding each other hand and trying to ignore Wonwoo’s pointed gaze. Whole morning spent in a car ride until the familiar rolling hills came to your view past noon.

Seokmin are quick to be whisked away by Seungkwan as soon as his feet touch the ground. Yeri shots you a pointed look, an amused smirk on her lips as she took a second look at Seokmin who walk past her. An unfamiliar smile on his face.

Probably mirrored in your face.

“Well, your highness. I hope you enjoy the impromptu night out despite the storm who quite literally swept the surrounding estate.” You hide your smile under the sleeve of your shirt. Still faintly smelling like Seokmin. “And i do hope you’re keeping the dress you wore yesterday safely, because it’s vintage Alaïa.”

Hearing the designer name from Yeri stopped you midsteps. Wincing when Yeri’s eyes grew as saucers. You can hear her scolding words even before she opens her mouth.

The rest of the day drag on as you tries to finish any assignment and paperwork on the foundation that has to be delivered urgently. Eventually, the strain of work worn you out after Yeri declared that your asssignment is done for the day. Not before reminding you that she’ll return tomorrow to discuss the continuation of your tour around the establishment that’s newly renovated through the foundation of the late Queens’

When Seokmin found you passed out by the sofa near the fireplace in his study, he smiled at your stirring—sleepy state.

Squinting at your surrounding, you smiled back at Seokmin before placing your hand to his cheek. He returns the smile before taking your hand to his.

“It’s late. Have you eaten, my Queen?” Oh you cannot get used to those words coming out of his mouth. It sent you somewhere you fear could never return.

“A- actually i haven’t. Yeri swamped me with paperworks. She runs this place like the Navy.”

Seokmin’s shoulder shakes as he laughs, yet it slowly replaced with a tired sighs. In his palms, your hand still held tightly. You can sense that it slowly turns towards some wort of an anchor for Seokmin.

Moments later, after agreeing to Seokmin’s invitation to dinner, the unusually empty residence welome you as Seokmin begins walking around the same empty kitchen. He’s determined to cook you something just to clear up his mind.

A habit he learned from you. Only that his skills now only ranged from fried eggs and fried rice.

You had admitted that you’re very much okay with a simple fried rice. Seokmin begins his tasks. On one morning, Seokmin had sleepily confess that he too wanted to learn such menial tasks in helping you to prepare breakfast.

You had then begins to teach Seokmin your simplest way of a fried rice. Since then, you had secretly waiting for the day Seokmin would offer you such food.

Now that it’s happening upon your eyes, you truly don’t know what to feel.

“Anything you need me to help?” You provided. Hoping that Seokmin asks for more than the fried rice task at hand.

Seokmin, who had already foregoes his jacket at the parlour sofa, now with rolled up sleeves, he kept his eyes to the cutting board. A forlorn smile hid in his face.

“Today there has been breaking news regarding my mother.” Seokmin begins. He now moved to turn the stovetop on. “The Royal Court of Justice is forced to open a case to halt every funding to every charity foundation she had built. Also, disbanding it on an account of corruption, security fraud, and even blood money.”

Showing the need to pour it all out of his chest, you let Seokmin continues. Not before you sighed in empathy.

“They launch strategic media attack on her. Discrediting her life work and trying end so many of her trust and charity works she built. Can you imagine how it would let so many people suffer? Thousands of people depends on those trust works and it let them have better life. And now some nobles want it to end because they hate to see it thrive and hindering of their own greedy corruption.”

“So they wanted to see it end even before i could continue her legacy.” Seokmin nodded at your words.

“They wanted to see it ends. Maybe it’s a revenge for the stunt we pulled with Seungcheol and Mingyu. Don’t want the heroic rewards they given turns to reveal how truly awful the situation are.”

“Seokmin, i-”

“I- know, i won’t blame anyone but those corrupted people. But it never lessen the hate i have for those so called nobles.” Seokmin flashes you a smile to try to ease your worry. “Anyway, i have instructed few close team of lawyers to look after every documents, procedures, and any stray footnotes anyone could miss during mother’s reign.”

“I’ll try to give them a visit to help tomorrow.”

The sizzling sound of the fried rice eventually filled in the silence that has stretch between you two. You don’t hate Seokmin for losing his words, time is needed for him to think clear and arrange his thought. Action spurs on his burst of emotion has proven to be ineffective to everyone around him.

For now, you both enjoy a simple indulgence of Seokmin’s cooking. Warm and filling to the unfamiliar empy void of the unknown that the two of you now face.

“You know, i should’ve learned how to do this properly before even thinking to cook for you like this.”

“Yeah, this is awful.” Your words snap Seokmin to looks at you incredulously.

You were trying to tease him to lift up his mood, but failed halfway when Seokmin’s face you with looks resembling a kicked puppy. When you almost fell over laughing, Seokmin eventually breaks a laugh. He looks at you with a side eye as he scoop the fried rice.

“Seokmin, this is good. You’re a good learner.”

“Yeah?” you nod to answer Seokmin. His smile grew twice, chewing through the food you complimented.

After finishing the plate quickly— you underestimate how actually hungry you are. The simple fried rice, cooked by Seokmin felt like the most filling food as of this moment. The dark kitchen, utensils lying around the moderately messy counter. The unusually empty residence. For once in a long time, you felt like a place is enough for you to call ‘home’.

“Hey, can you do this for me?” Seokmin looks at you curiously. Now that you tried to brought it up, a sudden wash of embarrassment filled your lungs. “Can you sing for me? Before it gets weird, i’ve overheard you humming and maybe singing a little in the shower.”

“Such little walls between our room huh. What else have you overheard me doing?”

“Come on, sing something, a little.” You encourage, taking his idle hands and pulling Seokmin up to the middle of the dimly lit kitchen.

You tried to hide your shy smile as you sway the intertwined hands slightly. Seokmin follows, the same smile mirrored on his face. What follows is the soft hums you had secretly kept as one of your favourites.

Against all odds, the two of you ended up slow dancing in all kinds of silly tunes Seokmin has manage to hum and sing along. Every exaggerated dips and turns with his every moves brought more laughs you had ever done ever since you arrived at the residence. The same smile etched on Seokmin’s face. For tonight, the two of you can smile in each other’s embrace.

prev chapter || next chapter

[riseokau]

CINEMATIC LOVE

Theme: bestfriends to lovers

Pairing: Lee Seokmin x fem reader (yuna)

w/c: 5k

Warnings: kissing, a little of angst

story: A quiet rooftop movie night, a soft drizzle under the stars, and two best friends who have spent years dancing around their feelings for each other. As the world fades away, they find themselves facing the unspoken truth they've both been waiting for. In a moment that's neither dramatic nor flashy, they discover that sometimes the most perfect love story is the one that's simply theirs.

a/n: got this idea while listening to cinematic love by dokyeom. Also this is my very first one shot if there's anything that you think I should change plz so tell me and I'd love to know your thoughts!

Seokmin's POV

"You need a main character moment."

It was something I'd been rehearsing since the morning.

Not because it was profound or anything — I mean, come on, it sounded like a line from a coming-of-age film with a slightly-too-quirky male lead. But it was the kind of thing Yuna would smile at. Not roll her eyes — well, maybe she'd do both — but the kind of smile that tugged at the side of her mouth before she realized she was giving it away. That was always the goal.

