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sohnric · 8 months

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to. my first – k. sunwoo

pairing: kim sunwoo x fem! reader

genre: 90s au. twenty-five twenty-one au, friends to lovers au, exes to lovers au. fluff, slice of life, coming of age, suggestive. highschool au, football player! sunwoo, baker! sunwoo. cheerleader! reader. first love au. what we call wet cat sunwoo. meeting your ex after years and falling back in love with him kind of thing.

warnings: alcohol, throwing up, swearing, reader has hair long enough for a ponytail, a heated make out session or two that alludes to them having sex but no actual smut happens, finger sucking, the reader moping around a lot, no plot just vibes.

word count: 31k

a/n: inspired by me telling @/csenke that sunwoo is my first love. why am i so soft for this man i truly dont know... thank you best friend for betaing this monster i appreciate it a LOT! also thank you to sana @/heemingyu and izzy @/from-izzy for the help on some parts of the fic and brainstorming the ending w me, as well as beta reading small parts of this.

spin-off to my fic millennium bug because sunwoo deserves love too! the reader from eric's fic is referenced to as MB!Y/N in this. you don't have to read the first fic to understand this one, but there are a lot of references in this and i highly encourage you to do so!

they say you never forget about your first love. you guess that's true. (or– a story about reckless love, first kisses, growing up, ambition, and inevitably, failure.)

August 2007

The laughter all around is electric. The music playing in the background makes you sway and hum to the melody, the familiar tunes making your insides light up with a different sense of nostalgia when you remember the times in which these songs were popular. Your tired limbs make you cut your way through the room and sit down on a vacant chair, not really caring about where your designated seat was anymore, just needing to rest for a second before you either throw up from exhaustion or faint from how tired your legs are from all the dancing. Paying a quick goodbye to Juyeon on the dance floor, you heave out a satisfied sigh when your bottom meets the cushioned seat of the chair, eyes zeroing on the filled dance floor.

Feeling a cramp in your foot, you scowl and lean down, ready to do the thing you’ve been desiring for at least the last three hours– if not the whole day. Hands playing with the strap on your heel, you make the shoe come undone before you slip the uncomfortable footwear off your feet, relaxing when your naked limbs meet with the cold tile on the floor.

You don’t really know who in their right mind would have a wedding in the middle of the summer heat, but you guess there are people that are out of their mind like that– and those people are your friends from high school.

Everything about coming back to your hometown has made you feel unpleasantly nostalgic so far– the streets haven’t changed a bit, your childhood home still looks just the same, furniture unmoved, and the air is still as crisp, yet humid as it always was during late August. It’s only tonight that finally makes the weird bittersweetness turn into joy. You’re back home with everyone you’ve ever known, with everyone who’s made you into who you are today. You’re seeing all their faces for the first time in ages– and frankly, it does feel good.

The satisfaction in your veins stays for a bit until a figure dressed in a suit comes into your point of view. It’s not like you’re seeing him for the first time tonight– he’s a big character, even when it comes to this wedding, so it’s hard to not notice him– but as his legs take him towards you in a wobbly nature, it dawns on you that now is maybe finally the time you get to talk to him. Don’t get me wrong– there are no hard feelings between the two of you (or at least you don’t have any, you’re not so sure about his side of the story). It’s just that seeing him dressed in a tux, tie now a little loose around his neck, the twinkle in his eye still present as back when you were both a lot younger, there’s still a strong aftertaste of your feelings towards him somewhere on the tip of your tongue.

His walk is a little lopsided as he grins at you and takes a seat on the vacant chair next to yours, a huff of air escaping his lungs as his body relaxes, limbs falling freely down the sides of his chair. His cheeks are a little red and his hair a little messy– there’s only so much to explain his composure apart from all the dancing he’s done.

“So I see that you still can’t handle your liquor well even after all those years?” you joke, making the boy turn his head to face you, an amused twinkle appearing in his smile.

His eyes are still the same chocolate orbs you know, still the same soft look adorning them whenever he feels particularly ecstatic. He shrugs, jolting his bottom lip out before he sighs to himself. “Well, it’s not every day you are the best man at your best friend’s and your sister’s wedding,” he muses, shrugging.

Laughing at his remark, once again taking in the state of the room– Juyeon, Hyunjae and Haknyeon each dancing somewhere in the middle of the dance floor, MB!Y/N’s friends from university twirling her around in the right corner, Eric staring at the bride with a warm gaze in his eyes, sipping on a drink while resting against one of the tables, clearly taking a mental image to look at every time he feels the need to– it all feels kind of surreal. Who would’ve thought all those years ago that it would end like this?

Well, Eric Sohn, for starters. He confessed to everyone in his wedding speech that he knew he wanted to marry MB!Y/N the moment she kissed him on New Year’s Eve of 1999– him being this cheesy was only acceptable because it was his own wedding. In any other circumstance, Sunwoo wouldn’t be able to let his best friend live this down.

It’s not like you ever expected those two to break up– it just makes you a little in awe at how fast time is passing. “It’s kinda crazy, isn’t it?” you hum, squinting at the flood of people on the dance floor.

“It is,” Sunwoo hums, tonguing the inside of his cheek, “still can’t believe they’re dating. Hell, they’re getting married right now…”

“You can’t believe your sister is dating your best friend?” you laugh, wiping the sweat that’s accumulated off your forehead, the mist appearing there both because of your reckless dancing and because of the unbearable heat of the August night.

“That, and also the other way around,” he hisses, “but I guess they’re both so insufferable that they go well together, so I don’t know why I’m still so surprised.”

Chuckling at his comment– you guess the bond he has with his sister is never to be changed, no matter how many years have passed– you watch as he shrugs off his suit jacket and throws it over the back of his chair, starting to roll up his sleeves to expose his forearms. Eyes following his motions, you clear your throat and force yourself to look back into his eyes when he asks you a question. “What about you, though? Are you enjoying yourself?”

“I am,” you nod, no hesitation, “it’s really nice to see all of you after so long. Plus, I’m having a lot of fun, so that’s a nice bonus."

“I can see that,” he grins, “by the way you sat on my seat just now, and all–”

“Oh god– I’m sorry,” you gasp, suddenly feeling a little silly. And here you thought he went up to you because he wanted to catch up… “I’ll move, if–”

The sound of Sunwoo’s hearty laugh lands into your ear– it’s just the same as it was back when you were both high schoolers, making your heart soar– before he shakes his head and urges you to stay with a motion of his hand, putting his large palm on your thigh to keep you from moving. “No, no, don’t be stupid,” he says, “I don’t mind. I was looking for you anyway, so you just made it easier for me by sitting here, actually.”

He was looking for you, resonates in your head, the familiar buzzing in your fingertips alerting you of the effect he has on you even tonight. God, maybe you were the one that had too much to drink…

“You were?” you ask, tone of voice light– not at all suspicious.

Sunwoo nods, shrugging. “Well, I guess we have a lot of catching up to do,” he smiles, “don’t we?”

Eyes meeting his, the contact feels electrifying to the point it makes your head spin when you look at him, taking in his glossy eyes and the flush of his cheeks. They’re less round than when you two were young, but his eyes still stay the same– big, round and tender.

He reminds you a lot of the time when you saw him drunk for the first time.

to. my first time getting drunk

April 1999

Havoc rings in his ears like jingle bells, the world around him spinning like he’s on a rollercoaster. His head feels like someone is installing a nail to the middle of his skull and when he looks around, Lee Donghyuck is staring at him with a glass bottle of soju in his hand, urging him to drink more.

Sunwoo doesn’t have it in him to do much else other than shake his head. It feels like he forgot all his vocabulary, not a single word coming out of his mouth or to the awake parts of his brain, watery eyes begging his classmate to not make him drink any more.

What seemed like a good idea just a few moments ago– see, it’s prohibited to drink on school trips, but Kim Sunwoo is infamous for loving to break the rules– now seems like the worst idea of his whole entire life. He feels so sick he thinks he’s going to die of alcohol poisoning, but the laughter around keeps painfully reminding him that he hasn’t even had that much to drink in the first place. The amount of times he’s been called a lightweight this night is making his pride severely hurt, and even graciously intoxicated, he can’t bear the sting this is putting on his already hurt ego.

“Come on, birthday boy! I’m sure you can handle one more,” Donghyuck urges, uncurling Sunwoo’s fist and placing the bottle into his grasp, making the poor boy wince and battle back tears.

He knows he’s being embarrassing. The choice between not dying and not humiliating himself is rather a difficult one, but the moment he finally finishes the crossword puzzle in his brain and puts the glass opening against his lips, the bottle is thankfully taken out of his grasp and discarded somewhere where his eyes can’t reach.

“You’re done for the night, Kim Sunwoo,” you haul at him, shaking your head at the poor boy, “you’re done.”

Sunwoo wants to open his mouth and protest, maybe ask you what you mean, but the moment his lips unseal, he gets a sniff of the alcohol in the air and suddenly, he feels like throwing up. Your eyes lock with his, a pleading– maybe a warning– mirrors in Sunwoo’s gaze, and even though he’s so drunk he feels like he crossed dimensions, he applauds your ability to know just what he means by a single look into his eyes.

“Oh, Christ–” you curse, hurried steps moving to the corner of the room, swiftly grabbing the trash can and running back towards your friend sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor.

You make it just in time to catch the contains of Sunwoo’s stomach into the trash can, making the boy insanely grateful– he’s wearing the new shoes his mum got him for his birthday, and god knows he’d hate it if he ruined them the very first day he can show them off to his football friends.

The whole world disappears into the background as he throws up while making a mental promise to himself to never drink again. The only thing keeping him from losing it all is the feeling of your hand on his back, comforting rubs grounding him back to earth. Giggles fill his ears and he’s sure everyone’s laughing at him– even in his drunken state, he can recognise the shame filling his veins– but before he can open his mouth to argue with his classmates, the sound of your angry voice makes him seal his lips close and listen to the scolding you offer to his teammates for making him drink so much.

“You know he has a weak stomach, Donghyuck!” you huff and puff, your hand still drawing comforting circles to Sunwoo’s back as his head stays stuck in the bucket, not having enough energy to even straighten his spine.

“It’s his birthday! Come on, don’t be so tight-arsed.”

“Well, do you want him to die on his day of birth? That’s not very cool of you,” you growl, the shuffle of your clothing and a pained “ow” escaping his friend’s lips hinting to Sunwoo that you just kicked the right wing to his shin.

Deserved, Sunwoo thinks.

“Can somebody get Eric? I’m pretty sure he’s in Daehwi’s room with MB!Y/N, Minjeong and Jihoon,” you hum, waiting for anyone to follow your orders.

Sunwoo blinks in and out of it, his consciousness giving up on him with the incredible pain in his temples. He feels incredibly grateful to have someone like you by his side not only now, but all the time. The two of you have gotten incredibly closer ever since he joined the football team– and with you being one of the cheerleaders, you’re always somehow around. Not that he’s complaining, of course. It seems like you are one of the more responsible ones in this room right now, and god knows Sunwoo needs a bit of guidance on his day to day ventures.

“Do you think you’ll be sick again?” you ask, voice soft in his ear. “Or can I take the trash can off you now?”

Sunwoo thinks for a bit, then he nods and lets go of the plastic bucket. He doesn’t know what happens to it after and nor does he care– it seems like the alcohol in his veins took away all his sense of object permanence. He can barely see anything in the yellow lights of the room (which makes him believe he is going blind from all the alcohol he’s had– don’t tell him it’s just his eyes getting hazy and confused with how much his head is spinning), but he’s sure he can feel you wiping his tear-stained cheeks (he wasn’t crying– his eyes were just watering) and pulling him closer to you when he threatens to fall over even in his seated position. Your hand comes up to play with his hair when you let him rest his head against your shoulder, your actions making him sleepy, eyes closing on themselves like a threat for him to fall asleep any second.

Something about the care, the loyal protectiveness you take over the boy makes his heart soften. He breaths in your scent, trying his hardest to focus on your presence and not the weird feeling in his stomach– although it’s settled a bit since he threw up, it’s still a little uneasy– and before he knows it, there’s a tap on his shoulder waking him up from the haze.

Sunwoo mourns, not really wanting to move from his position, too comfortable with your fingers threading through his hair– but much to his dismay, your soft voice appears in his ear, telling him he has to get up. “Can you walk on your own? We’re gonna get you back to your room,” you hum, your lips accidentally brushing against the shell of his ear, making everything in him light on fire. He’s not really sure if this is the effect alcohol has on you, but if it is, he’s certain he never wants to drink again.

“Sunwoo?” you call, the way you say his name suddenly all too angelic in his ears– but still not enough for him to answer. “Alright,” you sigh after the dreadful silence, taking charge of the situation, moving away from the boy and offering him your hands to hold on to as you try to get him on his feet, “I guess we’re gonna find out.”

His fingers intertwine with yours as he stares up at you, his vision blurry, but still sharp enough to make out your tired face. The sight is enough to make Sunwoo worry– is he being too much? Are you mad at him? Do you not want to be his friend anymore? – but before he has a chance to address any of those concerns, he’s being tugged up to his feet. Not ready for the weight of his own body, his knees buckle and refuse to work. There is a pair of hands clutching his arm automatically– yours– as another pair holds him up from behind by his waist.

He’s not really sure who was his other savior, but by the silent curse heard from behind, he thinks he recognises Eric’s voice.

“I know I shouldn’t have left him alone,” he hears his best friend say, voice full of frustration.

“You really shouldn’t have,” he hears you sigh, making the poor boy scowl.

It still feels like he can’t really speak, exhaustion taking a toll on him, but he follows the orders as you tell him to get on his best friend’s back– Eric’s crouching figure ready for the impact, waiting for the taller one to clutch onto him so he can carry him into the safety of their shared room. The operation has to be quick if they don’t want to be caught by their teachers while walking through the hall, and somehow, in the distant crevices of his brain, Sunwoo recognises that and he makes no battle to resist, doing exactly as he’s told.

“Man, you’re heavy,” he hears Eric huff under him as the poor boy carries him through the hall. “You’re gonna have a killer hangover tomorrow, dude…”

Sunwoo’s head rests against his friend’s shoulder, hands carelessly hanging around Eric’s neck. He tries to blink away the sleep, desiring to stay awake, when your concerned face appears in his vision and suddenly, he feels insanely guilty.

“I’m sorry,” the two words escape his mouth with no trouble– the first words to appear in his vocabulary after the few minutes of him being surprisingly mute– only to hear his friend chuckle.

“Well, you’re going to be dying from a headache tomorrow, not us,” Eric hums, “so I think you have to apologize to future you first.”

Sunwoo pouts, bangs falling into his eyes making him blink in a desperate try to get the stray hairs away, attempting to make eye contact with your side profile. “Are you mad at me?” he asks, voice a little groggy from all the screaming and drinking.

“What?” you ask, genuinely surprised to hear his question. Your face morphs into a confused expression, the one where a wrinkle appears in between your brows– and it takes everything in Sunwoo not to poke the little line with his pointer finger in utter endearance.

“Are you… mad…?” he asks again, watching as your face morphs into amusement.

“No,” you shake your head, a hint of a laugh in your tone. “Why?”

“You look grumpy.”

“I’m just worried,” you note.

“About?” Sunwoo asks, his intelligence morphing into a one of a 10-year old with the influence the alcohol has on him.

“You,” you say, sighing and shaking your head as you move two steps in front of Eric and open the door to their room, closing it swiftly behind you and following the duo towards Sunwoo’s bed.

The younger one drops the boy into the cushions of his bed with an exaggerated sigh (that might as well be real, for all we know– god knows you wouldn’t be able to carry Sunwoo on your own), and the comfort of the pillow around his head is enough to make Sunwoo’s eyes start closing again, sleep threatening to take over his consciousness.

There’s some noise interrupting his sleep, though, making the boy tear his tired eyes open to notice you walking through the room. Sunwoo finds Eric putting a glass of water onto his bedside table and watches as you put a trash can beside his bed, hushed whispers sent Eric’s way resonating in the quiet room. “Make sure that he sleeps on his side so if he throws up again, he doesn’t choke–”

“Y/N?” he calls your name, watching as you look at him with careful eyes.

“Hm?”

“Are you leaving?” he asks, maybe a little foolishly.

“Yes.”

The boy nods at your reaction, showing his acknowledgement. In the drunken state of his mind, he knows he doesn’t particularly want you to leave, but he’s also fairly certain, finding the rational thought in the sober part of his brain, that you have to leave, and so he lets it go. The drunken state of his mind wins, though, when the next sentence foolishly escapes his lips.

“Please don’t stop liking me after this,” he mumbles, words slurring.

“What?” you ask– confused because you either don’t fully comprehend what he’s trying to say, or because you truly just couldn’t hear what words escaped his mouth– but when you don’t get a clarification, you just nod at the boy, seemingly desperate to keep him happy tonight. “Okay, I won’t.”

“You won’t stop liking me?” he asks, a big pout playing with his features.

“No.”

“Okay.”

That seems to put his mind at ease– enough to make his brain finally turn off and lead him to sleep. He doesn’t really remember what he dreamt of that night, but the last memory he has of the night of his 18th birthday is that you promised to not stop liking him after seeing him a drunken mess, and how he so deeply wished you’ll continue to like him forever.

It hits him only a few months later that the thing he so desperately hoped for that night was that you’ll keep liking him even at his worst– that he didn’t drive you away and one day, maybe, you’ll like him more than just a friend.

to. my first detention

September 1999

Sunwoo was never the one to break the rules.

Well, if you don’t count that one time he skipped class just because he got too bored of it in the middle of the lecture. And it wasn’t even that hard either– he just asked if he could go to the bathroom, and when he got the approval, he stood up and left, never returning.

Or if you don’t count that one time he climbed up the ladder on the side of the school building with his friend Juyeon and had his lunch there. Or that one time he cheated on an exam and made a scene about it when accused of the act, leading the professor into letting him off just that one time.

Sunwoo is usually too lazy to break the rules. Some days, paradoxically, his laziness is what leads him to break the rules. He can’t really help it, even if he tried.

The one time he does break the rules, expecting to be punished by his teacher for coming late to class, it’s not even his fault in the first place. Morning football practice ran late and he didn’t feel like rushing to change out of his practice clothing– see, the laziness is playing a part in this as well– so when he arrived into his Physics lecture, the clock was already 15 minutes after the bell rang for the first period.

Much to his surprise, his teacher didn’t even punish him. “Well, you’re an athlete, so it’s understandable,” he heard, making his lips stretch out into a subtle smile. If he knew that joining the football club would lead him to have such privileges, he would’ve done it a long time ago.

How did he still end up in detention, you may ask? Well, that’s a funny question.

Your flushed face appears in the doorway of the classroom exactly 2 minutes after Sunwoo does, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Your hair tied up in a ponytail is loose now, stray hairs falling out to frame your face, your school uniform wrinkly, shirt not tucked in properly, as you spit out endless apologies to your teacher about being late for lecture.

“I’m really, really sorry about being late,” you bow, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you look around the classroom with apologetic eyes, “I had cheerleading practice and it ran a bit late, so I didn’t have enough time to–”

“Sit, Ms Y/L/N,” the teacher hums, “if you have time to do any other activities other than being in class, I’m sure you’ll have time to stay after class for detention, am I right?”

“Sir, I really–”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Now, are you seeing the difference in the way you and Sunwoo were treated? That’s right. It may not look like it, because the young football player rarely puts effort into anything (other than the game), but when something angers him, it’s quite difficult for him to keep it in.

And that’s exactly why his ass is currently sitting in one of the chairs of his classroom, legs spread wide as he looks around the silent room in boredom. Accusing his teacher for being sexist and holding to double standards wasn’t the best idea, but it was enough to get him into detention alongside you.

His eyes get caught up with something– someone– sitting two desks in front of him, one to the right, scribbling their homework into their notebook. At least you are using up the detention time for important and useful things, he thinks. That won’t stop him from interrupting you in your task, though. Even better– it encourages him.

Tearing out a piece of paper from his notebook, Sunwoo fishes for a pen in one of his pockets, writing a short note that says: Wanna get ramen after this? before he crumbles the paper into a small ball. After watching the teacher for a few seconds, making sure that he’s not going to get caught, he throws the ball in your direction, aiming straight for your head.

He misses. Well, that’s why he plays football and not volleyball– he doesn’t have good aim when it comes to his hands– but nonetheless, the note ends up hitting your shoulder before it bounces off and falls to the ground.

Confused, you look around before you find Sunwoo staring at you, pointing towards the paper on the ground with a grin on his face. You sigh, sending a telepathic signal of ‘you’re acting like a child again,’ straight into his brain before you reach for the paper ball and take it into your hands, fingers uncurling the thin material and reading out the words he’s sent to you.

Only a few seconds pass before you throw the ball back to him– he catches it in his hands, earning an approving look from you at his strangely fast reflexes, making a sense of victory flow gracefully through his veins. A frown settles on his face when he reads out your reply, though.

can’t. I promised Aeri I’ll hang out with her later. we’re going for frozen yogurt.

Sunwoo furrows his brows. Oh how he hates to be denied.

I can join!! i could use some froyo

You send a tired look to him over your shoulder when you receive the message, rolling your eyes at his comment. It’s obvious that Sunwoo can’t join– he knows it by the look in your eyes. Hell, he knew he wasn’t invited even before he asked– he just likes to see your frustration. Something about the way your face scrunches up, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, amuses him in a way he can’t really describe.

you could’ve gotten yours instead of staying in detention. what was that about, by the way?? I’ve never seen anyone willingly do detention… you must be out of your mind

The message makes him chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. His motives are clear– well, at least in his brain. If he stays in detention, he can see you for some more. Which means he can hang out with you more (or look at the back of your head from afar, whichever you grace him with on that particular day). And he wants to spend as much time with you as he can, well, because… because he just likes to do so. Why?

Don’t ask. He hasn’t thought it out that far yet.

I just like things to be fair. I came late too :((

He writes back instead. Fairness is the last thing he cares about if the world is in his favor. If the world is unfair to you, though– that’s another thing.

weirdo.

You write back. The pen is already in his hand, ink getting hotter as he masters up a reply, when the loud voice of his teacher cuts through the classroom and announces that detention is over and they’re all dismissed. Something in Sunwoo’s stomach drops.

Sighing, he puts the note back into his pocket (and will forget to throw it out. Then, he’ll find it there after a few days, unravel the ball and read over the letters with a smile. He won’t throw it out then either– he’ll crumble it back and keep it there until the paper wears out and forms into litter in the pocket of his pants). Gathering his things into his bag, he swings the backpack over one of his shoulders before catching up with you, already halfway out of the classroom. You seem to be in a rush to meet Aeri– he understands– but there’s still one more thing he needs to do.

Clearing his throat, Sunwoo approaches you from the back. “Hey!”

“Hi,” you hum, adjusting the bag on your shoulder. “Aeri’s waiting for me outside, so I gotta–”

“Wait, I– I have something for you,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. Why does he suddenly feel so nervous? The words his sister said to him yesterday keep resonating in his head, and although he knows it’s not true and he doesn’t see you in that way, his stomach churns and he clutches his hand into a fist by his side, a desperate act to ground himself.

“What?” you look at him, eyebrows furrowed, all confused. Sunwoo’s not the one to give gifts– sure, he pays for your meals sometimes, but that’s only because you share them and he comes to the logical conclusion that he eats more of the portion than you do anyways, so it’s only fair.

“Um… well, my sister… she was making those bracelets yesterday and she made me do it with her, because she’s really annoying when she wants to be,” he mumbles, fishing for the bracelet in the front pocket of his backpack, lying straight through his teeth.

You stare at him with wide eyes, completely unreadable to Sunwoo. Well, he already said it, so he may as well just dig his hole even deeper. The yarn is soft under his touch when he twirls the bracelet in his fingertips, eyes focusing on the shades of red and pink, suddenly too afraid to face you and look you in the eyes. “And, uh… we made too many, so I brought you one, because… you’re my friend, and all,” he mumbles, chewing the inside of his cheek.

His sneakers are oh so interesting to look at in the few seconds he spends waiting for your reply. He feels like he’s in court, waiting for his ordeal– anxiety making him bounce on the tips of his feet, his other hand clutching the strap of his backpack for dear life.

“Did you make that?” you ask, tone of voice genuinely appreciative.

“Yeah,” he shrugs.

He did not.

“That’s– that’s really cute,” you gasp, making the boy finally look up. When he finds that the words are addressed to the bracelet his sister made, not his act of kindness, something inside of him gets irritated, but the little devil in his chest leaves just as fast when you meet his eye and take the yarn from his hands, examining the red and pink knots from a closer distance.

“Yeah,” he hums, not really knowing what to say.

“Can you tie it for me?” you ask, offering the bracelet back to the boy and smiling at him, waiting for him to circle it around your wrist and secure it to place with a knot. It’s a bit long, the ends sticking out to different directions, but Sunwoo admits that it does look quite nice against your skin, and that if he forgets about the fact that it was his sister who actually made the bracelet (even though he begged her to teach him for approximately two hours, going as far as bribing her with his snacks), he does feel quite proud of the gesture.

There’s something possessive about the bracelet, he thinks. It's like a sign to everyone that you have someone who cares about you enough to tie it around your wrist. It’s like saying hey, this is my best friend! No one else enjoys their company enough to make a bracelet to prove it, but me. It’s like a silent translation of the heart’s calling: this person is mine. They’re not allowed to take this off until I die.

Sunwoo feels a bit giddy as he watches you admire the yarn around your wrist. You sport the same expression as Eric did when he forced a bracelet out of his sister yesterday– eyes glimmering, the widest grin on your features. While he may be sure what the face meant when it came to his best friend (although he tries to close his eyes from the obvious crush he has on his sister), he’s not quite certain when it comes to you.

In his mind, you smile like this at everyone. You’re just that kind of person.

But oh does he wish you mirror Eric’s feelings on the matter. Oh does he hope you tell everyone he is the one who gave the bracelet to you– he hopes you boost in front of your friends, tell them just how much you like it.

…maybe his sister was right.

Maybe the bracelet had a deeper intention.

August 2007

“So,” Sunwoo hums, taking a salty chip from the bowl settled in the middle of the table, looking over at you with a curious gaze, “how have you been?” he asks, chewing as he waits for you to answer.

It’s an easy question, one would think– and it’s true, it’s not the most difficult thing to answer. But considering the circumstances, the fact that you and Kim Sunwoo haven’t seen each other since you both graduated from high school, despite telling each other you’ll stay in contact and see each other whenever you have the chance to– it gets a little bit more difficult. It’s been 6 years, many things have changed, you had your fair share of good things happening to you as well as the bad.

What do you tell Sunwoo, though– a friend you lost somewhere along the way, much like everyone? Well, you can’t really blame him for growing distant with you– although to this day, you don’t really know the reasoning. He was the first one to leave, and although you always wished him the best, nobody can really blame you for doing your part at flying out of your nest. Everyone has to experience the outside world before they can find their place in it, no?

It’s not your fault that you weren’t as successful as you wanted to be…

“Well, you know,” you shrug, “so and so. Many things happened, but I guess I’m doing fine,” you conclude, nodding to yourself.

The face Sunwoo offers you is one of concern. You recognise that this is not really what he wanted to hear– not really what he expected you to say. The both of you were always ambitious, shooting for the stars, so it would be nice to know that at least one of you finally chased down the dreams you’ve had since you were young.

“What about you?” you ask quickly, shielding yourself from more interrogation. “How did football go?”

That has Sunwoo chuckling, averting his gaze. He takes a sip of the soda placed on his table before he turns to you again and answers the question, shrugging to himself. “Didn’t really go as I planned,” he says, nodding to himself. “Guess I lost many years on it, but oh well. Can’t really take it back now.”

“Don’t say that,” you hum, chewing on the inside of your cheek. The answer he offered you was not surprising to you– not that you didn’t believe in his abilities, not at all. It’s just that by now, if Sunwoo’s dreams came true, you’d be aware. You’d hear about him everywhere. You’d see him on the news, in the paper… It seems like your friend has disappeared out of the spotlight he always wanted even sooner than he could walk straight into the stardom. You wouldn’t say you were keeping tabs on him, no– you just cared enough to try to look for him in every place you could. “It wasn’t lost years. You did what you loved, and you tried your best.”

“I know,” he says, scrunching up his nose in an adorable manner before he sighs, “I’m just moping around. Besides, I quite like the life I’ve had since coming back home,” he admits.

“You do?” you ask, eyes glimmering in the lights. Something in you shifts– moves to a more comfortable place at the information. It’s strange that hearing that he’s doing fine still makes you feel at peace. It’s been years– you really shouldn’t care by now.

“I do,” he nods, “I work at Juyeon’s father’s bakery now. I didn’t really expect to like it, but there’s something charming about it, I’ll have you know,” Sunwoo says, taking another handful of chips into his hand before feeding them to himself, seemingly trying to chase down the tipsiness in his bloodstream.

That drags out a giggle out of you, shaking your head at the news. “I wouldn’t take you for a bakery kind of guy,” you say, “I can’t really imagine you in the kitchen.”

“Well, times change, Y/N-ie,” the nickname slips out between his lips like a punch to your gut, his teasing tone dragging nails to you in a weird sense of nostalgia, “I’m the best baker in town right now. People go crazy over my cinnamon rolls,” he nods, pointing a finger to you as if to prove his point.

“I find that hard to believe,” you squint at him, shaking your head in disbelief.

“You’ll have to come and find out,” he says, the sentence so casual that the contrast of his following statement has your heart drop a little, “well, if you’re… staying around for a bit, of course…”

Humming, watching as his eyes soften at the shift in your composure, you nod in agreement. “I’ll make sure to add that to my plan.”

Sunwoo nods in acknowledgement. Swallowing down the chips that were in his mouth, he dusts off his hands off the excess salt and licks his lips before speaking up again, seemingly collecting his thoughts. “So you’re staying around for a while?” he asks, a little bit cautious.

He doesn’t really know how sensitive this topic is for you– you don’t even know if he’s aware of your previous whereabouts, if he knows where you left off to and why– but Sunwoo stays caring, no matter the amount of time you spent not talking, no matter the big canyon that slowly formed in between the two of you in the years of no contact. It’s something you’ve always appreciated about him. He liked joking around, but he always knew where the boundaries laid, always knew when the joke went too far. He tried hard to avoid poking around too much, but he always made sure to apologize if he realized he hurt someone’s feelings. He’s a spark of violent fire, but he’s also tamed like a fireplace when he wants to be– warm, comfortable. It’s easy to feel like it’s back in the old times when you’re around him. It’s easy to pretend neither of you ever really left.

“I am,” you nod. “Things… didn’t really work out for me either, y’know,” you chuckle, the dry kind that shows just how bitter you are about the matter. “I went to New York with the internship my aunt arranged for me in KBS, but I guess I just… wasn’t really good enough to keep full-time.”

“Don’t say that,” Sunwoo mirrors your previous statement, an honest attempt at comforting you.

“No, it’s okay,” you laugh, “I stayed abroad for a while, tried hard, but sometimes, it’s just not meant to be, y’know? So after I realized my jobs weren’t making me enough money for a decent living in the States, I came back home,” you say, mouth forming a pout as you speak– the kind that shows you’re lost in thought, making up a plan as you go, “I’ll help my parents out for a while and then look for something to do here, I think.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad,” Sunwoo says, offering you a soft smile. “I… I guess I’d say it’s good to have you back,” he admits, averting his gaze as he says the words, “ever since I came home, it felt like something was missing, so… anyways, you’ll figure it out, so don’t worry too much.”

“Thanks, Sunwoo,” you hum, pressing your lips into a tight smile, heart squeezing a little at his sincerity. It’s strange– it’s been years, having lived through countless different situations that were supposed to change the both of you, shift you into two completely different people– but somehow, Sunwoo still feels the same. Almost as if you two never left. Almost as if you two never drifted apart and instead spent your early twenties side-by-side, just like you always planned on doing.

The boy looks at you from the corner of his eye, a content smile spreading on his lips. You feel the atmosphere shifting, the situation tensing up a bit, and with the discomfort the image of him leaving you alone brings you, the words slip out of your lips with a bit too much ease.

“Would you want to… dance with me? I wanna see if you still remember what I taught you,” you grin, watching as the playful expression mirrors on your friend’s face, a nod eliciting from him that makes you quickly put your shoes back on and get ready for the dancefloor.

“Of course,” he hums, standing up swiftly and wiping his hands on the fabric of his pants before outstretching a hand for you, tone of voice sweet like honey, “my lady?”

to. my first dance

November 1999

“Who are you asking to the dance?” you question one afternoon, the two of you behind the closed doors of his room. There aren’t many times where Sunwoo gets to invite you over– mostly because he’s too shy to have someone around when his sister is home, and his sister isn’t known to have that many friends to hang out with– so the times where he finds you settled on top of the sheets of his bed, he treasures deeply.

“I dunno,” he mumbles, looking up at you from the comfort of his rug, shrugging, “I don’t really think I’m going, actually.”

“Oh?” you gasp, pouting at the boy. “Why not?”

“I don’t really have anyone to go with,” he says. What he really means is– you’re going with someone else. Sunwoo doesn’t really see himself dancing with anyone else but you– that’s just that kind of bond you two have in his mind. Your friendship is dear to Sunwoo, and the boy can’t think of anyone else he’d like to spend the evening with.

When his sister argued with him with logical words, telling him that he treasures his friendship with Eric just the same, but wouldn’t invite him to the prom, he just scoffed at her. MB!Y/N doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t treasure Eric in the same way, no matter the fact that they pretty much grew up together. Some things just don’t feel the same way with Eric as they do with you. He feels closer to you, in a way.

“Well, that’s bullshit,” you scoff, shaking your head at your friend, “you’re handsome. And you play football, which is every girl’s dream. I bet anyone would go with you if you just asked,” you propose, pointing a finger at the boy, not really noticing the way he blinks at hearing the words ‘you’re handsome’ coming out of your mouth in regards to him.

Do you find him handsome? Is that your subjective opinion or are you just objectively saying what you’ve heard in the cheerleader changing rooms?

He’d like to know. Just out of curiosity.

Sunwoo scratches the back of his neck in nerves, now fully seated and facing you. It’s hard to meet your eye when he talks, his words coming out muffled. “I can’t dance anyway, so it would be no fun for everyone involved.”

And watching you dance with his classmate Shotaro would be no fun either. See, it would be easy for Sunwoo to be okay with the fact that you were going to the prom with someone older (which is practically impossible, since you’re both seniors, just for the record…). He would understand your point, then. It’s easy to be okay with defeat when your opponent has the upper hand, but when you put two men against each other that are hierarchically equal to each other, much like Sunwoo and Shotaro, the poor boy finds it hard to not feel as insecure in his position.

But with Shotaro being the same age as him and the same amount of popular as him, Sunwoo can’t help but compare himself to his classmate. What does Shotaro have that Sunwoo doesn’t? Is it his smile? Should Sunwoo smile more…?

It doesn’t really help his case that you’re going to the prom with the head of the dance team. Sunwoo can’t dance… Is it the fact that he can’t dance?

Or are you just going to the prom with Shotaro because he was the one to ask you to go? Sunwoo can’t help but wonder– would you have gone with him, had he the balls and asked you first?

“What do you mean, you can’t dance?” you say, eyeing the male.

“Just… never learned to, I guess,” Sunwoo shrugs, “but it doesn’t really matter, since I’m not going, so…”

“But you have to go,” you pout, putting the boy in a difficult position. He doesn’t know if you’re aware of the fact, but your pleading look does wonders to his decision making. He’d commit arson if you asked him to with those glimmers in your eyes. He’d kill for you. Or die for you. Both, depending on the situation. He’d do anything.

“Why?”

“It won’t be fun if you’re not there,” you say, sighing. Your face looks so genuine Sunwoo almost believes it. It makes his heart squeeze and contemplate his decision. “I know Donghyuck is gonna spike the punch, and there are gonna be fireworks,” you hum, chewing on the inside of your cheek, “and this is our senior prom, Sunwoo… you have to come.”

The words resonate in his brain, making him even more hesitant about his decision. This is your senior prom– the last dance of your high school years. The last opportunity for Sunwoo to enjoy this time with you and his friends, the last chance he gets at seeing you in a pretty gown, all dolled up and smiling from the sneaky sips of alcohol you’ll get with everyone outside of the school gym. The last opportunity for Sunwoo to dance with you, his best friend, and possibly the last time he’ll ever enjoy his evening with the rest of his football team before all of them have to study in order for them to take their CSAT.

Maybe you’re right. Maybe he should go.

“I’ll think about it, I guess…” he mumbles, watching as your face morphs.

“You guess?” you scoff, glaring at him. “You’ll go or I’ll personally come to your house and drag you there by your hair, you get me, Kim Sunwoo?” you threaten him, having the boy laugh at your outburst. You’re really adorable when you tease him, Sunwoo thinks.

“Got it, chief,” he says, offering you a playful look as he salutes and lays back down onto the carpet, eyes pressed to the ceiling. “Don’t expect me to dance, though, because I refuse to embarrass myself. I have quite the reputation to uphold, you see.”

Sunwoo hears you chuckle, the noise of his sheets tousling landing into his ears. Before he has a chance to look at you and see what you’re doing, his view of the white wall above is shielded with the sight of your face, hair framing your cheeks as you stare down at him and put out your hands, waiting for him to take them and get up to a seated position.

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“I’m gonna teach you, come on,” you call him with a motion of your hand, arms still outstretched and waiting.

“Huh?” he squints, watching as you roll your eyes in frustration.

“I’ll teach you how to dance, Sunwoo,” you snicker, watching as the boy slowly takes your hands and lets you drag him up from where he’s laying on his electric blue rug, “so you don’t embarrass yourself.”

That has Sunwoo stuttering, his figure freezing even when you manage to somehow make him stand up in the middle of his room. A million different exclamation marks appear all over his brain, warning him from the upcoming events, but he has no way of denying your proposition now, no matter how hard he tries. “No- it’s- you don’t have to, I’ll just-”

“Okay, so,” you say, dismissing all his previous attempts at stopping you from your quest, “first, you put your hand here,” you order.

The skin of your fingertips touches Sunwoo’s hand, making the boy’s heart stummer in his chest. You drag his palm towards your waist, placing it on the curve of your body. He swears he feels electricity flowing through the contact, warmth radiating off your skin even though it’s shielded by the fabric of your favorite shirt. He gulps as you put your hand on his shoulder, his eyes carefully following your movements, examining every slightest shift of your composure.

“And then you hold my hand with your other hand,” you instruct, but move to do it yourself when the boy doesn’t seem to have it in him to reach for your palm himself.

Your fingers interlock with his, making the boy chew on his bottom lip in a sudden flash of nerves. You’re standing so close he can smell your perfume, the scent making his head spin and feel lightheaded. If you made him turn in this moment, he’s sure he’d fall over, weak legs barely holding him up in your close proximity.

“Sunwoo?” you ask, making the boy gulp before he hums in acknowledgement.

“You have to look into my eyes when you slow dance,” you laugh, the sound soft and airy, but enough to have his stomach feel all weird, like he’s about to throw up. Still, he forces himself to look into your eyes, instantly feeling like you’re hypnotizing him. (He’s convinced he’d jump out of his window right in this moment if you asked him to.)

“Okay,” he nods, standing still, maintaining eye contact. His body is stiff, muscles tense as you just stand there for a moment. Sunwoo battles his inner fight and doesn’t look at any other features of your face– he has a weird obsession with staring at your lips whenever you talk to him lately. He feels like a weirdo every time he catches himself doing it, so he tries to get rid of the bad habit as much as he can.

“Now, you just… kind of sway to the beat,” you say. The boy nods, but his body stays unmoving.

“There’s… there’s no music playing,” he gets out, watching as you chuckle, your lips stretching out into an adorable grin.

“Right,” you nod, sighing, “well, I’ll just… let me just…” you mumble before you start humming a tune– one that makes Sunwoo laugh from how ridiculous it sounds, the notes so unfamiliar to him he’s sure you’re making it up as you go. Before he knows it, you start moving, making him mirror your actions.

It’s not as difficult as he thought it was, he thinks. You stare at him, all encouraging, as you sway from one foot to the other, nodding at him when you see that he’s following your lead well. Dancing with you suddenly feels like the easiest thing in the world, it feels like he was born to have you in his arms, in the middle of his room as you hum an unfamiliar song to him. He thinks going to the dance won’t be so bad– not if he gets to dance with you there for at least one more time.

“Doing well,” you smile, making the boy feel all warm on the inside. A feeling of victory flashes over him for a mere second. He beams in your considerate words, feels fuzzy under your warm gaze. He feels like he just won the lottery. It’s kind of silly, if he really thinks about it.

A boyish grin appears on his face, having Sunwoo shaking his head at how both ridiculous and over the moon he feels right now. The stream of hums coming out of your throat cuts off for a second as you talk to him with an instructing tone, a warm gaze pressed into his features. “So you can either do this, or you can…” the hand that was holding his suddenly untangles itself from between his fingertips (and Sunwoo’s momentarily glad, because his palm was getting quite sweaty– although he admits that it does feel empty now that you’re not holding it), before you place his other hand on your waist as well.

Something about the pose makes Sunwoo feel strangely intimate, a little bit bashful under your gaze. It only intensifies when your hands go up and entangle behind his neck, bringing you two even closer than before. The proximity has him blushing, red cheeks bringing heat to his face. He prays you don’t mention it– he really doesn’t know if he would be able to talk himself out of this one.

“Or you can do it like this,” you say before you lead the boy again, bodies swaying to an imaginary rhythm. You’re not even humming this time, having Sunwoo follow your movements in complete silence, his aimless movements mirroring your own. He’s surprised he hasn’t stepped on your foot yet when you decide to quickly teach him how to waltz (while also mumbling something about this dance being performed with the previous hand placement). He follows your orders– step forward, close, then another step backwards– and before he knows it, you’re leading him into a gentle turn, rising and falling in a ¾ count.

He’s getting lost in your voice– the softest “1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3,” helping him to stay in rhythm– before he’s pulled out of his trance as he feels your fingers playing with the hair on his nape, entangling yourself into his black locks. The motion has him look back up to your eyes (that have been previously glued to your feet, making sure he’s not stepping on your socked limbs), surprised when he sees you staring at him with a sweet smile playing with your lips.

Halting your movements for a bit, you let out a giggle and take him by surprise when your hand reaches up towards his bangs, ruffling his hair as he still holds you around your waist, the two of you almost hugging in his room. “See? Not that hard. You’re a born natural.”

His heart feels like it skipped a beat, a weird sense of panic enclosing around his chest. He doesn’t know what it is, not really knowing how to name the feeling, but it has him nervously smiling and urging him to escape you– escape your touch, escape your scent, your voice and the way you smile at him like you may feel the slightest ounce of the things he does for you, but refuses to accept on most days.

Rushed movements make him break apart from your grasp, quick breathing making him feel like he might spiral.

“Hey! We weren’t done yet!” you call after him when he runs towards the door of his room.

Not looking around, the boy gulps and nervously calls back to you, facing the door. “I’ll be back! I just have to pee!”

The door to his bathroom closes behind him with a loud shut. The boy doesn’t aim for the toilet– instead, he walks over to the sink, turning on the tap and splashing his face with ice cold water. When he’s done, feeling a bit less heated up, he looks up and stares at his face in the mirror. He gives himself some time to collect his thoughts, to hopefully let go of his foolishness.

How many more times will he have to remind himself that he only sees you as a friend?

to. my first date

January 2000

The snow crunches under his sneakers and makes Sunwoo slip on the cold surface– no wonder his mother screamed at him for not wearing his winter shoes before he went out with his friends. He bets it would be way less difficult to walk in the whiteness of the ground if he had more grip in the soles of his shoes, but oh well– he’s not really good at making clever decisions half the time. Nobody can really be surprised.

Somewhere along the way between the moment he’s interrogated his sister about the reason for her bad mood and the moment where he purposefully let her with his best friend at the top of the hill with no way out (he had a hunch the two of them had some things to talk about, from both of their uneasy demeanours for the last day), he realizes he lost both his sister and his best friend, and while he’s quite certain Eric can find his way home just fine, Sunwoo shivers at the thought of not bringing his sister home to his mother. He’s not quite sure he’d survive that.

The quest of finding you both begins the moment the friend group reaches the top of the hill. Given his sister’s impulsiveness, she could’ve ran away from home, and that’s not what he wants to deal with on such a pretty winter day.

Sunwoo finds his plan being successful the moment he reaches the hot chocolate stand. The victory he feels after finding his younger sister alive and healthy is quickly overshadowed with the sight of his best friend’s face close to hers, very clearly going in for a kiss. He thinks he has to do something before he is permanently scarred with the image of them two making out right in front of his eyes as he gathers some of the icy texture into his hands and makes a ball, aiming straight at the head of his best friend.

The snow hits the both of them, right in the middle where their faces are supposed to meet. It’s not quite where Sunwoo was aiming, but he figures it’s good enough– it stopped his sister and his friend in the act, and that’s all he really cares about at this moment.

“Eric Sohn, what the fuck do you think you’re doing with my sister?” Sunwoo hollers, watching as his childhood friend takes off and leaves his sister alone on the bench to watch the conflict. The rest of the group follows with laughter as Sunwoo gathers more snow, tailing Eric and making sure the boy is punished for whatever he’s been doing.

It’s not like he disapproves. Not at all, actually. He just thinks it’s fun to mess with him a little.

“I didn’t mean to! Hey!” Eric cries out over his shoulder, trying his best to escape the frostbite. Karma is not on his side as he trips over something and falls to the ground, efficiently helping Sunwoo and the rest of their circle to corner the poor youngest, snow hailed on his limp figure.

One would think the group of them were making a snowman with how they’re rolling the poor boy around in the snow. Juyeon and Donghyuck make sure there’s not a hint of skin unhidden by the ice, making Eric mourn and kick around– he’s left helpless, though, outpowered and outnumbered by his peers. If anyone unknowing was watching the scene, Sunwoo is sure he’d be framed for bullying.

He thinks it’s quite deserved. Why? He’s not really sure why. He just has a hunch.

“Okay! Enough!” Eric mumbles, shaking his head when Donghyuck tries to fit snow into his mouth. “I’m sorry! It won’t happen again!” he says, eyes opening wide as MB!Y/N appears somewhere behind her older brother, a teasing pout settled on her face.

“It won’t?”

“MB!Y/N– I– Just help me..?” the boy pleads, making the rest of the group laugh and finally relax, easing the attack. Juyeon hums something about young love, making the rest of the guys roll their eyes on his unusual cheesiness, before Donghyuck taps his teammate’s shoulder, making sure he’s paying attention to him.

Sunwoo raises his eyebrows at him, waiting for what he has to say. “Look, isn’t that Y/N?”

There are a few ways to catch Sunwoo’s attention. First– you have to mention football. He could spend hours on the topic of who’s the best player– Ko Jongsoo or Ahn Junghwan? If anyone asked him to write an essay on it, he’s quite certain he’d do a great job explaining their techniques and goal statistics for numerous pages. Second– you have to mention food. He’s a big fan of junk food, but ever since his friend Juyeon introduced him to their family bakery, he’s been a big cinnamon roll enthusiast. And third– you have to mention Y/N.

Just the mention of your name is enough for the boy to stand alert, suddenly all too knowing of his surroundings. He turns his head to look for you, catching sight of your figure dressed in your long coat, standing all alone at the bottom of the hill. There’s an almost bored-looking expression on your face, although Sunwoo thinks there’s a bit of disappointment behind your eyes, making a cloud shade your them and make them lose their usual glimmer. That alone has the boy frowning, and before Donghyuck can say anything more or try to gossip about your sudden arrival, Sunwoo takes off– trying his hardest not to slip on the snow in his sneakers as he runs down the hill and tries his hardest to get to you quickly.

“Y/N!” he calls for you, getting your attention. You turn to him with expecting eyes, watching as the boy runs towards you and does, indeed, slip on the snow.

He manages to save it. Doesn’t mean you didn’t see him falter, though. “Careful there,” you grin, making the boy mentally kick himself in the shin at being uncool in front of you.

Sunwoo glosses over the comment, ignoring the previous two seconds of his life. If he acts like he’s not embarrassed, it might as well come true. “What are you doing here? I thought you said you’re hanging out with someone else when I invited you on the phone today,” he says, curious to know why you changed your plans so suddenly.

There’s a hint of bitterness in your composure when you shrug, averting your gaze. “That fell through, and I didn’t wanna… I figured you’d be here, so I came…” you trail off, your half-assed explanation enough to bring the boy into an inner conflict– one part of him feels bad for you, his heart clenching when he takes notice of your stern gaze and the disappointed expression on your face, the other one foolishly happy that he got to see you today, that you went here looking for him.

“Oh,” he nods, not really sure if he should pray more information out of you. He tried to ask you about it when he called you this morning, twirling the landline on his finger nervously when he asked you if you wanted to go sledding with him and his friends. He even mentioned his sister tagging along to make sure you didn’t feel as awkward going– you wouldn’t be the only girl there! You’d get along with her well, he said, not really sure if he was lying or not. Either way, his sister does need her own friends… “Well–” he starts, not really sure where his own sentence is going, before you cut him off with a rushed out sentence, spoken so quickly Sunwoo barely registers it in that confused brain of his.

“Would you wanna go on a date with me?” you ask, eyes big as you stare into his.

The question takes a few seconds to register in Sunwoo’s brain. He can physically feel the auditory waves entering his ears and converting themselves into electrical signals by the auditory system. The signals enter his left hemisphere– maybe he could point towards the area with his finger if you asked him to, the impact of the question so present in his mind– and then it decodes in the Wernicke’s area, slowly, but surely making more and more sense to him. The boy gulps at the invitation. He understands the question theoretically now, he’s registered it in his brain, but the practical implication of your preposition is still unclear– why in the hell would you ask him to go on a date with you?

“I…” he stutters, feeling heat rushing to his cheeks. He feels like a fool– he should’ve said yes a few seconds ago, when you first asked the question– but something inside of him is telling him that maybe his reaction is valid. No one expects their friend to randomly ask them out on the bottom of a snowy hill. Certainly not when he was 99% sure you liked someone else.

“Look, it’s- it’s good if you don’t want to, really, I just… I was supposed to go on a date with Shotaro today, but he never arrived, and I…” you nervously scratch your neck, once again averting your gaze from him, “I guess I was hoping you were in the mood to go out with me, since I got all ready and stuff…” you mumble, your tone of voice breaking something inside of him.

Oh. So you weren’t really asking him out. You just didn’t want to feel like a fool that got stood up. How stupid of Sunwoo to think you wanted to go on a date with him. The two of you were just friends, after all. Best friends.

And best friends are for cheering each other up. So despite feeling absolutely defeated, Sunwoo battles the weird feeling in his chest and puts on his best smile. “Of course! Don’t even mention it. Where… where did you wanna go?” he asks, watching as your face relaxes, shoulders falling back to their natural position.

“Are you in the mood for some ramen?” you ask, eyebrows rising in question.

“I’m always in the mood for some ramen,” he nods. He’s always in the mood for whatever you are.

“Great,” you nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Great.”

“So… let’s go,” you say, nodding to yourself as you walk away from the hill, having your best friend tailing you, following you towards the ramen place in the center of the town.

There’s a bit of an awkward silence hanging over you as the two of you escape the sledding area. Sunwoo doesn’t even pay his goodbyes to his friends and his sister, but he trusts that Eric can get her home safely when the time comes to head back. The boy mentally curses out Shotaro for standing you up– how does he dare to ask you out and never arrive? He doesn’t care about the possible circumstances of his classmate’s absence. All he cares about is the saddened look on your face and the unusual quietness enveloping your aura.

“Should I go kick his ass?” he asks, trying his hardest to make you feel better.

“It’s okay, Sunwoo,” you shake your head in disapproval, eyes pressed to the ground.

“Are you sure?” he asks again, not satisfied with your answer. “I’m quite good at fighting, contrary to popular belief, but if things go wrong, I know my friends would have my back,” he says, playfully punching the air.

The little play consisting of him kicking and punching an imaginary figure goes on for a while until he’s satisfied– meaning: until you’re left laughing at his overly exaggerated movements and grunts, shaking your head in disbelief at his boyish antics. Taking his hand in yours to make him stop with the play-fighting, you drag your now interlocked fingers towards your coat pocket, hiding his cold hand in the thick fabric.

Sunwoo’s heart beats fast at that, making him believe it’s going to run out of his chest any minute now– or make him go into cardiac arrest, either or– as he grows speechless, looking at you with big, surprised eyes. You don’t seem to put much meaning to your gesture, going as far as gently caressing your thumb over the back of his palm, his frozen skin growing hot at the contact.

He’s never held hands with you before– if he doesn’t count the amount of times you dragged him around when the both of you were late for the shared cheerleading and football practice on Tuesday afternoons– and so the intimacy of the act makes him feel strangely weak in his knees. It’s hard for him to take his eyes off you, almost looking like a deer in the headlights to anyone watching you two right now. Sniffling from the cold, you shrug.

“It’s okay,” you smile, sending him a quick glance, “I didn’t really like him like that anyway. It just… feels a bit disappointing to get stood up, that’s all,” you nod.

Sunwoo nods at that too, something in him shifting. You don’t like Shotaro like that? When was this piece of information when he really needed it? (For like the last month, every time he couldn’t fall asleep because the thought of you marrying his classmate at one point in the future haunted him too much and made him want to poke the dance club leader’s eyes out?)

“I get it,” he says, walking along with you. Every time he feels the eyes of someone on you two, he feels his chest filling up with an unfamiliar sense of pride. Something about being seen with you as you’re all dolled up and holding his hand in your coat pocket makes him all giddy on the inside– no matter if this is a real date or not.

Because screw it, Kim Sunwoo is tired of reminding himself that he’s supposed to only see you as a friend. Because he doesn’t.

“I’ve never been on a date before, though, so you have to teach me all about that too,” he hums, tonguing the inside of his cheek.

That has a giggle escaping your throat, another shake of your head in disbelief at his words. He doesn’t know what’s so funny, but he decides that as long as you’re laughing, he’s fine with feeling the tiniest bit of humiliation. He’d do anything to make you happy, he thinks. It’s a feeling stronger than him and he doesn’t know how to make it go away– he decided to stop battling it a long time ago.

“Just be yourself, Sunwoo,” you say, “that’s already perfect enough.”

Perfect. Sunwoo’s cheeks grow hot at that. He’s happy that it’s cold out– maybe he could blame his blushing on the weather. The boy isn’t so sure you know about the effect your words have on him. He’s always thought of you as perfect– flawless, funny, friendly, smart, kind and… and beautiful– but the adjective doesn’t quite seem fitting when he looks at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t believe you could hold him to such standards. He’s nothing special. God, he knows he’s not good enough for you– still, he keeps wishing he could be.

“You look really pretty, by the way,” he hears himself say, the words escaping his mouth before he has the chance to stop them. The tone of his voice is quite unnatural in his ears, softer than it usually is, and somehow, the comment makes you roll your eyes, which he finds to be an unnatural reaction.

“You don’t have to say that just because you’re on a date with me,” you hum, eyes not meeting his. (Which might be a good thing. Sunwoo would like to keep his feelings hidden for a bit longer, and he’s not so sure you wouldn’t recognise the tender inkling he has towards you in his longing gaze.)

“I’m not saying it because of that,” he mutters, voice quiet, yet honest.

Watching the side of your face, eyes still glued at every feature of your profile, he knows he’s not lying. He finds you oh so pretty even in the faint hue of the winter sun, with your scarf pulled up to the middle of your chin and hair pinned up with a pretty, silky bow. He finds you nothing short of angelic. Perfect. It’s kind of silly, if he really thinks about it.

Still, he can’t help himself. To this day, he counts the afternoon he spent with you, eating ramen at your favorite place, to be the first date he’s ever gone on.

Somewhere in the corner of his soul, he begs you count it as real too.

August 2007

It’s only a couple of days later when you find yourself in front of Juyeon’s father’s bakery, nervously chewing on your bottom lip and gazing at the glass door. The sun is shining strongly down on your skin, making you feel like you’re going to get a sun stroke if you keep standing in the direct light for any longer, and with the pressure of both the weather and your own thoughts, you decide to stop wasting time and push the door open, entering the establishment.

Not really sure if you’re welcome– who knows, Sunwoo might have just been acting nice and civil for the sake of not ruining his sister’s wedding– you prepared a mental shopping list of things you wanted to get at the bakery. You hadn’t seen your parents in a long time, so you thought a few donuts might make them happy. If Sunwoo just treats you like any regular customer when you walk in, you’ll take it as your sign to act like one and let this whole thing go.

Truth be told, you don’t even know why you’re so nervous. It’s not like you’re promising yourself something more from this… right?

It’s not like you suddenly felt younger again when seeing him at the wedding. It’s not like the memories choked you up when you went to sleep that night, it’s not like the feelings you had for the young boy suddenly waved at you in greeting, reminding you of just how close the two of you were all those years ago.

Not at all. Why would anyone even think that?

The ring above the door makes a sound as you walk in, your insides clenching in a weird mix of nerves and anxiety at encountering Kim Sunwoo again. The store is empty when you reach the counter, but you’re soon greeted by the sound of the staff door opening, a tall figure stumbling in with a tray of pastries, yelling out a quick: “I’ll be right there!”

And as you watch Sunwoo with his bangs sticking to his forehead, an apron tied tightly around his thin waist, you feel like he hasn’t aged a single day and you two are still the same teenagers that ran around your school in order to not miss practice. The boy looks up at you from below his eyelashes, a boyish grin taking over his features as he puts the hot tray down on the counter and throws the kitchen towel he’s been using to shield his skin from the heat to the side, greeting you.

“Y/N! It’s nice seeing you again,” he beams, wiping his hands on his apron, gaze gluing to yours and never leaving, capturing you in a sincere eye contact that you don’t have the heart to break.

“Hi, Sunwoo,” you chuckle, pressing your lips into an honest, yet a little bit awkward smile. “How’s it going?” you ask, desperate to keep the conversation going– afraid that if it dies down, you won’t be able to revive it ever again and you’ll just regret it forever. There’s a weird sense of urgency in you, like you have a time limit to figure everything out– like you have to act now, or everything you ever wanted might slip from between your fingertips– yet, the more you watch Sunwoo in the serene atmosphere of the sweet-smelling bakery, you notice yourself relaxing.

“Good! Better now that you’re here, actually, it’s been a slow day,” he muses, nodding to himself. “What about you? Can I get you anything?” he asks, eyebrows raising, round cheeks on full display as he stares at you with an expecting smile.

“I’m doing well,” you nod, humming, “really well… catching up with my parents, settling in and stuff… You know the deal,” you laugh. “I actually came to get some donuts for my parents, sort-of like a thank you gift for letting me stay until I figure out my own place and stuff,” you say, watching as Sunwoo urgently nods with acknowledgement.

