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gyorouis · 2 days ago

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── ✦ blue back into me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that’s when you realized you were lost.

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

“are you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“just alright?” you teased.

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

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

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

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

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

it worked.

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

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

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

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

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

and then there were the sleepovers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

then it happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but none of this was ever spoken aloud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you didn’t know what to say.

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

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

your heart started to beat faster.

what was this? what had changed?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“but?” he prompted, his voice gentle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

finally, yeonjun broke the silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and that was all you really needed.

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

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

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

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

he laughed softly. “and you’re mine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yeah, we do.”

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

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

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

you’d agreed instantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

yeonjun: only if you swear you’ll come.

you: i swear.

yeonjun: alright, i love you!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you waved frantically, hoping he’d see you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“go,” you said, laughing softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“a plan?” you asked, raising a brow.

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

you blinked at him, surprised. “together?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“but i still have—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

a smile tugged at your lips as you texted back.

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

a few seconds later, your phone buzzed again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and then the rainy days.

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

but then there was yeonjun.

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

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

yeonjun: stay put. i’m on my way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and then, he kissed you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and in that moment, everything felt perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

three hours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and then it was just you and yeonjun.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but the gnawing doubt in your chest refused to quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but reality had other plans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

later turned out to be hours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yeonjun,” you said, your voice trembling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you stayed still, your heart aching with every word.

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

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

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

he sniffed, the sound muffled but unmistakable.

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

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

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

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

but it wasn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“but we’re already lost, yeonjun,” you said, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them. “we’re already lost. and i don’t know how to find my way back to you. i don’t even know if i can anymore.”

his eyes widened in shock, his lips parting as if he was about to say something, but no words came. instead, he just stood there, the rain soaking through his clothes, his face pale and lost. and for a moment, you both just stood there, drowning in the silence, unable to find a way back to each other.

the apartment was eerily silent, the kind of silence that made your chest ache. the hum of the refrigerator was the only sound that kept the emptiness from swallowing you whole. you stood in the doorway, dripping wet, your clothes clinging to your skin, the cold biting into you like a punishment. you didn’t know why you came back here—maybe it was muscle memory, or maybe it was that small, pathetic part of you that still believed he’d come back.

you curled up on the couch, your body trembling as exhaustion seeped into your bones. your eyes stung, but no tears came. you’d cried too much already, screamed into the rain until your throat was raw. now, all that was left was the heavy weight in your chest, pressing down, suffocating. you closed your eyes, willing yourself to forget, to sleep, but the ache refused to leave.

yeonjun came home that night. it was late, far later than he should have been out, but that was who he had become—always running, always avoiding the things that mattered. he stepped inside, the click of the door barely audible in the suffocating stillness. his head hung low, his steps hesitant, like he already knew what awaited him.

and then he saw you.

you were still in the same clothes you’d worn in the rain, your body curled into the corner of the couch like you were trying to disappear. your hair was a damp mess, your face pale and tired even in sleep. his breath hitched, and for the first time in what felt like years, he broke.

tears spilled down his face before he could stop them, hot and relentless. his knees buckled, and he sank to the floor beside you, his hands trembling as they hovered over you, unsure if he even had the right to touch you anymore.

you had waited.

he didn’t deserve this. he didn’t deserve you.

“i’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice barely a whisper, broken and raw. “god, i’m so sorry.”

his fingers brushed against your cheek, pushing damp strands of hair away from your face. you stirred but didn’t wake, your breathing soft and steady. he wished he could freeze this moment, hold onto it forever, because he knew it was slipping through his fingers like sand.

he gathered you into his arms, cradling you as if you might shatter. you felt so small, so fragile, and it killed him to think he had been the one to make you this way. he carried you to the bathroom, his steps careful and deliberate, like he was afraid the weight of his guilt might crush you.

he ran the bath, the water warm and soothing, and gently began to clean the remnants of the storm from your skin. his hands moved with a tenderness that made his chest ache, his mind replaying memories he hadn’t dared to touch in so long—the first time he’d held your hand.

he remembered the way you’d laughed at his stupid jokes in high school, the way your eyes sparkled with excitement when you talked about your future. he remembered how you used to hold his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, how you’d believed in him even when he couldn’t believe in himself. somewhere along the way, he had lost that version of himself, and in doing so, he had lost you too.

and now, here you were, and he didn’t know how to fix what he’d broken.

he dressed you in clean clothes, his hands careful as if you were made of glass. he tucked you into bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin, and sat beside you, his gaze fixed on your face.

the moonlight spilled through the window, casting a pale glow over the room. it illuminated the tear tracks on his face, the hollow look in his eyes. he sat there for hours, his thoughts a storm he couldn’t quiet.

he thought about the person he had become—the way college and the weight of adulthood had twisted him into someone unrecognizable. he thought about how he had pushed you away, how he had let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers.

and he realized, with a clarity that cut deeper than any pain he’d ever felt, that he couldn’t keep doing this.

he couldn’t keep dragging you down with him.

you deserved better.

you deserved someone who could love you the way you deserved to be loved—freely, fully, without the weight of their own broken pieces. and he wasn’t that person, not anymore.

he sat there until the first rays of sunlight crept through the window, painting the room in soft hues of gold. and then, with a heavy heart, he stood, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“i love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “and i’m so sorry that wasn’t enough.”

by morning, the bed beside you was empty. the hollow ache in your chest returned as you reached out instinctively, only to feel the cold, unwelcoming sheets beneath your fingertips. the room felt colder than it should have, the silence pressing against you like a second skin.

you lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince yourself that he was still here, that maybe he’d just stepped out for a moment. but deep down, you already knew. the absence was too loud, too final.

you stumbled out of the room, your legs heavy and unsteady, your heart pounding with a mixture of dread and disbelief. the faint smell of breakfast wafted through the air, a cruel reminder of normalcy. your feet carried you to the kitchen, where soobin stood at the stove, his back to you.

he glanced over his shoulder when he heard you enter, his expression softening with something that felt like pity, and it made your stomach churn. “yeonjun already left,” he said quietly, his voice gentle, as if trying not to shatter you.

your heart sank, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “to where?” you asked, your voice small, barely audible.

“he said he’s going home for a while,” soobin replied, turning back to the pan in front of him. his tone was calm, but there was an edge of frustration beneath it, like he didn’t fully understand yeonjun’s decision either.

“what about college?” you pressed, the desperation in your voice growing louder, more tangible.

soobin hesitated for a moment before shrugging, his shoulders rising and falling in a gesture that felt like resignation. “he didn’t say anything about it.”

you stood there, frozen, the weight of yeonjun’s absence pressing down on you like a physical force. your chest felt tight, your breaths shallow, and for a moment, you thought you might collapse under the weight of it all.

without another word, you turned and walked back to the bedroom, your footsteps heavy, your shoulders slumped in defeat. the door clicked softly behind you, and you sank onto the edge of the bed, your hands gripping the blanket as if it could somehow ground you.

your gaze wandered aimlessly, and that’s when you saw it—a folded piece of paper resting on his bedside table, almost as if it had been left there deliberately. your heart skipped a beat, a flicker of hope igniting in your chest despite everything.

with trembling hands, you reached for the note, your fingers brushing against the edges of the paper as you unfolded it slowly, as if you were afraid the words inside might break you.

the handwriting was unmistakably his—messy and rushed, the ink smudged in places, as if he’d been in a hurry or had second-guessed himself while writing. your eyes scanned the first few lines, and your heart clenched painfully.

my love,

i don’t even know where to begin. writing this feels like the hardest thing i’ve ever had to do, but i owe you the truth, even if it’s long overdue.

i’ve been failing—not just myself, but you. i see it in your eyes, in the way your smile doesn’t reach them anymore. and i hate myself for being the reason why.

do you remember when we were in high school? when everything felt so simple, and all i wanted was to make you laugh? back then, i thought i could be someone worthy of you. but somewhere along the way, i lost that part of me. the weight of expectations, the pressure of being enough—it’s crushed me, and i let it pull us both under.

i’ve been selfish, holding onto you when i knew i was hurting you. you deserved someone who could stand by you, someone who could be your anchor, and instead, i became the storm.

i’m sorry. for all the times i wasn’t there when you needed me. for the nights you cried yourself to sleep while i was too lost in my own struggles to notice. for losing sight of the person i wanted to be for you.

i don’t know how to fix this, but i know i need to start with myself. i need to figure out who i am, to rebuild the pieces of me that have fallen apart. and i can’t do that while dragging you down with me.

so i’m leaving—for now. i don’t know how long it’ll take, but i promise i’ll come back when i’m ready. when i can be someone you deserve, someone who can stand beside you without making you carry my burdens.

if you’ll still have me when that time comes, i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. but if you’ve moved on, if you’ve found the happiness i couldn’t give you, i’ll understand. all i want is for you to be happy, even if it’s not with me.

i love you, more than words can say. and i’m sorry that my love wasn’t enough to keep us whole.

forever yours,

yeonjun

the letter slipped from your trembling hands, fluttering to the floor like the weight of your heart. you sat there, staring at the words, letting them carve deep into the fragile spaces of your soul. his voice lingered in your mind, echoing in the quiet of the apartment, every word a wound, every line a bittersweet caress.

you should’ve felt angry. you should’ve screamed, cried, broken something. but all you could do was sit there, the emptiness swallowing you whole. you traced the memory of his voice in your head, the way he used to call your name like it was something sacred.

soobin knocked lightly on the doorframe, pulling you out of the spiral. “are you okay?” his voice was soft, cautious, like he was afraid you might shatter.

you nodded weakly, though your chest ached with the weight of a thousand unspoken words. “i just... i need a moment.”

he hesitated but nodded, leaving you alone with the silence.

hours passed, or maybe just minutes—you couldn’t tell anymore. eventually, you stood, pulling on a jacket before grabbing the letter and folding it carefully, tucking it into your pocket like it was the last piece of him you had.

the air outside was cold, biting at your skin as you walked aimlessly. you ended up at the park you used to visit together, the one where he’d pull you onto the swings and push you higher until you screamed at him to stop, laughing through the fear.

you sat on one of the swings, gripping the cold metal chains. the wind whispered through the trees, carrying fragments of memories you couldn’t hold onto anymore.

for the first time, you let yourself cry. not the quiet tears you’d hidden from him late at night, but the kind of sobs that shook your whole body, the kind that left you gasping for air. you cried for the boy who had once been your world, for the man he had become, for the pieces of yourself you had lost in loving him.

when the tears finally stopped, you looked up at the sky, the stars shimmering faintly through the clouds. you took a deep breath, feeling the cold air fill your lungs, and for the first time in a long time, it felt like you could breathe again.

you pulled the letter from your pocket, smoothing the creases with gentle fingers. you read it once more, the words less sharp now, softened by the tears that blurred your vision.

he wasn’t coming back—not yet, and maybe not ever. but you couldn’t let your life remain frozen in this moment, in this grief.

you stood from the swing, the letter still clutched in your hand, and walked away from the park. each step felt lighter than the last, as if you were shedding the weight of what could’ve been.

you didn’t know what the future held, but for now, you had yourself. and that was enough.

gyo's note: hi, loves! it’s been a while since i’ve written something like this, and honestly, it feels so personal, at least for me, because i had experienced a lot like them, where i eventually lost him in the process, and i had to actually stop writing from time to time because it gets the better of my emotion (literally cried writing this piece). this story came to me during one of those late-night overthinking sessions (you know the ones). thank you for reading and for always supporting me—it means the world. i’m also working on finishing alumni homecoming kai, and planning on posting my first series for beomgyu! but will probably stick to posting some of my pending drafts i’m not sure, but stay tuned for those! if you made it to this part, thank you so much! you will be loved. xoxo

96 notes · View notes

theamarischapter · 16 hours ago

Text

He's Not My Boyfriend!

CHAPTER 01; funny story

pairing: beomgyu x f!reader

w/c: 1.7k

genre: strangers to frenemies to lovers, high school au, slow burn...ish (?), fake dating (for a day)

warnings: none!

summary: In which, both your and Beomgyu’s friends started shipping you together after you offhandedly told them a story you thought was funny. They seem to have taken it another way and now every time someone asks about it, you wish you could go back and never mention it at all. You barely know the guy, let alone like him! And it's not like he likes you, either...

fic below the cut! enjoy <3

JANUARY 7TH

It was a day like any other. A faint breeze whispered against the windows of your living room. Outside, specks of snow painted the landscape a bright white. Winter, your second favorite season, only because you still prefer the superior weather of spring. You had gathered with some friends to hang out, bundled up in blankets on the couch as snacks and cocoa filled the coffee table in front of you. To your left sat Hueningkai, your cousin–more like your brother–who saw you grow from diapers, to your awkward phase, to who you are now: An outgoing, confident, genius (in his opinion at least; his grades are lackluster compared to yours).

Across from you two, on the floor and around the coffee table, sat the friends you made when you first ‘started your new life’, Chaewon and Yunjin. You met them at orientation (where Kai coldheartedly abandoned you) and things sorta went from there. Kai had heard lots about them through your late-night FaceTime calls and frequent hangouts, and he’d met them a couple of months into freshman year when he had no one besides you to hang out with at lunch. They all clicked, to your relief, and you’d formed your own little group together. Usually, you all love having movie nights or just chill, cozy hangouts, especially during winter. No one wants to be out in that cold for too long, realistically. Soobin, Kai’s friend, had decided to come this time around, too. He sat at the edge of the couch next to Kai, legs crossed and a blanket over his lap. Everything was going well. Airy giggles carried in the small space as the mugs of hot cocoa emptied and you all caught up on life while also reminiscing on embarrassing stories from your past. That was your first mistake.

“I was actually talking to my mom the other day, and…she brought up this story. ” You said ambiguously. Your eyebrows lifted and a smile pulled at the corner of your lips. Of course, you had piqued everyone’s interest, and they all pressured you to continue. There was a hum of silence as you wondered where to start, and then finally, you spoke.

“So basically, Kai’s been best friends with Beomgyu–you know him right?–since like…birth.” You started, immediately capturing the attention of your two friends across from you. They’d heard of him, shared some classes even, but never really talked to the guy directly. As for Kai, he knew him obviously (like literally everything about him), and Soobin did too since they’re all friends.

“But even though Kai’s my cousin, I don’t really talk to him. So, my mom was telling me about how this one time, Beomgyu stopped her at the grocery store and went, “hey, are you y/n’s mom?” my mom recognized him, obviously, because he and Kai are practically attached at the hip. Then apparently, he started talking about how I was a good student and I was always nice and stuff. And then after that, my mom never shut up about how he probably had a crush on me. Honestly, I doubt it. I remember she came home and asked me if I knew him and I was just like, he’s Kai’s friend? But like…why was he talking to my mom of all people?” You chuckled at the end of your rambling, finding Yunjin eyeing you with a sly smile, she was the first to speak. “My question is how he knew that was your mom if you two weren’t even friends?” She asked, her eyebrows lifting as she leaned towards you playfully. “I think your mom was onto something.”

A crease was quick to form between your eyebrows, lips parting as you rolled your eyes with a scoff. No way. “Yeah, no. Okay, maybe talking to her in the middle of a grocery store was kinda weird, I’ll admit, but the only reason he knew it was my mom is ‘cause of Kai, probably. Plus, we look exactly alike. It doesn’t mean he liked me, though.” You argued, unsure why you felt so defensive all of a sudden.

“I dunno, I think you two would make a cute couple.” Soobin cut in. His large, deep brown eyes observed your increasingly frantic form. Around them were thick, black, square-framed glasses that slipped down his nose as he sat up straight. If you looked close enough, you could see a hint of amusement in his expression from the way dimples threatened to form on his cheeks as the corners of his mouth twitched. “What? I barely even know him!” You exclaimed. However, it did little to stop the seed planted in their minds from growing. How did none of them take your side? Fake friends, seriously!

“Barely know him? Y/n, he’s been my best friend since I was six.” Kai interjected, which shocked you to the point where your jaw practically reached the floor. Not because he totally called you out but because you assumed (or maybe hoped) that at least Kai would’ve been against it since Beomgyu was his best friend. But he wasn’t. “Besides, he’d be better than any man you’d be interested in.”

“Hey! My taste isn’t that bad. I’m just unlucky.” You defended with a scoff and a forceful punch to Kai’s shoulder. Chaewon and Yunjin seemed to chuckle in disagreement, and your head whipped to them as your movements became more animated. “It’s really not! Besides, this isn’t what we were even talking about.”

“Right. So when’s your guys’ first date?” Chaewon asked as her lips quirked into a teasing smile. Her short hair bounced as her head turned to the side. Your cheeks were heating up, and you did not like it.

“I hate all of you.” You grumbled, still trying to fight. It was useless because the idea was already implanted in their minds and they’d already come up with the perfect ship name. Y/ngyu, or alternatively beomy/n. Well, this will be so much fun, you thought.

— °˖✧✿✧˖° —

10 DAYS LATER - JANUARY 17TH

It’s not fun. At all. Put simply, you want to crawl into a hole and die. Better yet, ceased to have existed at all. Okay, maybe that’s dramatic, but how else are you supposed to react? Your friends' big mouths mean that Beomgyu has found out about the ship name, yay. In fact, Kai seems proud as ever to admit that he asked Beomgyu about you–but you couldn’t be bothered to ask about the details. Even the mention of his name has irritation bubbling in your chest. It’s a pity since the guy himself hasn’t done anything.

Imagine your surprise when Yunjin is pulling you and Chaewon along to a new spot to eat lunch. Of course, you hadn’t thought much of it. Or, rather, you wanted to give your friend the benefit of the doubt. There was the annoying shipping stuff going on but most of the time that stuff just came down to dumb jokes and teasing. Plus, it’s cold out and she’s seemingly dragging you to a nice, warm, quiet classroom. As you trudge further and further from the cafeteria, loud conversation turns into faint murmurs that can be heard beneath the hum of the wind outside. You can’t help but feel your cheeks rise and your lips part as you smile. This is nice. Peacful.

Well, it would’ve been.

Your feet stop when you see the classroom, its door fully ajar and inviting. Kai, Beomgyu, and Soobin all sit at a cluster of desks moved together, three empty seats for you and your friends. Absolutely not. Immediately, you turn the other way. Curse Yunjin’s deathly grip on your wrist and Chaewon pushing you forward from behind because you don’t get far before they’re shoving you into the seat next to Beomgyu’s. Nothing comes out of your mouth, and nothing but an awkward glance is shared between you and the tall, pale-skinned, long-haired boy. He looks about the same as you remember from second-period math in eighth grade.

But maybe if you would’ve stared longer you would’ve noticed the way his eyes lingered for just a second too long.

— °˖✧✿✧˖° —

Beomgyu was, admittedly, a little surprised when Soobin first brought you up in conversation—well, not really. You’re Kai’s cousin, after all, so it wasn’t necessarily weird just…a bit unusual. He’d been over at Soobin’s house, sitting in front of the TV as they mindlessly clicked away at gaming controllers and argued over who was better. Things settled for a while when they switched to a more chill, less competitive game: Minecraft. The faint glow of the TV illuminated their faces in the dark, the only sounds being the occasional clicks of the controller and hum of the gentle background music. That’s when Kai spoke.

“You know y/n?” He asked quietly, sneaking a glance at the boy next to him, who’d gone stiff at the mention of your name. Beomgyu cleared his throat, feigning relaxation as he slouched slightly, hitting all the wrong buttons on his controller as he mustered a response.

“I, uh, yeah, ‘course—I mean, she’s my best friend’s cousin after all. Why wouldn’t I?” He fumbled through his words, seeming weirdly nervous. Soobin raised an eyebrow, a small smile pulling on his lips as he leaned toward his friend, nudging him gently.

“You’re so obvious, Beomgyu.” He teased, attempting to elicit a reaction. The reaction he got, however, was quite unexpected. Upon hearing the obvious implications of those words, a crease formed between Beomgyu’s brows and his hair bounced as he shook his head, scoffing.

“Obvious about what?” He asked, almost sounding offended. There was something lacking in his tone—the usual, easygoing, playfulness of his loud and obnoxious friend. Beomgyu, for once in his life, sounded serious. “I don’t like her.”

“I didn’t say you did,” Soobin replied, conceding with a small sigh. His gaze lingered on Beomgyu for a moment, attempting to decipher what was happening beneath the surface. He’d only meant to tease, but now he felt a little guilty. “Just joking around…but you’d be cute together.”

Well, he wasn’t guilty enough to quit teasing completely. This time, at least, Beomgyu let out an amused huff, rolling his eyes. Yeah right. As if you hadn’t ignored him the entirety of middle school.

“Shut up. No we wouldn’t.” Beomgyu grumbled, focusing back on the game and ignoring the familiar feelings threatening to bubble up. You’re on a whole other planet from him.

a/n: first fic! i hope this chapter isn't too boring, promise it'll get better vv soon if it seems people are interested (even if not i'll probably keep writing anyway lols). many more chapters to come! right now it's looking like 12, but it may get shorter/longer depending on what happens. also fun fact this is based on real events in my life...except it's less fun irl (this is my way of coping). comments, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! xo

#beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fic #txt ff #choi beomgyu x reader #txt fluff #txt x reader #txt fanfic #txt imagines #beomgyu imagines #kpop fanfic #txt x you #txt x y/n #beomgyu x you #beomgyu x y/n #choi beomgyu

21 notes · View notes

bamgyuuuri · 3 hours ago

Note

hi I have a fic idea with any member of you choice

the member gets mad at reader and gives her a really intense silent treatment which results in the reader having a breakdown later on.. then the member feels guilty obviously and they make up (something like that)

it's okay if you don't vibe with it though

love your works always ♡

⤷ fight or flight ┈ cbg.

pairings and tags. boyfriend!beomgyu x reader ft. ot4 . established relationship . miscommunication-ish . couple conflict . silent treatment . emotional tension . fluff . (hella) angst . emotional hurt/comfort . a little slowburn . probably a bit out of character ueueue . not 100% proofread!

word count. 16.9k

short note … AAAA thank u so much for this anon!! been taking breaks from finals to write this :3 think i got a little carried away erm... anyw! this prompt is sooo fitting for beomgyu especially since he’s pretty notorious for sulking a lot (adorably, of course) when things doesn’t go his way! and thank you for liking my works too, i appreciate you a lot !! i hope this is to your liking <3

to anyone who knew you and beomgyu, it seemed like you were living in a bubble of happiness—a life almost too perfect to believe.

mornings in your shared little apartment always started with sunlight streaming through the curtains, beomgyu tugging you out of bed for a jog neither of you actually enjoyed but pretended to, just to laugh at each other’s complaints.

breakfasts were always some sort of ritual; eggs cooked a little too runny for your liking, beomgyu sneaking bites of your toast, and the two of you seated at the tiny table, already planning your day.

it was the kind of life where people joked you were “too healthy” as a couple—always smiling, rarely fighting, and somehow making even the mundane moments feel like a scene out of a romantic drama. you worked hard to keep it that way, both of you.

but nothing had made you all the more happier than the idea of this getaway trip to the beach with your friends.

for weeks, the anticipation bubbled between you like an uncontainable secret. beomgyu would randomly call you over while you were brushing your hair or scrolling on your phone just to show you a new itinerary he’d whipped up.

“look, if we leave early enough, we can hit the market before the crowds show up, and then we can head to haeundae beach for lunch!” he said one night, his voice practically vibrating with excitement as he dragged his finger across his tablet screen.

you looked at him, amused. “you really think the others are going to wake up that early?”

“they don’t have a choice,” he grinned, leaning back into the couch. “besides, you said you wanted to collect seashells. we’ll be the only ones there if we’re early.”

“you remembered that?” you asked softly, tilting your head to watch his expression.

“of course i did,” he replied, looking at you like you were the only person in the world.

the days leading up to the trip were filled with these little moments. packing your bags felt like an adventure in itself—matching outfits for photos, snacks you absolutely didn’t need but bought anyway, and endless debates about playlists for the drive. you’d fall asleep every night tangled together on the couch, tired but smiling, already imagining the memories you’d make.

“what if we bury yeonjun in the sand and just leave him there?” beomgyu had said one evening, a mischievous grin stretching across his face.

“we’d come back, and he’d be leading a crab colony,” you laughed, nudging him with your elbow.

and then there were the quieter moments—when beomgyu’s voice softened as he described watching the sun set over the ocean with you, his hand absentmindedly tracing circles on your knee. “it’s going to be perfect,” he’d murmur, his gaze warm and steady.

you were both so sure it was going to be perfect.

but that assurance was short-lived.

the first sign was the alarm—or rather, the absence of it.

you stirred awake to an eerie stillness, your mind groggy and unfocused as you turned to check the time. sunlight spilled too brightly through the curtains, and a sinking feeling rooted itself in your chest.

9:13 a.m.

“beomgyu!” your voice cracked as you bolted upright, the realization hitting you like a freight train.

he groaned from under the covers, his hair a mess of brown tangles peeking out from the blanket. “yeah…?”

“we’re late!” you snapped, yanking the duvet off him in one swift motion. “we were supposed to leave an hour ago!”

his eyes flew open, bleary and disoriented, before widening in alarm. “oh shit.”

from that moment, it was chaos.

you stumbled around the apartment, the two of you bumping into each other as you scrambled to get ready. the carefully laid plans from the nights before unraveled in the frenzy. beomgyu darted between the bathroom and the living room, a toothbrush hanging from his mouth as he tried to find his sneakers.

“where’s my phone charger?” he called out, his voice muffled as he shoved a hand into the couch cushions.

“check your backpack!” you yelled back, frantically tossing socks into your duffel bag.

“it’s not there!”

“then maybe you didn’t pack it!”

the tension built with every passing second, your movements growing faster but sloppier. the zippers on your bags jammed, the coffee machine refused to start, and the apartment felt suffocating under the weight of your mutual frustration.

“i can’t find my water bottle,” you muttered, scanning the kitchen counters.

“do you really need it right now?” beomgyu shot back, his tone sharper than you’d expected.

you froze for a second, biting your lip before deciding it wasn’t worth arguing over.

by the time you finally stumbled out the door, the air felt thick with an unspoken tension. the morning sunlight, which should’ve been welcoming, only felt like a cruel reminder of how late you were.

but the universe wasn’t done with you just yet.

as you adjusted the strap of your bag and reached for the car keys, the handle of your duffel bag slipped from your grip. the bag hit the ground with a dull thud, and you watched in horror as the zipper burst open, spilling your belongings across the concrete driveway.

“s-shit, hold on—” you crouched down, your hands trembling as you tried to gather everything up.

beomgyu crouched next to you, his movements stiff as he shoved items back into the bag. “seriously? how did you even pack this thing?”

“i was in a rush..” you replied, heat rising to your face.