The sun was still hanging high when I left my apartment. Hot pavement radiated up through my sneakers, and the air had that sticky warmth that made every fabric cling to your skin. Typical summer in the city — loud, sweaty, alive. Kids laughing in the distance, a dog barking from a balcony somewhere overhead. The kind of day that was made for ice cream and spontaneous plans.

And yet, I knew where she'd be — probably holed up in her apartment with the curtains drawn and her laptop screen glowing judgmentally at her.

She hadn't said as much, but I could tell. The texts had gotten shorter. The calls came less often, and when they did, there was a weariness in her voice. Like even talking was one more thing she didn't quite have the energy for.

I climbed the steps to her building two at a time, heart pounding slightly from the heat more than the effort. Still, I paused outside her door.

Three knocks. Sharp, but not rushed.

There was a moment of silence. I could hear soft music playing inside — something instrumental and moody. Typical Yuna soundtrack when she was deep in her own head.

Then the door creaked open.

And there she was.

Hair tied up in a lazy bun, loose t-shirt hanging off one shoulder, her glasses slightly askew. She blinked at me like she'd just come out of a nap, or maybe a fog.

"Hey," she said, voice low and scratchy in a way that somehow made my chest ache.

I held up the two paper tickets like they were winning lottery numbers.

"Movie night," I said. "Rooftop screening. 7:30. You, me, and a critically-acclaimed love story with subtitles."

She squinted at the tickets like they were written in another language.

"It's Wednesday."

"Exactly."

"That's not a reason."

"It is if you're free."

"I'm not."

I tilted my head. "Really? What pressing plans do you have? Intense scrolling? Judging yourself for not writing? Alphabetizing your sticky notes?"

Her mouth twitched, and for a second, I saw it — the ghost of a smile. She sighed and leaned her shoulder against the doorframe.

"I'm just... stuck, Seokmin," she murmured. "The words aren't coming. I feel like I'm floating in place."

"Which is why," I said, stepping closer, "you need a main character moment."

There it was. I said the line.

She blinked.

Then laughed, soft and incredulous, like she didn't mean to. "Did you rehearse that?"

"Maybe."

Her smile cracked through fully now, and I swear, it lit up the entire hallway.

"I've got snacks," I added. "Your favorite — the caramel popcorn that gets stuck in your teeth and makes you hate yourself a little bit."

"You're really playing all your cards."

"And I brought a blanket. Just in case you try to use 'city breeze' as a dramatic excuse to cancel."

She studied me, eyes narrowing slightly — not in suspicion, but like she was trying to see through me. She always had that look. Like she was reading a line I hadn't said yet.

"Is this a pity invite?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"No," I said. Too quickly. "I just... I thought of you. That's all."

She didn't say anything. Not at first. Just looked down at the tickets, then back up at me. Her expression softened, like she was letting go of something heavy she didn't realize she'd been carrying all day.

"Okay," she said quietly. "Just let me change."

I exhaled — probably too visibly — and she smirked as she turned and disappeared into the apartment.

While I waited outside, I glanced down at the tickets again. The film was one I hadn't even heard of until that morning — some artsy, atmospheric indie flick with a too-long title. But it had an open rooftop venue, fairy lights, skyline views, and a soundtrack that screamed nostalgia. That was all I needed.

Well, that — and her.

She came out ten minutes later, wearing a light denim jacket over a sundress, her hair now loosely curled and a tiny bit frizzy from the humidity. She looked casual, effortless — the kind of beauty that sneaks up on you if you aren't paying attention. Not that I ever stopped.

"All set?" she asked.

I held out my arm with an exaggerated flourish. "Lead the way, main character."

She rolled her eyes, but I saw the grin she tried to hide.

And as we stepped into the fading sunlight, the sky a soft peach behind the buildings, I couldn't help but wonder:

Maybe this was the moment the story began to change.

.

The rooftop is peaceful now. The movie has started, but the world around us feels suspended, as if everything has slowed down, just for a moment. The screen flickers with soft light, casting a glow that dances over the crowd, bathing the people in a warm, golden hue. The air is heavy with the warmth of summer, but there's also a cool breeze that slips between the cracks, brushing against the skin like a whisper. It smells faintly of grilled meat from the food trucks down below, the kind of smell that makes your stomach growl without warning.

I can hear the soft hum of the city beneath us — the distant rumble of traffic, the muffled chatter from nearby conversations, the far-off clinking of bottles and glasses from a bar that's open late. But up here, on this rooftop, it's quieter. A space carved out from the noise. There's an unspoken intimacy in the air — the kind you don't notice until it's already there.

And then there's her.

Yuna. Sitting beside me. Just being.

The space between us is narrow, but it feels wide in the most unsettling way. We've been friends for so long that this proximity, this closeness, should feel easy — normal, even. But tonight it doesn't.

Tonight, everything feels sharper. More vivid.

I can feel the heat of her shoulder brushing against mine. It's not an uncomfortable heat, not at all. It's the kind of warmth that feels natural, like we've always been this close, like the space between us has always existed. It's the sort of warmth that lingers on the skin long after the touch has gone, like a mark that can't quite fade. And it doesn't make me uncomfortable — no. It makes my heart beat just a little faster. Makes the air feel thick and full of possibilities.

Our legs are stretched out in front of us, and I feel the lightest touch of her leg against mine. A brief, accidental brush — but hell, it's enough to send a shock through me. It's not the first time this has happened. We've sat this close a hundred times, in our cozy spots in the apartment, on the couch with our legs tangled under blankets, eating takeout and laughing at old sitcom reruns. The usual. But tonight? Tonight feels different.

I'm aware of every little detail now. The way her knee hovers just above mine, the way the fabric of her dress brushes against my skin in the gentle breeze. It's so small, so subtle, but I feel it like it's electric, like my whole body is hyper-aware of her in a way it's never been before.

I reach for the popcorn in the middle, mostly out of habit, to break the silence that's settled around us. She looks at me for a second, her eyes flicking over the motion of my hand as I stretch toward the bag, and she reaches for it too. Her fingers brush against mine as she takes a handful, and it's like the world narrows for a brief moment, the touch reverberating through me in ways I'm not quite ready for.

"Thanks," she murmurs, her voice low, soft, and I nod, swallowing down the sudden dryness in my throat.

She's not looking at me now. Her attention is on the screen, her eyes fixed on the characters as they wade through their messy, complicated love. The plot isn't anything new — two people falling in and out of love, a lot of misunderstanding, a lot of heartache, the typical trope. But I'm not really watching the movie anymore.

I'm watching her.

The way the soft glow of the screen catches her face. It highlights the curve of her jaw, the delicate arch of her cheekbones. The shadows across her features make her look... different, like she's someone else, someone new, even though I've known her for years. I watch the way the light bounces off her skin, making it glow in a way that's almost otherworldly. Everything about her feels softer in this moment, more real than anything I've ever seen in a film.

I notice her lips — how they part ever so slightly when she smiles at a line from the movie. It's a small, almost invisible shift, just a curl of the corners of her mouth, but it's enough to stop me in my tracks. I've seen that smile a thousand times, but tonight it feels like the first time.