“Say less, darling,” the nickname slips out from him a little too easily, a little too casually for the way it captures your heart. It has you nervously shifting from one foot to another, insides warming up with the impact of his fleeting gaze as he moves to get a box from under the counter, moving closer to the glass vitrine filled with the sweet pastry. “Your mum loves these ones,” he points towards the donuts coated with the pink glazing.

It’s kind of weird– how Sunwoo knows exactly what your mother likes, despite him not being around your house every other day like when the two of you were teenagers. It makes you realize that even though you moved away for years, the time here didn’t stop. Everyone moved on with their lives, everyone continued on as if nothing happened. And you can’t hold it against them– you guess you just hate the weird pit in your stomach that opens up with the realization that while Sunwoo knows which pastries your mum likes (most likely because she stops by to buy bread often, taking some treats with her for her and dad while she’s at it), you don’t.

You try hard not to show it on your face, though. Sunwoo continues to pack more donuts into the box, not really attempting to ask you for what you’d like– he just chooses himself, making sure you bring home the best ones of the bunch, the most delicious ones they carry. Letting him do his work, merely watching as he carefully moves the donuts from the vitrine to the box, you hear him continue on with the conversation.

“You came in on the right day,” Sunwoo hums, “Juyeon works tomorrow, so you wouldn’t be able to catch me if you went.”

Ignoring the fact that he sees right through you– sees that your intention was to see him, to have a way to visit him and attempt to rekindle whatever bond you had when you were young– you just chuckle. You can’t blame him for knowing you so well, despite not being around each other for so many years. When you were young and in love, you used to call him your soulmate, after all. You guess there’s always a hint of truth, even in the most lovesick fantasies. “Well, then I’m glad I went in today,” you admit.

Sunwoo smiles at that– the kind of smile you always loved at him, the one where he shows his teeth and his eyes crinkle up into moon crescents. Once he’s done packing your donuts, he puts the box on the counter, showing you his back just as fast when he turns around, seemingly grabbing something else as well. When he’s facing you again, there’s a sweet pastry in his hand, still warm.

“What’s that?” you ask when you notice him offering it to you, eyes peering into his.

“A cinnamon roll,” he says, waiting for you to take it into your hands, “I told you everyone goes crazy over my cinnamon rolls, so I wanna see if their magic works on you too.”

“Is this how you flirt with girls over here?” you chuckle, but take the bun into your hand nonetheless, taking a hesitant bite of the treat. The sweetness melts on your tongue, the warmth of the freshly-baked pastry enchanting you with its taste, something about its essence weirdly reminding you of home.

“Haven’t tried it before,” he shrugs, “so tell me if it’s working,” he jokes, watching as you chew on the roll.

“Well, is it any good?”

Humming in satisfaction, delight on the tip of your tongue as you swallow down the heavenly dough, you nod. “It’s to die for, Sunwoo.”

“Told you,” he shoots you a cheesy finger-gun, reminding you so much of your best friend from high school, before he turns and takes a paper bag from somewhere, talking to you as his back faces you again, “I’ll get you some more to take home with you. I bet they didn’t have those in the Big Apple.”

“If I knew I was missing out on these, I would have come back quicker,” you joke, watching as Sunwoo turns to you with an amused look on his face, seemingly enjoying the praise.

The eye contact unarms you again, your composure falling just the slightest. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you clear your throat and reach for your wallet, ready to pay and leave so you can think about the interaction on your way home (and overthink every slightest detail, just like teenage you would after every fleeting touch young Sunwoo would send your way). “How much do I owe you?” you ask.

“Oh, it’s on the house,” he says, licking his lips, “consider it a… welcome gift, if you will,” he hums, offering you the box full of donuts and the paper bag consisting his infamous cinnamon rolls, your skin touching just the slightest when you take them from him, but still making electricity jolt through the nerve endings of your fingertips.

“No, Sunwoo, I really can’t-” you shake your head, but get caught off by him.

“Take them, please. You can pay me back some… other time?” he cautiously says, seemingly not really knowing if he’s still within your desired boundaries.

“O-okay, then,” you nod, agreeing to the subtle invitation– the subtle promise to meet again, the hopeful question leading into something more. “Thank you, Sunwoo,” you hum, smiling as you turn towards the door and get prepared to walk out, giving both of you some time to think about what happened in the last few minutes.

As you open your mouth to say goodbye to him, hand landing on the doorknob, you hear him call after you once more.

“Oh and Y/N?” he says, a confident look suddenly overtaking his features. “I end here at 5, if you’d like to hang out after.”

Unknowingly, a grin appears on your features, the one that’s so strong you can’t really mask it no matter how hard you try– as you nod at him, the victorious feeling flowing through your veins maybe even a bit dangerous. Still, you don’t have it in you to turn the invitation down– you wouldn’t be able to even in your wildest dreams.

This is what you came here for, after all, isn’t it?

“Okay,” you agree. “So… I’ll see you later?”

“See you later,” he nods, teeth capturing his bottom lip. It’s kind of adorable. He couldn’t battle the smile threatening to pull at the corners of his mouth, no matter how hard he tried.

Maybe coming here– coming back home– was the best thing you could’ve done.

“Wanna come in?” Sunwoo asks. It’s a few hours later– you followed through with his invitation and waited for him in front of the bakery at 5:05 sharp, catching him after his shift. You two took a walk through the whole town, waltzing slowly through his neighborhood until you reached his childhood house. You remember far too many afternoons spent in the comfort of the walls, and although you think it would be nice to revisit those memories, you notice his mother’s car (is it still hers? You have no way of knowing.) in the driveway, and suddenly, you’re too shy to join him as he drops his stuff off in his house.

It’s like you’re a teenager again– except, you never had any problems meeting his mother before. She was a nice woman, although a little busy (you only heard Sunwoo complain about the fact a few times– mainly when he was feeling sentimental or particularly under the weather about something), and she always treated you very nicely. Almost like you were supposed to join the family one day. His sister once asked you if you’re gonna marry him, and you laughed at her back then– you were so young, you didn’t even think of having a wedding with Kim Sunwoo. The funniest thing was the timing: you weren’t even dating him at the time. Or planning to, really. Sure, you always imagined somehow spending the rest of your life with him, in one way or another, but the thought of marriage didn’t often cross your mind. Life is ironic, you think– MB!Y/N was the first one to have a wedding and here you are, retangling your life paths with her brother again.

So no, you were never really scared or shy in front of his mother. Back then, things were different though. Simpler? You’d say they were definitely easier. You were more extroverted and open, more ambitious and less embarrassed of how your life turned out to be.

Also, you didn’t want to give her any ideas. It’s far too soon for that, you think.

“No,” you shake your head, hesitating a little bit, “I’ll wait for you here,” you say, watching as he smiles at you and nods, walking inside of the house to drop off his things and change.

You two didn’t really have any plans for the rest of the evening. You told Sunwoo he could show you around town, tell you what changed and what stayed exactly the same, since he came home earlier than you– you bet it could be two or three years ago. He eagerly nodded, although noted that not much is different in your hometown and your walk could turn out pretty uneventful. No plans were set in stone, though.

Nervously shuffling from one foot to another, you decide to walk around the yard. Sunwoo’s house was always big– although it seemed more giant to you when you were a teenager. It’s a strange observation, since you didn’t really grow any more inches since you hit puberty. Your eyes study the flowers in front of the gate, the mowed grass, the big tree in the backyard. If you focus hard enough, you could almost see the two of you laying under it, letting the leaves shield you from the sun, both much younger and carefree than now. Sunwoo would show you pages of his favorite comic books and you’d play on your Tamagochi, making sure it doesn’t die in two days like his did when he first got it. When you turn to your right, you see the garden house you two– sometimes with his sister, sometimes with Eric, sometimes with both of them at once– spent many afternoons in.

There used to be an old, red sofa inside. There wasn’t much space, since it was filled with gardening supplies, Sunwoo’s and MB!Y/N’s old bikes, flower pots, packs of soil and all other things you could need for gardening, but it was fun to hide away from the sun in there and drink iced tea, talking about whatever came to your minds or solving nanogram puzzles in comfortable silence (or occasional sigh from Eric when he got stuck somewhere in the middle of his crosswords).

Your curiosity gets the best of you when you open the door, deciding to see if it’s still the same inside. Your eyes widen when you notice the garden house a little less packed than before– mainly because Sunwoo’s mother no longer does gardening in her free time and buys her vegetables on the market like your mum does, you presume– but instead, it’s full of all the things the childhood you knew so well.

Sunwoo’s old bike– red and a little rusty, but you bet it could still work. The rug they used to have in their dining room is now in the middle of the little garden house, stained with dirt. Next to the usual red sofa is a leather armchair that they used to have in their living room for a while, the dark brown fabric now worn out, chapped and peeling off. In the corner of the room, you find a box filled with various sports equipment– tennis rackets, a yellow tennis ball, a jumping rope, and lastly, a half-deflated football. The sight of it has you sighing a little, reminding you of Sunwoo’s composure when he told you about how he never got to pursue his childhood dream fully.

Your eyes glaze towards his old skateboard, having you chuckle, the memories of him riding it down the hill in front of his house appearing in your mind. Sometimes, he would be there with his sister and his childhood friend Eric as well (that more often than not let MB!Y/N borrow the board, watching her with lovesick eyes instead of riding it himself), the young boy trying to teach himself tricks he saw on the TV.

“Do you think I still got it?” you suddenly hear Sunwoo ask from behind your shoulder, making you jump in surprise. The male laughs at your shocked face, shaking his head in disbelief at your easily shaken composure.

“You scared me,” you breathe out, clutching your chest for good measure, to show him how much you really mean it– your heart was racing, and contrary to popular belief, the sight of him in casual attire (a gray hoodie, so similar to the one he used to wear in high school, baggy Adidas sweatpants covering his legs) wasn’t the reason for the little heart attack.

“So did you!” he exclaims. “I got outside and didn’t see you there, I thought you ran away for a second,” he hums.

“As if,” you mumble, “I walked all the way here, why would I leave so suddenly?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs, “you could’ve changed your mind, or something,” he says, his composure suddenly as boyish as when he was just a teenager, something in your heart softening. You guess he sometimes still carries some of the same insecurities he tried so hard to mask when he was young. Some things don’t really change, but you really wish at least this would’ve.

Smiling at him, you shake your head. “I don’t think you still got it, though,” you go back to reply to his initial question, pointing towards the skateboard.

“Well, who knows,” he peeps, “maybe I could do an Ollie, or something.”

“I really don’t think you could, Sunwoo,” you laugh softly, watching him regain his statement competitiveness.

“Wanna bet?”

“No,” you shake your head, “I don’t want you to break your bones, so let’s just say I believe you,” you giggle, watching as the boy mirrors your expression, his gaze softening.

A short moment of silence overtakes you two as you sigh and look around the garden house, instinctively taking a seat on the red sofa covered in dust. You bet it’s been years since anyone’s sat on it, and you’re glad to be the one revisiting its comfort. It’s like solidifying your return– like the old piece of forgotten furniture in Sunwoo’s garden house is the spawn point of your childhood. “Doesn’t this make you nostalgic?” you ask, eyeing your companion.

“Well, I live here,” he shrugs, “so not as much as it makes you, I suppose. Having you here again makes it more nostalgic, though, I’ll give you that.”

His words have you overcome with something bittersweet. Seeing the town you love so much makes you almost regret you ever left. The rational side of your brain reminds you that you gained a lot of experience abroad, though, and so you settle with being just a little bit remorseful of your past self for being so overly-ambitious.

“It’s weird,” you allow yourself to be vulnerable in front of him, the essence of him being your best friend– your first love, the first person you ever felt safe with– overtaking you in the moment of weakness, “it’s like everybody moved on, but I stayed here.”

“Well, not everybody moved on,” Sunwoo hums, referring to himself. “Juyeon stayed, too. Eric and MB!Y/N are moving only a few hours away… Haknyeon lives down the street now,” he points out, a poor attempt at making you feel better.

“Yeah… it’s just… I hoped I would do big things. I hoped we would both do big things,” you say, tone of voice quiet, your eyes avoiding him. It’s hard to keep eye contact with him when you share your struggles– at least that’s the way it always was when you were young. The look he offered you always made you feel so tender, so cared for that you wanted to burst out crying. In your age and state, you can’t afford to tear up in front of your ex-boyfriend anymore.

“Sometimes, things don’t work out the way we want them to,” Sunwoo says, tone of voice considerate. “And that’s fine. I wanted to be a star, and I’m not, but that’s okay, because hey… I’m happy anyway. I’m content. And I know that one day, you’ll be too. It just takes a bit of time.”

Snickering, you play with your fingers in your lap, legs plopping up and crossed, striking an almost defensive pose. “Were you… were you embarrassed when you came back?” you ask.

Sunwoo laughs, the sound so heartfelt it makes your insides squeeze. “Terribly. I mean, look at me in my mid-twenties, still living with my mother. Even back then, I felt like a failure. I felt like a disappointment, but… then I realized not everyone had the opportunities I had. Not everyone almost made it professional, you know, and that’s still something to be proud of.”

“I’m still living with my mother, but hey– she’s getting older and the house is big. MB!Y/N moved out, and I wouldn’t want my mum to get lonely… so I think I’m doing pretty well, given the circumstances,” he says. Pausing for a heartbeat, as if collecting his thoughts, he continues. “I think you should find the positives in your situation too. Not everyone got to live in New York... Work for the national TV… That’s still a huge achievement, and I think you should be proud of yourself for that.”

Rolling your eyes– although grateful to hear the words– you snicker. “It’s hard to do that right now…”

“I know,” he nods, smiling when you finally look at him. “It takes time. And until then, well, for what it’s worth, I’m really proud of you. And maybe… maybe you coming back home is how life’s supposed to go anyways.”

Biting down on your lower lip to stop yourself from tearing up– see, you knew you shouldn’t have looked the boy in the eyes during his little pep talk– there’s suddenly a weight leaving your shoulders, heart softening and growing more tender. Your wounds seem to sting a little less. It’s strange– even after so many years, he still knows just the words you need to hear.

“Yeah,” you nod, voice barely louder than a whisper, a soft smile playing with your lips, “maybe.”

to. my first kiss

March 2000

His eyes stay glued to the TV in your living room, the boy almost looking hypnotized as he focuses on the program running, furrowed brows and all, showing his utmost concentration. A sigh lands into his ears, but goes unnoticed when you enter the room, a scowl sitting on your face. “Sunwoo! I told you to watch the oven! What if the cookies burn?”

“Yeah…” he mumbles, not a single word coming out of your mouth truly registering in his brain.

“Sunwoo!” you grunt, but when you get no reply, you just choose to roll your eyes and walk into your kitchen yourself, opening the oven and making sure the cookies you two have been baking haven’t burned down into coal yet. Not long after, you plop on the sofa next to your best friend, tone of voice still showing a bit of frustration at his carelessness.

“You shit on Eric for watching those, but you’re just as bad,” you hum as you notice the kdrama going on in the TV. It’s one of the ones that hardly make any sense and each scene is overly-exaggerated and repeated at least twice to create impact, but Sunwoo finds himself living for the drama. Each argument has him examining the scene, mentally rooting for his favorite characters– and although he is busy with football practice nowadays, he doesn’t skip a single episode of Happy Together.

It’s not as entertaining as the manga comics he borrows from Hyunjae’s father’s comic shop, but he figures that it’s good enough to pass some time… and indulge over.

“I think they’re gonna kiss,” he notes, pointing towards the screen.

“Oh, good point, Sherlock Holmes,” you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief. If there was something you’d expect out of your friend, it seemingly wasn’t his enjoyance of cheesy dramas that air in the afternoon hours of the week.

And Sunwoo admits, he was never the one to enjoy romance. Hell, it was something he always made fun of when it came to his friend Eric– he was not the one to watch romantic comedies, he wasn’t the one to tell girls cheesy lines or bring them flowers on Valentine’s day. He does seem to be enjoying the laughable scenes rolling on the TV a little too much lately, though.

Maybe he should start hanging out with Eric less.

The scene slowly transforms into close-ups of the two main characters, showing them instinctively closing their eyes and leaning towards each other, eyes trained on each other’s lips. It doesn’t take much to predict the next actions, but Sunwoo still finds himself restless in his seat when they finally kiss, legs kicking up and a gasp escaping his mouth. One would think he won the lottery or was just greeted with the greatest surprise ever, with how he’s reacting. None of the two are true, though.

“Oh, wow,” you hum next to him, seemingly not really interested in the drama as much as your best friend is.

“You’re ruining it,” Sunwoo sighs, looking at you as you roll your eyes and settle deeper into the couch cushions.

“Oh, sorry,” you note, but your composure stays a bit annoyed.

Sunwoo watches the TV for some more– the scene of the two characters kissing stays on the screen, slowed-down and repeated, in the true 90s TV show fashion– before his eyes trail off the device and move towards you, glazing your side profile. He takes notice of your casual attire– you changed out of your school uniform in the time he was supposed to watch the cookies baking in the oven, and something in his stomach churns, making him blurt out the random question that so suddenly appears on the tip of his tongue.

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” he asks, genuinely curious. He doesn’t even know why the response matters to him so much– he also doesn’t really know what reply he’d like to hear better, if he’s being honest– but now it’s out in the open and he can’t take it back.

“Hm?” you hum, snapping your head towards him. “Oh. Yeah, I guess…”

“You guess..?” Sunwoo repeats, furrowing his brows. How can one not be sure?

“Well– yeah. It only happened once, though,” you shrug. It takes everything in Sunwoo to not ask who you kissed and when, or under what circumstances, and decide to despise that person until the day he dies. It’s not his business and he shouldn’t even care in the first place… He can’t say he’s disappointed in your answer– it’s your life and your decisions– but something inside of him screams that now, he can’t be your first no matter how hard he’d try. (It’s not like you’d want to kiss Sunwoo anyway, so he really doesn’t know why he’s making such a big deal about it.)

“What about you?” you ask, the question catching the poor boy off guard. He didn’t necessarily expect you to ask him back– so much to his title of Sherlock Holmes– and the reality that he can’t lie to you takes him out in full force as he bashfully stares out of the window.

“No,” he peeps, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

There’s something embarrassing about admitting to the girl you like that even at the ripe age of 19, you’ve never kissed anyone before. Shame creeps up his neck and adorns his cheeks after the simple word slips out of his mouth, eyes refusing to meet yours.

“Really?” you ask, and you sound genuinely surprised– there’s a hint of Sunwoo’s ego recovering, but he thinks the hit was too hard for him to ever recover.

“Yup,” he says, a popping sound heard as his lips voice out the last consonant, the view of him playing with his own fingers suddenly more interesting than anything else happening in your living room right at this moment.

“I thought– nevermind,” you hum, scratching the back of your neck, “why are you asking?”

“Just… just curious, I guess…?” he stummers, shrugging.

A moment of silence overtakes you two– enough to make the boy instantly hate everything he’s ever said on the matter. If there could open up a hole in the ground right now to swallow him, he’d jump in with much enthusiasm. Why did he have to ask?

“Do you wanna try?” you suddenly propose, making the boy’s heart feel like it burst and threw him into a cardiac arrest. His hands start sweating, his cheeks tint red and it feels like all oxygen was suddenly sucked out of the living room, his lungs collapsing on themselves.

You seem to try to save the situation, noticing the utter shock on his face. “I mean– you don’t have to, but I… I wouldn’t mind, and it’s– I don’t know… if you wanted to practice with me, or something, I’d be down to…” you stutter, chewing on your bottom lip as you finish the little tangent, terror evident in your eyes.

Sunwoo feels like a little boy that just found his favorite gift under the Christmas tree. Like he found the most pricey toy there, the one he always wanted, and now that it’s there, he’s scared to actually play with it, because he doesn’t want to break it. Much like your friendship, he thinks. There’s too much to lose if he crosses this line, and he’s very much aware.

But the offer seems tempting. Almost too tempting. God, he doesn’t think he could say no.

He may not be your first kiss, but you’re asking to be his. This sounds like a dream, if he really thinks about it.

“You know what? Just forget–”

“I’d– I’d like that…” he mumbles, trying really hard not to avert his gaze from you.

Your gaze softens, nodding your head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“Okay,” you nod again, moving a little closer to him. Your knees knock into the side of his thigh, your whole figure now facing him on the sofa as his legs still point forward to the TV. He keeps staring at you, a little nervous, but expectant. “Are you sure? You don’t have to do it just because–”

“I’m sure,” he cuts you off, watching as your face relaxes, a smile appearing on your lips at the next addition. “I want to.”

“Okay.”

You move impossibly closer, your crossed legs in contact with his clothed skin. He curses the thin fabric of the pants of his school uniform for making him feel every slightest flex of your muscles when you move, making his skin flare up and burn. He keeps staring at you, watching you as you lean closer to him, your faces now inches away from each other. Sunwoo finds himself focusing on every feature of your face, counting the eyelashes framing your eyes, glazing over the sparkles in your orbs. You stay close for a minute, unmoving.

Eyes locking, Sunwoo finds himself gasping a little, breathing shuddering when he notices your gaze falling to his lips. Your breathing mixes, air meeting his face when you breathe out a minty breeze. His heart is already racing and you’re not even doing anything.

When he finds you finally moving towards him and notices your eyes shutting close, he mirrors your actions, but stays unmoving. After what feels like eternity, he feels something soft pressing to his lips, warmth spreading from that part of his face to the rest of his body. The contact of your lips with his is gentle, like you’re testing the waters, and although the feeling is unfamiliar, Sunwoo decides he doesn’t hate it.

The weird firework show in his stomach actually suggests that he’s quite enjoying it. Your lips break away from his for a bit, rewarding him with only a peck, and before the boy has the chance to think this is it and it’s over, you dive in for more and kiss him again, this time longer, more firmer.

Your hands come up to cradle his cheeks, holding him close. He feels himself burning up, his composure completely crumbling when he feels you smile against his lips.

“You know you can kiss back, right?”

“Mhm,” he hums, opening his eyes to see you staring at him with a tender look.

“Try it,” you say, hands gently coming up to brush his bangs away from his face. If anyone was looking at the two of you now, Sunwoo thinks they’d conclude that you two were in love.

And maybe Sunwoo was, by the way he was looking up at you like you hung the stars on the sky. By the way he was staring at you with such a vulnerable look he feared you might see right through him, see right to his core and call him out on every unconfessed word hiding in his heart. He looks a little scared, a little tense, still, but his eyes don’t lie. They never do. There’s no one else that could make him feel the way you do.

“Okay,” he nods, moving in his position so he’s facing you, ready for more.

He mirrors your previous motions, leaning towards your face. He wets his lips and closes his eyes when he’s sure he’s close enough to not miss your mouth, and after another deep breath in to calm his nerves, he presses against you. He feels you freezing under him, a momentary panic spreading all over his chest as he thinks he’s done something wrong, before he feels you kissing him back.

A whole other sensation takes over him when he feels your lips moving against his, his fingertips buzzing when he drags his hand up and moves your hair behind your shoulder, large hand resting on your jaw. He’s not sure if he’s doing this correctly– hell, he’s never done this before– but after you move a bit and entangle your hands behind his neck, pressing against him a bit more firmly, yet still tender and gentle like the first time, he recognises that somehow, it feels right, and he thinks that’s all evaluation he needs for now.

The need for oxygen makes him break away from you, breathing heavily as he opens his eyes and finds you resting your forehead against his, smiling. “Like that?” he asks, shamelessly staring at your wet lips, already yearning for more.

“Something like that,” you nod, giggling. “You still need more practice, though,” you suggest, making the boy frown.

“Was it that ba–”

Rolling your eyes at him, frustrated at the way he always needs everything spelled out for him, refusing to take a hint, you press your lips against his again, teeth clashing a little when Sunwoo picks up the pace and kisses you back. The TV is a mere white noise in the background now, everything around you two disappearing, all of Sunwoo’s senses focused on you and only you. He could get lost in the way you taste– like strawberry bubblegum you bought at the store on the corner of the street– and the way you feel against him– soft, tender, warm.

He feels like he could burst. He knows his hands are a bit sweaty, but he’s only half aware of the fact when his palms move to hold your cheeks, much like you did to him before, and your hands entangle in his hair, playing with the strands.

He could stay like this forever, blissfully unaware of the consequences of this act. He could kiss you over and over and over again, even if it meant he was still bad at it and needed more practice– he could get lost in your scent, in the tender way you hold him to you, in the way you keep smiling against his lips whenever he does something to surprise you: like get a little bolder and angle your head by your chin with his thumb, getting more comfortable.

He’s glad he’s sitting down, because he’s quite sure his knees are too weak to carry him right now. When you break away from him again, lips swollen and eyes blown-out, he thinks you might just be an angel. He’d love to engrave this image into his memories forever.

Although, he’s doubtful that he could ever forget about this. Or anything about you, really.

And even as you suddenly gasp, finally aware of the world around you, running to the kitchen and screaming: “Sunwoo! We forgot about the cookies!”,

he wonders just what more you could teach him about life. He’d follow you to the end of the world if you asked him to, holding your hand in his and not thinking twice. He’d bring you down a star, if you only so expressed you would like one. He’d do anything.

You taught him what friendship is. You taught him what it means to care for someone. What it means to have someone special. You taught him how to drink (although by scolding him when he was hungover. He felt cared for even with your stern gaze). You taught him how to slow dance– even though you spent the prom with someone else. Just now, you taught him how to kiss.

And although you’re unaware, he’s quite certain that when he’s 19 years old, spending each of his days with you, although unaware, you taught him how to love someone too.

August 2007

You feel kind of silly, standing in front of the bakery as the sun sets over the horizon, the clock striking near 5 in the afternoon as you gnaw on your fingernails and hesitate a little before coming in. Pushing the door open and slipping inside, the male currently sweeping the floor looks over at you, a look of pleasant surprise sitting at his face and a sunny smile sent your way upon your arrival.

You don’t really know why you keep running back to him. The whole town reeks of familiarity to you, every corner and inch of each street filled with the essence of your childhood and your whole growing up. It’s not like you don’t have anything else to ground yourself back to, but somehow, your inner voice always keeps calling for Sunwoo. It’s weird– it’s been ages and you shouldn’t feel like this around someone who you haven’t even properly dated for that long, if you don’t count the few months before he left– but it’s something you can’t control, an essence you can’t hold back.

“Y/N,” he calls for you, “what are you doing here?” he asks as he continues his routinal cleaning, putting the broom away behind the counter.

It’s a stupid question. You bet he realizes it too, but you’re somehow glad he is taking initiative. This way, you don’t have to be the first one to spark the conversation. This way, you know you’re welcome.

“Oh, well,” you shrug, “I’m… looking for you…?” you say, tone of voice suggesting that you’re hesitant, almost a little shy to admit it to yourself.

Maybe you’re foolish for feeling this way. Because you know what all those things mean– you know what the lightness in your stomach is, what the giddy feeling resonating through you whenever the male smiles at you is. You know that thinking about someone constantly, more so before you sleep, isn’t an usual occurrence with someone you pay no attention to, with someone you don’t care about. You’ve been in love before– with the same man that’s standing right in front of you as well, funnily enough. You know what this all means.

But with how he’s inviting you in, letting you into his little bubble, you think it’s not as bad of a thing. He’s not pushing you away. He’s not building bridges. He’s the same way he was all those years ago, and you’d hate to find out that all of this wasn’t something more and was just him being nice.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” he chuckles, wiping his hands on the apron still tied around his waist. “I’m off in a few, though, so if you want anything from the bakery–”

“I’m not here for the food,” you laugh, dismissing him with a wave of your hand. The boldness is unusual for the present you– there’s a hint of your past shining through whenever you are with the boy, though. Maybe you like this sense of familiarity. Maybe you like to feel real again– maybe you like to feel like yourself. It’s hard to admit it, but you did lose your sense of identity after moving abroad. It’s hard to stay true to yourself with so many new people around and with so many expectations and responsibilities. The pressure changes you, and you now rely on Kim Sunwoo to bring you back to default– to where you’re supposed to be.

“Okay, then,” he nods, thankfully not making a big deal out of your desperate visit, “what would you like to do?” he asks, eyes sparkling under the lights when he looks at you. It’s like an open invitation– he gives you the chance to tell him how you’d like to spend your time with him. He did this a lot when you two were younger as well. It felt good to have someone that would make the effort to enjoy your hobbies with you– no matter how disinterested he could be in the matter.

“Hang out… I guess…?” you hum, shrugging. You didn’t really have anything planned. All you knew was that you wanted to be with him. It’s like the heart’s calling– you don’t know when your inner monologue got so cliche.

“Anything specific?” he asks.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shake your head in disapproval. You fear that you disappointed him, let him down in some way– you came all the way here, after all. You could’ve made something up on the way, couldn’t you? But still– just like the Sunwoo you once knew, so lively and full of ideas– he just purses his lips for a second before speaking the suggestion into existence.

“Well… do you want to bake with me? Like the old times?” he says, sending you a look full of warm honey.

You wouldn’t say no to that invitation. You’d be crazy to do so.

The Kim Sunwoo you used to bake cookies with in the comfort of your kitchen back home wasn’t so skilled in making the dough like he is now. He wasn’t so good at knowing the recipe from memory, nor was he gifted with the kitchen appliances he has now, all professional and shiny, reserved just for the use of the bakery. You don’t really know if he even had the love for baking in him back then– you just know you two enjoyed your time together, and when you are young, that’s all you really cared about anyway. It didn’t matter that he let the cookies burn sometimes. It didn’t really matter that they didn’t turn out well on some days– all morphing into one big block, making you cut the dough into pieces so you could eat it when you accidentally added too much butter.

He still looks the same, though. A few years older, but with the same boyish aura to him when he wipes dirty hands on his apron. All grown up now, but still with the same glint in his eye whenever he looks up at you in between your conversations. When you’re with him, you no longer feel the distance between who you are and who you used to be, the distance between you and him. It’s like the old days, but a little better.

Maybe you have more time now.

The two of you work on the cookie dough, enveloped in a comfortable conversation. “You have to add more sugar,” Sunwoo hums from next to you, watching as you work on the mixture.

“Isn’t it funny how I was the one always giving you directions when we baked together and now you’re the one ordering me around?” you laugh, taking the sugar from the counter and sprinkling more in, listening to the opinion of a professional.

“Well, my cookies don’t turn into one big blob of dough anymore,” he jokes, laughing. “Besides, it’s my job now, so you’d kind of expect me to be good at it.”

“You can’t be so sure of that…” you hum, shaking your head.

“Why? Do you have any experience with being bad at your job?”

“Oh you bet I do,” you laugh, nodding. “I was an intern before, Sunwoo. A colleague of mine once tried to console me by saying being an intern means being bad at the job, so it wasn’t that big of a deal, but I still cried myself to sleep multiple nights,” you conclude, thinking back to your New York endeavors.

“That bad?” Sunwoo asks empathetically.

“Yeah. Mixed up everyone’s coffee order on my first day. When I was confronted about it, I tried to play it off by saying I don’t have a good memory…” you muse.

“Well, it’s hard to remember a lot of stuff at once, to be fair–”

“I was getting coffee for three people, Sunwoo. Objectively speaking, it shouldn’t be as hard…” you say, now thinking back to the events of your internship with more humor than embarrassment.

Sunwoo laughs at your story, shaking his head in disbelief. “Not worse than my teammate back in Boston. The first match of the season, he scored a goal against our own team. His reasoning? He used to play against the goalie back in high school, so he got confused.”

The boy takes over at making the dough once it’s the turn to add in the chocolate chips, glancing at you momentarily when you laugh at his anecdote. Watching him from the side, you heave out through your laughs. “That’s actually hilarious,” you get out, washing your hands in the sink. “What about some funny stories about yourself, though?”

“Don’t have any. I’m too perfect to humiliate myself like that,” he notes, pressing his lips together and raising his eyebrows at you in an ironic expression, nodding.

“Oh, as if–”

“How is it?” he asks you suddenly in the middle of the sentence, seemingly done with kneading the mixture. Sunwoo puts the cookie dough in front of your lips, waiting for you to taste it. You’d do it all the time when you were both teenagers, but back then, the gesture didn’t feel half as intimate as the mere image of it does now.

Locking eyes with the male, you hesitantly open your mouth and let him put the dough into it, tasting the sweetness on your tongue. Sunwoo’s eyes darken, as if he’s just realized what he’s done, the weight of the situation falling down on him as your tongue comes in contact with the skin of his fingertips. Gulping, he watches as you suck the tip of his digit into your mouth, getting all last remains of the sweetness off of it, something in the air shifting towards a direction you didn’t expect from tonight.

“Good,” you nod, licking your lips, “delicious.”

Seconds turn to what feels like eternities as you stop all motion and look into each other’s eyes, finding any hint of disapproval with the so obvious turn of events. His chocolate orbs peer into yours, making you ignite with something close to an urge you can’t control, his eyes anchoring themselves to the curve of your lips when you decide to let go of all anxiety and insecurities and just go for it. The cookie dough was sweet, but you’ve never tasted anything sweeter than Sunwoo’s lips. You might just have to refresh your mind, you think.

Leaning closer to him, your breathing mixing in the few centimeters left between your mouths, you relish in the déja vu this action brings you. It feels like yesterday, yet also centuries ago since you last kissed the male, and although you’re sure you enjoyed it back then, you wish you could’ve told the younger you to kiss him more often, more firmly, with more passion, maybe even sooner. For longer.

Pressing your lips against his first, almost like always– since Kim Sunwoo was a bit shy with his kisses when you were both just high school seniors– your eyes shut close and everything around you disappears. You guess there’s something about baking that makes the two of you want to feed off each other’s lips– except this time, it’s not practice anymore. It’s not innocent, it’s not clueless. This time, it’s real, alive and passionate. You can’t say you hate the sentiment, the weird parallel your relationship has come to. It’s like you’re reliving your life again, but this time, you know how the story ends– you know how to fix the ending. How to keep him here.

Sunwoo’s more experienced than he was when you kissed him for the first time. He’s less shy and more bold, lips firmer against yours, but still careful and gentle. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw and position you so he has the best access to your mouth as he slips his tongue in, as if chasing down the taste of cookie dough he fed you just a few seconds ago, and although you liked to battle him when you were young, you let him win this time– you let him take you home, bring your mind to where it’s supposed to be.

Hands gripping the front of his shirt, but immediately going to circle around his neck when a particular movement of his makes you moan slightly into his mouth, you play with the hair on his nape and feel him shuddering under your movements, an automatic response that makes fondness spread over your chest. Everything about him is familiar to you– he still reacts the same way to your tender ministrations, he still smiles against your lips when you tangle your fingers through his hair and want to ground yourself in the touch.

You know him like the palm of your hand. It’s easy to get lost in something you are so familiar with, in someone that was once your everything. It’s easy to indulge too much in something that was forcefully taken from you, to get right back where you left with him, because time and circumstances were never on your side.

A touch of his hand on the side of your neck, lips trailing down your mouth towards your jaw. The boldness, the urgency of his movements is enough to have you turn your back against the counter, his body pressed tightly against yours. His palms under the backside of your knees have you sitting up on the cold marble, his lips never breaking away from your skin.

You’re enjoying the shift in the dynamic. You’re enchanted with the way he handles you, like he’s been starved of you for years, wanting to chase down all the time you spent away from each other. Breathing heavily, feeling his plush lips sucking down on the sweet spot under your ear, then trailing down the side until he reaches the juncture of your neck, an involuntary “God…” slips past your mouth.

“I missed you,” he says, words muffling against your skin, “I missed you so much, I felt like I was going crazy.”

The confession makes you dizzy, your whole body growing weak. It’s like he knows exactly what words you wanted to hear. It’s like he knows what haunted you all those years, what you kept asking the universe on sleepless nights over and over, praying for an answer. It’s like he knows exactly how to get you close to him, to have you completely let go of the past.

“I missed your jokes,” he says, planting a kiss on your neck. “I missed your smile,” he presses another one a little more up, “I missed your laugh,” another kiss, now on your jaw. “I missed holding your hand,” a peck planted to the corner of your lips, “and I missed kissing you…” he trails off, pointing his attention back on your mouth, locking the two of you together again, as if kissing you was his new addiction and you were the drug.

Sunwoo’s hot hand creeps up your waist, fingers slipping under the thin fabric of your tank top. The contact makes you shiver in response, your bodies still as responsive to each other as back when you were 19, and when you tug at his bottom lip with your teeth and slip your tongue back into his mouth, you feel the boy tug at the right strap of your top, sliding it down your shoulder. You’re barely registering the bowl of dough to your right, the fact that you’re in the kitchen of Juyeon’s parent’s bakery, or the fact that you only just met the boy two weeks ago for the first time in years. All you focus on is him– his touch, his taste, the way he makes you feel. All you know is longing. The desire.

Before you have the chance to take anything further, the sound of the door opening makes you jump away from each other– your head almost hitting the top cabinets, had Sunwoo not instinctively put his hand there to shield you from the impact. Before you get a chance to register what’s happening, a familiar voice calls for you, their tone a little guilty and bashful.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt, or anything–” Juyeon peeps, clearing his throat.

Glancing at Sunwoo, you see his cheeks redden at being caught by his older friend, yet his eyes still roll in annoyance at the interruption. You can’t help but try to hide your face into his shoulder– it’s not like you’re embarrassed of being with Sunwoo, you’re just embarrassed that it had to happen here, of all places.

“Well, you just did,” Sunwoo grunts, frustration coating his words.

“I’m just here to grab something,” Juyeon hums, almost racing through the room to get to the fridge on the other side of the kitchen, taking out a carton of milk from the inside and showing it to the two of you. “This is gonna go bad soon, so I’m taking it home to use it. Uhm.. anyways, well, don’t let me stop you in anything�� bye!”

Neither of you greet the male back, instead sharing a meaningful, knowing look between each other. The view of your first boyfriend with his lips puffy, cheeks flushed and hair a little disheveled makes your senses go crazy, and although you’d like to continue what you started, you don’t think now is the right time or place.

Hopping off the counter, you smile. “So… where were we with the cookies?”

to. my first girlfriend

May 2000

Eyes trained on the ball, feet restless as he runs across the field to retrieve it and pass it to one of the shooters– either Donghyuck or Jinyoung, the more capable ones of the team– Sunwoo finds himself completely focused on the game. It’s one of the last matches of the season, and since he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to play his favorite sport again– he hasn’t received a verdict on the university applications he sent yet– the boy figures he should enjoy each game like it’s the last. Because who knows– one day, it may as well be, and if he’s not prepared for it, if he has any regrets, he knows he’ll take it harder than he’s supposed to.

Kim Sunwoo’s position in football is midfielder. While Eric once told him that it’s a loser position, since he’s not the shooter and he doesn’t score many goals (which is a lie– the boy had him know he scored his fair share despite his defensive position on the field), Sunwoo’s grown to love it. He’s the one that’s supposed to counter all attacks on his teammates. He’s the one that runs after the ball and passes it to the shooters, so technically, he’s the reason why any of them even have the opportunity to score. His position is as important as any other player's, and he takes pride in the compliments he gets from his coach whenever he does particularly well at a game.

Sunwoo loves football. He’d say his first love is football, but something inside of him keeps telling him that that’s a lie (don’t ask him why. It’s a secret.). It’s the first game he’s ever been exceptionally good at, the first thing he could do for periods longer than a few weeks. He’s been playing with the ball since he was young, and although he never had a father to kick the football around with in his backyard, his sister was always happy to be included in anything he was into at the time– when she got older, she even got better at being his designated goalie, although less interested in the play itself. Sunwoo feels like he lets go of all worries when he plays. It’s good to have an escape, something to keep his mind occupied. He doesn’t have many things to worry about, but he finds that kicking the ball around, making strategies in his brain on how to get it to his teammates the fastest, is enough for him to get out both his frustration and get something nice out of it. He enjoys the thrill. He enjoys the excitement, the shared joy of the team whenever someone scores a goal. He is addicted to the ecstasy in his veins whenever his team wins.

It was easy to determine that if Sunwoo wanted to do anything for the rest of his life, it would be football. It’s what he enjoys, what he loves. It’s what he’s good at.

It’s strange to imagine a time when he wouldn’t play football. He doesn’t even want to imagine it in the first place– it makes a chill run down his spine and an unsettling feeling churn in his stomach. In a perfect world, he’s always a football player.

Everyone keeps telling him he could easily make it professional, if he tried.

Football is how he met most of his friends. It’s how he met Juyeon– he was the captain of the high school team when Sunwoo was a sophomore, and he found that hanging out with the older boy was easy and fun. It’s how he met Donghyuck and Jihoon (before the latter dropped out of the team after a few months). It’s how he met you.

His coach always warned the players about dating the cheerleaders. For his coach, it wasn’t right to do so– it would throw off the dynamic of the game. “Nobody wants their ex to stare at them during their game!” the coach had said– not even thinking of the possibility of any of those teenage romances to last. Sunwoo only laughed back then. It wasn’t something he should be afraid of– he never liked anyone on the cheer team.

Until… until he did. Sunwoo met you on one sunny day, at your joint cheer-slash-football practice. You pointed out that the number on his jersey– 03– was your favorite, and the boy felt himself smile. Ever since then, he never wore any other number. He considered it to be his lucky charm. What started as friendship blossomed into something much more for the boy, and somehow, he can’t even remember when the feelings he had for you morphed into adoration. He doesn’t know when they shifted Into absolute enchantment, or Into a silly crush– he doesn’t know when he started seeing you in a light that was more romantic.

Wearing your favorite number on his back, Sunwoo runs towards the opposing player. There’s something akin to an angry face playing with the man’s features, and Sunwoo imagines it’s because of the very clear lead his team has on them. Sunwoo makes sure he doesn’t slip as he tackles the opposing player– he swears he heard someone call the shooter Jaechan– and as soon as he secures the ball, Sunwoo aims to forward it to his teammate.

The screams resonating all around him– although he tries hard to filter them out to focus on the game completely– suggest that it’s only a few moments before the game is over. It wouldn’t matter even if they didn’t score the goal, but something inside of Sunwoo’s heart leaps at the thought of winning with such a lead. The boyish excitement only grows when he watches Donghyuck retrieve the goal and run towards the goalpost, neon-orange sneakers shining through the green grass.

“Come on!” Sunwoo cheers, a hopeful spark lighting within him as the boy prepares to shoot, eyes quickly scanning the field.

And Lee Donghyuck almost never lets him down. Maybe that’s why he liked the boy so much in the first place– Sunwoo didn’t like players that dismissed the chance he won for them. He liked the skillful ones. The ones that knew what they were doing. (He also liked Donghyuck’s humor. He found himself grateful to have a friend so funny. He made even losing feel like it wasn’t such a big deal.)

Choosing the golden shooter proved to be a good idea once again– Donghyuck, number 35, shoots for the goal and the ball gets in. Seconds after, the sound of a whistle is heard across the place, the game over with Sunwoo’s team winning 4:1.

Everyone cheers– yells from the audience are heard, excitement reeking through the air. The whole football team gathers around, sweaty bodies sticking together as they perform some sort of a cliche group hug, arms patting each other’s backs and complimenting each other’s play.

The commotion dissolves shortly after. Sunwoo finds himself trying to catch his breath, eyes looking across the space for someone in particular. His heart leaps even harder when he finds you standing at the edge of the field in your cheer uniform, a big smile plastered on your face. Your eyes are glimmering as they meet with his. Your hair is a little tousled from the routine you just finished doing and there are smears and smudges on your cheeks from the face paint you used to symbolize the team’s colors– blue and gold. Over-all, you look ecstatic.

Sunwoo finds himself running over to you before he even registers that he’s going to do it. He’s like a fast, unguided missile, the goal of getting to you as fast as possible being the only thing resonating through his excited mind.

“Good jo-” you grunt as the boy finally gets to you, words cutting off when he (maybe a little harshly) puts his arms around your middle and picks you up, twirling you around. You screech a little into his ear and he finds himself laughing at your reaction. It’s like a runner's high– he feels like right now, he is capable of everything.

“Okay! Okay! Put me down!” you laugh when you start to get a little dizzy. The boy complies, since he’s running out of strength to carry you anyways, and puts you back to your feet. His arms stay tightly wrapped around your body, though, locking you into a secure hug.

“We won!” he cheers, the brightest grin settling to his lips as he announces the obvious.

You beam at him, eyes soft and crinckled into little moon crescents, a dumbfounded smile playing with your features. “I know, Sherlock,” you dismiss him again with the teasing nickname, shaking your head in disbelief, “I was here. Cheering for you,” you say.

And sure, Sunwoo knows that by you, you don’t necessarily mean him in particular– more like cheering for the whole team, the whole 11 players on the field– but something about the sentiment makes his stomach feel all light and a slight blush spread over his glowing cheeks. You were here– cheering for him (and his team) – and although you’re here out of your own will, out of your own devotion to your hobby, he somehow feels grateful for your presence. You never miss a game. You went even when you caught the flu and felt too sick to do your cheer routine– you just sat on the bench and rooted for your best friend. (The team lost that match. Sunwoo felt a little bad for tugging you out of your bed for it.)

The boy studies your face for a while. You look perfectly content in his hold. You fit perfectly into his arms, he thinks– almost like you’re supposed to be there all the time. He should hug you more often, he decides. Sunwoo foolishly finds himself focusing onto your lips– he blames the shiny lipgloss you put on today– the words coming out of your mouth not quite registering in his brain. “As I was saying, good job! The whole team, but you especially. Don’t tell anyone, but I think you really shined in this game. I’m really prou–”

A single peck is pressed to your glossy, sticky lips, cutting you off in the middle of the sentence yet again. Sunwoo surprises himself with the gesture– he was always too shy to initiate something with you, too hesitant to even touch you sometimes– but the euphoria is still playing with his senses, clouding his brain. He doesn’t think of consequences.

He can’t control himself anymore. It’s been weeks since you two kissed for the first time– exactly 4 and a half weeks since you taught him how to do so– and since that afternoon, he found himself thinking about it every single day, every single minute, all. The. Time. You two haven’t spoken about it since, making the poor boy a little disappointed, but he respected your decision. He knew that you didn’t particularly reciprocate his feelings, but he still expected your dynamic to shift. At least a little bit.

And although he should’ve been glad nothing changed and your friendship didn’t crumble because of a simple kiss, he found himself desiring to kiss you every time he saw your face.

You peer at him with eyes wide open, mouth a little agape. Sunwoo doesn’t really know how to read your reaction– you didn’t look particularly happy, but you also didn’t push him away– and so in the moment of panic, he begins to backtrack, his arms untangling from your sides.

“I- I’m sorry if I overstepped any boundary, or if I–”

You’re not fans of letting each other finish their sentences today, it seems. Before Sunwoo gets a chance to put a bigger distance between the two of you, he watches as you get on your tippy-toes and press a tender kiss on his lips– more firmer than the one he dared to give you, a little bit longer, yet still sweetly short. There’s something soft and gentle in your gaze when you pull away and press another peck onto his face– the tip of his nose this time– and Sunwoo almost physically feels his knees turning into jello, his own celebratory firework show erupting in the pits of his stomach.

“So, as I was saying,” you hum, hugging the boy around his neck, “you did well. You looked good out there,” you peep, the sparks in your eyes making Sunwoo’s skin burn with their contact.

That day, you teach him that to be loved is to have someone sharing your achievements with. To be loved is to be adored, to be loved is to have someone watching you and cheering you on, to have someone to run to with good news.

Kim Sunwoo’s football team won the match, but the boy thinks that perhaps, that day, he won something even greater.

to. my first lover

August 2000

The admission papers arrive at his house the morning he’s supposed to sleep over at your house. Your parents decided to take a trip to your aunt’s place for two days, so you invite the boy into the comfort of your home for the weekend– as far as Sunwoo’s mother is concerned, he’s sleeping over at Juyeon’s. He doesn’t have the boy covering him, but he’s also sure his mother won’t try to check if he’s telling her the truth. He’s not banned from having a girlfriend– he just doesn’t want his mum to get any wrong ideas.

He finds the envelope in the mailbox when he comes home from school, and something in his stomach drops when he sees the american stamp on the top right corner of the white paper. He debates on opening it, but every time he hypes himself up enough to tear the top of the envelope off, a little anxious voice on his inside tells him to wait.

Although reluctant to admit it to himself, Sunwoo is a little scared to see the result of his university application. Before he leaves for your house, he puts the envelope into the front pocket of his backpack and tries to forget about it. It works a bit better when he sees your face, hears your laugh– when he spends time with you and you two play the new board game you got from your cousin. Still, the weight of the envelope keeps bugging him in his mind no matter how hard he tries forgetting about it, and you finally notice (or finally bring it up after hours of ignoring his weird mood) when the two of you lay together in your bed in the evening, both facing the ceiling.

“Is everything alright?” you ask.

“Hm?” Sunwoo hums, lost in thought. “Oh, yeah,” he nods, “don’t worry.”

You don’t seem convinced. Shuffling a little in your sheets, you turn towards him and move your body closer to his, your arm suddenly draping over his middle. A tender kiss is placed on his temple, almost making him crumble under the gentle care, and your voice earns a concerned kind of timbre when you speak to him. “You can tell me,” you hum, “boyfriends and girlfriends are supposed to tell each other things.”

Boyfriends and girlfriends. Sunwoo feels himself soften under the possessive title. It has been close to 4 months of you dating– starting with the winning match in April, progressing slowly through the summer break– but the fact that you’re his partner is still a little unbelievable to him. Sometimes, when he hears you call him your boyfriend, he still gets a little bashful. He still feels like he’s been told the greatest news of his life.

Maybe it’s the nature of this sentiment that has him slowly unraveling to you. And maybe, it’s because he’d tell you anyways– you’d be the first to know. He was just waiting for the right time to bring it up.

“The reply to my university application came in the mail this morning…” he trails off, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

You plop up on your elbow, watching the boy from above. Eyes big, you peer into his face. “And?” you ask, an expecting gaze glazing his features.

“I… I don’t know,” he shrugs, “I was too scared to open it alone.”

“O-Oh,” you nod, furrowing your brows at him, “well, it’s okay to be scared. I believe in you, but even if it doesn’t go the way you wanted it to, I’m still proud of you for trying,” you say, a gentle tone of voice cooing at him, like the nature of the way you play with his hair, wanting to make the boy relax from his anxieties.

“I have the letter here with me,” he says, swallowing, “in my bag.”

“Do you want to open it together?” you ask, watching as the boy nods.

He’s getting off the bed in no time, wearing just sweatpants and a baggy shirt to sleep in, grabbing his bag from the corner of your room and unzipping the small compartment at the front. His fingers take the envelope out, legs walking him over back to your bed, your figure now sitting against the headboard. Sunwoo finds himself mirroring your position as his fingers turn the little white thing in his hold with much stumbling, preparing himself for whatever answer awaits him inside.

Glancing at you, seeing you looking at him with an encouraging expression on your face, Sunwoo takes a big breath in and out to calm his nerves before he tears the top open and takes out the expensive-feeling paper. Not stopping his actions anymore, knowing that if he takes another moment to himself, he won’t be able to read the letter, he unravels the note and lets his eyes skim over the words.

Before he even has a chance to register the sentences written down in the letter, before he can even let his mind accept the result he’s given– ‘we are pleased to announce that you were admitted to the athlete scholarship program…’– he feels a pair of arms wrapping around his shoulders, jolting him awake from his thoughts.

“You made it! Oh my god, you made it!” you cheer, excitement taking over your whole body as you shake the boy in your hold from side to side. The reality still isn’t quite settling in for him, so he just lets you do whatever you please– which includes all of the following: screaming incoherent words into his ear when you hug him closer to your chest, planting a kiss to his cheek and throwing your hands up into the air in a winning gesture.

“You made it, Sunwoo,” you repeat, this time a little more collected.

Sunwoo finally allows himself to put the letter away and look into your eyes. “I made it,” he sighs, a soft smile playing with his features.

“You did!” you nod, grinning back.

It’s strange. The first step towards Sunwoo’s dream is now complete. He got admitted to the university of his dreams– the one that’s good for athletes, the one that is supposed to shoot him towards stardom. He has the opportunity to take classes there and train with some of the best aspiring players in the whole world. He has the opportunity to move out of the country, live at dorms in Boston, and most importantly, he has everyone’s support.

There’s nothing more a boy his age could want more. He has everything. His whole life ahead of him, only the brightest future waiting for him at the end– only if he keeps trying hard and improving. He’s happy. Don’t get him wrong– he really is. Somehow, though, it all feels a bit scary.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you excited?” you ask, a pout taking over your once excited features. The amount of worries you have over Sunwoo gets bigger and bigger the older the two of you are. There are only so many things that can go wrong when you are a teenager, but now that you’re adulting, the list keeps getting longer.

“I am,” he nods, forcing a smile onto his lips.

“You don’t seem excited,” you argue.

“I am! I really am,” he says, trying to battle with himself.

“What is it?”

“What is what?”

“Come on, Sunwoo,” you sigh, “I can tell when something’s wrong. You don’t have to hide it from me, because I’ll know anyway. What is it?” you insist, staring the boy down with an examining look.

The boy sighs, shrugging to himself. “Well,” he starts, “the school is in America.”

“And?” you start, furrowing your eyebrows. “We knew that when you applied. Why is it such a problem now?” you ask, genuinely not grasping the whole situation.

Sunwoo chews on his cheek for a little while, plays with his fingers in his lap. A part of him is telling him that he both looks and seems foolish– because you’re right. It was his dream, he is excited, and this is good news. But still, there’s something he didn’t really think of when applying. Well, he did. He just thinks that the fact that him being accepted wasn’t really a realistic idea, no matter how hard he wished and prayed for it, so he didn’t have the need to think about it so seriously back then. Now it’s here, all real, and it’s a struggle he didn’t really grasp that he was going to have to go through.

“Well,” he starts again, still avoiding your eyes, “that means I have to move. And we won’t see each other for a while.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence following his confession– one in which he contemplates all possible reactions you might give him, some with truly catastrophic endings– but after what seems like eternities, he hears your soft, gentle voice. “Is that what’s making you so worried?” you ask.

“Kind of,” he nods, feeling his cheeks redden. You handle him with so much care– sometimes, he doesn’t know how to react.

“Awh,” you coo, taking his hand into yours, preventing him from picking at the skin of his cuticles until they bleed– an action he always does and you keep scolding him for. “Sunwoo, we knew about this when you applied. I am okay with you going away. Sure, it will suck, but it’s only for a little time, and I can come visit you there and you’ll show me around and stuff…”

Sunwoo presses a tight-lipped, hesitant smile to his lips. He feels reassured.

“And we’ll call, and it’s going to be fine, because this is good. This is good news, Sunwoo, and you’re gonna do great, and you’re gonna be a star, and I’ll be so, so proud of you,” you hum, voice tender and caring, doing your best at consoling the boy.

“I’m already so proud of you now, y’know?” you hum, squeezing his hand. “Everything will be alright, so don’t you worry.”

Sunwoo’s arms reach out to envelop you into a hug. He once again recognises how easily you fit into his arms, how perfectly you shape into his skin, and when he burrows his nose into your neck, breathing in your scent, he feels your lips reach into his hair, planting a soft kiss into it. Your words did more to the boy than only consult him– they gave him hope, they gave him joy, they made him feel like perhaps, this is not such a terrifying occurrence. And it really isn’t– it’s quite possibly the best thing that he’s ever achieved, and the circumstances of him leaving don’t seem as horrifying to him now.

As long as he knows that you have his back, he thinks he can do anything. And what’s 3 years abroad against the 4 years he’s known you?

When you pull away, you press your lips against his, the contact making his muscles finally relax and his mind let go of all the worries. There’s suddenly nothing in the world that could make him falter, nothing that could make him worry or stress or fret or change his mind, because he has your support, and you’re here with him, promising him that you’ll always be right by his side, wherever he is.

Your mouth molds against his, the familiar motion of your lips against his still surprising him sometimes, still making him curious even after those months. He’s been dating you for some while, but he still likes to explore what makes you crumble under him, what makes you hum into the kiss, what makes you tug him closer to you– it’s a fun game to him, trying to figure you out completely.

He still has some time, but it’s like he is trying to engrave those moments into his memory before he no longer can experience them first-hand as easily.

He goes out to explore again– his tongue gently inviting itself into your mouth with a swipe of your lower lip, relishing in the way your composure falters a little bit, letting him be in charge. You were always the more experienced one out of you two, so Sunwoo often shied away from being the one dominating intimate situations– afraid he’s not good enough, too inexperienced, too immature for you– but in the rare moments he does take the lead, your reactions give him a new source of confidence.

His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, nose pressing against your cheek as he angles you so he has more access to your lips. Something about his ministrations makes you forget to breathe, breaking away from him in a search for much needed oxygen, but Sunwoo acts like he’s been starved of you, latching his lips to the trail from your mouth towards your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses to your soft skin. He faintly remembers the time you gave him a lovebite that one time you came over to his house to work on homework together, sucking and biting at his neck (and although he enjoyed seeing the possessive bruise on his skin whenever he saw himself in the mirror, he wore the strings of his hoodies tightly tied to his neck, shielding him from being teased by everyone– but mostly Eric). He tries to mirror your motions, recreating the action to the best of his abilities.

He hears you grunt, making him fear that he’s doing it wrong– a momentarily panic settling in his chest screaming at him that he hurt you– but the worries are quickly dismissed as you move impossibly closer to the boy, straddling his lap and threading your fingers through his hair, keeping him close.

Humming under his touch, Sunwoo gets a kick from hearing the sounds coming out of your mouth. It’s like a reward– it’s like the praise he goes after his whole life, like validation of his actions being satisfactory for you. The pressure of your body against his lap makes him feel hot all over, sweaty hands holding you by your sides. Every slightest shift of your figure against his makes him shudder, composure faltering when you move in a way that has his breathing particularly quicken, a bundle of nerves forming in his stomach from the newly found hypersensitivity. There’s only so much fabric shielding the two of you from each other, and just the thought of it is slowly driving the boy crazy.

Pulling away from your neck, admiring the artwork he managed to portray on your skin, he feels you pulling him up to meet your lips again, heated, firm kisses shared in the silence of the room. He feels your hands resting on his abdomen, feeling him up for a moment before you sneak them under the hem of his shirt, dragging your nails against his skin.

Sunwoo hears a sound escape his throat at the contact, making him instantly feel foolish– until he feels you smile against his lips, following your ministrations by mirroring his previous actions and kissing down his neck, finding all the spots that make him the most reactive– like the place under his ear, the juncture of his shoulder. You revisit all the places you’ve tested before and perfected your aim to make him efficiently crumble under you. Sunwoo finds himself losing the initial control he had over the situation, instead letting you take over and lead him, much like you’ve done in most areas of his life. He likes to be your follower. He likes to see where you want him, where you need him, he likes to comply. It’s more comfortable for him this way. It makes him swell with pride when he makes you happy.