“clearly,” he muttered, zipping the bag with an irritated jerk before tossing it into the trunk.

neither of you said anything as you climbed into the car, the silence crackling like static. beomgyu turned the key in the ignition, and the car sputtered.

nothing.

he tried again. and again. the engine refused to catch, and with each failed attempt, his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“are you kidding me right now?” he groaned, slamming his hand against the wheel in frustration.

“gyu, just breathe,” you said softly, reaching out to place a hand on his arm.

“don’t,” he cut you off, his voice sharp enough to make you flinch. “don’t tell me to breathe right now.”

the third try finally got the car to start, but the momentary relief did little to ease the tension. the drive to the meeting point was a nightmare in itself—traffic stretched out endlessly, the heat of the sun glaring down through the windshield.

beomgyu’s knuckles were stark white against the leather of the steering wheel, his grip so tight it seemed like he might tear it apart. you watched him carefully, your heart sinking as the tension in the car became almost unbearable, like a tangible thing pressing down on your chest.

you hesitated, choosing your words with care, your voice soft and tentative. “it’s okay, gyu. the others will wait for us. it’s not a big deal—”

“it is a big deal,” he snapped, the sharp edge of his voice cutting through the air like a knife. his eyes didn’t leave the road, but his words hit you square in the chest. “we’re late, everything’s gone wrong, and—” he exhaled sharply, his free hand raking through his hair, disheveling it even further. nothing’s going the way it’s supposed to.”

his voice was laced with frustration, and though it wasn’t loud, it was harsh, almost biting. each word seemed to carry an accusation he wasn’t saying outright.

you sat there, stunned, unsure of how to respond. your fingers twisted nervously in your lap, the quiet whir of the air conditioner doing nothing to fill the suffocating silence.

“gyu, i’m sorry,” you said finally, the apology slipping out in a voice so small you barely recognized it as your own. “but i’m sure when we get there—”

“don’t,” he interrupted again, sharper this time, his tone rising in pitch. he turned his head just slightly toward you, his eyes flashing with a mixture of irritation and exhaustion. “don’t say it’s okay when it’s not. we wouldn’t even be in this mess if—”

he stopped abruptly, his lips pressing into a thin, unforgiving line. his unfinished sentence hung in the air, loud in its absence, and yet you could feel the weight of what he’d left unsaid pressing down on you like a boulder.

if what? if you’d woken up earlier? if you hadn’t dropped the bag? if you’d been more organized, quicker, better?

the silence that followed was crushing, the kind that made you hyper-aware of every little sound—the hum of the engine, the faint squeak of his grip on the wheel, the uneven rhythm of your own shallow breaths.

beomgyu’s frustration radiated off him in waves, suffocating the small space between you. the flicker of his gaze toward you, fleeting and heavy with something unspoken, only made the lump in your throat grow.

he didn’t have to say it outright—you could see it in the tension of his shoulders, the way he refused to look at you fully, as if your very presence was just another reminder of everything that had gone wrong.

your stomach twisted, shame creeping in like a slow-burning fire. you wanted to defend yourself, to say something that would smooth the edges of his anger, but the words caught in your throat. instead, you sat there, hands fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, your heart thudding painfully against your ribs.

he tapped his fingers against the wheel, the rhythmic motion filled with a restless energy that made you feel like you were walking on a fraying tightrope.

you bit the inside of your cheek, your voice trembling as you tried again. “gyu, i know this morning’s been a mess, but we’ll fix it. we always—”

“i don’t want to hear it,” he muttered as he cut you off for the nth time today, his voice low but cutting, the finality in his tone making your chest tighten even further.

the words hit harder than they should have, each one landing with the weight of an accusation he wasn’t quite saying but you couldn’t help hearing.

you turned your head to look out the window, blinking quickly against the sting in your eyes. the sun shone down on you mockingly, the bright day outside a cruel contrast to the heavy storm brewing inside the car.

⁺ ༄ ༝ ₊

the traffic had finally eased, the car moving smoothly now toward the meeting point where your friends were waiting. the knot in your stomach loosened slightly at the thought of being on your way, but the tension in the car remained thick.

you stole a glance at beomgyu. his hands still gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles pale, though not as stark as before. his gaze was fixed straight ahead, unwavering and distant, his jaw set in a way that made him seem unreachable.

it wasn’t like him—your beomgyu was usually so expressive, always wearing his heart on his sleeve, whether he was happy, annoyed, or playful. but now? now his expression was unreadable, a closed book, and the silence felt impenetrable.

you swallowed hard and turned your gaze to the passing scenery, forcing yourself to take a small, quiet breath. it was just a bad morning. that’s all it is, you told yourself. this is still beomgyu. my beomgyu. surely, he’d come around.

the silence stretched, growing heavier with each passing second. the hum of the car engine was the only sound between you, a reminder of how unnatural this quiet was.

you tried. of course, you tried.

“the traffic’s clearing up, finally,” you ventured, your voice soft, careful not to poke the bear. “we’ll probably be there in no time now.”

nothing. not even a flicker of acknowledgment.

you bit your lip, glancing down at your lap as you tried again. “you know, maybe it’s a sign... all the chaos this morning. maybe it means the rest of the trip will be perfect to make up for it!”

still, nothing. his eyes remained glued to the road, his expression betraying no reaction.

you clenched your hands together, forcing yourself to stay calm, though the lump in your throat felt like it was growing heavier with every failed attempt.

“oh!” you exclaimed suddenly, trying to inject enthusiasm into your voice. “remember that stupid road game we came up with? the one where we try to make up stories about other drivers? we can do it now!” you nodded toward a car a few lanes over. “like that guy over there in the red sedan—what if he’s some retired rockstar trying to lay low?”

silence.

you swallowed hard, your nails digging into your palms. “okay, maybe that’s too far-fetched... how about…” you trailed off, your voice faltering as you realized he wasn’t going to respond.

your chest tightened painfully, and you turned your gaze to the window, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. this wasn’t supposed to happen. it wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

but you weren’t done yet. you couldn’t be done yet. you just had to try harder.

you reached forward, fiddling with the radio until a familiar tune filtered through the speakers. it was a song you used to tease him about loving, but one you’d catch him humming when he thought you weren’t listening. “remember this?” you asked, your voice soft, almost hopeful. “you always said you hated it, but i know you secretly love it.”

still nothing.

you laughed, the sound hollow, trying to mask the growing crack in your composure. “you know, if you don’t say anything, i’ll just start singing. and you really don’t want that.”

his silence stretched on, and the air grew heavier, your failed attempts at levity falling flat. your hands twisted nervously in your lap as a quiet panic started to rise in your chest.

you thought about touching his arm, breaking through the barrier with something tangible, something he couldn’t ignore—but the stiffness of his shoulders and the unrelenting tension in his expression held you back.

your throat tightened as a thought you didn’t want to entertain crept in. was this it? was he really this mad at you?

you forced yourself to breathe once more, to quell the panic clawing at your chest. it’s just a bad morning, you told yourself for the nth time, as if repeating it enough would make it true. he’s just upset because of the traffic, because we were late, because of… everything. it’s not about me. it’s not.

but the silence felt personal now, like a wall he’d built to shut you out entirely. every failed attempt to bridge the gap between you only added to the ache in your chest, the unshakable weight of guilt settling heavily over you.

you curled your fingers into your lap, the words you wanted to say piling up in your throat. “gyu,” you murmured again, your voice breaking slightly. “please…”

but he didn’t move. didn’t speak. didn’t even glance your way.

sucking in a breath, you decided to fix your gaze out the window, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the lump in your throat from growing any larger. the world outside blurred past in streaks of blue and green, but you barely noticed. instead, you focused on your breathing—counting each inhale, holding it, exhaling slowly—desperately trying to maintain the fragile facade of calm.

but your trembling hands betrayed you. your fingers curled and uncurled against your thighs, as if the restless movement could somehow dissipate the heaviness pooling in your chest. the soft hum of the car, the rhythmic crunch of tires against asphalt, and the faint melody of the radio only seemed to amplify the silence between you and beomgyu, making it echo louder in your head.

a storm of thoughts swirled relentlessly in your mind, each one striking like lightning. was he really mad at me? the question rang out, its edges sharp and cutting. why?

your memory reeled back to the start of the morning, dissecting every detail like a crime scene. was it because of the alarm? your chest tightened. you were sure you’d double-checked it the night before, but maybe… maybe you hadn’t. maybe you’d set it wrong, or forgotten to turn up the volume. maybe this entire cascade of disasters was all because of your carelessness.

or was it because i moved too slowly? your stomach twisted painfully at the thought. you replayed the frantic rush to get ready, the way your clumsy hands had fumbled with the zipper of your bag, the way you’d bumped into him as you scrambled to pack your toiletries. was that it? was i holding him back?

then your mind darted to the driveway, to the thud of your bag hitting the ground, its contents spilling everywhere like a dam breaking loose. was that his final straw? you could still feel the burn of embarrassment as you’d scrambled to pick everything up, your hands shaking, his frustration palpable even as he helped.

or maybe it wasn’t just one thing. maybe it was everything combined—a chain reaction of small mistakes, each one piling on top of the last until it was too much to bear.

the more you thought about it, the more the sinking feeling in your stomach grew, churning like a whirlpool threatening to pull you under. every imagined scenario, every possible reason for his silence seemed to point back to you. your breath hitched as guilt began to creep in, wrapping around your chest like a vice.

it’s my fault, you thought, the words echoing mercilessly in your head. i ruined the morning. i ruined everything.

your eyes stung, but you blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall. you couldn’t let him see you like this—not now, not when he was already so upset.

outside the window, the scenery continued to shift—trees giving way to stretches of open road, sunlight glinting off distant rooftops. but it all felt hollow, like a backdrop to a play where the script had gone horribly wrong.

you stole another glance at him, hoping, praying, for some kind of sign that things would be okay—a softening of his expression, a flicker of his gaze in your direction, anything. but he remained unmoving, his focus unwavering on the road ahead, his silence unbroken.

you turned back to the window, biting down harder on your cheek until you tasted the faint tang of iron. it’s just a bad morning, you told yourself again, clinging onto the thought like a lifeline. he’s just frustrated. it’ll pass. it has to.

soon enough, the car rolled to a stop in front of the beach house you and your friends had rented, the sight of the familiar place almost too good to be true after the morning’s chaos. the sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the sand and the sea beyond. the salty breeze carried the sound of seagulls overhead, a stark contrast to the suffocating silence that had filled the car.

outside, yeonjun, soobin, taehyun, and kai stood by the entrance, their laughter and chatter ceasing momentarily as they noticed your arrival. yeonjun was the first to wave, a wide grin spreading across his face as he called out, “finally! we thought you two got lost or something!”

the sight of them brought a small, fleeting smile to your face. relief bloomed in your chest like a fragile flower, momentarily dulling the ache that had been gnawing at you all morning. you lifted a hand to wave back, the gesture instinctive, even as your heart felt heavier than it should.

on impulse, you glanced at beomgyu beside you, hoping, wishing, for a flicker of his usual warmth. perhaps a grin, or even a faint smirk, as he saw your friends. anything to show that the tension was melting away. but there was nothing. his expression was as unreadable as it had been the entire drive, his jaw tight, eyes fixed ahead.

your hand faltered slightly mid-wave, but you quickly recovered, forcing yourself to keep smiling as you turned back to your friends.

beomgyu parked the car with practiced ease, his movements quick and precise as he pulled the gear into place and killed the engine. for a moment, you sat still, expecting—hoping—that he’d get out, circle around, and open your door like he always did. it was a small gesture, but one you’d grown to love.

but today, he didn’t.

you heard the trunk slam shut before you even unbuckled your seatbelt. glancing through the rearview mirror, you saw him already heading toward the others, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, leaving you behind without a word.

your throat tightened as you reached for the door handle yourself. you swallowed hard against the lump threatening to form, your trembling fingers fumbling for a moment before the door creaked open. stepping out, you smoothed your clothes with shaky hands and walked to the trunk to grab your things.

it felt wrong. it felt so wrong.

your feet dragged slightly as you made your way to where the others stood, their smiles faltering as they took in the scene. yeonjun’s brow furrowed slightly, his eyes darting between you and beomgyu, who was already greeting them with a short nod and muttered hellos.

“hey,” soobin said, his voice softer than usual as he approached you, his towering frame leaning slightly closer. “you okay? you seem… off.”

you forced another smile, though it felt like it cracked the moment it touched your lips. “yeah, i’m fine,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper. “just a rough morning, is all.”

“rough morning?” kai piped up, his wide eyes brimming with concern. “what happened? did you guys get lost?”

“or did beomgyu get lost in one of his endless playlists again?” taehyun added, his attempt at lighthearted humor earning a small, forced laugh from you.

“something like that,” you murmured, not trusting yourself to elaborate without your voice shaking.

meanwhile, yeonjun stood by beomgyu, one hand gesturing animatedly as he said something you couldn’t quite make out. but what caught your attention was beomgyu’s posture—rigid and closed off, a stark contrast to his usual carefree demeanor. even yeonjun, who was notoriously good at reading people, looked slightly thrown off by his curt responses.

the tension between you and beomgyu felt like a tangible force, pressing heavily against your chest. the others exchanged confused glances, their unspoken questions hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

“well,” yeonjun finally said, breaking the awkward silence. “let’s get inside and settle in. long drive, huh?”

you nodded quickly, seizing the opportunity to shift focus away from the strained atmosphere. but as you followed the group toward the entrance, the weight in your chest remained, each step feeling heavier than the last.

you glanced at beomgyu one last time, praying for some sign that things would be okay.

but he didn’t look back. not once.

⁺ ༄ ༝ ₊

the beach house looked like it was pulled straight from a travel brochure—sunlit, inviting, and brimming with the promise of a perfect getaway. golden rays filtered through sheer curtains, painting the walls with a warm, golden hue. the smell of the sea carried on the breeze, mingling with the faint scent of pinewood from the cozy furniture. it was the kind of place that should have filled you with excitement.

but all you could feel was a crushing sense of unease.

“wow, this place is amazing,” kai said, his voice bubbling with excitement as he peeked into every room. “i call dibs on the hammock out back!”

“you can’t call dibs on everything the moment we get here,” taehyun muttered, though his lips curled into a faint smile.

their chatter echoed through the house, bouncing off the walls as yeonjun and soobin lugged their bags inside. you stood by the door, still gripping your suitcase like it was a lifeline, your eyes darting to beomgyu as he wordlessly brushed past everyone.

“gyu—” you started, your voice barely audible, but he didn’t stop. he headed straight for the hallway, his jaw set and his posture stiff, leaving a void in the space he’d just vacated.

you froze in the doorway, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. the others, who had bright smiles, now exchanged puzzled looks.

“what’s up with him?” yeonjun asked, his smile faltering as he tilted his head toward where beomgyu had disappeared.

“maybe he’s just tired,” kai offered hesitantly, though his curious gaze flickered between you and the closed door.

“tired?” yeonjun's brows furrowed, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied your face. “what happened on the drive here?”

your stomach twisted at the question. the pressure of their gazes, the weight of their concern—it was too much. forcing a smile, you shook your head quickly. “nothing. just... a rough morning, like i said.”

soobin’s soft voice cut through your thin facade like a knife. “you sure?” his tone wasn’t pushy, but the way his gentle eyes searched yours made your chest tighten. “doesn’t look like ‘just a rough morning.’”

“no, it’s fine,” you lied, your voice too bright, too quick. “really. he’s just... in one of his moods.”

“one of his moods?” taehyun repeated, his brows raising skeptically. “he didn’t even say hi.”

“he’s probably just stressed,” you said, trying to dismiss it. “we woke up late, and the drive was a bit, uh, chaotic. you know how he gets when things don’t go as planned.”

the others exchanged glances, their concern palpable. yeonjun crossed his arms, leaning against the couch with a frown. “that doesn’t explain why he’s acting like this.”

soobin’s expression softened further, and he stepped closer to you. "did you guys fight?"

your heart sank. his voice was so careful, so kind, and it made you want to crumble right there. you felt their eyes on you, waiting, pressing for answers you weren’t sure how to give.

“no,” you said quietly, your voice trembling slightly. “he’s just... upset. it’ll pass.”

but the way soobin studied you said he didn’t believe you. taehyun, too, looked unconvinced, his lips pressing into a thin line as his eyes flickered toward the closed door.

“do you want to talk about it?” soobin asked gently, his concern as steady as a hand reaching out in the dark.

you shook your head quickly, forcing another smile that felt like it would shatter at any moment. “it’s really fine. we’re fine.”

“if you say so,” soobin said softly, though the doubt lingered in his tone.

kai's gaze lingered on you a moment longer, his lips parting as if he wanted to say more, but then he sighed and nodded. “just... let us know if you need anything, okay?”

“thanks,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you clutched your bag tighter and made your way towards your shared room.

as you stepped away, the sound of their low murmurs filled the space behind you. you couldn’t make out their words, but you knew they were talking about you. about him. about whatever they’d sensed brewing between you two.

“did beomgyu say anything to you?” soobin asked taehyun quietly, his brows furrowed as he glanced toward the hallway.

“not a word,” taehyun replied, crossing his arms. “he’s acting weird.”

“they’re both acting weird,” yeonjun murmured, his gaze flickering to the room you had disappeared into.

“you really think they fought?” kai asked, his wide eyes filled with concern.

“it feels like more than that,” soobin said slowly, a thoughtful frown tugging at his lips. “they’re usually so… in sync. it’s like they’re avoiding each other.”

“he didn’t even look at her,” taehyun added, his tone unusually sharp.

yeonjun sighed, running a hand through his hair. “should we talk to them?”

“no,” soobin said firmly, though his voice remained soft. “not yet. let’s give them some space. but we need to keep an eye on this.”

inside your shared room, on the other hand, the sound of waves crashing faintly outside the window should have been soothing, but instead, it only amplified the suffocating tension hanging between you.

beomgyu was already there, his back turned to you as he unpacked his bag with slow, deliberate movements. his posture was stiff, his shoulders taut with an unmistakable edge of irritation. he didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge your presence in the slightest, as though you weren’t even there.

you lingered by the door for a moment, your hand still gripping the handle. “gyu,” you began softly, your voice barely louder than a whisper, “can we talk?”

no response.

your chest tightened as you set your bag down, your movements hesitant. “please, gyu,” you tried again, stepping closer to him. “i know this morning didn’t go as planned, but—”

he turned slightly, just enough to grab a shirt from his bag, but his gaze never met yours. the silence was deafening, each second stretching out like an eternity.

your stomach churned, and you swallowed hard against the lump forming in your throat. “can you just... say something?” you asked, your voice trembling now.

nothing.

the weight of his silence pressed down on you like a physical force, your breaths growing shallow as you watched him move methodically, purposefully ignoring you. it wasn’t like him. this wasn’t the beomgyu you knew—the one who would always pull you into a hug after even the smallest disagreement, the one who would crack a joke to diffuse any tension.

“gyu, please,” you pleaded, your voice breaking despite your best efforts to keep it steady. “i’m sorry if... if i messed things up this morning. i didn’t mean to. i just...” you trailed off, your words faltering as his silence swallowed them whole.

he zipped his bag closed with a sharp sound that made you flinch, his movements still deliberate and controlled. he walked to the dresser and began placing his clothes inside, his back still to you.

the sinking feeling in your stomach grew heavier, like a lead weight dragging you down. your fingers curled into fists at your sides, your nails digging into your palms as you tried to steady yourself.

“we can’t fix this if you won’t even talk to me,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper now. the vulnerability in your tone made your skin prickle with shame, but you couldn’t stop the words from spilling out.

still, he didn’t respond. didn’t stop. didn’t even turn around.

the silence was unbearable, crushing. every second felt like another crack forming in the fragile foundation of your relationship, and you couldn’t help but feel like it was all your fault.

you took a shaky step back, your vision blurring as tears threatened to spill over. “okay,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you turned away. “we’ll talk later..”

you grabbed your bag and moved to the far corner of the room, your back to him as you fumbled to unpack your things. your hands trembled, your movements clumsy as you tried to busy yourself, to do anything to distract from the ache building in your chest.

you could only watch in silence as beomgyu left the room a few moments later, his towel in hand, his steps heavy and deliberate. he didn’t even spare you a glance, his face impassive, like you weren’t even there. his indifference cut through you like a blade, leaving a hollow ache in your chest.

the door clicked shut behind him, and the moment the sound echoed in the room, you felt the dam inside you break. your hand flew to your mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to tear out of your chest, but it didn’t matter. the tears came anyway, hot and relentless.

you sank down onto the chair, your body shaking as the sobs wracked through you. your chest felt tight, suffocating, as if the very air around you had turned to lead. you couldn’t stop crying—tears blurring your vision, flowing down your cheeks faster than you could wipe them away.

you felt so small, so foolish. why had you been so careless? the thoughts twisted in your mind like a vicious cycle. why couldn’t you just have done everything right? you’d ruined everything. all the excitement that had built up for weeks, the anticipation of the trip, the plans you’d made with beomgyu... it was all slipping through your fingers. because of you.

you buried your face in your hands, trying to muffle the sobs that kept spilling from you, choking on the realization that you had pushed him away when all you wanted was to make things right. the guilt churned in your stomach like a storm, a tempest of doubt and self-loathing.

how could you have messed this up so badly?

time seemed to stretch on endlessly as you sat there, lost in your emotions. but eventually, the tears slowed, and your breathing began to even out, though it felt like your chest had been hollowed out.

you stood up slowly, wiping at your face with the back of your hand, trying to gather the shattered pieces of yourself. the mirror on the wall caught your reflection, and you couldn’t help but flinch. your eyes were red-rimmed, your face streaked with tears, and the person staring back at you seemed like a stranger—weak, fragile, and utterly defeated.

pull yourself together, you told yourself, feeling the sting of self-disappointment.

you took a shaky breath, trying to steady your pulse as you grabbed your bag and changed into a rash guard, forcing yourself to move through the motions. you had to be presentable. for your friends, for everyone. you couldn’t let them see how badly you were falling apart.

when you finished adjusting your clothes, you hesitated for a moment, staring at the door. you could stay in the room, hiding away, nursing your broken heart in silence. but you knew that would only make things worse. you had to face it. you had to face him, even if you didn’t know how.

with a final, shaky breath, you reached for the doorknob.

as you opened the door, you were met with an unexpected sight—soobin, standing just on the other side, his hand raised as if he were about to knock. his expression faltered when he saw your face, and his brows furrowed in concern.

“hey,” he said softly, his voice gentle but laced with an underlying tension. “i saw beomgyu go out without you. are you sure you guys are really okay?”

you quickly blinked your eyes, sniffling softly, and forced a smile onto your face. it was shaky, but you could pass it off as fine—as long as you didn't break. you couldn't afford to break. not now.

"it's really nothing, soobin," you said, trying to make your voice sound light and steady, though it was anything but. "i'm just being silly, honestly. it's been a long day, and everything's just... piled up, you know?" you forced a laugh, hoping it didn't sound as hollow as it felt.

soobin didn’t move. he remained there, his eyes studying you with an intensity that made you feel small under his gaze. he opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, unsure. but he wasn’t fooled—not entirely. his expression shifted, his brows furrowing in doubt.

"i don’t buy it.” soobin said gently, his hand now resting lightly on your shoulder, almost as if grounding you. "i can tell when something’s off. you know you can talk to me, right? i mean, really talk to me."

you quickly nodded, shaking your head as you tried to push all of the emotions down, forcing them into some small, hidden corner of your heart where they couldn’t be seen. “no, no, really, it’s fine! everything’s fine. just a little... bad timing, you know? it's all going to be okay." you gave another shaky smile, this time more forced.

soobin was quiet for a moment, clearly not convinced. his gaze flickered down to your eyes again, searching for the cracks in the facade you were desperately trying to hold together.

but then you caught yourself—this isn't you. you quickly straightened your posture and turned towards down the hall, motioning for him to follow you. "come on, let’s not keep everyone waiting. we’ll make up for lost time, right? we’ve got a whole day ahead!" you tried to make your voice chipper, but the words felt like they were slipping through your fingers.

you could almost feel soobin’s gaze still lingering on you, heavy and unsure. you didn't dare meet his eyes again; you couldn’t bear for him to see past the mask you were struggling to hold up.

soobin took a step back, and though you didn’t look at him, you could feel him standing there, unmoving. you could feel his hesitation, the quiet concern that wrapped around him like a quiet storm. but he didn’t speak. he just stood there, watching you, still doubtful. you could feel it in the air, thick like tension.

"alright," he said finally, his voice low, almost too gentle. "but if you need anything—"

"i’m fine," you interjected quickly, still smiling, still forcing it. "really, i’m fine. let’s just go." you went and finally left soobin there as you made your way to where the others were, not sparing him another glance.

with a soft sigh, soobin followed you, but you could feel the weight of his doubt pressing in on you as you walked ahead. as much as you tried to convince yourself everything would be okay, you knew you were only fooling yourself.

but you had to keep going. for everyone’s sake.

⁺ ༄ ༝ ₊

the beach house felt like a distant memory now as the group gathered on the golden sands. the rhythmic crash of waves filled the air, mingling with the faint squawks of seagulls overhead. laughter and chatter bubbled up around you, carried away on the salty breeze, and for a moment, the scene felt almost perfect.

yeonjun stood at the center of the group, a neon-yellow water gun clutched in his hands, his grin as sharp as the sunlight reflecting off the waves. “all right, everyone! no holding back. if you don’t want to get soaked, this is your last chance to run!”

his voice was playful, dripping with mischief, and it sent a ripple of energy through the group. kai cheered, already rolling up his sleeves, while soobin laughed, shaking his head at yeonjun’s antics. taehyun crossed his arms, smirking knowingly. “you’re going to regret this, yeonjun.”

but your gaze wasn’t on yeonjun or the others—your eyes were drawn to beomgyu.

he stood a little apart from the group, his arms loosely crossed, his posture stiff. the breeze toyed with his hair, but he didn’t seem to notice. his gaze was fixed somewhere on the horizon, distant and detached, as though the lively scene unfolding around him had nothing to do with him.

before you could dwell on the ache in your chest any longer, two pairs of hands clamped down on your shoulders, yanking you from your thoughts. “gotcha!” kai’s voice rang out, light and carefree.

you let out a startled squeak as kai and taehyun flanked you, their grins wide with mischief. “you’re not escaping this,” taehyun added, his tone teasing as he gave you a gentle shove toward the water.

“w-wait, hold on—!” you protested, stumbling slightly, but their laughter drowned out your words.

“no holding back!” kai declared, his excitement infectious.

you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped your lips, even as your heart felt heavy. their energy was almost enough to distract you, almost enough to make you forget—almost.

“you guys are impossible,” you muttered, shaking your head, though a faint smile tugged at your lips.

as they dragged you closer to the water, the cool waves lapping at your feet, you instinctively glanced back at beomgyu. he still hasn’t moved.