Her eyes flicker toward me, and I realize I've been staring for too long. I look away quickly, clearing my throat, trying to focus back on the movie, but I can't shake the feeling that something has shifted. Something between us.

I laugh at the next line from the movie — something witty, something meant to be funny, but I'm aware of how shallow it sounds in the silence that hangs between us. Yuna doesn't even notice my laugh, or maybe she does, but she doesn't acknowledge it.

I catch her glance, though. Her eyes flicker to my face, briefly landing on my lips as they curve in amusement. And for a second, I wonder if she notices how close we are now — how our breaths are almost in sync, how my hand is barely an inch from hers. I wonder if she feels it too — that something in the air, that almost-connection that we've been dancing around for so long.

I can't help it. I want to ask her. I want to know if she's thinking the same thing I am.

But before I can say anything, the movie shifts into one of those cliché scenes — the one where the couple, under the stars, shares a vulnerable confession of love.

It's supposed to be one of those grand, sweeping moments in the story, the kind you see in every romance. But tonight, it feels different. Tonight, it hits. The words the characters exchange feel too real, too close to what I've been thinking for weeks, for months.

I glance at Yuna. She leans back, her arms stretched behind her, resting on the blanket. Her eyes are trained on the screen, but I see the soft furrow in her brow, the way her lips tighten as she watches the couple on the screen.

"Things like that only happen in movies," she murmurs under her breath, half-joking, but I can hear the sadness, the weight that lingers beneath her words. The longing, too — the part of her that still believes love, the real kind, only exists in fiction.

I feel it. The ache behind her voice. And I hate it.

It's as if she's resigned herself to the idea that this — the kind of connection we've had for years, the kind that feels effortless, natural, like it could be something — could never be more than something that only happens in the movies.

I freeze. The words I've been holding back rise up in my chest, and before I can stop myself, they slip out.

"Do they have to?" I whisper, and it feels like I've shattered something in the space between us. I don't even realize how heavy the question is until I see her reaction.

She freezes too. For the briefest of moments, her hand hovers in the air, the popcorn suspended just above her lap, like she's forgotten how to move. Her eyes snap to mine, and there's a flicker of surprise — no, more than surprise. Shock.

It's so quick, but it's there — in the way she freezes, in the way her breath hitches.

I hold her gaze, not looking away. I don't want to. I can feel my heart thudding in my chest, each beat growing louder, faster, as the seconds stretch between us.

Her lips part, but she doesn't speak at first. It's like she's collecting herself, like the weight of the moment is too much to say something casual, too much to just laugh it off like she's always done.

"I—" She begins, but the word hangs there, unfinished. Like she doesn't know how to continue. It's not uncertainty, though. It's more like... too many things have built up, too many unspoken words between us, too many years of waiting, of pretending that we were just friends.

Her eyes flicker away from mine, back to the screen, but the look in them doesn't fade. If anything, it deepens. It's sharper now, like she's searching for something — or maybe she's trying to hide something from me. But I don't think she can. Not anymore.

I don't know what to do. I don't know how to close the distance between us — not physically, but emotionally. It's too much to carry, this feeling that's swelling inside of me, this thing between us that neither of us has acknowledged out loud. It's always been there, buried beneath our jokes and shared moments, but tonight, it feels like it's on the edge of spilling over.

I wish I could wrap my arm around her. Pull her close, make it easier. But it feels too soon. Too soon, and yet, I'm not sure how much longer I can wait.

For a long moment, we sit there, side by side. The city hums below, the movie flickers, and time feels like it's both moving and standing still. We don't speak. We don't need to.

But something has changed. I can feel it. The tension in the air is almost tangible now, and it's not going anywhere.

And when her voice finally breaks the silence again, it's softer this time, almost like she's saying it to herself. "I guess... things don't have

.

The air feels cool now, the kind of cool that always settles in after the heat of the day has faded away. It's the kind of chill that brushes your skin like a soft caress, inviting you to savor the quiet moments before the night truly takes hold. The breeze carries the scent of something distant, like the faint smell of grilled meat wafting from one of the late-night food trucks nearby, but it's so soft that it's almost imperceptible. There's something comforting about the city at this hour — the streets are still lit but far fewer people are out, and it's as if the whole city is slowing down, taking a collective breath before the rush of the next day.

We walk side by side, our footsteps in sync, but tonight it feels like we're walking through a dream — slow, deliberate, but with a sense of unease, like something's on the edge of being realized. My thoughts are tangled, restless. I can feel the weight of them in my chest. I glance over at Yuna, and the way the lamplight spills over her hair, casting it in a soft, golden glow, makes my heart skip a beat. It's funny how something as ordinary as the light can make her seem so... ethereal. The waves of her hair catch the light in this way that makes her look almost untouchable. Her expression is peaceful, but there's something deeper, something I can't quite read. It's like she's somewhere between here and another place, lost in thoughts she hasn't shared yet.

We've walked down these same streets before. Countless times, in fact. But tonight, every step feels like we're on unfamiliar ground, even though the path is so well-worn. The rhythm of our shoes hitting the pavement feels different — heavier, as if the weight of our words, unspoken, is beginning to pull on us.

And the silence. It's not the kind of silence that's awkward or uncomfortable — not anymore. It's the kind of silence that carries meaning. It's the silence of things that have always been there, sitting beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to rise. And maybe tonight, the right moment is finally here. But it's not easy. Not for me, at least.

"Yuna," I say, my voice coming out rougher than usual. It's not just the cool air that makes my breath feel thicker — it's everything. All of the things I've never said, the things I've kept locked away because I've been too scared to speak them out loud. But they're spilling out now, whether I'm ready or not.

She turns her head toward me, her eyes soft, as if she's already sensing that something's about to change. Her gaze is expectant, but it doesn't pressure me. It's the way she always is with me — patient, understanding, like she knows I need time to find the right words, even if it takes longer than I want it to.

"I've never said this," I continue, my throat tight with the weight of what I'm about to reveal. "But there's... there's so much I haven't told you."

She raises an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity crossing her face, but she doesn't interrupt. Instead, she stops walking, just enough to make me slow down too. Her eyes stay on mine, steady and calm, like she's waiting for me to let the words come as they need to.

I try to breathe in the cool night air, steady myself. "I've written you birthday cards," I say, and even as I say it, I realize it's been something I've thought about for years. "Do you remember those birthday cards I always get for you? The ones that always seem to fall short of what I really want to say?"

She nods, the soft smile she's wearing doesn't quite reach her eyes, though I can see the tenderness in the way she's listening to me. I can feel her presence so keenly, like I'm standing at the edge of something, and I'm afraid to take the leap.

"I've written them — God, I've written them at least ten times," I continue, the words coming faster now, almost like a confession. "Ten different versions of what I wanted to say to you. But each time I stopped. I couldn't finish them. It never felt like the right thing, the right words. It was as if no matter how hard I tried, nothing could ever fully capture what I felt."

I chuckle softly, but it's not a happy sound. It's a bitter one, filled with the weight of all the things I never allowed myself to say. "Maybe that's why I kept hoping you'd open the door and just know. I kept hoping that somehow, you'd sense it. That what I felt would be enough, even though I never said it."