Another shift of your hips against him has Sunwoo digging his fingers to your side, whole body feeling like it’s electrified under your touch. Placing a soft peck to the spot you’ve had your attention on, you mumble into his skin. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Sunwoo swallows, noticing you leaning your forehead against his tenderly, eyes meeting.

“Are you sure?”

He nods. He’s never been more sure about anything in his life– he enjoys your company, he loves your touch, the way you make his every sense heighten, his heart beat quicker. Still, he feels a bit nervous at the prospected events. “I just– I’ve never done this before,” Sunwoo whispers the obvious, watching as you carefully observe him.

“Sweetheart,” you tenderly call, placing a soft peck to his lips. “That’s okay. Me neither, but we could… we could try and see where this leads us, if you’d like?”

The sweet pet name alone makes the boy let go of all his worries, of the stress and nerves he’s been holding on to for the past few weeks. You hold him like he’s going to break, and Sunwoo’s never felt so loved before. You reassure him that it’s going to be okay. You are there to remind him that life isn’t so hard, as long as you’re by his side.

“Okay,” he nods, smiling at you.

“Okay,” you repeat, holding his face in your hands as you kiss him again– it may as well be for the thousandth time. Truth is, while he tried to keep up at first, Sunwoo lost count a long time ago.

Everything there is to know about love, Kim Sunwoo learned from you. You showed him the childlike playfulness during your dates. You taught him how to kiss, only to take advantage of his newly found skills and keep them all for yourself. You showed him what it is to share joys, dreams, but also worries together. You were his first crush, date, relationship– and now, his first lover.

In the comfort of your childhood bedroom, holding you closer than ever, Sunwoo dreams of eternity with you. He doesn’t realize what a foolish thought it might be. Somehow, he’s got a feeling that no matter what it is, you two will figure it out. You always do.

to. my first love

September 2000

Muscles sore and whole body heaving in pain, Sunwoo trails inside the small bungalow the university gave him as student accommodation, dropping his duffel bag to the floor. His face is pulled into a small frown as he enters the house and his roommate can’t help but notice. “Everything alright?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Sunwoo hums, nodding at the question. He has 3 assigned roommates– all male, all around his age. Sunwoo’s english isn’t bad, but it also isn’t that great either. He knew that this was going to be one of the main concerns of him moving out abroad, but he figured that the more you encounter the language, the more comfortable you get with it. Due to this, though, the two American boys he rooms with– their names are Josh and Sam– aren’t as close with him. Sunwoo doesn’t really blame them. It’s not like he tried to get close with them anyway. He talks much more with Mark, the one year older boy that’s also Korean, but has been living in the States for years now. The language barrier is nearly nonexistent there, and so he feels much more comfortable.

Not comfortable enough to vent to him about his problems, though. It’s good to share a laugh with Mark when they eat breakfast together in the kitchen, but he won’t go on and talk his ear off about his homesickness, for example. Sunwoo wouldn’t talk to him about the weird, unsettling feeling in his gut whenever he takes the bus or walks down the street, not recognising every face he encounters like he did back home, in his small town. He won’t tell Mark Lee about how much he misses Korea– he’s sure the boy has his own things to worry about. Besides, it’s not like Mark talks about personal stuff with him either. After four days of living here, he can’t say their relationship got to the level of going deep with their personal lives.

And so, Sunwoo walks up the stairs in silence, not giving Mark more information about his mood. Each step up hurts, since the training is twice as demanding as it used to be at home, making his muscles sore and his back hurt terribly from the stone hard mattress in the bed of his new home. He is willing to endure it, but he also has the terrific need to complain about it to anyone that would be willing to listen.

He should start writing a diary, he thinks as he stares up on the ceiling, chewing on the inside of his cheek. It sounds good enough to channel his feelings out into while also not being a bother to anyone else. Besides, he doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s having a hard time here in Boston. This was all his decision, his dream, and sometimes, things are going to get difficult. And that’s okay. Sunwoo just… feels like he lacks the support system he once had back home in Korea. Like someone took it from between his fingertips, forcefully kept it away from him, locked somewhere miles away. Maybe the person who did that to him was himself all along…

Which is why he doesn’t deserve to whine about the fact that he feels terribly lonely. He did this to himself. All him.

If he had a diary, he’d write about the terrible mattress first, he thinks. Then, the weird weather around here– it’s always hot, but not humid. It doesn’t rain as much. He kind of misses the rain.

If he had a diary, he’d write about how he misses his old coach. The high school coach that always made sure the game was fun, yet productive. He misses his teammates as well. Their team never did big things, but he felt like they were some sort of a family. They knew each other well on the field. They had chemistry. They had fun.

He’d write about how he misses his annoying little sister. How he wishes she would appear in the doorway of his room and talked to him about the stickers she still collects, or dragged him to make another friendship bracelet together. How he feels bad for leaving her all alone back home, even though he was never the one to share his brotherly love for her so outwardly growing up. He feels a sort of appreciation for her that he didn’t quite understand when they were little. They are right when they say your sibling is your first best friend after all.

He’d write about the second best friend he’s ever made, Eric. He’d write about how he longs for his presence, his encouraging words. His funny remarks, the pranks he’d pull on him. How he always appreciated him being just across the street, how he enjoyed growing up with him by his side.

He’d write about how much he misses you– perhaps the most out of everyone. There aren’t many words he could use to describe how much he wishes for your presence, and so he thinks the pages filled with sentences directed to you would be rather sparse, and it makes him kind of sad to think about. In his mind, you deserve novels written about you. You deserve love letters and poems and essays filled with every little detail of your existence. Maybe if Sunwoo loved you less, he would be able to talk about it more.

When his eyes go out of focus staring at the ceiling, Sunwoo decides to call you. It’s been 4 days since he arrived and he hasn’t spoken to you since you waved him off to the airport. His mother drove him and you couldn’t go to send him off at the gate, but Sunwoo almost thinks he prefers the fact that you only said goodbye to him in front of his house. It would be that much harder if he saw your face the last thing before boarding the plane.

For the last four days, he’s been slowly settling in, taking in the new country and the new environment. He’d say he was just too busy to call, but that would be a lie.

He was just scared to hear your voice. Terribly.

What if you changed your mind? What if you no longer want to stay with him? What if it’s too hard to handle? And Sunwoo knows it’s hard– hell, it’s the most difficult thing he’s ever done– but all he wishes is for you to keep handling it well. To keep his heart in your hands gently, like you always have, sending him your energy.

He figures that if there’s one thing that can help his growing homesickness, it is to hear your voice.

Sitting up from his bed and walking over to the bag he carried with him through the airport and kept with him on the plane, he scrambles through the item to find the piece of paper you forced into his hand on the driveway of his house.

“We changed our landline yesterday, so call me on this number when you get there,” you said, pressing a kiss towards his cheek before you let him get into his mother’s car. Sunwoo promised to call back then– he hopes you don’t mind the delay. Maybe he could blame the timezones…

Hand thrusting into the front pocket of the bag, Sunwoo feels around and tries to fish out the little piece of paper. He’s 100% certain he put it there after he got into the car with his mum, making sure it’s safe and sound. He would hate to lose it– it was some sort of safety net for him. Something to fall back to, something to keep him above the water.

Panic settles in his chest when he doesn’t feel the soft piece of paper anywhere. The boy unzips all other compartments of the bag, turning it around, shaking out everything that’s inside. The phone number to your new landline has to be there somewhere in there. It needs to be.

When he doesn’t find it in his bag, he opens his closet. He throws everything out to the ground– his clothing, his shoes, the notebooks he bought for university– all in the search of the stupid, little, yet so important piece of paper. He searches through all his other bags. All pockets of his jeans, every centimeter of his folded clothing. All drawers of his desk, the whole floor, hell, he even crouches to check under his bed, blowing the dust bunnies out of reach, desperately hoping he could wish the paper into existence. He searches his bed. All possible parts where the landline number could be– some more unreasonable than others. Sunwoo feels like he is losing his mind.

The paper is nowhere in his room. It’s like it vanished. Was it really there at all? Did he dream that moment up?

Running down the stairs towards the landline, he takes the phone off the wall and punches in the numbers to your old landline, the pattern so familiar in his fingertips he couldn’t tell you the number if you asked, but he could recreate it with punching in the buttons in on any other phone in the world. He clenches his fist together, breathing more heavily as he listens in, praying for the universe to stop playing tricks on him and make you magically answer on the other side.

When the phone makes a dismissive sound, signaling that the number he called no longer exists, Sunwoo shuts the phone against the wall and takes it again, putting in your old number once more, like a summoning ritual. Maybe he put the numbers in wrong the first time… Maybe he made a mistake somewhere along the way…

When he gets the same response, he tries again. And again. And again.

He can’t believe it. Tension settles into his shoulders, making him twirl the cord of the landline in between his fingers as a way to calm himself down, listening in to the dull noise on the other side telling him there’s nothing that can be done, nothing more that he can do. He doesn’t have the number, and somehow, although it sounds foolish, it feels like he lost you alongside it too.

“Everything alright, man? You look–” Mark enters the room, peering at the boy with curious, worried eyes. It’s only now that Sunwoo realizes he is breathing heavily, fingers clammy on the cord, heart begging to run out of his chest to get all across the ocean to you. It’s only now that he realizes his cheeks are wet with tears, the solidification of his inner turmoil taking a physical form and appearing on his face, making him feel pathetic in front of the older boy.

Sunwoo once again puts the phone back to its original place, but this time, he doesn’t take it back and tries the useless old phone number again. Simply turning away from his roommate, he accepts his fate as he quickly puts on his shoes and slams the door shut after him, going out for a run.

Is this his punishment for waiting too long? Did the paper vanish out of his possession because he was deemed unworthy of hearing your voice? Should he have tried to look for the number earlier? Would this have prevented it?

It’s hard to run when your nose is stuffed and your breathing hitches with silenced sobs, he learns. Sunwoo doesn’t get as far as he would have liked, crumbling on a bench somewhere next to a playground, picking at the dry skin of his lips until they bleed and the irony taste on his tongue snaps him back into reality.

What was once his dream is starting to feel more like a nightmare. When he calls Eric two days after to ask him to get him your new landline number, he gets the news that you abruptly moved out to New York.

September 2007

“If you really think about it, Y/N,” Sunwoo hums, making you shift your attention towards his serious-looking face, “we never really broke up in the first place.”

The boy is holding a bottle of cider in his hand, one of the four you got on your way to your tonight’s destination. Sunwoo rang the bell to your house a few minutes before 10 PM, and although you weren’t expecting to see him that day and you weren’t even looking as presentable as you’d like, you agreed to take a walk with him. Somehow, the two of you found yourselves climbing over the fence of your old high school, sneaking into the football field, figures settling on one of the benches of the tribune.

“Oh yeah,” you hum, lightness evident in your tone, “you just never called. What’s up with that, by the way?” you ask, snickering when you watch the male avert his gaze in a bashful manner, as if he was embarrassed to tell you his reasoning.

You take a sip of the apple cider, enjoying the sweet, fruity taste on your tongue, watching as the male contemplates his next response for a bit, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I lost your new landline number,” he peeps, voice barely louder than a whisper.

His answer doesn’t register immediately in your brain. The words take a moment to string themselves together into a sentence, taking another few seconds before you understand the meaning of his confession. A soft laugh drags out of your throat, disbelief coating your very essence. “What?”

“Yeah,” he nods, scratching the back of his neck before looking back at you, eyes full of guilt and shame, “I… I lost the number you gave me, and when I called Eric to try to make him get me your new number, he told me you moved to New York, and I guess… I guess I took it as a sign…?” he says, shrugging.

“A sign of what?” you ask, genuinely surprised to hear his answer.

All this time, you thought he didn’t call because he didn’t want to. You thought he didn’t call because he was too busy, too tired to deal with anything else other than his career at the moment. He was trying his hardest and training every day, so you understood that he wouldn’t have time for you every day. When he didn’t call for so long, even after you moved to the States as well– you hoped he’d somehow try searching for your number even then, because in your mind, everything was possible– one day, you just… stopped waiting for him to call. You stopped hoping you would hear his voice on the other side of the line.

And you accepted it. He realized long distance relationships were too difficult to maintain, especially in that time and age, and he had too many of his own worries to take care of before focusing his attention somewhere else. You didn’t resent him, no. You longed for him, you missed him, but you never once hated him for the decision he made. You wished him well, all this time.

“A sign that… that maybe we weren’t meant to be,” he hums, shrugging. “It sounds stupid, really, but…” he trails off, cutting himself off in the middle of the sentence.

Something about his confession makes you feel a bit lighter. Your shoulders feel like there’s no longer anything weighing them down. It’s not like you waited for an explanation all those years and when you finally got one, something in you shifted into a more comfortable position.

“For me, back then, you were the right person, wrong time. And I didn’t want to let you go, I really didn’t, it’s just… everything was already so hard and the world seemed to put so many obstacles in my way of contacting you, that I thought it was the universe telling me to drop it and let you go. So you could… so you could find someone else, I guess…” he finishes explaining. He averts his gaze from you, pointing it towards the empty field, as if scared to see your reaction to his blabbering. He takes another few sips of his cider, snickering. “It wasn’t fair of me to want you to wait for me either.”

So you could find someone else… You think back to all the times you went on dates after you concluded that your relationship with Sunwoo was over. You try to remember their faces, their mannerisms in such detail that you could only make up one of your previous lovers– the one sitting next to you right now– and you chuckle at your foolishness. Remembering how you kept comparing every new person in your life to the one that stole your heart first, remembering how you thought about him late at night, wondering where he is right now and how he’s doing. You used to look through the sports parts of newspapers, looking for his name somewhere, looking for his team name, but never seeing a glance of how he was doing. You wore the stupid friendship bracelet he gave you in your junior year around in New York, having people point it out and ask about it, all until it broke off by itself one day and you reluctantly said goodbye to the sentiment.

You dated around after losing contact with Sunwoo. You don’t really think you found someone else, though.

“I wanted to wait for you, though,” you say, shuffling closer to the male on the bench, voice sincere. “It was my decision.”

“Well,” he chuckles, “life had other plans for us two.”

His sentence makes you think. A few days ago, it would make you sad. Embarrassed, even. Life had other plans for you two and they didn’t align with what you two have calculated during the summer break after your senior year. Sunwoo didn’t become a star. His football career never took off. He finished his degree and came back home, bitter and heartbroken.

Your plans ended just as fast as you came up with them. Not going to university after high school, you were left with nothing to do. When the opportunity to take an internship for a news company in New York came to you so suddenly, you took it without thinking, trying to find your place in the big world ahead of you. You had no plan, but you think that maybe, some part of you wanted to get away from your hometown all along. You wanted to do big things, make everyone proud. Being a news anchor wasn’t even something you dreamed of when you were little, so you guess you weren't supposed to really feel that let down, but the defeat still stings.

Or, at least, it used to. You find that the failure doesn’t hurt as much anymore.

Looking at the male next to you, you think you know the reason why. “It’s okay,” you say, shrugging, “we figured it out anyways, didn’t we?”

“Yeah,” Sunwoo sighs, looking at you with a soft smile playing with his lips. “I guess we did.”

The sound of cicadas hits your ears when you two fall into a comfortable silence. Healing old wounds was surely one of the items on your check list when you came back home, but you didn’t expect to get over things so quickly. You don’t think you would have been able to get over everything alone, though– and this makes you twice as grateful to still have Sunwoo by your side. A sense of nostalgia takes over you at the fact, but this time, it hits you with more fondness than longing for the old times.

“Remember how young we were? It’s like I still see you chasing the ball around the field when I focus hard enough,” you say, pointing ahead of you.

Sunwoo laughs, shaking his head at your antics. “Yeah. I almost see you leading the cheer practice in the back there,” he points, “in your cute cheer uniform, with the ridiculous pom poms in your hands–”

“Hey, don’t call them ridiculous,” you gasp, “they were my favorite part of the whole routine!”

“Oh, I could tell,” he laughs, poking fun at you.

“Well, you must have liked the pom poms enough to stare at me during practice all the time,” you shrug, teasing the male back. The fact that Sunwoo had a crush on you long before you reciprocated the feelings wasn’t something you two explicitly talked about before, but you always deemed as clear as day. Or, at least, it was to everyone back then.

“I did not–” he gasps, making you gently shove him with your elbow.

“Come on, everybody used to say you had a crush on me back then,” you hum, “you were pretty obvious with it too.”

“You knew?” he looks at you, eyes big and surprised. Gears clearly running in his head, he tries to piece the information together, running through the memories now so distant, but still so clear.

“Girls always know,” you point out, shrugging. You take another sip of your cider, licking your lips after and speaking up again, tone of voice almost confidential. “I just acted like I didn’t. But then I realized I liked you back, so I was trying everything in my power to make you confess to me first. Which… took you long enough, young man,” you giggle, seeing the male shake his head at you in disapproval.

“You could’ve confessed first, if you were so confident,” he mutters, obviously a little gutted by the revelation.

“That would be below my level,” you nod, pressing your lips together into a straight line, “besides, it was fun watching you act all cute and clueless.”

“Don’t call me cute and clueless–”

“That’s what you were, though! Like the time when you got super drunk on your birthday and begged me not to leave–”

“I didn’t even like you back then!”

“Sure you didn’t.”

“I was in denial,” he furrows his brows theatrically, putting the empty glass bottle to the grass, “but I see that you had a lot of fun watching me suffer.”

“Fine, pretty boy,” you say, catching a glimpse of the boy momentarily shying away, presumably at the endearing nickname, his cheeks tinting pink even in the faint moonlight. “Would it make you feel better if I confessed first this time?”

“Huh?” the boy asks, lips parted, eyes a big, honest pool of honey.

Cute and clueless, you think.

The story comes full circle when you realize that this football field is perhaps what started it all. This is where you ran up to the new addition to the team, saying that your favorite number was on the back of his jersey. As the leader of the cheerleading team, you took it as your job to make every newbie feel welcomed– no matter if they were a fellow cheerleader or a football player. You didn’t expect for the boy to never stop wearing the number– although it was your favorite, it didn’t seem to be so important back then. (One day, you learned that Sunwoo kept the number on his jersey even after moving abroad. You read it in one of the sports magazines you foolishly flipped through in every kiosk you encountered and almost teared up in the busy store after.)

This field is where you watched him play football every week. It’s where you both practiced, sending each other funny faces after the coach was mean to either of you for not being focused on your training.

This is where Sunwoo found his passion– where he found his dream. This is the place that shifted the next couple of years of your life towards all sorts of directions. This is where he kissed you after winning a match, a gleeful confession slipping past his lips. This is where your relationship started, and metaphorically, also ended. The field that kept you apart is now a thousand miles away, but the one that brought you together is now right in front of you.

You guess it’s only right to use it for new beginnings.

“I think… I think I’m still in love with you, Sunwoo,” you start slowly, playing with your fingers in your lap, “well, I don’t know if my feelings for you ever ended… they could’ve, I mean, we were apart for so long… I just… all I know is that I don’t want us to be apart anymore, and I–”

Your words die on your tongue when the boy cuts you off with a kiss, the taste of apple cider mixing on your lips. The way he kisses you didn’t really change even after so many years, still swaying you with the familiarity of his loving. Still, even though you know the way he angles your jaw, the way he presses against you, the way he takes his sweet time, truly showing you how much he enjoys the act, you never grow tired of it. Something in you reacts the same way as when you were young. There’s still excitement, there’s still tender softness in your heart every time you kiss him.

His lips break apart from yours, a playful tint in his words when he speaks to you again. “Don’t try to take credit for it now,” he says, “because the last time I checked, we never really broke up in the first place, so you could say we were dating all along, all because I confessed back in–”

“God, you’re unbelievable,” you grunt.

“But you love me,” the boy says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is.

“Always have,” you say, pressing a quick peck to his plush lips, “always will.”

The starlight glazes your cheekbones when you rest your forehead against his, as if to send him a telepathic message that is worth more than a thousand words. It’s hard to find the words to explain the mixture of your emotions right now, but when your memory washes up the encouraging monologue Sunwoo offered to you when you first arrived, you finally agree with his sentiment. Perhaps, one word could summarize it all– you feel truly content.

They say you never forget about your first love. At 25 and still counting, you guess you could say that’s true.

#deoboyznet #sunwoo #the boyz #sunwoo fluff #sunwoo x reader #sunwoo angst #the boyz angst #the boyz fluff #the boyz x reader #the boyz scenario #the boyz imagine #sunwoo scenario #sunwoo imagine

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slmjaeyuns · 2 years

Text

☼ kim sunwoo fics that altered my brain chemistry ☼

all time favourites ♡

(fics contain a combination of genres including fluff, angst, suggestiveness, smut)

♡ the boy ♡

♡ blurred lines ♡

♡ this is how we fall ♡

♡ heart shaped exhaust pipes ♡

fluffs ❀

❀ pose ❀

❀ odds ❀

❀ yūgen ❀

❀ rekindle ❀

❀ love sick ❀

❀ seat filler ❀

❀ safe place ❀

❀ you’re safe ❀

❀ hoodie talk ❀

❀ aquaphobia ❀

❀ when it’s right ❀

❀ goal: your heart ❀

❀ walking on sunshine ❀

❀ from my moon to yours ❀

sequel: ❀ under our stars ❀

❀ you look hideous on me ❀

❀ when the hydrangea bloom ❀

❀ what type of cheese are you? ❀

❀ what happens in vegas, stays in vegas ❀

angst ☽

☽ jeong ☽

sequel: ☽ commitment ☽

☽ clouds ☽

☽ daisies ☽

☽ die for you ☽

☽ going high ☽

☽ dandelions ☽

☽ spring snow ☽

☽ run with hell ☽

☽ take me back ☽

☽ dear stranger ☽

☽ stubborn love ☽

☽ bloom for you ☽

☽ come back home ☽

sequel: ☽ promised you the moon ☽

☽ today’s happiness ☽

☽ the girl i haven’t met ☽

☽ maybe in another life ☽

☽ a pink sweater in spring ☽

☽ rewind, revive (all that we are.) ☽

suggestive/smut ☁︎

☁︎ ridin’ ☁︎

☁︎ bbgg ☁︎

☁︎ insanity ☁︎

☁︎ attention ☁︎

☁︎ unnamed ☁︎

☁︎ consuming ☁︎

☁︎ lucky charm ☁︎

☁︎ plein d’amour ☁︎

☁︎ ditching plans ☁︎

☁︎ st. fratty’s day ☁︎

☁︎ relax, let’s do it ☁︎

☁︎ so much for self control ☁︎

☁︎ a little tmi between friends ☁︎

#the boyz #sunwoo #sunwoo fluff #sunwoo angst #sunwoo smut #sunwoo fic #sunwoo fic recs #the boyz fic recs #sunwoo x reader #sunwoo scenarios #sunwoo imagines

2K notes · View notes

littleroaes · 4 months

Text

To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before, tbz

PAIRING ⏵ ( 2nd pov, you ) fem!reader x lee hyunjae, lee juyeon, ji changmin, kim sunwoo, eric sohn

at the last two weeks before the semester; your younger brother leaked your old love letters. when you return to university, you work as a part time assistant for the hockey team. the charming crush of your youth has read your letter and makes a deal to not spread it if in return, you'll be his fake girlfriend for the upcoming house party. that night sets off an event with all five letters.

GENRE ⏵ FLUFF, college!au / university!au, setting around 2013 ( 2010s!au ), 2000s!au ( childhood ), to all the boys i’ve loved before!au, summer!au, some angst since we do only have one end game, childhood friends2lovers, hockey player!hyunjae, playboy (with a soft side)!hyunjae, short fake dating!au side plot, boy next door!eric, frat!eric, rich kid!eric, flirty but shy!sunwoo, old summer love!sunwoo, reader is an medical assistant, lots of pining, mutual pining, cats!!!, nerdy oblivious juyeon, literature major!juyeon, history major!changmin, changmins bad at sports (sorry bub), 3 different types of parties!, a pool party, a house party, a beach party (i don’t even like parties irl!)

WARNINGS ⏵ reader is good at sports ( volleyball ), hyunjae is a little mean/ manipulative at the start, reader gets drunk twice, sunwoo once ( oufff ), swearing a few times ( fuck, shit ), some jealousy, bad dancing (specially from reader), reader's zodiac sign is a capricorn (for a joke), kissing, pet names ( angel, princess ), proofread once ( i feel like ive forgotten something but hope not😭 )

WORD COUNT ⏵ 19 k

playlist i listened to while writing

this is my fic for @deoboyznet the love letter collective event ! if you specifically want to know which members will have more romantic storylines and who reader will end up with; i have written it out at the end of the post! ( if it being your bias is important for reading ex ). though all five will have cute/ flirty moments with reader! i changed to 2nd person pov for no reason😭 i hope you don’t mind here’s a 500 word teaser before commitment ( it’s in 3rd pov for now! )

like and reblog are highly encouraged !

01 . CHAPTER ONE

IMAGINE THIS; ONCE UPON A TIME, FATHER OF YOURS SAID THAT TO SCOUR THE EVIL THOUGHTS OCCUPYING YOUR YOUNG MIND, ONE ONLY HAS TO WRITE LETTERS. What a magical solution to all the finite problems of youth! That’s what you thought even as you started to come of age and the inevitable falls of love. Each time, when your innocence was consumed, little by little, by the harsh realities of romance; you spit it out on a piece of paper, enveloped it, stored it in a box (extra security measures) and sheltered underneath your bed.

And now, you’re in university. Back home for the last two weeks before the autumn semester. Laying against the bed–it reeks of school mornings of 2005–and still holds those letters beneath. The pink hues on the pillows are still there, maybe a little washed out. All butterflies stickers from magazines are plastered on furniture that shines, just slightly, when the sun goes down underneath the neighboring roofs, lucent through the open windows.

You’ve hung out with Eric, a childhood friend. Bicycled down the gravel paths fenced in lines through houses. Side by side, always trying to one up the other like you always did. Take a swim in the same lake, in the same spot those old pictures show. Like those days; the sun never falters until it all stands on the edge between diagonal roofs.

And amidst your childhood lies your younger cousin. Bare arms touch each other as you lie side by side with feet over the pillows, and noses –the paper box of letters. She told you about a longing crush she has for a boy in the parallel class. When overconsumed by nostalgia; you couldn’t refrain from dusting off the old box. And that’s how you ended up back with the letters you swore to withhold.

There are five of them.

The first one is Lee Jaehyun, a three year older popular student who you had a trivial crush on in middle school ( together with everyone else). In all honesty you didn’t know much about him; just that he was cute looking. There’s a sort of emotional torment in recalling the one sided adoration while leaned out the school window to see him play football. Even his name haunts you still in uni as your roommate had a crush on the shining hockey player the entire two semesters.

In short, everyone liked Lee Jaehyun.

Next is Eric Sohn, your childhood friend, the boy next door, even first love? He has many titles you realize. He lived in an impressive house north from here, one that hosts many parties every time his parents take the trip to their summer resort. At some point, it felt like he knew every kid in town. Luckily, you have never been the jealous type. Despite being each other’s ride or die since ten, you never confessed the secret ways you looked at him back in the sandbox.

Third is Sunwoo–just Sunwoo; you never got his last name–from summer camp who you even ( jokingly ) got married to. Your first summer at thirteen, away from parents, with kids the same age. When recalling it all back, that summer feels as if taken out of a movie, and you fell head first, three meters deep with the boy. Sunwoo always stood in the center ( bad and good…mostly bad tbh ). You got paired up for the kayak; it pissed rained and your coordination couldn’t take you ten meters. But you remember every word he said as butterfly inducing nonetheless. After that, at night you snuck out of your cabins to watch the stars. And when that summer too ended, you swore your heart shattered into million pieces.

The fourth is Lee Juyeon, a boy you had never seen before until his cat got pregnant by yours. Scuba Steve ( long story ) had been gone for some days until another family came up to their door with him. For half a year, it felt like you saw Lee Juyeon everyday. He was just as enchanted by kittens as you ( if not more ) and you two would visit each other just to cuddle with them. The teenage heart used to rush with the mere presence of him and together you named all the kittens–until they were sold off. Then they eventually stopped seeing each other. Though he still lurks around as a poet’s ghost around campus ( source Eric ).

The last one, Ji Changmin, the son of your mother’s friend. He teached you calculus for a while in high school. To be fully transparent, you didn’t learn much from him that year because all you did was leaning on the kitchen table while adoring him until the rims of his glasses slipped. He always scolded you endearingly when you didn’t listen ( which was the majority of the time ). Ji Changmin always wore cute polos with neat pants–now when thinking about it, mother might have approved if you got together. But it’s too late. He went to uni; and simply left you with a newfound thing for glasses ( still wearing cute polos in uni ).

And that’s all. You sometimes wonder if it was a mere symptom of youth that resulted in those letters. Since uni–outside a campus crush or two-–that compelling yearning for someone has never come back.

Eventually the bird’s cease to sing once the sun swallows entirely by the horizon, and cicadas can be heard through the open windows. You leave the letters as the two of you close the door. Mother asked if you and your cousin wanted to go with the rest of the adults down to the green field at the center of the neighborhood, you said yes.

When the heavy door shuts against the frame, voices from your younger brother’s room at the highest floor seeps through the windows.

( next morning )

“Mom, you haven’t seen some letters?” You stand at the stairs to look down the kitchen counter where mother and your brother turn from the pantry light.

“Three’s blue and two pink envelopes?” You ask again.

Mom shakes her head, “No, I haven’t?”

You sigh, sprint up the second floor.

“Y/n?”

Call of your name echoes through the frame into your room. To look over the bed and see your younger brother centered at the white rectangle. His fringe like curtains reluctant to open as he looks elsewhere. You come up completely.

“What?”

“The letters…”

Your ears perk up, “You’ve seen them?”

“No, I took them…” He says guilty and starts tearing off paint from the wall.

“The guys wanted to prank you yesterday, we sent them, I’m really sorry.”

He looks up again, “But I told them to not do anything more.” He reassures, but his voice trails off as you neither alienate or sigh at this confession. Eyes, lifeless as the posture in your arms hanging off your stale corpse.

“You did what?” You ask; wishing you heard incorrectly the first time and he crashed a vase instead.

“We sent your letters..” He says hesitantly with eyebrows knit.

You close your eyes. Take your hands up your face to cup it and breathe in. Autumn semester starts in exactly 13 days and you know at least half of the letter receivers attend. And definitely all five live in the city.

To breathe out, hands fall in your lap. He cocks an eyebrow at what one could guess is a meditation session before you open your eyes.

“I’LL KILL YOU!”

02 . CHAPTER TWO

( tuesday afternoon )

The letters were out; an existential dread running on two bags of pure sugar surged within you. A sensation you were oblivious to existed. First week went, and you hoped the mail man had fallen over and left the letters on the highway, doomed to get run over til their unreadable. But those wishes perished the very moment Eric Sohn came chanting underneath the window. The characteristic bird chimes and mowers intertwined in green leaf rustle; his voice echoed through open glass. You told mom not to tell him you were here; that you had already taken the train to the city.

Destiny was in your favor for once, and your mother did lie when Eric came to the front door.

So far, none crossed fate with the receivers of your letters has ensued. Eric was the only established friend in your life, hence you held yourself far, far away from any business major hot spots. Though, just after achieving three days. The first afternoon at the start of your part time; rulers leave you forced to stare eye to eye with receiver number one.

“This is Y/n, she will work as your athletic trainer assistant for this semester.” The trainer lifts hands to his side to make it even clearer than it already was. It is damn cold beside the ice rink–which you thank god for since your face would be blistered red otherwise. As he presents for all tall men in thick layers of hockey protection, they stare; you’re left to make a timid jazz hand motion with a strained smile.

“I’m Y/n.” Hands fall back to your side and concentrate all might to look at the other eight people–not the one to the right.

“She will be helping me with equipment and aid; so you’ll see her around a bit.”

The players wave past you in turn; to introduce themselves in a mere identical manner. The last name pains deeply as you pretend to find shoelaces loose.

“Jaehyun.”

You can’t see his expression, not even when eyes come up. Only his back covered in blue jersey greets you as he steps off the plastic flooring and onto the ice.

Though, it is an immediate opportunity for breathing room when all players go to practice. The plastic walls become solid and you look over the formations on ice. Maybe you got yourself free from this one? Maybe Hyunjae also thought it was so damn awkward that it’s easier to ignore it. You hope deeply while taking off one glove, as sultry temperatures rise beside the rink.

Followed by the 30 minutes of relocating equipment around the center, the next time you come back into the ice hall, the trainer greets you with sweat outlining his sideburns. You knit your eyebrows before taking eyes off him and onto the player in navy; halting out the rink. Turns out Coach yelled two different instructions, followed after one another; which resulted in a collision of two players.

He tells you to take him, who limps to the clothing rooms. By immediate compliance you approach his silhouette; leaning on the plastic divide. You can’t make out the exact expression as he faces the ground, but when you ask him if he needs help walking. That horribly handsome face from your childhood looks up. Breathing heavily, but smiles through the fringe.

“Yeah.”

You purse your lips into a thin line. To force sight away from him. You look at the entrance to the ice hall while taking his arm over your shoulders. Come to the clothing room after taking off his ice skates. The two intentions of your own conscience fought while walking. Nothing would be more awkward than looking at him again, on the other hand, the concern over his weak state is true as the continuous breath sounds loudly beside your ear.

Hyunjae’s now on the bench before one side of the lockers. He watches attentively as you round the sport’s bags to take the first aid kit on the other side. The ventilation is the loudest thing in the room. At some point it becomes bothersome as you hold his clothing. You haven't made eye contact since the rink, but senses his gaze fixed over your scalp.

He talks suddenly.

“You know Y/n, I got your letter.” He says while looking down at your hand; securing the bandage around his ankle.

Fuck.

Fingers stale from suspension for a moment on the bandage edges. The material loses around his ankle and you force it towards you.

A sigh, still looking down, “Listen; it was my br–”

“It’s appreciated Angel, but it will never happen.” His lips curve higher at one opposite edge, leaving his eyes on you with pleasure like he knows something wrong.

You let go off his legs; weight from your hands fully on your knees as you observe–rolling your eyes.

“I know, okay.” You breathe in, “What I was about to say was; my little brother sent it, it was not meant to be seen by you.” Another sigh before you force yourself up from the floor; coming in greater height than Hyunjae.

“Also; I wrote it when I was like 11.” To turn to the first aid kit, “So don’t get your ego too high, Ice God.”

“Sure, if that’s what you say, Angel.” Hyunjae takes his palms on the bench surface; leaning against the locker. Arch of his lips might rewrite your life when he proceeds to stare.

“Why do you even call me that?” You return to the opposite side and cross arms; to perceive him roughly as if to build similar strain in him. But it leaves to no avail.

“Why?” He quotes, “You’re sitting here healing us, our team’s little angel.” He shrugs his shoulders.

You look away as to not blossom of rose pigment–instead start organizing the materials in the aid kit.

“Either way, Jaehyun. You can go now, it’s done.”

No length of his voice waves via the dead locker ocean. After eyes set on the sections of the green bag; you glance at his bench. And to make you uncertain, his white bandage leg is still in frame. After you pull the zipper and leave the kit in your lap; you stare at Hyunjae who, with the usual smile, stares back.

“I said you can go…” Quietly and tilt your head towards the door.

“I know.” Hyunjae voices in the same tone as before.

You side eyes him still and sits up.

“I have a deal. Would you like to hear it?” He says suddenly, causing a rupture across the room and stacked tension weighing on your shoulders.

“Okay…” There’s an uncertain principle, written like a formula over your expression, layered in your voice.

“You go with me as my girlfriend for Jeno’s party this Friday.” He says monotone.

The first aid kit frees from your hands. Eyes drifting between two points and you’re left looking eyebrow knit at him two meters away. Then, forced to turn when he smiles contempt. You swiftly bend down to take the aid kit before returning gaze. Hyunjae sees in center of two bags hanging; your lips sunder to shove down the offer. Right through the concrete to the core mit.

“--Or else I’m putting up your letter for the whole campus to see.”

You immediately shut sealed and eyelids folds half over the curvature. He smiles so hard it borders on comical. And with his arms crossed over his jersey, you only wait for them to fall and see him burst out laughing; tell you he got you. But the silence prevails your thoughts and you start to believe he’s actually serious.

“I don't believe you.” You look tired at him.

“No, I’m serious.” Hyunjae still nonchalantly crossed armed and slack raised shoulders.

As another passage of ventilation comes through, beckon time like the minute visor. You finally sigh and sit down at the bench again.

“Why even me? Can’t you just ask someone else?” Frustration over the seemingly complex idea for a deal when he could make it ten times easier for himself.

His expression falters for a second after the question. Hyunjae holds his lips sealed; unaltered high posture cause he hesitates to give away his shortcomings. But on the other hand, just a little empathy might do it.

“I’m actually in a bad position, Angel.” He leans forward, voice quieter.

“Everyone knows I’ve got a girlfriend, but she broke up with me before the semester. They want to finally see her, but I got none” He pauses and leans his chin on his hand and pouts a little, “--just you.”

The withered corners of your face perks slowly up as he ends his sentence. Hyunjae smiles harder, believing he a white winged victory, but it disappears the very second you laugh in his face. Your back comes against the support of the bench while eyelids close to the bottom of laughter.

“She dumped you?” Hands gather in your knees.

“Too bad, too bad.”

It’s Hyunjae’s turn giving stale eyes. Though, just as fast; he gathers himself back and leans onto the lockers again.

“Yeah, is it a deal or not, Angel?”

You breathe in and look at him still. Hyunjae is more foolish than his appearance gave off, you don't have faith in first impressions. He might as well scan your lost letter and create a chain mail across campus. Partying wasn’t on your list for the first weekend of the semester, but maybe you could get away with lurking against the wallpaper?

You swing your left foot and finally look back at him, “Okay, deal then.”

Hyunjae smirks.

“Just this, then we're equal. No grudge, no obligations.”

“Sure.” He nods.

You tilt your chin down, “...I don’t trust you, Jaehyun.”

He lets his hands up, “Look, I’m keeping my promise. I told you my dirt too.”

“Like not having a girlfriend is as embarrassing as a love letter written in 2002.”

( friday evening )

“Okay, should we go in then?” You take a step forward but get pulled by the shirt. Shoulders come up against him and the arm sleeve of his clothing folds against your nape.

From your first encounter until Friday; you were forced to persevere through charming–bordering on foolish–remarks. The weekend prophesied as projection on the glass entrance that Friday. And it shattered the very moment Hyunjae’s voice echoed from the changing rooms. That he’ll wait for you outside the women’s dormitory. With not a twitch in own expression, he disappeared behind the frame with a wink.

One of your two roommates was also invited to the house party. The thought of having someone else other than ice god settled some relief. But as you stood waiting in the summer heat of night; the first bus went and fifteen minutes later, you saw a familiar silhouette to the left of the stairs you sat on.

He didn’t say anything when you refused to sit up and just glared tired at him.

“What’s with the face, Angel?” He had asked laughing lightly, “We’ll miss the bus.”, you are forced to stand.

“You’re late, Ice God.” You muttered and started walking towards the bus stop. Hyunjae ran up beside.

Both talked while the streetlights behind the glass window became all the more distant. Though, it didn’t become hopelessly quiet, as it was a loud friend group behind. You cursed your half sleeve arms when Hyunjae didn’t know the way to Jeno's house from the bus stop. Forced to traverse between bushes when he pointed at mindless directions. Swore that he knew the “shortcut”. And ants might as well have climbed up your toes and into your underwear.

Now, as either stands before the three stairs and the entrance door in the midst of the front yard. You're pulled against his chest (still covered in leaves).

“Not so fast.”

Though he’s out of peripheral vision; the self satisfied tone at every articulate visualizes his smile. His hands like a thin veil across your shoulders–you take a step back from them, to face him fully.

“Okay then? What’s the plan, Ice God?” You cross arms to build some fence–to match his pride. But either only shares an instant of eye contact before you press your lips and look towards the sad flowers hidden in the corner.

Hyunjae has always enjoyed teasing people. Of course, a bit apprehensive to strangers, but nonetheless; he waits no time to poke at the first friend closest in sight. He himself has probably no thought about it, but he has a thrill for watching people’s reactions. You were no different. Like the sun; secret behind the trees, it’s always so obvious. You were flustered by his turns of nicknames and comments; so much that you feel to defend your blemished garden. There’s something endearingly professional about you, he thinks.

“You have a lip balm or something?” He cocks an eyebrow.

You look at your belongings; eyes looking as narrow threads when apprehensive. To wait for his signature laughter but instead nods his head. You roam around the bag; hands helping to widen your vision, but not enough to notice his fingers below the tender sprout against your head. You look up to see him with one of your two hair clips. Curious what he’ll do; you try no fence when he sets it on his fringe.

“Now I’m yours.” He smiles.

Hyunjae comes down to you slightly before returning; taking his eyes off and onto the entrance before brushing past your shoulder. Because of the evening shades, the red pigments on your cheeks withers out with skin as you look behind your shoulder to see Hyunjae’s figure let the deafening conversations from inside, out. He doesn’t look back towards you, and you knit eyebrows before taking double steps up the stairs and into the house.

With one step you push yourself off the wallpaper; feel shoulders brushing up against your own as the living room opens.

Hyunjae held your hand for the first half an hour. He then let go when something happened between the friends (you didn’t know). But even then you tailed after like some home cat. Though, as anxiety arose after seeing a group of Eric’s friends in the same room, you cautiously backed into the corner. Some stranger did the rest for you when they collided with the table and Jeno’s grandma fell lid first and shattered on the floor. It became a bit quiet when poor grandma(s ashes) laid there, all spread out.

After Jeno panicked and some helped clean up; the chamber of incomprehensible conversations started again.

There’s cliques scattered between the couches. You reach on high toes to see past all the height and hair to locate the frame you came in from. Soon you fall back to your heels, just as the chorus waves through the walls. The crowd suddenly opens up before you when two people walk away. You’re left still and see the open door to the hallway. Shoulders come down in height just as you breathe out. Relieved to take a step to finally leave; but your feet barely touch the wood until eyes widens and air asphyxiates in your throat.

At the end of the high walls; Eric stands half a meter from the door frame. A lamp shines from behind him, lightning up his half body. Like the sun; he becomes the very essence of the narrow square.

You turn in a desperate attempt for survival. This season heat and packed building; it all bends backwards through the grass field in all four directions.

Immediately you see diagonally behind, a staircase up to the second floor. You don't even look back to Eric before colliding with someone's back and sprint up. There’s no lighting up the wooden stairs, just Earth’s wailing moon through the pier glass.

All those voices–through speakers or chords–wanes like the full to crescent moon month.

There’s closed doors around. It burns pace from behind and you take the handle of the door left to the stairs. Without letting it open even half way; you slip past the glimpse and lock it shut.

You lean close to the door; feel the cold wood on your left cheek. The party’s over on this side. Like the melancholic memory of falling asleep to the adults in the other room.

When you expect nothing; a clear voice from behind reiterates peculiar sentences.

Not strong enough to take your chin off the door; you look past your shoulder to see someone in the bathtub with a damned annotated book.

It takes about three seconds from first contact until the bathtub guy flinches, “Ah!?”

“Oh my god!” Your eyes widen while your shoulders contract as wings.

It echoes between the tiles when his book lands on the bathtub floor. To face the sudden him, distressed; your hands come up in height with your wing like bone.

“Sorry.” You deadpan.

“No, it’s okay.” He answers, soft spoken. Eye contact stays fleeting as his fringe–like curtains–falls before the mirage window when he reaches for the book. He mends the awry strands into place; scour the wordy dimensions to where he left off.

You recall his soft silken halo. Hands come down to its sides and you lean off the door. Like a main character from an academic tale; he looks deeply dreamlike–always somewhere else. The guy feels your presence still as above the title cover; his eyes peeks.

At this point, you look at him with wide eyes horror; ready for him to either aristocratically roast your fourteen old writing, or condense into second hand embarrassment and hide under the bathtub.

Lee Juyeon sits in the damn bathtub of a house party.

As you’re deep in fourth dimensional torment; Juyeon speaks first.

“Oh, Y/n.”

He smiles, still holds the book before him.

You refuse to move, “Hi…Juyeon.”

“That was a long time.” He switches between your eyes and the next sentence.

The tension in your frame aids in turn for every second. Juyeon doesn’t mention any letters, but still, you eye him suspiciously.

“Yeah.” You agree awkwardly.

“Why are you here?” You ask.

Juyeon pauses in sentence once again to shift his fringe and look up. You had nearly forgotten the patterns of silence and speaking he so often followed. Back when they always met; they spent so many seconds simply waiting for him to talk.

“I would ask you the same thing.” He sort of tilts his head attentively.

With your lips pursed instead of answering, you look to the mirror above the sink. Water in delicate droplets dive in while he turns the next page.

“Escaping things?” He asks, still reading.

You nod.

“We all do.”

You see him through the mirror reflection. His eyes bent like a faint wave from shore; reassures her lone presence.

As he closes off himself again; you figure he doesn’t mind their shared space. There’s no sign of knowledge about your letter. Juyeon always reeked of innocence, so maybe you’re wishing.

But Eric’s still one floor below (taking the safe option).

You take a seat on the bathtub edge. Shoulder faces Juyeon who leans his back on the discolord cream white tiles. .

“Should I read something for you?” He asks soothingly.

You hesitate before letting your hands comfortably down the edge, “Okay.”

“You want some?” He reaches out the green glass bottle.

Your shoulders scoff when your mind affirms, “Thank you.”

Juyeon asks suddenly, “How’s Scuba Steve?”

Truly the only thing left that protects from not spitting out the alcohol is embarrassment. You do an expression tainted by drinks or unease, and let the bottle down your lap.

To wonder how in the passage of all years; Juyeon recalls your insignificant house cat that mated with his own (or maybe it’s not that weird when you think after).

There’s a sort of foolish–bordering on stupid–touch in your chest that he actually never forgot Scuba Steve. One could guess we live on, assuming we’re the only one that remembers.

“Oh, he’s dead.” You deadpan.

“Oh.”

The room reaches–what resembles closest to silence– in a house party. Both their lips are pressed in thin lines as they view the tiles above each other again.

“You then?” Silence starts to torture you briefly in your fingers.

“How’s…” Your face contracts in parallel to the ceiling when scattered bleached cuts from that black little cat sleeping on his floor.

“Mindy?” He says.

“Oh, Yeah.”

They both laugh.

“She’s still alive.” He lets the book down for the first time (excluding the jumpscare), “She’s with mom and dad. Though she's getting very old now, she eats less and doesn’t even go out anymore.”

As they sat there talking about cats and poetry; eventually the boundary past the toilet door ceases. You didn’t leave that end of the bathtub (aside from running down the kitchen with Juyeon for more alcohol).

Now they lie on opposite builds against the cold edge. It’s been sometime since you drank, specifically this much. You can’t talk for Juyeon, but he seems pretty damn wasted too. Your eyes dares to fall while Juyeon’s shirt climbs up his chin as he comes deeper down the tub.

“I can’t wake up here.” You mumble. Either to yourself or decked out Juyeon; you don't know. He answers something incomprehensible back as a bottle in the scattered line before the bathtub falls. While you grasp for the handle, you turn barely to Juyeon who has his eyes half open.

“Bye, Juyeon, it was epic.” You wave your free hand, “Tell Mindy I said Hi.”

“I’ll do.” He tiredly answers back.

The alcohol withers boundaries within your body. Turns it weak for the downstairs crowd, like poison inducing nausea. In line with poison; You walk as if zombie apocalypse smitten down the stairs without holding onto the railing. Somehow reaches the ground floor and passes through the living room.

Whatever mechanisms your mind built to defend its dignity from Eric; it took the place of the alcohol in its glass bottles. You’re in the hallway, three meters from the entrance. It’s overheating–worse than a sauna–in the house. Mere presence of tepid air has your hands trailing along the walls.

A warmth presence dividing the you and outside blocks. In a desperate drunk attempt you push against it and complain.

“Out the way, you’re fucking hot.”

“I am?”

It speaks back, in a tone rather mischievous than what your state calls for. With a shift of the inner lightning; you realize you have your hands on a uni jacket. The logo turns and you would accuse him of motion sickness.

From your face-low angle, his hands are tied between the blue pockets. You lean harder on the wall to force your chin where his head is tilted with a smile to the same degree.

“You’re still here.” You still complain and his face drops. Eyes fleet between your face, the opposite wall, and the entrance door to return.

“That wasn’t a compliment, right?” His fingers directed to his chest.

“No, Einstein.” Eyebrows knit when realizing you’ve drifted off the main mission. Two shoulders on opposite ends collide as you hastily drag along to the frame.

“Woah, woah.” The male student takes your wrist lightly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I think it’s a great idea.” You defend without knowing.

“You’re gonna fall down the stairs.”

His voice is strangely worried which you would have been touched by, if it wasn’t for the drunk state.

Mid temperatures of night may have transpired any senses as you don't answer. He takes this to come up in line with you; one decimeter away from the first stairs.

There’s two people, solitude in a hammock to the right, and prey like shadows of two around the grass. Music from inside is still too loud, and it probably hides someone puking at the other end.

“I’ll help you, okay? I’m not a weirdo.”

You turn your head to side eye him. Either promise respect or sacrificially bow down, he throws his hand up. To then gently lie it on your shoulder, lead you down.

“That’s what a weirdo would say.” You mumble without working against him.

Gravel scratches underneath their feet and the male student takes his hand off your shoulder; though still twined by the wrist.

He starts, “I need your name, I should call–”

“Sunwoo!”

It seizes pulsations from inside, and the male student takes his head from you. Features on his face and the blue jacket is immediately recognised by the one below. The student's eyes are wide and Sunwoo’s eyebrows hold a neutral position above.

“Jaehyu–”

“She’s my girlfriend!” Hyunjae takes your wrist from him.

“Why are you still standing here?” He agitates before wandering off the gates with you.

Sunwoo shoves his hands up in height with his chest once again; not risking to start fighting with the reigning hockey player while he’s half drunk, half angry.

“I don’t think I’m allowed in here.” Sounds tense.

“It’s not like you’re here to hook up.”

“They don’t know that.” Hyunjae deadpans.

After both left Sunwoo at the stone stairs, Hyunjae coursed through the shrubbery once again. You seemed confused over the interaction; he doesn’t think you even realized the hand on your own changed. He thought you would sober up during the train ride, but you still took irregular stepping patterns down the warm lighted gravel path.

While down the glass entrance to the soaring female dormitory; Hyunjae motioned you to walk in. But as fast he let go of your shoulder, you stumbled three steps back.

“What should we do then?” Hyunjae asks, frustrated.

“I don’t know, it was your idea to go the party.” You cross arms.

“And yours to get so drunk that you can’t stand.” He spits back.

The night pulls them close when they wait lonely, as if exiled. Summer cicadas swallow their venom words and when one street lamp flickers; Hyunjae sighs and takes a seat down the stairs. You follow.

Once the peaceful moon renders all its light, leaving it to its bones; your head falls to his shoulder. While you carve shapes in its craters, your arms mindlessly pull him close. The strands of your hair accumulate on his neck, and while filed under the same sky, your breath sounds like a soundtrack to him.

Like the passage from day to night; he notices his heart like it’s vastly alive. How many eyes have looked at him adoringly, but he can’t even anxiously look down your side. It’s familiar yet strange, he refuses to acknowledge it. And still you are oblivious, can’t even see his blushing face.

“Shouldn’t you go home?” You ask softly. Tired and slow in contrast to the previous sentence.

“I can’t leave you here.” He finally looks down at you.

“Then you're going to be tired tomorrow.” Guilt visually lines your sunken silhouette.

Hyunjae smiles, “You’re gonna be too.”

He speaks gently again after silence, “Sober up a bit more and you’ll walk up.”

03 . CHAPTER THREE

( saturday midday )

Not because you thought you were immortal anyway, but the next morning came crashing through the roof. While grieving your roof (it wasn’t broken), you swore the ceiling fan was up to mock you in its circles. All while last night lingers as a supercut.

Your two roommates had woken up earlier, they were supposed to go out. Where? You can’t remember; at that point you were still trying to figure out who you bickered with outside Jeno’s stairs.

Either way, the bottom line is; you didn’t throw off your clothes, and no texts from Eric.

The campus is idyllically still in late summer. Bird whistle intertwines with the wind who walks like you through the grass, under the same gravel path Hyunjae led you yesterday. Sun drenched tree crowns and your eyes yearn through the gaps.

There’s a yellow haze over the world and when you take another step; charge in gravel comes from behind. How your legs sway towards the grass border, fleeting levels with your eyes over your shoulder. A bicycle comes half a meter before; stops it with his right foot.

“Oh–Hi, Y/n.”

“Oh, Juyeon?”

He jumps off the saddle and they fall in same line.

“You look a bit tired?” Juyeon asks in a voice, perfect sync with the bird song. Once again the world falls so dream-like behind him.

“Yeah, yesterday was…stressful.” You take a palm up to your forehead.

Juyeon’s smile falters, anxiously tilts his head, “Did I do something last night?”

“No,no–something else happened…not you.” Hand between the open space which you wave reassuringly. His eyes become concerned and yours only redder. Hyunjae’s touch still lingers on that half of your body; you’re afraid Juyeon can see it.

You ask something else instead, “You then? You’re not tired?”

He laughs softly, “A bit.” “But I’m supposed to meet a family friend.”

You nod.

Leaving the last tree behind; the blue sky opens up, just in time for his revelation. Juyeon turns to you fully. Merely one can make out the contour of a light bulb above his head.

“She bought two of our kittens; Lemon and…” He knits his eyebrows, unable to see your eyes, brilliant with curiosity.

“I forgot.” He laughs, “They’re big now, I see them sometimes.”

“Really?”

Juyeon hums, “Do you want to see them?”

“Of course!..if it’s okay for your friend?”

“She’s a lady my mother knows.” Juyeon takes one leg over the bicycle saddle and tilts his head–so that his hair too–points to the rack.

“Jump on.”

To exchange his eyes with the bicycle rack; you purse your lips and walk behind. Hands immediately cling to the metal frame, but as Juyeon weighs forward, you hold onto his shirt.

Juyeon looks back and smiles as you struggle, “Hold my waist or you’ll fall off.”

At this moment, you’re so deeply relieved he hasn’t read your letter. It eases the touch in your hands as they come to his front. Shirt folded above your clasped hands lies like a veil.

That feeling, of when a perfect alignment of past and memory presents. It washes over one as soften, melancholic, whiplash. You hadn’t thought about his scent in years, but as they chase the sun yet never pass it, his shirt touches your cheek. In his home where they used to sit on knees beside each other. It flutters your heart tenderly.

At the high end peak you felt burdensome. Juyeon reassured you while weighing onto the pedals standing. He seemed to quietly persist in breathing through his nose, even when he was audible panting.

He led the bicycle to the front, beneath the shadowed roof; you cast your eyes over the asphalt end. The wind rushes through nature up here. As such the foreground, alive, before the still concrete and bricks.

Juyeon called your name to where he waited beside the door. With a half a shoulder hidden by his own, the bell goes off. A lady opens and smiles instantly as she sees Juyeon. Her wrist in rose patterns reaches out for his shoulder, comforts it gently. Since you’re a stranger; you’re left to awkwardly observe and retell like a narrator.

“Oh, you have a girl with you?” She smiles at Juyeon, which he returns. He introduces you to the lady while she weakly widens the door gap.

She still talks when three cats come to the hallway rug. Curiously they silently circle your legs, but they too can tell you’re no threat.

An orange cat, clothed in layers of orange fur, brushes its head against your calf. You immediately bend down to pet it. To figure out if this fox-like complexion existed in your past too; you tilt your head. But your cat’s were more like crows than foxes.

Apparently something must have shown because Juyeon says from beside.

“This is Belle, they had their own kittens here. Ours are probably resting on the couch.”

You look up, “Oh.”

The old lady goes to the kitchen to take out tea and biscuits. Meanwhile Juyeon guides you to the living room where three other cats lie in the cushions of a worn down brown couch. Their socks tenderly span across the clear floor, and it must have woken them up. You smile briefly when they instantly seem to recognize him; reach their heads up for touch once he sits. All weights deeper down the material once you sit beside him. Touching shoulders to see a cat lick his finger in his lap.

Like a jet black scarf in his jeans pattern; it contrasts from the faint white mark–like a moon at night–on her head.

“She’s so big now.” You say when visions from those evenings before the TV playing Sailor Moon. You called out her name–Luna–that day when you saw her cramped between her siblings.

Juyeon also named a kitten after a TV show he watched..

“Is that Mum Mew?”

Now in direction towards the floor; a larger cat, half underneath the couch, half on your feet.

Juyeon laughs, “He’s Oscar now.” He leans closer and whispers, “I don’t think I’ve ever told her that was his original name.”

They sit there until the lady comes out again.

“It’s so lovely that you got a girlfriend, Juyeon.” She puts down the plate and the two look at her, “I’ve all actually thought about you a lot. I’ve been thinking about calling your mother to set you up with someone, I started to get a bit worried.”

The lady has an attentive x on her face. The skin on her forehead hides nothing as it folds, deeply contemplated. Only with your head down and suppressed smile, can you clearly notice the plates against wooden surfaces. Juyeon scratches his nape frantically while laughing.

"Yeah, uhh–” He stammer.

“You know, by your age, I was with many guys.” She sits down on the opposite chair.

“We got together, then we broke up. I had a guy in Paris who I really liked.” She leans forward, “Back then I was so in love I wanted to stay. I thought he was perfect! Kind, handsome, sex–”

“What’s the type of cookie?” Juyeon suddenly bursts out. Leaned over the table pointing at the brown one that’s obviously chocolate. But the lady doesn’t seem to bother.

“Oh, you see!”

You press your lips, the color might have vanished. Though it was painfully awkward; Juyeon was just adorable enough to turn the situation endearing. She still describes in detail over her mother’s mother recipe; and Juyeon from the side nods his head attentively, like he always does.

After another conversation, the topic returns.

“So when did you meet?”

Turns to exchange question marks between you. His eyes don't say much and you guess yours neither.

Juyeon scratches his nape, “We’ve been friends for sometime.”

Lady nods, “Since when?”

“Like…” He looks at you for confirmation, “...fourteen or fifteen?”

“Did you confess, Juyeon? Or Y/n?” She smiles and looks at you, “Juyeon is a bit shy, I’ll be surprised if he confessed.”

He retreats back to the couch; sinks down the heavy material. You laugh lightly at how his shoulders, swallows by waves of brown textile.

“Y/n actually liked me first back then.” He points out gently.

You freeze.

“Then I confessed in university.”

The old woman does a sweet smile; hands patterned of life lie like a cover over her heart as she looks at both.