“hey, beomgyu!” taehyun suddenly called out, his voice cutting through the sound of the waves. he waved a hand toward him, his brows furrowed slightly. “you coming or what?”

all eyes turned to beomgyu, the weight of the moment settling heavily in the air. for a second, you held your breath, your heart thudding painfully in your chest. maybe this was it. maybe he’d finally join in, finally look at you, finally—

but he didn’t.

beomgyu’s gaze flickered toward taehyun for the briefest of moments before shifting back to the ocean. he stayed where he was, rooted to the sand, his body language closed off, his silence deafening.

the group exchanged glances, the tension palpable. taehyun frowned, his sharp eyes darting back to you, as if piecing together something unspoken. yeonjun, too, glanced your way, his bright expression now clouded with quiet concern.

you felt exposed, like every crack in your carefully constructed facade was suddenly visible. forcing a laugh, you waved a hand dismissively. “don’t mind him,” you said, your voice overly cheerful. "he's okay, just... recharging his social battery."

“is he really?” taehyun asked, his tone careful but laced with doubt.

“positive,” you replied quickly, pasting on a reassuring smile. “come on, we came here to have fun, right?”

soobin didn’t say anything, but his gaze still lingered on you, his concern evident. you avoided it again, afraid that if you looked too long, the cracks in your armor would split wide open.

with a gentle nudge, you urged the group back into the water, their laughter slowly returning as they resumed their splashing and games. but even as you joined in, even as you forced yourself to laugh and smile, you couldn’t shake the hollow ache in your chest.

soon enough, the afternoon melted into a tapestry of laughter, splashes, and golden sunlight as you and the others played in the ocean. yeonjun, of course, dominated with his water gun, cackling like a cartoon villain as the others scrambled to dodge his onslaught.

taehyun was quick on his feet, darting around with surprising agility, his laughter sharp and bright. kai attempted to splash him back, only to get tackled into the water by soobin, who joined in with his signature playful grin. the chaos was infectious, and even you couldn’t hold back your giggles as you tried to keep up, cheeks damp from both the salty spray of the ocean and your own breathless amusement.

for a while, it felt like nothing else existed but this moment. the weight on your chest seemed to lift, replaced by the warmth of camaraderie and the sun on your skin. you let yourself be carried by the lighthearted energy of the group, diving into the waves and letting the cool water wash over you.

eventually, you all moved onto the sand. someone suggested beach volleyball, and yeonjun took it upon himself to organize teams, his competitive streak coming out full force.

the game started off with a lot of flubs and laughter—kai missed the ball entirely on his first serve, and soobin teased him mercilessly for it. taehyun, ever the steady hand, stepped in to show everyone how it was done, and soon, the game was in full swing.

you found yourself laughing again, a genuine smile spreading across your face as the group grew more competitive. the ball sailed back and forth, accompanied by cheers and groans, the sand flying up in little puffs beneath your feet as you raced to keep up.

but beomgyu’s presence—or lack thereof—was always in the corner of your mind. every now and then, your gaze would flicker toward him, and each time, your smile would waver. it was as though his stillness acted as a reminder of the tension lingering between you, a thread pulling taut with every stolen glance.

and then it happened.

you turned your head mid-game, your eyes instinctively searching for him. this time, instead of finding him looking out at the horizon or down at his feet, you met his gaze head-on.

his eyes, dark and unreadable, locked with yours.

your breath hitched, your heart leaping into your throat. for a moment, everything else faded away—the game, the laughter, the sound of the waves. it was just you and him, caught in a fleeting moment that felt heavier than it should’ve.

and then your foot caught on an uneven patch of sand.

your heart stopped as you stumbled forward, your balance tipping precariously. the world tilted around you, and before you could catch yourself, you landed hard on the sand. the grains softened the impact slightly, but the sharp sting on your knee told you that not all was unscathed.

the laughter immediately cut off, replaced by a chorus of concerned voices. “are you okay?” yeonjun was the first to reach you, his hands hovering awkwardly, his usual confidence replaced with worry. taehyun and kai then knelt beside you, their expressions filled with worry.

soobin crouched in front of you, his expression calm but tinged with concern as his eyes flickered down to your leg. “you’re bleeding,” he pointed out, his voice soft but firm.

your gaze followed his, and sure enough, a small but angry red scratch ran across your knee, a thin line of blood welling up and smearing against your skin. it wasn’t deep, but the sight of it made your stomach drop nonetheless.

“it’s just a scratch,” you mumbled, cheeks burning as you tried to laugh it off, brushing sand from your hands. “i’m okay, i promise.” but your reassurance did little to ease the tension in the group.

kai frowned, his usual playfulness replaced with genuine concern. “it doesn’t look okay...” he said, his voice uncharacteristically serious.

“here, lean on me.” taehyun extended his hand, steady and reliable, as he helped you sit up properly. his movements were careful, as though he feared hurting you further.

as the others fretted over you, soobin’s gaze drifted upward, his attention shifting to the figure standing at a distance. beomgyu hadn’t moved, but something about him had shifted.

his body was tense, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that was hard to miss. for the briefest of moments, soobin caught it—the way beomgyu’s feet shifted forward, just slightly, as though he were about to rush to your side.

there was no mistaking the flicker of worry that passed across his face, unguarded and raw. it was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his unreadable mask, but it had been there. beomgyu’s hand twitched at his side, his fingers curling into a fist before he took a deliberate step back, turning around entirely as he made his way back to the beach house silently.

soobin narrowed his eyes, his lips pressing into a thin line. but he didn’t say anything, his focus returning to you instead.

you, oblivious to beomgyu’s brief moment of concern, were busy waving off the others’ worries. “really, it’s not a big deal,” you insisted, though the sting in your knee made you wince slightly.

“not a big deal? you’re bleeding!” yeonjun argued, his frown deepening.

“let's get it cleaned, yeah?” taehyun utters, his tone firmer this time. “the saltwater will sting, but it’ll keep it from getting infected.”

soobin stood abruptly. “i’ll grab the first aid kit,” he declared, already jogging toward the beach house without waiting for a response.

soobin walked up the steps of the house, the sound of the waves crashing behind him growing distant as he reached the door. he stopped short when he spotted beomgyu standing just beyond the threshold, looking out over the beach, his posture stiff and unreadable.

the air between them felt thick as soobin grabbed the first aid kit from the counter, his hands trembling slightly from the pent-up anger he hadn’t realized he was holding back. he couldn’t understand why beomgyu was being so distant, so cold, especially when you needed him most.

until he couldn't hold back anymore.

“what the hell, choi?” soobin’s words were sharp, slicing through the stillness. “you just stood there and watched her fall? watched her hurt herself without doing a damn thing?” his voice cracked with the rawness of his frustration, each syllable dripping with resentment.

beomgyu didn’t react. he didn’t even move. but that only made soobin angrier. he took a step forward, the first aid kit now feeling like an anchor in his hand, a tangible reminder of how ridiculous this all was.

“you're ridiculous,” soobin spat, his words coming faster now, fueled by something he didn’t want to admit. “she’s sitting there bleeding, and you just—” he broke off, his breath coming in quick bursts. he forced himself to take another step forward, huffing in a breath.

“i don’t get you, man,” soobin muttered, his voice low but intense. “you’re suddenly so hard to read. you treat her like this, and you act like nothing’s wrong? if you don’t get your act together soon, you’re gonna lose everything. you’re gonna lose her."

the silence between them stretched out, thick and suffocating. soobin could feel the tension hanging in the air, the words he’d said weighing heavy on his chest. he stood there for a moment, eyes locked on beomgyu, but there was no response.

with a final, exasperated shake of his head, soobin turned away, his steps slow but deliberate. the sound of his footsteps faded into the distance.

and as he disappeared back to where you and the others were, beomgyu’s gaze finally flickered downward, the knot in his chest tightening further, his own heart weighed down by something he didn’t want to name.

⁺ ༄ ༝ ₊

after tending to your wound and resting a little, the group had decided to head back to the beach house to take a breather and eat. their chatter filled the air once more as they made their way toward the building, all of them eager to grab something to munch on after hours of swimming and playing under the sun. kai and yeonjun joked about what they were going to snack on, already making plans for what to raid from the kitchen, while soobin trailed behind them, his voice soft but carrying as he gave one last look toward you.

you, however, couldn’t bring yourself to follow. the sand felt heavy beneath you, your body tired from the events of the day, but it wasn’t just that. the emotional weight that had been building all day was far too much to bear in the company of others.

it wasn’t just the physical sting of your scraped knee, which still throbbed faintly, it was everything else—the ache in your chest, the confusion swirling around your heart, and the weight of uncertainty that had settled on your shoulders ever since you’d noticed the way beomgyu had distanced himself. you needed space. you needed to breathe.

“i’ll catch up in a minute,” you said, trying to muster some normalcy in your tone as you waved them off. “i just need a moment alone.”

they looked back at you with varying degrees of concern, but they didn’t press. as the group slowly faded from view, you allowed yourself a deep breath, trying to calm the racing thoughts that kept spiraling.

you sat down on the sand, your fingers absently brushing at the grains, watching as they fell between your fingertips. the ocean, vast and seemingly endless, stretched out before you. its rhythmic pull, the sound of waves crashing against the shore, should have been soothing—but today, it felt distant, cold, just like beomgyu.

but it wasn’t just him alone. it was also the way he had looked at you—or rather, the way he hadn’t. you couldn’t shake the image of him, standing so far off, looking anywhere but at you when you needed him. your chest tightened at the thought, a knot forming deep within. his lack of reaction had hit harder than you expected, and the longer you thought about it, the more confused you became.

what had happened to him? what had happened to the way things used to be?

you bit your lip, fighting back the urge to let the frustration spill over. it wasn’t like him, you told yourself. so why does it feel like everything’s slipping away?

you stayed there for a while longer, feeling the weight of your thoughts settle like the tide—pushing in, retreating, pushing in again, but never leaving you truly at peace. your gaze lingered on the horizon, the colors of the sky beginning to shift as the sun dipped lower, casting a soft, amber glow over the ocean. yet, even the beauty of the scene couldn’t bring you solace. it was all a reminder of how far you felt from everything you’d hoped for today, how alone you felt despite being surrounded by people who cared for you.

just as you thought you couldn’t sit in this silence any longer, you heard footsteps approaching. you didn’t need to look up, as the air around you seemed to settle in a way that only taehyun’s presence could achieve, gentle and steady, like the calm after a storm. there was no rush in his movement, no attempt to push you into speaking. he simply sat down beside you, the soft sound of his clothes shifting in the sand the only indication of his presence.

for a few minutes, neither of you spoke, the quiet between you stretching comfortably, almost as though the silence itself was a space he was giving you to breathe. the steady rhythm of the waves continued in the background, but it did little to ease the tension knotting in your chest.

taehyun didn’t rush you with questions or comments, but you could feel him beside you, his quiet presence reassuring, even in the silence. you glanced at him sideways, just for a second, but he wasn’t looking at you. his eyes were fixed ahead, his body language relaxed but somehow purposeful. the way he sat, still and attentive without being intrusive, made your heart ache a little.

“hey,” taehyun spoke, his voice quiet but steady, breaking the silence at last. “i’m not one to pry, but i know something’s bothering you. you’ve been off all day. and i know it’s not just your knee.”

you flinched slightly at his words, feeling as though you’d been caught in something you hadn’t been ready to face. his gaze still didn’t shift toward you, but you could feel the weight of his observation, like he had noticed the cracks you were trying to hide.

“i don’t want to make you talk if you’re not ready,” he continued, his voice softer now, understanding. “but you can tell me, whenever you’re ready. i’ll listen. you don’t have to keep it all to yourself.”

for a moment, you didn’t say anything. you wanted to fight it, wanted to tell him that everything was fine, but deep down, you knew it wasn’t. the weight of the day felt too heavy to keep it inside any longer, too much to carry alone. your fingers dug into the sand, your gaze fixed ahead as you slowly exhaled, the words starting to tumble out before you could stop them.

“it’s... i don’t even know what happened today. everything felt wrong.” you paused, swallowing hard, fighting the lump in your throat. “i ruined everything. beomgyu’s day, the whole trip, maybe even his vacation. i woke up late, i dropped the bag, the keys, the traffic—just... everything went wrong.”

taehyun didn’t interrupt, didn’t offer any words of his own. he just sat quietly, listening, his eyes soft, waiting for you to continue.

“and then when i tried to talk to him,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “he wouldn’t reply, wouldn’t speak—wouldn’t even look at me or acknowledge my presence. i-i don’t know what happened to him, why he’s this upset.. it’s like he’s a completely different person...”

you paused again, taking a shaky breath, unsure if you could say more. but taehyun stayed silent, his presence solid and grounding. you felt the dam inside you break, and the words kept spilling out, raw and vulnerable.

“i just... don’t know what to do. i feel so stupid. like i messed everything up. i’m just... so confused, taehyun. i don’t know what’s happening anymore..”

your voice cracked as the last words left your lips, and before you knew it, the tears you’d been holding back finally fell. they were quiet at first, slow and unsure, but then they came in earnest, the weight of everything you had been holding inside rushing to the surface. taehyun didn’t move, didn’t try to stop you. he just sat beside you, his presence a silent comfort as the tears continued to fall, one after another.

you continued to cry for a while, your emotions pouring out in waves as taehyun remained still beside you, offering the most peaceful presence. his quiet attention was a balm for the whirlwind of confusion in your mind. the world felt quieter, calmer, in those moments as you slowly gathered yourself.

after what felt like an eternity of silence, you felt him inch closer, his warmth pressing against your side. before you could even process it, taehyun’s arm gently wrapped around you, pulling you a little closer into his comforting hold. the steady rise and fall of his chest as he exhaled a soft sigh felt like a silent reassurance, and you allowed yourself to lean into him, letting the tears subside, even if only slightly.

“you know,” he said after a while, his voice still quiet but laced with a hint of frustration, “beomgyu’s really stupid sometimes.”

you blinked, a surprised chuckle escaping your lips, despite the lingering heaviness in your chest. it was a small thing, but hearing taehyun say that with such absolute conviction made something lighten inside of you.

taehyun’s arm tightened slightly around your shoulders, pulling you in a little closer. “honestly,” he continued, his tone softer now, “he’s been a mess today, but that’s on him, not you.” he paused, his voice becoming more serious, his next words carrying weight. “you didn’t do anything wrong. you didn’t deserve to be ignored like this.”

you took a shaky breath, trying to process his words as they settled into your heart. something in you eased just a little, the weight on your chest lifting bit by bit with every reassuring word he said. taehyun’s gentle voice continued, grounding you in the moment.

“beomgyu is just... being dumb right now,” he added, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips. “he’s confused, probably about a lot of things. but you? you didn’t mess up. you didn’t ruin anything. whatever’s going on with him has nothing to do with you.”

you let out a breath, unsure whether it was a sigh of relief or just the last of your lingering frustration, but for the first time that day, you felt like you were starting to understand that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t to blame. the tears that had flowed freely before started to slow, your shoulders relaxing just a little bit as taehyun’s words sunk in.

“i’m serious,” he said, sensing the shift in you, his voice quiet but strong. “don’t let him make you feel like you’ve done something wrong. you’re not stupid, and you’re definitely not the reason everything is ‘messed up’. nothing is. don’t let him make you doubt yourself, okay?”

you nodded slowly, letting the weight of his reassurance sink in. the emotions were still there, but somehow they didn’t feel as overwhelming anymore. “thanks, taehyun,” you whispered, your voice hoarse but filled with gratitude. “i really needed that.”

he squeezed your shoulder gently, offering a small but knowing smile, the kind that spoke volumes more than words ever could. “of course,” he murmured, and you could feel the sincerity in his words. “i’ll always be here. we all are. and i know things will get better. you’ll both figure it out, i’m sure.”

you felt a small comfort in the warmth of his embrace, the world outside still moving, but for now, the storm inside you seemed quieter, more manageable. and for the first time in hours, you allowed yourself a deep breath. maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.

on the beach house itself, however, the atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension.

as the others made their way to the kitchen, their chatter was quieter, as though they, too, felt the weight of the day. beomgyu stood near the window, his gaze fixed on the scene outside, where you and taehyun remained on the beach, your figures small and distant. even from this far away, he could see the way your shoulders would shake every now and then, the subtle movements that were impossible to miss. it was clear—you were crying.

the realization hit him like a slap in the face, hard and unrelenting. his chest tightened painfully at the sight. it felt like every breath he took was too shallow, his thoughts jumbled and chaotic as he tried to process what he was seeing. his heart tugged, a part of him wanting to rush out and hold you, but the other part, the part that had been pushing you away, made him hesitate. it was as if his body refused to move, as if a thousand thoughts had become a wall he couldn’t break through.

he had ignored you, shut you out, given you the silence treatment because he didn’t know what else to do. he didn’t know how to fix what was broken, didn’t know how to address the emotions that were spiraling within him. the more he looked at you, the more he realized how badly he had hurt you. the more he understood that his actions—his coldness—had done something irreversible, something that weighed heavier than he could bear. yet, here he was, paralyzed by his own guilt, unable to take the first step.

beomgyu exhaled sharply. everything felt wrong. he was trapped in this self-imposed silence, suffocating under the weight of unspoken words and broken promises. the tension in his body only grew as the minutes ticked by, each one a reminder of how much he had pushed you away, how much he had failed you. the sight of your quiet sorrow only made it worse, pulling at him in ways he couldn’t describe, stirring up a familiar ache in his chest.

yeonjun, kai, and soobin stood a few feet away, the noise of their voices low as they exchanged glances. they’d all noticed by now—the tension between you and beomgyu, the coldness he’d wrapped around himself, and how it had been slowly unraveling everything. soobin, who had already voiced his concerns towards beomgyu earlier, was the first to make a move.

his gaze flicked toward yeonjun and kai, his expression unreadable, but the stern set of his jaw said it all. without a word, soobin gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod in beomgyu's direction, a clear signal to the two. they understood immediately, exchanging a brief, hesitant glance before they both began moving toward him, their steps slow but deliberate.

as they approached him, there was an air of uncertainty, a silent understanding that this wasn’t just any conversation. this was something that needed to happen, something that would either tear everything open or start to mend the cracks that had appeared. beomgyu didn’t move, didn’t look at them. his gaze stayed locked on the beach, on you.

“beomgyu,” kai’s voice was soft, but it still cut through the heavy silence. it was rare to hear kai speak with such restraint, but even he understood the weight of the situation. “you need to talk to her.”

beomgyu’s jaw clenched tighter at the sound of kai’s voice, but he didn’t respond. he couldn’t. he was scared—scared of the mess he had created, of how everything between you two had become so tangled. every time he thought about facing you, about explaining himself, it felt like the words would choke him, twist his insides until he was paralyzed by his own guilt.

yeonjun’s expression softened as he stood next to kai, his usual teasing tone replaced by something more serious. “dude,” he said quietly, “we’ve all been watching. we’ve all seen it. and honestly? you’re being incredibly unreasonable.” he paused, his eyes searching beomgyu’s face. “what are you doing? why are you doing this?”

beomgyu felt his throat tighten at yeonjun’s words, the weight of the accusation hanging between them. it was impossible to ignore, impossible to push away. his silence felt like a hundred-pound weight sitting on his chest, and the more they spoke, the more it felt like he was suffocating.

“you’re being an idiot,” kai added bluntly, though his tone lacked any real malice. it was more like frustration, the frustration of seeing something so unnecessary happening to someone who didn’t deserve it. “you’re hurting her, man. and you’re not helping yourself either.”

the words, though harsh, cut through the fog in beomgyu’s mind. the truth, as much as he hated to admit it, was undeniable. he wasn’t just hurting you—he was hurting himself too. every second of silence, every time he refused to look at you or speak, it felt like another nail in the coffin of whatever connection they had left.

soobin entered the scene, his footsteps purposeful but quiet as he approached the small group. he didn’t say anything at first, only glanced once more toward the window, where you were still visible on the beach sitting next to taehyun, your forms barely moving now. he saw the way beomgyu’s shoulders were stiff, his posture rigid. it was the way someone would stand if they were about to face something they couldn’t control.

finally, soobin spoke, his voice steady and calm. “i don’t know what’s going on in your head, beomgyu,” he said softly, but there was a weight to his words. “but you can’t keep doing this."

beomgyu didn’t respond, didn’t move. but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something that came too late to make a difference, but it was there nonetheless—a brief flash of regret, of doubt

soobin continued, his tone unwavering. “you need to go to her. soon. before it gets worse. because, trust me, if you keep going like this... it won’t end well.”

the room fell into a tense silence. with a single, sharp exhale, beomgyu gave a subtle nod. it was barely perceptible, but it was enough. the unspoken understanding passed between them like a silent agreement—he’d make it right. not just with words, but with actions. the regret and confusion in his mind couldn’t be cleared away in a heartbeat, but he knew he had to start somewhere. and the only place to start was with you.

he didn’t say anything, his lips pressed tight in a thin line, as though words were too much for him right now. he just turned away from the window, his feet heavy as they moved across the floor, making his way to the room he shared with you as he shut the door with a soft thud.

⁺ ༄ ༝ ₊

you and taehyun made your way back to the beach house eventually, the cool evening air brushing against your skin as the last remnants of daylight disappeared, leaving behind a blanket of stars overhead. the soft crunch of the sand beneath your feet seemed almost foreign now, as if the warmth of the day had been a distant memory. taehyun had been by your side the entire walk, not saying much, but his comforting presence at least gave you a sense of peace.

as soon as you stepped inside, the warmth of the interior embraced you, and the tantalizing aroma of dinner wafted through the air, immediately drawing your attention. it smelled rich and hearty, the kind of meal that promised to chase away any lingering troubles. your stomach growled softly, a reminder of how long it had been since you’d eaten.

“smells amazing,” taehyun commented, his tone lighter than it had been earlier, and you managed a small smile in response, grateful for his presence.

your footsteps echoed faintly against the floor as you followed the scent to the dining area. your eyes widened as you took in the sight before you—a spread of dishes, each one meticulously prepared, their colors vibrant under the warm glow of the dining room lights. soobin had outdone himself, his efforts evident in the careful presentation.

“wow,” you murmured, unable to hide your amazement. the table was set with an inviting warmth, the kind that made you momentarily forget your earlier worries. you couldn’t help but feel a small surge of gratitude for soobin’s thoughtfulness.

taehyun, ever observant, leaned in slightly. “looks like soobin poured his heart into this. we should definitely thank him.”

you nodded, but your gaze faltered as you scanned the room. the others were already seated, their chatter soft but cheerful, but there was one glaring absence.

your heart sank slightly as you realized beomgyu wasn’t there.

you felt a sharp pang in your chest at the sight of the empty seat beside yours, the place where he usually sat, his energy always so close and comforting. there was a noticeable emptiness, as if the room had lost some of its warmth in his absence. despite the food before you, the flicker of hunger quickly died in your throat, replaced by a quiet, gnawing concern.

you hesitated for a moment, your fingers curling around the edge of the table as you glanced at the empty seat beside yours. the question weighed on your mind, and though you tried to push it down, it slipped out before you could stop it.

“where’s beomgyu?”

the chatter around the table quieted instantly. your question hung in the air, and you couldn’t ignore the way everyone seemed to tense up. yeonjun looked away, soobin’s jaw tightened, and taehyun’s eyes flickered to kai, who was the first to break the silence.

“he’s in your shared room,” kai said softly, his tone unusually serious once again.

the words caught you off guard. “in our room…?” you echoed, blinking in surprise.

kai nodded, leaning back in his chair. “yeah. he’s probably… reflecting or something.”

your brow furrowed at the term. “reflecting?”

taehyun shifted in his seat, crossing his arms as he leaned toward you. “we agreed that they’d talk to him earlier when i went to you,” he said gently.

you froze, staring at him as the weight of his words settled. “you... talked to him?”

yeonjun cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable but speaking up. “we didn’t mean to interfere or anything, but it was getting hard to watch both of you like this. something had to be said.”

you frowned, your emotions swirling between surprise, frustration, and gratitude. “you didn’t have to do that,” you said softly, your voice tinged with hesitation. “this is between beomgyu and me. we can handle it..”

soobin, ever calm and composed, leaned forward slightly, meeting your eyes. “we know it’s not our place, but we care about you both,” he said quietly. “we just wanted to help. he needed to hear it, even if he didn’t want to.”

yeonjun offered a lopsided grin, trying to lighten the mood. “trust me, it wasn’t easy. he’s stubborn as hell.”

your lips twitched, but the heaviness in your chest lingered. “i appreciate it,” you said after a moment, your voice soft but sincere. “truly. i just... i hope he’s okay.”

taehyun placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch reassuring. “he’s okay. but more importantly, he’ll listen to you now.”

you nodded slowly, the knot in your stomach loosening slightly. as much as you wanted to be against their intervention, you couldn’t deny that their intentions were rooted in care.

you lingered for a moment, glancing toward the hallway where your shared room lay, your thoughts drifting to beomgyu. your fingers fidgeted at your sides as the urge to go to him began to creep in. but before you could act on it, soobin’s calm voice cut through the silence.

“let him be for now,” he said gently, his tone firm but understanding.

you turned to him, your brows furrowing slightly. “but—”

“trust me,” soobin interrupted, his eyes soft but resolute as he met your gaze. “he needs this time to sort through his thoughts. he’ll come around, i promise. just give him a little more time.”

his words held a quiet assurance, one that made you pause. you wanted to argue, to insist that you should go to beomgyu, but there was something in soobin’s expression that made you stop. he wasn’t just asking for patience—he was promising that things would be okay.

“it’ll all be well soon,” he added, his lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. “just... trust us on this one, okay?”

you hesitated, the knot in your chest still tight, but you nodded eventually. “okay,” you murmured, your voice soft and unsure.

“good.” soobin leaned back in his chair, the tension in the room easing just slightly. “now let’s eat. we all need it after today.”

taehyun gave you a small nudge, his expression encouraging as he gestured toward the table. “he’s right. come on, the food’s going to get cold.”

with a deep breath, you let the conversation drop, forcing yourself to push the thoughts of beomgyu aside for now. you sat properly now, though the empty one beside you still felt like a glaring reminder of his absence.

the others quickly tried to lighten the mood, yeonjun cracking jokes and kai chiming in with his usual enthusiasm. taehyun even slid a plate closer to you, quietly encouraging you to eat. it was comforting, in a way, their effort to bring some normalcy back to the evening.

you picked at the food at first, your appetite still dulled by the weight in your chest. but slowly, as the chatter and laughter around the table grew louder, you found yourself relaxing just a little. their presence, their warmth—it reminded you that even in the moments that felt the most uncertain, you weren’t truly alone.

after dinner, the tension that had lingered in the air slowly began to dissipate, replaced by the warm hum of laughter and the shuffle of chairs being pushed back. kai was the first to propose moving to the living room, his excitement contagious as he waved a deck of cards in the air.