I pause, swallowing, trying to fight the lump in my throat. My chest feels tight as if I've been holding my breath for years, waiting for this one moment, for her to hear me.

"But it never was," I add quietly, the regret slipping out before I can hide it. "It was never enough."

I look at her, waiting for some sort of response, but she's silent. She doesn't speak. She just looks at me with those deep, dark eyes, studying me in a way that makes me feel like she's peeling back every layer of my thoughts. It's like she can see straight through me. I feel so exposed, so vulnerable, but for some reason, I can't look away.

The stillness between us feels heavy now. The city around us continues its quiet hum, but it's as though we've stepped out of it. All of it — the noise, the world, the distractions — fades, and there's just us. And in that silence, I wonder if she can hear my heart beating in my chest, wild and erratic, unsure.

"Seokmin..." Her voice breaks through the tension, soft and tentative. She says my name like it's a question, like she's unsure of how to respond, or maybe she's unsure of me.

I stop walking, and she does the same. We're standing under a streetlamp now, and the glow from it makes her look even more surreal. Like something out of a dream. The light catches the edges of her face, accentuating the delicate features, the sharpness in her eyes, the way her mouth trembles just a little when she speaks.

I take a step closer to her, but not too close. I want to respect the space between us, but it feels like I can't stand the distance any longer. The air around us is electric now, thick with everything we haven't said.

"I always thought love had to be loud," she says, her voice quiet, barely a whisper against the city's distant murmur. But I hear every word. "I thought it had to be dramatic. A big confession. Fireworks. All of that." She gestures with her hands, almost as if she's brushing away the idea of it. The image of love she's held for so long.

I feel a pang in my chest. I understand. I've always understood. I don't want that either. I want something real. Something subtle. Something that doesn't require grand gestures, just presence. But the words are stuck in my throat, heavy, pressing down.

"Yeah," I say, barely above a murmur, "I thought that too." My words are too simple. But it's the only thing I can offer right now.

She doesn't say anything right away. Instead, her gaze softens, and her breath hitches as she meets my eyes again. There's something different in her expression now — it's not the casual detachment I've often seen from her, but something else. Something that feels more like awareness. Like we've crossed a line we can't uncross.

"But you..." she says, her voice lowering, the words like a quiet confession. She steps forward, ever so slightly, and the shift in her presence makes my breath catch in my throat. "You've been the quietest, clearest thing in my life. You're the one who's always been there, even when I didn't want to see it. The one who showed up, who understood." Her words spill out, tentative but sure, like she's finally letting go of something she's been holding for a long time. "And I think that's what I was waiting for. For someone like you."

The world shifts around me, and I feel like everything has finally clicked into place. A weight lifts from my chest, and a warmth settles in its place. My pulse quickens, and for a moment, I'm at a loss for words. How do I tell her that I've been waiting for the same thing? That I've always known there was something about her that called to me, something that didn't need to be loud or grand — it just needed to be real?

But I can't say it. Not yet. Not like this.

"I..." I start, but the words stick. I want to say it, want to say everything I've been feeling, but it's too much, too soon. So instead, I take a step closer, closing the space between us. Her eyes are still locked on mine, like she's searching for something in me — for the truth, maybe. Or for something I haven't found the courage to say.

And in that moment, I know. I know she's waiting for me to make the first move, but I can't rush it. I can't force it. So I just take a deep breath and say, quietly, "I don't want loud, dramatic love either."

She doesn't pull away. She doesn't laugh it off or look at me with uncertainty. She just watches me, the silence thick between us, until I finally reach out and brush my hand against hers. This time, she doesn't hesitate. Her fingers curl into mine, the warmth of her hand slipping into mine like it was always meant to be.

The city hums around us, but in this moment, I don't need the noise. All I need is this quiet connection, the unspoken understanding between us. And maybe that's enough. Maybe that's all we need.

.

The first drop of rain hits the back of my neck, sharp and cold, a sudden contrast against the warmth of the night air. Then another, and another, until the sky releases the weight it's been carrying. The drizzle starts as a gentle whisper, but it soon grows into a soft, persistent rain, falling over us like a secret, quietly shared between the two of us and the world. The rain isn't heavy or loud — it doesn't demand attention — instead, it settles around us like a delicate curtain, wrapping us in a cocoon of intimacy. There's something fragile about it, almost as if this moment, this connection, could be swept away at any second.

I barely notice the shift in the air, but the moment the first raindrops hit, I feel a shift inside myself. There's a certain comfort in it, as though nature itself is signaling that this, right here, is exactly where we're meant to be. Not a moment too soon or too late. Just this soft rainfall, like it's giving us permission to be here with each other, in this quiet, stolen space where time seems to slow.

Under the streetlamp, the rain catches in the light, sparkling in the golden glow. It doesn't feel like the city anymore. The world beyond the pool of light is lost to us, blurred into shadows. The mist from the rain floats in the air like a veil, softening everything, blurring the harsh edges of the world we're leaving behind. All that exists is the light, the rain, and us. The city's noise is just a hum, distant and faint. It's as if the world has quieted for us, given us this brief, perfect moment, where nothing else matters but the two of us standing here in the rain.

I look at her — really look at her this time, taking in every detail that's always been there but has never felt so real. Her hair, damp and darkened by the rain, clings to her face in wet strands, glistening as the light from the streetlamp catches the droplets. Some of them collect at the tips of her lashes, and when she blinks, I see the water shimmer against her dark eyes, making them deeper, almost bottomless. Her face, half in shadow, half in light, looks different in the rain. Softer, more delicate, more there. Like she's been revealed to me in a way I never understood, even though we've known each other for so long.

I've seen her laugh, seen her smile, seen her angry, but this — this is different. The quiet of the night seems to have drawn something out of her, something that isn't obvious, something that isn't spoken. There's a stillness in the way she's looking at me, a soft focus in her eyes that tells me she's no longer unsure. The hesitation, the distance, the things we've both kept hidden — they've melted away with the rain, dissolving into the soft night air.

She's standing close now, close enough that I can feel her breath, warm and steady, mixing with the cool air between us. The way her chest rises and falls, each movement so gentle, so calm, gives me a sense of peace that I didn't know I needed. Her body is warm against mine, but the warmth doesn't come from the heat of the night or the streetlamp. It's something else. A quiet kind of heat that lingers in the air between us, something so familiar that it feels as though we've always been here, standing like this, waiting for this moment.

And then, there's this unspoken shift — a pull, subtle but undeniable. Everything slows down, like the rain itself has decided to freeze time for us. I can't say who moves first — is it me? Is it her? Maybe it's both of us, slowly leaning in, drawn together by something far deeper than the simple proximity of our bodies. The distance that once felt too wide between us is suddenly gone, erased by the shared space we've carved out in this rain-soaked night. My heart is racing in my chest, a steady thrum, like it's trying to escape, like it knows that this is what it's been waiting for.

And before I can fully register what's happening, her lips are there — soft, tentative, brushing against mine in a way that makes everything feel fragile, like we're both unsure of whether this is real or not. The kiss isn't anything like the ones you see in the movies — no fireworks, no rushing adrenaline. It's quiet, hesitant, almost awkward, like we're both testing the waters, unsure of what we're about to do, but too drawn to each other to stop. Her lips are warm against mine, the moisture of the rain mixing with the warmth of her skin. I feel the faintest tremble from her, and I know it mirrors my own.