For the longer you’re in someone’s presence; one starts to adjust to the traits. But even how many conversations went on and the sun above crossed her roof; your shoulders hardened. Like irreversible death does to your physical state, you seem unable to look to Juyeon’s side. By all stars in the universe; you’re suddenly transparent. Obvious, translucent piercing glass.

You looked out the window at the old woman’s house; terrifyingly, the sky was pink. All the world disappeared at fatal speed when they bicycled back to campus. There must be a sort of brilliant snow, in a color out of our spectrum, that rains down on Earth in summer evening. It leaves the landscape quiet and calm. Cicadas sing when everyone else ceases to.

None of you felt like going to the dorms just yet, instead; you now sit in the auditorium. Though either laugh echoes throughout the wide open space, there’s a dissolving acid in your lungs, begging to drink all air.

All those characteristics of a person reveal to the open world after all these years. Because you can’t remember Juyeon being so persistent in apologizing. They came in on the “girlfriend” incident; he smiled embarrassingly, felt guilty for forcing you in on it. You told him it was okay.

After echoing silence; it soars through the auditorium. Juyeon reaches down his backpack with all its scattered papers. There’s a velvety pulse keeping the space next to you occupied while he’s elsewhere. Once Juyeon comes out of the canvas material; your eyes widen in terror, contrasting the melodic decoration of red velvet and wood.

Your conscious runs desperately from this room, but physical state is in the same seat.

Juyeon holds out a blue letter with your handwriting on it.

“I should’ve said it sooner, I’m sorry.” He says in that gentle tone he always speaks to you with. Maybe a soft arch at the end of the sentence. Nonetheless, you imaginary stabs the mind resting in your bone cradle.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You look at him once before turning to the empty seat and make an expression. One of deep second hand embarrassment that comes from the very narrow part of ‘me’ and sends like shivers.

“I understand.” Juyeon follows your movements, “You were not supposed to see that letter, they shouldn’t have been leaked.”

Worried you might have genuinely caused borderline trauma for the poor guy; you turn to him, “I’m really sorry.”

“No.” The corners of his lips turn into leaves of a red apple. His eyes clouds the color round the pupil and his height convulses barely as he leans into the seat.

Parts of us never veins, and in front of you, he’s the same boy who patted kittens and was deeply sad when they parted from their mother.

“I’m honestly very touched by it.” He admits.

He was back in his childhood home for the last week before semester. When folding the navy sheets of his old bed; his mother came up. A letter in her hand with turquoise color and bubble arch letters in pink ink. Already, it couldn’t be something written in ‘today’.

And Juyeon is truthful towards you. He read it on the train back home. Always oblivious but grateful nonetheless. Used the window like a passage to the time where you sat beside him on the bedroom floor.

“Really?” You say surprised.

He nods, “I’ve never gotten a love letter before.”

You would scoff and tell him he’s lying, but as his appreciative eyes blur with the blue envelope; you don’t.

“You know, I think you should join the writer’s club here on campus.” Juyeon smiles at you suddenly.

“What?” You lean away.

“Really.” His eyes shapes of honest o’s, “Like–of course there’s some grammar mistakes and you spelt ‘desperatly’ wrong, but you got the feeling!”

Still the same skeptical expression answers him back.

“I’m really serious Y/n.”

Own hands in your lap trail towards each other like opposite poles, “I’ll think about it.”

You watch how he timidly holds the edges and opens the envelope again. Lips shaped in pout like he wonders.

“Does it bother you if I keep it?” He asks.

Head shake, though still confused, “No, you can keep it.”

“Thank you.” He smiles endearingly and tucks it back between the papers and folders.

A revelation wasn’t as horrid as you thought. Hyunjae’s was deeply embarrassing, but there’s a brief space for contemptment in your heart where anxiety wandered before. Like a visual sight of the butterfly; you look up at the auditorium and ponder over the hidden connections.

You didn’t expect anything from Juyeon; that time has passed. But his now grown up presence seems to fulfill this daily life too.

“Did others get letters?” Juyeon breaks silence. Like always, his expression paints past the physical boundaries, and one could make out white lines of curious cat ears.

You figure he means the “they shouldn’t have been leaked”.

You nod and he tilts his head. Visual intrigue and anticipation from his seat, but you close off in rose pigment like tired flowers.

“I'd rather not tell you, it’s a bit embarrassing.” You laugh and Juyeon leans back, reassuring.

This anticipating silence doesn’t cease. It exists as a continuation, a ‘more’ before the ‘end’. One person can’t seem to leave the edge undiscovered, rather, you wait for the red thread to tie its last loop.

“You know Eric has been looking for you? He seems to miss you a lot.” Juyeon finally says. Tone serious than anything else that left his lips.

A stone grows between your throat, not acid. There’s no dissolving, just constant aching as you try to move.

Juyeon continues to talk as you’re silent, “I don’t know what it is, but he’s very understanding…”

He pauses, “...and you know, cause you know him better than I do.”

04 . CHAPTER FOUR

( tuesday, morning )

“Where’s the psychiatrist?”

“At the library.”

“No, I can’t talk to Juyeon anymore.” He groans.

To drift from the flat roofs outside the window; Eric looks at Sunwoo, further the beige walls. Sunwoo’s head is deep tucked beneath the bedding; Eric crawls over from his own bed to the end of Sunwoo’s. When the weight leans towards Sunwoo’s feet, he closes the pink envelope and lets the navy sheets hide it. The cover comes off Sunwoo’s head by Eric. His face like the moon causes an eclipse over the sun and Sunwoo stares unenchanted back at it.

“Y/n still haven't answered my messages, it’s been like three weeks!” Eric forces the pillow down.

“I wouldn’t answer you either.” Sunwoo pats bedding over his chest while Eric throws the pillow at his side.

They just became friends at the end of the last semester and decided to room for this year. As one’s social circles opens up in double doors whenever Eric comes; your name was one of the first he heard. Sunwoo immediately leaned intrigued at the name, but figured it was just a mere coincidence. He was bound to grow from youth and twine old names with new faces.

Either way, destiny doesn’t exist, and he won’t take a bait from the universe. Though, Sunwoo threaded over that principle the week before uni started. He worked at the old summer camp and a letter came during the closing week.

“To Sunwoo”, nothing else. Curiosity took the best of him and he opened the letter to see “From Y/n'' at the end of a massive paragraph.

The universe got him this time, he admits. In how many positions has he reread the letter and dreamt of the yellow filtered summer from when he was thirteen. In truth he reminiscenced about you those summer’s after. Once reaching adulthood, he realized there was no point in yearning, it’s been years. But this late season has turned into the car ride home from that camp, still with you in vision, so close but not here.

At this point ‘Y/n’ feels like a mere fragment of his imagination; therefore he wont tell. Keep your name from any seekers and contemplate.

After laughter; Eric plummets to the bed and looks up at the ceiling, feeling Sunwoo’s legs at his elbow.

“I just don’t understand why she can’t talk to me.” He murmurs.

“Did anything happen?”

Only Juyeon knows about the letter Eric received from his best friend. A confession he has longed for since he lived in his castle (big house), but never would be granted.

Eric thought their connection was stronger than this. Why did you send it if you weren't seeking answers? Why now, this place at this time?

He has traced every curve of your letters; stared at facebook and mail box. Even the refrigerator at night for answers.

Though everything the roommates did this summer; Eric can’t tell him, not yet. It’s the luminous memories coming to his ruins. Sunwoo is his presence.

Silent melancholia climbs above the horizon together with the bleeding sun at the football field. Lines of the goals, rigid and angular, separate the pink-orange growing fragments. Breeze from east colds your heated heart while waiting on the bleachers for Hyunjae.

You were forced to wake up; not following the united routine of the dormitory when he needed help for a training pass at dawn. But he’s not in sight.

Half asleep leaning on the backpack, center of your lap; waiting for something holy to run past.

World’s colors fade into abstraction behind the pupil and a small figure crosses the field. You don’t notice how it leaves the red tracks, closer to the bleachers. Same breeze that touched you passes through its shirt and by mere coincidence. He turns his head opposite from the sunrise and sees you lone illuminated.

Sunwoo recognises the person despite different clothing. There’s an unconscious underlying characteristic in posture. Sunwoo has been entranced by his own world, but he did think a lot of the pretty girl who fell drunk out of the entrance at Jeno’s party.

Slowly his feet take him further from the white lines.

“You’re okay?” His voice tears the plaster away from your vision.

To look up from the bleacher, a ruler higher than the green grass, they make eye contact. It takes a pattern of blinking but at last you speak.

“What?”

“I saw you at the party last Friday, I just wonder if you’re okay?” He repeats.

A sort of second hand deja vu like nausea, spreads from the visual, coming back. Forces the parallel expression to the feeling, down and instead scratches your head.

“Oh.” Eyes widen, “Yeah, I’m okay now, thanks.”

Solitude pushes down into the field with the next breeze. The two of them linger in the same place though the conversation seemed to have ended long ago. You who tie eyes on the far tower of the male dormitory, look back towards him. He stands with barely knit eyebrows, two meters away. It’s not an uncomfortable stare whatsoever, rather curious as the sun rising above the world.

You smile, “You’re trying to place me…”

Trying destiny runs through him but nonetheless he’s taken by the sudden realization. You see how the expression unravels and a single shooting star passes the brown coloration of his left eye.

“You’re Y/n; Y/n from summer camp?”

You don't react as quickly and are now left blaring into the past and present and the same time.

“We went kayaking together, don’t you remember?” He points at himself, “I’m Sunwoo.”

The star falls in east and transcends pink orange shine throughout the campus. For a second; you would have fallen from first row down the grass field with knees bruised of embarrassment, but just in time, you realized that the address written on the letter wasn’t his, just the camp.

“Sunwoo?” Your posture folds higher to come into view with his own. Truly there’s exciting nostalgia within.

“I didn’t know you went here.” You say slowly.

“Me neither.” Sunwoo laughs.

While in awe over the struck of fate; eyes momentarily drift to the right. Another shadow cuts through the horizon and appears closer while jogging across the field. All light still shines in your eyes while standing up. They come in equal footing and quietly watch each other. He looks over behind and sees Hyunjae. Sunwoo doesn’t quite feel like leaving yet; wished they were stored a moment longer.

His arms just barely lifts off his sides to embrace you, but the sharp sequence of Hyunjae and you strikes him at the spinal cord. Not wanting to disrupt your relationship again.

You’re left with wide eyes as Sunwoo runs off the direction he appeared from.

“Bye Y/n, see you around!”

It all just played as if at two times speed. One hand lifts to wave from your side of the world while the last strands disappear beyond the goals.

By peripheral vision, Hyunjae traces Sunwoo. Once more, there’s a torturous sensation growing between marrow bone and heart. When you look his way he feels your eyes held down on him only.

“You never take water with you, Ice God.”

While still a meter across, you throw the water bottle to him and he captures it perfectly. Hyunjae looks up with eye-framed windows like staring at the sun.

“You’re close with Sunwoo?”

Your bag falls to the ground, “We went to summer camp together, I didn’t know he studied here.”

Briefly nod while his bag too comes down the grass. You lucid leaning onto the bleachers again–until Hyunjae starts sprinting in one place. The end strands of his hair in parallel motions and his child-like smile shine between the pauses.

“Let’s run.” He says.

“I have a volleyball match later.” Back falls to the second and third row as you complain.

He laughs and takes your wrist, “Running helps with stress.”

White ribbons knitted along the green corners; they jog the red track field and do a few rounds. Each passage closest to the bleachers you see the shadows diagonally downgrade across the seats.

Despite having their lungs barely reaching air; Hyunjae persists in conversation. It presses from Earth towards your upper body as you unconsciously choose words before steps. But Hyunjae too seems incredibly out of breath for someone that trains as much as he does.

You won’t admit it just yet–if ever–that his company is actually enjoyable.

He lingers across the sport’s center until the shift has ended, and talks to you in insignificant states. In one way; your long shadow at the end of your feet feels guilty. An idea of a self serving dude with too much attention. In truth; he laughs a lot.

“When’s the game?” Hyunjae asks as their feet come out of synch.

They stand still catching breath.

“At three.” You sigh and start walking to the bleachers.

“Then, I’ll skip this lesson.” Hyunjae stands next to you.

He takes out the water bottle you gifted him. Presence from your side lingers on him as he drinks, and he raises his eyebrows at the long look.

“You don’t have to come though.” The lines above eyes cross in a slight perplexed X.

“You were at my game last time, I should come to.” Hyunjae smiles gently.

( tuesday, afternoon )

“Need to go to the toilet; nervousness makes me pee.”

‘21’ in bold font disappears behind the bended wall. You direct towards people in fitted shirts as patterns before the teal walls.

It’s not usual for you to be nervous before games; nor to be completely absorbed by else’s. Now you’re unconventionally a bit more dreamy. The halo in your eyes, up at the sky and shoulder’s slack as if moon-touched. Your teammates pointed it out too when you didn’t answer after ‘Y/n!’.

Sunwoo reentered your life this morning. The boy that had caused such a heartbreak it was unbelievable. And despite your time changes, you found yourself counting the star constellations he told you that summer.

This sort of unending chase starts again, that the letters dated to the old camp will find its way to him. Like a foolish child's secret.

You also wonder why Hyunjae was so persistent on going to your match. One could thread through the interactions and guess he’s become comfortable in your life too. But there’s a brief self reflection. You neither rejected him to come or encouraged. Maybe you want someone up on the bleachers shouting your name, even if it’s not Eric.

Wooden floor reflects the studio lights like water. Eyes wanders immediately from teammates up to the bleachers. Blue plastic seats on row, to the very windows where it barely collides with the roof. There’s a few silhouettes in groups up on the high rows. Everyone waving their hands to someone, not you.

When you see number 21 stop before the white line and bring her arm high up to one standing; you suddenly regret not messaging Eric. Though, just as fast; he maybe wouldn’t even have showed up?

One loud whistle comes from the left; your head directs off the green line tracing vertically. Sees teammates reach their hand out for you to the ring building at the side of the rectangular room. On the opposite, mirrors like theirs in green shirts, they gather.

Thin water like bubbles trace down the narrow row from your temples. All these bubbles that have accumulated beneath the shirt, down knees and threading your throat like a transparent necklace.

Once the last whistle soars across ceiling; you return to the corner of teammates. Someone touches your arm while running for water; a teammate smiles sincerely but exhausted.

When shoes are in line with the white painted diagonal; your name chants above all noise. From the floor, your eyes see Hyunjae coming down the blue seats. You aren’t able to reiterate his name before arms of his own wrap around shoulders.

The invincible spot of cologne sits beneath his shoulder blade. Evoking gently as your chin, supported by the broad shoulder. You hesitantly hug him back and try to look at his face but only reaches his ear.

Suddenly you feel a bit insecure.

“I’m really sweaty, Hyunjae.” You laugh awkwardly.

“Yeah,” His hands retrites without walking back.

Lips curve to gentle his face and the eyes like porcelain.

“, and it fits you.”

A strand falls before your eyes; tucked in by his hands like a dove’s wing.

Once the match heat flush red, another round of pigment paints your cheeks. There’s no hinder above your eyes left, but still you shake your head and cough; all while Hyunjae still smiles.

“Thank you, Jaehyun.”

His expression, more blinding than the long lights above. It’s impossible to not curl up before. You have a certain love for looking away when adoration blooms like spring season on him. Somehow you seemed to have missed when he came to the bleachers too.

It’s quiet, but Hyunjae still feels like hearing your voice.

He starts, “You did grea-”

“Y/n!”

A voice so deeply teared apart and assembled within your mind, that it exists stored in the furthest corners. There’s a certain nerve created just to react to that tone fall, you believe.

With eyes widened and fingers loosen from each other; you pierce towards the blue door. People still run past your double vision, but for a second the world stopped.

Eric stands with hands in the blue frame. The universe must’ve heard that wish you prayed before, and in some way, full of relief and exhaustion, you’re happy it did. Eric is visually as hesitant as you, bearing fear and soft in heart pulses.

“Sorry, Hyunjae, it’s something important.” You jog up to the double door determined. With one last glance to the bleachers, “See you later! …Thanks for coming!”

Confinement exists excruciating; you hoped it was just the sunbleached walls with square hole windows that trapped them. But not even the open atmosphere, heaven to the infinite universe could save them from what’s been left unsaid.

Eric asked while passing doors “I have messaged you for two weeks, why didn’t you answer?”. You could only look at him for a second before turning to the open field. His expression begs of confusion, but truly you think he knows why.

It’s silent. Wind from east campus brushes between the grass. You become the only thing stagnant along the heavy constructions weighing down on Earth as Eric walks up the bleachers. Blue faded denim pockets console his hands as he holds sight on his converse before white plastic.

“You didn’t even tell me you had a game today.” He refuses to make eye contact.

Head falls low; everythings to remind you that guilt is the heaviest matter on Earth.

Theoretically, it’s supposed to be useless feeling alone or unloved with a person like Eric. Sometimes you catch yourself staring in mirrors to search for another pair of eyes. But it’s hard to be miserable when Eric’s been a phone call away.

It was lonely without you, but I pushed you away.

“I’m sorry.” You finally say.

It’s the only thing you get out as you walk up the bleachers. Together on the second row; they watch the green grass and its maroon building boxes. A mellow sun on the edge of disappearing while the land continues flat forever. A wind of different temperature while the concrete still radiates warmth.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you Eric.” You speak again.

Their shoes in different font over the white row; you look at them before his side appears in the same position as you. They make eye contact in what feels timeless and it trips on your heart.

“I was-”

“It’s oka-”

There’s silence as they stare at each other; anticipating the other. Though the ink period of the passage becomes laughter as their shoulders collide like the southern and north pole. It ends up being Eric who speaks.

“You’re forgiven.” He smiles and Earth sighs of relief with you.

The two poles of their angular edge bind them gently. North and south diasporas sit in silence, whispers of the flat city come from all directions and it smells like grass or nothing in particular.

A closed connection where everything flows freely without hinder; you had nearly forgotten about that feeling.

Courage drapes whatever embarrassment was left in you. To breathe in before honest confession. That you love him deeply still, though any romanticized visions are of the past.

As you think of it; a part of the old self frees and runs with you back towards the grass field.

“I actually like you too, Y/n.”

It hitches in your throat.

“You don’t have to answer yet.” His smile reeks of cotton candy, and the hand on her shoulder before he leaves radiates in puddles like theme parks.

“I’ll wait for you, princess!” Eric shouts with his hand in his pockets before turning his back. The same nickname he’s called you since seven, never understanding why.

The stark contour of the real world fades as he disappears towards the dormitory until he’s just a mere dot.

It’s still warm, but summer has made one privileged. You feel like wearing a jacket as your old self now takes the empty space beside.

05 . CHAPTER FIVE

( thursday, afternoon )

Ji Changmin has never been great at sport, and that’s never with a big N. Last night the breaking news of a 2 day beach party got delivered by the infamous friend group, and of course, everyone would be playing the mandatory volleyball games.

Changmin took his backpack and ran, hoping Eric would be too busy arguing with someone else to notice the empty chair. But at last, Changmin walked up the dormitory corridor with Eric hanging from his left calf like chained. Desperately begging that it wouldn’t be the same if everyone doesn’t come.

One thing led to the other and every dorm heard a passing march of footsteps to the other end. Changmin was running after Eric whilst he screamed of absolute terror (traumatized from the year before when changmin chased him down the campus, drunk). In a last attempt of escape; Eric jumped Juyeon’s room and made a borderline olympic leep down the bedding before Juyeon processed the door had been opened.

Like the unofficial therapist he is; Juyeon told Changmin he has a friend in the volleyball team that can teach him this afternoon so as to not embarrass himself completely.

And that’s how you stand in the same hall; wide eyed and chills growing like rose stems it might strangle you. Though, you could’ve been more embarrassed as Changmin looks about the same.

With an aggressive tilt to your shoulder while eyelids reach your eyebrows; a firm stare directed at Juyeon. Quietly it signals “what the fuck didn’t you tell me it was Changmin?!”.

He doesn’t get it.

“...and he’s really bad.” Juyeon ends while smiling.

“I’m not that bad.” Changmin side eyes the taller one; also in search for some backup.

“Yes, you are silly.” His eyes crease in turn with the ends of his lips. From the right side, his hands come up to ruffle the sprout of Changmin’s head.

All three compiled the net up. You had no interest in bringing up the letter for either Changmin or Juyeon; therefore you rigid and pale served the first shot.

But thankful for Juyeon’s excitement and obliviousness (surprising) to the reunion he just set up; the tension wore off Changmin’s shoulder and your pigments returned.

All would rotate between the two sides of the net. You would purse lips to a thin line and turn the plastic of your shoes on the hard floor before running up to Changmin to show him how to serve. At first you stood a little less than a meter behind him; shoved gestures in the air to somehow manipulate his own body to do the same movements. But at last you went up to him, held his hand like gentle rain.

There was not a bruise or patterns of shades on his palms. Either he’s absolutely addicted to hand cream or those text books of his must enchant his skin while turning pages.

Changmin felt fragile like all ancient history when you showed him. He tried to be quiet, shyly only talking to Juyeon, but couldn’t help but let out shrieks every time he missed or won. It was just like board games at the dinner table when their parents whispered in the other room.

You suddenly shout, “Move!”

Juyeon’s on the opposite side of the two and forced the ball up to the roof with neck breaking power.

You see how Changmin doesn’t; instead glued to the floor with knees rigid and his hands come up in chest length as if it will save him. You desperately swing your shoulder to the right, but all actions are in vain when their foreheads collide. Force acts up on them and leads them to the ground. Swear it was visible stars circling both heads.

As the collision wears off and presence hits you as a second impact; terrified you watch Changmin between own two arms down the floor. Legs have his stomach tied to the flooring;

where in all directions you are. And when they both blushes of embarrassment; Changmin’s hands come a little higher up his chest.

“You’re supposed to chase the ball.” You stutter and hastily push up from him but miserably fails as the clothing material slips on the floor.

“I’m sorry-”

Changmin, just as terrified, apologizes while pushing himself off the floor. One way and two directions; they shut their eyes painfully as the point between their eyebrows hit each other again. One step further down his stomach.

“You didn’t even tell me we had started.” Changmin complains and holds his forehead, looking at Juyeon who climbs under the net.

You slide off him; knees supporting any weight while at the end of his calves. Great silence from the tunnel system in the high ceiling expands over the yellow walls. It scratches in their throats that you cough. It was enough to crack the tension layered like a glass dome.

“I don’t feel the same, Y/n.” Changmin sits up.

“Yeah, I know.” You sigh because you know what he means without asking. Fingers left racing the floor.

“Old story; you were not supposed to get it, I’m sorry.” Guiltily purse lips in, “Also, sorry for falling on you.”

Suddenly gentle, his legs come over in crisscross and he leans closer to your figure.

“Yeah…it’s fine.” He confirms in same tone, “Though, I appreciate it. The letter.”

He pauses.

“...I had no idea.” Changmin admits.

You laugh, “Really? I was super obvious.”

“You think so?” He skeptically smiles.

To bring your arms to an imaginable table and articulate, “I literally held my arms over the textbooks to lean over to you..”

“I just thought you were a bad listener.” Changmin smiles, bothered, like he always does.

They both laugh.

Another shine made by the sun outside draws with a ruler down the yellow wall. It has an angular cut in where it has a darker wooden frame just above the floor. Like the highlight is a window to the midsummers of one’s childhood; you dare to hold eyes open and watch.

They used to sit at the dining table where the pattern cloth folds at your knees. Because you were way too shy to invite him behind your room door. Sometimes, laughs loud enough for them to hear came from the living room where both their mom’s sat. Mostly they whispered; never understood why.

When they were younger, he was mostly intimidating. So much taller and just his glasses felt like a sign of great intelligence. But truly his personality held some sort of shine you believed was a leftover from some ancient spell along the yellow fields.

With their families having dinner sometimes; the two of them used to play board or card games late into the afternoon when the adults still sat along the dinner table. You didn’t want to invite your brother when you finally had time to talk to Changmin without it being about math, but he was way too nice to leave him out.

“Is your cat good?” Changmin asks suddenly, “Or is he dead?” He knits his eyebrows.

“Yeah, he’s dead.” Smiles and thinks of how Scuba Steve, in his orange white complexion used to jump into Changmin’s lap while he was tutoring. And when he talked to him so sweetly and petted him along the long fur; her teenage self used to dream about their future (delusion).

“It feels like he liked everyone more than me.” You admit while leaning into your palm.

“I’m sure he liked you too.” He laughs.

“Are you going to the beach party?” Changmin suddenly asks, “You’re close with Eric, right?” He knits his eyebrows, “Aren’t you together with Jaehyun too?”

“No, no, no, I’m not with Jaehyun.” You fall back to the floor and hands melt down your face.

“Don’t tell him I said that though.” You add, “But no, I’m not going.”

“Why not?”

Visions from the past weeks pass like a bad trailer and you close your eyes. Sunwoo and Eric run across the field in a sort of evangelical light and Hyunjae in the far corner.

You sort of lie, “It’s complicated. I don’t want to meet Eric.”

Changmin stands up, “I’m only going if you do.”

“Don’t do this.” You complain.

“No, whatever’s going on, we’re fixing it now.” He takes your shoulder and forces you up. You whine again and try to make the weight fall back to Earth.

“I’m fighting volleyball and you’re fighting Eric, great!” He cheers.

There was a lot more than Eric you had to fight this weekend.

The ball goes flying in their direction again. It lands on Changmin’s head and forces his glasses to the floor. They both look to the right and see Juyeon stand awkwardly upright, hands hanging like leaves as he longs for the ball.

“I missed.” He deadpan.

You take the ball and look at Changmin. He smiles knowingly before you both rush at Juyeon.

( friday, morning )

“Do you want some?”

Your head turns to the right where the sun shines through the glass brighter. It ceases through the back of his loose strands like the tree crowns from summer camp.

When you came down to the bus station, Changmin waved at you from a stack of backpacks piled like a mountain. Juyeon stood slightly behind and followed the shoerter’s movements. You asked them if they plan on moving with that; Changmin answered it was Juyeon’s and Eric’s bags. He had–while straightening his posture–just taken the necessary.

When all had arrived, you got a third row seat at the back beside Sunwoo. You had met again on campus. It turned out between all those words that both were going to the party this weekend. You mentioned how you’re mainly here as Changmin’s emotional support.

Sunwoo– a little horrified– told you he’ll have eyes in the back of his neck for this trip. Hyunjae, Eric or anyone else for that matter could come up from behind and throw hsi poor body in the water. With both in desperate situations, they jokingly built a pact to have each other’s back on this trip.

So when you sit beside Sunwoo, and look down the space created against the armrest where he reaches out a pink package. He shakes it and you smile before taking a hand off the backpack.

“You stole my pocky?”

Tearing away from that space; they look behind the red seat to see Eric leaned over the two. He pierces down at Sunwoo with a dumbfounded O of his lips and starts pointing at the roots of Sunwoo’s hair which he ducks away from.

“I didn’t steal it.” He defends.

“It’s mine, I bought it this morning.” Eric looks at you, begging for sympathy, “Now I have no snacks.”

“You said you weren’t going to eat them.” Sunwoo hides them.

“They’re mine!” Eric hangs down the seat. Immediately you take the edge of his sleeve as if he’ll fall on you.

“You’re gonna eat them now?” Sunwoo taunts, “Take the jelly grapes.” He throws out a plastic package from his bag while still chewing.

“Let’s split it.” Eric deadpans while holding out his palm.

“I’ll buy you one later.” Sunwoo repeat.

Eric laughs from above, “You literally just asked Y/n!” He points.

Sunwoo gets quiet for a second; looks up et Eric, before back at Y/n.

“Can’t you just eat the grapes?” He shakes the package up in Eric’s face.

Feet fall back to the floor, the row behind them and Eric, still dumbfounded, points at Sunwoo while stunned searches for assent in you.

“He’s shameless.” Eric sits down.

Where the dense complexes only ends when shore starts, the bus ride isn’t long. Despite constant traffic, conversations over the unconscious roaring of the bus engine; you resisted the falling weight of eyelids but at last, gave in. The last minutes when blue hues start to form between the windows and houses lined up against the sand. Head falls onto Sunwoo’s shoulder.

Changes surprises him, but just as immediately he gently falls back into his seat and your head comes between his neck like the last piece of a 100 puzzle. How could he describe the violent but gentle flutter that grows from a part in his chest and blooms into all directions. And when each stem leaves its youth and creates rosen petals at his fingertips; the playlist in his headphones changes song.

A melody of 80s slow paced rhythm and a voice soft like silk; lies over the muted woven chorals and yellow of the beach houses. Tiny flowers in perfect composition, like a trail across each street and when he sees the roof of the largest beach houses, just below the shore; Sunwoo wishes the bus would take one more round.

He dares to look down. He has seen this image before. All those movie nights in the dining room at summer camp evening. When he rushed to take the seat beside you before anyone else. And towards the end of the long hour you couldn’t keep your eyes open and leaned just like now, on his shoulder. It’s been so long but it doesn’t feel like a season has passed since that summer when he sees your hand lightly touching his own.

“You need sunscreen, Jaehyun!” You wave the blue plastic tube while slipping down the sand. Hyunjae looks over his shoulder, smirking questionably to her while you come closer.

“You’ll get skin cancer.” You squint when the blue sky shines behind him.

“You do it then.” He smiles.

Holding hands above your eyes, hoping it’ll cease all rosen blushes, “I’m not your mom.”

“Please, Y/n.” He shakes your forearms, pouting. At first your own hands come up to his chest to force him off, but retrites like touching a hot stove as he’s shirtless.

“Okay, okay.”

Overarching sand, up to the wooden porch, frees from the rest when they walk up. Hyunjae quickly takes the lead when he jumps up on fixed ground and takes a seat on the edge of the porch. How he wiggle his legs like an excited child while smiling so brightly; you didn’t know he could. You fall to knees behind him and awkwardly look over his hair.

“Can’t you just do it yourself?” Sun highlights his skin from above. The sharp points of his shoulders, down to his arms, seem soothing against the sharp sand. That specific smell of sunscreen, so deeply ingrained into summer, trace along the porch. Your palm hesitantly moves back and forth between the flexed spot of his shoulder.

“Just do it, Angel.” Hyunjae looks back at you encouragingly, but you quickly lie the cold sunscreen on his skin to divert him. In the clear summer sun spotlight, your cheeks luminates of struck pink.

“Ah, it’s cold.” Hyunjae’s shoulder rises up and you continue soothing it in one hand.

“Don’t complain.” You try to sound normal.

They got along more than you originally thought. Hesitant to calling people friends, but you guess that's what they are. Though, friends shouldn’t blush of nervousness from innocent touch, right? Especially when Hyunjae leans back further into your hand, and you wonder if it’s wrong.

At the same time; Eric peeks from the doors to the beach house. He tries to convince himself he’s longingly looking at the open shore, but it’s merely a background to Hyunjae and you.

It’s not that you’re lying, he thinks. You looked more than authentic that day, he asked if they were together and you denied. It’s not a competition, but still he feels a burn coming from another direction than the sun when your hands go to his neck and Hyunjae laughs from tickling.

“Y/n!”

You turn from Hyunjae and see Eric coming closer. All that in one motion, you forgot about the painfully obvious red of your face. It isn’t until Eric’s eyes widens and he falls in height to take your left cheek.

“You’ve burned yourself, Y/n.” Eric traces with his thumb the rose colors of your essence and to feel it coming off your skin, embarrassingly paint your soul. At this point, nervousness would leak out from your skin, but by Eric’s and Hyunjae’s wide eyes and open mouths; they’re completely oblivious to their work.

“N-” Stuttering out the beginning of a no; you stop suddenly as there’s no good excuse for the color.

“Let me help you.” Hyunjae reaches for the tube down the wood and you immediately try back from Eric’s gentle palms.

“No, no, no, it’s just heat.”

“Water.” Eric wants to get you on foot, take you to the kitchen.

“You need a cold bath.” Hyunjae says quickly after and without looking at Eric takes you in bridal style. Hand lets go of Eric’s and he’s left standing as you in panic tries to convince Hyunjae to turn away from shore. Hyunjae laughs while shouting that you’ll overheat.

It’s a dark seemingly normal, but guilty jealousy Eric watches the older one throw his best friend down the water. You’re quick on your feet again, and start chasing Hyunjae further down. Laughs come from that side while Eric tears his eyes off the new waves; clench his fist because frustration might visibly leak out his skin, and turn back to the house to take his mind off.

It was only a limited amount of sups, you shared one with Changmin. They had agreed to alt the paddle in interval, but it was you who ended up dragging them both along the surface while Chnagmin sat behind, criticizing the solo sups.

His victim was mainly Juyeon who traversed the first ocean layer for a good minute playing God until he lost balance. The entire group laughed while he tried to climb up. At the same time Sunwoo laughed so hard he was second to fall in.

Changmin did well, all things considered, when it was beach volleyball. Juyeon and you cheered on him. That brought him enough confidence to stand at the front. Which wasn’t his greatest moment as he fell head first into the net.

Sun’s, fleetly asleep above the horizon. All those hours of shine still left like a memory in the sand while four of them still play, the rest swimming, taken a seat with the group who grills or in the house. Laughter with the waves collide, creating a divide of foam. Breeze ensues their hearts.

It smells of garlic smoked marinade from behind once the ball comes over again. Though at first refusing to go, you’re still thankful for Changmin who desperately forced a game over either way.

Soon there’s food and you sit on the porch once again. Sunset like a filter over the shore and its houses, maybe the heart too.

“I have some for you.”

You look up at who you thought was Eric, with a brightly printed paper plate, gathered of the same choices since childhood. But you blink once, realize it’s Sunwoo. He takes the space beside where only vague music accompanied earlier.

“Oh, thank you, Sunwoo.” You smile and take the second plate.

“No worries.” He bends down to eat a bite of his own food.

A scenery in fleeting composition, scattered of dust passes through the peripheral.

“I remember you used to take food to me back then too.” Unconscious of the tender light you hold while tracing the oil leaking across plastic shine.

“Yeah,” He looks at his chicken, “Cause you were always busy sorting stones.”

You scoff, “Why? You’re judging my hobbies?”

“No,” He answer truthfully, “It was cute.”

“My stones?” You tilt.

“You.”

Sunwoo’s voice is monotone like it wasn’t supposed to blemish your heart like the orange and dark blue sky divide. The bones across your shoulders and hover over chest convulse in like wings of the delighting butterflies.

Sunwoo looks up from the food, “I don’t really remember how your stones looked.”

You smile and take a bite, “I guess that’s why I married you back then.”

Still confined between your own frame to prevent any sheer wings of escape; you miss how his ears perked up together with his horrible posture. Him in his sharp complexion becomes adorably curious.

“You remember that?” He says surprised.

“Of course.” She says as if it’s obvious. Sunwoo looks down at the sand as if to see the smitten reflection of his face in them.

“I actually didn’t think you’d remember.” He says quietly.

Another song on the playlist comes on and a group of people rush beside them. Jumping off the porch; their silhouettes darken in pink contrast as water evaporates on their burnt arms.

Sunwoo dares to look to your side; still eating and it further reminds him of times in circles when they sat next to each other. Something absurd with seeing you again like this. For some nameless reason you have lived all these years as a little girl in his memories, constantly visiting when summer’s approaching. Now you're here, finally at the same age.

He knows he shouldn’t advance, shouldn’t take a step closer on the porch. Since behind him just some meters further, Hyunjae sits. How adoringly he thinks of Hyunjae because he has you unconditionally by one side.

“I remember you told me about the stars.” You suddenly say.

Sunwoo looks at you then the skies, vaguely guilty that there's nothing's left to see yet.

He smiles, “Damn, I can’t see them, otherwise I would’ve told you about them again.”

You hold head tilted at his side while his eyes still squint for a light away to hit them, “You can show me later.”

You don't know what has crawled into you lately, but it’s dependent and has zero abstinence.

As if the hangover from last week wasn’t enough to convince you; you’re drunk once again (this time in the kitchen). Juyeon worriedly came over, asking if you’re always this bad with alcohol. In turn you took his shoulders dramatically and said no, shaking him.

And you weren't the only one. In the same vein, at another window by the house; Eric found Sunwoo staring dead into the reflection. When asked what he was doing, Sunwoo simply replied he’s staring at bird shit and laughing like it was the funniest thing.

Most people are still outside. Fairy lights might look like fireflies in this state as it cradles lightly from night weather. As people cross the sand it changes patterns. It lays a plastic cup further away which Eric runs to pick up. You don't know what song is playing when the high frame expands as walls in all directions, but you think it’s good.

“Can you dance?” You look at Sunwoo. He turns confusingly with bad posture from the bird shit. An awkward beat drop passage muffled by the walls takes the silence.

Suddenly you jump up to him in another rhythm than the beat. Smiles wholeheartedly while waving arms.

“I can’t.” You answer your own questions and do a spin.

Sunwoo’s hangs down its sides like towels over the branches. You reflect in highlights by his porcelain eyes. He must look extremely out of it as the pupils can’t concentrate on the shifting lights and his amused smile. But you couldn’t tell.

You force his tired arms up in an awkward rocking-back-and-forth swing. He laughs that his teeth show when you start complaining how he’s stiffer than the expensive couch behind them.

“Let’s tango.” You take his arms and they start circling around the room with either hand on their shoulders and next in each other’s clasp, straight forward. Sunwoo’s laugh overpowers the music as they nearly collide with the couch. Through the window frame they must look like a middle school couple.

And as if galactic alignment was truly divine; the next song on the playlist slows to a vintage soundtrack as if from an old romcom. They’re still laughing when the circles haste and all weight stills on the carpet lining.

They’re so drunk, Sunwoo can’t hold himself when your face comes so close.

“You know…” He starts.

“No.” You deadpan.

“Don’t speak.” Sunwoo complains and you fall one step backwards from laughing.

“You know, we’ve reached our 11th marriage anniversary.” He smiles drunkenly, “I think I deserve a kiss for surviving our long distance.”

“You haven’t even shown me the stars yet.” You whine and curl his hand in a weird way.

“I know, I know.” He screws his eyes, it looks like it hurts.

“Just give me a kiss and we’ll go outside.” He purses his lips out.

“Can you even name the constellations still?” You knit your eyes.

“Of course, there’s Little bear.” Sunwoo points at your nose. You contract your head and watch his finger tip with big eyes.

“I’m actually a Capricorn.”

Sunwoo’s lips curve harder as his head falls between the space created from their chests. You watch the root pattern of his hair before he comes up again.

“You’re really cute.” He smiles.

You can’t help clasp his hands and twine fingers even harder, “Really?”

He nods that his fringe follows.

“Am I cute too?” Sunwoo asks, leaning in.

You think, rolling your eyes slowly, “No.”

He pouts with big eyes.

“Again,” He flicks your nose lightly.

“Me or the flowers?” Sunwoo points at a vase beside the couch. You turn over your shoulder to see the arrangement of pink blemishes with white roots.

You pretend to think, “Hmm.”

There’s a anticipation like a butterfly on the last leaf, flickering its sheer patterned wings before taking off. Just like that, it pulses of thousand wings in both your hearts. All as Sunwoo lean in closer. Fingers laced through the other like silk and he pulls you closer by them. When the heat accumulated in the chests collide, with your lips merely touching his own. The tension weighs heavy, it might impend on the room.

The door from the kitchen beside them forces open.

Both Sunwoo and you loosen the lace and throw yourself onto the couch. A painful thud erupts from the back rest when Sunwoo crashes nape first. Your condition is in dangerous state, therefore you land about 10 centimeters too short and glide off the couch to the floor.

When the outer door closes and Eric passes by the frame, he sees Sunwoo decked out; arms hanging lifelessly and his mouth opened, supported by the backrest.

The cup in his hand nearly topples over when he rushes to stand it on any flat surface. It pulses through the floor when Eric comes down to you. A cold hand from all the ice soothes your forehead and you look up to see Eric’s fringe like a sheer curtain before his eyes.

“You’re okay?” He asks worriedly, “How much have you drunk?”

Eric takes your arm and scolds you gently. As you stand up you incoherently try to defend yourself, but quit abruptly as Sunwoo comes into the story.

Eric guided you up to the bedroom’s at second floor, leaving Sunwoo to die.

“Eric?” You lie down.

“Mm?” He flatten out the sheet above you.

“I forgot.”

Eric snorts, “Really?”

“Mm.” You insist.

Two essence divided between the mattress line in the mit; still staring at the same ceiling. Eric never leaves your side; instead insists on talking about nothing and everything while time wraps in a 4th dimension of one's mind until you can’t rhetorically answer “Mm?”.

Eric finally ceases to babble when shifting his head to your side. The pillows bud like a flower on his cheek when his body completely draws to your field. He knows you will probably feel like shit tomorrow morning, but for now you lie neatly above the creases like white flower of a heaven’s cross field.

The incredible magnetic field of your essence seems to draw in more admirers than just himself, Eric understands. He barely convinces himself that the letter is an eventual sign of their destined love, but just barely.

I can’t know who you dream about as you sleep soundly right now, he thinks while admiring. A face or two flashes before him and Eric sits up. Quietly look at the framed picture on the wall before back down at you.

For now, he’s in denial.

Eric takes one hand off your side to lay on your stomach. His bare fingertips dare to soothe out nothing’s on the cheek just to feel your warmth. He hesitates for a second, but before fully walking off the bed and closing the door; he bends down to kiss your cheek, just gently.

06 . CHAPTER SIX

( monday, midday )

The day has finally come–or not come as in an anticipated date set in stone from the past–rather Hyunjae woke up and felt courage. The last weeks they’ve seen each other nearly every afternoon, and for each time he imagines himself having persuaded you a little closer. And the last beach party seems to have been the silver lining for his confidence to finally confess how he feels.

This afternoon they will meet on the track field for some regular training, but what you don't know is that he will be asking you to be his girlfriend, seriously this time.

Though, between the lecture times, staring at strangers from the row tables; he consciously realized he doesn’t quite know what you like. Or of course, he knows you like astrology, biology, cat’s, exercising but just enough that you can walk guilt free home to the bed. That you always walk around with a first aid kit, and like a mother bandage burnt skin or wrecked ankles.

But none of that is of use when your heart is supposed to flutter at his mere sight this afternoon.

So at a table in the cafeteria; Hyunjae takes the opposite chair of a round table where Eric sits alone. Enticed in his own world; he jumps when the chair creaks of his weight.

Hyunjae figured it was just to ask Eric, your best friend for advice. The older may stand a ruler inferior in emotion to Eric than Juyeon, but nonetheless they have spent many house parties together, jumping off the high roof or throwing pillows at the third.

Eric always looks at him with a smile, nearly identical to his own. But right now, the red blisters' contours wave lower than what it usually does. His eyes adverts between the sad glass divide over the sandwiches and Hyunjae. But the older forces it in an identical manner to the left.

Eric nonchalantly told him he doesn’t know what you would romantically like from him. Hyunjae complained saying he should know since they’re best friends, but Eric reiterates his line, “Yeah, just friends.”

Hyunjae doesn’t cease from the chair, neither his voice. Eric looks at the sandwiches again and guilty bruises his fingers underneath the table. In Eric’s eyes; Hyunjae could win over anyone by just slowly articulate every crook of their name.

It’s not to admit that he’s threatened, Eric thinks. To rationalize the frustration he theorize Hyunjae hasn’t taken enough of a time to get to know you.

Eric’s never been evil. His moral compass holds him on the sane lane; even when emotions begs to pull the other way. But right now, while in silence, the magnetic field of the Earth pulls on the arrows.

“Okay.” Eric puts down the drink. Hyunjae leans in attentively.

“She wants a big, HUUGE confession. You know, those in rom coms where the guy comes out with a huge boombox and gives her flowers and has a big sign.” Eric takes his arms up in the, above his chest in height with his hair. To visually stun him he waves his hands down like confetti and shakes a hypothetical boombox. All while Hyunjae’s expression all visually gets more nervous.

“Okay.” He walks up without looking at Eric. Head deep down the floor as if thinking.

( monday, afternoon )

The white streaks wrapped as a present lining across the field is the same as every time he walks past. But even when the scenery is familiar to his conscious, the heart anxiously breathes in quick patterns. It causes invincible scratches at the inner side of his hands while his eyes can’t hold a scene for longer than a second. There’s a couple walking past the fields down the west campus; Hyunjae’s head follows them until their backs are a mere blemish along the sidewalk.

With his hand tightly knitted behind his back he looks at the grass growing up from under his shoes. Suddenly he looks up again.

Like the world just ended; the sun’s growing, tearing all the accessible and it rounds the golden halo. You’re just left in trance watching how it all beautifully collapses. That’s what your presence does to his troubled heart when your upper body comes up the staircase.

You wave with your free hand as you see him at the center of the rectangular land. Hyunjae doesn’t mirror it, instead refuses to change any position. You tilt your head in wonder for a moment, but nonetheless carry on towards his figure, until there’s just a meter across.

“Hi, Jaehyun.” You say gently.

“Hi, Y/n.” He shifts his head so that a part of hsi fringe falls forward.

You turn to see his side profile, as if he’s sick. With concerned woven shape of your face, you ask, ��Are you okay?”

An awkward tenderness in his fronting psyche. To touch his shoulder might cause it to splinter in its frozen preserved state. Hyunjae clasps his hands that’s still behind; gaze your face as if though you were the first he’s ever seen.

Silence insists to frustratingly exist after your question.

When a scene of the entire world, flipped in your eye; he breathes in and falls with one to the grass. His hand trails as if cold to the pocket and takes out his phone, turning the speaker outlet in your higher direction.

“Will you make me the happiest man in the world, Y/n?”

A bouquet in pastel silk tightly concealed in a ribbon of a darker shade.

“Hold on.” Hyunjae drops the mobile to the ground; the music practically disappears as it swallows by the grass.

All eyes on the thin space of his front pocket as he struggles to let loose the bits of red paper. At last some gather in his palm and he throws it up in the air as enthusiastically one can without a canon. The flowers now fully extended as the last bits of craft paper adorn his head.

A sore spot on his left knee aches under this weight. The teeth of his smile, slowly together as he bear witness to your expression, blinking cause your lips are opened but stunned. Though he can’t read good or horrible. As he starts tilting from instability he clenches the flowers tightly.

“I didn’t find a boombox, and the party store was closed.” Hyunjae looks behind you instead of up. Embarrassingly wonder if you would have wanted a grand confession in the college cafeteria. He won’t say it, but in all honesty he didn’t have the guts for that.

It feels like you’ve seen this scene before; in some movie lost to time, you’re sure it has crossed you once. The sad petals taken by the wind, fallen on his shoulders or thread beneath your feet. But still might be the most soft of all thousand interactions of your life.

Hyunjae seems embarrassed, you can’t fully tell; he looks at you from passages but sways towards the right at the end. How the past and present crashes at once to see him fully and clearly without cover. He’s such a vision that this should flutter all the lonely parts in the arch marrow body, but nothing goes off.

It’s like standing on the fourth of may, but no fireworks light up.

You finally smile gently, still eyes on Hyunjae. His expression waits for even a whisper, but instead a hand crosses between the fragile space. Yours takes his wrists, behind where the fingers cross the stems. Gently tugging him up from the grass as the last bits of paper rock down his shoulders.

“It’s really lovely, Jaehyun.” You smile and he’s finally up.

The space opens again.

“But I can’t.” You look at him as both lips synchronize withers.

“I’m sorry.”

A heavy wind brushes past; lies a weight on your hearts. Hyunjae, who has never once been the one pushed away, hears lone footsteps echo in the boned structure. It’s a bit embarrassing, it’s a bit sad; he feels like he maybe shouldn’t have said anything.

You see in full vision how his mind travels elsewhere. Still with flowers and the barely audible mobile that now has changed track to a mellow love song of 80s nostalgia. How depressing everything suddenly became.

“I still like you, Jaehyun,” You break the silence, “You were honestly a lot nicer than I originally thought.”

He looks up.

You smile weakly, “When I saw you on campus I thought you flirted with every woman and acted all big.” You gesture with your shoulders and Hyunjae laughs slightly.

“But you’re actually very kind.”

He reaches out the flowers once again. You look up at him with eyes, x-ed expression.

“It’s still your flowers, I want you to have them.” He says gently.

You hesitate but he shakes them in front of you. Once loosen on the tensioned shoulders; you take one hand out for the stems and look at them closely. Deeply pink with faded inner circles.

( wednesday, afternoon )

That table at the cafeteria where they always meet has been occupied two days in a row. You come by between classes and yearn through the window, but at last; there’s always a shirt in a color Eric wouldn’t wear sitting in his place.

At the changing distance through the evening, at the lone table beside your bed; all those papers in painful yellow highlight, tire sore eyes and vision yearns for the computer at the other side. Watch the letter box they communicate through everyday, but is now quiet.

You’ve messaged Sunwoo through facebook; asked him why Eric ceased from Earth. He answered through digital letters that he’s busy, but truthfully Sunwoo knows better than anyone Eric scatters to avoid you. Eric won’t fully admit why; the closest to a confession Sunwoo got was a bleak understanding of inner guilt over something.

“You’re sad.”

You turn to the left where Juyeon sits with curious eyes before the library shelves. Side by side at the communal computers; he has watched you stare at the search page for four minutes without intervention.

“Do you want to go and see the cats?” He asks gently.

You sink down on the table. Hands curl up at the keyboard while the wooden surface catches your chin.

“No, but thank you, Juyeon.” You say tired.

“Is it Eric?” He asks, leaning down.

You nod.

“I don’t want to hurt him, I’m afraid we won’t be friends anymore.” You pause, “I don’t want to hurt anyone else.”

“You should tell him that.” Changmin peaks from behind the computer, opposite you and Juyeon.

“Honesty is always valued.”

“You know, whatever it is..” Juyeon speaks from the right side, “at least having it said will lift the weight off. You have an assignment next week, right?” Juyeon points at the screen.

“Eric would make fun of you for worrying about boys instead of studying.”

You smile weakly.

07 . FINAL CHAPTER

( saturday, evening )

Edges of sharp stone scratches against your old bicycle. Those few streetlights with meters in between emits across the gravel. On the path from your old house, it was quiet like it always is in family neighbourhoods. But as you come closer to Eric’s old house; ruptures in form of music and laughter leak out the open windows.

You had to stay longer in the library working. Time passed like it never does when one’s bored, and suddenly you had missed the first train and waited for the other. It isn’t too far out your old neighbourhood, just a few stations that with each passing minute gets dimmer and dimmer because of lack of lining lamps.

Running the last passage to your front door to take the bike, and now you’re standing at his post. The same sign that hangs on the door, rusted of all year’s weather, intimidates you serenely.

At last, with one foot you force down the supporting metal where all other bikes stand. Close eyes on the handle while the laughter is still muted.

It has never felt so hard knocking on his door.

The blurred window at the roof of the door; you stare at it when finally knocking. Anticipation hugs your knees painfully as you take a step back. Look at all places except the white door. Drag your hands along the clothing fabrics as if it’ll obscure you.

Speakers frees from the door while you feel like running towards the woods.

“Welcome in!”

You don't recognize the man holding this door you’ve walked through since five. His expression contrasts your neutral one. There’s a red cup in his hand, he asks if you want some; you thank him, but reject.

As you come in line with each other through the hallway with mountains of shoes, you look at his back, insecure, before speaking.

“Do you know where Eric is?”

He turns, “Hmm..” Scratching his nape and leaning toward the opening frames of all the different rooms.

“I think he’s in the living room?” The guy points further into the apartment, you thank him.

Despite all open windows and meters of space; the air is horribly suffocating. People sit two and two, talk in five’s, and a path like pattern goes through the crowd. You let it take you, hoping it somehow brings you to Eric.

Your feet, that still have shoes on, cease to motion diagonally towards a large couch group. Between all those mere strange faces you’ve may seen once; a face so deeply dissected and remade sits in between. He’s at the center like the sun itself, and people gravitate towards him.

Somehow you would go back to your corner, sink down quietly. But you’ve been running for too long. Hand behind your back, wrists rope tied while your conscious threats to slaughter from behind, push you forward.

“Eric?” You say above the laughter, and his couch group turns towards you.

You swallow when his expression changes to something calmly unreadable, “I need to talk to you.”

A filter falls like a sheer cover of snow when he closes the door. They’re alone behind the house, blue illumination like an upside down universe highlights you from below. Neither Eric or you had said something, but it wasn’t noticeable until the world ran out of sound too.

Eric’s silhouette leaves your side and sits by the edge of the pool. With his barefoots into the galactic mirror, his face shades and colors like the moon. You too walk to the edge, sit by his side and see his legs make waves throughout the water.

He’s unfamiliarly quiet; similar to when you know something someone else doesn’t.

“I think I like someone, Eric.” You say gently without wasting.

He looks at you, soft and tender, “You do?” He smiles.

You smile too and nod.

His feet make water soar before becoming whole again. Your fingers tear at the concrete lining the pool.

“...and I’m not sure he likes me back…therefore it can’t be you.”

Heavy silence like the Universe itself weighs over them. World’s full of life, yet there’s an empty echo in the marrow arch of your cathedral body.

Eric gazes at the transparent surface of the water, smiling weakly because it’s the only thing right to do.

“Though, I still love you, Eric.” You lean towards his shoulder. Tear his side profile like you beg it is not the last time you see it.

“So much as you can possibly love someone, and a little more.”

He looks up, fringe falling, “It’s okay, I know.”

Voice fragile, so heartbreaking against the smile that could light up the entirety of the solar system. He’s like the pool beneath, a galactic universe tightly compacted into a pond.

His mere existence makes your eyes glisten and words frail, “I’m sorry.” You whisper.

He smiles and takes your wrist, “Why are you saying sorry, princess.”

They both sit there for a moment. The constellations pass a centimeter above the bended celestial before you walk up. Half disappear behind the wall while Eric is left at the pool edge. You can’t bring yourself to leave; having one eye on his back as if it'll fall when you go.

Eric looks back to your wall suddenly, like he knows.

“I’m sorry.” You say it again, nails exhaustingly tearing at the house.

Eric shakes his head, waving you off gently before speaking quietly, “Go get your prince.”

Stones shatter beneath the weight of two tires. All houses are drowned in nightshade glistens of warm lighted windows like the stars above, that is childhood.

Grass divided into squares lined with fences; streamline, down the gravel path until it opens up in a wide circle. You know this place because here’s where everyone always met.

All those gravel paths, identical to the one you just left maze down to a grass circle. The very heart of all these houses, a meter lower than the rest. You pass the path contouring it and all these strokes of green nature hinders you down. You stop with one foot off the pedal and lean your weight while standing up.

Where all distance creates a perfect cross; a boy much familiar to you lies. His own bicycle stranded a meter or two from his still body. Laying on his back with his head tilted on its forearms. Sunwoo’s completely still like midnight around him. It calms you just how water drains from head down after sunshine, but heart tears at its veins.

You found him.

To let go of the bicycle; forcing down the metal to leave it standing. Eventually you walk towards him, slowly as if you’ll scare him away.

About three meters from his feet; Sunwoo suddenly looks away from the star fields and up to you.

“Oh, hi Y/n.” He says like he always does.

You cease to stop, “Hi, Sunwoo.”

He can’t quite place why you’re here. You seem to come up in unexpected moments; take him by heart like a sudden season though he’s been admiring the trees for an eternity. It begins with your hair; how it seemingly floods down on your shoulders. Just like the jewel reflection like glitter under your eyes .

“You’re crying?”

You’re taken back by his question; taking a hand to the cold skin beneath your vision. Liquid dried tight to your complexion.

“It’s a long story,” You stutter; head turns to the ground before your expression becomes decrepit, but poetical.

“I’ll tell you later.”

After silence, you sigh; lending a bit of your worry to Earth. All the heavy mountains, all heavy oceans.

You start, “I have something to tell you.”

Grass stands in between his fingers when they lie flat against the ground. Sunwoo forces himself up while observing your expression. You neither walk closer or further; chin falling in patterns as pupils pierce onto the sight behind him or the grass beneath his feet. Only in mere passages eye contact lasts.

You open your mouth to speak, but realize you have a bad habit of coating everything in a thin layer of sugar as if feeding your words to a child. But there’s a certain bitter aftertaste in being honest.

“I love you, Sunwoo.” The words free from a deep part within. Tears off the inner skin and momentarily aches the body cathedral. He doesn’t say anything. Sitting in place, whether it’s of shock or horror, one can’t tell. To expand the details of his expression, but there’s always two possibilities to his wide eyes and space between lips. Hurriedly you continue.

“I really like you Sunwoo, I’m sorry.” You look down to the left, “I just needed to say it.” You open your arms, not like a hug, rather an impediment.

“So do what you want, Sunwoo.” You breathe in heavily while searching for the world reflected in his window.

“Just break my heart if that’s what you have to, please, just–”

“I love you too.”

“...do–what?” Your arms fall to their sides and the pupil without dimensions expands across the pearl, reaching the far edge of its colorization.

“I love you too.” He stutters more this time.

Every cosmic mass bulging on your shoulders and tearing your back convulses from behind. It like everything eventually does; changes form and frees for the roof without limit. It has compressed your lungs into tiny pulses, you didn’t even notice. Yet the milky way’s worth of celestial bodies frees from you; only eyelids show movement.

You breathe heavily while looking at Sunwoo with parted lips. He looks just as cosmically affected as you.

“But aren’t you together with Jaehyun?” He suddenly says.

You’re quiet for a second before bursting out in laughter.

“No…no.” You take your hands up before your chest and smile “You’re still there?”

Sunwoo’s still crossed brow of confusion. Neither laughing nor speaking.

“I was his fake girlfriend for the parties, but we’re not like that.”

You pause.

“We could never be like that…” You hold your arms behind your back, titling your head when a star aligns with his position.

“Not when you exist.”

He admires you deeply in the same way, one layer below. Knees have come up to his chin and he hugs them slightly while hypnotized following the last season’s breeze across your face.

You’re not sure what is supposed to happen now. But truthfully, you could live adoring the opposite like this for an eternity longer.

Though, Sunwoo has other plans.

The surface of his shoes bend down the grass as he stands. The last meters dying to collapse cease from existence; all before you even lift your head from your shoulder. Just as your eyes widen he’s against you gently. Sheer touch of his fingers across your lower face before he tilts. At last you touch and love-soul bitten sensations fill two hearts.

You look at him again after the kiss; his face so beautiful you believe he could overthrow the world.

a/ n : i kind of broke my own heart by writing reader and juyeon just being friends 😭 it took all my will power

love spectrum spoiler

have flirty/ cute dynamic in the beginning but becomes friends : juyeon, changmin

romantic storylines but do not end up with : eric, hyunjae

end game : sunwoo

tagging : @darcymariebraun-blog @sungbeam @tbzhub @sanaxo-o

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winterchimez · 5 months

Text

Starboy | Kim Sunwoo

SUMMARY: you always had one goal in mind: to do your job properly and call it day when it's done and dusted. until on one fateful night when you accidentally exchange phones with the one and only Kim Sunwoo, and your ordinary PR life is going to take a turn for both the good and the bad.