“come on, let’s play something!” he exclaimed, already halfway to the couch. “we can’t let the night end on a sour note.”

the others followed suit, yeonjun dragging soobin into the fray with a teasing grin. “you’re not escaping this time, soobin. you’re playing, and i’m making sure you lose.”

soobin only rolled his eyes but didn’t resist, letting himself be pulled along. taehyun gave you a small smile and a nudge toward the living room, his way of silently encouraging you to join in.

you settled onto the plush couch, the warmth of the evening slowly seeping into your chest as the group gathered around the coffee table. taehyun shuffled cards with practiced ease, declaring an intense game of spoons to start things off. the rules were simple, but the chaos that ensued was anything but.

yeonjun, ever the competitive spirit, lunged for a spoon with such determination that he nearly toppled the coffee table, earning an exasperated groan from soobin and uncontrollable laughter from kai. taehyun played with a quiet sharpness, his keen eyes missing nothing as he slyly slid a spoon toward himself without anyone noticing—until yeonjun loudly accused him of cheating.

you found yourself laughing despite the lingering weight in your chest, the absurdity of the game and the sheer joy of the others pulling you into the moment. even as the games switched from spoons to charades to a chaotic attempt at pictionary, the energy in the room never wavered.

soobin surprised everyone with his artistic skills, sketching a near-perfect dolphin in record time, earning cheers and a round of applause as kai dramatically declared him the “reincarnation of michelangelo.”

yeonjun, on the other hand, picked up the marker with a smirk, muttering, “watch and learn.”

what followed was... indescribable.

random squiggles and crooked shapes filled the board, resembling nothing remotely earthly. taehyun stared at it, his head tilting so far to the side it looked like it might fall off. “is it... a pan? no, wait—a pan with wings? on fire?” kai choked on his drink, wheezing.,“it’s clearly a chicken trying to do push-ups!”

yeonjun threw the marker down dramatically, offended. “it’s a swan! an elegant swan!” the room erupted into chaos as taehyun deadpanned, “if that’s a swan, then i’m a toaster.”

yeonjun then glared at him. “you wouldn’t know art if it hit you in the face.” soobin clapped him on the back, barely containing his laughter. “don’t worry, i think picasso started somewhere like this too.”

to regain his dignity, yeonjun took charge during charades, his exaggerated gestures and deadpan expressions turning even the most mundane prompts into comedic gold. when it was your turn, everyone gave you an encouraging pat on the back, and though your performance was awkward at best, the others cheered you on like you were a professional.

as the hours stretched on, the room seemed to glow with an easy warmth. the day’s earlier tensions felt like a distant memory, replaced by the gentle buzz of bliss. you caught yourself smiling more than once, the sound of laughter ringing in your ears like a comforting melody.

despite everything, despite the heaviness that still lingered in your heart, this moment felt like a reminder that not all was lost. the people around you—your friends—had a way of grounding you, of bringing you back to the surface even when you felt like you were drowning. and for that, you were grateful.

still, as the games wound down and the group began to drift into quieter conversations, your thoughts inevitably wandered back to beomgyu. you couldn’t help but wonder if he could hear the laughter from your shared room, if he was thinking about joining you—or if he was still lost in whatever thoughts had kept him away.

eventually, once the games finally wounded down and the house was filled with yawns and stretching arms, everyone decided it was time to get some much-needed shut-eye. the lingering laughter and teasing from earlier still echoed faintly in the air as they began to disperse, each making their way to the bathrooms to wash up before heading to their respective rooms.

you stood near the hallway, your gaze flickering towards the door leading to your shared room with beomgyu. your fingers fidgeted at your sides, hesitation written all over your face. the thought of facing him after everything earlier made your chest tighten, and no amount of deep breathing seemed to help.

you were so lost in your thoughts that you barely noticed kai approaching, his ever-observant gaze soft but curious.

“hey,” he called gently, pulling your attention back to him. his smile was small, but it held the warmth that only kai could muster after such a long day. “everything okay?”

you hesitated for a moment before nodding, though it wasn’t very convincing. kai raised an eyebrow, his head tilting slightly as he looked toward the hallway and then back at you.

“if it’s... you know, about beomgyu,” he began carefully, scratching the back of his head, “you don’t have to worry about it tonight. if you’re not ready to go back to the room, you can crash with me for now.”

your eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by his offer. “kai, it’s really not—”

he cut you off with a wave of his hand. “seriously, it’s no big deal. we can build a pillow fortress or something if that makes you feel better.” his attempt at lightening the mood made you chuckle softly, though the weight in your chest didn’t fully lift.

“are you sure?” you asked hesitantly, glancing back towards the door again.

kai smiled reassuringly, his tone gentle. “absolutely. i get it. you both need time, and that’s okay. plus, i’m great company—so, win-win.”

his easy demeanor brought you some comfort, and you finally gave him a small nod. “thank you, kai. really.” you said softly, feeling a small wave of relief wash over you.

“of course,” he replied, already starting toward his room. “come on, i’ll even let you pick the good side of the bed. just don’t hog the blanket.”

you couldn’t help but laugh lightly as you followed him, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly with every step.

you and kai finally settled into the bed, the room bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. he was already settling in, pulling the blanket over himself with a satisfied hum, then exchanged quiet goodnights before turning off the lights. the atmosphere was cozy, and kai, ever the optimist, was out like a light almost immediately, his soft, steady breathing filling the silence.

but you? sleep was a distant, unreachable thing. you tried everything—counting sheep, imagining the soft, fluffy creatures hopping over a fence in a rhythm that should’ve lulled you to sleep. you squeezed your eyes shut tighter, willing yourself to fall asleep the way you had done countless times before. but nothing. the tension in your muscles only grew, each passing minute reminding you of the nagging feeling in your chest.

beomgyu’s face flashed in your mind, his absence from dinner, his silence, the distance between you two growing with each passing moment. the memory of him standing by the bed, his back to you, unwilling to look at you—it all swirled in your mind, gnawing at you. why couldn’t you just get a moment of peace?

the clock on the bedside table ticked on, the minutes slipping by like sand through your fingers. finally, with a frustrated sigh, you threw the blanket off and sat up. you glanced at kai, whose steady breathing confirmed that he was already in deep sleep. he looked peaceful, and you envied him for it.

you didn’t want to wake him, so you slipped out of bed as quietly as you could, your bare feet making no sound on the cool wooden floor. the hallway stretched before you in the dim light, but your mind was focused solely on the beach, on the calming waves that might help settle the restlessness inside you. without a second thought, you crept toward the door, pulling it open with just enough force to make it creak slightly, before stepping into the hallway.

the cool night air hit your skin as you made your way down the stairs, the house silent except for the occasional sound of the waves crashing against the shore. it felt like you were walking through a dream—disconnected, lost in the quiet hum of your own thoughts. your bare feet padded lightly across the floor as you headed toward the back door, eager to breathe in the fresh night air and clear your mind.

what you didn’t notice, though, was the door to your shared room, slightly ajar.

⁺ ༄ ༝ ₊

the cool night air whipped against your face as you walked along the shore, the vastness of the ocean stretching endlessly before you. each step you took in the sand felt heavier, weighed down by the swirling thoughts in your mind. the rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore barely registered in your ears—everything felt distant, detached, as if you were moving through a dream that refused to let you wake up.

the cold water occasionally kissed your feet, sending a small shock up your legs, but it did nothing to calm the storm within you. your mind raced through everything that had happened. you replayed beomgyu’s face over and over in your head, the way he had looked past you earlier, the silence that had screamed louder than any words.

you remembered the conversation you once had with him, how he had playfully mentioned walking along the beach together, hand in hand, feeling the cool breeze against your faces as you admired the view together. it felt like a lifetime ago, a dream that might never come true now. and as the waves gently lapped at your feet, you couldn't help but wonder if you'd ever get to experience that with him again.

if only you hadn't messed things up. you could’ve been there beside him, laughing, talking, enjoying the day like you once did. the thought gnawed at you—how you could have just kept things normal, kept things easy. but now, you were here, walking alone under the starry sky, your heart feeling as empty as the space between you and him.

the guilt was suffocating. the frustration was unbearable. and yet, you had the audacity to have fun earlier, to laugh with the others, to pretend that everything was fine when you knew it wasn’t. it was almost sickening, the way you'd managed to distract yourself from the tension that had been building all day, as though you could bury it beneath everything else.

another sigh left your lips, bitter and resigned, as you turned to head back. you didn't know what you were hoping for, but the weight in your chest seemed too heavy to carry any longer.

but just as you took a step, something stopped you. a figure in the distance, standing in the shadows of the night, caught your eye. your heart skipped a beat, and the air in your lungs caught as you realized who it was.

beomgyu.

the moonlight bathed the beach in a soft, silvery glow, casting long shadows across the sand as you stood frozen in place. your heart thudded in your chest, louder than the waves crashing against the shore, as you stared at him. his form was barely a silhouette in the dim light, but the recognition hit you instantly.

he stood there, watching you. his eyes were soft yet conflicted, as though they held a thousand unspoken words—words that had been swallowed by the silence between you two.

beomgyu’s expression was a mix of everything—sadness, guilt, confusion, but there was something else there too, something you couldn’t quite place but felt deep in your gut. maybe it was love, buried beneath all the layers of hurt and hesitation. it made your chest ache.

the two of you stood still, separated by more than just distance, both rooted to the spot as if frozen by the weight of the moment. the space between you felt impossibly vast, like a chasm that neither of you could cross, yet neither of you was ready to leave either. you could feel your pulse in your throat, each beat a painful reminder of the distance that had grown between you, but also of the connection that still lingered, fragile and delicate, like the threads of a half-forgotten dream.

your throat tightened, your eyes threatening to spill over with emotions you couldn’t name, let alone express. you wanted to say something, anything to break the tension, but no words came. all you could do was stand there, lost in the storm of your own feelings, wondering if he felt the same.

beomgyu shifted slightly, his gaze dropping for a moment as he seemed to gather himself, but then his eyes lifted to meet yours again, filled with vulnerability and something deeper. you could see it in the way his shoulders were slumped, the way he stood slightly apart from you—he was trying to give you space, but it was clear he wasn’t sure how to bridge the gap.

eventually, it was beomgyu who slowly walked closer, his steps slow but certain, each one pulling him closer to you like a magnetic force, and with every inch of distance closed, your heart seemed to pound harder. it was like the world around you faded into the background, leaving only the two of you standing there in the quiet, still night. the gentle crash of the waves against the shore was the only sound, a calming contrast to the rapid thrum of your heartbeat.

you stood there, frozen, eyes locked on him, unable to tear your gaze away. his face was unreadable, but the tension in his posture told you everything you needed to know. every muscle in his body seemed tight, coiled with the same uncertainty and pain that was flooding your own chest. his eyes, too, seemed to carry a weight, a depth of feeling that you could never fully understand in this moment, but you could feel it, nonetheless.

as he came closer, the space between you shrunk, and despite the pull in your chest, you couldn't bring yourself to move. your breath hitched as he finally stopped in front of you, so close that you could feel the warmth of his presence, the closeness that you had once craved and now feared. the silence stretched, thick and heavy between you both, each of you grappling with the unspoken words that hovered in the air.

then, it happened. the sting in your eyes, the sharp prickle of tears that had been threatening to fall since the moment you realized what had happened between you two—it seemed to break something inside of beomgyu. his expression faltered just slightly, his brow furrowing as his gaze softened with what you could only describe as regret.

without a word, he slowly brought his hands up to cradle your face, his touch gentle and tentative, as if afraid you might shatter under his fingertips. the warmth of his hands against your skin was a stark contrast to the cold night air, grounding you in this moment.

the contact was the final straw. the dam you had been holding back for so long finally broke, and you couldn't hold it in any longer. a sob escaped your lips, raw and unrestrained, as the tears you've been holding back for so long finally spilled over. your body trembled with the force of your emotions, and you leaned into his touch, seeking comfort in the only place you felt safe.

beomgyu's heart ached at the sight of your tears, his own emotions mirroring yours. he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you, offering the warmth and solace you so desperately needed. his voice was barely a whisper as he spoke, his words laced with guilt and sorrow.

“i... i’m so sorry,” he stuttered, his voice breaking on the words, his lips trembling. “god, i… i didn’t mean to hurt you. i don’t know what happened to me. i... i just—i let everything get to me, and i took it out on you... and you didn’t deserve that. you didn’t deserve any of it.”

his breath was shaky, his words coming in broken, gasping bursts, like he was choking on his own guilt. “i-i shouldn’t have snapped at you over something so stupid... over your bag... and the keys... i’m an idiot. it was... it was nothing, but i made it everything, and you—you didn’t deserve that. you were just... just trying to help me, and i... i just pushed you away... i never should’ve done that.”

his hands tightened on your face, like he was trying to ground himself in you, as if he could somehow make the broken pieces of this moment come back together if he just held on tight enough.

“i... i shouldn’t have ignored you. you tried... you tried to talk to me, to fix things, and i just... i just shut you out. i made you feel like you weren’t worth talking to. i’m so sorry. i don’t even know what was going on in my head... i don’t know why i thought... i thought i could just pretend it didn’t matter... but it does. it all matters... you matter. so, so much. i’m sorry...” his voice cracked on the last word, the sorrow in his eyes so evident that it seemed to drown everything else out.

he swallowed thickly, and for a moment, he was quiet, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his breaths. his fingers trembled where they still rested on your face, as though he was afraid you might pull away, afraid of how much he’d already messed up. when he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper, like he couldn’t bring himself to say it any louder for fear of the truth becoming too real.

“when you hurt yourself... i... i didn’t even think to check on you. i should’ve been the first one to run to you, to help you, but i didn’t. i didn’t do anything. i just stood there. i-i don’t even know what was wrong with me.”

his eyes shut tight, like the guilt was physically overwhelming him, and he bowed his head, his shoulders trembling. “i... i just let you down. again and again. i don’t... i don’t deserve your forgiveness. i... i don’t even deserve to stand here and tell you this, but i… i apologize. i... i need you to know how deeply sorry i am.”

he lifted his head then, his eyes full of unshed tears that he refused to let fall, as if letting them go would make him even more broken than he already felt. “please, just... please believe me. i swear... i swear i’ll spend every day showing you how sorry i am. i’ll do whatever it takes... i just want you to know how much you mean to me. you’re the most important person in my life. and i... i don’t want to lose you over something so stupid. please, please don’t let me lose you...”

his words came out in broken, frantic sobs, the sincerity of his apology almost making him seem fragile, as though this was the one thing he could never take back, and the weight of it was crushing him.

it felt like an eternity before you could finally move, but when you did, it was instinctual. your hands slowly reached up, and without thinking, you cupped his face, your palms warm against his cool skin. the touch was soft, tender, but it was enough to make him tremble more. he flinched at first, like he didn’t deserve to be touched by you, but then his eyes met yours, wide and vulnerable, as if he were searching for something—some reassurance, some sign that everything would be okay.

his breath hitched, and that was when the he broke. beomgyu’s tears finally came, slipping down his cheeks like a silent waterfall, each drop a reflection of all the pain and regret he had been carrying inside. the sight of him, so raw and fragile, made your chest tighten, and despite the tears that still clung to your own lashes, you couldn’t help but giggle softly, through your hiccups and sobs.

“took you long enough,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, your words coming out between sobs. “you really are so stubborn, beomgyu...”

he was shaking now, his body wracked with sobs that he couldn’t hold back any longer, and even though the tears clouded his eyes, he managed to offer a weak, teary smile in return. it was bittersweet, like he was relieved, but still crushed by the weight of everything.

you couldn’t help but chuckle softly through your tears. “you know, you still look so pretty even when you’re crying,” you said between sniffs, the words slipping out before you could stop them. it was a little joke, a way to break the tension, to make everything feel just a little less broken in this moment.

he laughed softly, though it was shaky and unsure, and for a fleeting second, it almost felt like the world wasn’t heavy anymore. his eyes softened as he leaned into your touch, pressing his cheeks gently against your palms.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispered again, his voice still thick with emotion but softer now, like he was slowly coming back to himself, like your presence was pulling him back from the edge of his despair. his words hung in the air, raw and broken, and before you could process them fully, beomgyu moved.

in one swift motion, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him with a desperation that left no room for hesitation. the force of his embrace made you stumble slightly, but you quickly steadied yourself, your hands instinctively finding their place against his back.

his body was tense at first, his arms gripping you tightly as though he was afraid you might slip away if he loosened his hold even slightly. but then, you felt it—the moment his resolve crumbled. his body sagged against yours, melting into your touch like he’d been holding himself together by a thread, and it had finally snapped.

he buried his face into your shoulder, his breaths shallow and uneven as they fanned against your skin. the warmth of his tears soaked through the fabric of your shirt, but you didn’t care. his trembling shoulders and the way his fingers dug gently into your back spoke louder than any words could.

neither of you said anything, the silence broken only by the rhythmic crash of the waves and the unsteady sound of his breathing. his arms tightened around you, clutching you like you were the only thing tethering him to reality, and your heart ached at how fragile he felt in your grasp.

you brought your hands up to his back, letting them move in slow, soothing motions, as if you could calm the storm raging inside him. “it’s okay,” you whispered softly, though your own voice wavered under the weight of your emotions.

“it’s not,” he choked out, his voice muffled against your shoulder. “it’s not okay. i don’t deserve you… i don’t…” his voice cracked, breaking into a soft sob that shook his entire frame.

“shh,” you murmured, your fingers threading gently into his hair, trying to comfort him even as your own tears began to sting at the corners of your eyes.

he clung to you for what felt like an eternity, the world fading away until it was just the two of you standing there in the quiet night. eventually, his trembling subsided, though his grip on you remained firm, as if letting go was something he wasn’t ready to face.

when he finally pulled back, it was slow and reluctant, his arms lingering around you as if to reassure himself that you were still there. his eyes, red-rimmed and glossy with unshed tears, met yours, and the sight made your chest tighten all over again.

finally, you spoke, your voice soft but steady. “gyu,” you called gently, drawing his red-rimmed eyes up to meet yours. “do you swear to never do this again? to never shut me out like that?”

his lips quivered, and his brows furrowed as fresh tears gathered in his eyes. “i swear,” he choked out, his voice cracking with emotion. “i’ll never do it again. never. i promise... i swear on everything. i’ll never hurt you like this again. please... please believe me.”

his words were frantic, tumbling out in a desperate rush as he sobbed, shaking his head like he was trying to shake off the memory of his own mistakes. you let his words settle in the air, watching him closely, his sincerity shining through the tears streaming down his face.

then, after a beat, you offered him a small, watery smile. “then... will you walk the beach with me and collect seashells?”

his sobs hitched, and for a moment, he stared at you like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. his lips parted slightly, his expression shifting into something softer, something almost hopeful. he sniffled, his tears still falling, but he nodded quickly, like he was scared you’d take the offer back if he didn’t respond fast enough.

“y-yeah,” he stammered, his voice cracking as he sniffed again, wiping at his cheeks with the back of his hand. “i... i’ll walk with you. we can collect seashells. whatever you want. anything you want.”

his earnestness, the way he nodded so quickly despite his tears, made your smile grow a little, even as your own tears still clung to your lashes. in that moment, the weight in your chest seemed to ease, like a knot slowly unraveling with each shaky breath the two of you shared.

you wiped at your cheeks, a quiet laugh slipping past your lips as the corners of his mouth twitched upward, his sniffles softening into something that almost resembled relief. for the first time all day, the tension between you felt lighter—fragile, yes, but no longer suffocating.

and as you reached out, your fingers brushing gently against his arm before slipping down to take his hand, you felt the faintest squeeze in return, like he was anchoring himself to you. together, you could face whatever came next, one step at a time. for now, though, the promise of seashells and the gentle rhythm of the waves felt like the perfect place to begin.

taglist! @pagelets, @jettithink, @killa-1009, @j-ji-jia, @frankghgr, @dawngyu @usuallyunlikelyfox @sxmmerberries <3 (click here if you want to be added! ^^)

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hyukascampfire · 1 month ago

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GIFT WRAPPING ﹒ ､､ c.sb

it’s a shame that soobin has to work on christmas eve, but coming home to a fire-toasted home and his little family is enough to make up for it. ˒´-

꣑ ࣪˒ 〈 🌰 〉･ 3.4k

ρairings ˒ husband!soobin x reader

ɠ ; smut ˒ fluff

ωarnings ˒ breeding kink, soobin rlly wants to get reader pregnant, lactation kink, general smut, traditional roles, tradwife reader, whiny soobin, breast fondling, mentions of balls cause i know how some people feel abt that, they’re both whiny for each other, soobin’s big, and lmk if i missed anything!

✎୭ ashlynn's note this one’s at the request of my lovely @biteyoubiteme! i love you baby, and could not thank u more for giving me this gift. this was the best gift i could’ve gotten for christmas >.<‘ but yes, since we are always giggling over dad!txt, this one i dedicate to u!!!

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

The best thing you’ve heard today is the jingling of keys at the front door.

Soobin comes through the door with heavy, tired eyes. When the kids come tumbling down the hallway for him, they soften into something warm. Lifting one to pepper kisses over her face, and listening to the other tattle about something that’d happened earlier, his mouth tugs into a gentle smile.

Dusting powdered sugar off your hands, you wait your turn. The scene falls over you like a dryer-warmed blanket. All you three had done today was wait for him to come home. When finally it’s you that he turns to, your heart flickers.

The Christmas tree is up and in a stand, but it’s bare. You didn’t want to decorate it without him, as much as he told you he wouldn’t mind if you and the kids did. It’s not every Christmas eve that he works, but he’d been scheduled this year. You’d spent the whole day rolling out dough and slipping the kids some, even though you knew the sugar would wind them up, just to make the house feel less empty.

And, wind them up it did. You took them outside, bundled up in thick cashmeres and puffy jackets, at one point, hoping they might work some of it out in the fluffy snow that’d fallen fresh on yesterday. It hadn’t worked, but watching them with pink cheeks and giggling was worth the while. Then, the three of you drug snow-wetted feet indoors to defrost, tugging off layers to accept the tingle of warm air against your numb skin.

You wish he was there, too, though.

Soobin reaches up to pull his tie loose from his neck as he comes to give you your greetings. He just manages to get it loose before taking your lips against his.

With his hands steadying you by the hips and the counter at your back, you sigh out a soft breath. Your lips speak of your longing—the both of you. Slow and intimate tugging of lips and soothing, your lashes dust against your cheeks. He tastes like some peppermint candy he’d probably picked up on the way out of the office. Fingers still a bit cold from outside, he brings one hand up and cups your cheek, brushing a thumb up and down the flushed skin there.

He smiles against your mouth and parts from you only to sprinkle sugary kisses over your face. They fall everywhere: a few over your cheeks, one just beside your mouth, and the last to your forehead. He cups your cheeks through each. When he pulls back and you think he’s done, he steals a quick peck for good measure. His hot-chocolate eyes catch yours once he’s done for real, nose crinkling.

“Hi, baby,” he says. Your heart sings listening to his smooth timbre. It resonates through you and brushes down every last frayed nerve. “How did home treat you?”

You reach behind yourself to tug your apron off. It’s a mess of flour and stray buttercream icing. “It’s Christmas eve,” you tell him. That’s answer enough. “How was work? Did you have a good day?” you say, smoothing your hands over the knitted sweater you’d swiped from his drawer. “We missed you.”

His chest is like home against your back as he wraps you up in his frame. “Doesn’t matter; I’m home now. It’s a good day.” He murmurs his words into your hair. “Mmm. You smell good. Are all these cookies for me?”

“You know who they’re for,” you say. The smile on your mouth is light and fluffy, like whipped cream. Sweet. You’d waited all day for this—for him.

His arms encompass you, wrapped across your front like ribbons over a present. You can hear the lazy smile in his words. “Were you baking all day waiting for me, beautiful?”

With the weight and warmth of him against you, you let your head fall back on his chest. You hum. “I missed you so bad,” you say.

“I know,” he says. Pressing a toasty kiss right into your neck where it’s bared to him, he adds, “I missed you too. Wish I was able to spend the whole day with you guys, not paperwork. But, it’s okay. I had my pretty wife here waiting for me.” Toward the tail-end, he hangs sweet suggestion over his words.

Your cheeks go pink. Maybe you’ve got the heater up too high. It’s not usually this hard waiting for him to get home from work. You’ll usually be busy with your own stuff, so that time passes you by fast enough. And then, he’ll come home all tired, and you’ll finally get the kids to sleep and he’ll make slow, sweet love to you, and then the whole household goes quiet as you all knock out. But today... you found yourself missing him more. On Christmas eve, you’re all supposed to be together; spending the day sprawled over the couch with intertwined limbs and running through Christmas classics with bellies full of hot chocolate and candy canes.

But, he’s here now. That’s all you can ask for. A full, content home.

“The kids want to do the tree,” you say, curling your fingers over the warm skin of his forearm where he’s bunched the cuffs of his button-up to his elbows. “They waited very patiently all day.” You drag the word all out, because really... it’d felt just as long to you. Usually, you’d have had your tree up and laced with twinkling lights and ornaments two weeks ago, but you really wanted to wait until you could do it all together.

“Well,” he says, leaving you with one last nip to the column of your neck before dragging himself off you. You miss the security of his arms almost pathetically quick. “Let’s get it decorated, then. Wouldn’t want to make you guys wait any longer.”

Soobin departs to find the tubs of Christmas stuff, and you go to pull the kids from their playing.

You can hardly help the excited little smile that finds its way to your mouth as you do.

❅

The lights on the tree wink at you, a cozy warm white like ice crystals among green pine needles. Its branches dip under the weight of heavier bulbs. Starry silver and Santa red, and even those assorted ornaments that you’d let the kids pick out, shimmer in the low light. It’s serene and familiar, like the Christmases that you can only relive through orange, flickering memories of better times. Your chest aches in the good way, looking at it.

All of you had put your touch to it, but mostly, you’d sat back and watched them all work, committing it to memory so that it might never go spotty—so that you can remember it years down the road, and use it like a dose of soothing balm when you no longer have this.

Now, you and Soobin just sit and admire it. In true Christmas fashion, you two had to wrangle the kids to bed. You raised your brows at them and warned them with the same old things you’d heard on Christmas night: Santa doesn’t stop by the houses of kids who don’t sleep, and he especially doesn’t stop for kids that don’t listen to their parents. That got them, warm in their jammies, dragging their feet to bed. Reluctantly, yes. But it did the job, and now it’s just you two.

Your stomach does an excited flip as, in between his mindless smoothing over your skin, Soobin toys with the waistband of your plaid pajamas. Lifting your head from his chest, you look up at him.

“Baby,” he says, taking that hand up and under your shirt. Running the warm, calloused tips of his fingers up the plane of your belly and then just under your breast, he says, “I missed you...”