For a few seconds, it's unsure. Like we're both learning how to be here, how to be with each other in this new space. Her fingertips brush lightly against my arm, tentative, like she's unsure if she should hold me, touch me, or pull away. It's such a small, delicate thing, but it's exactly what this moment is — small, quiet, delicate, and yet somehow so profoundly right. The rain falls steadily around us, but it's not cold. In this moment, the rain feels like a gentle barrier, like a shield from the rest of the world. It's just us. The rain. And the soft, tentative pressure of her lips against mine.

And then, slowly, it deepens. Not in a rush, not in a frantic, overwhelming way, but in a quiet, deliberate progression. It's as if we both suddenly realize that this is the culmination of everything we've been waiting for, everything we've both held back from saying or doing. The awkwardness fades, and there's a warmth that blooms between us — the kind of warmth that isn't just physical, but something deep and honest. The rain becomes louder, its drops falling harder, but it doesn't matter. We're sheltered in this small moment, wrapped in the quiet rhythm of the world around us, yet we're entirely focused on each other.

I'm not sure how long the kiss lasts, but when we finally pull away, it's not with the rush of breathlessness that you'd expect after something so intimate. Instead, there's a quiet kind of peace that settles over us. My heart is still pounding, but now it's steady, a calm echo of the chaos that came before. I open my eyes slowly, the world around us still a hazy blur, like everything else has faded away. And when I meet her gaze, I see the same softness in her eyes, that same stillness, like she's trying to take in the gravity of what just happened — of what we just shared.

She doesn't say anything right away, and neither do I. There's no need. The silence between us isn't awkward; it's comforting. It's filled with the quiet understanding that we've both crossed some invisible line — that we've arrived at a place where words no longer need to be spoken. Our lips are still warm from the kiss, our bodies still close, but it feels like there's so much more unsaid between us. The rain continues to fall, steady and persistent, but in this moment, it feels like it's part of us, like it's part of the truth we're both realizing.

She reaches up, almost instinctively, her fingers brushing through the damp strands of my hair at my temple. It's a light touch, soft and careful, like she's trying to ground herself, as if to remind herself that this is real, that we're really here. Her hand lingers there, just for a moment, but it's enough. It's enough to make my heart do something strange, something that feels like both relief and anticipation.

And then, she smiles. It's not a big, bright smile — it's softer, a little shy, and yet it feels like everything. In that smile, I see it all. The uncertainty, the hesitation, the quiet hope that's been there all along. Her eyes soften, and I know then that she's here with me. She's with me, in this moment, fully, completely, and without hesitation.

The rain still falls around us, but it's no longer just rain. It's part of this. Part of the quiet acceptance between us. The world beyond the streetlamp's glow is a blur, distant and irrelevant. There's only this space, this small bubble where nothing else matters. Not the passing time, not the world, not the things left unsaid. Only the way her hand rests on mine now, the way her fingers fit so naturally against my own.

I step back a little, just enough to catch my breath, but I don't let go of her. I reach for her hand, and this time, she doesn't pull away. Her fingers slip into mine, and it feels so simple, so natural, like we've always been doing this, always been here. We don't need to speak. We don't need to rush. We just stand there, together, letting the rain fall around us, letting the world continue as it will, while we remain still, in this perfect, quiet space.

It's not flashy. It's not dramatic. But in this rain, in this moment, it feels perfect. It's familiar. It's home.

.

As we stand there, rain gently falling around us, the quiet of the moment wrapping itself around us like a soft blanket, I realize something. It didn't look like a movie scene. There were no grand gestures, no sweeping music or dramatic confessions. It wasn't flashy or perfect in the way love is often portrayed on screen. But as I look at her — really look at her — I know that's what makes it so much more meaningful. It looked like us. Two people who have always been there, in the quiet, the subtle, the real. And maybe that's even better.

I hope you liked the story if you have any thoughts i'd love to see them!

[kyeomic]

🥴

[kissbyoon]

⠀𖼥ৎ⠀“hoodie!” ₍ maknae line ₎

───── ABOUT svt intentionally leaving their hoodie at your place ( & ridiculously trying to defend themselves )

⋆ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smau, fluff, humour, est. rs ⋆ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: bf!svt x gn!reader ⋆ 𝒄𝒘: terms of endearment

A/N: [hyung line] can y'all believe. I ACTUALLY DID THE MAKNAE LINE LMFAO I DIDN'T PROCRASTINATE!!! enjoyy ς(>‿<.)

────୨ৎ────

KISSBYOON 2025. © all rights reserved. @maestro-net @kstrucknet

[seokmn]

EYES OFF OF YOU — CHAPTER THREE

SYNOPSIS :: Seokmin was desperate to find the perfect model to pair up with his friend for his upcoming project, and he found you.

MASTERLiST - PREViOUS - NEXT

🔔. tagging! :: @svtmaru, @wonkierideul, @noircheols, @mi9yuz, @u7140823, @paradiseoflosers, @tastyluvr, @starshuas, @sooviiee, @supi-wupi, @starsunoo

[vcrnons]

and the award for the smile of all time goes to...

[forseokgyu]

Chismecito con SEVENTEEN | Tus Favs En MTV

[jinmindeulle]

support | lee seokmin

“Ugh, I hate this color”

“Yeah, it’s definitely not the one”

You gave Seokmin a side smile, proud of his character development in the world of make-up. 

At first, you have had to drag him into the store to help you buy new products to review them for your YouTube channel, with him understanding no more than the difference between the eyeliner and eyeshadows. 

But as time went by and your channel became more and more successful, Seokmin started paying more attention every time you asked him to go with you, especially after he made some appearances in your videos and was now regarded as the beauty boyfriend. 

Your followers had started to ask for him more and more often, and he took pride in that.

“What’s my next schedule?” 

“It’s a secret” you wiggled your eyebrows, taking his hand in yours to swap a lipstick. “Do you like this one?” 

“It goes well with my skin” he nodded, looking at you when you chuckled “What?”

“You’re about to take over the channel at this point, babe” you squished his lips with your free hand and planted a kiss on them. “Mwah”

“I just don’t like disappointing your followers” he gave you a proud smile, and you knew he was already deep into this new sense of responsibility he had gained over being the beauty boyfriend. 

“They keep asking for you to do my make-up in a livestream” 

“Will you let me?” 

The hope in his eyes made you think twice about your initial decision, because you were scared. Although most of the people had loved him and his bubbly personality, of course there were hate comments. You always got them, and you knew they were never going to go away — but as long as you were their target, you were fine.

With Seokmin, however, you had a problem. He was your treasure, and you had promised yourself to keep him safe, away from the haters. He was the only piece of your life that you needed to protect. 

“I don’t know, babe” you sighed, placing a couple of eyeshadow palettes into the basket he was carrying. 

“I promise I won’t read the comments if you don’t want me to” he reassured you, interlacing your hand in his as you moved to the payment line.

“It’s not only that” you pouted, hugging him with your free arm and leaving a kiss on his clothed chest “People are mean and you didn’t ask for this exposure. I can deal with it because I made the decision to pursue this”

“And I made the decision to support you and your dreams. So if that’s what it takes, I don’t care. I love doing this with you, love. We’ve connected in so many new ways.”