PAIRING: guitarist!Sunwoo x f!reader

GENRE: band au, fluff, angst, slight suggestive, some crack (bcs it's Kim Sunwoo we're talking about 💁‍♀️)

WARNINGS: nc-17, slow-burn, petnames (girlie, sweetheart, princess, kitten), man's way too obsessed with Neoguri Ramyun, both y/n and Sunwoo bicker A LOT, ofc he's obv flirty as hell here too, ngl he's lowkey kinda a jerk, alcohol, kissing, making out, they both get drunk 😃, they both go through traumatic experiences when it comes to relationships ❤️‍🩹 (so yknow a lot of figuring things out), arguments, mentions about sleeping pills, cursing, parties whoopie, a couple of flashback scenes, in this fic we say amen hallelujah to Eric Sohn (he's the friend we all need let's be real)

WORD COUNT: 21,742

A/N: happiest dearest birthday to my beloved dongsaeng @justalildumpling 💗 i remember we were once talking about sunwoo x starboy (bcs of this whole photoshoot he did for mediheal 😮‍💨) so here it is 🫣 once again, shoutout to @drunkdrazed @momhwa-agenda @from-izzy @sungbeam @kyaroscuro @mosviqu for literally helping me (from brainstorming, beta reading, hyping me up, keeping me in check ashnjsd, choosing the banner, and literally just being the best supporters ever yall are amazing ilysm 😙😙😙🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻)

Act 1 (하나): Starboy

“What do you mean you’re not going? It’s The Boyz, Y/N!”

Your roommate immediately shoves the VIP backstage passes right back at you, convincing you that you’re out of your mind to reject such an offer.

“You know me, Flo. I just don’t really get involved in work-related affairs. Frankly, I much prefer hanging out with my close circle instead.”

“You’re no fun. That’s why you barely get to know anyone in the entertainment world. Imagine all of the big celebrities you could make! Hell, sometimes even get concert tickets for free or even attend after-parties!” Your roommate was now grabbing your shoulders and shaking them vigorously, not caring about all the excuses you’ve come up with to prove your point of just staying home after a long day.

“Come with me, come with me, come with me!” Flo whined, and at this point, if you weren’t going to acknowledge her efforts, she might as well be shaking you till your head fell off.

“Alright, alright! Just this one time, then; what even is so good about them? They’re just an ordinary band like the others-”

Flo immediately places a finger to shush you up. “Now that’s where I’m going to stop you, young lady. The Boyz are very much different than all of the groups out there, and I’ll make sure you realise how much you have been missing out this whole time.”

“If you fail to impress me, you’re treating me to ten cups of black tea with cheese foam from Machi Machi.”

With that, your roommate simply just smirked. “Consider it done.”

It turns out that your roommate wasn’t kidding when she mentioned about The Boyz being a hotshot.

You were now standing in front of Watcha Hall, a fairly well-known concert hall that wasn’t too big or too small. These halls were usually meant for rising artists currently out on the market.

As much as you were taken aback (since you usually dealt with smaller bands or artists with smaller venues), you quickly shook your unnecessary thoughts away before entering the hall. With no time to waste, you hastily made your way backstage and greeted your team of colleagues you’ll be working with for the day.

Thankfully, the organisers had sorted everything out beforehand, so there weren’t too many miscommunications or tasks that seemed too complicated to fulfil. You were pretty much enjoying your time going around the venue, making sure to check that everything was right before the concert.

It was definitely slightly challenging compared to the smaller events you were used to, but it wasn’t too hard when you had a good team of colleagues working alongside you.

Just as you were about to wrap things up, you clearly heard the backdoor creak open, and a few echoes followed behind. As soon as you turned to look, you noticed a group of individuals carrying their instruments began entering the venue one by one, protected and surrounded by their managers and bodyguards.

It was The Boyz.

Immediately, they wasted no time, quickly coming around and lined up in a straight line before extending their greetings to all the staff members they would be working with for the day. You noticed how they ensured that they greeted every single staff member without missing anyone, including you.

They would definitely pass as models if they weren’t in a band.

Every single one of them was breathtakingly beautiful and had good mannerisms. However, one of them immediately caught your attention: the male with striking dark black hair with a kuromi band-aid on his face.

Something about him lured you in, and you couldn’t pinpoint why exactly that was. Was it his aura? The good looks? Or the way he presented himself?

You were snapped back into reality when one of your colleagues approached you to tell you about a minor issue that had occurred backstage and required your assistance. Instantly, you took one look at the band before each of them headed straight to their dressing room to change before coming back up on stage for rehearsals.

Just then, you could’ve sworn that the male you laid your eyes upon actually gave you a little smile followed by a wink before he disappeared into the dark.

What exactly did that mean?

Rehearsals went fairly well, and everything was done a few hours earlier than expected. You had some free time, so you took a little stroll outside at the park near the venue. Obviously, you exited through the back since you wouldn’t want to bump into the thousands of fans lining up to enter the hall.

The little walk was a refreshing moment for you, and you needed it badly, especially after going through months of endless events without having much time for yourself like this.

While strolling through the park, you finally found yourself on an empty bench, perfect for rest while enjoying the breeze. Right then, you decided to whip out your phone and search for The Boyz. You were curious to know why exactly your roommate was obsessed with them.

After some digging, you realise that they have built quite a reputation for themselves: winning multiple awards, being nominated for band of the year, and taking up the role of ambassadors of many beauty brands currently on the market.

Once again, you couldn’t deny that they were all relatively good-looking and would strive to be a celebrity without a doubt. However, your eyes fall upon the man who caught your attention during rehearsals. As you scrolled further down, you came to learn of his name.

Kim Sunwoo, the guitarist of The Boyz.

That name now sounded slightly too familiar for you, though you couldn’t pinpoint why exactly it was that. As much as you tried recalling from the back of your mind, only a hazy recollection of that name rings in your head, and nothing else helpful popped up.

Now that you know that this man had something to do with you, it is best to dig in further about him and ask your childhood best friend who knew you best—from your personality to your likes and dislikes. Immediately, you texted her before deciding it was time for you to head back to the venue to prepare for the show.

“Hey Lyla, would you mind searching up about this man named Kim Sunwoo to see if you can find anything interesting?”

The venue was filled with fans from the front stage to the back, and the same went on the upper floor. You were surprised that their popularity wasn’t just for the show; they had fans ranging from teens to middle-aged. Moreover, you noticed a few prominent celebrities sitting in the crowd for the night, sitting in the VIP zone with their bodyguards, as if they were not just enjoying but also evaluating the show.

The band members knew exactly that those celebrities, besides their very own fans, had eyes on them. Hence, they knew that they had to give it out all for the night, and they did just that. Their performance was like no other and very different from the ones you were used to, and you were instantly captivated from the beginning of the show. Each member had their unique colours, and they all stood out in their very own ways.

As you continued to listen to their music in a much more precise manner, you noticed how each lyric meant something, as well as the choice of keys, instrumentals, and how each instrument and vocals just seemed to blend and create the perfect song to perform as a group.

Before you knew it, two hours passed so quickly, and the band was now lined up and giving their fans a final bow before going one by one backstage. At this time, it was also your cue to head there, meet them personally, and hopefully get to know them a lot better.

Sure enough, the backstage was filled with snacks and drinks to fuel the artists and staff after a successful performance. You decided to go for the simple lemonade pop fizzy drink before taking it and heading into the room where everyone was. Once the director made everyone raise their glasses of beverage to do a loud cheer, everyone began dispersing into their groups to catch up with one another.

Your roommate’s words constantly echoed in your mind: “Go and meet them personally! Do not let your VIP pass go to waste!”.

That is only if your anxiety wasn’t up the roof.

You have tried to walk up towards the idols multiple times but have only ended up retreating to the entrance. You had yet to learn what you would say to them upfront.

Hey, the show was incredible I loved it! Oh my gosh, you looked absolutely stunning in that black leather jacket!

No, that was way too common. You were sure that every fan would’ve said the same to them.

After a good 10 minutes of internal battling, you decided that it was best to head back to your accommodations and call it a night. Instantly, you grabbed the phone lying on the glass table near the makeup station, assuming it was yours since you had been looking for it right before the show started.

It wasn’t unusual for you to misplace your belongings; it was something both Flo and your childhood best friends back in Busan—Lyla and Bella had always commented about you. But since the phone was a dark midnight black, it must be yours since you were the only staff member with an iPhone in that particular colour anyway.

Little did you know that all it took was one small mistake for you to end up in an awkward situation that would soon follow.

If you could yell at yourself out loud right now, you would certainly do it without a care in the world. Only now that you were out in the dark and it was slightly freezing, you're left squatting down in front of the twenty-four-hour convenience store with the mobile in hand.

How exactly did you end up in this situation? You should have checked the phone thoroughly before bolting out from the concert hall to your hotel.

As soon as you returned, you tossed all your belongings aside and took a quick, warm shower. You couldn’t care less about wanting to have a nice relaxing salt bath—which you would usually do whenever you get booked into a luxury hotel. You were too exhausted, and all you wanted to do was lie in bed while scrolling through random Instagram reels for the night.

Immediately after the shower, you wrapped your dripping wet hair up with a towel before plopping down onto the bed, trying to unlock your phone, which was encrypted with your Face ID.

Only this time, the Face ID wasn’t recognised, and the wallpaper differed from the one you had just changed a couple of nights ago.

This wasn’t your phone.

Instantly, panic rushed upon you, and you did not know who this phone belonged to. You could head straight back to the concert hall, though you will likely run out of luck since there would only be a couple of security guards left to clear out the space during this late at night.

Or you could try calling your manager or roommate if you remember their mobile numbers before this.

You were tossing and turning around your bed, not knowing what to do, and worried that whoever had your phone must’ve probably hacked into your system by now.

No no, they can’t do that! I have tons of important emails and work stuff in there-

Your train of thought was immediately cut off when an unknown number began calling the phone in your possession. You quickly shot up from the bed before taking a deep breath and answering the mysterious phone call.

“Hey, I think you might’ve gotten my phone instead,” the voice on the other end of the line spoke.

“Y-Yeah! I’m so sorry. I should’ve checked earlier before I left; I know it’s not right for me to steal-”

“No worries, man. Say, would you mind going to the convenience store near the hotel to exchange our phones back?”

“C-Certainly! I’ll get dressed now and be there as soon as possible!”

So all of that happened within the span of half an hour, and you were now waiting patiently outside the convenience store, waiting for whoever the owner is to come as quickly as they can because, frankly, you’re about to start freezing to death at this point.

After what seemed like a long 10 minutes, you began to hear footsteps approaching your way. You shot up and squinted your eyes to see the individual slowly emerging from the shadows. The moment you landed your eyes on them, your jaw immediately dropped, now knowing who exactly the phone's owner belonged to.

“K-Kim Sunwoo?!” You scream before the male quickly dashes towards you and cups your mouth with his bare hands.

“Yes, it’s me. Are you trying to expose me right out here in public?”

“N-No, that wasn’t my intention-” You tried speaking in your muffled voice.

Sunwoo finally lets go before he gave you a little chuckle and reached through his back pocket to hand you your phone back. “Since you accidentally took my phone, why don’t you keep me company for a little while?”

It took you a little while to process the thought before the alarms started ringing off in your head, and you quickly positioned yourself in defence mode. “Oh hell no, you ain’t touching me, mister. I don’t care if you’re an idol, there’s no way-”

Sunwoo immediately burst into laughter, laughing so hard that he was now wrapping his arms around his stomach, and tears started forming in his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not a predator.”

“Well, at least that’s not how it goes in certain cases out there.”

“Girlie, you watch too many crime documentaries. I can assure you that I’m a harmless guitarist who’s just craving for some Neoguri Ramyun.”

Instantly, you lowered your guard down and straightened your position. “You’re here to eat ramen?”

“Now, I have no idea why that came as a shocker to you. It’s very common for idols to sneak out in the middle of the night to head to the convenience store for some late-night snack.”

“How do your managers not notice someone missing from the hotel rooms?”

“Eh, I have my ways…and no. I’m not telling you,” Sunwoo immediately rejected your advances when you started walking closer to him.

“Hmph, you’re no fun. Just when I thought I could get some valuable inside scoop from you,” you sulked.

He scoffed. “You’re a funny one; I like you.” Right after that, he immediately grabs hold of your wrist before dragging you into the convenience store.

“Neoguri Ramyun with red chilli flakes. My treat, and I’ll show you how to cook it properly.”

Act 2 (둘): Party Monster

You were still baffled by that ramen date you had with the one and only Kim Sunwoo the night before. Well, you wouldn’t exactly call it a “date”, but you had no idea how else to describe it properly.

He was a lot different from how you imagined him to be—very upbeat, someone who loved to crack jokes every chance he got, and hilarious as hell. Honestly, you enjoyed your time with him at the convenience store. He definitely taught you the proper way to make Neoguri Ramyun, even though you insisted that you wanted Shin Ramyun the entire time or some Mala Oden instead. You just never got the hype for Neoguri Ramyun after the countless times that your roommate Flo has forced you to try them.

But that all changed last night, and you were about to add this to your cart whenever you headed out to do your usual groceries every weekend. You had never seen someone talking about ramen so passionately as he did, and what’s more interesting was that this was coming from an idol, not some random dude you would meet on the streets.

However, you had to constantly argue with the man about not consuming too much of it, and it would be better for him to get some protein in his diet. He would just shrug you off and stand firm with his answer.

“Hey, I once read an article about an elderly man who survived for 50 years by just consuming Neoguri Ramyun. He’s my actual idol if you ask me,” Sunwoo argued.

“Sure, you’re gonna get high cholesterol the next time I see you,” you spat right into his face.

“Watch me, girlie. I will still be as fit as I was performing on stage tonight. Or hell, even buffer and healthier than I was before.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And that’s why I get all the girls to like me, sweetheart.”

That last line would constantly replay in your head, as much as you didn’t want it to. You knew he was just saying it as part of his demeanour, but you couldn’t help but reminisce on your past.

Because that was what your ex always said, and it turns out those weren’t just empty words.

You were brought back to reality when you realised you had been overfilling your mug with cold milk, which was now splattered across the dining table. Not wanting your roommate to wake up screaming at the top of her lungs at you, you quickly grabbed the nearest cloth to wipe away all the evidence, chugging down the liquid before you dashed right out the door.

As you made your way to the local subway, you suddenly felt a ring within the inside pocket of your jacket. You waited until you had gone up the train before taking your phone out to see whatever it was.

It was a text from Sunwoo.

As if yesterday still felt like a dream for you, so many questions lingered in your mind about how exactly he got your number until you remembered that you both had swapped phones for a couple of hours before giving them back to their rightful owners.

As soon as you read his first message, you couldn’t help but form a smile before texting one back eagerly.

that one guy obsessed with Neoguri Ramyun 🦝: good morning, princess. how did you sleep last night? I’m sure that hot warm ramyun definitely gave you a well-rested night. y/n: as if. i had to use the bathroom multiple times this morning because of how spicy you made the broth to be. that one guy obsessed with Neoguri Ramyun 🦝: shame, you don’t have a strong and capable immune system like i do y/n: shut your mouth, mister. or else I’ll report you to your managers about your disappearance last night. that one guy obsessed with Neoguri Ramyun 🦝: you wouldn’t 🥰 y/n: try me, bitch 😄 that one guy obsessed with Neoguri Ramyun 🦝: feisty. this is why i like you. say, do you wanna catch up some time for dinner? my treat again, of course 😙 y/n: what makes you think that i would risk my life to go out with you in plain sight? unlike you, i clearly care about my job and i wouldn’t want to risk that. that one guy obsessed with Neoguri Ramyun 🦝: now that’s just rude. i was going to treat you to the newly opened Sheraton Hotel a few blocks away from the concert venue since i had extra vouchers. i guess not anymore- y/n: now why didn’t you say so earlier!! count me in im coming!! 😍 that one guy obsessed with Neoguri Ramyun 🦝: that’s what i like to hear. get yourself ready and send me your location later on, i’ll pick you up tonight at 8 😉

“What do you mean you’re going on a date with the actual Kim Sunwoo?!?!”

Okay, on second thought. Maybe you shouldn’t have spilt the tea with your roommate just yet.

“It’s not a date, Flo. He’s just treating me to a meal for returning his phone back to him,” you answered while digging through your wardrobe for what to wear for the night.

“Umm, hello? The Sheraton Hotel? That’s a fancy place where people go for candlelight dinners! He’s clearly onto something.”

“You read too many romance novels. There’s no way I’m getting involved in any of those fiascoes. I’m just there for the free food.”

“Whatever you say, ma’am. You clearly want to impress the guy himself,” Flo pointed to the black slim-fit dress you picked and a sparkly cardigan to keep yourself warm.

“Hey, what’s wrong with being all glammed up? After all, it’s been a while since I’ve felt this pumped,” you laughed before heading straight to your makeup desk to get started. “Besides, I think I’ve had enough moping episodes, and I’m ready to head back into the party scene.”

“The party scene? Oh hell no, don’t tell me you’re going to bring Sunwoo to your favourite clubs-”

You turned around to meet your roommate face to face while applying foundation with your beauty blender on your cheeks. “Why yes, darling, I’m going to do just that. I think it’ll be interesting to see if he can beat my alcohol tolerance.”

“You’re just too much sometimes, Y/N. I don’t even know if that’s going to be a great idea, you know, after how that last one went-”

“Flo, I assure you. I’m fine. I’m all over him. I’m no longer seeking a relationship; I just want to get out there and return to my safe space and have some fun.”

In return, your roommate could only sigh before walking back towards you. She grabbed your hairbrush right next to your makeup desk to start brushing out your hair before helping you style it with your curler.

“Just promise me you won’t be crying in my arms again. I don’t wanna go through that hell of a phase you had back then,” Flo stressed, making sure that you listened carefully and that her words have gone straight into your mind.

“I promise. My heart will be as hard as steel from now on.”

“You definitely don’t seem like the type of guy who would drive,” you commented as you sat comfortably in the passenger seat while Sunwoo rested one of his arms on the armrest and the other on the steering wheel.

“When will you stop looking down on me? I assure you that I have many hobbies and talents and excel in every single one of them,” Sunwoo pouted, which in return made you giggle. “I swear if I wasn’t driving right now, I would’ve charged right at you and taught you a lesson.”

“Like what? Tickle me? That’s so old-school, Kim.”

“Whatever you say, Princess. But hey, thanks for accepting the offer. I knew you would be the perfect one for this little getaway I have during my free time.’

“I’m just here for the free food, sir. Nothing else.”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t say so. Usually, people turn me down even if the food is luxurious and scrumptious; I’d like to think that you have some other motive-”

“Look up at the road ahead and drive, Kim. You don’t even meet my standards in men, anyway,” you crossed your arms before extending your tongue out at him.

“Damn, why did they even choose you to be part of the PR team? And I thought people who do events like you are a lot more friendlier and nice,” Sunwoo fired back.

“I am friendly and nice to many people, but not to you, apparently,” you shrugged.

“And how can I help change your mind about me?”

“You can’t, and you won’t. Just hurry up and let me taste some luxurious seafood; I’m starving.”

“Ungrateful.”

“Not my fault that you’re flirty as hell. It just makes me want to drag you down some more.”

With that, you both chuckled as the drive stopped before Sunwoo exited his vehicle, walked towards your side to help you open the door, and extended his hand to you. “We have arrived, Princess.”

You gave him an eye-roll before resting your hands on his and stepping out of his vehicle. “You better be treating me to good food; otherwise, I will give you a rating of 1.5 out of 5 stars on Google reviews.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, darling. I aim to please.”

You retracted everything you said about the male himself; he definitely knew all the ways to a woman’s heart.

He actually made an effort to pull the chair away from the table and escorted you to a seat before taking the napkin placed on the table and draping it over your thighs before going across to have a seat himself. He ordered the best champagne for the both of you, paired with an 8-course dinner, and you certainly felt like it was your birthday.

No man has treated you this way before, not even your ex.

Another difference about Sunwoo was that he was willing to ask more about you and actually tried to listen to everything you had to say. He was the complete opposite of your ex—he presented himself well, knew how to read the room so as not to push the question further if it made either one of you uncomfortable, and always made sure to check up on you.

He insisted that you give a proper review for each meal, for he would give feedback to the chef behind the meal planning and prep. Sunwoo often visited the hotel, after all, since the company would usually be hosting any sort of private events here, and all of the staff felt like home to him.

At one point, he noticed a little stain on the corners of your lips, and he instantly took his napkin and leaned forward to wipe it away by instinct. This little action made you blush, and your cheeks turned pink to red within seconds. Sunwoo, being the man he was, had to point it out, making you feel much more embarrassed than before.

Throughout the night, he would often call you pretty and cute, and each time, you would try to brush it off and think nothing much of it, but you just seemed to fail horribly each time.

You won’t deny that he looked absolutely stunning compared to wearing a hoodie at the convenience store the night before. He made an effort to style himself tonight; his hair gelled and parted to the sides, and he wore this black suit with some hints of sparkle throughout the fit.

This is definitely not the look of a guitarist from a band—he looked way too good for that. In fact, he could definitely pass as an idol or actor, and he was certainly on par with the top good-looking models you have previously worked with.

You were not planning to tell him that; his ego was already too much for you to handle, and you certainly wouldn’t be surviving his teases if he found out what you thought about him. Instead, you hastily chomped away your food and the dessert that finally came and suggested that you wanted to bring him to one of the clubs you often frequented back then.

Sunwoo was reluctant, and you could see in his eyes that he was contemplating whether to go. That action intrigued you, and you couldn’t help but comment on it.

“Why? Are you afraid to drink? Or do you have horrible alcohol tolerance?” You smirked as you crossed your arms together.

“Neither. Let’s go.”

His response seemed slightly colder than usual, and he was up and ready to pay the bills before exiting the hotel. You quickly trailed behind and guided him to the club a few blocks from the hotel. You reassured him that nobody would bother him at the club since most people are just there to have fun, and usually, half of them are just busy making out with one another or tipsy.

After going through the identification at the entrance, you guided him down to the section where you often stayed for the night. It was much quieter than the others around the area, and there was a little bar at the corners for those who preferred to chat while having a drink.

You offered to pay for Sunwoo’s this time and handed him a long island cocktail to fuel him for the night. Instead of drinking it immediately, Sunwoo spun the glass around with his hand, swirling his drink while staring at it.

On the other hand, you chugged down your beverage almost immediately, and only then did you notice how Sunwoo seemed a lot quieter now. In fact, this is the most quiet he has been ever since you’ve met him.

“Long Island is not suited for your taste, sir?” You joked before ordering another cup from the bartender.

“No…it’s just…I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to drink tonight, Y/N.”

That was the first time he actually called out your name.

As the alcohol slowly enters your system, the tipsiness begins kicking in, and you are getting high at this point. Most importantly, you wanted to tease him more now.

“Aww, a star like you can’t handle a little cocktail? Guess you’re not what everyone seems to label you as then~” you purred before leaning in close to taunt him.

With that, Sunwoo finally looked into your eyes, and you noticed how they were slowly turning black before he chugged the entire cocktail down his throat. It took him a while to swallow everything and open his eyes, and when he finally did, he grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the nearest bathroom stall before pining you up against the door.

You were startled by the sudden move he made, but the alcohol was just not making you rational at this point, and you just wanted to taunt him even more. “What is it now? You’re going to teach me a lesson? Mr Kim?”

“Oh hell yes I am, Y/N.”

With that, he was now holding both of your wrists with one hand before the other snakes down to touch your body before resting it on your waist. Sunwoo then leans forward to the point that both of your lips are now mere inches apart.

“You’re going to regret making me consume alcohol for the night, Miss Y/N.”

Act 3 (셋): Rockin’

You were woken up with the sun blaring onto your face and the birds chirping outside the windows. You began rubbing your eyes until you felt something draped over your body.

A blanket?

Instantly, you jolted up and looked around your surroundings. You have no idea where exactly you were, and this was definitely not your apartment. Frantically, you looked around to take in as much information as possible, just in case you needed to report to the authorities.

Okay…there’s a white curtain, a fireplace, a laptop-

“Ouch!”

You suddenly felt something cold come into contact with your cheeks, and you quickly darted your attention towards whatever it was. That was when you looked up to see the familiar man holding a glass of ice water toward your cheeks. He immediately let go the moment you grabbed the cup into your hands.

“Drink that. You need it,” Sunwoo replied before walking across the room to pick up your clothing tossed on the floor.

Oh my god.

You quickly placed the glass water on the nightstand before lifting the blankets to see if you were wearing anything underneath.

“Calm down, princess. I have not stooped that low to do the nasty with a woman I just met. I had to help change your clothes into something a lot more comfortable because there’s no way you’re sleeping comfortably with that tight dress for the entire night.”

So that was what happened.

“B-But still! You changed my clothing without my consent-”

“And leave you all dirtied with splatters of alcohol all over that dress and then sleep in MY bed? Very unlikely and not gentleman at all.”

You were not convinced just yet. “T-Then, you slept beside me the entire night!?”

“I slept on the couch in the living room, obviously. You basically had my bedroom for the entire night, a solid 8 hours, to be exact.”

As soon as you took every information in, you plopped straight down onto the pillow, burying your face with your hands. You couldn’t believe your return to the party scene led you back to Sunwoo’s apartment. You had promised yourself and Flo that nothing would happen and that you knew how to stop before things proceeded further.

Guess all of that effort went straight down the drain.

“Look, I…I’m so sorry I’ve caused you so much trouble. I swear, none of this was my intention; it’s just the alcohol, and I was desperate and-”

“Oh, I know. Baby.”

Just when you opened your eyes, Sunwoo was now sitting at the edge of the bed and very close to you. By instinct, you retreated and moved towards the side, but that only made Sunwoo come closer and eventually rest his fingers on your chin.

“Whatever happened last night? Will stay between us, Y/N. Frankly, I did enjoy my time with you. I think it would be nice if you could attend the parties that I will be hosting from now on. I’m sure you’ll be a great addition to the party scene.”

It took a few seconds for you to process that thought, and you blinked as a response to that. Seeing that you were too stunned to speak, he decided to press on.

“I’ll drop you back to your apartment in an hour, so get dressed and take a warm shower in my bathroom, hmm? I’ll be waiting outside in the living room.”

Once he was done, he stood up before heading straight to turn the doorknob, leaving you alone to pull yourself together and get ready before it was time to go. Right before closing the door, he decided to add one more crucial detail that he had left out.

“By the way, your lips tasted exactly like my favourite strawberry lip gloss that I often apply whenever I go up to perform on stage.”

“You did what!?” Flo was screaming right at the top of her lungs this time, not caring about all of the stares you both had been getting for the past 10 minutes since you arrived at the cafe before spilling the tea with her.

“Look, nothing happened. He just happened to take care of me and made sure that I was safe-”

“Nothing happened!? How can you be so sure? Who knows, he might’ve touched you while you were asleep-”

You grabbed her shoulders to calm her down. “Flo. Nothing. Happened.”

Your roommate immediately swatted your hands away and crossed her arms as she laid back on the bench, giving you an immense side-eye while she was at it. “Either way, you broke your promise. You said you were going to be responsible, but look at what you did!”

At times like this, you just wanted to vanish from the depths of the earth as you knew your roommate always had this motherly figure between the two of you. Ever since you moved out from your little hometown on the outskirts of Seoul, Flo was the one who managed to guide you around and became your roommate in the blink of an eye.

She had moved in a week before you did, and originally the tenant wouldn’t let anyone enter the properties anymore. But you were desperate at the time, as you needed a space to live in as soon as possible before starting the following week, and Flo was the one who managed to talk it out with the tenant to give you a room.

It has been a year, and you both managed to fit right into your studio apartment, becoming much closer than you thought you would. After all, Flo had made a pact with your childhood friends, who have always looked out for you throughout your time back home, ensuring you were always in good hands no matter where you went.

“I think I’m going to have to report to Lyla and Bella,” Flo huffed before taking out her phone. She was about to make the call before you managed to stop her right there.

“Do not. Call them over trivial matters like this. I do not need them to be on the train to Seoul right now,” you warned.

“Clearly, you did not know how to limit boundaries, Miss Y/N. You said you were not looking for a relationship, then why did you even make out with the Kim Sunwoo in the club?”

“Can you just- not say his name out loud,” you hissed. “Look, we were both drunk; it was just a one-night thing, okay? That’s not going to happen anymore. Hell, I’m even pissed at myself for falling for the guy so easily like that.”

“Well, you should be. You have a lot of things to work on, young lady.”

“Okay, but first of all, can you just stop being mad at me?”

“Not until you have learnt your lesson. No more boys and no more kissing. And most importantly.” Flo now stood up and cupped both of your cheeks with her hands. “No more alcohol. Understood?”

You sighed. “I’ll bake matcha cookies with you when we get back.”

Instantly, Flo let go of her hands before sitting back down and giving you a devilish smile. “Now, that’s more like it.”

Nothing much happened after that, and your phone has been unusually silent over the past week. There hasn’t been much going on at work either, so you have been working remotely and having much more time to yourself.

You would laze around the apartment a little too much, but you were glad you could sit back and relax for a bit. All you had to do was respond to some work emails, and that was it. Most of the time, you would spend your time baking with Flo (because she insists) or just going through the list of shows you have meant to catch up on Netflix.

Just as you were done clocking out for the week, your supervisor informed the entire department that you would continue working remotely the following week and would only be back in the office in a fortnight.

Ever since that conversation with Flo back at the cafe, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to return to your hometown to visit your family and friends. You only need to bring your laptop back, and you can work remotely instead. With that, you quickly stood up, took out one of your smaller luggage and began sorting out the clothes you would bring back.

That is until an unexpected message came through.

that one guy obsessed with Neoguri Ramyun 🦝: hey princess, just checking up on you that one guy obsessed with Neoguri Ramyun 🦝 : how have you been feeling?

Really? A text from Sunwoo after a week of not saying anything?

You honestly were just planning to leave him on read, but something within you said that you should give him a reply; he, in fact, was concerned about your well-being.

You could definitely trust this guy. Right?

y/n: been good, burying myself with work. that one guy obsessed with Neoguri Ramyun 🦝: that’s unfortunate. but if you do happen to be free tomorrow night… 👀 y/n: whatever are you planning this time, Sunwoo that one guy obsessed with Neoguri Ramyun 🦝: just the usual parties at Eric’s villa. you’ll come, won’t you?

Tomorrow. But you were planning to head back to your hometown.

Now you were in a dilemma; you know that you have only known this guy a little shy of just one week, yet there was this prominent mutual attraction between you two—at least, you wanted to think of it that way.

But were you ready to ditch your friends and family over this guy? Over a party where you could potentially get drunk once again and make questionable decisions that you were certain you would regret later on?

You contemplated asking Flo to help you choose, but given that she did not take your last encounter with the male well, it’s probably not a very good idea at this point. You could flip a coin and respectfully choose the side you’ve assigned the decision to, but why go through the lengths of all that?

It was either a yes or no, simple as that. Yet, you were pacing around the room, scratching your head while at it, until one more text came from the man himself.

that one guy obsessed with Neoguri Ramyun 🦝: y/n, you there? don’t leave me on read 🙁

Argh, goddamit we ball.

y/n: pick me up tomorrow, the usual.

“Damn, I had no idea your bandmate Eric was this rich,” you commented before taking a sip of your mocktail that you took at the entrance.

Yes. Mocktail. You weren’t ready to go down the same path you had in the previous encounter you had with Sunwoo.

“Boy grew up rich, alright. He has one villa back in the States, too.”

“And I assume all of you have been there?”

“Oh, we often stay there for a couple of nights whenever we’re in Los Angeles. I say it's a win-win situation, given that we have free accommodations. Besides, his mum has taken a liking to us all, particularly me.” Sunwoo nudges your shoulders as he says that last sentence.

“Don’t be stupid. You look horrendous,” you spat.

“Now, that’s not what you said to me the other day, Princess.”

You were baffled. “Huh? What did I say?”

“Oh, darling. You said many things when we were making out. You were pretty much a very vocal one at that, too,” he grinned before taking a sip of his drink, but you couldn’t just let this slip away easily. “Ow! Why did you pinch my arm for!”

You pulled his shirt down so that you could whisper into his ear. “You’re going to have to tell me what exactly happened that day, and it stays between us and only us.”

“Seems like girlie couldn’t remember a single detail from that night after all, hmm?” Sunwoo smirked before he took a strand of your hair and intertwined it around his finger.

Again, you swatted his hands away. “Don’t play games with me, Sunwoo. Tell me everything right now; I need to know for the sake of my well-”

Before you could even finish your sentence, Sunwoo immediately pulled you down onto one of the empty sun loungers scattered throughout the pool area, and little did you realise that you had just landed on his lap.

“Stop wasting all of the unnecessary energy, Y/N. We’re here tonight just to relax and party, hmm? That heated make-out session is history. What matters is you’re here with me,” he cooed.

Oh hell, this is going to be a long night indeed.

Act 4 (넷): Secrets

It definitely took you a while to break free from Kim Sunwoo’s arms. At one point, you were both just chatting—well, more likely bickering, and then the next thing that happened was the both of you got pulled towards the pool table located at the side of the outdoor swimming pool area where the boys and several other girls were playing beer pong.

Eventually, you gave in and represented your team in a couple of rounds, only having to drink once or twice as compared to Sunwoo. He was a mess by the time the game got around to the tenth round, and he had his arm over you and slowly laid his head on the crook of your neck.

It was fairly common as you saw the other boys and girls around you doing the same thing; people were just having fun, and a little skinship could do no harm.

After some time, you decided that you needed some alone time and retreated into the house, where you found a cosy couch just to sit back and relax a little. Everyone was still in the outdoor area, with only a handful of people chilling and just talking with one another around the living space, so you didn’t really mind it at all.

Slowly sipping your drink, you decided just to take in everything that had happened back in the past week. You were back in the party scene again, back to drinking (which you’ve definitely missed), and you actually felt that your life was lit up again after so long.

It took you a while to get over your ex, and that previous relationship ruined you so badly that you couldn’t even drink or go to a club for quite some time. To think that you had met Sunwoo through one of the events you were part of, trading back each other’s phones just because you were the one who mistakenly took his, and then getting close with him until you were now part of the band’s social scene? It was wild.

Suddenly, you felt a little thump as someone made their way to take a seat next to you, and you realised who it was the moment he brushed his hair back with his hands.

“You must be Y/N? Sunwoo has talked a lot about you,” he lifted his glass of whiskey to prompt you to do a little cheer before taking a good sip of his beverage.

“Thanks for letting me come tonight; I really appreciate it,” you responded politely to the male.

“Oh no, thank you for coming, actually. Without you, our recent concert wouldn’t have been a huge success as it was.”

You chuckled. “You’re joking. All of your concerts do great all the time, Eric.”

“Not always. There are usually a few seats left empty in our previous one. But this? We have been told that all seats were sold out in nearly ten minutes before the website crashed. You and your team made it happen, Y/N.”

You weren’t too sure if it was because of the alcohol or if it was getting a little too stuffy in the house, but you could only respond by giving him a little nod before downing your drink to ease the awkwardness.

You didn’t seem to have to worry much because Eric was a sociable guy. He would come up with random topics that could keep you busy throughout the night, and frankly, you enjoyed yapping about every single one of them, and he did just the same.

Before you knew it, laughter began filling the room, and it was from both of you (mostly Eric because he is one loud fellow). At one point, you laughed so much that tears had formed within the corners of your eyes, and Eric had to pull the nearby tissue box to hand them to you.

“Oh my god, you can be a stand-up comedian, Sohn.”

“I’ve been told multiple times if only the members would acknowledge that,” he pouts.

“They don’t? How could they?”

“You tell me! Clearly, they don’t know how to appreciate LA humour in the slightest. But now I’ve found someone who does,” he points his glass again at you to indicate another cheer before the two of you drink your beverages. “Say, Y/N. Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot your shot, mister. I’m prepared for anything, even if it means I will be laughing my ass off until tomorrow morning,” you replied confidently, thinking that he was about to pull another lame joke.

Only this time, he was going to press on something serious instead.

“What are your thoughts about Sunwoo? Be honest with me.”

Huh? Why are we shifting the topic back to Sunwoo?

“I…umm…he’s just a guy, I guess. I don’t know him well enough to determine that much yet,” you answered bluntly, hoping it was enough to give him a satisfactory answer.

It took Eric a little while to respond properly before you eventually caught him staring right at your collarbone, causing you to touch the very spot he was eyeing at. “Umm…is something wrong?”

“No, not at all. But listen to me very carefully, Y/N. You will be needing this.”

Immediately, Eric gently pulled you closer so he could whisper into your ear, ensuring that the coast was clear and nobody was around to eavesdrop before muttering those words that caused you to linger in your mind for the entire night.

“Whatever you do, do not get yourself involved in Sunwoo’s affairs. Stay as far away as you can from him.”

Just like that, Eric was up and ready to excuse himself as he had to tend to the other guests. He gave you one final smile accompanied by a single wave before he headed towards the exit. Right before he left, you could catch something he muttered softly under his breath, something you wished you hadn’t heard.

“Kim Sunwoo, I guess you are still the very same bastard just as you were back then.”

It has been a couple of weeks since you were invited to the party at Eric’s villa in central Seoul. As much as you tried your best to ignore the warnings Eric had told you about Sunwoo, you couldn’t help but constantly think about it throughout the entire day.

Sure, Sunwoo was a flirt—but he wouldn’t go as far as to harm you physically or emotionally.

In fact, you have been in close contact with the man himself almost every weekend. The band was off-season for a little while, which meant he would be back in Seoul during the weekends, as his schedules were free. Hence, he had a lot of time to bring you around Seoul and to all of his favourite restaurants that he frequented either as a celebrity or where he often went during his trainee days.

He has built up a reputation for himself, and all of the owners of the restaurants near his old dormitory with the members treated him like their own son. At times, certain owners would even treat him to a free meal, so that basically meant you were getting a free ride, too, since you were his acquaintance.

You just couldn’t seem to fathom that a guy like Sunwoo was someone comparable to your ex.

Your ex has done multiple things in the past which made you feel like an outcast for a while. You stopped going to parties, being the sociable fairy you once were, and hell, even let yourself get close to a man ever again.

Your previous relationship traumatised you to the point that you needed a break from everything and everyone, including your best friends and family.

That was why you fled to Seoul—you wanted a new life, a new beginning, and a little escape from everyone for a little while. The moment you received a call back from your current agency about hiring you to be part of their PR team, you were astounded. You have always loved meeting new people and wanted to do everything you could to help them until your ex-boyfriend changed everything.

It just so happened that your encounter with The Boyz was meant to have several chapters down the line. Usually, you would work with a group or artist until the day of the concert or event, and then you would return to your normal routine. There were no meet-ups or getting close to the celebrities or their acquaintances. You’d like to think that it was fate that you had become close mutual friends with The Boyz.

Until that fateful night when Eric warned you about Sunwoo.

You couldn’t believe it, or rather, you didn’t want to believe that.

All you wanted was to have someone like Sunwoo come into your life again—to drag you out of your shell and back to where you truly belong.

That is until a phone call came from your best friend.

“Y/N. I think I’ve found something that should piqued your interest,” Lyla announced on the phone.

Act 5 (다섯): All I Know

It seemed that the days of relaxation had ended when the band finally received some sample songs for their upcoming album. As the group's lead songwriter, Sunwoo was already in the studio at 3 a.m., going through each one with his team of producers.

When it came to his job, Sunwoo poured his whole heart and soul into them, and he can be very meticulous when selecting the song that would suit the team best. He was cautious and ensured that each member had time to shine and portray their unique skills throughout the song.

This is also a time when he would be the hardest to contact if there ever was a situation in which someone needed his presence as soon as possible. Technically, he would always leave his phone on silent mode throughout the day but opt for the do-not-disturb mode when in the studio. He just disliked it when he got interrupted during his train of thought while in his creative mindset.

But hunger would never escape him, and his tummy began making growling noises. Then, he finally checked his phone for the very first time since he stepped into the studio. It was already 9:30 in the morning, and he hadn’t had any food since 6 p.m. the day before.

If he wanted to get back on his feet, he obviously had to do something to satisfy the grumbling noises that would soon fill the entire studio if he had left it just there and then. So he quickly took his hoodie and was off to the nearest convenience store near the company.

As usual, he walked straight towards the ramen aisle and quickly grabbed his favourite Neoguri Ramyun, which had to be the spiciest one. To top it off with a beverage, he went straight to the freezer box to grab an ice cup and paired it with his favourite chocolate milk drink that came in a packet, which he would then empty the continents into the cup itself after purchase.

He was going to walk straight to the cashier until your voice suddenly rang in his head.

The hell do you survive on just ramen all the time? Add on some healthier carbs, will you?

Just like that, he turned his heels back towards the aisle and grabbed an onigiri that looked pretty decent enough to pair with his noodles and coffee.

There. I’ve added rice. It’s more than enough. He replied mentally towards your voice.

Usually, he would bring his so-called “breakfast” back to the studio and eat while working, but he decided that it wouldn’t hurt just to sit down and chill in the store while admiring the clear blue skies for the day. It had been raining for the past few days so it was nice to get a little sunlight in a while.

As he chomped down on his food, he just couldn’t stop thinking about that very first time when you both had met back at the store that was located near the concert venue and how you were doubting his ability to actually make an ordinary cup of ramen taste just as good as Sunwoo acclaimed to be all the time.

“What, you’re just adding chopped green jalapeno and sesame seeds. That doesn’t make a difference,” you argued, having done the same with the noodles at your apartment.

“Not just any jalapeno and sesame seeds, it has to be the one that specifically comes with this spiciest addition that you can request at your local convenience store for the add-on,” he proclaimed while throwing all of the ingredients together before mixing it up well with the wooden chopsticks.

Still unconvinced, you gave him an immense side-eye as he pushed the cup of ramen to you and insisted that you try it. You reluctantly took a few strands of noodles with the chopsticks and started chewing until you stopped halfway, which made Sunwoo lean in close to reply with a grin.

“See, told ya.”

It really did make a difference. It turned out that Sunwoo was serious about this whole Neoguri Ramyun business he was running. He had always insisted that the people around him had to cook the noodles the same exact way as he did, or else they would be better off thrown into the trash.

“Honestly, I should’ve become a ramen connoisseur instead of a guitarist. I would’ve made loads of money from this alone. Hell, I think Neoguri should even hire me as their ambassador.”

“Nah, you don’t have the looks to be plastered across Neoguri advertisement boards. Heck, I don’t think I would wanna consume a cup ramen with your face on the packaging.”

“Hello? We just met and were having a good conversation together?” Sunwoo protested.

“I’m sorry, but I’m usually pretty blunt and straightforward with my words.”

“Ouch. You’re a monster.”

“I’ve been told,” you stuck your tongue out at the male.

That conversation would often bring a smile back onto Sunwoo’s face. It was the way you could be savage for one second, and the next thing that happened was you were slurping away the noodles that he had just made for you (note: the noodles that he deemed were far beyond perfection).

Just like you thought that it was fate for Sunwoo to have entered your life, he did the same, too.

It had been a long time since he had found someone who could connect with him, be on the same level as he did, and even tolerate his flirtatious remarks and behaviour. Most importantly, it had been a while since he had gotten this close to a girl.

Like everyone else, Sunwoo had a past that wasn’t of the best to be on his history books. He had been through many things, more like things that he wasn’t too proud of. All he wanted was to cherish his time with you and to let go of the things that have haunted him in the past. He would take it if it meant being with you could bring him temporary happiness.

And that he would ensure that you would never find out about the Kim Sunwoo of the past.

You couldn’t believe it when your friend Lyla had just dumped all the information towards you on just one FaceTime call.

It all started a couple of weeks back when you first got her to find out more about Sunwoo, especially ever since you just couldn’t fathom the thought of why his name sounded so familiar to you.

Even after all of the dates and parties you both had been to, nothing alarming stood out from the guy, and he was a normal celebrity who just wanted to have some fun. Yet, there was something at the back of your mind that just knew there must be something about the guy.

Something mysterious, but harmless.

However, after that video call with Lyla, you couldn’t be so sure anymore.

Instantly, you texted the Sunwoo and said that you needed to see him as soon as possible because you needed answers.

Desperately.

y/n: hey…do you happen to be free for the night? can we meet? that one guy obsessed with Neoguri Ramyun 🦝: never would I have expected for you to text me firsthand…are you finally taking my love proposal into consideration 😘 y/n: sunwoo…not right now please, i just need to see you. that one guy obsessed with Neoguri Ramyun 🦝: wait. y/n you’re not like yourself. did something happened? are you okay? y/n: we’ll talk more when we meet. please that one guy obsessed with Neoguri Ramyun 🦝: i have a schedule tonight, but i can totally meet you at Han River if that’s okay with you y/n: deal. I’ll see you then.

Given that you were out of town for work earlier in the day, you glanced at your watch to see that it was already 6 in the evening. Hastily, you excused yourself from the little afternoon date you were having with your co-workers and quickly took the subway to return to Seoul to meet Sunwoo.

The usual 45-minute train ride back felt like an eternity. You had no idea why you were so nervous, anxious and even terrified about the ordeal. You were still trying your best to take in everything Lyla had said over the call, but you refused to believe that everything—all of the memories you had made with the man himself until now—had all been a facade.

Why go through to this extent? Was everything had been a lie all this while? Were you just a pawn in his games?

The moment you stepped out of the train, your legs guided you straight to where you were supposed to meet. At this point, you were running on autopilot, and you felt that your energy and consciousness were slowly drifting away from you.

By the time you reached the stairs up to the bridge, you lay your eyes upon the familiar figure who was already there. Though, he wasn’t alone.

As you closed in your distance with him, you had just picked up one sentence from the conversation—one that was more than enough to confirm all of the doubts and fears you’ve had up to this point.

She’s just another one of the girls.

“Y-You meant what you said?” You squeaked, and that was enough to make both men turn their heads towards you.

Instantly, tears began streaming down your face as you turned your heel and started running in the opposite direction, not caring if he was chasing and screaming your name out loud in the middle of the night.

I’m done with men.

Act 6 (여섯): True Colors

If you talked about being one’s soulmate, Eric Sohn knew that best when finding the right friend with whom you can connect on a whole different level. The word “soulmate” meant a lot to him—someone who is more than just a friend, one that the universe has just seemed to create specially just for you.

Sunwoo and Eric go all the way back to their trainee days when they were both training to become idols instead of a band. They clicked right off the bat, and the first thing they did was sneak out in the middle of the night to get some ramen at their local convenience store.

They have got in so much trouble together in the past, to the point that they had to be placed in detention by their managers and company staff multiple times, but that was all the joy and fun with that for the both of them.

Eric had always wanted a brother, and so did Sunwoo. Even though they weren’t related by blood, their chemistry was incomparable to the others in the company. They did everything together—songwriting, sharing their meals together when they had barely enough to survive, and even taking the late-night buses to travel to another town or city during their breaks.

Eventually, they decided that being in a band would better suit them as idols, and they did everything they could with the little amount of cash in their pockets and left. Of course, it came as a shocker to everyone, be it from their family members or friends or even to the company since they would potentially debut in their next upcoming new boy group. But both of them knew that there was a much better place and opportunity for them.

They have spent countless of days sleeping in the local parks or subways, each taking turns to look out for one another while job hunting in the local restaurants or cafes while they were at it to earn some cash. Eventually, both of them bought their very own instruments from a second-hand store and started busking on the streets.

Nobody knew how to appreciate their music at the beginning, but their hard work has definitely paid off in the long run. They never once gave up, eventually earning ten and hundreds of pedestrians who would stop by to enjoy the music while giving them some tips.

At the same time, they ventured around Seoul to find similar members who were willing to share the same dream and passion as they did, and that was when they encountered the rest of the members. With Kevin's help (since he had some contacts within the music industry), they were able to sign with their current company and eventually debut as a successful band.

Since both Eric and Sunwoo had already been on the internet for quite some time before debuting, they already have garnered enough fans to start off fresh and strong, which earned them their very first win on the local music awards show that very same year.

Years passed, and they were now one of Seoul's biggest and most successful boy bands. Eventually, their words spread out, reaching almost every entity in South Korea. They had everything, and there was nothing to lose.

But there was one thing that constantly bothered the man himself: Sunwoo’s past.

When it comes to romance, Eric often takes it seriously, and frankly, he knows best about it. Both Eric and Sunwoo had something in common: they were flirtatious as hell, and they knew how to get the girls. But there was a significant difference between them: Eric knew when to draw the line.

Given his profession, getting into a serious relationship meant trouble for his career and company. If he really wanted to find love, he would definitely have waited for the right moment to do so because he knew that both personal and business relations should not co-exist in the same duration.

Sure, he knew how to satisfy a woman, but he would never stoop as low as to play with their feelings. He always loved being fully transparent about them, which has always worked out for him.

However, Sunwoo didn’t, which frustrated his friend all the time.

Eric knew about his past with his ex—it made him the way he was when it came to romance. He couldn’t blame Sunwoo after all of the traumatic experiences He had gone through, especially when he did not deserve any of those in the slightest. But yet, it angers the male, and he has been trying to do something to help him get over it for years.

It just so happened that you had to come into the picture.

Eric and the rest of the band thought nothing much about your “encounter” with Sunwoo; they often brushed it off as a silly and hilarious experience because you accidentally took his phone instead of yours. However, things changed when Sunwoo started hanging out with you more often and even invited you to their parties.

There was nothing wrong with you joining their scene, but it was how Eric noticed how Sunwoo had been treating you.

Just like he did to all of the previous girls.

Though, Eric knew that you were different to all of the other girls who had gotten involved with Sunwoo in the past. You seemed a lot more mature and outgoing, and you were never afraid to voice your honest yet brutal opinions about the guy—which is also why the band had taken quite a liking towards you.

Unfortunately for the previous girls, they wanted to get close with the band—specifically towards Sunwoo—and get involved with all of the games he was about to pull. That was why many of them seemingly fell too easily into his traps and manipulation.

Because of that, Eric wasn’t ready to see a pure and humble girl like you crumble down. As his best friend, he was going to try his best to make things right.

To make sure that history wasn’t going to repeat itself.

“Alright boys, let’s take it from the top!” Sunwoo announced, after going through with everyone about their latest hit, that they would make it into their latest album.

They had been in the studio since noon, rehearsing nonstop. They insisted that they would push through to get this new album out for their third anniversary. They wanted to try out a whole new concept this time—something that portrayed all those years they had been through as trainees.

This new track, Hurt Me Less, is all about the end of a previous relationship and the beginning of a new one.

As the co-writer of the song, Eric himself found it ironic that Sunwoo decided to use this as the title track, given that he knew exactly how Sunwoo had treated all the girls in the past, including you.

So many things went through his mind when he first heard it and he was allowed to co-write it with him. Was this Sunwoo’s way of finally acknowledging his past mistakes and that he was ready to move on and see romantic relationships from a different perspective?

Eric had wanted to confront his friend for the longest time, but it just wasn’t the right timing to do so—especially when the both of them often get caught up with work, and nothing else would come to mind when they’re in the studio.

Since they finally had a little time before their next schedule later at night, Eric decided to take Sunwoo to Han River for a little stroll and perhaps finally get a glimpse of his friend’s thoughts after so long.

“Don’t you miss it?” Eric nudged his friend's shoulder as they walked through the river. This used to be their favourite place to escape from reality, after all, in their earlier days.

“The hell are you being so sentimental today? I’m pretty sure you have got something up your sleeves to call me out like that,” Sunwoo spat.

Apparently, that angered Eric, and he quickly slapped his friend in the arm. “Can’t we just go back to the good old times and take things slowly for a bit? We have been so busy preparing for the new album lately and haven’t gotten much time to hang out like we used to.”

“Sure, but it’s finally our third anniversary, and I really want to make it special this time,” Sunwoo chuckled as he buried both hands in his jacket.

Since Sunwoo has touched on the topic of interest, it was time for Eric to get to the point gradually. “Say, about this new song and album…what inspired you to choose this theme?”

His friend thought about it for a while and gave an open-ended answer. “Nothing much. I just felt it would be nice to do something different. After all, music is all about experimenting with different genres.”

“Are you sure it’s just that?”

That was enough to make Sunwoo stop in his tracks as he narrowed his eyes towards his friend. “Youngjae-ah, what exactly are you trying to fish out from me?”

Eric knew that whenever Sunwoo used his birth name, the conversation would turn 180 degrees as there would be no room for any jokes or mischievous acts. The gig was up, and he knew he had to speak out his deepest thoughts.

“Sunwoo. I’m going to ask you a question, and you’ll have to answer me truthfully.” Eric then walks up to his friend, grabs hold of his shoulder and takes in a deep breath before he poses his question. “This whole new album…the title track…are any of these meant to be about your past?”

“Or more specifically, about Y/N?”

That was enough to make Sunwoo widen his eyes and stare deeply into his friend’s. Given that his response was merely a sigh and lowering his head, he probably knew this would happen sooner or later. Eric knew Sunwoo best, after all.

“What exactly have you deduced this time, Mr Holmes?” Sunwoo mocked.

“Don’t play games with me, Sunwoo. I need to know the truth.”

“Why? Are you interested in Y/N?” He scoffed, and that was enough to make Eric’s blood boil.

“No. But I do not like how you’re dragging her into your unnecessary mess, just like you did with all the other girls.”

Now, that was when Sunwoo was the one who got all worked up, and he immediately pushed his friend away roughly. Rage began to overtake his way of thinking logically, and he was now balling up his fists while trying his best to contain himself.

“We don’t talk about that.”

“Well, we have to! Sunwoo, you need to stop running away from your problems and face them head-on. You’ll never overcome your fears if you live like this daily!” Eric raised his voice, and Sunwoo returned the favour by grabbing onto his collar.

“It’s not your life. You have no rights or say so based on what I have experienced in the past. So I suggest you shut your mouth before making me do something I regret.”

“Fine by me. If that’s what your true colours are. If only Y/N is here to see you in this state-”

“The hell are you bringing up Y/N again in all of this? Why do you care?”

“Because you’re in love with her, you goddamn idiot!”

That was enough for Sunwoo to let go of his friend’s collar finally, and he began pacing around while ruffling his hair in frustration.

“So I was right,” Eric panted.

“T-That’s not true. I don’t have feelings for Y/N.”

“How can you be so sure? Your actions have proved otherwise these past several weeks, Sunwoo. Stop lying to yourself.”

“Never. Romance and dating no longer exist in my books. She’s just another one of the girls.”

With that, Eric suddenly gulped before he directed his attention to something, or rather, someone that was now behind his friend.

“Y-You meant what you said?”

Oh god, this was now much more messed up than it should’ve been.

Before either of them could have a say in all of these, you instantly turned your heel towards the opposite direction. You began sprinting away, not even caring when Sunwoo was screaming for you and about to dash towards your direction.

Until Eric gripped onto his wrists forcefully and yanked his friend back.

“You scumbag.” That was all he said until Eric tried his best to keep up with you.

Kim Sunwoo, what an actual jerk you are.

Act 7 (일곱): Love To Lay

Sunwoo couldn’t remember when was the last time he actually got proper sleep without having to rely on his sleeping pills. It wasn’t by choice; rather, it’s something he has been struggling with for over a year now.

Being obsessed with shoujo mangas, there’s no doubt he absolutely enjoys romance novels and films, which was also one of the reasons he could click on Eric so well. They would often have book or film talk sessions after practice, discussing the latest trend and evaluating the way the characters proposed to one another in their respective ways.

Also, being a social butterfly himself, he had been on the party scene for years now, and there was no doubt he had gotten a good handful of female friends he would often hang out with his group of friends in the past.

Which was also where he met his first and only girlfriend, Miyeon.

Miyeon was known as the beauty queen of the town, as the locals would dub her. She was well respected in the community as she was at the top of her class and often participated in volunteer work during her semester breaks from university.

It was ironic to see a top student visit a club during the late weekday nights. Still, Sunwoo figured that everyone would eventually venture into the party scene at least once in their lifetime, no matter how good their upbringing was. It was part of youth, after all.

It all started with them having a little conversation, followed by a bit of alcohol in their system, and then straight onto the dance floor before they ended up with a little makeout session at one of the stalls. It was Sunwoo’s first relationship, and he thought the pace they were going for was pretty reasonable.

Miyeon was everything to him, and he would work around his tight-knit schedule to spend as much time as he could with her—even if that meant he would be getting less sleep or rest after a show.

After all, he had never found someone who came as close as she did. They had the same interests and hobbies and could talk about any topic for hours on his couch. Miyeon would often come over to stay at Sunwoo’s apartment since it was much more convenient for them both.

She even had a set of her own clothing, skincare and up to having her makeup products at his place. She was pretty much treating his place like her second home, and Sunwoo was completely fine with that.

They even talked about getting engaged once, and Sunwoo was ecstatic about the thought, and he couldn’t stop giving her cuddles and kisses that day. Ever since then, he started working tirelessly to get the engagement ring that he’d had his eyes on for a while, and he knew that it would suit Miyeon’s taste.

However, Miyeon started getting a lot busier not long after as she had recently changed her job, and she wasn’t able to meet up with Sunwoo as often anymore. Hence, their dates slowly dropped down to having three to only once per week, or sometimes only meeting each other just once a fortnight.

As much as Sunwoo was worried that she was working way too hard she should, there was no reason to doubt her since she always excelled at everything that she had done. She was still texting Sunwoo every day without fail on Kakao, so everything was under control.

At least, that was what Sunwoo thought.

Since it was going to be her birthday soon and he finally had gotten his first paycheck after a successful first The Boyz concert, he was able to use that to get his hands on the engagement ring that he had asked the shopkeepers to keep for him for a couple of months now.

Eagerly, he walked out of the store with the blue Tiffany & Co. bag in his hands as he made his way towards her apartment to surprise her.

Until he focused his attention on the couple on the other side of the road.

The couple both held ice cream in their hands as they played around with the dessert playfully, taking some with their fingers and smearing it across each other’s noses. They were also laughing and having a lot of fun—way too much fun, actually.

At least, Miyeon was.

Sunwoo wasn’t sure how he would confront Miyeon about it—in fact, he couldn’t. Sure, he was confused as hell, but the thought of Miyeon potentially having an affair outside this relationship seemed unlikely. He couldn’t fathom the thought of her doing that, and he refused to believe it and was convinced that it must be a sick joke.

That night, Sunwoo tried his best to make everything seem normal as he entered Miyeon’s apartment. Miyeon was showering him with kisses and telling him all about how she was sorry for being late as she was out shopping for ingredients for their sukiyaki dinner date.