Sweet and slow, a familiar hunger kindles between your thighs just at the way he says it. You know when your doting husband needs you. Your heart tugs toward him—you need him just the same. Surrounded by the home you’ve made together, made lovely by the scent of Christmas, and in his safe arms, all you want is him.

You tug yourself up from him and the cushions, sliding yourself over his lap so that your two thighs part around his waist and your heat meets his bulge. He’s hardened there already, strained against the fabric and hard against your clothed cunt even through the layers. Sucking in a breath, he supports the small of your back with two sturdy arms.

“Missed you too, Binnie,” you mumble into his neck. You’d said it a few times already, but you think it still isn’t enough to convey what you feel. His hands come down to cup your ass, digging divots into it and pressing you into soft grinds down onto him a few times. Your skin prickles wherever he goes.

When his hands find their way back to the elastic band of your bottoms, you lift your hips and let him tug them off you. It’s an awkward position, and you have to lend him a little help with those and your panties with a snort. He presses his forehead into your shoulder, laughing too.

At a brush of your bare cunt against his cock as he frees it, stood proud between the space of you and against your belly, your smile gives way to soft gasp. The tip of him weeps with pearly beads from the slit. He takes it into his hand taps it against your bud a few times, his free hand at your back, and relishes in the twitching of your hips above him.

With the warmth of his cock lined up with you, he pushes some of your hair out of your face and says, “Hate having to wait all day to see my pretty girl...” His chocolate eyes dart up and down between the sight of you just about to join bodies and your face.

Sinking down on him, letting yourself feel every inch of him anew, you hum agreement. You nestle him all the way down until the tip of him brushes just before the end of your depth, and then you give your hips a few rolls to let your insides adjust to his cock. Soobin’s big—no matter how many times you take him, it’s still a stretch. He doesn’t mind the wait; he sits patiently for you to adjust each time, running his hands up and down your hips just to touch you.

You dig your knees into the cushions and lift yourself off his cock. You let him slip all the way up until the flared tip of him threatens to pop out, letting the moment linger there for a moment before dropping back down on him. His shoulders take the blunt of your weight as you fuck yourself up and down him. “I...wish you didn’t have to work that stupid job...” Your voice permeates the air, above the crackle of the fireplace and the soft smacks of your skin against his.

His fingers dig into the soft curve of your waist where your shirt bunches. Each time you push yourself up, he helps, the corded muscles of his forearms twisting. It’s an intimate dance that the two of you have practiced and mastered, knowing when to give and to take without even the need for words. “I know,” he says, his voice taut. “But... I’m here now, baby. I’m here now. I’ll give you anything you want.”

Your chest feels full at that. You know he means it; he works so hard for you all. The couch cushions are abrasive against your knees, and your thighs burn with a terrible ache, but all that matters in this moment is how he sucks his lips into his mouth and lets his head fall back into the cushion at his back. He rocks his hips up to try and meet you. Each time you bring yourself down on him in a way that has his brow twitching or eyes screwing shut, you aim to find it again—in all of it, you hope he feels you thanking him.

Lifting his head, he tugs your shirt up to watch your tits bounce along with you. Taking his palm over one, he says, “Fuck—miss when these were all full of milk. All heavy for me...” His thumb rolls a pert nipple. Shuddering around a chill, your chest jumps against his hand.

Rather than controlled drags up and down his cock, you devolve into frantic rutting hips and whines. Each roll—back, forth, and in messy circles—nudges his twitching cock right up against that weak spot. Flame rolls in your belly and your thighs.

When you’d been pregnant, your tits had swollen up to produce milk, and they’d never gone back down. Maybe a bit, but never back to what they’d been before pregnancy. Soobin loved it. Not that he hadn’t been content with your breasts before, but you think it was more that he was fascinated that it was him who did that to you. That he had filled you with his cum, and got you round and pregnant. When you’d first started leaking, it wasn’t even you who’d realized. You had been stood in the kitchen with a flimsy grey shirt tugged over your body. When you looked up to see what your husband was up to, his eyes were all glazed over and heavy on your chest, where your shirt had gone dark and wet around your nipples. Before you could hurry off with reddened cheeks to change, he’d pinned you against the counter by the hips to suckle the mess up himself.

“Baby,” he says, voice coming from his throat a hoarse plead, “Beautiful, please, can you give me something for Christmas? Just one thing?”

Hair on your neck damp, you nod frantically. Around his waist, your thighs twitch with exertion and each blazing brush of his cockhead against your gummy walls. You’d give him anything; you’d already grown two children for him.

“You—gonna let me put another in you? Can I please get you all pregnant again?” he grits out, his hair falling out from its styling and over his rose-dusted cheeks. He looks at you heavy-lidded.

Your cunt squeezes him, an answer before you can even form the words. It does a number on you, the way he says it. Because really, you do think that to Soobin, the greatest gift you could give him is to carry his children and to just continue to love him. It’s no different for you; you want nothing more. “Yes, please... I’ll give you as many as...you want, please, just...”

The entirety of your pleading is not even out of your mouth before he’s pressing a strong arm across your back and laying you under him. The cushions accept your back lovingly.

Soobin takes a moment to situate you two. He drags you down by the hips, closer to him, tugs your shirt fully off to let it flutter to the floor elsewhere, tugging his own off in the same fashion, and he pushes your mess of hair out of your face so that he can better see you. And then, melding the bare, warmed skin of your soft chest to his own hard one, he rolls his cock up into you.

It’s slow and tender, like promises of love baked into each grind. He makes love to you in the form of open-mouthed kisses and puffs of breath fanning out over your skin when a deeper thrust has both of you shaken-limbed. In your ears, hot, he whispers filthy nothings.

“Gonna knock my pretty girl up again,” he pants. “Want—you to go around wearing me, big and round. My wife. You look so pretty pregnant... Fuck..” The skin of his chest brushes up against your hardened nipple each time he fucks himself up to you, his hands everywhere as he can’t find where he wants to hold you most. Eventually, he settles on linking his fingers with yours above your head with one hand, and the other splayed over your belly. Right where your belly might be swollen, were you pregnant once more. “Right here... can’t wait—h-oh, shit. Do you want that, baby? Want to give me another?”

Chest and belly tight, you can only manage a squeak and a nod. Through bleary eyes, you take in his face. The soft and masculine angles of his cheeks and jaw, his sweet brown eyes, his pinched brows... and all you feel is safe. Safe in his arms, safe in his love. His body cages you against the cushion, slung over you and delivering languid strokes, but you don’t feel trapped. Not one bit. In his arms, you feel untouchable. Secure beyond a doubt.

Nowhere else, with nobody else, would you rather build a family.

“Soobin, please,” you whine, welcome tears prickling at the corners of your eyes like snowmelt. “Want it so bad... I want it so bad....” Wrapping your legs around his waist, digging your heels into his lower spine, you urge him deeper.

“Okay,” he says. The smacking of your skin punctures the serene air as he picks up the pace. He lets his head fall into your shoulder, stunted breaths falling out as his belly tenses. “Okay, love. Gonna fuck you full of my cum, n’ keep it in there so I know it takes... shit, gonna give you my cum now, okay?”

Face screwed up, you try and roll yourself to meet him, to chase the tightness in your own belly, but he’s got you. With a few more hot stripes of his tongue over your tits and over your neck, and a few frantic nudges right into that spot he’s so familiar with, you go still and then break into full-body shakes. You press your mouth into his shoulder to obscure the sharp, sweet cry that comes rushing out along with your orgasm, worried about waking your sleeping kids. Your thighs twitch and shudder around him, some deep and innate part of your brain taking over through the fog to make sure he cums well and right into you. Fingers and toes curling and splaying through it, you allow yourself to fully feel the sweetness his cock gifts you with.

You don’t doubt that he’ll get you pregnant, cumming in you. Soobin’s seed is heavy and potent. He could knock you up whenever he pleased; the last two times he’d done it, you were surprised how easily it took. Your insides twist up around him harder.

“Fuck,” he half growls, half whines. “Fuck, fuck... Love you, baby... Love you so much...”

He holds you to the couch, fucking you into it as his heavy balls smack against your bottom. And then, spewing murmured expletives and taking your face into a big hand of his to press frantic kisses to your cheek, his hips stutter.

As promised, he spills his cum right into you, right where he knows it’ll reach your womb and give you just what you want. It’s hot and thick against your gummy walls. He holds you through it, taking your hips in kneading hands to hold you still. When you think he’s done rolling his hips up into you to shoot more ribbons, he grinds harder.

Soobin slumps over you, finally stilling. He does not pull out, nor unplug you, though. He wants to make sure his cum stays right where he wants it. His heart thunders a lovely song against your chest, and yours his. He runs long fingers through your hair mindlessly, the both of you basking in the slow fire as it burns through your veins and leaves you lazy.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he mumbles.

Heart fuller, you hold him closer. “We have so much wrapping to do...” you mumble, trying to blink away your content sleepiness.

He pushes himself off you just to say, “Don’t remind me.” His weight cradles you once more, running appreciative fingertips over your thighs as he says, “Just a little more.”

Who are you to deny him that? You cherish the lines of his face, all soft in the yellowish glow of the tree’s light. Here, in his arms, you let yourself forget about that and anything else but the simple love buzzing in the air.

“Just a little more,” you agree.

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

✎୭ ashlynn's note ZOOWEE MAMA!! soobin come over here, let’s recreate this for christmas! pls!

﹙📋﹚ @hmusunoo , @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @joycelyjjj , @sunoolver , @lvrs-street2mmorrow , @apeachty , @fandomtrashsblog , @bewitchless , @yezzns2 , @hhoneyhan , @ethystclove , @darkdayelixer , @calumcxke , @biteyoubiteme , @bamgeutsz , @soobabby , @little-shiny-starr , @bambammtori , @bunniebun-posted , @heeambi , @bunnisoobin , @hwanghyunjinismybae , @bakugosbottombitch , if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!

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viasdreams · 3 months ago

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── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

soobin as your loser bff !! (he want you so bad)

a/n: does this make me a loser since i just made him like all the things i like??? 😞 also bunny girl senpai being his fav anime will never not make me laugh

fake text m.list ☁︎⋅

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joysbaereal · 7 months ago

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How many likes for us to get back together???

PAIRING: Ex!Txt x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: jokingly say kys

Yeonjun and Soobin

Beomgyu and Taehyun and Hueningkai

main masterlist

☆ Im thinking of making my page more summer themed🌴☀️👙

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niningtori · 6 days ago

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the way we were before | oneshot

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: you've been in love with beomgyu for as long as you've known him. deep down, you've always thought that he loved you, too; so when he tells you that he's engaged to another woman, you decide to break it all off after a nasty fight in which he shows you just how little you mean to him. a life-ending accident seems to put your feelings to rest, for good. just when you think it's all over, however, you awaken to a time before everything fell apart; and you're determined not to repeat the same mistakes. it's just that beomgyu can't seem to let you go.

genre: ANGST (literally so much angst it's not even funny), romance, second chancelau, rebirthlau, she falls first but he falls harder, possessive!beomgyu

warnings: mcd (and rebirth), somewhat graphic depictions of death/a corpse, suicidal thoughts, you can interpret a scene at the end as somewhat suggestive but not really

word count: 12.7k

notes: this work contains a lot of angst... and that's coming from ME. this might be too sad to the point of being corny but luckily i was born on the cob. don't be mean to me tho i'm going thru it rn. feedback also means the world 2 me <3

some things are a matter of course. for example, when you were initially paired with beomgyu for a project in your senior year of college, it was a matter of course to fall in love with him. supporting him morally and emotionally while he struggled throughout the rest of the year and well into his adult career? well, that was a matter of course, too. being with him every day, spending every spare second you had with the intention to make him happy, and giving up any concept of self-preservation in exchange for even a morsel of his affection? the answer doesn’t even need to be said. through it all, you’ve suspected that all of the intimacy that you’ve nurtured will inevitably end up with you two being together, of course.

you haven’t done any of it for the outcome. truly, you haven't. you make him happy simply because it makes you happy just to see him shine. he’s always been such a bright, sunny boy, and it’s always been enough just to be the one who helps maintain his true personality. it absolutely kills you to see him hurting, so it isn’t unusual to drop everything, be it work or social events, just to give him advice, give him comfort, or even just give him company. while he certainly doesn't show his affection towards you as profusely as you do to him, you know he cares about you. you can see it in the way he notices the little things about you, and in the way he listens to you with full attentiveness, even when you have nothing particularly interesting to tell him. when everyone talks over you, he tells you that he wants to hear what you have to say. and that’s enough.

with all of this in mind, you jump at his invitation to hang out at his apartment. he’s been a little distracted lately, cancelling plans together for reasons unknown. it’s been odd, to be sure, but you know he’ll tell you whatever’s been bothering him soon enough. he always does. you greet him with takeout from his favorite restaurant in tow as a surprise, and he takes it with that smile you love so damn much. he looks a little nervous, but happy, mostly, and you don’t have to wait for very long before he clears his throat and announces that he has something important to tell you.

you try not to get your hopes up, but who can blame you for feeling a hint of anticipation? maybe he’ll finally confess his feelings to you. maybe that’s why he’s been a little weird. naturally, since your mind is racing so much with romantic hypotheticals, of course it comes as a shock to you that he simply says, “i’m getting married.”

beomgyu, notorious for never even having the time nor interest to date around, is not only dating, but engaged. your jaw drops when he tells you that it all happened so quickly, he doesn’t even know how it unfolded. all he knows is that once he met her, a whirlwind romance swept him up, and just a few months have been more than enough for him to know that she’s the one. in fact, as he so fondly declares, he knew it from the very first moment he saw her at the dinner between the company you two work for and her own. the one where you were his “date”. you knew that it wasn’t a real proclamation of love or affection for him to ask you to accompany him, but you can’t say that you weren’t beaming with pride and validation at you being his natural choice. when you arrived at the dinner, you remember some of your coworkers jokingly whispering to you to just make it official already. you spent the night mostly by his side, looking up at him in admiration and love. as it turns out, the time you spent fawning over him was equally spent with him falling in love at first sight with another woman. you weren’t even apart for very long, but apparently he met her when you two broke apart to mingle.

it’s a kick in the chest, to put it bluntly. you feel the wind being knocked out of your lungs, and you’re struggling to breathe. the first time you caught a glimpse of him, you knew that any attempts to stop yourself from falling in love with him were hopeless. his smile, his charm, his playfulness immediately had you enraptured. you’ve always, always known that he didn't have a similar experience with you, but you just assumed that he simply isn’t the type to be caught up in such childish romanticism. you've always loved him outwardly and persistently, and you've shown him that in every single way you possibly know how. you dared to hope that maybe he was just the type to quietly reciprocate. obviously, with how emphatically he’s professing his love for another woman, you were very, very wrong.

“what's the matter? aren't you happy for me?” you struggle to answer, but he continues as if he doesn’t notice. “you know, i was thinking you could be, like, my best man. i've seen people do it these days—you'd pretty much be my best woman. i really want you to do it. there's no one else i can think of to—well, actually, there's soobin, but you’re my—”

“beomgyu,” you sharply interrupt, wetness pooling in your waterlines. beomgyu may be a little emotionally slow, but he’s not stupid. you know he knows that you've had feelings for him since forever ago. while it hurts, the fact of them being unrequited isn't what really gets you; it’s the fact that he doesn’t have the decency to just tell the truth. he took advantage of your love for him, always calling for you when he needed you, without ever really doing the same for you. “what… what about us?”

“what about us? you’re my best friend, and i want you to be part of my wedding,” he says smoothly, but you level him with a watery stare. as if realization finally dawns on him, he replies in a way you sincerely did not anticipate.

“c’mon, you know i don’t see you like that,” he chuckles with a wave of his hand, and you really would’ve rathered him say literally anything else. you’d prefer it if he had just punched you in the stomach, actually, because that would feel considerably better than this… this humiliation. you’re silent for a moment before you feel the tears you’ve been struggling to keep in cascade down your face. to his credit, he has the decency to look uncomfortable, and his playful smile drops. before he can reply, however, you speak again.

“you knew how i felt about you this whole fucking time, you were just too much of a coward to be honest with me,“ you declare. “if… if you had just told me, i would’ve understood. i-i would've—you didn't have to do it this way.”

“listen, i’m sorry that you’re hurt, but i really didn’t mean—”

“are you really sorry that i’m hurt, or are you sorry that i showed you i’m hurt?” you cut in. “beomgyu, you don’t care about how i feel, just as long as you don’t have to be the one to deal with it.”

“i’m—you're being unfair. i didn't want to hurt your feelings, i just wanted us to stay friends. what's so bad about that? don't you want that?” he seems genuinely puzzled, as if he can't wrap his head around why you'd ever be indignant at the fact that he stayed friends with you mainly for his own comfort.

“jesus christ, beomgyu! a real friend would never do this. you kept me around so i’d keep helping you with work, with life, with what the fuck ever. why can't you just be honest, after all this time? just don’t lie,” you spit.

“i'm not lying! you've helped me a lot, and i'm grateful for that, but you can't expect me to just owe you my feelings,” he snaps.

“that's not what this is about, and you know it,” you tremblingly reply, dignity cut right to the bone.

“seriously? that's exactly what this is about. you're the altruistic angel who does nothing wrong, and i'm just a fucking scumbag who takes advantage of you, right? well, i'm sorry, but it's not my fault that you're acting so goddamn crazy over something so stupid.” your eyes burn with an intensity so great, it feels like they're being seared out of your skull. in this moment, you realize that he will never, ever respect you enough to consider you worthy of being leveled with. he doesn't think you're even worth the time. you're his silly, lovesick best friend who's absolutely delusional to the point of being laughable for suggesting that he actually take you seriously, for once. and that revelation breaks you like nothing else.

you won’t do this anymore. you couldn’t even if you wanted to, and you don’t.

“i never want to see you again,” you sob, and while it may seem juvenile to say, you truly mean it. before you can hear beomgyu reply, you dash out of the building and to your car.

everything is a blur when you peel out of the parking lot and onto the road. your eyes are pouring out thick, hot tears, and you try your best to swipe them away as soon as they come, but it’s difficult when they’re seemingly endless. you don’t even attempt to hold in your sobs—they’re far too deep and frequent for that. if someone were to glance at you through their window, they’d think you were absolutely insane. and maybe you are, you don’t know. maybe you’re insane for thinking that things could’ve ever been any different. maybe you were just imagining everything that seemed like confirmation that he loved you back. maybe it was all a delusion because you wanted it so fucking badly. and maybe that’s your fault.

but did he really have to crush you like this? he knew you were in in love with him. he knew you were waiting for him. he knew what he meant to you. why couldn’t he have just been honest instead of stringing you along? to ask for him to return your feelings would’ve been too much, you've always understood that to be the case; but even to the bitter end, he’ll call you crazy before he tells you the truth.

you try to keep yourself focused, but everything’s a blur with your eyes bleary with a film of tears. you have half a mind to just pull over and have a meltdown on the side of the road, but before you can do that, you hear your phone ringing. you pick it up in a frenzy, silently hoping that it’s beomgyu with an apology, but the number is unknown. you don’t even have time to feel disappointed before you look up and see that you’re barrelling past a red light. in a panic, you realize that you’re about to crash headfirst into another car. you swerve your steering wheel as hard as you can, seemingly avoiding danger, but the sight of a tree coming closer and closer into your vision paralyzes you with fear. you try to brake, but you’re going too quickly for it to be of any use.

the collision is bone-shattering in the literal sense. you’d think you’d feel adrenaline alone in such a situation, but you can feel pain bursting out of every cell of your body as you still after being thrown back and forth in your seat. every organ, every bone, feels like it’s just been crushed, and not for the first time today, you’re struggling to breathe.

as you slip out of consciousness, one immovable thought resounds in your head: i wish i'd never met him.

the sound of your alarm ringing pulls you out of the darkness. your eyes shoot open and you sit straight up in pure shock. while you pant—just trying to catch your breath—you grab your chest, clutching at your shirt as you feel your heart drumming erratically. did you survive? you scramble out of your bed and look in the mirror. there’s nothing on your face. no fresh wounds, bruises, no scars from what just happened. that can’t be right. you know you were torn up from the collision, and there’s no earthly way you came out of it unscathed. was it a dream? it can’t be; you can still feel the phantom of pain on every inch of you, even when there’s no indication of any material harm. you remember every second you spent before and after wrapping yourself around that tree. does that mean you’re dead? are you in the afterlife?

that doesn’t seem right, either. you don’t know much about what the afterlife is supposed to be like, if there’s even one at all, but this feels too real and familiar. you reach for your phone, with its alarm still blaring, and as you hit snooze, you notice the date. it’s just a few months before… before everything happened. did you go back in time? is that even possible? you try to reconcile yourself with that fact for a long, long time. so long, in fact, that you don't even realize you're supposed to be heading to work until it's five minutes after you're supposed to be there.

as if on cue, your phone rings with your boss’ contact displayed on the screen.

“hello,” he says as casually as anyone ever can. this just solidifies the idea that your accident must never have happened, because if it had, he certainly wouldn’t be greeting you as if it’s just another day.

“h-hey,” you attempt to reply, and your voice is so choked and thick with emotion, he can hear how badly you’re struggling to speak at all.

“is everything alright?” he asks, concern laced in his tone. that’s enough to make you break, and before you can stop it, you’re outright sobbing into the phone.

“i’m—i just—i don’t think i can come in today.” you fumble for an excuse, but it’s difficult to think straight as you feel your mind breaking down. “i, um, i—”

“hey, it’s okay. you can take the day off, alright? don’t worry about anything, just focus on feeling better.” his words, so comforting in nature, do nothing but make you cry even harder. it feels nice to be cared for like this. if you had the coherence to think so, you’d wonder how baffled he must be at your behavior. luckily, you’re far too gone to care. you think you end up stammering out something similar to a thank you, but you’re not quite sure. either way, the call ends, and you collapse onto your bed. you curl yourself up and tuck your knees to your chest as you grip yourself as tightly as you can. this is real. you’ve gone back. thank god, you’ve gone back.

you cry and cry until no more tears will come out, and while you try to keep yourself awake as the hours pass by, the relief you feel coalesces with the enticing nature of your soft bed, so you can't help but drift off. it’s different from the way you drifted off mere hours ago. it’s a lot warmer and kinder, and you're so, so fucking tired, you don’t even want to fight it anymore.

a knock on your door wakes you from your sleep. it’s a good thing, too, because you were having a nightmare. rejection, devastation, primal fear, mind-numbing pain, then total darkness repeated incessantly in your head for hours on end. you swipe away your tears, but they continue to flow as you practically drag yourself to your door. you’re so disoriented, you don’t even think to check to see who it is before opening it. what a mistake that turns out to be.

“hey! whoa—are you okay?” he asks, and who else could it be besides beomgyu? your heart pounds in your chest, and even more tears stream down your face as you let out a sob. his mouth contorts into a frown. his face, previously so endearing to you, makes you feel absolutely repulsed. you lost everything for the figure standing before you, and he has the nerve to ask you if you’re okay. a fire is ignited in your stomach, and you feel yourself on the precipice of carnal rage. while you’re trying to suppress that feeling, he speaks again.

“i heard you called in, so i thought i’d check on you. do you have a fever?” he questions, reaching out his hand to check your forehead for abnormal warmth. without even thinking about it, you smack his hand away.

“don’t touch me,” you all but growl, but beomgyu is undeterred.

“what’s the matter? i don’t care if you get me sick; i could use the time off,” he teases with a grin, but your face remains twisted up in pure anger.

“get out,” you mumble between clenched teeth.

“what?” he asks, and it's unclear if that's because he's confused, or because he simply didn't hear you. either way, you don't care.

“get out,” you repeat, louder this time, but not lacking any of the previous anger. your erratic behavior is enough to finally irritate beomgyu.

“fine, whatever. forget i even bothered,” he scoffs as he stalks out of the door. you slam it behind him before falling to the floor. this is your chance. you came back too late to avoid ever meeting him again, but it’s still good enough for you. from now on, you two will live completely separate lives spent being nothing to each other. owing nothing to each other. again, you find yourself sobbing in relief.

when you return to work the next day, the first thing you do is head to your boss’ office. he looks relieved to see you for a moment before he notices the envelope in your hand. with the way his smile drops, you know he immediately knows what it is.

“what’s that?” he asks, though the tension in the air is more than enough confirmation that he has no doubts about what the letter reads.

“my resignation,” you tell him.

“may i ask what this is about?” he probes. no, he can’t, because even if you told him, he’d never believe you.

“i just don’t think this position is right for me,” you deadpan, and the look on his face shows that he doesn’t really buy it.

“you’ve worked so hard for so long, and you want to give up now?” he has a point. your company is on the brink of a major deal with another company, which will result in a financial breakthrough like none other, if successful. as fate would have it, said company is the one in which beomgyu’s future wife works, and the dinner where the two of them met is the celebratory party for such success. you’d laugh at the circumstances if you could. “whatever the issue is, we can work it out. just don’t leave before we do this. we need you, and even if you want to leave after we close the deal, you’ll still be rewarded for everything you’ve done. don’t you want to see that happen?” you do. you really, really do. you’ve given so much of yourself for this opportunity, and you really want to see it work out. you guess, in a way, you already have seen it; but if you leave now, that’ll never happen. this particular project needs you to get off of its feet.

but can you really stand to see beomgyu for a second longer? have his mere presence fuck with your head? is it even worth it? you’re about to declare that it most certainly is not, but you stop yourself. the money will be good for you to start a new life. maybe you’ll move buildings, maybe even to a new city, maybe across the country, who knows? you’ll be more than comfortable with this potential payout, and then you can start a new life somewhere where you know nobody, and nobody knows you.

“i want a new partner, at least,” you counter, and his face morphs into a grimace. he’s undoubtedly confused at your sudden aversion towards beomgyu, but he doesn't mention it to you.

“that’ll be difficult. i need you both for this to work.” you’re about to flatout deny him, but he continues. “if you can just make it through this, i promise that you can go wherever you want to go, and i’ll even give you a bonus for your trouble. deal?” you purse your lips as you mull it over. if you can suffer through being partners with beomgyu, your move will be considerably easier. still, you’re undecided before you have an epiphany: in just a few months, beomgyu will meet his future wife and fall head over heels in love with her. all you have to do is ignore him until then, and he’ll inevitably leave you alone once he meets her. so what if beomgyu’s here? you don’t want to care about him anymore. and once everything’s settled, you’ll pack your life away and start somewhere without the bad memories.

“okay,” you reply, and his face breaks out into a grin.

beomgyu is very visibly ruffled today, which you would immediately notice if you just spared him a glance, but you do no such thing. your lack of attention towards him serves to only rile him up even further. he wants to be stubborn—act out until you apologize to him, but once he realizes you have no intention of doing so, he finally relents and approaches you.