Your eyes filled with tears as he spoke, soft and sweet. He kissed your head and pressed his cheek on the same spot, embracing you to reassure his words.

“I love you” was all you could say. But Seokmin knew those words meant more than that. 

“And I, you”

¸.·✩·.¸¸.·¯⍣✩ seventeen masterlist ✩⍣¯·.¸¸.·✩·.¸

[synity]

Don’t Tell My Brother (Oh Wait… He Knows)

The stage lights dimmed as the final note of SEVENTEEN's concert echoed through the venue. The crowd roared, lightsticks swaying like stars in a sea of midnight blue. You stood off to the side of the stage, breathless and glowing from the adrenaline of dancing through a flawless performance.

Your eyes instinctively found him.

DK your sunshine, your secret, your boyfriend of one year. He grinned from the main stage, sweat-slick hair sticking to his forehead, eyes scanning until he found you, too. He gave you a discreet thumbs-up and mouthed, "You did amazing."

You smiled back, biting your lip to hide it. You weren’t supposed to make it obvious. No one knew about your relationship.

Well… almost no one.

The members knew, of course. Hoshi caught on first—he’d walked in on you two sharing earbuds in the practice room. Mingyu had noticed how DK always saved you a seat at lunch. Joshua just smiled one day and said, “You look happier lately,” with that knowing twinkle in his eyes.

They all promised to keep it quiet.

Except for one person.

S.Coups. Your older brother. Leader of SEVENTEEN. Overprotective, dramatic, slightly terrifying when it comes to you, S.Coups.

He didn’t know.

Not yet.

But all that changed the night of the anniversary surprise.

After the concert, you snuck back into the studio while everyone was unwinding. DK had set up a tiny surprise a soft little cake from your favorite café, fairy lights strung lazily across the mirrors, and a small plushie holding a note that said, "Happy 1 Year, my star."

You turned around to see him standing there with that shy smile you loved. “You like it?” he asked, walking up with his hands behind his back.

“Are you kidding?” you laughed, heart swelling. “It’s perfect.”

“Good.” He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Because I—”

“what the hell!”

You both froze like statues.

Your head turned very slowly toward the doorway, where S.Coups stood, mouth open, one eyebrow twitching, and a water bottle dropping from his hand.

“No… way…” he muttered, pointing between you two. “You...you dating my sister!?"

“S-Seungcheol-hyung—!” DK jumped back like he touched fire. “I was gonna tell you no wait we were gonna tell you, I swear, I didn't mean to hide it, I mean I did, but—”

You stepped in, holding your brother’s arm. “Cheol, calm down—”

“Calm down?” he shrieked. “I’m not mad that you’re dating someone. I’m mad that it’s him!”

DK flinched. “Hey!”

“No offense,” Seungcheol barked, “but if anyone’s gonna date my sister, they better be ready to treat her like the queen of the freakin' universe. Do you know how precious she is? I used to carry her on my back to school, and now you’re holding her hand behind my back?”

“Hyung, I love her,” DK said, voice softer, but firm. “I’ve loved her since the first time we danced together. I waited a year just to ask her out. I never wanted to disrespect you or her. I’ve been planning to tell you.”

Seungcheol crossed his arms. “...And how exactly have you been treating her, huh?”

You nudged DK, giving him a look.

He cleared his throat. “I carry her bag after practice. I give her back massages when she’s sore. I bought her heated socks last winter so her feet wouldn’t get cold during rehearsals. I keep snacks in my locker just in case she forgets to eat. I learned how to braid hair for her.”

There was a pause.

“...Tch,” S.Coups muttered. “Not bad.”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

He sighed dramatically, then turned to you. “Look. If he ever makes you cry, I will dropkick him on live broadcast. But until then...” He looked back at DK with narrowed eyes. “You better keep spoiling her. With everything. Food, gifts, love, all of it. She deserves it. And don’t think for a second I won’t one-up you just to remind her I’m still the better man.”

DK blinked. “You want to spoil your sister more than her boyfriend?”

“You bet your mic stand I do.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, heart full, cheeks hurting from smiling.

The next morning, the whole group was gathered in the dorm kitchen. Jeonghan smirked, leaning into S.Coups. “So, hyung, did you cry when you found out?”

“I didn’t cry,” Seungcheol grumbled.

“You kind of did,” Minghao added casually. “You said, ‘My baby’s growing up.’”

DK walked in with you, carrying your favorite smoothie and a breakfast sandwich. “Good morning~” he sang. “For you, my queen.”

Seungcheol threw a pillow at his head. “Don’t call her that in front of me!”

You giggled, sitting beside your boyfriend, who winked at you when no one was looking.

Secret? Not anymore.

But it didn’t matter.

You were loved. Truly, sweetly, and loudly.

And you wouldn’t trade it for anything

[Jeju Island – Two Days Later]

The sky was painted in soft watercolor pinks and oranges as SEVENTEEN's van pulled up to the beachside house in Jeju. You stretched your arms out as you stepped out, salty breeze ruffling your hoodie. Everyone was excited for this mini getaway a break from hectic schedules, a chance to breathe.

You didn’t even have time to take two steps before a pair of arms wrapped around your shoulders from behind.

“Finally,” DK whispered into your ear. “I can hold you without checking over my shoulder for S.Coups.”

“I heard that,” came a voice from the front.

You both jumped apart

Seungcheol narrowed his eyes. “You wanna sleep in the sea tonight?”

DK raised both hands. “chill, hyung! Just admiring the weather!”

Mingyu walked by snorting. “The ‘weather’ now has long eyelashes and lip gloss.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, cheeks warm

Inside, the house was warm and cozy two floors, ocean view, and a huge balcony. DK immediately claimed the room closest to yours. “So if you get scared at night,” he whispered, winking, “you can knock three times.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that really your excuse for wanting to be next door?”

“...Maybe.”

Meanwhile, S.Coups was watching from the kitchen, arms crossed, whispering to Woozi.

“She used to have pigtails and beg me for watermelon slices. Now she’s making heart-eyes at that smiley sunshine boy.”

Woozi patted his shoulder. “Let it go, bro. At least she didn’t fall for Vernon.”

That night, after grilled meat and card games, you and DK snuck out to the balcony with mugs of hot cocoa.

He wrapped a blanket around both of you and pulled you closer. “y/nie-ah,” he said gently, “thank you for loving me… even in secret.”

You looked up at him. “I would’ve kept loving you even if it had to stay a secret forever.”

He smiled softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Still, I’m glad it’s not. I’m glad I can do this now” he cupped your face and kissed you, slow and sweet.

“Hey! Balcony curfew is 10 PM!” S.Coups shouted through the sliding door.

You both broke apart with a yelp.

Jun walked past behind him, laughing. “Hyung’s watching you like Netflix.”

Hoshi grinned. “Y/N, blink twice if you want us to distract your brother.”

“Don’t encourage them!” Seungcheol shouted.