Lies.

At that point, they hadn’t seen each other for two weeks, and Miyeon went on and on about how she was away for a business trip and had just returned to Seoul that evening. It was hard for her to hail a cab as they were all pretty much booked until she needed to contact one of her colleagues to give her a ride back into the city and return home.

Lies.

After that, they had a little movie night and spent much time cuddling on the couch. It would’ve been a lie to say Sunwoo didn’t miss her scent. He just couldn’t help but rest his nose into her soft brunette hair and savour as much of the scent he had loved so deeply over the past year of their relationship.

“I miss your scent too, Sunwoo. It’s been hell without having you beside me for weeks,” Miyeon sulked as she hugged Sunwoo tighter.

Lies.

Even as they went to sleep that night in Miyeon’s room, Sunwoo could clearly feel a distance between the two. Miyeon was sleeping on her side, so her back was facing him. As much as he wanted to touch her, to carry and hold her in his arms, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

We are just strangers in a bed.

Sunwoo went on like this for a month, ignoring all of the red flags that he had been getting and seeing for the past several weeks—he kept convincing himself that he was living in a horrible nightmare and it would soon be over.

As Miyeon started getting busier again with her “work,” Sunwoo returned to focus more on his career. Ultimately, this was a huge failure, as his performance started deteriorating horribly, to the point that it was affecting the other members in the group.

Every time the members confronted him about it, Sunwoo just shrugged it off, saying that he hadn’t gotten much sleep because of their busy schedule. However, they knew deep down that something was very much off, and Eric was determined to find out exactly what had happened.

One night after their pre-recording at Music Bank, Sunwoo went out for a little walk around the area, and Eric followed behind discreetly. It didn’t even take Sunwoo more than five minutes until he had come to a halt, and Eric did exactly the same until his eyes travelled along where Sunwoo had landed.

Miyeon was accepting what seemed like an engagement ring from the very same guy Sunwoo had his eyes on the other day.

Rage instantly filled him, and this time, he couldn’t help but confront them straight ahead. He desperately had hoped that Miyeon would feel a little remorse or at least appear shocked to see that her boyfriend had caught her red-handed. After all, Sunwoo just wanted answers as he wasn’t in the mood to make this a huge deal.

But apparently, Miyeon didn’t think of that in the same way.

The heated conversation between the two of them would always come to haunt Sunwoo, and he would never forget about all of the things Miyeon had just spat right into his face back then.

Love is just a pretend.

Your love for me is crazy.

You’ll never be the right one for me.

Since that day, Sunwoo’s hatred for romance has constantly grown, and he often has a couple of outbursts, especially when he is alone in his apartment. How couldn’t he? Especially when Miyeon’s stuff was scattered all throughout his comfort space.

To make matters worse, Miyeon even had the guts to contact Sunwoo after all that she had done to make him return all of her things that were still left in his apartment.

Did Sunwoo do just that?

Absolutely not.

He got rid of every item she owned— throwing them into the trash or burning them in his fireplace. Anger would always accompany him whenever he did so, and it frustrated him that Miyeon would betray him like that.

It was then that Sunwoo decided that romance was just total bullshit and there would never be such a thing of true love for him. He blocked her number and deleted everything that reminded him about her.

Sunwoo felt like he was on autopilot for the first couple of months, and he would just go out to the nightclubs every day and pick up every girl he could find and tease them a little. Eventually, when the girls started having feelings for him, he would run away before anything further than that could happen.

Love was like a game for him now, and it didn’t matter if he would break those girls' hearts. All he wanted was to feel the thrill of being loved and wanted, and if he had gotten what he needed, then that was fine by him.

He couldn’t face rejection again. What happened with him and Miyeon has left a deep scar within him, and he’ll never be able to fix it. He has learned it the hard way from that breakup.

Until you came into the picture.

It was definitely the first time someone mistook their phone as theirs and accidentally took his instead. He found it amusing, and he absolutely found your reaction back during the first encounter hilarious. He genuinely just enjoyed your company that night.

But there was something different about you—you weren’t like all the other girls he had encountered at the nightclubs. You were just so pure and genuine, and you didn’t want him just for his flirtatious demeanour and good looks. You were savage as hell, and you always spoke the truth and made him laugh.

It has been a while since someone could put Sunwoo back into his place.

That’s why he couldn’t bear the thought of doing the nasty when you brought him to the club that night. He knew that the moment he got a sip of alcohol into his system, he wasn’t going to be able to hold himself back from doing something he was going to regret.

Miraculously, he did. He was able to stop himself before things got too far. The both of you only had a heated makeout session before Sunwoo finally grabbed your wrist and stopped you in your tracks. He had no choice but to drag you all the way back into his vehicle before driving off to his apartment.

As much as he wanted to bring you straight back home, you were already sleeping so soundly on the way back, and he knew that he was definitely going to get killed by your roommate if she saw her friend in this state. Ultimately, he did what he thought was best—taking you back into his apartment and helping you change into much more comfortable clothing before tucking you into bed.

Sunwoo slept on the couch next to his bed that night, and he couldn’t stop looking in your direction as you tossed and turned around all night. It was clear to him that you were having a horrible nightmare, and you kept mumbling incoherent words as you began sweating profoundly.

He had enough and decided to get up and sit right next to you, and that was when he heard your words loud and clear.

“Please don’t hurt me…I’ve done nothing wrong…Don’t leave me…”

Instantly, you grabbed his wrist and hugged it tightly as you adjusted your sleeping position towards him. Sunwoo had no idea why that made him go all soft for you, and he instantly began rubbing away the tears from your eyes and leaned down to give a little peck on your forehead.

He wished he could’ve done something to relieve your pain and that he would snuggle with you to bed if that would have made it a lot better for you to sleep soundly for the night.

But he knew that once the sun rises the next day, he would go back to being the playboy Kim Sunwoo that the public had labelled him to be.

You’re in love with her.

Those words pierced right through Sunwoo’s heart every single time his mind flashed back to that night when Eric confronted him right before you came.

He hasn’t spoken to his good friend since, and it has been close to a week now. Sunwoo decided to call in sick for the week, and the rest of the members went on with rehearsals without him—he wasn’t in the right mindset to put on his idol persona anyway.

The couch right next to his fireplace was his go-to for the past week, and Sunwoo would just sit there for hours staring into the flames, thinking about those words that his friend had said right to his face that day.

It was as if those were the words that needed to be said straight to his face, for he knew that his relationship with yours meant something—a lot more compared to all of the other girls that he had gotten involved with in the past.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, you were slowly breaking down his steel heart, which had been sealed shut for years. Little did you know that you were slowly healing his broken heart day by day. Sunwoo adored everything about you, and you were constantly on his mind throughout the day.

You have officially taken over his mind; everything he does daily reminds him of you.

But Sunwoo just couldn’t admit that out loud. After he had sworn that he was done with romance, he couldn't.

However, Sunwoo had been sitting at his fireplace for days, and he kept thinking throughout the day and night.

What if you were the key to fixing him?

What if you were finally the one who would make him realise it’s okay to fall in love again?

What if…you were the right one that was meant to be with him?

With that, Sunwoo leaned back against his couch with his hands covering his eyes as he grunted for the hundredth time of the day.

Stop messing things up, you good-for-nothing idiot.

Act 8 (여덟): A Lonely Night

You couldn’t recall when was the last time you actually got a proper meal. Ever since that day when you overhead the conversation between Sunwoo and Eric, you were dashing straight towards the streets, not caring if people were giving you weird looks in the slightest.

You quickly hail a taxi and give the driver your apartment address—you just don’t have the strength to take public transport anymore in your current state.

The moment you opened your front door, your roommate was already expecting your return, with her arms crossed and feet tapping the ground. However, her expression softened when she saw that you were an absolute wreck in your current state. She immediately opened her arms wide, and you quickly slipped into her embrace and started crying again.

It hurts so much, and you don’t know why exactly that is.

Sunwoo was just a casual friend. You were both hanging out a lot more often these days, and he just so happened to be the very first man after your ex to have treated you exactly the way a woman should be treated. That was it, and there wasn’t much more to add to that.

But deep down, you were expecting—no, hoping—that perhaps there was something a little bit more to that.

Maybe you’re the one who was insane for thinking that way.

He was a celebrity, and you are just a girl working in PR who happened to be able to work with renowned artists many times.

There was absolutely no way that there could’ve been something more to that.

You quickly wiped away your tears as you slowly pushed Flo away, trying your best to muster up whatever strength you had left within you to talk before your tears were about to flow again for the hundredth time tonight.

“Flo…I just…I wanna go back,” you sniffled.

With a sigh, your roommate began rubbing your back to comfort you. “I know. But rest up first for the night. Maybe I’ll make you some chamomile tea with extra boba to calm you down while we watch a little bit of Netflix? I’ll help you pack tomorrow morning, and we’ll call Lyla and Bella.”

You chuckled. “What would I ever do without you?”

“By the way, I’m not doing all of these for free. You better get me VIP tickets to your next upcoming show with whoever celeb that you’re going to be working with.”

“Deal.”

“Alright, let’s go have some girls’ night, shall we?” Flo gently flicked your forehead before dragging you into the living room.

You couldn’t recall when you last enjoyed the countryside view from the train.

You usually take the subway within Seoul, but it’s been a while since you took the train that goes from one province to another—especially where you grew up.

Leaving Busan a year ago was a huge step for you, especially since you have always lived with your friends and family—basically being in your own comfort zone. You loved everything here, and there wasn’t much reason to move since Busan practically had almost everything Seoul had.

The nightlife here was how you’ve always loved—going out to clubs while you knew almost everyone in your little town on the outskirts of Busan, and everyone just looked out for each other often.

However, after the way things ended with your ex, you needed some time and space alone and thought that perhaps a location change would benefit you. The past year has been amazing in the city, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’ll never give you the comfort you loved best when you were back home.

And that was something you desperately needed right now.

As soon as the train came to a halt and you stepped out of the vehicle, you quickly dashed right through the door and into both of your friends’ arms—they had been expecting your arrival since this morning.

It’s been a while since you had spent time with both Lyla and Bella, so the three of you took the time to walk slowly back to the countryside while dragging your luggage behind you. As soon as they helped you settle down in your old home, the three of you quickly dashed out of the house to get a quick bite of local food down at the town centre.

The three of you had fun browsing from store to store and filling your stomachs to the brink of possibly throwing up everything you had just consumed. You would constantly laugh at one another about how Lyla and Bella would look silly with ice cream smeared all over their mouths, and they would fight back when you accidentally got Malatang all over your shirt.

These were the kinds of bickering that you’ve missed so badly. Sure, you always bicker with Flo, but both Lyla and Bella were the OGs constantly coming for your neck. You’re still holding onto the hope of bringing Flo to visit your childhood best friends someday.

Now that the three of you had your own flavours of churros in hand, you decided to take a little stroll at the nearby park right before exiting the town and returning to the countryside. As soon as you found a comfortable bench that was more than enough for the three of you to take a break, Lyla was the first to start the conversation you have been dreading talking about since coming back.

But you knew that you couldn’t hide much from them any more; they knew all of the details by now (thanks to Flo, who would constantly keep them updated) and were this close to heading straight to Seoul with their pots and pans to head straight up to Sunwoo’s apartment to give him a lesson.

“I honestly don’t know what to tell you guys. It all happened, and he just so happened to be the same as my ex,” you shrugged as you took a bite of your churros.

“Men are all the same; they suck,” Lyla commented with her mouth full.

“Trust that I’m tying him up and throwing him straight into the Egyptian river if we ever cross paths with one another,” Bella threatened as she pointed her churros straight into your face.

“But wait…didn’t you mention that they were preparing for an upcoming comeback?” Lyla asked.

You sighed. “That’s the problem. And I am again part of the PR team's line-up.”

“Damn. That’s brutal,” Bella spat.

“It sure is,” you replied.

“Well, what are you going to do about it then?” Lyla asked.

You contemplated for a little while before telling your friends about your decision: “I am thinking of quitting the company.”

Immediately, both Lyla and Bella shot up from their seats, not caring if the whipped cream on their churros fell straight down to the ground. Frustration was slowly creeping up to them and you were stunned by their reaction—you had no clue why they would be mad about your decision.

“What do you mean you want to leave? You do know that means that you’ll never get to meet celebrities any more-”

“That’s not the point, Lyla. Look, Y/N. I don’t want to jinx anything, but you’re treating this issue as running away again, just like you did with your ex. You know, escaping from your problems will never help you to put a proper closure to them.”

You hated the fact how much that truth hurt—it almost felt like you were being stabbed with a bunch of needles all at once. As much as you wanted to face them properly, you couldn’t. You couldn’t bear the thought of going through all the pain once again, and you wanted to omit all of the horrible outcomes that could potentially happen after all this.

You also didn’t know how to feel about Sunwoo. Clearly, it wasn’t his fault for saying what he did back at Han River. Celebrities are not meant to date as to adhere to their company rules. If they did, they would get into big trouble, and you would be partly to blame.

But why did that matter to you so much?

Why did those words sting as hell?

Most importantly, why did it matter to you anyway?

As you took a deep breath, you finally stood up and threw your leftover churros into the bin before placing both hands on each side of your friends’ shoulders.

“Look, I appreciate both of you constantly looking out for me, even in different cities for work. Frankly, I don’t really want to talk about this anymore, and I will venture out to find something much more fitting for my current well-being. Let’s just go home now, hmm?”

Both Lyla and Bella could only soften their eyes as they looked at you, who was close to shedding tears again. They could only pull you in for a hug before taking you back to your home and giving you some time to rest up since you have been out all day since you stepped down from the train.

Your parents were away visiting some family members, so you had the entire house to yourself. You were used to being alone, and you enjoyed some peace and quiet occasionally, but it all just felt too eerily quiet.

The emotions were creeping back to you, and you hated how you were slowly becoming overwhelmed with them again.

Everything you saw reminded you about Sunwoo—how you both would sit together on his couch to watch anime, the way the leftover instant ramen in the kitchen reminded you about your little convenience store dates and how you slept in his bed when you were passed out drunk.

As much as you tried your best to get him out of your head, you couldn’t.

And you hated that so much.

Just as you are about to turn to sleep on your side, your phone lights up on your nightstand, so you extend your hands to check the notification that you have received.

managing director: Lads, be ready for our online briefing tomorrow at 10 a.m. on Zoom about The Boyz's upcoming showcase.

Frustration began to consume your thoughts, and you just threw your phone onto the other side of the bed before burying your face into your pillow, screaming into it and wishing that you could quickly escape from this horrible nightmare.

Kim Sunwoo, this is all your fault.

Miles apart back in the heart of Seoul, Sunwoo was once again staring at his ceiling as he lay down on his bed. There was nothing much that he could’ve done other than thinking about you wherever he went. With that, the bed was nowhere near as good as his fireplace, especially when he was the one who tucked you into his bed when you were drunk.

Sunwoo hasn’t come up with a conclusion after all that thinking at his fireplace throughout the week, and it frustrates him that he doesn’t really know how to feel about all of this.

Actually, scratch that. He clearly knows how he feels about you, but he refuses to admit it out loud.

The only thing that has been helping Sunwoo to cope is that he would feel inspired to write songs about his emotions, and he did exactly just did right before hopping into bed.

The music score was situated right on his nightstand, and he groaned before taking it quickly and sat up to read the lyrics that he had just written down an hour ago.

Better when we’re both apart. We’re no good for each other. A lonely night, Baby girl, I loved you on a lonely night. It was the only time If I led you on I apologize. How can I make you rethink your decision?

That made Sunwoo’s jaw dropped. He didn’t know that he wrote all of these the hour before—it was as if he was on autopilot, and he clearly wrote down his deepest thoughts about the whole situation.

I loved her? Did I really just write that down?

Sunwoo kept staring at those three words, and he was now sitting frozen in bed, thinking that if that was really what he had been meaning to say out loud for so long.

Without thinking much, he quickly grabbed his phone and began frantically searching up about something.

Or rather, your location.

He needed to get this off his chest, and he needed to talk to you right now. If he doesn’t, this will continue to haunt him for months, and he wasn’t going to be his best self any more.

Immediately, he jumped right out of bed and rummaged through his wardrobe to take whatever he needed for the little short trip he was going on for a while.

He didn’t care if his manager would lecture him about skipping the morning rehearsals and meetings—it was the most important thing to him right now.

Even if that meant he would be miles away from Seoul, he would get his message straight and clear to you this time.

Act 9 (아홉): Nothing Without You

If it hadn’t been for Lyla and Bella calling you nonstop for thirty minutes, you would’ve been in big trouble and missed out on your online meeting with your colleagues.

You did your best to stay focused during the meeting—jotting down all the information required to run the show successfully in three days. It was a lot to take in, and all of you were expected to perform your very best, considering that this would be a rather crucial showcase for the artist, and many important figures from the industry would also be there.

It seemed as if their company decided to go all out to make sure that the showcase was going to be as grand as possible, and the only thing you could assume was that they had to keep up with the image that they had painted in the industry and continue to keep their artist’s popularity at its best.

Certain things did frustrate you a little, and so many questions ran through your mind as you questioned their company's decisions. But you were just someone who works in PR, and all you had to do was adhere to the rules and regulations and nothing else.

After all, you decided you would quit after this one last show.

The moment the meeting was over, and you decided to shut your laptop down, you could briefly hear some muffled noises coming from your front porch. You were confused as hell since you weren’t expecting any visitors for the day. Other than that, you told your friends that you would only be available during the night for some get-together at dinner since you needed some time alone in the afternoon to sort out the upcoming event.

Curiously, you slowly stepped to your front door before pulling the sliding door apart, only to see that both Lyla and Bella were far from your house. It seemed as if they were arguing about something…or rather, with someone.

Now, you were more concerned than before. The only person who could get both your friends this riled up was your ex, and that confrontation between them did not go down well the last time it happened—which was also the last time you saw him.

As far as you know, your ex was long gone from your village, and he had moved all the way to Jeju to settle down with his new fiancé. So, who exactly could it be this time?

“Guys, what did I say about having a heated argument in front of my house-”

You were about to break your friends up from the commotion until all three of them turned back to look straight at you.

And you were certainly not expecting the one in the middle of your friends to be here at all.

“S-Sunwoo?”

“N-No! Y/N, you must be real tired from the meeting, hmm? Why don’t I take you inside to get some ice-cream that’s left in your freezer? Yeah, let’s do exactly that!” Lyla began panicking as she tried to lure you away from the scene, but she should’ve known how persistent you could be and that you were already breaking free from her grasp.

Neither of you could say anything and just stared at one another for a good ten seconds. However, your friends definitely did not take the situation well, and they were not ready to see you cry your eyes out for the hundredth time.

“You don’t belong here, Kim. I say you should leave, and don’t you even dare try anything stupid,” Bella hissed.

“Look, I’m going to leave, that is after I talk to Y/N-”

“What is there to talk about? Was hurting her not enough for you? You men truly are scumbags-”

“Lyla, enough.”

Your response was short and simple, but it was enough to make everyone stop what they were doing and divert their attention towards you. You slowly walked up to Sunwoo and gently grabbed his shirt to gesture to him to walk in the other direction.

“Leave us alone for a couple of minutes. I believe there’s a long-overdue conversation that both of us must get out of the way for weeks. I won’t take long, I promise.”

With that, you excused yourself and tugged Sunwoo’s tee to walk him through your neighbourhood and slowly towards the park where you often hung out with your friends. Neither of you could start the conversation, and it was just pure silence throughout the ten-minute walk from your house.

However, Sunwoo figured food was the best option to start the conversation. Thankfully, there was a convenience store near the park, and the two of you quickly went in to grab a little snack to break the ice between you hopefully.

He went for his Neoguri Ramyeon as usual, and you decided a little matcha latte would do the trick. You don’t think that you’re able to stomach anything for now, just in case you will cry once again and could potentially throw up everything you had just consumed.

As much as you detested that he once again paid for everything, you reluctantly accepted the offer and quietly held your warm cup of beverage in hand as you both sat down at the bench in the park, keeping a distance from one another.

All you could do was stare down at the lid of the latte, your fingers tapping on the hot cup while trying your best to calm your emotions down. Sunwoo was busy slurping away his noodles, and it was slowly starting to annoy you slightly.

“You still have the appetite to eat?” You scoffed.

“Look, I had to get last-minute tickets for the earliest train from Seoul to Busan. Be grateful that at least I’ve arrived on time,” Sunwoo protested while stuffing his mouth with the noodles.

You wished you could respond to his sarcasm the way you usually would, but it seemed that the enthusiasm you once had for all that was now long gone, and you could only clear your throat in response.

Sunwoo was now clearly reading the atmosphere, and he swallowed the last bite of his noodles before tossing the cup into the trash bin beside him. Instantly, he placed both hands together and began rubbing them nervously as he leaned down to look at the ground.

“Y/N, I…I’ve been such a jerk to you after everything we have been through. It’s unfair for you, and I have been deceiving myself after all these years.”

That last line caught you off guard. “Excuse me?”

“I once had a girl whom I loved so much that my world revolved around her. She was my everything, and I wouldn’t hesitate to drop whatever I was doing to be with her and to make her the happiest girl in the world. But betrayal and lust are definitely not planned in the books, and they are truly the most unpleasant things that happen to someone in life.”

You knew those two words very well. After all, you were also a victim once.

“She…did unthinkable things, which has made me the person I am today. I ignored it long enough, thinking it was fine to continue living like this. That is, until I met you,” Sunwoo’s voice softened at that last line, and he finally lifted his head to look straight into your eyes.

“Y/N. You showed me what true friendship is, and I fell in love with how you could always be so pure and honest with your feelings and emotions. You made me realise that what I have been doing wasn’t just hurting and deceiving others and myself. I can’t live on like this, and I desperately want to change.”

Sunwoo took one of your hands and intertwined his fingers with yours, giving you this soft puppy look to show his sincerity.

“Y/N. I need you. Will you please accept this offer?”

You were too stunned to give him a proper response. You were certain that you probably spent a minute just staring at him before you felt that your cheeks were suddenly wet to the touch, and that’s when you realised that tears were streaming down your face again.

Sure, you have expected Sunwoo to travel all this way to see you and to talk things out, but you weren’t expecting a confession from the male himself.

Relief swept over you, and all the worries troubling you were gone. Unfortunately, the heartbreak was far stronger than the latter, and you don’t have the room or strength to go through the turmoil again.

With that, you gently pushed his hands away and stood up from the bench, wiping your tears away before turning your heel in the opposite direction.

“Maybe you should’ve thought all that through before placing the nail in the coffin.”

Act 10 (열): Die For You

Coming back to Seoul was a lot harder than you expected it to be. You were this close to potentially ditching your final job and just calling in sick, but you knew it wouldn’t be ideal, and you had promised to work together with your team for one last time.

After dropping by the office to hand in your resignation letter, you made your way towards the concert hall and went straight to work without having a proper break before everything. It was all fine by you; after all, getting yourself occupied was the very least you could do to keep your mind off things for a while.

However, you underestimated the workload you would deal with, as their showcase this time seemed a lot more complex than the ones you were used to. There were a few mishaps here and there, but that didn’t stop you from continuing your task.

T-minus 12 hours more till I’m done with all of these.

Having that as a constant reminder has proven to be a lot more helpful than before, and slowly, your motivation was coming back to finishing up things as quickly and detailed as you could before the showcase was about to begin.

Journalists and newscasters flocked to the venue first, and your PR team had to deal with them firsthand. It wasn’t too bad, as talking to people has always been your forte. Just like that, it was time for the fans to enter the hall slowly. Soon enough, you and your team headed backstage to help the artists and other staff prepare for the show.

The band members slowly stepped out one by one and started putting on their in-ear pieces and getting their instruments ready. Of course, Sunwoo still had that same puppy-doe-eyed look as he had the day before back in Busan.

He was constantly trying his best to grab your attention—giving you a hiss or a little wave, but you had no desire to return those to him. Instead, you flat-out ignored the guy and constantly got yourself busy by going around to each station to check with the other staff.

It wasn’t long before the members were scheduled to go up on stage, and Sunwoo gave you one final look and mouthed something towards you before taking that step up to greet the fans.

Watch me.

You could only sigh and cross your arms as you watched from backstage as The Boyz first greeted all of their fans and the reporters before positioning their instruments to prepare for the first opening act. They started with their title track, Hurt Me Less, and soon followed it with a few more tracks from the album before having a little Q&A session with the fans.

Finally, they ended the showcase by performing one last song before all of the members walked up to the front of the stage and bowed towards the audience. One by one, each member was exiting the stage and started to take off their in-ear pieces.

That is, all except for Sunwoo.

He stood frozen for a few seconds on stage, and immediately, whispers filled the hall, thinking that everything was alright with the artist himself.

Not for long, Sunwoo lifted his head and walked back to the centre of the stage—adjusting his microphone and slinging his guitar on his shoulders again.

Obviously, everyone backstage started panicking and tried their best to get Sunwoo off the stage, as it was not going according to the schedule. You, too, were trying to hiss at the male to get his attention, call it a night, and end the performance right there and there.

But it seemed the male had something in mind, and he wouldn’t budge.

Instead, he turned to look straight at you and gave you a little smile before diverting his attention towards the crowd once again.

“I apologise for the sudden change of plans, but this is something that I have been meaning to do for a while now. You see, we performed all seven tracks in our latest album, but one hidden track has not yet been released to the public. So here I am tonight, revealing the hidden track to all of my precious fans, but most importantly, to a special someone.”

Just then, Sunwoo began strumming his guitar and started playing the song's tune. As he slowly finished the intro and was just about to start singing the lyrics, he turned to look straight at you and smiled at you as he mumbled a few more words.

“This song is specially written and dedicated to you.” I'm findin' ways to articulate the feelin' I'm goin' through I just can't say I don't love you (Yeah) 'Cause I love you, yeah It's hard for me to communicate the thoughts that I hold But tonight, I'm gon' let you know Let me tell the truth Baby, let me tell the truth, yeah

No. That can’t be.

You know what I'm thinkin', see it in your eyes You hate that you want me, hate it when you cry You're scared to be lonely, 'specially in the night I'm scared that I'll miss you, happens every time I don't want this feelin', I can't afford love I try to find a reason to pull us apart It ain't workin' 'cause you're perfect And I know that you're worth it I can't walk away, oh

“W-What…What are you trying to tell me, Sunwoo?” You choked on your words.

Even though we're goin' through it And it makes you feel alone Just know that I would die for you Baby, I would die for you, yeah The distance and the time between us It'll never change my mind 'cause Baby, I would die for you Baby, I would die for you, yeah

As he finishes the first half of the song, Sunwoo takes some time to strum his guitar, letting the audience follow along with the rhythm as he takes a deep breath before making another speech.

“These lyrics…I have been thinking about them for a while now. These feelings have haunted me for weeks, and now I know I must convey them properly to the special someone,” Sunwoo spoke softly before he continued with the second half of the song.

You had no idea why that was the last blow before tears began streaming down your face uncontrollably, and you dashed right through the exit, not caring that your co-workers were calling you from behind.

You continued running through the night, not caring where you’d end up; you just needed some time to be alone and let out all the feelings you had been bottling for so long.

Eventually, you ended up back at Han River, and you immediately went to the nearest bench and lay there helplessly. Your emotions were far stronger than your ability to think logically right now, and you just wanted to cry out loud for as long as you could.

You have no idea how long has passed since then, but you were pretty sure that you had at least cried for half an hour before you dozed off. By the time you woke up, you felt that the rock-solid bench suddenly felt way too soft and comfortable.

And how warm it was.

It was then you realised that you weren’t just lying on the bench but rather on someone.

“S-Sunwoo!?” You screamed as you realised that you had been lying down on his lap for God knows how long, and you quickly tried to sit back up, but the male decided to push you back down instead.

“Now I’m very heartbroken, Princess. How could you leave in the middle of the spectacular performance I’ve spent so long working on, especially for you?” He sulked.

Those last words stung you again, and you lifted both of your hands to cover your face once more as you felt that you were about to cry again. But it seemed that Sunwoo wasn’t buying it this time, and he quickly grabbed both of your wrists to stop you.

“Look at me, Y/N. Stop running away from me,” he commanded.

“W-What makes you think I’d listen to you? You have done nothing but lie to me all this time. You hurt my feelings, and you treated me like one of the girls that you have always sought comfort from. You’re an idiot to think if you’d stand a fair chance-”

Before you could finish your sentence, Sunwoo sealed your lips with his and gently lifted your head slightly to make it easier for him to gain access. It’s been a while since you tasted his soft, plump lips, and you immediately softened up when you tasted that familiar strawberry lip gloss that you used the same one as he did.

As he slowly pulled away and placed you back onto his lap, he caressed your cheeks and wiped the remaining teardrops away. “Sorry that I was rough with you. It was the best thing I could think of to get a woman to stop crying.”

“S-Sunwoo…I-”

“Y/N. Please. I need to hear your thoughts about how you truly feel about this. I know I’m the worst jerk alive and that me going to Busan to apologise to you wasn’t enough. Words aren’t my forte, so I conveyed my feelings through performing. But you have to know that whatever I’ve sung back there, those really are the words that I desperately wanted to get across all this time and that I’m done playing games.”

Just then, he slowly moved his hands from your cheek to your lips and gently brushed against it. “Y/N, I can now confidently say that you mean a lot to me. You’re more than just a friend, a companion who eats Neoguri Ramyun with me all the time at the convenience store, and also the one who just happens to get me all the damn time.”

With one final deep breath, he leans down again to plant a kiss on your forehead before muttering those simple words.

“Y/N, I’m in love with you.”

It was so simple, yet captivating enough for you.

You have so desperately wanted to hear those words from him—to know if it has helped you finally cleared all of your suspicions and doubts from the beginning. To the public, it was absurd for a commoner like you to fall in love with a celebrity and vice versa, but you were certain that those memories that you both have made weren’t just for show, and Sunwoo’s actions and words for the night have proven that enough to you.

Nobody would’ve thought that a simple encounter between you both, exchanging your phones and meeting up at a convenience store to eat, would lead to the current situation that you both were in.

Was it fate? Or just purely a coincidence? Neither of that matters to you right now.

Instead, you snaked one of your hands back up to his neck and pulled him down to connect your lips with his again, taking your time to savour his sweet, plump lips truly. Sunwoo was initially taken aback, but he slowly blended in and began picking up his pace, his tongue swirling around yours.

As soon as you both broke apart to get some air, you realised you had just returned the sneaky and flirtatious Sunwoo as he brushed his fingers on his lips and gave you a sly smirk.

“You could’ve just told me you wanted me this bad,” Sunwoo hummed.

“You’re sick in the head,” you replied as you finally sat back up.

“So…I take it as a yes to my proposal?” Sunwoo grinned.

“What proposal?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Frankly, I don’t.”

“Is that so? Maybe you want to reconnect your lips with mine again? Maybe it’ll then give you a better insight of what I was trying to tell you all along-”

“Your breath stinks,” you stuck your tongue out at him.

“No, it doesn’t!” Sunwoo quickly lets out a breath onto his palm before sniffing it himself. “You liar! I just used my favourite citrus mouthwash before the show!”

You immediately giggled at the sight, and Sunwoo was delighted to see you returning to the Y/N he knew. Just then, he places his arms over your shoulders and rests your head against his chest as you both take the time to admire the sky filled with dozens of stars.

“Say, you’re not supposed to be here, are you?”

“Hey, I’m still a model employee, okay? I quickly wrapped things up at the showcase before rushing to find you sleeping like a baby here.”

“I’m not a baby,” you sulked.

“Your sleeping position says otherwise,” Sunwoo retorted as he shoved his phone right into your face, showing you a picture he had taken just seconds after he arrived to see you sleeping soundly on the bench.

“Hey! Delete that right now!” You screamed as you tried your best to reach for his phone while he was retreating to make you fall right back into his arms again.”

“You’re a persistent one, aren’t you?”

“Shut the fuck up, Kim Sunwoo. You’re insufferable.”

“Be honest, you love me.”

“Only a fool would love a guy like you.”

“Oh, so you’re the fool now, then!”

Sunwoo immediately regrets saying those words as he earned a hard slap from you in return. “I’m leaving if you make one more flirtatious remark.”

He then lifts his hands to show that he surrendered, and you give him a pout before resting your head back onto his chest again. As you finally take in everything that had happened today, a smile plasters across your face before you close your eyes and mumble the words you have wanted to say to him.

“Thank you, Sunwoo. For giving me a chance to love again.”

“Anything for you, my Princess,” Sunwoo replied before kissing your forehead again. “Neoguri Ramyun date again later?”

“Does your life really have to revolve around Neoguri Ramyun on a daily basis?”

“Can’t blame me; that’s my daily energy source. But so that you know, I will be bringing you to a lot more dates from now on, and I’m never going to let you leave my side again. Be prepared for that, Y/N.”

You scoffed. “Tempting. Add on a matcha-day only date to the books, too.”

With that, Sunwoo smiled at you and rubbed his nose against yours. “Consider it done.”

The sounds of the fire crackling were the only things that filled the room for the past half an hour, as Sunwoo spent the entire time writing whatever came to mind in his trusty, worn-out notebook in front of his fireplace.

The Boyz’s latest album has proven to be their most successful comeback, and who would’ve thought that the hidden track was the most beloved song out of all of the songs from the album itself.

It definitely wasn’t his intention for it to be more well-received than their title track. Still, the members were more than happy that they were getting the recognition nonetheless, and of course, with Sunwoo, who’s finally back on track and much happier.

News immediately made headlines when the public found out that he has been seeing a non-celebrity, but both of you were thankful that his fans were supportive, and Sunwoo has managed to keep you out of the spotlight most of the time.

It was crazy to think that a few months had passed since then, and you had decided to move in with Sunwoo for the past month. You’ve quit your PR job; instead, you are now working as his manager.

You both have made it clear to establish personal and business relations and most of the time, everything works out. There are times when both of you have to give up one thing for the other, but you have never failed to talk things through and make it work.

Just as Sunwoo was deep in his creative mindset, his train of thought was cut off when you climbed into his lap and cuddled with your boyfriend.

“Seems like my kitten misses me a little bit too much, hmm?”

“Don’t be stupid. You’re sitting on my couch, dumbass.”

“Hey, this is my apartment; who said this couch belongs to you?”

“This couch was from my old apartment, so it’s mine,” you stuck your tongue out before trying to see what he was up to. “New song?”

“Yeah. Was feeling a little inspired,” Sunwoo hummed.

With that, you could only look straight at his side profile and admire how he looked when working. As much as you don’t want to admit it, you have come to love the guitarist Kim Sunwoo. He always put in a hundred percent when he worked, inspiring you to do the same as his current manager.

“Care to share with me what the new song is all about?” You pinched his cheeks, but he gently pushed you away. “That’s not fair. I’m your manager, so I deserve to know.”

“Now now, it’ll just ruin the fun if I tell you all about it now.”

“Fine then. No Neoguri Ramyun for you tonight,” you crossed your arms before he finally gave in and hugged you tightly.

“You can’t use my source of nutrition against me,” he sulked.

“I can, and I will if you don’t tell me now.”

Sunwoo sighed. “Fine. It’s titled Starboy. I guess it gives a little glimpse into the current fame that I have gotten over the past several years.”

As you took in what you had just heard from your boyfriend, you couldn’t help but snort at his comment, earning a little smack on your shoulder. “How dare you mock me?”

“Nah, it’s nothing. I just think that it’s absurd that you want to write a song about that.”

“Yeah no, you’re looking down on me, Y/N. I’m going to make sure you-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you cupped both cheeks and brought his lips to yours, giving him a kiss that made his heart beat ten times faster than it already was. He definitely did not expect a sudden move from you since he always initiated a kiss with you.

As you pulled apart from him, you gently laid your forehead against him, and you caressed his now red flushed cheeks.

“Kim Sunwoo, you’re already and will forever be my Starboy.”

A/N: i def struggled writing this yes...but i hope i did it justice nontheless 😭

masterlist

taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @k-films @flwoie @zzoguri @kyusqult @tinkerbell460 @cheonsafics @sulkygyu @jaerisdiction @lngwayup @djidfk @daisyvisions @stealanity (join my permanent taglist here!)

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hcuyk · 6 months

Text

OUR INFERNO | CHAPTER ONE

SYNOPSIS ✧ despite being your greatest archnemesis/rival/enemy/frenemy/whateverthefuck he was, hyunjae had always been by your side. that changed when your boyfriend was brought up, creating a newfound rift in your whateverthefuck relationship with hyunjae

PAIRING ✧ rival!hyunjae x fem!reader

GENRE ✧ high school au, enemies to fwb, angst, smut, fluff(?), humor(?) (these mfs bicker a lot), pining

WARNINGS ✧ 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT — cheating, profanity, mentions of physical fight/bruises, underaged drinking, obsessive/possessive hyunjae : NSFW TAGS : outdoor/semipublic sex, dubcon recording, spit/drool/tears, oral and fingering (fem receiving), penetration, scratching/ripping, humping, minimal praise, degradation, sub!hyunjae for 0.002 seconds, petnames (princess, good girl, babe/baby, slut)

WORD COUNT ✧ 19k

⋮≡ [ OUR INFERNO EXCLUSIVE ] @deoboyznet @flwoie @sanaxo-o — fill out the form or comment/send an ask/dm to be added!

. . . . . . OUR INFERNO M.LIST ✩ next [ TWO ]

⋮≡ [ PERMANENT TAGLIST ] @armysantiny @stealanity @zzoguri @nyujjan @tinisprout @the-kpop-simp @sunwoosberrie @winterchimez — fill out the form or comment/send an ask/dm to be added!

THE BOYZ MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION

AUTHOR'S NOTE : in honor of my three years of officially stanning the boyz on this very day, let's celebrate with my smut debut and writing comeback 😋 enjoy my loves

PART ONE: CHASING THE SPARK (THE FIRE TETRAHEDRON) — fuel, oxygen, and heat | CHAPTER ONE

“Genuine question.”

“Shoot.”

“Who the fuck does Hyunjae actually think he is?”

Unphased by your up-and-coming rage rant, Kevin resumed snacking on the protein bar he had brought with him. He tossed his free arm over the camera equipment and backpacks sitting next to him on the bench, watching you stride back and forth within one of the many hallways in the recreational center.

“Well, he is your boss.”

“No, he’s the student executive producer,” you corrected, your legs unwavering as you kept a consistent pace to release your frustrations. Kevin shrugged and tossed one leg over the other, staying relaxed despite the hot fumes emanating from your upright and angered figure. You paused momentarily to look him in the eye.

“Emphasis on the student,” you clarified.

“Emphasis on the executive, Y/N.”

Baffled at how he was defending your greatest archnemesis (well, more like your greatest frenemy), you ignored his rebuttal and started pacing again. Your steps slowed as you envisioned the sensations you experienced just minutes before, back when you, Kevin, and Hyunjae were at the indoor pool to report for your school’s broadcasting channel. Technically, you were the one reporting and filming while Hyunjae was the subject of interest, and Kevin was there for physical support.

Chills latched onto your skin as you remembered what it felt like to have Hyunjae’s bare torso looming over you, his eyes peering over your shoulder to glance at your footage. While staring at the camera, his gentle, irregular breaths would continuously hit your skin. Water from the pool would trickle down his hair and into your shirt, reaching your backside. When it happened, you could barely comprehend Hyunjae’s ‘advice’ and instead focused on feeling every cold droplet travel through the crevasses created by your spine. You winced at the thought of that happening again, yet somehow you could still hear his irritating voice near your ear, telling you all the reasons why your B-roll of his lap swimming was ‘trash’ and ‘unusable.’

For a moment, you stood there in the hallway frozen, unsure of how to move, before realizing you were just reliving a moment from earlier and that Hyunjae was still in the locker room changing.

“I’m going to make a complaint,” you declared, turning back towards Kevin for his encouragement. Alternatively, you were met with the sight of your best friend completely failing to conceal his judgment and disapproval towards your suggestion.

“Against Hyunjae? You gotta be kidding, right?”

“Yes,” you answered confidently. “Wait, I mean no, I’m not kidding, but yes, against Hyunjae.”

Kevin eyed you skeptically, trying to decipher why you felt threatened enough to report someone like Hyunjae. You may not have spent all your previous years in high school with an affinity for Hyunjae, but it wasn’t like you hated him either—not in the way you truly loathed others. If that were the case, you wouldn’t spend nearly every day with him, bickering until the sun chose to set.

“Sure, maybe my B-roll was trash, I can attest to that, but that does not give his bitchass the right to not only shit on how ‘awful’ I was doing, but also yank the camera out of my hands and delete all the footage I got because they weren’t ‘perfect enough.’ What kind of psycho is that?” You glanced over at Kevin, trying once again to get him to back you up, but the most he gave was a slight nod. Everything you were spurting was half-mindedly being decoded because he had ended up placing more significance on inhaling protein. Regardless, you continued.

“And you would think, hey! As the student executive producer of a high school broadcasting team, he would understand that no! I indeed do not record half-naked people swimming in a pool, whether it be for a career or a hobby. He should also at least have the decency to not swim seven hundred miles per minute while I’m recording. Of course I’m not going to catch up, especially when he barely told me how he wanted things to be recorded? Isn’t he fucking insane for that? Not to mention all the goddamn splashing because of how fucking long his limbs are—”

“You’re explaining this like I didn’t witness the whole exchange,” Kevin grumbled.

“And you would think he knows, right? That Mr. Executive-slash-Captain-of-the-Swim-Team should either be more considerate when, A, he’s kicking water in my direction when he’s swimming or, B, station me away from the edge of the pool? Just a thought, but fuck me, I guess.”

“Well yeah, but the—”

“Also! Not to mention the camera has the fucking ability to zoom in, so why was there even a need for me to stand by the pool anyway?” You scoffed at the absurdity, almost tempted to cackle like a villain because of it. “The least he could do was tell me how to record it or find a way to adjust and compromise without occasionally soaking me with water on purpose, which I know damn well he was—”

“That’s just how-”

“We have a tripod, for god’s sake!” you exclaimed. By now, Kevin had given up on providing you with his input. He opted to rest against the wall, finishing up whatever he had left of the protein bar, and occasionally would roll his eyes.

“But even then, who the fuck wants to see him swim anyway? We’ll probably only need like…what? A minute of the footage for the B-roll? So why the hell is he treating it like it’s about to be nominated by the goddamn Oscars for Best Picture? He just loves to nitpick and control me like a fucking puppet—”

“Keep talking and you’ll potentially strain your throat,” a new voice interrupted.

You jerked around to find Hyunjae, the culprit of your rant, exiting the locker room with a small duffle bag that contained both his swim gear and his school clothes from earlier in the day. His brown hair was only halfway dry, some strands still stuck to his forehead as he approached where you were pacing.

You halted in your path and stared him down. Hyunjae immediately caught onto the mood you were in, and instead of being shocked or hurt, he grinned.

“You.”

Your attempt at threatening him with one word made Hyunjae laugh.

“Hey, I’m just looking out for you.”

“Oh here we go again,” Kevin mumbled, tossing the wrapper of the protein bar to the side. He pulled out his phone and went on TikTok, deciding it was more worthy of his attention than listening to you two banter—something he had been experiencing for well over five years.

As a mutual friend of yours and Hyunjae’s since middle school, Kevin understood the frenemy dynamic better than either of you. Eventually, over the long years he had known you both, he learned to leave you two be.

“What about me, though? Are you going to try and tattletale on me?” Hyunjae feigned sympathy as he gave you an exaggerated pout, tilting his head like a puppy’s. “C’mon. I’m just doing my job.”

“Sorry, but I don’t remember ‘being a dick’ being listed under the requirements for your oh-so-important position of power.” You huffed at him and crossed your arms, choosing to face elsewhere as you rooted the soles of your feet to the ground.

Hyunjae furrowed his brows, his eyes never leaving you, as he addressed the third party within the shared space.

“Kevin, was I being a dick, or is Y/N exaggerating?”

Kevin glanced up at his phone and scrunched his nose at Hyunjae in annoyance.

“Don’t even try to bring me into whatever…this mess is.”

“No, tell him,” you demanded, now looking at him. Your glare was enough to burn Kevin into ashes, but it was nothing compared to Hyunjae’s gaze piercing into your back. Knowing that he never looked away made you shiver, hating how fixated he seemed to be—and seemingly without reason too.

“Listen, I wasn’t being a dick. I was treating you the same way I treat everyone else. I’d honestly argue that you’re just narcissistic and think everything is about you when—”

“Oh wow, thank you for admitting that you’re a dick to everyone else!” You tossed your hands up for dramatic appeal as you spun back around to look at him. He scoffed, but his demeanor was quickly shadowed by a smirk that appeared on his lips, testing you with the arch of his brow.

“Oh really? Do you see anyone else complaining?”

“I’m complaining,” Kevin muttered.

“People don’t complain because they’re scared of you, Sherlock,” you retorted. At this point, Hyunjae had already caught onto your bullshit of making evidence up, and it was why this exchange ended up lasting for as long as it did. Nevertheless, his ego continued to build the more you spoke.

“You’re not scared of me?”

And you keep falling for the bait.

“Why should I? You’re nothing.” You approached him and pressed a finger into his chest, taunting him as you stared straight into his eyes.

Suddenly a competition seemed to have materialized because now you both were locking eyes, too stubborn to look away.

“One day you’ll wake up and realize your position doesn’t mean shit. You take it too seriously and make everyone’s job your job when this should be a learning experience for the rest of us.”

“And who exactly is ‘us,’ babe?”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Don’t call me that–”

“And it’s also starting to sound like jealousy to me.” Hyunjae’s eyes finally shifted, but instead of looking away from you like you initially wanted him to, you trailed his line of sight down to your lips. He eyed them shamelessly—technically making you win the unspoken eye contact competition, but at what cost? “I won’t believe you until I receive firm evidence and testimonies from the other students in the club, then maybe I’ll consider your concerns. Deal?”

What you despised most was how well Hyunjae knew and provoked you to get under your skin. He was a raging flame, making your blood boil from both irritation and excitement. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but after nearly six years of banter with Hyunjae, you knew damn well you enjoyed every second of it. It was like a nonstop competition, and you were always on the edge of winning.

Maybe it was also because you were so used to him constantly being above you. He was the president of the student council, the swim team’s captain, and specifically the one who snatched the executive position away from you in the broadcasting team, yet somehow you were still able to compete at his level of arrogance and egotism.

Even though you may never be able to top him in the foreseeable future, you at least knew how to match his fury—his fire, with your own.

“You’re pathetic.” You took a few steps back to gain some distance while his eyes flickered back up to yours. He bit his lip playfully, his smile only growing even wider.

“Woah, Y/N. Exposing my degradation kink so soon?”

“I-...you- w-what?!” you sputtered, your jaw falling slack as Kevin’s head snapped up, staring at the two of you in disgust.

“Get a room—!”

“I’m going to make sure you get degraded from your position, you freak!”

“Not exactly how that word works, princess, but I’m glad you’re at least passionate.” His cooing made you want to slap the living shit out of him, your eyes protruding from their sockets are you glared.

“Are you fucking bricked up or something right now—?”

“Hey guys,” a woman’s voice called out. Your heads turned to look at the end of the hallway, catching one of the recreational center’s workers waving in your general direction. She pressed her lips together and smiled, attempting to be as professional and understanding as possible. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but is it okay if you guys turn it down a notch?”

You and Hyunjae both nodded and whispered apologies, feeling like kids who just got scolded for shoving paintbrushes down the drain. Fortunately, the worker’s smile radiated genuine warmth and consideration, providing you some sort of reassurance that you guys weren’t too much of a disturbance (even though you guys totally were).

“You two are the most childish fuckers I know,” Kevin deadpanned, finally shoving his phone away as he switched between looking at you and the man by your side. His eyebrows bunched up.

“And apparently horny too.”

“I would move across the country if it meant I never had to see him again,” you grumbled, striding back to the pile of equipment to pick up your backpack and the bag with all your reporting necessities (boring script, stationary, and a couple of notebooks shared with all the broadcasting students to collect notes and inspiration in).

“Hello? I’m still here.”

“Look at that. He already misses me.”

“I’m going to hurl,” Kevin unnecessarily announced, and Hyunjae’s face soured.

“Ew.”

“Exactly. That’s how you two make me feel whenever you guys are together.” Kevin got up on his feet and grabbed the wrapper to shove into one of his pockets (no littering, kids) before outstretching his limbs dramatically.

“I swear I developed back pain from always listening to you guys bicker.”

“Or, hot take,” Hyunjae interjected, “maybe it’s because you’re always sitting with your back arching forward like it belongs in the Arches National Park–”

“Yeah yeah, shut the fuck up.” Kevin waved him off with his hand and rolled his eyes. “I came here to help carry stuff, not listen to your bullshit.”

He picked up the bag that contained the camera and passed it to Hyunjae. He offered to hold one more thing, but with only his backpack and the tripod left, Kevin didn’t see much need for his friend’s assistance.

Kevin then faced you, his face stern and rid of emotion.

“You too, Y/N,” he stated seriously. “None of this ‘he said this,’ ‘he said that,’ ‘please fuck me’ bullshit from you either.”

You gaped at him, arms wrapped tightly around the crew’s bag.

“Now why the hell do you think—”

“Zip it.”

Without giving you much of an opportunity to continue, Kevin sped off in front of you, ready to leave the building. You couldn’t even look at Hyunjae as heat rushed to your cheeks, struggling to trail after Kevin’s speedy steps.

Despite carrying heavier items, Hyunjae caught up to you with ease. You wanted nothing more than for Hyunjae’s feet to either slow down or speed up tremendously, but of course he purposely chose to walk by your side, attached to you by the hip.

“He sees it,” Hyunjae sing-songed. “Everyone sees it.”

“Sees what?” you snorted, oblivious to what he was indicating.

“That you want me,” he replied nonchalantly.

The moment you two stepped outside the doors of the center, you stopped to face him, trying to confirm what exactly he was implying.

“You can’t be serious.”

Hyunjae, who also stopped with your steps, shrugged.

“You’re the one in denial.”

Realizing that he was serious, you felt every muscle in your body tense up.

“Hyunjae,” you stated firmly. “I have a boyfriend, remember?”

Instead of receiving something witty from Hyunjae like normal, his relaxed facial features suddenly scrambled into one that expressed remote shock. His lips were slightly parted, eyes searching yours for any hint that indicated you were lying or messing around with him, but you were serious.

The aggressive playfulness from earlier had evaporated faster than boiling water, and you watched as he became stilled. Your heart started pounding, anxiety creeping up within you due to not being able to read Hyunjae like you normally do.

“Since when?” he asked. His voice was quiet, his tone firmer, and by now, Kevin was already by his car, too far from the two of you to understand what was going on. Hell, even you could barely understand what was happening.

“Earth to Hyunjae?” you joked, nervously laughing in an attempt to eliminate the newfound tension looming in the atmosphere. “It’s always been Jiwoong, remember?”

For a moment, Hyunjae could feel his mouth drying up. All his thoughts were held captive in his throat, and his lips remained parted as if they weren’t meant to collide at all. He stared at you like you had just teleported in front of him.

“Y/N,” he stated calmly, “he cheated on you.”

Your initial response was to get defensive, claiming that you already knew that because hell, it was your relationship, but then your brain acknowledged the true elephant in the conversation.

“How-...how the hell do you know about that?”

“I- You know word just-…That doesn’t matter. What matters is why in the world—”

“It was a mistake, okay?”

“A mistake?” As Hyunjae’s brows raised, so did his tone. “You know, people—decent people, don’t make mistakes like that.”

Seeing how Hyunjae was gritting his teeth, how his eyes were locked on yours, built up a foreign frustration within you. Something about the way Hyunjae was behaving felt like he was trying to control you.

All the rage from before had now returned, yet this time, there was no more leniency from you—not when Hyunjae was being more condescending than he had ever been.

“You know nothing, Hyunjae, so frankly, I really don’t care about what you think about my relationship with my boy-”

“You’re still with him??”

“Look,” you snapped. “Just because you have the luxury of crushing my hopes and dreams on a daily basis, it does not give you the right to dictate what’s wrong or right about my love life and my decisions. Understood?”

And just like how you always are, Hyunjae refused to shut up.

“How is it dictating when it’s common sense to dump a shitty person?” He dropped the bags onto the ground, and not once did he look away from you. “He’s never treated you well either, and you know that—”

“It’s not your decision to make,” you repeated. You could feel the three key elements of creating a fire stir up within you. You had the fuel, the oxygen, and the heat, and Hyunjae was the chemical chain reaction that would set it off. “How dense can you fucking be to not back down?”

“He cheated on you,” he reasserted, and there was a rage in his eyes that you had never once encountered. “He’s done so many shitty things, and he hasn’t changed–”

“Again, none of your fucking business–”

“And I’m pretty sure I saw—”

“I am not going to repeat myself-”

“Can’t you just listen to what I-”

“Drop it.” You were seconds away from yelling at him, ready to unleash all your anger because never once has someone threatened your love life—Jiwoong, the man you considered your soulmate. Your flame had officially engulfed his, and all Hyunjae could do was stare at you in disbelief and disappointment.

Turning to look away, you gazed up into the sky and scoffed, not understanding why tears had begun to pool up in your eyes. At the end of the day, Hyunjae meant nothing to you—you didn’t even consider him a friend.

After moments of experiencing what it was like to be suffocated by a tension so unbearable, you eventually found a way to ground yourself.

“I can’t blame him, you know,” you whispered, using the back of your hand to wipe away your tears. “We were angry. He just–...he needed an outlet, and at that time, that outlet happened to not be me, okay?”

Hyunjae stared at you, his mouth desperate to say something, anything, to make you see what he sees—a relationship that isn’t meant to be. That you didn’t deserve to be treated this way. Maybe you were no more than an acquaintance to him, but he knew you have always deserved better.

“He isn’t someone worth fighting for.”

“And that’s none of your business,” you scowled.

“It isn’t right—”

“Stay in your fucking lane, Jae.”

Hyunjae clamped his mouth shut, and the sight of you completely breaking down tore him apart. Possibly it was all the years you spent together growing up, constantly arguing, yet he knew he was always one to look out for you.

You sucked in a cheek, gnawing at it as your chest urged for you to forgive him, to apologize for lashing out without much notice, but in the end, you prioritized your pride over him.

Not only was Hyunjae’s persistence a stab to your heart, but you suspected that Kevin was the one who told him. By spilling your secrets, it was as if Kevin saw the knife that impaled you and yanked it out of your chest, causing you to bleed to your death.

“I’m done with this conversation,” you muttered, dropping the bag in your arms to the ground by his feet. Your plans had changed to you walking home alone, wanting nothing to do with the other two boys for the next hour or so.

When you turned around to walk away, you knew Hyunjae was going to try and say something. You knew him best whenever he was at his worst, so you spun around to face him for the last time that day to cut him off.

“Never fucking cross that line with me again, got it?”

And with that, you left.

Kevin apologized to you the morning after.

He normally drove you to school, and you debated getting into his car when he showed up. Thankfully you chose to do otherwise because the second you stepped inside, Kevin was apologizing profusely. He talked about how anxious he was all night when Hyunjae told him what happened, and he wouldn’t have known what to do if you didn’t forgive him. Obviously you did, and the rest of the car ride was spent with him explaining his side of the story.

According to Kevin, he only told Hyunjae about how you got cheated on because it seemed like Hyunjae already knew. As Kevin recalled the whole scene, you two assessed the signs, such as how Hyunjae didn’t provide any sort of reaction when Kevin dropped the news. In fact, it had seemed like Hyunjae had brought it up to Kevin instead.

Regardless, it became the last of your worries because all that mattered was that you were back to being on good terms with your best friend.

But avoiding Hyunjae felt like lighting a match in the rain.

It was your agonizing reality for the next two months, and although you could argue that you had gotten closer to your boyfriend during the supposed ‘Hyunjae Drought,’ you were still plagued with him being everywhere around you.

He was in all your classes, and you never truly processed the extent of how involved Hyunjae had always been throughout high school with you. You weren’t on the swim team, but you were stuck with him during meetings for both the broadcasting team and student council.

Yet it all felt so different.

Unless he was called on, Hyunjae would talk much less unprovoked and would never look at you during meetings. When he would address the entire team, he would glance at you for a split second before looking elsewhere, no longer watching you like a hawk.

You had also gotten quieter because without Hyunjae to banter with, you recognized that you barely had friends in any of those classes either.

There was no longer a fight between your flames, and you two kept as much distance as possible. You were thankful that there hadn’t been an instance that interrupted that, such as being forced to record more B-roll with him, and you could only hope that the rest of your senior year would remain the same.

Then you would never have to see him in college.

Now you were back to being the mediocre student that faded into the background. People knew your name at best, but none have ever tried to become your friend aside from Kevin. No matter how involved you tried to get, the closest you were to anyone was a classmate.

Hyunjae had always overshadowed you too, and for the first time in years, you were detached from his fumes—yet somehow, some way, the smoke from his fire would remain in your lungs, continuing to suffocate you even more than it had before. It didn’t give you that breath of fresh air of new friends or a better life; instead, it helped you realize that you didn’t matter. It was a miracle that you even scored Jiwoong as your boyfriend.

But then that begged the question: why did Hyunjae bother spending his time ridiculing you?

From the very beginning, you had always meant something to him, and you couldn’t pinpoint how or why. When there was no competition in academics, he treated it as if there was. Every time you ranted, he would listen, whether it be about him or something else. Even when you talked about how your chicken from the cafeteria was burnt, he would give you his own before calling you stupid for not noticing until you sat down.

He never shrugged you off like you were nothing or shut you down because your emotions were invalid. He entertained you each time with ease, and most importantly, he knew when to respect your boundaries. Hyunjae was probably the most mindful person you knew and could often tell when you were distressed or needed another form of reaction from him.

He knew when to stop.

Yet when it came to the one instance involving Jiwoong, he crossed the line multiple times. Why?

“Hyunjae isn’t here today.”

“Huh?”

“Didn’t show up for a single class.”

Kevin watched you play with your food with a fork, rolling the cold, barely spherical peas around and into the stale rice.

“That’s not like him,” he replied.

“Yeah.”

“I wonder why.”

“I wonder too.”

After the driest possible conversation in existence, you sighed and dropped your fork into your tray.

“I need to stop forgetting to pack myself lunch. This shit makes me lose my appetite, I swear. We should call the police and tell them the food they’re serving is illegal and a disgrace to this country.”

“Keep it away before I lose my appetite too.”

You didn’t react nor respond to what Kevin said, letting the conversation rot as you pouted at your food. The cafeteria was unusually louder today, making it easier to space out into thought.

Kevin took out his sandwich with a wide grin and started eating, grateful he never had to deal with what the school was feeding thanks to his mom, but eventually his eyes shifted over to you. You were unmoving with your gaze locked onto an empty spot on the table, so after moments of debating between asking you what’s wrong and ignoring you to devour his lunch, he opted to set his sandwich aside and stared straight at you.