“hey,” he says coolly, still a little annoyed, but prepared to forgive you. you look up at him blankly, and he’s unsettled by just how empty your eyes look, so he nervously asks you, “are you… are you feeling better?” you look at him as if he just spouted the most asinine question of all time, and for the first time ever, he feels small under your gaze. he shifts awkwardly on his feet before you break the silence.

“i’m fine,” you tell him. he waits for you to ask him how he is, but the words never come. in fact, you turn away and bury your nose in your work as if he’s not standing there, waiting dumbly for you to respond as you usually would. well, whatever. you’ll have to talk to him, eventually. especially since you two are working on such a big project.

you don’t really talk to him, though, aside from what’s absolutely necessary. for most of the day, you silently slide papers over to him without even deigning to look at him while you do it. when you do have to speak to him, your words are cold and detached, as if even speaking to him is a chore. it’s like you’re looking past him, almost. like you don’t even really see him, and he’s never felt as unsettled by a gaze in his life.

at lunch, you quietly remain at your desk instead of joining beomgyu like you usually would, and you can't quite bring yourself to eat. you just feel sick by this entire situation, and while you know you need food to survive, you’re sure you’ll vomit if you try to eat anything.

beomgyu, on his part, leaves you alone, though he desperately wants to try to get you to eat with him. he won’t admit it, but he’s actually afraid that you’ll reject him again. he doesn't know why, but the thought of you doing so slashes at his heart. this is a mystery to him. he shouldn’t really care if you reject him or not, since he’s been quietly rejecting you for years, but he can’t help it. still, as he watches you space out at your desk, he tries to will himself to bear the brunt of a possible denial before a coworker he recognizes approaches you.

you don’t even notice mingi walking up to you, so you jump in surprise when he greets you. you’re pretty familiar with him, but you’re not particularly close, so you’re a bit surprised by his arrival.

“can i sit with you?” he asks, grinning as he asks it. you nod in response, and he grins even wider before he pulls up a chair and seats himself in front of you.

“are you going to eat?” he questions, and you shake your head.

“not hungry,” you reply. he frowns.

“you still need to eat. you need energy, especially since you’re working so hard.” you’re actually a little sheepish because of his words. so he’s noticed how hard you’ve been working? it feels nice to be appreciated. is he worried about you?

“i’ll eat later,” you lie. he seems a bit reluctant, but he eventually nods.

“make sure you eat, okay? i’ll—i’ll text you and make sure you have. is that alright?” you’re stunned for a few seconds before agreeing, and he ends up sliding you his phone so you can put your number in it.

beomgyu watches it all from his desk, and he feels a sense of loss. is it because you’re directing your attention elsewhere? that has to be it, right? it can't be any deeper than that, but somewhere nearly unreachable inside of him, he feels an unfamiliar sensation scratching at his heart, begging him to acknowledge it. but he shakes away the thought. you’re acting really weird, but that’s okay. you love him, and you’ll get back to normal really soon.

that’s what he tells himself, but you remain as cold as ever throughout the rest of the week. you don’t look at him with those adoring eyes, and you don’t even crack a smile at his attempted jokes. he feels like he's going insane, as if he's on the brink of understanding something really important, but he can't quite make it there.

it all comes to a head when beomgyu shows up late back from grabbing lunch. he's done this a million times before, and he's always been greeted by your insistence that his tardiness isn't a big deal. in spite of the tension between you two, he still assumes that you'll be as forgiving as ever.

“hey, sorry i'm late. i got caught up with eating and didn't realize how late it was getting,” he says casually. he searches your face for any traces of leniency, for the indulgence you used to give him, but there is none. only anger, and maybe even something like regret, though he can't quite understand the latter.

“don't be late again. we don't have time for this,” you say coldly before sticking your nose back into your computer, effectively ignoring anything else beomgyu could say to placate you.

you two work late into the night. beomgyu gets so caught up in his work, too afraid to draw your ire again, but when he realizes he hasn't heard any noise coming from you in a while, he peers over to see you staring blankly at the wall. your face seems expressionless, but your eyes are what horrifies him. dead, empty, hopeless. “a-are you okay?”

the sound of his voice does nothing to break you out of your trance, however. in fact, it seems to have triggered something in you, decimated a dam that was already leaking. your eyes still look blank as tears begin to leak out of your eyes. they fall slowly at first, then incessantly. it's hard to reconcile the steady stream with the way your face remains completely devoid of emotion.

tentatively, he places a hand on your shoulder. suddenly, you're jolted awake, eyes now looking as composed and indifferent as ever.

“are you okay? w-what's wrong?” he asks anxiously,

you hurriedly wipe away your tears before you say, “nothing. just thinking about something.” you redirect your attention to your work, just trying to fully shake the way you were just locked into the memory of you dying alone.

“what could you possibly be thinking about to make you look like that?” he asks concernedly, his voice unintentionally rising in frustration. your eyes harden before you turn to him.

“none of your business,” you say firmly. before he can say anything, you're packing up your things. “i'm going to call it a night and go home.”

“wait! talk to me! what's been bothering you so much lately? you've been weird for a while now, so just tell me what's going on with you. i'm here. i'm listening,” he says as gently as he can.

“you're here? you're listening?” you sneer. “i'm so honored that you finally give a fuck about how i'm feeling,” you say sarcastically. he frowns at your words.

“what are you talking about? i'm always here for you,” he says, and he looks so genuine, it makes you even angrier. he sincerely thinks he's telling the truth. so fucking clueless and selfish.

“are you? do you think offering up your ear once in a blue moon makes you an altruistic angel or something?” you know he can't understand that you're throwing his own words back in his face, because he can't even remember saying them, but you don't care. it just feels too damn vindicating to stop yourself. “beomgyu, you're only as available to me as is convenient to you. you'd never put yourself out of your way to comfort me. meanwhile, i've always been ‘here’ and ��listening’ at your will. i don't need your pity, and i certainly don't want it.” he's stunned into silence. you're absolutely correct, he realizes with a sinking feeling. before he can formulate the words to defend himself, you pack up your things and leave the office.

in the following weeks, you realize that mingi is… nice. really, really nice. you’re not used to prospective romantic partners actually seeming to like you, so the feeling is foreign, but not unwelcome. do you have feelings for him outside of appreciation? well, not really. in the back of your mind, you honestly doubt that you’re even capable of having feelings for other people anymore, but you try not to think about it too much. if you seriously search for an answer, you fear you won’t like what you find.

mingi is diligent, though, and you like that about him. now that you’ve made it clear that you’re not involved with beomgyu (and never want to be), he’s pulling out all the stops to charm you. lunches you would previously spend with beomgyu are now spent laughing with mingi. in the same way, downtime at work, which would normally entail catching up with beomgyu and maybe helping with a few of his assignments, are now reserved for chats with mingi. as beomgyu watches you two giggle with your heads together, he wonders what you two could possibly be talking about to ever be that funny. his jaw ticks in irritation at the scene. most notably, though, is the fact that instead of spending your off days with him, you flatout reject him with no explanation. not even with a perfunctory “sorry”. he doesn't have to wonder what you’ve been doing when he hears your coworkers gossiping about how you're always hanging out with mingi.

beomgyu feels you slipping away, and it brings a sense of panic he’s never known before. but why? he shouldn't care about your romantic endeavors. granted, you haven’t had one during the entire time that you've known him, but it’s only natural that he supports you as your best friend. best friend. does that term even apply to him anymore? he wants to insist that it does, but as the weeks turn into months, your disgust for him becomes clearer and clearer. as he sits across from you and mingi at an after-work dinner with your department, he watches as mingi flirtatiously whispers into your ear. when some of your coworkers tease the two of you about it, he realizes with sickening certainty that he doesn't just want to be your best friend, he wants to be the one who sits next to you. he wants to be the one your coworkers joke about being your boyfriend, and he wants them to be right about it. the time you two have spent apart has shown him that he can't imagine anyone else occupying the space beside you. with an overwhelming sense of clarity, beomgyu realizes that this feeling, so deep and all-consuming, is love.

how could he not love you? regardless of everything you've done for him, you're still so perfect to him, for him. he finds himself appreciating things he previously took for granted. you're beautiful, caring, funny, and smart. he loves your smile, your laugh, your company. he loves the way you look when you're focused, the way you look so innocent when you sleep. you're the first person he wants to tell any time something happens, good or bad. you're the face he wants to wake up to in the morning. you're the only person he trusts to be his partner for the rest of his life. and now, it's clear that he can't just let you go without a fight.

as everyone begins to leave the restaurant one by one, he follows you out into the parking lot, determined to make his feelings known. even if you don't reciprocate them anymore, he's willing to put in the effort to make you love him again. and even if you don't… even if you can't… the desire to simply be next to you supersedes the need to be loved back.

you don't realize that beomgyu is trailing after you until you get to your car. he calls out your name as you're about to pull the door handle. with a sigh, you turn around.

“what is it?” you ask flatly.

“are you serious about mingi?” he asks firmly, but he already knows that you are not. the way you look at mingi is laughable compared to the way you looked at beomgyu before your sudden change in behavior.

“yep,” you say.

“no, you're not. i can tell,” he argues with conviction.

“oh, and you know me so fucking well, huh?” you snark.

“i do,” he tells you, stepping closer. “i know you, and i know you don't really like him. not really.” damn. he caught you.

“just because i don’t like him now, doesn't mean i can’t like him later,” you insist.

“so what? you’re just going to string him along while hoping you’ll like him someday? are you just going to spend the rest of your life never really caring about anyone? you can't live like that.” his words leave no room for argument, but you’ll be damned before you don't at least try.

“you’re right, i shouldn’t lead him on, but what’s it matter to you? even if it doesn't work out with him, maybe i’ll meet somebody who i can tolerate, and who can tolerate me. i don’t think i need anything more than that.” beomgyu flinches at your bizarre words, but he's already reconciled with the idea that even if you don't want him anymore, he'll still take whatever you want to give him with a smile on his face.

“then what about me? i… i can be that person.” he's so nervous, you can tell that it took all of his courage to say that. but who cares?

“you can’t,” you argue.

“why not?”

“that would mean i’d have to be able to tolerate you, and i don’t want to do that.” not anymore.

“why are you acting like this? you’re acting like i’m so fucking horrible, but you used to lo—” he stops himself, but you both know he was going to bring up the love you had for him. “i just want to know what changed.”

“i did. i changed.”

“but why? i mean, i didn’t realize it before, and i know i wasn’t always the best, but i’ve always had feelings for y—”

“don’t even bother finishing that sentence. you don't like me at all,” you sneer, “you just don’t like seeing me move on.” this makes him pause, and even you don’t have the heart to pretend like you can’t see the hurt in his eyes.

“why can’t you ever just believe me?” he asks quietly. “i’m telling you i love you, but you don’t even care. i’m saying that it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but you’re acting like… like i'm disgusting to you.” he looks like he's about to cry, and it makes you all the more frustrated.

“you don’t understand,” you reply in between clenched teeth.

“then help me understand. i just want to know why. i just want to know how to fix it. how can i bring you back?”

“you can't. look, i’m—” and you’re about to apologize, but you just can’t make yourself do it. “you’ll get it really, really soon. you won’t even remember feeling this way, i can promise you that, and you’ll forget all about me.”

“what are you talking about?” he says exasperatedly. beomgyu may not have always been the best of friends towards you, but he can recognize when you’re holding yourself back. “what aren't you telling me?” you purse your lips in response.

“nothing. there's no point in saying anything, because you wouldn't understand even if you tried. you wouldn't remember—fuck, never mind. just let it go, beomgyu. i have.” but he can't just let it go. this whole fucking thing as an enigma to him. but your words are… odd. what do you mean he wouldn't remember? there's nothing to remember, no matter how much he tries. before he can respond, you get into your car and drive away.

“c’mon, you know i don’t see you like that,” beomgyu tells you, forcing an awkward laugh. your expression immediately crumbles, and he begins to shift uncomfortably when he realizes that he must’ve said the wrong thing. your silence is deafening, ringing in his ears, but he still tries to maintain a smile. maybe you’ll lighten up. maybe you’ll go back to the way you were before. maybe you’ll even crack at smile at this ridiculous situation when you realize that he’s right in his assumption that you’re just being emotional. your feelings for him can only go so deep, right? you can go back to being friends after this, just the way he likes it.

his smile is wiped clean off of his face when your eyes redden and well up in pure, unadulterated hurt. hurt he’s never seen before. he fumbles for the right words, but before he can find them, you break the suffocating silence.

“you knew how i felt about you this whole fucking time, you were just too much of a coward to be honest with me. if… if you had just told me, i would’ve understood. i-i would've—you didn't have to do it this way.” any delusions beomgyu has that you’ll just let this go are promptly flushed away at your biting tone. jesus christ. you’re right, and he knows it. he flounders for a response, but nothing he can possibly say could really be enough.

he spends the duration of the argument mainly trying to defend himself. honestly? he doesn't want to remember everything you two say, but he knows he's being nasty in an effort to keep himself from reconciling with the fact that he is, indeed, a coward. he knows he’s never been the greatest friend to you, though he’s always justified it by recalling the times where he did do thoughtful things for you. when you tell him that your resentment isn’t about the fact that he doesn't feel the same way, but because of the fact that he won’t own up to his actions, he feels a stab to his pride. before he can stop himself, he lashes out.

“i never want to see you again,” you choke out between sobs, and he feels a piercing pain shoot through his body, all the way down to his bones. you don’t mean that. there’s no way you mean that. you care about him. you love him, and even if he doesn't feel quite the same way, he loves you, too. but one look at your resolute face is enough to tell him that you mean it. he wills himself to say something—anything—but you rush out of the door before he can quite muster up the courage to speak.

he stands in a stunned silence for longer than he could ever rightfully justify, but a call from an unfamiliar number eventually pulls him out of his daze. usually, he’d reject it and chalk it up to spam, but something tells him that he should—needs to—answer it. with shaky hands, he accepts the call.

“h-hello?”

the response mostly sounds rather clinical in nature, really. there’s a perfunctory greeting before the monotone voice detachedly states that there’s been an accident, and he will need to come to the coroner’s office to accurately identify the corpse, which had been declared deceased at the scene. as it turns out, he was your first emergency contact.

“we are deeply, deeply sorry.” the final words are the only ones that seem to hold any hint of an emotion in them, but beomgyu is too preoccupied to hear it. in a daze, he gets in his car and makes his way to the coroner’s office. hoping, praying, needing for this to be a bad dream. as he comes to find out, it is not.

beomgyu’s head whips up in horror, and he’s panting like mad in between whimpers. tears incessantly pour out of his eyes, wetting his flushed cheeks. was it all a dream? there’s no way; it was too real to be a dream. he was there—he lived it. no, no, no…

“beomgyu?” a voice says, somewhat breaking him out of his panic. his bleary eyes snap up to the doorway to see you standing there, your eyebrows knit with concern and confusion. you two have been working late again, awkwardly alone together once more after his confession. you saw that he had fallen asleep, but he looked so tired, you couldn't bring yourself to wake him up. “are… are you okay?” he's absolutely frozen as you tentatively approach him, pausing a bit uncertainly before approaching him to get a closer look. he grabs you and tugs you towards him, wrapping his arms around you in an almost bruising grip. he nuzzles his wet face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent in between shudders.

“beomgyu, are you sick? did you have a bad dream?” you ask. his heart would flutter at your concern, concern you haven’t shown him for so long, in any other context; but as it is, he’s far too distraught to appreciate it.

“i… i remember,” he croaks, trying to get even closer to you, as if doing so is the only way to keep you safe. you’d like to break out of his embrace, but he’s so distraught while you’re so off-guard, you don’t do it just yet.

“remember what? something about the project? we can—”

“no. i’m—i remember… i remember losing you.” he can’t quite bring himself to be any clearer, but you seem to understand him, anyway. you stiffen in his arms before prying him off of you. he fumbles for you, just to touch you again, but you push him away. you exert very little force, but it’s firm and unrelenting.

“oh,” you reply, looking a little lost, but mostly just cold. he's basically wailing now, but he tries his best to answer.

“i’m so, so fucking sorry. i didn’t—”

“what, you didn’t mean to? you’re sorry? maybe so, but does it matter?” you cut in, almost snarling. now that he remembers, all of the feelings, all of the resentment you’ve kept bottled up come tumbling out of your mouth. “what's the point in telling me this now, after everything? you’re not sorry, beomgyu. you only care because i’m—because i was gone. i don’t want to hear about your regrets; they’re worthless to me.” he recoils as if you just punched him. his eyes turn even redder than they were before, too, and he’s silent at your words.

he wants to tell you that you’re wrong, because he really is sorry, but can he truthfully say that he’d realize his feelings if you didn’t… go? he can’t. for all he knows, he’d have rejected you forever. he's so ashamed, he'd rather die than feel this way. even so, he wants to attempt to explain himself; you deserve that much. before he can reply, however, you rise and stalk towards the doorway. it’s reminiscent of the way you left when everything happened, and he desperately tries to follow you, grabbing your arm before you can make it out the door.

“don’t touch me. don’t you ever touch me,” you seethe, ripping yourself out of his grip as if the mere feeling of his hands on you burns through your skin, and he staggers backwards. he keeps his arm somewhat outstretched, though. just in case you change your mind.

“don’t leave like this. i-i don’t want you to get hurt.” not again.

“what’s it matter to you?” you sneer. “you didn’t care before, so i won’t waste my life on you ever again.” his eyes widen in terror, and tears fall even more profusely than they already were. you begin to leave, but to your regret—and to his anguish, the angriest part of you forces you to turn around and face him again.

“do you want to know what my last thought was?” you ask, face mostly blank besides the slight traces of disdain in your eyes, and he’s too terrified to move or even speak at all. he knows whatever you say will be something that breaks him, so he tries to shrink himself to be as small as possible; subconsciously praying that doing so will make him disappear in the face of your anger. still, your eyes remain locked on his face—narrowing in on him regardless of his efforts. “it was of you, actually. i was wishing i’d never met you.” he visibly flinches as he gasps sharply, feeling like you just knocked the air out of his lungs. he feels like he can’t breathe. it would have felt better if you had just ripped his heart out of his chest, because as it is, it’s aching so badly, he wishes you had.

his lips tremble, and he looks like he’s just heard the worst news of his life. and he has. you hate him that much? you regret all of the time you had together to the point of wishing it had never happened? he’s never, ever regretted a moment he’s spent with you, but he guesses your company has always been better than his. how could it not be? you’ve always given him more than he could ever reasonably ask for, and even if you hadn’t, you’re still a much better person than he is. better to the extent of making him realize just how unworthy he is.

he lets you leave, but his anxiety makes him frantically pace about the room. he tugs at his hair, willing himself to calm down, but he just can’t. after a few minutes, he texts you and asks if you made it home. to his relief, it says that you’ve read the message, so he knows you must be okay. still, you don’t respond.

the deal is tied up exceptionally smoothly; you’ve done it before, after all, so that comes as no surprise. on the night of the celebratory dinner, you take mingi as your date. you’ve already told him that you don’t see things panning out, but he actually takes it really well. maybe telling him that you’re planning on moving helped smooth things over. still, he insists that you accompany him to the dinner, just as friends. you oblige.

it’s mostly the same as you remember. you spend the night mixing with your coworkers for the last time, and it’s bittersweet. they don’t know that this will be the last time you see them, as your two weeks before resignation have already passed in secret, and you’ll spend the next few weeks just packing and finding a new place to stay far, far away from here. it’s freeing, in a way.

at some point, your manager announces that he’ll be making a toast, and the room quiets as everyone’s attention is placed on him.

“firstly, i’d like to celebrate the success of this collaboration. everyone has worked hard to make everything come to fruition. secondly, i’d like to recognize two of the people who made this possible.” he specially thanks you and beomgyu, which is normal, but the unexpected happens when he voices his regret that you’ll be resigning.

your coworkers look at you in shock, but one person in particular is especially stunned. beomgyu. your manager probably thanks employees of the other company, too, but he doesn’t hear it. other voices, other people, are drowned out by the buzzing in his ears. you’re leaving, and it's all because of him.

he tries to drown his feelings in alcohol, stomach burning with every round, but the regret never seems to numb. the room seems to be spinning, and he looks visibly ill. eventually, a familiar figure takes a seat next to him. ah. his previous fiancée.

“hey,” she says, somewhat coyly. he doesn't respond. “wow, are you okay? you look a little green. how are you getting home?” again, he doesn't respond. she actually appears to be embarrassed, but she tries one more time.

“i actually—i came over here because you're really… cute. if you don't have a way home, i can take you. i won't try anything on you, but i can't just let you go home alone. and maybe, you know, when you're sober, we can—”

“beat it,” he snaps. he knows it’s not her fault, and that she hasn’t done anything, but he still can’t help his resentment, even when it should all be directed towards himself. but his recognition of his unfairness isn’t enough for him to care. she blinks in surprise and embarrassment, rising from her seat in defeat.

beomgyu continues to drink until he’s on the verge of passing out, putting his face in his hands. he draws attention from everyone, but he doesn’t have the mind to care. people try to approach him, but he flatly rejects everyone who attempts to offer their help in order to ensure that he gets home safely.

“should you… should you take him home?” mingi asks. it’s obvious who he’s referring to.

“it’s not my problem,” you reply, a bit more curtly than you intended.

“you’re right, it’s not. but you’re the only one he’ll listen to, and i think you know that.” mingi argues. you sigh. he’s right. as much as you want to blame beomgyu for everything, you’ve come to realize that after the conversation—more like confrontation—you two had, you’re not angry anymore. it was hard to see in the moment, but you’ve begun to question your merciless stance towards him. isn’t it partially your fault that things turned out the way they did? he didn't make you check your phone that day, so isn’t it unfair to completely blame him for everything?

with this in mind, you approach him. he initially bats you away, assuming you’re just another one of his coworkers, but your voice pulls him out of his drunken stupor.

“c’mon. i’ll take you home.” his head whips up in surprise, and he almost thinks you’re joking, but your face is completely serious.

“o-okay,” he replies, sounding extremely docile. you don’t respond, but you begin to walk ahead of him as you head to the exit. he’s having a hard time even following you as he clumsily staggers through the crowd, following you like a lost puppy. hesitantly, he reaches out for your hand, though the fear of you telling him not to touch you remains. you turn back to see his fingers hesitantly outstretched to your hand, and with a look of resignation, you let him grab it as you lead him out.

the ride to his home is a silent one. beomgyu rests his head upon the cold window as he stares at the scenery outside. he doesn’t really take anything in, far too dazed to appreciate the view, but he looks, anyway.

when you enter his apartment, begrudgingly letting him lean on you for support, you take him to his bedroom. he plops down onto his bed in an unnaturally clumsy manner.

“th-thanks for taking me home,” he says meekly.

“mm,” you reply, no inflection of emotion in your tone, getting ready to leave and head to your apartment.

“w-wait! can you… can you stay here tonight?” you look at him doubtfully, but before you can resolutely deny him, he begins to retch. with widened eyes, you pull him up and drag him to his bathroom. he hunches over the toilet and lets everything go. he’s trembling after he’s finished, and you clean him up as best as you can. he melts into your touch as you gently wipe his face. you’re not soothing him with your words like you would’ve a few months ago, but your care, no matter how unwilling you seem to give it, is something he revels in. he brushes his teeth, but he keeps his eyes on your pensive reflection in the mirror. after he's finished, you speak.

“i’ll stay,” you tell him.

“w-what?” he questions, eyes watery.

“i’ll stay for tonight. i’ll take the couch. i just don’t want to leave you when you’re feeling like this. it’s dangerous.”

“n-no! you can stay in the guest room.”

“i need to be able to hear you if something happens,” you argue.

“th-then i’ll sleep on the couch. i don’t want you to—”

“beomgyu, you need to properly rest. if you don’t sleep in your room, i’ll leave.” his face crumbles before he acquiesces with a strained nod.

“good,” you say with a ghost of a smile at his blind obedience, but he's too drunk to notice it. if he had, he would’ve clung to it like a man drowning.

“thank you,” he solemnly whispers.

“goodnight, beomgyu.”

“goodnight,” he says, and you rifle through his drawer for some clothes before heading to his living room and changing. you pull out spare blankets from his linen closet before sliding onto his couch.

you sleep rather peacefully, but beomgyu has no such luck. instead, he's pulled into a dream—one he comes to realize is a memory.

when beomgyu arrives at the coroner’s office, there is a moment, albeit brief, that he sickly hopes that it’s literally anyone else in the world, but when he sees you—body mangled nearly beyond recognition—he realizes that there is no such mercy. apparently, you didn't even die on impact, but by the time somebody reached you, you were already gone. he doesn't want to imagine how you must've felt, being alone in your last moments, but he feels like he should. against the warnings of the coroner and surrounding police officers, he demands for your face to be uncovered. he can surely identify you based on frame and clothing alone, but for reasons he doesn’t dare to dwell on, he feels like he just has to see. he just has to be sure. he just has to know what he did to you.

and he does come to know it. to his eternal regret, he begins to know it at that moment, and consequently, every moment after. as it turns out, they suspect that you were looking at your phone before you swerved off of the road. he doesn’t know how, but he’s instinctively sure that it’s because you were waiting on his call. one resounding thought thrums incessantly in his head: it’s all his fault, all his fault, all his fault.

your face is bloody, barely even showing any of the underlying skin, and marred from shattered glass. he swallows thickly as he reaches out to touch you, running his hands over the gashes on your face as softly as he can as to avoid hurting you, and he can’t help but wonder if it’s at all possible for him to tend to your wounds. he would go over single one, softly patching you up back to normal; but you're already cold to the touch, and though you definitely can’t feel anything, his mind imagines how much it must hurt to have him caress the gaping wounds on your face. he snatches back his hand, as if his touch is poison to you.