[archivegyu]

I Know It Won't Work

The first time Wonwoo noticed her was in the small local library tucked away on a quiet corner. She sat at a wooden table near the window, surrounded by stacks of novels, her fingers delicately turning pages of a well-worn poetry anthology. The soft afternoon light filtered through the antique windows, casting a golden glow on her concentrated face. He had been searching for inspiration during a rare break from his hectic schedule when their eyes met briefly across the intimate space. Something about the way she smiled made his heart flutter unexpectedly. Wonwoo, typically reserved and composed, found himself approaching her table with uncharacteristic boldness.

"Is this seat taken?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. When she gestured for him to sit, he noted how her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners when she smiled. They read in comfortable silence for hours, occasionally stealing glances at each other over their books. Before leaving, they exchanged numbers, and Wonwoo felt an unfamiliar lightness in his chest as he walked home that evening.

Their first official date happened at a small bookstore café. Wonwoo arrived early, nervously adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses while waiting. He had chosen this place specifically, Seungkwan had teased him relentlessly about being so methodical even in matters of the heart. But when she arrived, her face lighting up at the sight of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, Wonwoo knew he had made the right choice. They spent hours discussing their favorite authors, discovering shared literary loves, and debating plot points of classics. Wonwoo found himself opening up in ways he rarely did, even with his closest friends. Her insights were thoughtful, her laughter genuine, and the way she listened to him made Wonwoo feel truly seen.

"You're different from what I expected," she told him as they walked home under a canopy of stars, their hands brushing against each other tentatively.

"What did you expect?" Wonwoo asked, curious about how others perceived him.

"Everyone talks about how serious you are, how you keep to yourself. But there's so much more beneath the surface." She smiled up at him, and in that moment, Wonwoo felt something shift inside him. A wall carefully constructed over years beginning to crumble.

Time seemed to accelerate after that night. Days melted into weeks, and Wonwoo found himself integrating her into his meticulously organized life. The members of Seventeen welcomed her warmly. Mingyu especially took to her immediately, challenging her to cooking competitions that always ended in laughter-filled disasters. Vernon engaged her in deep philosophical conversations that sometimes lasted until dawn. Wonwoo watched with quiet pride as she seamlessly became part of his world, bringing color to corners he hadn't realized were gray.

On rainy Sundays, they developed a ritual of their own. At Wonwoo and Mingyu’s apartment, curling up on the living room couch, reading aloud to each other from dog-eared books, her head resting comfortably on his lap. These were the moments Wonwoo treasured most: the comfortable silence between them, the way she absentmindedly played with his fingers while deep in thought, the soft kisses they exchanged between chapters. For someone who had always found solace in solitude, Wonwoo was surprised by how much he craved her presence.

"I never thought I could feel this way about someone," he confessed one night as they lay watching the city lights through the apartment window. The words felt foreign on his tongue. Wonwoo had never been one for grand declarations, but they were honest. She intertwined her fingers with his, understanding the weight behind his words.

"Neither did I," she whispered back, her voice trembling slightly with emotion. "You make me feel like I'm home."

The first sign of trouble came six months into their relationship. Their new album was gaining unexpected traction, and suddenly Wonwoo's schedule became impossibly packed. Late-night recordings, early morning practice sessions, and endless meetings began to consume his days. What started as a temporary busy period stretched into weeks of minimal contact.

She had planned a special dinner at a restaurant he had mentioned wanting to try months ago. Wonwoo stared at his phone during a brief break between dance practices, his heart sinking as he realized he would have to cancel. Again.

"I'm so sorry," he said when she answered his call, the disappointment in her voice unmistakable despite her attempts to hide it. "The choreography for the new single isn't coming together, and Soonyoung wants to run through it one more time."

"It's okay," she replied softly. "I understand. Your work is important."

"I'll make it up to you," Wonwoo promised, meaning every word. "Next week, once this deadline passes."

But next week brought more of the same. Their second planned date. A gallery opening featuring an artist she had been following for years, also fell victim to Wonwoo's increasingly demanding schedule. This time, he couldn't even call. A hurried text sent between recordings was all he could manage.

“Can't make it tonight. Emergency meeting with producers. Rain check?”

He stared at his phone during a water break, waiting for her response. When it finally came hours later, it was brief and devoid of the warmth he had grown accustomed to.

“Sure. Good luck with the meeting”

Wonwoo felt a heaviness settle in his chest, knowing he had hurt her but feeling helpless to change the circumstances. The demands of his career were non-negotiable, the pressure to succeed overwhelming. The members noticed his distraction during practice the next day. Seungcheol pulled him aside, concerned about his uncharacteristic mistakes.

"Everything okay with you two?" he asked, his leader instincts detecting the underlying issue.

"Just busy," Wonwoo replied curtly, unwilling to admit that the foundation of their relationship was beginning to show cracks.

The first real fight came unexpectedly. Wonwoo had finally managed to clear his evening, planning to surprise her at home with takeout from her favorite restaurant. He entered her apartment using the key she had given him months ago, only to find her laughing on the phone, her voice animated in a way he hadn't heard directed at him in weeks.

"Who was that?" he asked after she hung up, trying to keep his tone casual but failing to hide the edge of suspicion.

"Just a colleague from the publishing house," she answered, her smile fading as she caught his expression. "We're working on the same manuscript."

"You seemed very friendly," Wonwoo commented, immediately regretting his words but unable to stop himself. Exhaustion and insecurity were making him irrational.

Her eyes narrowed. "What exactly are you implying, Wonwoo?"

"Nothing," he backtracked. "It's just. I barely hear from you these days, and then I come over to find you laughing and talking with someone else like that."

"Like what?" Her voice had gone dangerously quiet. "And what do you mean you barely hear from me? I've been the one waiting for calls that never come, for dates that keep getting canceled."

The argument escalated quickly, weeks of unspoken frustrations pouring out from both sides. Wonwoo accused her of not understanding the pressures he was under; she countered that she was always the one expected to be understanding, to be flexible, to wait.

"Do you know how many nights I've stayed up waiting for even a text from you?" she asked, tears threatening to spill. "And now you have the audacity to be jealous because I was having a work conversation?"

Wonwoo ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself, with the situation, with the impossible balance he was failing to maintain. "I'm sorry," he finally said, defeated. "I'm just so tired."

The fight ended with a fragile truce, but something had shifted between them. The easy comfort they once shared now felt strained, conversations more cautious, silences less comfortable.

Three weeks later, she received devastating news about her grandmother's health. Wonwoo was in the middle of a two-day shoot in a remote location with minimal cell service when she tried repeatedly to reach him. By the time he saw her messages and called back, nearly twenty hours had passed.

"Where were you?" Her voice was hollow, drained of emotion. "I needed you."

Wonwoo closed his eyes, leaning against the wall of his hotel room. "The shoot location didn't have service. I came back to messages from everyone, my parents, the members, you. I called as soon as I could."

"She's in the hospital, Wonwoo. The doctors don't think she'll make it through the week." The crack in her voice broke his heart. "Everyone else showed up. Seungkwan brought food. Joshua drove me to the hospital. Even Jeonghan called to check in. But you… the one person I needed most, were unreachable."

"I'll come right now," Wonwoo said desperately. "I'll talk to the director, explain the situation."

"Don't bother," she replied, exhaustion evident in every word. "The critical period has passed. She's stabilized for now. You have your commitments."