“Why are you thinking about him?”

That was enough to garner your attention, your head snapping up to stare at your best friend like he was the craziest person you knew for mentioning Hyunjae, much less suggesting that your mind was wrapped around him.

“What?”

“Hyunjae. With his perfect attendance, a day without him should be a blessing, yet you brought up how he didn’t show up today and then moped harder than anyone I’ve ever seen mope. You should be over the moon, dancing on the tables and stealing people’s food, not-...” Kevin waved a finger at you, “whatever this is. You seem out of it.”

“Well it’s not because of Hyunjae, I’ll tell you that,” you snorted. Your eyes fell back down to your tray, and the more you looked at it, the more nauseous you got. You scrunched your nose. “If anything, it’s probably because of this shit food.”

Kevin rolled his eyes before tearing his sandwich into halves. You perked at the sight and ogled the half Kevin taunted you with. You were about to thank him and take it into your possession before Kevin jerked back his arm, making you whine.

“Throw away your food, then I’ll give you it.”

“Fine,” you grumbled. As Kevin returned to his delicious, most scrumptious, packed lunch you had ever seen, you picked up your tray and walked it to the nearest trash can. As you dropped the whole thing inside, you heard your name being called.

“Y/N!”

You whipped around to check to see who it was and smiled at the sight of Eunseo waving at you. You wouldn’t consider her a good friend, but you knew her well enough since she was the vice president of the student council.

She ran over to you with a stack of paper in her arms, relieved to have caught you.

“Y/N, hi! I’m so glad I found you. I was scared I wouldn’t because of how packed it is.”

She flashed you her usual glowing smile, and you noticed that she was a bit more giddy than usual, making you question why she was choosing to talk to you in the first place. All your conversations normally took place before, during, and after student council meetings, so this was slightly out of character.

“What’s up?” you asked. As you looked at her, you noticed how her outfit was slightly more put together than it normally was. She had on a cute top that suited her chest perfectly and a skirt that you had never seen her wear.

“Your outfit’s really cute today.”

“Really?!” Her bright demeanor then faded into concern. “Wait, is it too noticeable or out of the blue? Is it bad?”

“No, no. Not at all!” you reassured. “It’s just the right amount of perfect.”

“Great! God, that means the world coming from you. It’s because!...” She stopped to glance around, making sure that no one was eavesdropping, before taking a step closer to whisper. “It’s because I was finally asked out on a date by my crush!”

She could barely contain her excitement, holding back a squeal with her bottom lip latched between her teeth. Her sunshine-like energy made you grin.

“That’s great! I’m glad you’re making progress.” Your eyebrows pinched as you tried to recall the last time Eunseo had updated you about her crush. “You’ve been pining after him for so long—whoever ‘him’ is, anyway.”

The question of who Eunseo liked had always gone unanswered. She never told anyone, not even the ones who knew her best, but she loved gushing about her mystery crush to everyone she knew. All people really knew, you included, was how down bad she was.

A part of you wondered if it was someone you knew—someone pretty like Juyeon or well-known like…Hyunjae.

“Oh, I wish I could tell you, and maybe I will if things go really well and we become official!” She squealed and hopped in her spot, unable to resist giving you a half-hug with her free arm. “This is so exciting, Y/N!”

“I’m really happy for you.” Your smile was genuine until you thought about why she was looking for you, starting to doubt that she called you over just so she could tell you about her date.

“I’ll let you know how it goes, swear. But! That aside, I also have something for you.”

You knew it.

Your brows raised, and when you didn’t catch on, she gestured to the papers in her arms with guilt.

“I know this is kind of a dick move, and I’m really really sorry, but I promised to put up fliers for prom today. My date is right after my last class.” Her frown had deepened, and for a split second, you found yourself sympathizing with her because who wanted to let down such a cheerful personality, especially when this was life-changing for her?

“So you want me to do it?”

“Exactly! Please, that would be great. It shouldn’t take too long, too.”

You thought about how you would have to give up an evening of playing on your switch or extra time to study for an upcoming exam, but you knew it was your duty as secretary to help out whenever needed.

Not to mention that it would also make you a decent friend not to hold Eunseo back from her soon-to-be love life despite her poor date planning. If you were in her shoes, you would have wanted her to do the same for you too.

“Sure,” you accepted. “Why not?”

“You’re the best, seriously!” She handed you the fliers as she began to fill you in on the extra details.

“I already told Mr. Barajas that I wasn’t feeling well and that you were going to do it, so he said it all worked out and to not worry about it,” she rambled, happy to give the extra weight (both literally and metaphorically) to you. “I just printed these out, so everything should be perfect to go. Oh, and don’t worry about any extras! Just set them on Barajas’s desk when you’re finished. Hyunjae will also be in 142 with tape ready for you.”

The mention of the forbidden name nearly made every cell in your body halt.

“What?”

Eunseo tilted her head at you, confused, before finally realizing.

“Oh crap, I forgot! I’m so sorry, I really did forget you guys weren’t on good terms. I hope it’s okay that he’s helping you out. I mean, he’s supposed to, but it was meant for him and me to do it together, not you two, so…God, I’m really sorry Y/N.”

Before you could even react to the newfound information, she continued.

“I really have to go now. Thank you again! I promise I’ll make it up to you!” And with her rosy pink cheeks and a stunning shade of red on her lips, she basically skipped away and waved goodbye to you with a smile, so you reciprocated it with an awkward one of your own.

When she turned her back, your smile immediately dropped and you sighed heavily.

“Have fun on your date,” you mumbled, your eyes falling to fliers in your arms. As you skimmed the one on top, you noticed it was to promote going to prom while also including a big QR code to vote for who should be your school’s prom king and queen. You expected it since it was the last meeting’s topic of discussion, but what you weren’t aware of was who were listed as nominees.

There were eight names listed under ‘Prom Court,’ and while you expected Hyunjae’s, Eunseo’s, and your boyfriend’s names on it, your jaw nearly hit the ground at the sight of your own.

With every passing class period, your anxiety would kick up a notch.

The dread of talking to the face you had been avoiding for two months engulfed you, and it caused you to develop the urge to ditch your current class to go hunt for Jacob, the student council’s historian. You wanted nothing more than to dump the stack of fliers into his arms, and knowing Jacob, he wouldn’t ask any questions. Hell, you were certain that if you asked him nicely, he would do it for you because of how naturally sweet and endearing he was.

But the guilt of ditching your secretary duties kept picking at your skin, and besides, all you had to do was treat Hyunjae like a colleague. That should be easy, right?

As you suffered through the last few minutes of class and your teacher’s incessant ramblings about the upcoming exam, your thoughts drifted over to what would happen the moment you stepped into room 142.

Hyunjae hadn’t shown up to a single class all day, yet he was expected to set up fliers after school. As your thoughts snowballed, you arrived at the baseless conclusion that maybe Eunseo wasn’t aware that Hyunjae was absent today, therefore someone else (like Jacob) would take over.

Suddenly, your back had straightened with feigned interest in your teacher’s last few words. Something about Jacob being there instead of Hyunjae had excited you; it felt like you were free and that the universe was listening to your prayers. The gamble of seeing whether it would be Hyunjae or Jacob (or literally anyone else) had your right leg bouncing, eyes on the clock, and when the bell rang, you shot up from your seat, backpack over your shoulders and fliers in your arms, before dashing out of the classroom.

You sped down the hallway to 142, Mrs. Zhang’s room for Chemistry, bug-eyed, before having your delusions crushed at the sight of Hyunjae’s stupidly large height leaning against one of the counters. Your feet stood glued to the ground by the doorway, your eyes locked onto him.

Covered from head to toe in sweats, Hyunjae was immersed in whatever was on his phone, scrolling through something as his brown curls peeked out from inside his hood. Without any hint of him acknowledging your presence, your shattered hopes slowly began to rebuild.

Maybe if you were quiet enough, you could sneak out with the tape and do everything on your own, avoiding him at all. Actually, scratch that. You didn’t even need the tape. All you had to do was go to another teacher’s room, steal their tape for half an hour, and then return it with ease.

The plan was effortless, and you mentally smacked your forehead for not thinking of it earlier. Right as you were about to execute it, your backpack slammed against the doorframe as you turned on your heels.

“Nice try.”

You groaned out of embarrassment (and slight pain) and forced yourself to turn around. Hyunjae’s phone was now face down on the counter, and his arms were crossed over his abdomen. His face remained stoic as his eyes met yours, wielding a tension you didn’t recognize.

Now that you could properly look at him, you noticed a few details that you hadn’t before, such as the small tear on his lower lip and the bandaid on his cheekbone. If you looked long enough, you could catch light patches of purple across his skin, and the sight hindered all your thoughts, your brain too occupied with piecing together how he ended up like this.

“What happened?” you blurted, your gaze shooting up from his lips to his eyes.

Hyunjae staggered at your suddenty, but he managed to keep himself stilled, his brows pinching.

“What do you mean?”

Even if Hyunjae didn’t mean to, his question became an invitation for your unfiltered thoughts to spill out of your mouth.

“You didn’t show up for any of our classes today,” you began, “but now you’re here? For some stupid fliers? You’re barely dressed properly like you normally are, your hair isn’t straightened, you look pale, Jae, and what’s up with the bruises or the bandaid on your cheek–”

“Are you seriously psychoanalyzing me?” he asked with a scoff. There was no humor in his tone. Instead, it looked as if he was irritated, perhaps even more than you were.

Hyunjae barely met your eyes, and his arms closed himself off from you.

“What–?”

“You’re evaluating me like I’m some sort of lab project, Y/N.”

“No, no I’m not,” you rejected. “I’m just saying things are a little off.” You kept your eyes firm on his, even as he pushed himself off the counter with his phone and made his way over to you. “And you know, you really can’t blame me for being somewhat worried when one, you don’t show up, and two, you look like a whole mess—”

“Just hand over the fliers—” he interrupted, gritting his teeth as he outstretched his arm in your direction. You dodged him by turning your body 180 degrees and stood your ground.

“What happened?” you repeated, this time more firmly.

Hyunjae looked at you, a blank expression on his face, before turning back around to grab the roll of tape left on the teacher’s desk. When he returned, he shoved it into your arms while simultaneously stealing half the stack. You protested with an exclaimed ‘Hey!’ yet he didn’t bat an eye and skimmed over the contents of the flier on top.

Bothered by his lack of response, you frowned and made sure to block the doorway, refusing to let him leave until you received answers.

“Why are you acting like this? Pretending that I’m not even—”

“I’ll do upstairs, you do downstairs,” he muttered.

“Did you get into a fight? Why weren’t you here today? Why are you here now—”

“You’d think you’d know,” he finally answered, pushing past you like you weighed none less than a feather.

Your brain had fully malfunctioned at that point, unable to decipher what he meant as Hyunjae walked off to the nearest staircase. As his footsteps echoed down the hall, you thought about what he was implying yet came to no resolution. Did he assume that you were caught up in your school’s latest gossip? Or that you were the main admin for his biggest fan page on Instagram?

The idea made you snort, and you scowled bitterly at his childish attitude. It wasn’t like you were a complete stranger intruding on his personal life—hell, you felt like you deserved an explanation because of how you were forced to do this with him.

As you stormed off past the remaining lingering students to the nearest bulletin board, you questioned how you were going to do this on your own.

You had put up fliers countless times in the past few years yet never alone. Luckily, you had a general idea of where the fliers should go when it came to the school’s hallways, but as you approached your first destination, you struggled with ripping off pieces of tape while holding the stack at the same time. It would’ve been easier with a partner by your side, one who either did the tape ripping or placing of the fliers, but you weren’t desperate enough to fall into the role of a helpless princess in need of her pretty (useless) prince.

After some trial and error, you found a method that consisted of setting the stack on the ground occasionally so you could rip off pieces of tape. Then you would slap said pieces of tape onto your wrist, having them readily available as you put up a few fliers at a time.

Although slightly time-consuming, it was working well and kept you at a steady pace until you heard crashing footsteps behind you from afar. Without paying any mind to it, you bit back your curiosity in order to focus on the wall in front of you, but then you made the mistake of taking a step back, bumping into the person who was sprinting.

You lost your balance and fell forward before catching yourself shortly after. However, the fliers had already flown out of your arms, scattering across and down the long hallway.

Ready to curse out the offender for running down the hallway, you were surprised when you saw that it was Eunseo behind you, pouring out apologies while a loopy grin was smacked onto her face.

You steadied your anger and told her it was okay, getting down onto your knees to collect all the fliers. Her ‘sorry’s could only go so far with her smeared lipstick, a dazed gaze, and her hair holding the mold to someone else’s (presumably her crush’s) hands in them, but you still excused her, knowing that she was over the moon right now.

“It’s okay, Eunseo, I promise.” You forced out a chuckle as you crawled to scavenge for the ones that flew a few feet away.

“I really didn’t mean to,” she pouted, but it was shortly followed up with bubbly giggles. “God, Y/N, can you believe this? Oh, it’s going so well! I think I love him, I do.”

“Good for you,” you grumbled, hoping that she didn’t hear it as you continued to move down the hallway, hating how far the fliers had escaped from you. You also hated how she just stood there without intent on helping you at all.

“I have to really go now. Got volleyball practice soon, but I think I’m seeing him tomorrow too!” She waved you goodbye.

And just like that, she continued running off.

You stared at how you were only able to collect half the mess, hating how Eunseo had somehow managed to delay you even further from being in the comfort of your bed. You were also salty at how her date was taking place at the school, wishing she could’ve dragged him around while she taped stuff up before getting dick-downed of some sort.

Deciding that she and her business weren’t worth your time, you continued to pick everything up as quickly as you could, wanting nothing more than to go home.

When you finally finished collecting every last flier, you were prepared to get back into the groove of things before feeling your phone vibrate in the side pocket of your backpack. Wondering if it was something important, you took it out and beamed at the idea of it being a new message from Jiwoong.

Dating him felt like falling in love with him all over again whenever he texted. Your heart would pound in your chest when you thought about him and explode whenever he gave you his attention and time. You were addicted to him, especially knowing that he was yours after liking him since middle school.

So to say you were disappointed was far worse than an understatement. It was from a number you hadn’t saved yet always recognized and undoubtedly remembered by heart.

Of course it was Hyunjae.

You had Hyunjae’s phone number due to previous class projects and group chats, but you had never once saved it because you thought he was undeserving of being a contact in your phone. Nonetheless, with how the years have passed and how much his number infiltrates every group chat you were in, it was only fair that your brain had unintentionally memorized all ten digits.

The message he sent consisted of him saying that he was done with the fliers, and you rolled your eyes. Even after the way he treated you earlier, he still chose to let you know and brag about how fast he was.

You shoved your phone away vigorously, ready to return to your slapping-fliers-on-walls duty, before perking at the sound of footsteps behind you once more.

Automatically assuming it was Eunseo or another student staying after for a club or sport, you were stunned when you heard his voice.

“You’re not even halfway yet?”

In no fucking universe are you turning around; not for him.

“Go gloat somewhere else,” you snapped. The next flier you taped up was nearly slammed onto the wall, but Hyunjae was left unphased by your sudden outburst. He stood next to you and remained quiet, even when you left to place the next flier a few feet away on the opposite wall.

When he didn’t follow, you sighed out of relief, yet somehow you couldn’t help but peek at him, eyeing his hands that were tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants. He was staring straight at the lopsided flier you had put up, and when you decided you had enough of peering at him, he was back by your side.

“What are you doing?” you grumbled. He was the one who pushed you away, yet now here he was, glued to your side like how he was two months ago.

“You’re taking too long.”

“I had a mishap,” you explained, “but that’s none of your concern.” The lines on your forehead bunched up, and you waved him off, bending down to place the stack on the ground. Figuring it wasn’t weird at all, you continued your method of ripping off pieces of tape and slapping it onto your wrist.

And Hyunjae was totally judging.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Just go home.”

Despite being on the ground and sitting on your heels, you could physically feel the heat on the back of your head due to his eyes burning a hole into your skull, and for a split second, you knew exactly what he was thinking.

“I can do it myself,” you explained.

“What are you even doing?”

“Can you just go?” You picked up the stack once again as you rose to your feet, doing your best to avoid whatever look was on Hyunjae’s face. He was probably stifling a laugh or keeping his expression smug, but when you did cave and peek, his face was still solemn, his eyes on your wrist with concern.

“You’re struggling.”

“Thank you for your observation, Mr. Obvious,” you retorted.

“Let me do it.”

Taken aback, you whipped your head over to his direction.

“You’re kidding.”

“You don’t even want to be here,” he reasoned through gritted teeth. “Just go, and you can thank me later.”

“Thank you?!” Appalled at his audacity, you couldn’t help but laugh out of disbelief. “Seriously, Hyunjae? You want me to thank you for stealing my job? Again? You can’t be fucking serious.”

“Because you can’t take any criticism ever, or in this case, any form of help, so just let me do it.”

Hyunjae was eerily calm about the whole ordeal, his energy far from matching yours.

“I do take help,” you refuted. “I just don’t take yours, and neither do I need it, too.”

“You’re so goddamn stubborn.” And within a blink of an eye, he had managed to snatch the stack of fliers from you.

“Hey!” you yelled, feeling as if it was deja vu from earlier (you really needed to step up your defense), and reached out to take them back, but he was quick to turn his body, shielding them from you.

“Give me the tape and go,” he urged, emotionless. The Hyunjae in front of you now was someone you truly didn’t recognize because the Hyunjae you knew would have made fun of you and held the fliers above your head, teasing you for being so weak.

Yet he stood still, creating a barrier between you and the duty that was forced upon you. You didn’t want to be here anyway, yet you were so insistent on making sure Hyunjae wasn’t stealing your work again. You weren’t incapable, and you hated how he always managed to be faster.

Even now, he was miles away from being playful with you, and yet he still had a way to shove it in your face.

“Hyunjae, I swear—”

“Give me the tape, and you can run off to your little boyfriend waiting for you by the entrance.”

Your lips parted at his words, eyes wide as you worked to comprehend his words. You questioned how he knew about Jiwoong’s whereabouts, how he knew that Jiwoong was waiting and that you didn’t, but knowing that he was serious, you reluctantly gave up and dropped the roll of tape on the ground, forcing him to pick it up.

You were sick of constantly arguing with him, and even if he was lying about Jiwoong, at least you would be away from Hyunjae. There was no point in fighting for your dignity anymore, not when Hyunjae’s narcissism was insufferable.

By walking away with heavy and quick strides, you hoped he felt humiliated by how poorly he was treating you—how he had always treated you like this.

As much as you wanted it to be true, you hoped Hyunjae was lying just so you had more evidence against his self-absorbed and shitty personality, but alas, you found Jiwoong standing precisely where Hyunjae said he was.

Regardless, all stress and frustrations had lifted from your being, and you called out to your boyfriend with a smile that would make your cheeks ache in minutes.

“Woong!” You waved your hands with a small bounce in your steps as you rushed over to him.

Your boyfriend’s head shot up, surprised to see you. His utter shock quickly switches to one of sheer happiness, tucking his device away before opening his arms for you.

“Hey, baby!”

You tossed yourself into his embrace, hugging him tight after pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“What are you doing here?” With your face in his neck, your voice came out muffled, and it made Jiwoong laugh.

“Had to stay after to discuss my grades with a teacher, then I decided to stay back a bit for you.” He cooed and kissed the top of your head, holding you incredibly close. When you pulled back, his hands had moved from behind your backpack to your hips instead, holding them as you stared up at him.

“You were waiting for me?” you asked, eyes wide with stars in them.

“Of course I was, baby.”

You were radiating, feeling happier than ever. The last time you saw Jiwoong was a week ago, and with your clashing schedules, you two very rarely get the opportunity to make plans. Your hands rested atop his shoulders, and when he pulled you in for a kiss, you smiled.

But then it fell.

Something felt off.

If someone were to inquire Hyunjae about who his heart belonged to, your name would be his answer—whether he intended to say it or not.

Hyunjae had always been considered the school’s favorite. His intelligence may not be up to par with others, but his authority was what made him a prominent member of your high school. Some blame it on his looks, but most were aware enough to know that wasn’t the case.

Hyunjae knew how to think on his feet, and his problem-solving skills outwitted everyone within his grade level. Reaching tranquillity had never been an issue for him, allowing him to be levelheaded while making decisions. He emitted an aura that made classmates truly listen to him and the ideas he shared, and overall, it made him a great contender to lead every group and organization he was in.

Additionally, Hyunjae’s heart was what won over most people. His lack of vulnerability seemed to be his only flaw, but it was an obstacle he could overlook when it came to empathizing with others. By actively being involved in the community through volunteering and holding fundraisers, everyone could recognize Hyunjae’s devotion to hope for humanity.

All these traits were what led Hyunjae up onto the pedestal and the public eye, a household name for all families in the district. Titles and awards naturally gravitated towards him throughout the years, resulting in him winning the vote as president of your school’s student council and enough scholarships to provide him a full ride at most universities.

It was safe to say that competition against Lee Hyunjae was sparse, and you were no different.

Your grades would teeter around his standard, hence how you two collectively ended up in the same classes, but aside from that, you had nothing else that could compare to what he was capable of.

Except for one thing; your fury.

There was an inferno inside you at all times, and instead of your body shielding off your heart with steel, people around you would come to find out that your heart was the reason for that large blaze of fire, possessing a passion unlike any other.

Hyunjae had never once seen a peer with as much fight as you. It was a trait only you encapsulated, one that you weren’t afraid to express. You stood up for yourself and your beliefs, and it was easy to pick fights with him when he had been troubling you from the very moment you two were assigned to sit next to each other in seventh-grade algebra.

Hyunjae yearned for you ever since, his only want being your attention. You gave him the drive to succeed in high school and thrive in his senior year, and he was positive that he wouldn’t be doing this well without a reason to show off in front of you. He wanted your praise, your acknowledgment, but he loved the chase the most.

Unfortunately, that was the exact reason he ended up here.

The chase was what made him fall for every part of you, wanting nothing more than your lips on his and the ability to have you by his side at all times, but it was also what landed you with your current boyfriend.

It was like his life was a video game with God giving him the hardest difficulty setting by making sure you were obsessed with someone undeserving of all that he wanted. There wasn’t even a chance of you two possibly being friends in your eyes. Meanwhile, Hyunjae would argue that you two had more chemistry than any other couple in your class, but that hope was crushed, shredded, and stomped on when he found out you still devoted your love to Jiwoong.

Regardless, it didn’t change who you were as a person. Your heart was still just as large and beautiful, and your drive to succeed hadn’t lessened. The bickering never faltered, and it wasn’t like Hyunjae was opposed whenever you expressed disgust at the thought of him being turned on because of you (and that was because he found the idea of you thinking about him hot—yes, his expectations were that low).

So it was why after two months of almost zero to no contact, you treating him as if those months didn’t exist created the largest dilemma he had ever faced. He spent the next week thinking about your intentions and why you seemed to care so much, specifically right after when Hyunjae had willed himself to believe that he meant jackshit to you. You effortlessly toyed with his heart, leaving him in everlasting misery, while you seemed to do completely fine.

What was a typical and ideal lifestyle for you was a nightmare and tormenting hellhole for Hyunjae. He didn’t just crave the warmth and comfort from your undying flames.

He wanted to burn.

Insanity engulfed him on the days spent without you, leaving him to wonder why you had to make things extensively worse by pointing out his absence or how he had put less effort into his hair. Why did it seem like the concern you expressed was genuine? Why pretend that you cared for him as much as he cared for you?

He was going insane—so insane that he drove to a college party with three other friends in his sedan on a Wednesday night.

It was being held by a fraternity he and his friends were far more than familiar with thanks to Jongin, an upperclassman he met in his sophomore year and remained friends with since then. The beginning of the senior year marked the origin of parties and hook-ups in weak sporadic attempts to get over you.

At this rate, Hyunjae could argue that he was more experienced than half of the current college freshmen class. Getting girls in bed was the easiest part; the hardest part was forgetting about you. From what was a method created to move on from you became one that prepared him for when you wanted sex with him.

But with your constant longing for Jiwoong, Hyunjae made sure that this party would be different.

Although accustomed to having sex with various women, Hyunjae had never been one to drink. This was a fact about him that raised brows, specifically Jongin’s when he first tried urging Hyunjae with a drink, but tonight he vowed to change that. He was normally their designated driver, but when Hyunjae informed Sangyeon of his plan, the elder was more than delighted to remain sober so Hyunjae could get a taste of alcohol.

“Hey, man! It’s about time!” Jongin exclaimed the instant he found out about Hyunjae’s willingness to drink, pulling a fresh bottle out of the cooler specifically for his friend.

“That’s what I told him!” Sangyeon projected his voice over the music, giving Hyunjae a supportive pat on the back.

Hyunjae rolled his eyes at his friends’ remarks and thanked Jongin for the beer, hanging around by the counter as the three conversed and caught up. The two laughed at the way Hyunjae’s face scrunched up at the taste, Sangyeon shoving him lightly with the claim that Hyunjae was being overdramatic.

With his earlier mindless decision of tossing on a mesh long-sleeve shirt over his black tank top, Hyunjae had attracted another partygoer by his side momentarily after his first sip. She wrapped her arms around one of his and inserted herself into the conversation with hopes of getting Hyunjae in bed by the end of the night, and crazily enough, he considered it for a moment before feeling his phone vibrate in his back pocket.

Normally it would be something he’d ignore, but it remained persistent, signifying that he was receiving a call. He didn’t know who would be calling at this hour—well, aside from Minghao and his usual complaints about Hyunjae partying as a high schooler on a school night.

After setting the glass down on the counter to grab his phone, any urgency to intoxicate himself as quickly as possible vanished the very second he saw your name glowing on his screen. With an awkward retraction of his arm and a forced cough, Hyunjae excused himself and answered the call.

“Hello?”

With music pounding inside his ear canals, it was expected that he couldn’t hear anything you were saying. He navigated through various crowds to reach the entrance of the house, his heart replicating the booming vibrations from the loudspeakers as he prayed that you wouldn’t hang up on him.

“Okay, I…I should be free now,” he stammered after stepping outside. The sudden stillness of Mother Nature was a drastic change from the party scene, coercing him to focus on his racing heartbeat and the anxiety accumulating in his tightening chest. He was breathing heavily, both from pushing through people in a rush and also because of you.

You never failed to render him weak and helpless, leaving him like a puppy longing for their owner’s guidance.

There was a silence, but he could hear your gentle breaths hitting your phone.

“I need a ride.”

Hyunjae blinked, his body tensing up, as the many thoughts in his brain scrambled to make meaning of what you meant. However, it didn’t matter because you hung up shortly after, leaving him alone to revel in your words.

Your bluntness and suddenty made Hyunjae malfunction, his thoughts leading him to question if he had even heard you correctly. Rarely did you ever reach out to him, and what could you need him for? Especially after lashing out at him and ignoring him for two months? Of course, there was that one day a week ago when you two were forced to talk together, the day he was given a one-day suspension, but you two returned to treating each other like strangers like it was natural.

He stared at his phone in hopes of receiving more information, that you’d perhaps call again to reconfirm or say you had the wrong number. He felt like he was dreaming—that the person he had wanted for so long needed him for once, but he couldn’t help but also believe that this may be the beginning of another nightmare.

But it was you, and Hyunjae was willing to risk it.

After checking his call logs to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, he rushed back into the fraternity house, thankful he didn’t proceed with drinking any more than he did.

He found everyone exactly where he had left them (the girl included) and announced his departure. The girl made sure Hyunjae knew how disappointed she was, but that was his last concern as he grabbed the beer bottle and handed it to Sangyeon, giving him a pat on the back.

“Drink up and find an Uber.”

“No fucking way you’re leaving us this soon, man.” Jongin shook his head in disapproval, his forearms resting against the countertop.

“Another time, I promise, yeah?” Hyunjae started walking away, waving to them as his heart continued to thrum in his chest.

“He’s lying,” Sangyeon snorted, taking a swig before bidding Hyunjae a bitter goodbye. “You owe me!"

Hyunjae ran out of the house, his legs making quick and long strides as he ran to his parked car down the block. His newfound adrenaline made him think about what he was sacrificing to be with you. Was leaving the party and betraying his friends worth spending even a second with you? What if you were asking him to drive you and your boyfriend somewhere? Could his heart even deal with being used like that?

But as much as Hyunjae hated it, he knew he was making the right choice. The self-respect he had for himself was buried six feet deep beneath the surface of the earth when it came to you.

God, he really hoped he wasn’t hallucinating.

For a split second, Hyunjae truly debated what he was doing after getting into his car. He was already driving, but he didn’t know where to go. Luckily, it didn’t take you long to send him a text with your location, and it was a place he was familiar with.

It was a park that he often frequented as a kid since it resided by his old neighborhood, and he was thankful he knew exactly where to go because he knew he would’ve definitely crashed the car while pulling up your location on his GPS. Hyunjae was doubtful it was the alcohol in his system making his fingers shake and his mind uneasy. He blamed you for his hysteria, one that had developed over years of endless longing.

Luckily the drive wasn’t long thanks to the roads being mainly void of other vehicles (and maybe he did speed a few times, but he considered it justified). Before pulling into the parking lot, he spotted a lone figure curled up on a nearby bench. A small weight had been lifted off of him, relieved it was just you, and he parked aimlessly while his eyes rested on you.

You seemed unphased by his added presence, your arms unmoving as they stayed wrapped around your legs. The bench you were sitting in was facing away from the parking lot, but with his headlights illuminating the view in front of you, you certainly had to know he was there.

In an ideal world, Hyunjae would leave his car, join you by your side, and, if he was lucky, he’d pull you into his arms and hold you close against his chest. He wanted to be there for you in whatever way he could, but he ended up being a deer in headlights, too afraid to make the wrong move and lose you again.

He sat there for a minute, watching you, and as soon as he received the confidence to reach for the handle of his door, you were up on your feet. His fingers paused midair as he traced your movements, his arm eventually falling to his side as you approach his car.

Despite how slow his mind was working, Hyunjae knew to unlock the car right as you opened it (he would’ve died out of embarrassment if he had forgotten), and neither of you greeted the other.

Without any explanation from you, Hyunjae refrained from staring at you like he normally would, but your outfit made it incredibly difficult. It wasn’t much, just an oversized long-sleeved shirt that reached your thighs, but it was far from the usual clothes he’d seen you wear, like jeans and a nice-fitting blouse. For a moment, he believed you had no pants on, but then he knocked some sense into himself, realizing that you were probably wearing shorts that were hidden.

While Hyunjae attempted to keep his composure and respect your boundaries, you were eyeing him shamelessly, once again analyzing every detail about him. Beads of sweat pooled up on the back of his neck, and his hair was straightened yet fuzzy. As your eyes trailed downwards, you noticed how the mesh hugged his biceps, catching every crease that defined his muscles. He was quiet, his index finger resting against his lips.

Where did he even come from?

And why was he so quick to listen?

You held back your tongue from dumping out your thoughts, knowing your questions would end up unanswered like before. Your body instinctively rested against the divot between the car door and your seat, keeping your distance from Hyunjae. He was meant to be a stranger, perhaps someone you loathed, yet there was an odd comfort that encased you from him just sharing the same air as you.

You cleared your throat, turning your head to look away when he flinched and snapped his gaze towards you.

“Drive.”

Your demand was no louder than a whisper, but Hyunjae picked it up effortlessly and was already backing out.

“Where to?”

“Anywhere.” Hyunjae raised a brow at your answer, and you buried yourself further into his seat, directing your gaze out the door. “Just-...anywhere, Jae.”

The nickname had his throat tightening and his chest leaping, nodding in your direction as he drove on autopilot. With no destination in mind, he strolled through familiar roads, his fingers tapping against the wheel.

You stayed silent, creating a tension that was unbearably thick, yet none of you felt the need to leave; neither of you wanted to leave the other, even if it meant having to deal with the looming elephant in the room (or in this case, Hyunjae’s car).

After spotting the recreational center from afar and its empty parking lot, he instinctively pulled in. There wasn’t a proper explanation for why he decided it’d make a great destination, especially when it was the place that created a rift in your relationship with him, but it felt right.

It was empty, open, and serene—a perfect place to stay as the moon shined.

Hyunjae stepped out of the car after parking in the middle of it, and when you didn’t follow, he moved to your side and opened the door. He was hesitant but took the risk of offering his hand to you, a warm, nervous smile on his face. He wanted you to know he was there to listen, to be there for you, because, Lord, he would hand you the world if he could.

“I’m not in the mood for walking,” you mumbled, but Hyunjae shook his head.

“We’re not going to walk, I promise.”

Your eyes flickered up to his briefly, skeptical of what he had planned, but ultimately caved. You ignored his hand, and he pulled it back with regret. When you stood there, your eyes on the sky, he closed the door behind you and guided you to the hood of his car.

Without a second thought, he sat on top of it and gestured for you to do the same.

“I sit here all the time. Helps me think.” He leaned back against his windshield, his hands holding the back of his head as he kept his eyes on the sky. When you didn’t move, he started to feel stupid, wondering if you two were better off in the car, but then you joined him.

You copied his position, staring upwards as your hands rested over your abdomen.

Hyunjae opted to keep to himself, deciding that he didn’t want to make this worse for the two of you. Instead, he fixated his thoughts on the stars in the sky.

There were only a few, but it was a rare sight due to the constant air pollution in your city, so he considered it a miracle. You, on the other hand, were spacing out in thought, and Hyunjae could tell through his occasional peeks. Without much control, his eyes started tracing down your arms. They then landed on where the hem of your shirt rested, now looking at your bare thighs.

Feeling as if he just reverted back to being the shyest virgin in the country, he gulped and immediately looked elsewhere, trying to get you off his mind despite you being right next to him. His racing heart was all that he could hear, and now he wondered if you could hear it too—if you knew how much you affected him.

And your voice broke the silence.

“How long have you known?”

Okay, maybe his brain did fall out of his skull because Hyunjae had no idea what you were talking about. He turned his head and caught how you stared up at the sky. Your eyes were glossy, holding the reflections of the whole galaxy within them. They sparkled, and for a beat, Hyunjae had forgotten your question, too infatuated with your beauty.

His silence resulted in you turning your head, gaze meeting his, and that was when he noticed the tears.

“About Jiwoong and Eunseo.”

Your light, your flames, his burning desire; all were gone in a flash.

Your voice was delicate, and Hyunjae knew that with one move, he could break you.

Directing his gaze heavenward, Hyunjae sighed and brought his arms down to rest over his chest. Somehow he was able to feel all the pain you were experiencing, his heart twisting while his stomach churned and sloshed around in his body. He thought about how to respond as he chewed on the inside of his lip, questioning if he should answer at all to avoid hurting you.

But you asked, and as always, Hyunjae delivered.

“I don’t think I ever really knew until last week,” he explained, “but I could always tell.” Suddenly, the fight from a week ago had resurrected, and Hyunjae was forced to relive it all.

The hallways were empty when Hyunjae left the broadcasting room, a backpack strap slung over his shoulder while the other dangled behind him. He was in the middle of scrolling through his emails when he picked up on the sound of Jiwoong’s voice around the corner.

His footsteps halted, and Hyunjae caught Jiwoong’s fatal words.

“How does tomorrow sound?”

Eunseo’s squeals followed after, and Hyunjae stood motionless.

At first, Hyunjae had no thoughts circulating in his brain, but after hearing their lips collide, he started coming up with solutions, such as interrupting or taking a video to send to you. Unfortunately, before he could act on either of them, he heard footsteps dashing off, practically skipping, as the two bidded one another goodbye.

Hyunjae couldn’t pinpoint the reasoning behind his upcoming actions, but he knew how to describe how he felt.

Anger was the first and only emotion to surge up within him, his fingers instinctively balling up into fists. His muscles had tightened while a forest fire ran rampant through his veins, causing his blood to boil.

Then with quick strides, Hyunjae shoved his phone away and made a sharp turn around the corner, tossing his backpack on the ground after spotting Jiwoong against the lockers. The latter had a dazed look on his face, his lips curled into a smirk as he typed away on his phone, but that was changed once he looked up at the sound of Hyunjae’s backpack crashing against the ground in front of him.

There wasn’t a second in between Jiwoong’s face of surprise and Hyunjae’s arm being raised, and before Jiwoong could react, Hyunjae’s fist had slammed into his jaw.

It was a blur from there, but Hyunjae knew he had won even after authorities dragged him off Jiwoong’s body. He had received a few jabs in return, but it was nothing compared to the black eye Hyunjae gave him.

The fact that Jiwoong managed to cover it up with makeup the day after was a miracle, and no one in the school knew about the fight since it happened after school. Hyunjae wanted it to stay that way, but a selfish, cruel part of him wished that everyone knew how sick your boyfriend was.

Well, now he was unsure if he was still your boyfriend.

Hyunjae turned his head back towards you, his cheek meeting the cold metal of his car.

You pursed your lips at his response and nodded slowly. If it were any other day, you wouldn’t have believed him. There was no universe where you’d choose to listen to Hyunjae over Jiwoong, but after a week of investigating and getting your head out of your ass, you found out on your own terms, and all the pieces made sense.

“I didn’t mean to.”

Hyunjae’s voice jerked you out of your thoughts, and as you adjusted to look back at him, you were surprised to still find him staring at you.

“I’m not a violent person, Y/N,” he whispered, an enduring hope lingering in his eyes. He wanted you to believe him, and for once, you did; you truly understood the man you hated most.

“I know, Jae.”

Hyunjae eased at your words, and the two of you fell back into a more comfortable yet aching silence. His fingers drummed against his abdomen, and after a while, he got sick of looking at the same four stars, so he closed his eyes, focusing on enjoying the light breeze instead. His heart was still racing, but it was less alarming. Regardless, he hated knowing that he potentially contributed to how much you were hurting right now.

Maybe if he had done something to prevent it earlier, whether it be telling you as soon as he found out or keeping completely out of your business so you could live in bliss, or, if he wasn’t so scared, he could’ve asked you to be his far before Jiwoong had. Maybe it wouldn’t have changed much, but Hyunjae would never know since he never tried, and now he was going to beat himself over it because now you’re devastated over losing your boyfriend and it was potentially his faul—

You laughed.

Hyunjae snapped his head towards you, his brows raised at your sudden change in mood—but it wasn’t the type of laugh he expected. Your laugh was one filled with pain, and he watched you shake your head, trying to refuse the tears that were rapidly welling up in your eyes once more. You sniffed and wiped the tears away with the back of your hand, choosing to look in the opposite direction because the last thing you wanted was for Hyunjae to see you vulnerable.

“It’s stupid,” you murmured. “This entire thing is stupid. I’m so fucking dumb.”

His lips parted to interject, to tell you that you were, in fact, ‘not dumb,’ but he clamped his mouth shut, knowing that his words probably wouldn’t help. From what he’d learned in the past, you liked it least when he tried telling you otherwise, no matter the situation.

“I should’ve known. I did know. The whole world knew. Even you knew, but it makes me think, was Eunseo just flocking around, flaunting to everyone that she had a crush on my boyfriend and managed to win him over? I just—I…I don’t know-...” You paused to catch your breath, beginning to choke on your tears as your chest shook, “I don’t know what I did wrong, you know?”

You shut your eyes, allowing the pain to engulf you. You knew fully well that your punishment was to deal with the pain, but you felt like you didn’t deserve it—that you deserved none of this. Why was this a penalty for being in love?

It was humiliating having everyone witness the reality you shielded from yourself, choosing hope and love over the truth.

“I just never felt more stupid in my life, and I feel even more stupid knowing that I still love him.”

Hyunjae sucked in his lips, gnawing on them as he bit back all his feelings, from his brain shredding to his heart weeping.

“I love him so much that I would let him do it to me all over again because I keep thinking he’d be better. I know he can be better, so why-...It’s just- Why do I do this to myself?”

Tears cascaded down your cheeks, each one leaving behind a trail for others to fall. They started pouring out of you rapidly, soon sobbing at the heart-wrenching pain of being betrayed by everyone in your life, Hyunjae included, because why, out of everyone, was he here for you when he should be the last person who cared?

You always wanted Hyunjae to be the antagonist of your life story, to have him as your biggest enemy and threat, so why was everyone else but him hurting you? Why was the villain of your fantasy taking the role of your knight in shining armor?

And yet, as much as it pained Hyunjae to process all your emotions, his mind wasn’t running correctly; he had you alone for the first time in months. He wanted nothing more than to pull you in his arms and whisper words of comfort in your ears, knowing you deserved it more than anyone, but he also wanted to shake you awake and slap you out of your misery, praying that you’d forget about Jiwoong; that right now, you being vulnerable was his chance to swoop in, to set whatever you wanted him to into flames, as long as if it meant you’d end up okay.

You sat up because if you lied down any longer, you would’ve started drowning in your own tears. Your sleeves were soaked, and he sat up alongside you, figuring that he should do something about it.

Hyunjae got back onto his feet and stood in front of you. He barely knew what he was doing, but that didn’t stop him from replacing your sleeves with his cold, clammy hands over your cheeks. There wasn’t a time that Hyunjae could recall where he had been this gentle with someone, and when you didn’t push him away, he tilted your head up to look at him.

Even with tears running down your cheeks, you looked angelic as ever.

Each droplet mirrored a star from the sky, and your eyes sparkled as they stayed locked on his.

“Take me,” you whispered, and Hyunjae’s whole world stopped.

“...What?” Hyunjae had only intended to wipe your tears away with the pads of his hands, perhaps whisper something along the lines of him being here for you for the night (and the rest of his life, let’s be honest), yet your first words were—no, he had to have been hallucinating.

Your hands trembled as they reached for his wrist, and although you were severely broken, the grip your fingers created was firm.

“Please.”

Like a moth to a flame, Hyunjae admired how pretty you looked, your lips plump and eyes wide, and he wanted nothing more than to take you into his backseat and treat you the way he’d always wanted to, especially after hearing your pleas, but he knew better. You both knew better.

“What exactly are you implying?” he asked, feeling like you had just inhaled all his oxygen and left him breathless.

You released his wrist and opted to hold onto his sleeve, tugging on it as you tried to get him to understand you.

“I want it to hurt, Jaehyun.”

Your tears were gone, and there was a hint of dominance in your tone that would’ve had him dropped to his knees in front of you. You were also one of the very few who resorted to calling him Jae, and now his actual name. He favored Hyunjae, but after hearing ‘Jaehyun’ from your lips, his preference had completely made a turnaround.

But Hyunjae worked to collect his thoughts, fully aware that this was wrong and he’d have to be the bigger person here. As much as he hated himself for giving up the perfect opportunity to have the girl of his dreams, he couldn’t ignore the large concern over your current mental state.

“You’re not thinking straight, Y/N,” he reasoned softly, his fingers reaching up to brush your hair out of your face, and for a second, Hyunjae swore he felt the alcohol kicking in—or perhaps it was you instead. The thought of being able to have you right now, to touch you and press his hands over your skin, to have you as his for just this night, was so intoxicating that he was seconds away from foaming at the mouth.

“I don’t need to think straight. I don’t want to think at all.”

Everything felt hotter and tighter, but he kept his composure, though with his eyes dropping to your begging lips and then your delicate fingers, he knew he was beginning to lose whatever was left of his sanity.

But he also knew you were using him; you had to be. There was no other explanation. It was only minutes ago when you professed how you continued to feel about Jiwoong—that your heart still belonged to him, and Hyunjae was allowed nowhere near it. He was your backup, your second option, yet that happened to be better than nothing, right?

Especially when he could have you right here, right now.

“You’re using me.”

Your expression didn’t falter.

“Then say no. Make us go back into your car and drive me home.” Your hand dropped from holding onto his sleeve but that was so you could wrap your arms around his neck, slowly bringing yourself closer to him. His cheeks were flushed as his mind flooded with possibilities of what could happen. Never had you ever wanted him, and he’d been dreaming of a moment like this for years. Your tear-stained cheeks, your pouty red lips—he wanted all of you.

“But you won’t,” you whispered, your breath hitting his skin. Your eyes landed on his lips, now craving him as much as he craved you. You needed a release, an outlet, to justify Jiwoong being better than Hyunjae. Hyunjae was worse in every way possible, and you wanted him to prove that to you. “You’d do anything I’d say, wouldn’t you?”

“What makes you say that?” Little did you know Hyunjae was crumbling inside, completely melting as his fingers grew weak at the idea of your lips on his. His hands, although wary, traveled to your waist, feeling your curves before trailing his hands down to your hips to grip them.

“You love me, don’t you?”

His heart stuttered, all words caught up in his throat, but he knew there was no defending himself—not when he was practically drooling at every move you made; he was hyperaware of the hand playing with the hair on his nape, the way your lips nearly hovered over his, and how your tears glistened under the moonlight.

His entire existence was confirmation of your words, and you knew it.

“You’d do anything for me, Jae. What’s stopping you now?”

There was a stillness as you two stared at one another. He swallowed and pulled slightly back.

He knew better.

“You don’t want me.” He was brokenhearted, a part of him understanding that you’d never be his, yet he wanted you in so many ways, wishing to have your mewls fill his ears and the smell of sex staining his clothes. The bulge in his pants was forming and pressing up against the tight confinement, making him groan.

He dropped his head downwards, his forehead leaning to rest against yours, as he closed his eyes and did his best to regulate his breathing—repeating in his head and out loud, again.

He knew better.

“You’re using me.”

You both knew better.

Yet with your lips ghosting his and your eyes half-hooded, you were prepared to give into the dark side.

“And I say take advantage of it.”

Hyunjae dived and pressed his lips onto yours, hunger driving his every movement. There was no stopping when he felt your lips curling up into a grin, his hands shifting to wrap around your torso to drag you closer. His heart burst at how perfectly his lips molded with yours, and it seemed as if there was fire shooting up into the sky and exploding—they weren’t fireworks, and the explosion was far bigger and more dangerous. It lit the entirety of the sky, the moon and stars included, into flames, a desire unlike any other.

Your left hand pressed firm against the back of his neck while the other traveled through his hair. Meanwhile, his hands had snuck beneath your shirt and felt for your lower back. Heavy breaths left the two of you as desperation crept through your veins, dictating your every movement.

The cold touch from his hands ignited your nervous system, every sense activated and overstimulated by Hyunjae as you released a breathy moan into his mouth.

You didn’t want him, but fuck, you needed him.

When you would pull back, his lips would chase yours, and you two fell into an endless cycle. He couldn’t even fathom how you were pulling away for air when you were his oxygen. Maybe you weren’t oxygen itself, but the fumes you emitted had already replaced his need for air, deluding him into believing that you were what he needed to stay alive.

You were suffocating, toxic, and destructive, and he wanted more.

After retracting from the kiss for the nth time, you turned your head to hold Hyunjae back from continuing. You both were panting, your cunt soaking, and he stared into your eyes like a puppy awaiting their next direction.

“Good boy,” you praised, and he laughed lowly and sheepishly, dropping his head as he processed what happened and the idea of it being potentially over.

“You’re lethal,” he breathed out.

“And you’re pitiful,” you spat. There was a playful grin on your lips, but those words ignited something within Hyunjae. He raised his head and cocked a brow at you, questioning your genuinity.

Just minutes ago you were crying over a guy that treated you terribly, and yet here you thought you had the authority to call him weak.

Perhaps he was; he was falling deeper into your pitless trap, enticed with every movement of yours, but he knew for a fact you weren’t any better than him.

You both were sick in the head for falling for people that treated the other like shit, yet your drive, your fuel, to win over the hearts of the people you loved was so strong, and it made you two unstoppable.

Hyunjae would punch Jiwoong all over again if he could.

Without a second thought, Hyunjae ducked his head down and ruthlessly attached his lips to your neck, eliciting a gasp from you. He kissed your skin fervently, his fingers teasing the rim of your shorts, and your hands shifted to hold onto his shoulders for support. You found yourself tossing your head back, providing him more room to do as he pleased, that if Jiwoong were to see you with marks on your neck, then maybe he’d want you back.

“Bold of you to call me pitiful,” he grumbled, sucking onto your neck until a blot of purple began to form.

“But it’s true, no?”

“You’re just as bad, Y/N.” He licked a stripe up your neck and over the mark, and the sensation made you cringe, disgust itching at your skin due to being covered in his saliva, but you wanted more of it. You wanted Hyunjae to treat you like you were nothing, to treat you worse than Jiwoong ever had, so you could direct your blame over to Hyunjae instead of your unknowing boyfriend.

You turned your head and slotted your lips with his again, already addicted to how perfect they were for you. Hyunjae knew the exact way to kiss you, to keep you on your toes, as your slick pooled up in your underwear at the mere thought of Hyunjae touching you.

The kiss was eager, a fight for control, and when Hyunjae didn’t surrender, you raised your knee, forcing your thigh to brush up against his crotch.

He gasped at the sensation and pulled away, bangs hanging over his eyes as he looked down at the sight. You teased him by keeping your touches gentle, but you made sure to keep your leg moving. Nothing intrigued you more than seeing Hyunjae beg or rut against your thigh, further proof of how pathetic he was for you. You gained a sense of ego knowing that he could have any girl in the world, that he has had every girl, and yet he would always come back to you. Now that you had him, it would be harder for him to return to a life without you under him, moaning his name.

You wanted to be his downfall.

Your nails latched onto the mesh, taking note of how easy it would be to rip the material, before pressing your thigh firmly up against his dick, making him jerk.

“You’re-...oh my god, Y/N,” he gasped, breathless. His eyes meet your devious ones, how you were basically Satan himself, and somehow, someway, he wouldn’t ask for anything different. “You’re playing a losing…a losing- game.”

“What more do I have left to lose?” There was some truth in your words as vulnerability struck you. Your leg then lowered as you regained a slight sense of reality, realizing that you were forcing Hyunjae into being your selfish source of relief. You hated Hyunjae, sure, but you knew this was the last thing he deserved—to use him when he’d been nothing but accommodating to you.

And your sick and twisted plan was that after this encounter, you’d leave him to rot.

Hyunjae didn’t deserve that at all.

But Hyunjae was already too far gone, too intoxicated, to even consider the repercussions of how he’d end up after this. The loss of contact with his crotch was what had him picking you up from his car, the tips of his fingers digging into your thighs, as he led you to the backseat.

Your eyes widened, your senses fully back, but you made him like this, and you were going to pay for it. Although scared for about what’s to come, the anticipation had you drooling, your lips pressing fierce kisses onto his skin while he opened the door with you in his arms.

He laid you down gently and crawled over you, keeping you trapped between his arms.

“This is what you wanted, right? For me to tear you apart until you can run back to Jiwoong and justify how poorly he treats you?”

Your brows bunched up at his words, your legs getting antsy being under him. There was no answering him, not when Hyunjae already knew how you were going to respond.

He brought one of his hands into your shorts and made the aggravating decision to slide his fingers over your underwear, depriving you of contact with his fingers.

Yet even with your underwear being a divider, he found your clit with ease and immediately started rubbing circles into the bud, making you buck your hips with a whine. The friction of the cloth was something you were unfamiliar with, and lord did it mess with you.

“You want me to treat you how he sees you? Worthless and undeserving of respect?” He flicked your clit and kissed your jaw. “If that’s what you want, that’s exactly what my princess is going to get.”

“Fuck,” you moaned, using your hands to push onto his shoulders and force him down. The drive to ride his tongue was strong, and if he kept teasing you, you would have lost it.

“I know you inside and out, Y/N. I know you better than him, and this is how you treat me.” He sucked in a cheek but ultimately decided to comply with what you wanted. He pulled off your shorts yet left your underwear on, and his brows raised. He wasn’t sure how his fingers had missed the texture of lace, but what you were wearing was certainly lingerie.

You looked down to see why he stopped, and when you realized why he froze, heat rose to your cheeks.

“I wanted to feel pretty,” you whispered, shutting your eyes after turning your head. It was embarrassing, now that you thought about it, but Hyunjae’s heart soared, and he wanted nothing more than for you to know how ethereal you looked.

But he shoved the feeling away, allowing his frustrations to get the better half of him.

When he pulled off your underwear, he cooed at how your essence oozed onto the material and raised the undergarment into the air, waiting for you to look.

“Did I do this?”

His mocking tone kept you from looking, but your curiosity got the best of you. You were met with the sight of a large wet, dark patch on your underwear, biting down on your lip as you looked at him with wide eyes. If you thought about it, you couldn’t remember the last time you felt like this, or if there ever had been a time when you craved someone this badly.

He tossed it to the side and his hands massaged your thighs, keeping them spread open so he got a proper view of your core on display for him. The sight truly stunned him, reminding him that this was you he fantasized about and replicated with other girls—no one else.

“Do you normally take this long?” you rasped, tossing your head back against the seat, and Hyunjae rolled his eyes.

“I do you a favor, and this is how you treat me.”

“A favor is a stretch—”

Hyunjae plunged two fingers into your mouth, having them press firmly down against your tongue. He latched onto your jaw and pulled your head forward and up towards him, having your eyes meet his.

“Remind me, Y/N, who was begging for this?”

He dropped your head back down against the seat before you could even respond and used whatever saliva accumulated in your mouth as temporary lube, figuring that your slick would help him with stretching you out. You grunted at the impact, feeling helpless, as Hyunjae finally inserted his fingers inside of you.

Hyunjae’s fingers were enough to have your eyes rolling, but it was the ring that he wore that stimulated you the most. You weren’t aware that he was even wearing one, yet the cold band against your raging wet heat made you whimper and desperately grasp for his hair.

“Jaehyun, please,” you begged.

He chuckled and kept his movements slow, forcing you to fuck yourself onto his fingers weakly. When you did, he was in awe at how stunning you looked, how you seemed to be in your own world, and how you were enjoying him. By curling his fingers, a moan was pulled from your throat, making your eyes open as you looked at him. You continued to pool around his fingers, your voice weakly begging for so much more than his fingers and the cold air that brushed against your skin.

Never had you felt more vulnerable, but Hyunjae never once made you feel like you were doing something wrong, making you cling desperately to him. You forced his face down into your crotch and jerked at the feeling of his nose brushing up against your clit.

“Shameless, aren’t you?” he commented, laughing lowly, but you were too out of it to care.

“Shut the-...F-fuck, oh my god.”

Your whines had gotten more incessant the more useless he became, his fingers now completely stilled inside of you as he watched you roll your hips with a cheeky grin. He wanted to drag this out for as long as possible, knowing fully well that he could last all night.

When he took out his fingers, you were yanked out of your bliss and nearly begged for him to put them back in, but before you could get a word out, he had replaced his digits with his tongue. Your slick was dripping onto his lips, and as he dragged his wet muscle up and down your folds, he made sure to collect a small puddle of you onto his tongue to eventually swallow, wanting to savor you.

“Oh-...Oh my god, Jae—” Your orgasm was approaching, unsure of how it was here so soon, but you recognized the signs from the coil in your chest tightening to losing every sensation to the man beneath you. You rocked your hips continuously onto his tongue, and his thumb attached to your clit, making you see stars with how rapid his movements were.

He pulled his face back and forced his fingers back into you, and the final curl was what made you reach your peak, your hips in the air as you cried out his name.

As you came down from your high, you caught a glance of the way Hyunjae was looking at you; to him, you were otherworldly, and it was a sight he’d never forget. He wondered if Jiwoong ever saw you like this, if he ever made you feel this way, and suddenly his admiration had soured and contoured to something of darkness, rid of any empathy as he now looked at you with some form of disgust.

“All this for me, and you still have the fucking audacity to choose him.”

The mention of Jiwoong had your eyes wide open, tears reappearing at the mention and while being in your most vulnerable state. Your legs shook from the aftermath, feeling too weak to continue, yet Hyunjae seemed to have other plans.

Instead of shoving his fingers back into either of your mouths, he hovered over you and made sure you saw the way he dragged his fingers around your abdomen, drawing aimlessly over your skin with your essence before dragging a hand up to your breasts, massaging one of them as his other hand rested by your waist.

“Tell me, Y/N, did you buy this for him and never got to use it? That’s why you’re wearing it now with me? Am I your sloppy seconds?”

There was a slight growl under his tone, and while you shook your head subconsciously, he worked to remove your shirt, wanting a better look at your bra, before being met with a necklace you had been hiding; one with Jiwoong’s name.

And Hyunjae took no time breaking it from your neck.

Your jaw dropped, and you snapped out of your daze by sitting straight up, yet as you were about to yell at him for breaking your necklace, he shoved three fingers back into your pussy, shutting you up by having you moan at the intrusion.

“It looked cheap, anyway,” he muttered, forcing his mouth against yours momentarily to nip on your lower lip, tugging on it so your focus remained on him.

“That was—he’s mine,” you forced out, gasping at every thrust he made with his fingers, your sweet spot being abused as your hands latched onto his shoulders. You made sure your nails dug into his skin, wanting it to hurt, before pulling onto the mesh, wishing for it to tear.

“He’s not yours, princess. Tell me, how can you say that when his dick has been up other girls?” With his free hand, he grabbed your face and made sure you were staring straight at him before shoving it to the side.

“You need to fucking wake up and realize that you can dream all you want about how he’d react if he saw you hopping on my dick, but guess what? He wouldn’t care.” Hyunjae pulled out his fingers and left you alone in the backseat.

You sat there, a wreck and vulnerable, as you tried to catch your breath. You lay back on your forearms, curious eyes following his every movement.

“There’s a reason he hasn’t left you yet,” Hyunjae explained, opening the front door to his car to grab a condom and his phone. He tucked both into his back pocket before returning to you, bringing your lips to his before continuing to talk within the kiss.

“He’s stringing you along so you can boost his ego. He knows you will always be there for him, and you allow him to use you like that?”

You wrapped your fingers around Hyunjae’s neck, squeezing it before pushing it away to keep your distance, your frustration starting to grow.

“I’m beginning to think you’re all bark and no bite, Jaehyun,” you muttered, and with whatever strength you had left, you pushed him against the seat and got into his lap. Without hesitation, you started rocking your hips over his clothed dick, hoping your slick would seep in so he could feel you.

He hissed but allowed you to do as you pleased, his grip tight on your hips.

“I-...I think…if you asked me, you’re the one who’s projecting. I’m the one in a relationship, and you’re just a side piece.”

The speed of your hips increased, and Hyunjae felt ecstasy on the tip of his tongue, the confinements of his pants physically paining him the more you continued.

“You’re jealous, Jae. Just admit it.”

You pulled at his hair, loving the absolute control you had over him at that moment, but in one languid motion, Hyunjae managed to push you back down, this time with your stomach against the seats. You could feel your bodily fluids sticking to the nylon, and with how hard Hyunjae was pressing down into you, you were barely given a chance to move.

With one hand on your lower back, he kept you still as he took out both his phone and condom, making sure to place both on top of your bare skin.