“s-sorry, i’m really sorry!” he panickedly exclaims. “i-i won’t—i didn’t mean to hurt you.” he’s unsure if he means that in the current physical or the previous emotional sense, but does that really matter? he already has. besides, you can’t feel anything anymore. all of your muscles are relaxed, leaving you devoid of any expression as your eyes hollowly stare up at the ceiling. for a moment, he wishes the hurt he saw in them a mere hour ago was still there. anything would be better than the current blankness of your features.

the blankness remains, however, even after all of the makeup and superficial repairs done to make you look like you’re only peacefully asleep. to him, you just look dead, no matter how badly he wishes the former were the case. as much as he wants to speak at your funeral, he does not. he doesn't deserve the dignity to speak, much less to properly mourn you. not after what he said to you. not when everything that's happened is all his fault.

the breakup with his girlfriend—or fiancée—is more bothersome than he can handle. in between her pleas and attempts to reason, all he can do is coolly recite the constant refrain: “i’m sorry, i just don’t want to be with you.” she tells him he’s just grieving, that he’ll get over it with time, and she wants to support him while he does it; but he montonously repeats his words as if they're the only ones he knows. in her anger and desperation, she tells him he’s making a mistake, and that he’s just feeling guilty because of your unrequited love, which ultimately proves itself to be the categorically worst thing to say. he finally explodes, telling her that she was the mistake, that he doesn't know what he ever saw in her that even closely compares to you, and he'd take every moment with her back if he could. she's the biggest regret of his life, which previously felt like it had only just begun, but now feels like it stretches far beyond what he can tolerate.

in the days, weeks, months that follow, he struggles to understand how something so unjust could occur. it doesn't make sense. really, it just doesn't make sense. eventually, even his initially patient friends grow weary of his neurotic harping upon how unfair it is, how sudden and wrong it all is. he should be punished. you shouldn’t have had to be the one to suffer, but you were. what kind of justice is that? what kind of universe allows something so cruel to happen right under its nose?

when everyone finally tells him that it’s time to move on and let go, he resorts to speaking to the only person who can’t argue back. you. he visits you every day, bringing you gifts on christmas and your birthday, and even just when he sees something he think you'd like. in a way, they’re almost like sacrifices to you to atone for what he did. his contrition. he spends many of his visits by raving like a man gone mad at a stone slab. he likes to think that you’re agreeing with him, that you see the unfairness for what it is. he’s realized that he loves you, has always loved you, but he was too self-absorbed to notice. as hypocritical as it is, he’s only noticed after you… left, and he’s more disgusted by himself than he ever thought possible. still, he thinks you deserve to know. you deserve for him to be brave and tell the truth, but who cares? what’s the use of only recognizing it after everything he’s done?

he apologizes to you while crying about how much he misses you. he tries to tell you about other things, too. about the things he thinks you would’ve liked to hear. about current events he decides you’d find funny or interesting, about life updates on your friends that you’d want to know, about how a new album has been released by an artist you really liked, and that he can't quite bring himself to listen to it yet. he’ll definitely listen, though, someday. he’ll give you his opinions after describing each track in great detail, once he’s able to bear it, that is. you always look(ed) forward to their releases, so it’s the least he can do to repay his debt to you.

but if you owe someone a debt as deep as their life, how can you repay that debt when they’re no longer here to collect it? if he really thinks about it, there are a lot of things he owes you. he owes you the years you spent caring about him when he couldn’t be bothered to reciprocate a fraction of the same courtesy. he owes you every thoughtful action, every encouraging word you wasted on him. he owes you the time you dedicated to make sure he always felt seen, felt understood, felt loved. yes, he owes you a lot of things—too many to properly account for, actually. and now, he even owes you your life. his debt is so heavy, he crumbles under it every day, squirming pathetically beneath the crushing weight of it all like an insect. the worst part is: he owes you more than you ever asked him for. all you wanted in return was honesty, but it appears that even that was too much to ask from him.

he wishes you were here to punish him, to scorn him for being such a fucking bastard. yell at him, hit him, kill him. anything would be fine—he’d tolerate it all—just as long as you were still here. he’d be perfectly content with your hatred, he’d revel in it, even; but he supposes that he doesn’t even deserve that much. as it is, your silence is the most punishment he can receive, but that doesn't feel like it's even close to enough. he finds himself praying for mercy, for some bizarre, cosmic event to put him out of his misery once and for all. he indulges in the idea that if he plays his cards right, if he begs and pleads enough, he’ll find you again. such a notion is initially enough to placate him, but it is to his horror when he realizes that he’s more afraid of that than anything else. what if he finds you, and you tell him, “i never want to see you again,” just like before? such a terrifying outcome is enough to keep him from snuffing out his own light with his own two hands for good. he’d rather live as if he were dead than hear those words again.

so he does. he lives like that for years, decades, until death mercifully takes him. he lives quietly and utterly alone. no wife, no children, and hardly any friends. if your life was robbed from you by his actions, then it’s only right that he lives as if his own were robbed from him, too. it’s the least he can do to atone for what he’s done. what keeps him up at night, though, is the possibility that it’s just not enough. if you do meet him again, what will you say? will you still tell him that you don't want to see him? that the lifetime he spent regretting everything he's ever done pales in comparison to the price you paid for caring about him? as the darkness overcomes him, however, he realizes that you deigning to say anything at all to him is better than your unbearable silence. his final thought before he's swallowed whole is: please, just let me see you one more time.

beomgyu awakens in a cold sweat, panting heavily as he struggles to understand where he is. is he still alive? that can’t be right—he clearly felt himself slipping away. but what if he can’t die? what if that’s his punishment? the thought alone is enough to elicit a guttural, “no, no, no!” out of him as he realizes that his nightmare is not yet over, and may very well never be. tears pour down his face as he wails like a child.

“beomgyu?” you say as you walk through the doorway, looking somewhat sleepy and disheveled in clothes he subconsciously registers as his own. when he looks at you, he's relieved, but the regret he feels is what overwhelms him.

“oh, god. i'm—it's all my fault.”

“what?” you ask, still a bit disoriented from just waking up, seeing as how it's still the middle of the night.

“it's all my fault. it's all my fucking fault. i did that to you.” suddenly, you realize what he’s saying, and your heart clenches at his words.

“beomgyu, no. i was distracted. i didn’t see—”

“you were distracted because of me. you thought i was calling you, i just know it. you were there because of me. because i’m a fucking coward who couldn't just tell you the truth.” you don’t know what to say. did he really blame himself for everything? even after all of this time? before you can answer, he speaks again.

“i saw—you just looked so small. i've never—i didn't even think anyone could bleed that much. you were so cold, a-and your face was—”

“hey, hey, hey, stop it,” you say firmly, but gently, “you're not—”

“they said you died at the scene, all… all alone. and i know i was the one who did that. if i had just listened to you, if i had just been honest with you, you would've been alright. but i called you crazy. i said you were being stupid. w-why did i say that? what did i do it for?”

“look at me,” you say firmly, which makes his unfocused eyes zero in on you. “listen, listen to me. it's not your fault, okay? i used to feel like it was, but now i understand that you were scared. i know you couldn't control how you felt about her, and you were right about you not owing me your feelings. you could've been honest, but that doesn't mean you killed me.”

“no, i did it. i did it. i did that to you. if i had just—”

“gyu,” you sigh, and his heart can’t help but stutter at the nickname you haven’t called him in months. “i’m telling you it’s not your fault. i used to blame it all on you, and i was wrong for doing that. but you get it now, right? you're supposed to be with her. you love her.”

“no, no, no! i don't. i really don't,” he desperately exclaims, trying to convince you in the only way he knows how.

“maybe not yet,” you concede, “but you will. once you get to know her, you'll want to spend the rest of your life with her. that's how it's supposed to be, just like before.”

“there is no before,” he cuts in pleadingly. “i lived and died alone, just like i deserved. i just—i love you so much, i couldn't stand to let you go.” you frown at his words—they make you actually feel guilty. even so, you guess that it's time to let the purgatory you find yourselves in go. besides, maybe he needs an apology to finally put it all to rest.

“i'm sorry that—” his heart drops to his stomach. please don’t say it. he’s begging you not to say it. not to someone as unworthy and filthy as him.

“don't. please, please, don't apologize to m—”

“—i made you feel that way. even when i hated you, i never wanted you to live like that; but you can't mistake guilt for… something else. maybe this is another chance to get it right. you can be with her guilt-free, and i can live without regrets.”

“no, i-i didn’t break up with her because of guilt! i did it because i realized that if it’s not you, i don’t want it to be anyone else. it can’t be anyone else.”

“you don’t know that,” you sigh. “you think you feel that way, but you’re just sad that things ended how they did.”

“you’re wrong!” he exclaims. “i didn’t realize it—i was too stupid to realize it. and i know it’s disgusting of me, but i only… i only understood it after i lost you. i-i’m sorry i didn’t realize it before, but please don’t tell me how i feel. i spent every day wishing i would just fucking die so i could see you again. i just couldn’t stand living without you. that’s not normal—that’s not how friends feel, no matter how guilty they are. i just wanted to die.” you purse your lips at his words as you feel dread pooling in your stomach. at least when you died, you didn’t suffer for long, but he suffered for the rest of his life. in the same way, you didn’t want him to hurt himself, no matter how angry you were.

beomgyu has begun to hyperventilate, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you—too afraid that you’ll disappear if he does. he’s probably having a panic attack as tears stream down his face, and he ruthlessly tugs at his hair in pure distress. all he can do is repeat that it's all his fault and how sorry he is, and any lingering resentment you may feel dissipates like smoke at his absolutely shattered state. it seems like he really can't live without you, so are you sure you can abandon him like this? you don't think so. although it may not be right, you still think that it's worth a shot. you don't think he has the capacity to hurt you ever again, and you realize that even after everything, you don't think you can love somebody the way that you love him. so, you're willing to let him try again.

“hey, hey. stop it,” you coax, seating yourself on his bed. but he can’t stop it, he physically can’t. he’s whimpering now, like a wild beast with a mortal wound. you don’t hesitate to take him into your arms, holding him tightly as you shush him. “shh, it’s okay, i’m here. don’t cry. i’m here, and i won’t leave again. i promise. just breathe, in… then out. that’s it, just like that. good job.”

eventually, his breath begins to even out, though his body is still racked with shudders. you’re here. you’re okay. you promised that you won’t leave him, and you always keep your word when it comes to him. he finally feels like he can breathe, and even though he’s in so much pain, he still wishes this moment will never end. he wishes he could stay in your arms forever, never letting you leave his side. always staying where he can reach you.

“better?” you ask, pulling away to get a good look at him, but he shakily grips your sleeve in sheer desperation. he just has to be touching you, somehow. he forces himself to nod.

“good,” you say, eyes soft and lips slightly upturned in relief. he almost loses it again at the sight of your smile, no matter how small. he never thought he’d see it directed towards him again in this life or the next. “do you want to start over?”

“s-start over?” he asks. he doesn't dare to let himself hope that you mean what he thinks you mean.

“start over,” you nod. “we can try again, okay?”

“oh, p-please,” he begs. he’s so pathetic. he doesn’t deserve your mercy, but he supposes he’s too selfish to reject it. you look at him for a long, long time with soft eyes. you’re not angry anymore—he’s suffered more than enough, and you finally believe that he loves you just as much as you love him, and maybe even a little more than that.

“you promise you won't hurt me again?”

“i promise. i swear to god—”

without a second thought, you gently cup his face in your hands, which makes his words catch in his throat. his eyes widen as you lean in while pulling him towards you. when your lips meet, he’s electrified to his bones. he melts into the kiss, whimpering slightly at the feeling of your lips against his. when you break apart, you rest his forehead on his own, closing your eyes as he stares at you before he does the same. he clutches the hand you have on his face and grazes his thumb over it as he lets out a contented sigh. nobody has ever made him feel this way before, and if he could go back to the first day he met you, he’d tie you to him immediately.

“thank you, thank you so much,” he whispers. with a smile, you press your lips against his again. he falls into the feeling just as easily as the first time, and you push him down before continuing to go even deeper. before completely giving in.

you spend the night loving and being loved in a way that you never thought you could. you feel cherished to a degree you previously considered impossible. beomgyu reveres you as if you’re his god, and he shows you as much with how loving and gentle he is. when you’re finished, panting heavily against each other, he holds his hand against your cheek as he stares at you in awe.

“i missed you so much. i love you so much. i promise that nobody will ever love you as much as i do. i promise that nobody will ever treat you as well as i will. just don’t leave me, okay?” and when the time comes, even if you do leave first, he’ll be sure to follow you. he won't let you be alone ever again. but he definitely can’t tell you that, or else you’d yell at him for not caring about his life enough.

“okay,” you tell him with a sleepy smile, and he beams before kissing your forehead and letting you drift off. he stares at your peaceful face, resolving to always give you what you want, no matter what it costs him. even if it kills him, he'll gladly do whatever it takes to ensure that you're happier with him than you could ever be with anyone else. he'll prove to you how much he loves you, and he'll pay back the debt he owes you a million times over. you'll see. he’ll marry you, start a new life with you, and chain himself to you forever; which may sound selfish, but he’ll make up for his willfulness by being everything you could ever want and need. and finally, before he joins you to sleep, he thanks the universe for having mercy on him—for letting him see you again.

notes pt. 2: ... so? LMAOOOOO i hope this was worth the wait bc this work was so hard for me to get through it was making me so sad to write it. anyway, love yew. please don't be mean to me tho like if u don't like it just close your eyes n scroll 🙏

permanent taglists: (sfw only) @defnotleee @yaoizee @tubatukimoa ([n]sfw/sfw) @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @everythingvirgoes @midwinterblizzard @sooberryworld @20-cms @hyueika @boba-beom @vicurious28 @blossommi @lickingan0rchid @katsukis1wife @binniebakery @notevenheretbh1 @shymexican @that1sadgrl @archoive @paegesoobin @buttercreamerie @ifwtxt @softesyoongi @serenityism00 @fairfootedflekk @kyanmeai @definitelynotherr @hyunj00 @taehyunluvrs @m00gyu @denleave1088 @hwanghyunjinismybae @bmo-bri @todorokiskitten @choikanghuening @naoristerling

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saursoob · 9 months ago

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TXT TEXTS - another members pc

• REQUESTED by @astridxxxx !!

• A/N : i haven’t done a ot5 txt smau in a whileee, hehe tysm for requesting ^^

perm tags: @skittlez-area512 @aaa-sia @nishislcve

divider by @/fairytopea !!

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boigyu · 10 months ago

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in which you have a crush on beomgyu and one day you get paired up with him on a project and accidentally send him a presentation on why he should date you

the presentation

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dawngyu · 13 hours ago

Text

THE SCIENTIST

pairing: popular hueningkai x deaf fem!reader

summary: Kai, who thrived in sound. Loud noise, vibrant conversations, the hum of life. And the quiet girl that sits prettily by the window—had begun to haunt his mind—stirring his heart the way only music ever had.

There must be some scientific explanation for this... right?

warnings: deaf reader, set in 1995 timeline, verbal!abuse, physical!abuse, family-trauma, ableism!(hate this word so much). side character!death, purely work of fiction. subtle implications of survivor guilt, high-school setting but everyone is 18 and above. everything written here is not a description of any idols. characters like chae-won, yun-jin etc are used. if any of the warnings above might be triggering for you, please proceed with caution if you decided to read. (let me know if i missed anything.)

smutwarnings: explicit!smut, pull-out method(pls don't),fingering!, missionary!, virginity!loss. MDNI.

wc: 21k

notes: inspired by twinkling watermelon. while I’ve done some research to better understand what it’s like to be deaf, there may still be inaccuracies. I did my best to approach the subject with care and respect. love knows no boundaries, hence I wrote this piece. a big thank you to @killa-1009 for beta reading. ilysm.

You were born with the inability to hear anything.

The world is nothing but a muted place for you. You never heard the birds singing at dawn, the hum of a bustling street, or the warmth in your parents’ voices—even your own. The sun might be painting the sky with its warm hues, but for you, it was just another day of deafening silence.

And then there was that one particular day.

You didn’t hear the crash, the scream of tyres, or the shattering glass. You didn’t hear your mother's voice, soft and trembling, as she held you close. Eyes brimming with tears, searching yours, face pale and streaked with blood.

You tried—desperately—to focus, to read the words forming on her lips. But your head spun, the world blurred, and all you could feel was her cold hands cradling your face. How can you? When you couldn't even hear your own pained whimpers from the glass that cut your skin. Strangers pulled you. They carried you away—away from her, away from her forever.

You’ve convinced yourself it must be punishment—a cruel reckoning from a life before this one.

Why else would your hearing be taken from you? Why else would the universe strip away the one person who truly saw you, who tried to understand you, even in your silence? What crime could have been so unforgivable that it warranted a lifetime of loss?

You stabbed at the food on your plate, pushing it around without taking a bite. Your stomach churned—not from hunger but from being trapped here. The room was filled with people who called themselves your family. Family—nothing more than a coincidence of living in the same house.

A sharp kick to your foot snapped you out of your thoughts. Your eyes met hers—your stepmother. Her perfectly practised smile didn’t reach her cold, calculating eyes.

She had arrived after the accident, ten years ago, when you were just eight. Back then, she was a tutor, brought in to give your father hope—a cruel, empty hope that you could still learn to speak. She had played her role well, and now she sat at the head of this table, the head of this house, ruling with her own. Her daughters—your stepsisters—sat on either side of her, mirroring her expressions, their eyes flickering toward you.

“Is the food not to your liking?” she asked—you read her lips, something you had to do out of necessity. Her stare burned into you.

You knew that look too well. Behave. Know your place.

And, as always, your father sat there, oblivious. His eyes never caught the disdain in hers, never lingered long enough to notice the cracks in the perfect picture she painted. Soon, he'll be back overseas for another business trip.

"Y/N?"

You hesitated, lifting your hand to sign, then you caught her eye—a sharp, pointed look. Your hand faltered, dropping back to your side.

Instead, you let out a hum. It wasn’t much, just a sound—a vibration you couldn’t hear but felt in your throat. She tilted her head slightly, giving a satisfied nod.

Your father pushed back his chair, standing with the same distracted air he always had. He walked over to you, placing a hand on your head, a gesture so routine it barely meant anything anymore. I’m going now. That was what it always meant.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead briefly, before straightening up. His secretary hovered near the door. You watched his back as he walked out, leaving you staring from the table.

The day your mother left you, you lost... him too.

Seeing the doors close, you rose from your seat, but your stepmother was quicker, blocking your path. She loomed, her face a mask of forced patience. "Do I need to remind you again?" she said, "I said speak. No hand signs or whatever that is. That is not allowed here on this house. Do you want me to get mad at you again?"

Her glare felt like a physical force, pinning you to the spot. Unable to meet her eyes, you nodded weakly, looking at the floor. But she wasn’t done. She stepped closer, grabbing your shoulders in a firm, punishing grip. Her fingers dug into your skin as she shook you, her frustration spilling over.

Everyone watched. They just.. watched. The maids stood frozen in the corner, their expressions carefully blank, devoid of any emotion, too scared to intervene. Your stepsisters whispered to each other, their mocking smiles only adding to the humiliation.

You nodded again, your only escape was to comply. A soft hum escaped your lips, the sound she always, always insisted on, a token of submission that seemed to satisfy her. Her hands drop from your shoulders. The moment her grip released, you ran. Up the stairs, down the hall, into the only place that felt remotely yours—your room.

Once inside, you collapsed at your desk, leaning forward until your forehead pressed against the hard surface. The tears came quickly, spilling from your eyes as sobs racked your chest. They said crying was supposed to help, to lighten the burden somehow. But for you, it only made the weight heavier. You couldn’t even hear yourself cry. The silence made your pain feel endless.

In your despair, your arm knocked into something on the desk. You looked up in alarm, your heart skipping as you saw the mess. Paints, scattered and spilling, teetered dangerously close to the last drawing you had finished the night before.

Frantically, you reached out, your hands moving quickly to fix it. The thought of losing that small piece—felt unbearable. You righted the paints and saved the smudged edges of the paper, tears blurred your vision as you looked at the sketch.

A boy, in your uniform, with bangs that fell over his eyes and the back of his hair just shy of touching his collar, stood smiling softly. In his hands, he held a guitar, fingers resting gently on the strings.

Huening Kai has so much to be delighted for—his mom, his dad, his sweet sisters—but if he’s being frank, what he’s most thankful for is the day he picked up a guitar and found his love for it.

Music has been his refuge during both the small, frustrating setbacks—like failing a math test he poured hours into studying for or losing a manga he cherished so much and never finding it again—and the moments that cut far deeper.

It was there when his parents decided to end their marriage, leaving him struggling at first—to make sense of a family that no longer looked the same. It was there when Lea packed her things and left for college, that he felt the ache of her absence in a much quieter house. It was there when two of his bandmates graduated, their spots in the group left empty, a reminder of how quickly life can change.

Through music, he met people who became his closest friends, his second family—people he couldn’t imagine living without.

It all comes back to one truth: music doesn’t betray you. It’s always there, no matter what. It’s honest, a constant in a world that often feels anything but. It’s there when you need it most, wrapping you in its arms like an old friend who doesn’t need words to understand—even when you can’t find them yourself.

“Huening Kai!” a high-pitched voice calls out. He feels the soft thud of pillows hitting him and a sharp slap against the back of his thigh. Seriously? He had just fallen asleep.

“I’m going to eat all your food if you don’t get up,” the voice threatens. That gets his attention. Groaning, he blinks his eyes open, adjusting to the dim light of his room. Familiar sight of used guitars propped against the wall, the gleam of trophies, and the dark violet hue that wraps around the room.

He blinks. Oh. It’s his sister, Hiyyih.

Hiyyih stands there, a plate in one hand, an annoyed look plastered across her face. Kai can tell she’s been sent by their mom to rouse him, probably against her will. She takes a deliberate bite of scrambled eggs, her eyes narrowing as she gives him a pointed look before turning to leave.

Kai chuckles softly, shaking his head as he rubs his eyes. He stretches, muscles still heavy, and a frown tugs at his lips. Today is the first day of his last year in high school. The final chapter. Soobin and Yeonjun won’t be there anymore. He sighs, swinging his leg off the bed.

He runs a hand to his tousled hair, grabs a hoodie from the back of his chair and pulls it over his head. He heads towards the chatter—smell of eggs, bacon and pancakes makes his stomach growl.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," His mom greets him with a smile. His frame now towering over the kitchen shelves. He catches her watching him, a soft look in her eyes, and it makes him smile back.

"Morning," Kai mumbles, sits down at the table, reaching for a slice of toast.

Hiyyih watches him,"I thought I was going to have to eat all your food," she teases.

Kai rolls his eyes but grins. "You wish."

"Big day, huh? Last first day of school."

"Yeah. It feels… weird. Soobin and Yeonjun aren’t going to be there. Has Lea called yet?"

"She did. She's doing great so far, being a college girl." his mom answers, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure you'll make even greater memories this year."

Kai smiles, appreciating her words. "Thanks, Mom."

Breakfast was filled with small talk, morning routines wrapping around them. Hiyyih busied herself packing her lunch, their mom helping her with a few finishing touches. Being just a year below Kai, their schedules almost mirrored each other, so they will go to school together.

"Kai, want me to sneak some of these into your lunch?" Hiyyih asked, voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness. He glanced over to see her holding up rice balls shaped like hearts and little animals, clearly proud of her handiwork.

"No, thank you," Kai replied, his tone flat but amused.

"Killjoy," she muttered, giving him a mock glare before returning to her task. He watches as she carefully places a tiny heart-shaped piece of seaweed to form a cat's nose. Something he did not understand.

Why go through all that effort?

The three of them make their way to their mom’s old car, a little worn but still reliable. Kai slips into the passenger seat, and Hiyyih climbs into the back, fussing with her hair even though she just brushed it a minute ago.

“Why don’t you let me drive?” Kai asks as the car starts rolling through the neighborhood. “That way you don’t have to keep going back and forth from school to home.”

His mom glances at him, a smile tugging at her lips. “Son, just because you turned 18 last summer doesn’t mean I’m handing over the keys. Besides,” she adds warmly, “I want to do this for you and Hiyyih.”

Kai leans back in his seat, nodding. She’s right. And anyway, it’s not like they head home together after school. His afternoons are spent in the band room while Hiyyih flits between her own plans, always busy with something or some girlfriends.

The car rolls up to the massive school grounds, Kai glances out the window. The sight of students milling around, the towering building ahead—it’s the same as always. He exhales and starts gathering his things.

He steps out, the crisp air latch on his face. With a quick ruffle of his hair, he pushes his longer bangs away from his eyes, though they fall back almost immediately. The strands at the back have grown out too, brushing the collar of his jacket. Slinging his backpack over his right shoulder and his guitar case over his left, he adjusts the weight and sets off toward the main building. Black—headphones rest around his neck.

He’s barely made it a few steps before he feels it—the stares. The whispers.

“Isn’t he one of the handsome seniors?” “The main guitarist of TXT.” — “He’s so tall. And cute.”

Kai shrugs it off, keeping his focus ahead. He’s used to it. Beside him, Hiyyih is already swept up by one of her friends, her laughter fading into the background after she’s pulled in another direction. His feet carried him down the well-worn hallway, a path he didn’t even have to think about. He could probably make the walk blindfolded. The band room.

When he reached the door, he grasped the doorknob and paused, a small smirk tugging at his lips as the low, bassline thrummed from inside. Peeking inside, the sight was just as he expected—home.

“Yo! Huening Kai!” Beomgyu’s voice rang out, bright and animated, as he set his bass down. His grin widened as he crossed the room in a few quick steps, pulling Kai into a hug before he could dodge. “How was your summer?”

Kai let out a soft laugh, prying Beomgyu’s arms off him. “It was fine. I went shopping with Taehyun a couple of times,” he said, making his way toward his guitar shelf. “Watch it.” he added, shooting Beomgyu a look as the other trailed dangerously close behind.

Beomgyu’s eyes landed on the guitar case Kai was carrying, and his grin turned sly. “What’s this? A new baby?”

“Yeah,” Kai replied, carefully unzipping the case and pulling the guitar out as if it were a fragile treasure. “Dad brought it back from abroad.”

Beomgyu snickered, reaching out to pinch Kai’s cheek. “You’re absolutely smitten, aren’t you?”

“Would you stop?” Kai swatted his hand away, but there was no hiding the small, proud smile tugging at his lips.

Before Beomgyu could tease him further, the door swung open again. Taehyun stepped inside, clipboard in hand, expression calm and no-nonsense as usual. “The new auditionees are here,” he announced, motioning to the two figures who followed him in.

“This is Heeseung,” Taehyun said, gesturing to the taller one. “He’s here to audition for piano. And Jay—he’s trying out for drums.”

Kai glanced at the newcomers, giving them a polite nod as Beomgyu rubbed his hands together, mischievous grin returning. "Alright," Beomgyu said, "let’s see what they’ve got."

The next hour flew by with skills checks, and it didn’t take long for them to see that Heeseung and Jay were solid. They were skilled, sharp, and seemed to fit right into the gaps left by Soobin and Yeonjun. It felt like they could pick up the left space and carry it forward without missing a beat.

Afterwards, Taehyun waved them off, heading to his next class, while Kai and Beomgyu walked in the opposite direction. They shared the same class, while Taehyun, ever the academic overachiever, headed to the advanced one.

“Only the brainiacs go there,” Beomgyu says, nudging Kai with his elbow.

Kai shook his head. Taehyun’s class was famous for being perfectly orderly—a stark contrast to theirs, which was noisy and chaotic on a good day. Their room always felt like the epicentre of the school’s commotion, every day.

The rest of the hours passed in a blur of introductions and meetings with their new advisors. And, of course, Kai’s least favourite math teacher made his return, every bit as strict as before.

Kai slouched in his chair, barely stifling a groan as the teacher droned on about equations and formulas. His mind drifted—Why do he even need this? Is he going to calculate the quadratic formula to buy chips at the grocery store? No.