The distance between them grew in the following weeks. Wonwoo tried desperately to bridge the gap, sending messages between recordings, calling during his brief breaks, but the conversations felt forced, superficial. The ease they once shared had evaporated, leaving behind awkward pauses and unsaid thoughts.

Then came her birthday. Wonwoo had marked it in his calendar months in advance, determined to make it special despite their recent troubles. He had arranged for a rare day off, planned a surprise picnic at the botanical garden she loved, even enlisted Mingyu's help to prepare her favorite desserts. But as the date approached, a last-minute schedule change threw everything into chaos. An important international investor wanted to meet with the group, and the company made it clear attendance was non-negotiable.

Wonwoo realized his mistake at midnight, after a grueling fourteen-hour meeting followed by an impromptu dinner with the investors. He stood on the rooftop of the company building, staring at his phone in horror as the date registered in his mind. With shaking hands, he called her, knowing what his forgetfulness had likely cost him.

She didn't answer. Not then, not the next morning when he tried again, not after the dozens of apologetic messages he sent. When she finally responded three days later, it was with a brief text asking if they could talk in person.

Wonwoo knew what was coming even before he arrived at the park where they had shared so many happy memories. She sat on their usual bench, looking smaller somehow, more fragile. The autumn leaves fell around them, a melancholy backdrop to the end they both sensed was inevitable.

"I can't do this anymore," she said quietly, her eyes focused on the distance. "I'm so tired, Wonwoo."

He wanted to argue, to promise things would change, but the words felt hollow even to his own ears. His schedule wouldn't become less demanding; if anything, their international popularity meant more travel, more commitments, more time apart.

"I love you," he said instead, the words catching in his throat. "I've never loved anyone the way I love you."

She turned to him then, tears streaming down her face. "I know. And I love you too. That's what makes this so painful. Love shouldn't feel like waiting. Like being an afterthought. Like constantly being disappointed."

"You've never been an afterthought," Wonwoo insisted, reaching for her hand. "Never."

"Maybe not intentionally," she acknowledged, allowing him to hold her hand one last time. "But the result is the same. I'm always the one who has to understand, to be patient, to adjust. I'm always the one left alone."

They sat in silence for a long time after that, neither wanting to be the first to leave, to officially end what had been the most significant relationship of their lives. Finally, as the sun began to set, she stood.

"I hope you find everything you're looking for, Wonwoo," she said, her voice steady despite the tears. "I hope the music, the fame, all of it. I hope it's worth what you're sacrificing for it."

He watched her walk away, unable to move, unable to call after her. Because what could he say? That he would change? That things would be different? Wonwoo had always prided himself on his honesty, and he couldn't bring himself to make promises he knew circumstances wouldn't allow him to keep.

Three years passed. Seventeen's global popularity continued to soar, and Wonwoo threw himself into his work with renewed intensity. The members noticed the change in him. The increased seriousness, the way he avoided certain places, certain songs. They tried in their own ways to help him move forward. Vernon suggested meditation; Mingyu set him up on blind dates that inevitably ended awkwardly; Seungcheol reminded him that time healed all wounds. But Wonwoo carried the weight of what might have been like a shadow, always present even in his brightest moments.

He saw her face occasionally, on the cover of literary magazines, in newspaper articles about promising young editors. She had channeled her passion for books into a successful career, eventually publishing her own novel to critical acclaim. Wonwoo bought a copy the day it was released but couldn't bring himself to read it, afraid of finding echoes of their story within its pages.

It was Minghao who spotted the poster first. An announcement for a book signing at the Seoul Metropolitan Library. Her latest novel had just been released, and she would be meeting readers, signing copies. Wonwoo stared at the poster, at her smiling face that looked both familiar and like that of a stranger.

"We should go," Minghao suggested carefully, watching Wonwoo's reaction. "The others would want to support her too."

Wonwoo nodded slowly, surprising himself with his response. Perhaps after all this time, he could face her again, could show her that he was okay, that he had respected her decision even as it broke him.

The day of the signing arrived with unexpected speed. Wonwoo found himself standing at the back of the library's main hall, surrounded by Hansol, Minghao, and Joshua, who had insisted on accompanying him for moral support. The line of eager readers stretched nearly to the door, each clutching copies of her novel, excitement evident on their faces.

And there she was, seated at a table at the front of the room, more beautiful than he remembered. Her hair was shorter now, her smile more confident as she chatted animatedly with each reader who approached her table. Wonwoo watched from a distance, unable to move closer, afraid of disrupting the life she had clearly built without him.

"Are you going to talk to her?" Joshua asked quietly, noticing Wonwoo's hesitation.

"I don't know," Wonwoo admitted. "Maybe it's better to leave the past in the past."

But then, as if sensing his presence, she looked up from signing a book and her eyes met his across the crowded room. Time seemed to suspend for a moment. Three years of separate lives, of growth and change and healing, compressed into a single glance.

And then she smiled. Not the wide, uninhibited smile she had once reserved just for him, but a gentle acknowledgment, a peaceful recognition of what they had been to each other. Wonwoo felt his chest tighten with emotions he couldn't name.

Regret, acceptance, a bittersweet pride in seeing her thrive.

He didn't approach her table. Instead, he offered a small nod in return, his own slight smile conveying what words couldn't: that he was happy for her, that he understood now what he couldn't understand then, that some loves weren't meant to overcome certain obstacles but were valuable nonetheless.

As Wonwoo turned to leave with his friends, the weight in his chest grew unbearable. That smile, so polite, so distant.

It was nothing like the one that still haunted his dreams. She had moved on. Built a new life without him. Created successes he could only witness from afar.

Outside, in the crisp autumn air that reminded him so much of their last day together, Wonwoo struggled to maintain his composure. Three years had done nothing to diminish what he felt for her. If anything, time had only crystallized his feelings, sharpening the edges of his regret.

"You okay?" Hansol asked, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder, concern evident in his voice.

Wonwoo swallowed hard, unable to voice the lie. "I will be," he managed instead, the words hollow even to his own ears.

He knew with devastating certainty that no one would ever compare to her. His life had continued: albums released, concerts performed, rewards received. Yet the success felt empty without her to share it with. That brief moment when their eyes met had reopened every wound he'd pretended had healed.

As they walked away from the library, Wonwoo felt an overwhelming urge to turn back, to run to her, to beg for another chance he knew he didn't deserve. But he kept walking, the image of her with her books, her achievements, her new life without him burning into his memory.

Later that night, alone in his and Mingyu’s apartment, Wonwoo pulled out the copy of her novel he'd been too afraid to read. Opening to the dedication page, his breath caught in his throat at the words printed there: "For those who understand that sometimes timing is everything." His fingers traced over the letters, wondering if they were meant for him or someone new who had taken his place in her heart.

He knew he would never know. The knowledge that she was thriving without him brought both agonizing pain and a bittersweet pride. That was the cruelest part, loving her still meant wanting her happiness above his own, even if that happiness excluded him completely.

Her smile, the one she had offered him today...

Would haunt him alongside all the genuine ones she had once given freely. The finality of it crushed him anew, the realization that some loves, no matter how profound, simply weren't meant to overcome certain obstacles. And his career, the very thing he had sacrificed her for, now seemed a poor consolation for what he had lost.

[seoksoonwoo]

WONWOO, DOKYEOM & VERNON CARATLAND 2025