“What’s there to be jealous of when you’re here under me? You want to be fucked stupid? Fine. Don’t fucking complain when you want me to be the villain.” You lurched at his words, refusing to let him win, but you were completely unable to do much damage as Hyunjae kicked off his pants and boxers while still keeping his weight on you.

He then picked up his phone and pulled up the camera, making sure to take a photo of you in his car before clicking record and tossing the phone onto the ground, hoping it was close enough to pick up on your sweet noises.

“Make sure to be loud for me, yeah? I’m sure Jiwoong would love it if I sent that video to him.”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare,” you bit back, your hand reaching out in an attempt to grab the device, but Hyunjae was quicker to grab your wrist, pinning it behind your back.

“I wouldn’t because I know how to appreciate what’s mine.” Hyunjae released his hold on you to roll on the condom, giving you the opportunity to move and take his phone as you pleased. To your dismay, there was no more effort left within you, only an ache to feel Hyunjae inside you.

“He appreciates me,” you mumbled, trying to convince yourself otherwise as you waited.

“Does he record you? Jerk off to your moans every night? Because I would, Y/N, just for you.” His voice was now by your ear, and when you turned your head to look at him, he pulled you into another hungry kiss, his dick now grazing against your hole.

“You’re fucking insane,” you bit back into the kiss, and he grinned against your lips, guiding his dick into you as he spoke.

“Psychotic, just for my princess.”

Venom laced his voice, dripping menacingly, and the insertion of his tip had you grasping for something in front of you, anything, and it was only then that you were able to process how thick his cock was.

“Can you take it?” he asked, his voice slightly softer than before. When you gave him a curt nod, he continued pushing in further. Maybe lube should’ve been an option, but you were so wet for him that it didn’t matter, knowing that the stretch probably would have hurt regardless.

“Fuck, fuck—he really doesn’t know what he’s missing,” Hyunjae gasped, his head resting against the back of yours. It was better than anything he’d dreamed of, better than any girl he imagined, because it was you, and your body was made for him.

“When was the last time he fucked you?” He was fully inside of you now, and when you didn’t answer, he decided to take it as a sign to move. With a firm grip on your waist, he pulled out just to slam back in, making you yell as you clawed at the seat, wishing there was something to bite on as you endured the pain that was quick to morph into pleasure.

Every glide pushed you further into the car, your forearms occasionally hitting the door, as his hips moved vigorously, working up to a pace that had you moaning without pause. Tears were flowing down your cheeks at the overwhelming pleasure of being manhandled—of being Hyunjae’s rag doll when he was meant to be yours, and your body seized up, being worked up to your orgasm once more with how precise each thrust seemed to be.

He adjusted to raise one of your legs to his hip, giving him a new angle to pound into you as he worships you with his dick, and you shook out of pleasure, whining as you saw white and reached your second orgasm for the night. You pulsated around his cock, strangled moans ripping from your throat as tears mixed with your drool by your chin.

And Hyunjae showed no signs of stopping.

He made sure to press your face down against the seats, wanting every liquid to fall and stain his car, giving him something to remember you by.

Oh, and there was the recording too.

While kneeling inside of the cramped car, he slowed his movements and inclined his torso towards you. In one swift motion, he wrapped his arm around your neck and pulled you up, locking you inside his elbow as he forced you to look into your reflection in the car window.

“Look at you, the school’s favorite slut. What happens if the recording drops? The whole school would know you’re mine, wouldn’t they?” He pressed his chest against your back, the mesh rubbing against your skin as his lips remained near your ear, forcing you to listen to every word.

You limped against him, your flames completely burnt out, and your fingers tugged onto the mesh around his arm, successfully ripping it after some time, but Hyunjae seemed unphased. In fact, it turned him on even more knowing that he had you locked in, that you were his.

“Look at your pretty cunt taking me in so well. It was so wet for me, wasn’t it? It still is. And guess what? You’re in my car. You belong to me, and my good girl is only now just finding out about it, isn’t she?”

“I-I’m…I’m not-...not yours,” you retaliated, creating red angry marks into his skin with your nails as you endured being used, stifling your moans as you looked at how wrecked you were, how bare you seemed to be compared to Hyunjae. You were much more of a mess, from your hair to the bruises on your neck. Your pussy kept tightening up around his dick, convulsing occasionally with every hit toward your g-spot, and you held onto Hyunjae each time.

Your head drooped down, thinking about how your heart ached for Jiwoong, yet the rest of your body was meant for Hyunjae.

“Whose fucking dick is inside of you right now?” He scoffed and pulled on your hair, forcing your head back up so he could directly speak into your ear. “Wake up, Y/N,” he demanded. “You’re mine.”

He dropped you back onto the seat like you were nothing, leaving you completely helpless, your throat void of any words as your eyes closed and met the back of your skull, too fucked out to communicate. You tried reaching for the door handle, just something to hold onto, yet you couldn’t.

“You tell me I’m pitiful, that I’m basically delusional when you’re going to be the reason my car will smell like sex for weeks.”

Your face was forced back into the puddle of liquid you created earlier, being shifted back and forth against the seat as if you were made for his dick and not vice versa.

“It’s crazy how pathetic you are, how willing you are to break yourself down in front of everyone just to have him. That-...fuck…that you’re so convinced he wants you and you two are soulmates.” He dragged his fingers through your hair and grabbed your roots. “You called me, you wanted me, and I have you right now, moaning my name, and you have nothing.”

Something about his words kept bringing out your orgasms, each thrust adding to the pleasure immensely. You didn’t know how much you could handle—afraid you may pass out from how much he was using you, from his tight grip around you to his dick hitting inside of you mercilessly.

Hyunjae whispering ‘I won, Y/N’ was what had you losing it, your high this time ending up stronger than the rest. You were fully crying now, and yet he continued as if you were nothing.

He peppered your shoulder with kisses and had the slight decency to slow his pace, but he also took note of your sobs.

“Don’t tell me you still want him,” he began rambling, his lips still on your shoulder. “Don’t tell me after this that your heart still belongs to him, because if that were the case, I’d make you call him right now. Say you wish it was him instead of me, and that he’s the love of your life while you’re stuffed with my dick. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You could no longer think, and what you hated most was how reactive your body was—how you were just able to come for the third time, but Hyunjae’s dick solely being inside you snapped some other straw you weren’t aware you had, finding that your last high was incoming.

Hyunjae had picked up the pace by then, and by knowing your body incredibly well, he reached down to your sensitive clit to relieve you. You both knew your fourth was arriving, and you held on tight to his arm.

“J-Jaehy- hyun, I’m—”

“Mine.”

You cried out, your entire body shaking, and Hyunjae pulled out, immediately releasing onto your back with a guttural moan after yanking off the condom. He was forced to catch his breath, watching you float in and out of consciousness.

Your eyes were closed, struggling to breathe through your sobs, and Hyunjae consoled you with a kiss on the back of your shoulder.

“You’re mine, Y/N, whether you like it or not.”

He then pressed a kiss to your cheek before leaving to grab paper towels from his trunk. You were heaving, still shaking, and left alone as a mess in his backseat, yet with him gone, you felt even more useless, wanting him back by your side instantly. You weakly cried out for him, your nails dragging against the seat in hopes of being in his arms soon, and maybe he was right.

Maybe you were his.

OUR INFERNO [ M.LIST | TWO ]

NAVIGATION — THE BOYZ

367 notes · View notes

gluion · 9 months

Text

[part one] the perfect pair ➵ “ew, is that sunwoo over there? 저리 꺼져.”

esports player!kim sunwoo x esports player!reader

being a woman in the esports league is hard, but dealing with cocky kim sunwoo is unmatched. with the valorant champions tour about to commence, you two are forced to team up to retrieve the trophy. what will be tested—team morale or your patience around sunwoo?

chapter genre/warnings ➵ enemies to lovers, afab reader (they/them pronouns), slow burn, slight angst, crack, sexual tension, misogynistic & sexist remarks and behaviors, sunwoo is such an annoying teammate... retired ow player now val player…, rush gets introduced YIPPEE, sunwoo gets jealous...?, bets are made, a lot of gamer lingo (check the guide & visual aids!)

word count ➵ 10.5k words

parts ➵ check out the series masterlist

a/n ➵ it's out! felt a lil pressured by the number of notes i wont lie! i hope u guys enjoy this along with the visual aid <3 special shoutout to @shegotthewoobies @vernyangel @heemingyu @deobienthusiast for beta reading <3 much love to you all <3 esp to ki who made the usernames <3 if you enjoyed reading, do reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

HYST wins VCT’s Game Changers By Bae Sumin

HYST takes the title as the winner of the Valorant Championship Tour (VCT) Game Changers in Los Angeles, USA against defending champion 88RR. The team took over the playing field, showcasing their astounding teamwork and tactful gameplays, and won 3-1 in a best-of-five series.

Since the first match on Bind, players Ailurus (Y/N) and bokku (Miyawaki Sakura) demonstrated their chemistry through their formidable performance as Omen and Yoru respectively. Their alliance was enough for their opponents to avoid one-on-one battles.

Rising player Ppiya (Hong Eunchae) secures her position as one of the most impressive duelists to come from this year’s VCT. In all of the matches played, Ppiya secures at least one kill per round, placing her 3rd in the leaderboards out of all players in the event.

In their second match on Ascent, remarkable sentinel players CHUU (Kim Jiwoo) and subakhye (Son Hyeju) built solid defense systems and dealt with flanks with ease. They can adjust their setups accordingly as they observe their opponents’ playstyle.

Although their exceptional performance in Game Changers makes its mark in VCT history, Ailurus only hopes that they are given more opportunities to engage in such tournaments. “I am happy [about our win], but I hope that the [VALORANT] esports scene sees us more than just winners [of Game Changers]. I want to be seen as a remarkable player regardless of gender,” they share.

Despite HYST participating in VCT for the past two years, this is their first championship win. In last year’s VCT, the organization met its defeat in VALORANT Challengers through their other roster consisting of players bae (Jacob Bae), nuguri (Kim Sunwoo), Darong (Lee Jaehyun), gyulz (Ju Haknyeon), and Maize (Lee Juyeon).

Both teams are under the guidance of Coach bori (Kim Younghoon), a retired VALORANT and League of Legends pro player.

These turn of events displayed HYST’s dedication to improvement and VALORANT. Many followers hope to see more of the reigning champions of Game Changers.

ROUND 1: “WELCOME TO MY WORLD!”

The moon radiates tonight, its white gleam accompanied by speckles amidst the sea of black. Now would be the perfect moment to take some time to yourself; get in more hours of sleep, or pick up a book you’ve been putting off. Instead…

“Hi, everyone! It’s been a while,” you greet your viewers through the webcam.

The monitor shines on you, colors of blue and violet painting your skin. On the wall behind you is a shelf filled with memorabilia; medals from small competitions along with trophies from bigger tournaments.

“I know it’s a little late here, but I was itching to play some matches.” Your eyes glide through your stream’s chat. Many viewers are ecstatic to have you back on Twitch while others question your late hours of streaming.

jseollie: even after game changers?? CRAZY! bboppull: GRIND NEVER STOPS 💪💪💪 bookeucutie: tell us abt vct!!!

A chuckle leaves you as you open up Valorant. “I really enjoyed my time in VCT! I met some of my favorite players like Lorri from Evil Genius, sonder from Shopify, even Version1’s MeL.”

You lean back on your chair as you recall the event. “I won’t lie, I was very nervous about going against 88RR, which, by the way, is a lovely team. We met up for drinks after.” You scratch the back of your neck as you try to go through what your chat says.

“I remember talking to Kura about it since the semifinals, and she had to give me a constant pep talk.” The memory of Sakura knocking sense into you after every match makes you laugh.

As you dish to your viewers about your experience throughout Game Changers, you read their comments. Many of your viewers were happy with your revelation of the teams' bonds with each other. “Yeah, we’re competitive but we’re here with the same dreams, so I think it did help us form some kind of connection. I was able to exchange contacts with Sunmi and Taeyeon as well. I told them that whenever they decide to come back to Korea, they should give me a call.”

ajiajibee: is the trophy with you? ghanadara: i think it’s beside the picture frame

“Oh, I don’t get to keep it. It’s back in the headquarters,” you say as you slightly swivel your chair to the side. “That picture frame, however,” you point at your shelf, “is my certificate. That way, we all have something to bring home.”

You adjust your chair before smiling at the camera. “Anyway, I’m really happy that our practice paid off. It was an honor to even participate and meet other players.”

Most of the reactions were positive ones; congratulations and desires to see your team play together for more events. Yet, regardless of your achievements, there’s constantly a handful of negative ones.

hwithefool: Cant believe you won game changers. Ur not even that good. hwithefool: didn’t even get to champs L honeycube: boosted ass universefactory deleted hwithefool’s message. universefactory deleted hwithefool’s message. universefactory deleted honeycube’s message. hwithefool is now banned from this chat. Reason: Being rude honeycube is now banned from this chat. Reason: Being rude

Thankfully, your moderators were there to take control of such—but you’ll always know what people think of you.

“Anyway, for today’s stream, I’ll be playing with Juhak and Hyeju!” You exclaim as you switch scenes, now showing the Valorant lobby. “We’re going to play on our alt accounts for today, so it should be fun.”

real_juhaknyeon: LFGGGGG goated team rubyvobo: we get nom, jeorge porkwell, AND hyejuseyo?? We win today sunwooluver: what about nuguri?? he’s solo queuing right now rubyvobo: OFHEJSHSJJSKS I LOVE YOU GUYS sunwooluver: WILL NUGURI JOIN??

One of the few perks that comes with being an established streamer is that you could ignore comments, pretending you never saw them, and you’d get away with it; people just didn’t need to talk about it all together and you’d be fine.

So when you invite Haknyeon and Hyeju to your party, you continue talking to your chat about today’s stream. “We’re not going to play ranked today, I think?” You hum for a moment, going through the agenda in your head. “Well, we might, but I have no clue. It depends on what they want.”

Before you can continue with your rambles, your phone vibrates on your desk. Once you grab it, you notice that text messages from Kim Younghoon, the coach of the organization, have come your way.

coach bbang 🍞: hi y/n! don’t forget to remind your teammates about tomorrow’s meeting for vct ☺️ coach bbang 🍞: and gl with your stream tonight! y/n: teewai coach :DD see u tomo

“Sorry about that!” You put your phone away and give your full attention to your monitor. Hyeju and Haknyeon already joined your party, and you spot that they’re in a voice channel on the HYST’s Discord server. “Before I go join VC with the others, I just wanted to say thank you for supporting me and the others in Game Changers. It was a fun but tough competition, and I wouldn’t be here without you guys.”

Although your job did start as a hobby, you continued to persevere through such hardships thanks to your support systems; your teammates and viewers alike. You only ever considered going pro thanks to two friends. Unfortunately, time has its way of making you drift apart from them; you hope you can go face-to-face against them one day if the universe willed for it.

“Anyway, let’s have some good games!”

“I tuned in to your stream last night, Y/N,” Eunchae starts. “That losing streak is insane.”

You sigh, shoulders down as you walk dejectedly. “Don’t even get me started. Our randos were ass and wouldn’t stop talking shit.” You look at your younger friend who only pouts as you recap the events of last night. “I know you would always enter and clear sites for us, my Manchae.”

With your arm wrapped around her shoulder, her expression shifts into a smile. “I mean, that’s the least I can do as your duelist.”

“Well, not everyone seems to know that.”

The HYST headquarters is a three-story infrastructure whose interior resembles corporate buildings; the furniture is mostly of sleek leather and dark-stained wood. Monotone linoleum tiles and off-white walls stretch throughout the building.

As soon as you both arrive in front of the meeting room, you swing the doors open, revealing Sakura, Hyeju, and Jiwoo who sit together on one side of the conference table. You and Eunchae rush to them, exchanging greetings and embraces.

“Do you always play Valorant?” Jiwoo directs the question to you, referencing your stream last night with Hyeju and Haknyeon, to which you roll your eyes.

“No, I just had the itch to play!” You take a seat in between Sakura and Jiwoo. “Plus, I’ll take any opportunity to make some money.”

The doors swing open. “Hi, everyone. It’s nice to see you all,” Younghoon greets your team before walking to the whiteboard situated in the corner of the room.

The organization’s general manager, Lee Sangyeon, trails behind him, a smile painting his face as he takes a seat at the end of the table. “I’ll say this again, but good work in Game Changers.”

“Thanks, Sangyeon,” Sakura expresses her gratitude on behalf of the team. “We wouldn’t have been able to win without your help along with Younghoon’s.”

He shakes his head, trying to play it off. “No, I’m just here to make sure you guys get to participate, you know? Just want to make sure that you guys get recognized.”

Silence settles. The squeaking from Younghoon's marker is faint but loud enough to capture your attention. Although his figure covers most of what’s written on the whiteboard, you catch sight of a few gamer tags—Ailurus and bae.

Before you can decipher the other words, the doors open. “Hi, guys!” Haknyeon enters the room with all smiles. “Hello Game Changers winners,” he bows his head, making you chuckle.

His teammates, Jacob and Juyeon, trail behind him, relaxed expressions resting on their faces. “Congrats on the win,” Jacob shakes hands with everyone on your team. “That one play on Ascent went crazy, by the way.” His praise is directed towards you, and you try to play it cool.

“Ah, it was nothing. Just got lucky.”

“If I was in your situation, I probably wouldn’t have secured that round,” Juyeon chimes in as he takes a seat beside his teammates. The three boys sit across from your team.

Haknyeon smacks Juyeon’s arm, laughing at his words. “Yeah! Remember that one round in Breeze?” Juyeon only rolls his eyes while his teammates recap the events for your team.

You don’t really interact with Haknyeon’s team (or Jacob’s team if you were going to follow formalities), just the occasional greetings and small talk if you were going to be honest. It’s not like you didn’t want to be friends with them; there aren't enough opportunities to bond when you all have different schedules, let alone priorities. But you did enjoy their team's presence, and every interaction with them is one you hope may bring your team closer to theirs.

Except for one player.

“Sorry, we’re late!” Hyunjae enters the room with an apologetic smile. “Someone decided to sleep in.”

“Not true! Hyunjae’s lying.”

The room starts to grow dimmer, almost as if life were sucked out of it. Only you seemed to see it, never the others. There he is—the only exception.

He’s dressed in an oversized graphic tee layered on top of a white long-sleeved shirt and a pair of black baggy jeans. His hair shows its soft curls, clearly indicating that he’s the one lying.

A playful pout rests on his lips as he tries to continue his defense. Yet, when he locks eyes with you, he holds back. A scowl now paints his face.

If you follow esports, then you would know who Kim Sunwoo is—an established pro player who switched from Overwatch to Valorant. At first, many people were confused by his choice, throwing away years invested into a different game. Yet, it seemed that he didn’t care about what others had to say as he signed with HYST a few months after he started playing Valorant.

Within that time frame, he was able to impress Younghoon and Sangyeon with his gameplay. After all, Valorant and Overwatch required different playstyles. It was easy for him to become big in the Valorant pro scene, as you would like to say, for he made use of his existing fame.

He’s adored by many people who follow the pro scene; audience and players alike. You, however, seemed to think differently.

You shift your gaze to Younghoon, silently hoping that the meeting will commence. As if he heard your thoughts, he says, “No worries. Go, take your seats.”

Unfortunately, Hyunjae opts to sit across from Eunchae, leaving one vacant seat across from you.

Sunwoo sits on the chair as a dejected sigh leaves him, causing you to roll your eyes while you keep your gaze away from him. All you need to do is get through the meeting and you won’t have to face him for a while.

“Thank you everyone for coming here today,” Younghoon starts as he faces all of you. The whiteboard behind him has now been flipped, and the gamer tags are now hidden. “Uh, before we get into the agenda for today’s meeting, let’s congratulate the winners of Game Changers!”

Applause erupts from everyone who didn’t participate in that competition, but your eyes don’t miss how slow the boy across you claps, almost as if he wasn’t impressed.

“Now, we can get to the point of today’s meeting.” Younghoon steps to the side, revealing the text written—VCT GAMEPLAN with irregular shapes surrounding it. “We all know that VCT is around the corner, a few months from now, which means we’ve got to start our preparations.”

“Normally, we would’ve gone straight to strategizing and having you guys,” your coach looks at the team across you, “practice, but Sangyeon and I have agreed on doing things differently this year.” He flips the board, revealing everyone’s gamer tags. “We’re changing the roster.”

Many players are caught off-guard by Younghoon’s announcement. It’s not usual for a roster change to take place, especially with only a few months left before qualifiers commence.

“We know that not everyone may want to participate in the upcoming VCT, and I’ve spent weeks trying to configure what’s the best roster to represent HYST.” Younghoon then pulls out a blue marker and starts to circle some names; CHUU, Darong, bae, nuguri, and… Ailurus? “These are my picks for VCT.”

A frown appears on your face, but before you can comment, Haknyeon beats you to it. “I don’t know if having Hyunjae and Sunwoo play together is smart.” All eyes are now on him. “I mean, no offense,” his eyes flicker to the two subjects, “I don’t know if Jiwoo and Y/N would be able to keep up, and that’s not a diss to them.”

“I agree,” Jacob chimes in. “Haknyeonie, Juyeon, and I can play with Sunwoo and Hyunjae as duelists because we know their playstyles well. We’ve played together for years. Y/N and Jiwoo would be playing with them for the first time.”

Younghoon bites the inside of his cheek, deep in thought as he considers what’s been said. “Thoughts?” He directs his question to the two people in question. The two players exchange glances, almost as if they were communicating.

“Yeah, I know Sunwoo and I can adjust our playstyle but it took more than half a year for Juyeon and Haknyeon to get used to our playstyle,” Hyunjae says as he scratches the back of his neck. “And if it helps, I’d prefer to sit this one out. You know, I have a lot of sponsorships lined up that I need to stream for also.”

Your coach sighs. “No worries. What about you, Sunwoo?”

“Wait, can I say something?” Jiwoo gathers the attention of everyone in the room. “I also want to opt out of VCT. I mean, I just played in Game Changers.” A guilty smile takes over her features.

Thankfully, Younghoon acknowledges where Jiwoo comes from. “Of course, I understand. After all, that’s why we're having this meeting.”

Before your coach can try to reconfigure the roster, Sangyeon stands up from his seat.

“Can I suggest another rotation?” Younghoon nods before handing him a red marker. Sangyeon starts to circle another list of gamer tags, ones he believes should be in the final line-up of players for VCT; it consists of bokku, bae, gyulz, Ppiya, and… Ailurus, again? Your coach frowns as he looks at the selection.

“I think Sunwoo should be benched.” Your eyebrows shoot up at Sangyeon’s words, not expecting those words considering the player’s reputation.“He’s made some rash plays recently, and you know that.” You glance at the boy who sits across from you only to see that his gaze is affixed to the ground.

Younghoon shakes his head, clearly in disbelief at the manager’s words. “Yes, but that’s only for a few matches. Trust me when I say that Sunwoo is strong as a duelist and an initiator.” His attempt to defend his mentee is weak against Sangyeon’s opinion.

“He plays for himself!”

Clearly, the two higher-ups have opposing views.

“Think about it; Eunchae and Sakura are great duelists, and anyone else on that team plays initiator.”

Although Sangyeon seems to believe his proposed line-up is the best one yet, your coach shakes his head. “Eunchae isn’t playing.” He glances at her before saying, “She told me beforehand.” All eyes are now on the teen who only shows an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I wanted to take a break from this year’s VCT to focus on my studies.”

Sangyeon scratches the back of his neck. “Well—”

“Hey,” Sakura cuts into the conversation. “Haven’t we considered that Y/N and Sunwoo might not want to play together?” She looks at you two with scrunched eyebrows, clearly confused by your coach’s proposal. “I mean, we all know their relationship, no?”

Your feud isn’t under the table. All of the players know about your distaste towards each other but they don’t know where it stems from.

“Yes, but their playstyles complement each other.” Everyone’s confused as to why Younghoon is persistent. “Out of all my mentees, I’ve worked with them the most, and I know exactly how they can work together.”

“Well, I want Y/N on that team.” As your manager says that, all the attention is now on you. You’re not sure why Sangyeon would say that. Uncomfortable with how you’ve become the topic of the conversation, you cannot help but sink into your seat.

“And I agree with you. But if we’re going to have Y/N play, I need Sunwoo on that team.” You lock eyes with Sunwoo briefly as your coach says that. “He’s my one-pick, and I know he’ll help the team out the most.” Sangyeon sighs, rethinking the roster once more. You shift your gaze to the ground, clearly unhappy being paired with the player across from you.

You weren’t happy that the two continued to discuss the final roster without asking you, but before you could speak up, someone beat you to it.

“Shouldn’t Y/N take a break?” Your gaze lands on the boy across from you, eyebrows now furrowed over his suggestion. “I mean, they did just come from winning Game Changers. We can have Juyeon take over.” When you spot a small smirk resting on his lips, you ball your fists.

Whatever game Sunwoo is playing, you don’t want any part of it. If anything, whatever he’s trying to insinuate has you clenching your teeth. And you’re about to retort—

“No,” Sangyeon says, speaking on your behalf. “Y/N’s a good leader and a team player. I trust Y/N the most out of all the people on the roster.”

Sunwoo raises his hands in defense. “It was only a suggestion.” But when he glances at you, you don’t miss the sinister smile on his face.

Not only was Sunwoo trying to bench you out of the competition but Sangyeon and Younghoon were too invested in their conversation, speaking on your behalf as if you were nothing but a tool for the organization. Without a second thought, you stand up from your seat. Everyone’s eyes are on you as you storm out of the room.

That’s the thing about being a pro player in the esports scene; no one seems to listen to you if you aren’t a man.

For once, silence settles amongst everyone. Your departure is a message, one that everyone failed to see earlier on.

A sigh leaves Sakura. “I know we’re all worried about VCT but let’s not forget to hear everyone out, okay?” She glances at the doors that are now shut closed, wondering where you may have gone. “You know Y/N. Just avoid speaking on their behalf and let them talk for themselves.”

“Yeah,” Eunchae huffs, “let’s give them time to cool down. We only wrapped up Game Changers a few weeks ago.”

As Younghoon crosses his arms, a sigh leaves him as he looks down to the floor. “Sorry, Sangyeon and I were too caught up with what we wanted.” He glances at his watch before shifting his gaze to the players who sit idly. “Let’s talk about this again once they come back.”

In the eye of a hurricane stands you, a witness to the chaos, wondering what course of action nature shall take upon you. Somehow, your screams are soundless—not a single soul minds the hurricane for as long as it doesn’t hit them.

You stand in front of the washroom mirror, taking your time to recollect your thoughts. The stress that comes from the upcoming VCT, the pressure to represent HYST once more, the likelihood of working with Kim Sunwoo for the first time—there’s nothing you can control.

The stars point you towards acceptance, perseverance.

It’s not that you were against representing HYST for the upcoming VCT events. If anything, you were grateful that Sangyeon and Younghoon trusted you to undertake such an important role.

Although you’ve competed in Game Changers, the audience it attracts is smaller in comparison to the ones your manager and coach want to see you in. All eyes will be on you as you compete to reach to Champions.

The weight that comes with playing in a worldwide esports event, one that most of the community is tuned into, rests on your shoulders—a coalition of anxiety from every round that plays out, migraines from reconfiguring your strategies, the comments of you playing just because you aren’t a man. Those reasons should be enough for you to decline the offer, to protect your peace, and to make more out of your streams.

But nothing can compare to bringing back home the fruit of your labor—the Champions Cup—the recognition that comes from competing, and the bond built amongst teammates. If you got to experience all that from Game Changers, you’re almost certain that VCT will bring experiences to be marked in your books.

But what do you know, right?

With a mind clearer after today’s event, you exit the washroom, still deciding whether you should compete or not. Yet, it’s as if the universe has plans to provoke you as you come face-to-face with the last person you want to see.

His eyes lock with yours and a snarl appears on his face. “What? I had to use the washroom.” Defensive, like always.

Before you can make your way back to the conference room, he grabs your arm, holding you back. You glare at Sunwoo, your eyes glancing at his hand on your arm, and he lets go.

He bites the inside of his cheek. “I know we don’t like each other.” Tell me about it. “But,” he sucks in a breath as he stares back at you. “I know we want to prove ourselves, so why don’t we just suck it up and work together?”

Anyone could believe that Sunwoo’s trying to play nice with you—he’s willing to make amends in hopes that there’s no bad blood between you two—but you could care less about what this man has to say.

“It’s not that easy,” you start. “You don’t understand what I want.” Unlike him, you know that proving yourself does nothing.

His frowns over your words. “What do you mean—”

“Sunwoo, you can easily say you want to play to prove yourself,” you cut him off. “I can’t say the same for me. It’s a privilege enough that I can even play in these events.” You jab your index finger against his chest, making him stagger backward.

That’s what makes you and Sunwoo different; while he chases praises from a few lucky plays, you’re left to deal with the backlash from just breathing.

If Sunwoo wants to retort, you don’t give him the chance to do so as you walk away from him. As you reach the doors, you take a deep breath in before swinging them open. The chatter is interrupted by your presence as you make your way back to your seat.

Sunwoo follows shortly, keeping his gaze on you as he takes his seat. You would’ve ignored the way he looks at you but the eye contact you two exchange amplifies what you told him then in the halls. So when an ominous grin appears on your face, the lousy bridge he tried to build towards you crumbles. After all, it was constructed on a poor attempt to save his career.

“Count me in.”

ROUND 2: “YOUR BIGGEST MISTAKE WAS THAT YOU PISSED ME OFF.”

With every day that passes, the weight of VCT rests heavier on your shoulders. Playing with a team you don’t compete with is not easy. Yet, you’re hopeful today—it’s all you have, after all.

As you enter the practice room, you are greeted by the chilly air that emits from the air conditioners. The practice room resembles an internet cafe; desks are lined up with monitors and keyboards while CPUs are placed under the tables.

You catch sight of Sakura and Haknyeon chatting away as they sit in front of their assigned computers. Jacob, however, is busy talking to Younghoon; you can only assume they’re talking about possible strategies.

Before you take a seat beside Haknyeon, you make sure to greet everyone. “And I couldn’t believe Juyeon just fell to the floor!” He exclaims which has Sakura laughing.

“What’d I miss?”

Haknyeon looks at you on the brink of tears before he retells the story. “Okay, because you know how Juyeon and I share a room?” You nod. “So, I told Juyeon to shut the lights off on his way to bed because I was ready to go to sleep. But somehow, he got lazy while walking so he had this genius idea to just jump to the bed.” At this point, your friend is laughing in between words, and the story has gone incomprehensible.

“And the next thing you know it, Haknyeon hears a sudden thump.”

You burst into laughter over the story. “You’re telling me he missed?!” The only answers you get are chortles from the two.

Preparations for VCT have fueled your anxiety for many reasons, possible losses and backlash to name a few, but Haknyeon and Sakura bring pockets of sunshine amidst the storm. If they weren’t here, you wouldn’t know how to deal with your worries.

“Sorry, I’m late!” Your mood shifts as your last teammate enters the room with an iced americano in his hand. You both lock eyes for a brief moment before you shift your gaze back to your friends, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Okay, hurry! Everyone, start fixing your setups,” Younghoon orders as he claps his hands, grabbing everyone’s attention.

You chose your seat in hopes that Jacob would sit beside you, making it easier for you both to discuss possible team strategies. Yet, the other in-game leader sits somewhere else, leaving Sunwoo to take the spot next to you. Your bubbly mood has turned sour.

“Anyway, today we will be having a practice match! So, what to expect is that…”

Younghoon’s words fall flat on your ears as your heartbeat fills your ears. As you try to fix your monitor and audio settings to fit your preferences, you hope that the anxiety will die down. Yet, you feel a pair of eyes stare a hole right into you—annoyance now accompanies your anxiety.

“Can you mind your own business and listen to Coach?” You raise the question, only loud enough for your annoying teammate to hear.

“I am paying attention.”

You scoff, “Oh, so you’ll listen now?” You rip your gaze away from the computer to glare at Sunwoo. “You didn’t listen to me last time.”

A few days ago, your team decided to scrimmage against the other members of the organization. It was a good way to practice before signing up for scrimmages against other teams participating.

Unfortunately for you, it was a match that solidified your dislike of the player. With every round, he found ways to get on your nerves, ignoring your comms and playing for himself to name a few. If you were going to be honest, you expected a bit more from Sunwoo—Sangyeon is right about his stance on the player.

Sunwoo shrugs, glancing at your coach who continues to explain today’s practice match. “I don’t know, your strats weren’t making sense last time. I trust Jacob more.”

You clench your fists as you close your eyes briefly in disbelief. “So, if it’s a man speaking, you’ll listen?” You shake your head in disbelief as you return your attention to the computer. “Jacob and I had the same plan, asshole.”

If Sunwoo wanted to defend himself, he’s not allowed to do so as Younghoon calls on both of your names. “Hey, are you listening?” The two of you nod profusely in a poor attempt to hide your conversation. “Okay then. For today’s scrimmage, you’ll be going against RUSH.”

There’s no way, right? “Sorry, did you say RUSH?” You earn a nod from him, and your world tilts on its axis. After how many years, it only took one scrimmage for you to reunite with your reasons behind why you stand in the pro scene today—Jeon Jungkook and Eric Sohn.

The three of you first met each other in university in a club full of people who liked to play video games. At first, you weren’t sure why you joined in the first place, dreading the possibility of dealing with men who would throw misogynistic comments towards you. Yet, the universe found a way to make sure you would enjoy your stay, gifting you two boys who became your best friends from university.

“Today is the perfect time to get to know your opponents, get a feel of what they do. I know that you guys have started playing together, trying to get a feel of what it’s like to play together, but I hope this scrimmage will build on it,” Younghoon says as your team quickly logs into their accounts on Discord.

Once you’ve logged in, you notice that Younghoon has sent you an invite to a Discord server. You accept it, greeted by the huge selection of teams participating, and you catch sight of RUSH in a voice channel. All of their gamer tags are recognizable, but two of them have stuck with you since your university days.

“You can all jump on the voice channel with them. Don’t forget to introduce yourselves.”

You’re the first to hop on a call and your teammates follow you shortly. Usually, you were the type to have someone lead the conversation, but to say you were excited to talk to your old friends would be an understatement. “Hi, everyone.”

“Oh my god, is that Y/N?” Jungkook asks, surprised by the sound of a familiar voice.

“Y/N?!” Eric’s microphone crackles over how loud he exclaims your name, and a grin rests on your lips over the reactions.

There they are. “I know, it’s been forever. I haven’t talked to you both since we graduated.”

The next thing you know, their faces appear on the screen; they don’t look too different from when you last saw them, but they’ve grown up. “Is it actually you?!” Jungkook asks. “I won’t believe it until I see you.”

A chuckle leaves your lips over your old friend’s words. “God, I’ll turn my cam on.” You click on the video icon, revealing your poor attempt to hold back your grin. “Happy now?”

“It’s been so long, what the fuck? I miss you! Congrats on your win!” Eric says. “Everyone, why don’t we turn on our cams?” Both his teammates and yours have turned their cameras on. “Let’s introduce ourselves.”

The introductions are quick. You learned the real names of Jungkook and Eric’s teammates; Choi Soobin, Jeon Wonwoo, and Lee Jeno. RUSH’s roster is a good selection of players. Your palms get sweaty as you hear your heartbeat in your ears—nothing could’ve prepared you for today’s scrimmage.

Before you can all agree to start the match, Sunwoo pops a question. “Sorry, how do you guys know each other?” You watch his expression through Discord, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

Jungkook chuckles before saying, “We went to uni together, met in this club which we all left after our first year.” All he gets is a hum from your teammate, but you don’t miss the way Sunwoo looks off into nowhere, almost as if he’s irritated—you wonder why his mood shifted. “Anyway, are we ready to have our match?” You all hum in agreement before turning your cameras off.

“Alright, good luck and have fun!”

The worst Valorant matches are the ones that reach overtime. It’s 12 to 13 on Icebox in RUSH’s favor, and your team is on the brink of losing—only one win is needed and your opponent will leave victorious.

“I think we should go through mid and then make our way through A-site.”

You shake your head in disapproval. “No, Jacob, I think we should enter a site together instead. It’s risky to pass through mid since,” you glance at the leaderboard to check how many credits Jungkook has, “I have a strong feeling someone will use an operator.”

Although Jacob seems to consider your suggestion, a groan leaves Sunwoo. “Wouldn’t it be better to split up?”

“No, we’re not strong enough to fight our own battles. We need to play together, fight together.” You would like to think that your team can handle isolated battles, but you guys were weak against RUSH. Perhaps they had good reflexes or better game sense.

As the timer starts to count down, Jacob orders, “Okay, we’ll go with Y/N’s plan. The most important thing is that we don’t pick fights on our own and plant the spike.”

The round commences, and you all make your way into your positions; Sakura and Jacob slowly make their way through A-main while you go up to the belt. Haknyeon carefully sets up his trip wires and camera before joining you.

“I’m going to dart first.” Once you get your recon bolt out, you shoot it far enough to land on the wall; it catches the presence of Soobin and Wonwoo. The toxic screen goes up, perfectly concealing the site.

“Go!”

It happens all too quickly, shots fired and damage dealt and received. Before you know it, your team is dead—except for one who didn’t seem to listen to your plans.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” you say as you spectate Sunwoo, watching that he’s making his way back to where you guys died, leaving mid. There are only two players that he needs to fight, Jungkook on Jett and Eric on Deadlock. You know the round is tense, and the last thing you want to do is aggravate him.

Thankfully, Sunwoo plants the spike, but he situates himself in a spot that wouldn’t allow him to reposition quickly. A pair of footsteps go up the stairs, signaling that someone is making their way to heaven.

For a moment, he keeps his gaze affixed to screens, but he looks back to A-main, expecting a flank, and he’s right; Eric comes into his vision.

You expect Sunwoo to win the fight, but when his body falls to the ground, a sigh leaves you. The mood has plummeted, sinking into murky waters of frustration, disappointment. “Fuck, sorry,” Sunwoo apologizes as he covers his mouth in frustration.

“It’s okay, you tried,” Jacob attempts to console his teammate. “Good work, everyone.”

The spike gets defused; HYST has lost against RUSH.

“Come on, let’s go hop on a call with them again.”

With that, your team follows Jacob’s orders. “Tight match everyone, but a fun one!” Wonwoo says.

“Yeah, thanks for the game,” Sakura responds, trying to stay in high spirits.

“Well, we have to get going. We have another scrimmage,” Eric starts. “Y/N, send me your number through DMs. Let’s hang with Jungkook.”

You hum, a small smile resting on your lips. “Sure, see you guys in Challengers.” With that, everyone leaves the voice channel.

While RUSH is probably celebrating their win, HYST is in low spirits. It’s a practice match, sure, but still a match nevertheless.

“Good work, everyone,” Younghoon says in an attempt to cheer everyone up. “I really liked the energy I saw from you guys. You all put up a good fight and fought together.”

Although everyone seems to hum in agreement with your coach, you don’t join in. “Why did you stray off?” You redirect your gaze to the boy beside you, only earning a frown. “Didn’t we agree to play together?”

He rolls his eyes at you. “Yeah, but—”

“But what, Sunwoo? What could’ve been the reason for you to not enter with us and not follow the game plan?” You’re frustrated over everything; the stress of VCT, your loss against RUSH, your teammate who never listens to you.

“Hey, knock it off!” Younghoon gets in between you two. “Now is not the time to be fighting.” You and Sunwoo only glare at each other. “Cannot believe I’m dealing with a bunch of 5-year-olds,” he mutters under his breath.

“Jacob and Sakura, nice work in holding B-site, by the way. Haknyeon, you also did well holding A-site.” Then, your coach glances between you two. “Now, we still need to work on your coordination and teamwork.” It’s a statement for your whole team, but it feels as if it were directed at you and Sunwoo. You wish you sat out of VCT.

“You can go now.”

With that, everyone gets ready to exit the practice room. Your coach is the first one out. You think you’re at fault for causing stress on him but if only Sunwoo would work with you—listen, for the matter—then maybe you two wouldn’t be in this mishap.

“Hey, you two.” You look at Jacob who calls on you and Sunwoo. “Can you stay behind for a bit?” You glance at Haknyeon and Sakura who observe the interaction briefly. As you both nod, your other teammates have taken their leave.

Now, you stand in front of him with your teammate beside you. A sigh leaves him as he rubs his jaw while a frown rests on his face. You only see Jacob like this when he’s focused on his games, but never when it comes to dealing with issues like what your team (or you and Sunwoo, really) has.

“I know you two don’t like each other, and I still don’t know why.” You and Sunwoo exchange glances before ignoring each other once more. “But you understand that you both signed up for VCT, right? That means you will be playing many matches together.”

You’re aware that agreeing to represent HYST means having to work with Sunwoo. Your reasons for participating are enough to convince you that you handle all the upcoming matches with Sunwoo—all adversities will be dealt with. Yet, you couldn’t speak for your teammate.

“So, I’m asking that you guys focus on working together. I’m not asking you to make up or anything but to still be professional around each other. We still have to win the qualifiers, so no funny business, okay?”

Jacob was right. Your dispute is getting in the way of team dynamics, holding HYST back, and you didn’t want to inconvenience your team any further. With that, you nod, begrudgingly accepting Jacob’s request. You can spot Sunwoo nodding along with you in the corner of your eye.

“Okay, thanks. You can both go now.”

When you and Sunwoo leave the practice room, not a single word is exchanged.

ROUND 3: “DON’T LOOK SO SMUG, SUNWOO!”

Over the last months, you and your team have spent every waking hour on Valorant—practice, practice, practice, until you all felt satisfied.

To say you were sick of the game is an understatement, but some of your teammates try to make every minute enjoyable; Haknyeon would goof off some rounds and knife opponents from behind, Jacob would make comments that you never would’ve imagined leaving his mouth, and Sakura would ask questions about everyone before every round. You take your part in lifting the spirits and making these matches less monotonous by reading stories from the r/AmITheAsshole subreddit.

As for your relationship with Sunwoo, you’ve tried to keep it professional. During matches and strategizing phases, you would communicate with each other, exchanging ideas of how to win these games. Outside of those periods, however, were spent ignoring each other’s existence.

Thankfully, all those months of practicing didn’t go to waste—your team went against multiple organizations during Qualifiers, and now you’re on the last leg of the event. Only one more win is needed and your team makes it to Challengers.

Now, your team is in the practice room, head-to-head against another team. It’s 11 to 12 in your team’s favor on Ascent. It’s absurd that your opponents made a comeback from 3-9, but you’ll blame it on the superstition.

“Let’s play default. Their team tends to push out anyway,” Jacob orders before he takes a sip of water. “I’ll play by tiles while Sakura and Haknyeonie can go to A-site. Sunwoo and Y/N, play near B-site. Just make sure to not get caught by their Sova’s recon dart.” Everyone on your team agrees with Jacob’s plan.

The round commences. Just like what Jacob called out, a recon dart is thrown, but it doesn’t catch sight of you and Sunwoo. “Sova’s by B-site,” Sunwoo tells the team.

“I hear footsteps by tree,” Sakura starts, and Jacob takes it as his sign to smoke the cubby off. Before you know it, he takes a peek at mid and kills off the enemy team’s Gekko. Sakura flashes A-site before double-swinging with Haknyeon. “There are three players by A-site! Go to B-site!”

You and Sunwoo start to make your way through B-site. You walk in front of him, trying to smoke off hall and market. It should’ve occurred to you how weird it is that Sunwoo trails behind you, but it doesn’t, and you choose to enter the site.

The next thing you know, your body flops to the ground, and you let out a groan. As you spectate Sunwoo, he successfully trades you. “Spike down B,” the announcer voices out. Now, it’s a three versus one battle.

“Astra’s with me! Go plant,” Haknyeon calls out, and Sunwoo listens. He plants the spike like a breeze and situates himself in the boathouse.

Jacob tucks himself by mid, waiting for Astra to pass through spawn. “I can catch Astra off-guard while you try to pinch them,” he tells Haknyeon. Within a few seconds, he successfully lands his shots and kills Astra, securing HYST a win—your team will be participating in Challengers.

Everyone cheers, getting off their seats and huddling into a group hug. “Holy shit, Jacob! That was such a good 3K!” Haknyeon cheers as he’s overfilled with joy.

Your teammate tries to shrug off the compliments. “We all did good.”

A pair of arms wrap around you and Jacob. “That was an amazing play!” Younghoon is thrilled by today’s matches. “WE’RE GOING TO CHALLENGERS!”

It’s a dream come true; you’ll be competing on stage in front of a wider audience against teams who are more capable than you—who have more experience than you—but the journey has only started. You wonder what the upcoming months will have in store for you and your team—what will time do for you and Sunwoo?

You’re the first to break up from the hug, everyone else following along. “I’m going to call Sangyeon over,” your coach announces before making his way out of the practice room.

Then, Haknyeon pulls out his phone. “Wait, the guys are blowing up our group chat. I’ll just call them.”

Sunwoo is about to follow his teammates, but you grab hold of his forearm as you hold him back, and he frowns at you. “I need to talk to Sunwoo,” you smile at the other guys who only glance at each other, confused by your actions. Yet, they let the matter go, letting you deal with your business with him.

Sakura grabs your shoulder. “I’m going to call the team. Anything you want me to tell them?”

“I’ll tell them myself, it’s okay. You can go.”

With that, it was only you and your teammate.

You let go of his arm and a frown replaces the grin you once showed. “What was that during the last round?” As Sunwoo scrunches his eyebrows further, you groan. “You literally baited me.”

An exasperated sigh leaves him. “God, it’s not that serious.”

“Sunwoo, you’re playing duelist. You’re supposed to be entering sites for the team.”

“And I do!” He glares at you, annoyed by your complaints. “We still won. Can’t you just be happy that we made it to Challengers?”

That’s the thing you hate about playing with Sunwoo; if the outcome is good, he’ll turn a blind eye to his mistakes. How does he improve as a player if he doesn’t acknowledge his faults?

He’s about to turn away from you—make his way to his teammates and celebrate today’s win—but you grab his hand and pull him close to you. The sudden action almost has him toppling over you, and thankfully, his reflexes are quick enough to make sure you both don’t fall.

But the distance between you two is smaller, his eyes wide while yours remain stern. He holds his breath while yours grazes his skin.

You’ve never seen him this way—compliant, obedient—and it’s a sight to behold, one you’d like to keep for yourself. If only he were like this to you, then maybe you wouldn’t—no, snap out of it.

“Sunwoo.” He gulps at the way you call his name. “I’m your controller, I’m supposed to stay alive longer to support you.” You hold his gaze. “Try to keep this behavior up during the rest of VCT, I dare you.”

There’s malice laced in your tone, an attempt to make him cower—obey—over your threat, and you know your job is successful when Sunwoo doesn’t try to retort. He has every opportunity to retort—rile you up like all other times—and yet, he remains silent.

With that, you let go of his hand, stepping away to give you both room to breathe. Patches of warmth litter all over your skin, from your neck to your chest. To have Sunwoo look at you like that has—

“Guys!” Younghoon comes back rushing into the room with Sangyeon trailing behind him. You catch sight of the smile that rests on your manager’s face, clearly proud of your team. “Let’s look at the list of the teams who made it to Challengers.”

Your coach fiddles with the television remote and opens up the stream. Just in time, you’re able to look through the teams who made it to the next event. As you spot HYST in a sea of esteemed teams, fulfillment bubbles within you.

Yet, you know the battle doesn’t end here. RUSH makes the cut—will your team remain victorious or will it meet its demise?

ROUND 4: “YOU’RE HERE TO TAKE MY KILLS, SUNWOO? LET’S MAKE IT A COMPETITION.”

You were lying when you said you were sick of Valorant. There were other games you could be playing, Minecraft, Overwatch, and Stardew Valley to name a few. Yet, here you are, playing your favorite (read: most hated) game for today’s stream.

“I won’t lie, I’m not sure why I’m playing this game on stream,” you chuckle. “Like, I could be playing something else to save my mental health.” The comments keep coming as you ramble, trying to kill time.

keybladetwo: CONGRATS IN PLAYOFFS!!! GOODLUCK IN CHALLENGERS orangecheeko: HYST TAKEOVER 🔥🔥🔥 hungrydinosaur: the 3k bae did last round was INSANE

A flood of compliments comes your way, making you smile. “Awe. Thanks, everyone! I still can’t believe I’ll be playing for Challengers, and then there’ll be Masters and Champions.”

reingoaway: how was it like playing with the others :O noxturnal: U and Jacob on the same team must be crazy! Aren’t u both IGLs

A hum leaves you as you think over your answers. “It’s fun for the most part,” you admit. “I mean, it took us a while to get used to each other’s playstyles, but I’d like to think that the practice paid off.”

You fiddle around with your Valorant collection, changing skins on some firearms. “I’d like to think Jacob and I do pretty well in strategizing in the middle of matches. Sure, we have our fair share of contrasting opinions but we always consider each other’s ideas.”

Although the time you spend practicing with your team can be tiresome, your teammates try to make every round enjoyable. It’s thanks to them that you’re able to deal with the weight of VCT for the most part. There is burnout that comes from playing the same game at a pro level—at least you have most of your teammates to thank for the most part.

tagmeup: Will you play with nuguri? ailguriluver: YEAA u guys go crazy together ashfallen: nuguri & ailurus stream 🙏

You would’ve ignored it as you used to with all other streams, but your chat seems to flood the same question; there’s no escape even in the safety of your own channel. “Uh,” you scratch the back of your neck, “I didn’t really plan to stream with nuguri.”

nugunuguwho: He’s on stream right now!

“He is?” You bite the inside of your cheek as you type out his username on Twitch. His profile shows up, showing that he’s live, and you adjust your stream so that it shows your browser. Now, your audience can see that you’ve searched him up.

Once you click his stream, you are greeted with the words “DEFEAT” flashing on the screen. “Aish, fuck this game!” On the top left corner of the screen is your teammate, all dressed in a gray hoodie with hair messier than usual, and frames resting on the bridge of his nose. He leans back on his chair, tonguing the inside of his cheek out of frustration from losing a match.

The screen shifts to the match summary, showing that he’s currently 00RR in Ascendant 3. “Man, you would think that people in these ranks would at least understand to comm!” He then showcases his match history and—holy shit, it’s a red carpet. “Guys, it’s not looking good.”

You hide your smile behind the back of your hand. Although you make comments about how terrible of a player Sunwoo is, you would’ve never imagined him to be on such a horrendous losing streak.

(At the same time, it could be the fault of his teammates, but you weren’t going to give him that satisfaction. He’s an awful player, point blank.)

“Ailurus is on my stream?” You are snapped out of your thoughts as he mentions your gamer tag. “How do you know?” He scrunches his eyebrows as he reads the chat. “They’re streaming?”

You rush to close the window and frown at the camera. “I can’t believe you guys sold me out!” As you shake your head, you shift your stream back to the game. “I was trying to spy on him! Anyway, I’m going to queue up because I cannot have Sunwoo ruining my win streak.”

You’re about to queue into a game, hoping to end the discussion, but your eyes catch sight of a familiar name and you halt your movements.

nuguri: r u down to play?

It’s an internal battle—should you pretend you didn’t see Sunwoo’s message or should you fake your relationship with him?

Time ticks. The more you contemplate, the more you realize that you can’t play off that you saw his message in a sea of unfamiliar usernames. You’ve dug up your hole—there’s no turning back now.

“Okay, add my alt account.” Not a single mention of his name, and yet, your audience knows exactly who you’re talking to. The chat is filled with messages of excitement.

A friend request has been sent to you. “Is “sawako’s bf” your fucking alt?” Your gaze shifts to the chat, waiting for a message from Sunwoo.

nuguri: check discord

You roll your eyes before accepting his request on Valorant before opening up Discord. Another friend request has come in, and—is that a Smiski as his display picture? Your mouth parts open as you accept his request. Before you can shoot him a message, he calls you, and you don’t think twice before picking it up.

“I didn’t know you liked Smiskis,” you admit, surprised by the sight of the figurine. The sight of your profile picture, a Smiski from a different series, beside his photo is humorous—who would’ve thought that you two would match? “I didn’t even know you had another Discord account.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrug. “I mean, you just don’t look like the type you know? You reek of “loser e-boy that can’t do shit” energy.” As you hear him gasp, you chuckle.

Perhaps it helped to interact with Sunwoo in front of an audience. You can say diss him if you wanted, boiling it down to banter, and no one would question it.

“First off, I have a Discord account for work and another one for just personal use. And second, I am not a fuckass e-boy.” His defensive energy has you rolling your eyes. “Hey, I see you rolling your eyes!”

“The fuck? Get out of my stream,” you say as you glance at the camera. As you go back to Valorant, you see that you’re invited to Sunwoo’s party. Once you accept the invite, Sunwoo queues you both up for a Ranked match. “If we lose, I’m blaming it on you.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault that I lost all my matches today.”

You bite on the inside of your cheek, holding back your laughter just in case he’s still watching your stream. “Okay, whatever you say. I know you only peaked Immortal 1.”

“Immortal 1 is a good rank! What are you trying to say?” A chuckle leaves him as he says those words, clearly knowing that he’s unfortunately not like you who is currently ranked at Immortal 2.

“I think you just want me to boost you.”

“Match found,” the announcer voices out. You are greeted by the opening screen of Sunset.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m down on my luck that I need someone to boost me.” Sarcasm is evident in his tone, and you can’t help but laugh. The screen then shifts to agent select. “What’s good, everyone?” A bad attempt at deep voice leaves Sunwoo as he talks to a team full of strangers.

You’re thrown back by the sudden tone shift, causing a giggle to leave you. “What the fuck was that?!”

“Go! Talk to the team.” You shake your head as if he can see you. (Maybe he’s still watching you, after all.) He hovers over Reyna before telling you, “It won’t hurt.”

The thing about you is that you would never talk to a team full of strangers, but you don’t think twice when you say, “I’m good,” before hovering over Omen.

“There we go!” He exclaims in your call. You try to hold back your grin.

Unfortunately, the moment doesn’t last long. “Didn’t you mean to hover over Sage?” A stranger on your team asks.

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“Because you’re a woman.”

You should’ve seen this coming—there’s a reason why you don’t like to speak in this game.

“Just because I’m born a woman doesn’t mean I need to play that agent. I can play Skye if we need a healer,” you suggest, trying to keep your cool over what the stranger says.

“Nah, Skye might be too complex for you.”

You’re thinking if you should just lock in on Omen or retort, but both choices lead to an outcome where they’ll constantly be on your ass. Before you can make a decision, however, someone speaks.

“Hey, let them play whoever they want to play. You can play Sage if you really want,” Sunwoo cuts into the conversation, hoping to diffuse the situation. But when a chuckle leaves the stranger, you know it’s far from reaching that.

“Ah, I see how it is. How’s the head?”

You’ve officially reached your limit, and it seems Sunwoo has reached his as well. “This shit isn’t worth it,” Sunwoo ends the conversation with that. Before you know it, you’re back in the lobby, alone. “Sorry, I quit the game. Just give me a second to boot it up.”

As you hear those words, warmth surges within you. You don’t like your teammate at all and he’s never given you any reason to treat him with kindness, but just this one action is enough to make you see him in a different light—is he rotten to the core or have you been blinded this whole time?

Before you know it, he requests to join your party, and you accept the invite. When your eyes catch sight that he’s deranked to Ascendant 2, it hits you that he lost some RR just to avoid playing with the player who was giving you a hard time.

(Would it be bad to hope he did it for you?)

You hop in the queue to find another match.

It’s quiet for a moment; the mood has been ruined by some stranger on Valorant. Yet, Sunwoo seems to have something under his sleeve, a way to lift your spirit. “What if we pick each other’s agents?”

“This is a ranked match. You know that, right?”

Sunwoo lets out a groan. “I know that! But think about how fun it would be! We can play each other’s mains!”

“Do you really want to play Omen or Sova?” The screen then shows you’ll be playing on Pearl. “I thought you wanted to win some games.”

“Hey, I can definitely play those agents!” You roll your eyes over his words, clearly not believing him. “Let’s make it a competition. Whoever gets placed on top of the leaderboard wins, but you play Raze while I play Omen.”

A hum leaves you as you contemplate his proposal. “What’s the prize?”

“Well,” Sunwoo pauses, thinking over what can be done. “What if the winner gets their wish granted by the loser?”

“A wish? What type of wish?”

“Well, that’s for us to determine in our own time.”

You should’ve said no—why would you agree to such a bet with the one guy you can’t stand being in a room with? But the problem is that your pride is on the line, and you wanted to prove to Sunwoo that you could do his job better as a duelist.

So, you don’t think twice when you say, “Ah, fuck it. Let’s do it.”

You should’ve played Raze earlier on in your esports career. The match passes you like a breeze, entering and clearing sites and shots landing on your opponents every round. You don’t remember having this much fun playing Raze for the first time.

But somehow, the universe didn’t listen to your wishes—Sunwoo sits on the top of the leaderboard while you’re under him.

“Fuck! I only needed one assist and I would’ve beaten you.” As you complain, your teammate laughs.

“Ah, I wonder what I should have you do for me.”

You roll your eyes before looking at the time. “God, it’s that late already? I think I’m gonna end the stream already.”

“Yeah, me too. I’ll be back.” Before you know it, he deafens himself on Discord.

A sigh leaves you before you briefly look through the chat. “Sorry guys, I’m gonna end it early. I still need to pack my suitcase for Challengers next week.” There’s a mix of comments, ones that beg you to stay while others that thank you for today’s stream. “I’ll try to stream again before I leave but no promises. Bye, everyone! Hope you enjoy the rest of your days!”

With that, you end the stream. Another good stream out of you despite how short it was.

The most surprising thing to come out of this stream is that you were enjoying your time with Sunwoo. Whether it may be from the later hours of the day or just a front that he was putting up for the audience, you didn’t want to think too much of it. You’ll accept it for what it is now.

As you quit out of some of your applications, you look back at Discord to see that he’s back.

For a moment, it’s quiet. There’s an internal struggle within you—should you thank him for what he said earlier or not?

You didn’t want to call attention to the issue anymore. Unfortunately, you’ve had your fair share of experiences with misogyny throughout your life, and it pained you to say that this wasn’t the worst thing you’ve heard.

But he beats you to it, almost as if he was bothered by the silence, and says, “I’ll think about the wish for a bit, just want to think of my options.”

A groan rips out of you. “Don’t make me do anything stupid, please.”

He hums for a moment, almost as if he was considering your request, but you know who he is. “No guarantee! I’ll see you soon.”

Before you can retort, he ends the call. You stare blankly at your screen. If you thought Sunwoo was okay, you were absolutely wrong. He’s still a shithead.

But when you get in bed, you stare at the ceiling for a moment, and you can’t wipe off the grin that rests on your lips.

God, you need to sleep.

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