He glanced down at his hands, the faint calluses on his fingertips from hours of guitar practice catching his eye. He’d much rather spend his time until his hands were sore than trying to decipher problems that made no sense to him.

Beomgyu leaned over, “I think your brain just checked out.”

Kai grinned, giving him a light shove. “Math checked me out first.”

The two of them exchanged quiet laughter, abruptly stopping when the teacher eyed them down.

By the time the last class wrapped up at 4 p.m., Kai found himself right back where he’d started his day: the band room. He and his four bandmates were deep into their after-school practice, bestowed in instruments, time slipped by unnoticed.

“Shoot,” Jay muttered, his gaze snapping to the wall clock. 7:30 p.m. Thirty minutes past the curfew for club rooms.

The realization hit them all at once. If the guards caught them here, it would mean one thing: detention.

“Pack up. Now,” Taehyun said, already slinging his bag over his shoulder. The others scrambled to gather their own gear.

Everyone slipped out into the dark, quiet halls, trying to move as silently as possible. The sound of their footsteps seemed louder.

“Hey! Who’s there?” A booming voice cut through, and suddenly, ta flash of light caught them mid-step.

“Go!” someone hissed, and chaos erupted. The guard started running toward them, and they bolted in every direction. Beomgyu let out a panicked squeal as he sprinted with his bass case clutched in one hand.

Kai didn’t have time to think—he just ran, heart pounded as his legs carried him blindly through the halls. He rounded a corner, only to see another guard up ahead. The group split, scattering.

He can’t get detention on the first day. His lungs burned as he pushed himself further. He kept running, not even sure where he was going, until his body… gave out.

Panting, he slumped near the wall, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He glanced over his shoulder and froze. A flashlight beam swept the hallway behind him. His pulse quickened as he realized he was at a dead end.

Frantically, his eyes darted around, then saw a room ahead. Kai’s brow furrowed at the sight of the mop propped against the door handle, clearly used as a makeshift way to keep it shut. Weird.

He hurried over, carefully removing the mop, and slipped inside. The room was pitch dark, save for the faint glow of light spilling in from the high windows. It cast eerie shadows on the walls, but he didn’t care. He just needed to hide.

Kai tried flipping the light switch, but nothing happened. Figures, he thought bitterly. He shut the door as quietly as he could, pressing his back against it to steady his breathing.

“Anyone there?” The sound of footsteps echoed outside. The guard’s flashlight swept across the small window in the door, and Kai instinctively slid to the floor, curling himself. He crawled, akwardly, backwards, toward the corner at the far end of the room, hoping to make himself as invisible as possible.

But something bumped against his foot. He whipped his head around, his breath catching in his throat. Sitting in the corner was someone else.

You.

Your legs were drawn up to your chest, wide eyes staring right back at him.

“Shi—” Kai started to curse but stopped himself, clapping a hand over his mouth—heart hammered in his chest, not sure if it was your unexpected presence in the room that caused it—or the way your wide, startled eyes locked onto his in this small space.

Chae-won, like you, is in her final year of high school, while Yun-jin is a year below. Your stepsisters.

When they first moved in, your twelve-year-old self had hoped you could be... friends. You had imagined shared secrets, laughter, and maybe even sisterly bonds. But the moment your father’s attention shifted elsewhere, it was clear that your stepmother’s whispers had already planted seeds of resentment in their hearts.

You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it started. When did it all go wrong? Was it because you were the only biological daughter in the house? Because your father, despite his best intentions, never really connected with them either? Or was it simply because you couldn’t speak?

The inability to communicate fully, to bridge the gap between your world and theirs, seemed to widen the chasm. You often wondered if things would have been different if you could—if words could have built a room where silence had only erected walls.

After years of trying, of reaching out and being met with cold indifference or outright hostility, you gave up. You stopped hoping for understanding, stopped yearning for a connection that seemed impossible. The effort of trying to be part of their society when they wanted nothing to do with yours had only broken your heart.

"Watch where you're going, fucking weirdo," Chae-won sneers, her foot juts out, sending you stumbling. The water bucket you were carrying—filled with the murky grey water of used paintbrushes—tips forward, dousing your chest. You don’t hear the laughter, but you can feel it, buzzing around you in the painting room.

You look up, your gaze darts to Yun-jin. She leans against the counter, arms crossed, her painted red lips curved into a smug smirk. She raises an eyebrow, as if daring you to do something about it.

You’re in your school's art room, surrounded by the faint smell of turpentine and dried paint. Art has always been your peace. But your love for it didn’t go unnoticed by your stepmother.

It wasn’t long before she pushed her daughters into it too. You’re not sure if it was to force some kind of twisted togetherness between you, or if it was her way of ensuring they would always outshine you, in everything—even this.

You push yourself up, your clothes clinging to your body, damp. Your eyes narrow as you stare at Chae-won. You want to tell her off, to demand an apology, to ask why she does this—

"Cat got your tongue?" she taunts, her lips curl into a cruel grin. "Oh, wait. You can’t speak. Poor girl. That’s what you get for being such an attention seeker."

Your breath hitches as your brows knit in fury. You can’t reply with words, but actions—actions—will do just fine.

As she turns to leave, you grab her hair, yanking it back with all the frustration and hurt bottled up. She shrieks, spinning around to claw at you, and soon you’re both tangled in a fierce struggle.

The others jump in.

Someone grabs your arm, wrenching it back. Another slaps you hard across the face, the sting reverberating through your skull. A foot connects with your leg, sending you buckling. You hit the ground again, tasting blood on your lips as they shove you down.

Your things are heartlessly thrown at you—your bag, your books, your sketchpad—hitting you like stones. Footsteps retreating, laughter echoing in their faces. They close the door before you can even blink.

You force yourself to your feet, every movement a struggle against the ache in your body. You stumble to the door, testing the handle. It doesn’t budge. Of course, it doesn’t. They’ve done this before.

Silence.

You sink back down onto the hard floor, your chest heaving as tears spill freely down your cheeks. Trembling hands reach up to the corner of your lips, fingers brushing the split skin. The sting makes you wince.

The clock ticks on, indifferent. 4:50 p.m.

You take a shuddering breath and wipe your tears with unsteady hands. You smooth your hair, trying to tame the mess they made of it. With a quick swipe, you clear the blood from your mouth, leaving behind only the faint metallic taste.

All you can do now is wait. Alone—praying—that someone will come and find you in this empty room.

What you didn’t expect was that someone would come—three hours later, long after the sun had set. You’d been staring at the door for so long that when it finally creaked open, you were already halfway to your feet.

But then you froze.

It’s him.

Of all people, it’s him.

You swallowed the surprise in your throat, pulse-quickening as you watched him slip inside, crouching low, moving backward like he was avoiding something.

He was hiding. From what, you didn’t know—not until a beam of light swept across the windows above, brushing against the walls like a searching hand. Your body stiffened, instinct telling you to stay still.

You weren’t sure you could.

When his gaze finally landed on you, the shock in his expression was unmistakable—and you knew yours mirrored his. Suspended in that shared disbelief.

“Quiet, please,” his lips shaped the words. His hand rose, a single finger pressing against his mouth. The dim light barely reached him, but you caught the faint pink of his lips.

Minutes passed. Neither of you spoke, just staring at each other like you were both trying to figure out something. He shifted, his eyes widening in alarm.

“B-blood,” he stammered, pointing at your forehead.

Your hand shot up instinctively, fingers brushing against the skin there. When you pulled it back, you saw it—smudges of red streaking your fingertips.

He's as startled as you, he tapped his chest, like he was trying to centre himself, and quickly rummaged through his pocket. He pulled out a handkerchief, holding it out to you with a slightly trembling hand.

You didn’t take it. You couldn’t. It must be the ache in your bones, the hunger in your stomach, the blood still fresh on your hands—or maybe... your mind was still catching up to the fact that he was here, standing this close to you.

When you didn’t move, he took another step forward, hesitating only briefly before carefully pressing the cloth to your forehead. His touch was cautious, you could feel the warmth of his hand through the fabric.

From this close, you could smell him. Clean, with a faint trace of musk, and something sweet underneath. You hated how your chest tightened because of it.

“What happened? Why are you here?” he asked, his fingers were steady as he wiped the blood from your skin. His brow furrowed as he inspected the small cut, his concern written plainly on his face. “Did someone lock you in?”

You shook your head, hesitant. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, so you let your gaze fall somewhere—anywhere—but on his eyes.

He didn’t press for more. “Let’s get out of here.”

His hand found yours. All you could do was stare at your entwined fingers. You can feel the tip of your ears go warm. He gave it a gentle squeeze before he stood and pulled you up from the cold, unforgiving floor.

The boy who had only ever been a distant figure to you. The boy you’d sketched on countless pages, the one whose smile crinkled his eyes so perfectly it made your chest ache. The boy you were sure didn’t even know you existed.

He pulls you out of this suffocating room. His tall, sure figure led, guiding you as you ran. Every so often, he glances back, his eyes searching yours and for a fleeting moment, you glance down and see your shadows on the wall—together. His hands never let go of yours until you weren't in the dark anymore.

Huening Kai.

Kai slouches in his seat, letting out another heavy sigh. His body’s in class, sure, but his mind? It’s stuck somewhere else—somewhere back last night.

He can’t stop thinking about you. And he's not sure why.

You both made it out of the school grounds safely, and he even helped you gather your things from your locker. He stood there awkwardly, watching when you downed a bottle of water in one long gulp like your life depended on it. His suspicions were confirmed—someone did lock you in that room.

How long had you waited, sitting there in the dark? His stomach churned at the thought. What if he hadn’t been hiding that way? What if no one had found you? The idea of you spending the entire night in that empty space until a teacher or janitor happened upon you made his heart race. It’s… eating him alive.

But the thing that gets him, the part he can’t stop replaying, is how… quiet you were. No explanations, no complaints—just a nod here and there, avoiding his eyes the whole time. Did he cross a line? Say something wrong? Overstep somehow? Did he offend you without realizing? Or worse—do you just not like him?

He rubs the back of his neck. And yet, despite all that, he also can’t stop thinking about how your eyes seem soft under the moonlight, making them look so—

“Dude.” Beomgyu’s voice cuts, “What’s with the brooding? Bell rang.”

Kai glances around the classroom. Almost empty. “Oh. Right. Nothing,” he mumbles, grabbing his bag.

Beomgyu narrows his eyes. “You’ve been sulking like my dog when I don’t share my snacks.”

Kai remained silent, pouting and followed Beomgyu out of the classroom. It’s lunch now, and as usual, they’re headed to meet Taehyun at the cafeteria. Heeseung and Jay will probably join them too.

Walking through the hall, Kai forces a polite smile at the people who greet him. Beomgyu, on the other hand, is his usual exuberant self, grinning and dapping up every other guy who greets him as they pass.

The two make their way into the cafeteria, people stared. They walk toward their usual spot, a table near the centre of the room. No one ever sits there. Everyone knows—it’s their table. Yeonjun made that mark. It's an unspoken rule.

Kai drops into his seat, setting his bag down and pulling out his packed lunch. The cafeteria food doesn’t really do it, not when his mom’s food is always better.

“What do you have?” Beomgyu asks, leaning over.

“Tempura and some beef,” Kai replies, popping a piece of shrimp into his mouth.

“Give me some,” Beomgyu demands, already reaching for his chopsticks. Kai rolls his eyes but slides the container a little closer, watching as Beomgyu happily steals a piece.

Taehyun walks in, weaving the crowded tables with his usual stride. “You're early,” he greets, his seat across from them. "That's a record."

Kai’s eyes flick toward the entrance, catching sight of you slipping. You moved slowly, clutching your tumbler. You keep your head low, glancing around as if to make sure no one’s watching. Kai stands, pushing his chair back abruptly. He can't miss this chance.

Beomgyu pauses mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. “What’re you doing?”

Taehyun gives him a sideways glance. “Kai?” Kai ignored them. He just heads toward you.

“Hey,” he calls out, but you don’t turn. Hesitating for only a second, he gently taps your shoulder.

You whirl around. Your grip tightens on the water bottle, and your eyes widen slightly when you realise it’s him. Around you, a few people glance over.

“Hey,” he says again, softer this time. “How’s your head?” He tilts his own slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of the bandaid peeking out near your hairline. “That looks better,” he murmurs.

“Would you like to join us for lunch?” He points behind him toward his table when you don't answer, where Beomgyu and Taehyun are undoubtedly watching. As he expected, you shake your head quickly, almost instinctively, avoiding his eyes.

The small rejection stings more than it should. Kai nods, trying to hide his disappointment. “Alright,” he mutters. Then, before he can second-guess himself, he gently takes the tumbler from your hands.

He heads to the water station, fills it to the brim, screws the cap on tightly, and hands it back to you. “Here,” he says simply. It's small. But he wanted to do it for you.

You nod, a small, polite gesture, and turn to leave without a word or a backward glance.

Kai watches you, chest tight. When he trudges back to his table, Beomgyu’s smirk is already waiting for him.

“What was that about?” Taehyun asks, leaning forward.

“I was just checking on her,” Kai mumbles, slumping into his seat. “She never talks to me. I don’t get it.”

Taehyun’s gaze sharpens, and he studies Kai for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh. “She can’t,” he finally says, voice calm but firm.

Kai blinks, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“She can’t hear you.” Taehyun explains, his tone softening. “She’s deaf, Kai,”

Taehyun filled Kai in, sharing what he knew about you.

Kai was surprised to learn that you were in the same advanced class. As always, you kept everything to yourself. Taehyun admitted he had tried reaching out to you before—once or twice—but even he hadn’t gotten far.

“She’s… just quiet,” Taehyun said with a shrug. “Not just because she’s deaf, either. I’ve tried writing things down for her, you know? Like, in a notebook, to make it easier. But she only ever gives one-word answers. A ‘yes’ here, a ‘no’ there.” He sighed, “It’s hard to get through to her.”

Kai leaned back in his seat, dragging a hand through his hair. Guilt tugged at him. He’d been so quick to assume you were ignoring him, brushing him off on purpose. But now?

Now, he couldn’t stop imagining what it must have been like for you that night. Locked, no way to call for help, no way to know if anyone was coming. Alone. Not even the sounds of footsteps approaching to give you hope.

He swallowed hard, his chest tightening. Would he have been able to handle that? Sitting there for hours, completely cut off from the world? Probably not. He’d have broken down.

That's why Kai finds himself walking in the opposite direction of his classroom, away from Beomgyu’s puzzled stare. He doesn’t look back. His feet carry him toward where Taehyun had gone—toward where he knows you are.

The hallway buzzes with life. Groups of students linger outside classrooms, laughing and chatting, their voices blending into the hour of lunch break. A few glance his way as he passes, curiosity in their eyes.

Kai’s steps slow as he approaches the room. The back entrance gives him a clear view inside. His eyes scan the rows of desks. Someone calls his name. Heads turn, smiles and greetings thrown his way.

But not yours.

You’re sitting in the front row, by the window, farthest from where he stands. The sunlight filters through the glass, casting a soft glow over you. There’s a sketchbook open on your desk, the pages large and blank except for the lines you’re drawing with practised ease. The way your hand moves—purposeful—tells him this is second nature to you.

You’re so focused, so completely lost, that you don’t notice the subtle breeze dancing through the window. It catches your hair, making it sway just enough to draw his attention.

He watches as you pause, tucking the stray strands behind your ear before continuing with your sketch. You look just like him whenever he's with his guitar. Kai feels something tighten in his chest.

You look beautiful.

He doesn’t even know your name. But now, he wants to. More than anything, he wants the honour of knowing you.

It’s free time now, and the history teacher had just left. Most of the class scattered—some heading out to the grounds, others roaming the halls for a little fun. But you stayed. You always stayed.

The thought of running into your stepsisters made your stomach turn. They acted so innocent the night you came home, as if they had nothing to do with your wound. Your stepmother, of course, scolded you for being late, hurling her usual cutting remarks, but she didn’t dig any deeper. Sometimes you wondered if she knew—if she already suspected it was her daughters who had done it and simply chose to stay oblivious.

You sighed, flipping another page of your book, trying to block out the noise in your head.

The sudden sight of a chair being pulled up in front of your desk jolted you. You look up.

Huening Kai.

He was sitting right there, a small, easy smile on his face. His eyes held a kind of softness you weren’t used to. And then, he waved.

Your eyes widened in surprise, and instinctively, you turned your head to check if he was talking to someone else. Surely, this wasn’t for you. But the room was nearly empty. The only other person was fast asleep at the back.

Kai watches as you glance around nervously, he might have thought how beautiful you were from afar, but sitting this close now—you’re breathtaking.

When your eyes meet his again, questioning, he clears his throat and speaks. “Hi.”

You nod, silent—attentive. His voice softens, deliberate as he says the next words slowly, “Can I have your name?”

It takes a moment for the meaning to click, and then you’re reaching for your bag, fingers fumbling slightly as you pull out a notebook—the one you use to communicate.

Kai watches as you flip through the pages, landing on a blank one. You jot something down quickly and then turn it toward him.

Y/N.

He reads it, and a smile breaks across his face, his dimple appearing. You notice for the first time the delicate constellation of beauty marks scattered across his skin. How it suits him.

“Y/N,” he repeats, your name rolling off his tongue like he’s trying it out for the first time. His gaze lifts to meet yours. “That’s a pretty name.”

The compliment catches you off guard, and heat rises to your cheeks. You look away—embarrassed. His fingers tap lightly on your desk, drawing your attention back.

“How are you?” he asks.

You write, I’m okay.

Kai reads it, his brows furrowing slightly. Without hesitation, he leans in, his voice low but insistent. “Does anyone bother you? You know… when I found you that night. That wasn’t an accident, was it?”

You stare at him, lips parting slightly in surprise. Kai thinks for a moment that maybe you didn’t catch what he said. But then, slowly, you lift your pen: Why?

Just as he opens his mouth to explain, you’re already writing again.

Is it because you pity me? You’re looking at him now—directly, unflinchingly.

He doesn't want you to misunderstand anything. So he gently takes the pen from your hand, his fingers brushing yours for a moment. Without saying a word, he leans down and writes his response in your notebook.

Because I want to be your friend...

Your breath catches as you read his words. He adds another line beneath it, the letters a little bolder this time.

And because no one deserves what happened to you.

Kai looks at you then, his expression earnest and open, waiting. The notebook sits between you, and the sound of a new bridge forming in the back of your mind.

When you didn't write anything back, he glances down and picks up the pen again, his handwriting slow and deliberate.

By the way, my name is—

Before he can finish, you reach forward, your hand brushing his ever so slightly making him freeze. You write, finishing it for him.

Kai. Right?

The faintest flicker of surprise crosses his face when he sees what you’ve written. His lips twitch into a small smile, trying his hardest not to let out a wide grin.

You look up, meeting his gaze again, and shrug lightly as if to say, Of course, I know who you are.

Everybody knows you.

The words hang there on the page, Kai blinks, processing your response, and then lets out a soft laugh, his shoulders shaking gently, lips slightly apart.

You watch him, a strange ache tugs at your chest. You wonder, How does his laugh sound? Does it sound as pretty as he looks? Now, you're wishing for something you’ve trained yourself not to want—a window into the world you’ve long been shut out of.

It'll be nice to hear his laugh.

The two of you spent the rest of your free time in that same spot. You talked—or rather, wrote—filling the pages of your notebook with conversation. He was surprisingly talkative, and before you knew it, you'd used up two blank pages. When the conversation naturally faded, you went back to your book, but this time, you pulled another one from your bag and handed it to Kai. He took it with a small smile and began to read as well.

There you were, two students, sitting across from each other, lost in your own worlds yet somehow sharing the same one. The room felt warmer, leaving just the two of you in the bubble. You were aware of the flush in your cheeks, the way it stubbornly lingered, but you didn’t mind.

You snapped out of your thoughts when you noticed classmates filtering back into the room. Their steps slowed as they took in the scene—Kai, the school’s band guitarist, slouched in front of your desk, reading quietly across from you, the school's outcast. The deaf girl. His long legs stretched out under the desk, almost touching yours.

He didn’t bother to look up. He didn’t greet them or acknowledge the weight of their stares. Instead, his eyes stayed on the page, though every now and then, they flickered back to you. Each time, he’d give you that same small, reassuring smile—the one that made your heart flutter.

He snapped out of it when your foot gently nudged his leg. The classroom was full now, with students bustling back to their seats, most kept stealing glances at Kai. Their eyes darted back and forth, curiosity written all over their faces, as if trying to make sense of why he was here with you.

Out of the corner, you saw Taehyun make his way over. You couldn’t catch their conversation—Taehyun’s body was turned slightly away—but it was clear from his expression that he was asking why Kai was here. Kai gave him a brief nod, and after a moment, Taehyun returned to his seat, still throwing occasional glances in your direction.

You glanced at the clock. Five minutes left of free time. Before you could process it, you felt a light tap on your shoulder. Kai stood, waving a quick goodbye. He slid his hands into his pockets, all eyes on him as he walked out.

He had just spent his entire free time here. Here, with you.

You swallowed hard, your heart thudding in your chest. Your gaze drifted down the newly etched words he left in your notebook.

See you later :>

You found yourself smiling at nothing, the memory of your afternoon with Kai playing over and over in your mind. Back home now, the evening settling around you, it felt.. warm.

With a watering can in hand, you moved through the small garden—your mother’s garden. It was one of the few things left untouched by your stepmother, a living memory of the woman who once nurtured it with care. What had started as a modest patch of green had grown into something more of a sanctuary.

Your gaze fell on the cornflowers nearby, their vivid blue seeming to shine a little brighter today. Maybe it was the light, or maybe it was the joy still bubbling in your chest, making everything around you seem more… alive, more beautiful. You crouched, fingers brushing gently against the petals, and it felt like your mother was right there, as if she, too, could sense the happiness blooming inside you.

Your thoughts were abruptly cut off by an icy cascade of water, soaking you from head to toe. The coldness stole your breath, bit into your skin and you let out a shriek, the shock more than you could bear. Spinning around, you found Chae-won standing there, a smug grin plastered on her face, the empty bucket tossed carelessly to the side. Behind her, Yun-jin stood with her arms crossed, her glare sharp.

"Are you a witch now, too?" Chae-won sneered, her voice dripping with mockery. Her eyes locked onto yours, glinting with cruel satisfaction. "For someone who's deaf, you're pretty damn loud."

Before you could react, she grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking you down with a force that sent you stumbling. Your knees hit the ground hard, the sting of the impact mixing with the cold that seeped into your clothes. You trembled, pain and humiliation washing over you.

"Kai? What did you say to him?" Chae-won continued. "What the fuck did you say to make him hang out with trash like you?"

Tears welled up in your eyes. You tried to stand, but Chae-won shoved you back down, making you cry out in frustration. You reached for her, desperate to defend yourself, but Yun-jin stepped in, pulling Chae-won away, smirking and enjoying your helplessness.

Chae-won then dusted off her shirt as if your touch had soiled her, letting out an exaggerated huff. "You better not think about—"

Her threat was cut short by the arrival of your stepmother. "Chae-won," She approached, her eyes sweeping over your sodden form with a detached disapproval. "Her father might come home today."

That was enough to make Chae-won and Yun-jin roll their eyes, angrily retreating into the house, but not before casting you one last withering glare.

Your stepmother's gaze lingered on the garden, then flicked back to you, her expression unreadable. "Fix yourself," she said coldly before turning away, following her daughters inside, as if she just didn't witness them assault you.

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand. The cold water seeped into your skin, its touch biting deep, while the chill of the night’s wind wrapped around you, amplifying the discomfort.

When—when—would they ever stop? When would they finally fail to crush anything close to the hope you dared to feel? You swallowed hard, heart hurt when you saw one of the cornflowers crushed, the delicate blue petals were bent and broken, scattered across the dirt like they didn’t matter.

Just like what they did to you.

Kai thrummed his guitar, his head bobbing in time with the beat as Jay kept pace on the drums. A wide grin spread across his face as he glanced at Jay, impressed. That guy could really play.

The upcoming festival had everyone excited, especially since their band was set to perform. It wasn’t just their idea; the school had practically begged them to be part of the lineup. Naturally, everyone agreed.

As the final song ended, Kai slung his guitar strap off and gave Heeseung and Jay playful pats on the back. “Good session,” he said, voice light. Taehyun had already disappeared for some student council meeting, and Beomgyu crouched near the amp, fiddling with the cables.

As Heeseung and Jay left the practice room, Beomgyu glanced up, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. “So… you caused quite a stir yesterday, huh.”

Kai paused, brow furrowing. “What are you talking about?”

Beomgyu leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest. “Everyone’s talking about you and… the deaf girl. How you were hanging out with her.”

Kai’s hand stilled on his guitar case. “Don’t call her that,” he said sharply, “She has a name.”

Beomgyu blinked, taken aback by the intensity of the glare Kai shot him. He raised his hands in mock surrender, smirk faltering. “Whoa, okay. Chill, man. That was disrespectful of me. I'm sorry.” Kai didn’t respond, his focus shifting back to securing his guitar. The other could tell he was still irritated.

“So,” Beomgyu's tone was now more careful. “What’s her name?”

Kai hesitated, his fingers pausing over the latch of the case. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, “Y/N.”

Beomgyu caught it—the way Kai’s whole demeanour shifted, softening just at the mention of your name. He grinned knowingly, a teasing glint in his eye.

“Oh, man, you’ve got it bad, huh?” Kai didn’t answer, but the way he bit his lip, was enough. Beomgyu chuckled, shaking his head as he stood. “You’re in deep, dude.”

The two of them walked out of the band room, sunlight streaming across the school grounds as they headed toward their next class. Kai’s guitar hung over his back, his steps light with anticipation. He had a plan for today’s free time—he was going to show it to you.

Then he froze.

“Why’d you stop?” Beomgyu asked, frowning at his friend’s sudden halt.

Kai’s gaze was locked on you. You were walking across the yard, a book clutched in your hand. But something was off. Your steps were uneven, almost shaky, like you were struggling to keep your balance. His chest tightened as he noticed you blink rapidly, expression dazed.

A cold knot of worry tightened in Kai’s chest.

Kai bolted toward you, his long strides eating up the distance between you in moments. The world around him blurred—voices, students, the sun—all of it drowned out by the urgency pounding in his chest. He reached you just as your legs gave up. You fell into his arms.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, voice shaking. His hand settled on your face, and the heat of your skin sent alarm bells ringing in his mind. Scorching hot. A fever.

Your eyes fluttered closed, forehead creased, and face was pale. Too pale.

“What the hell happened?” Beomgyu’s voice came from somewhere behind him, but Kai barely registered it. "Is she okay?"

Without thinking, Kai shrugged off his guitar, letting it drop carelessly to the ground. “Help me,” he said quickly, his voice tight. He grabbed your arm, trying to shift your weight. Beomgyu caught on immediately, stepping forward to assist.

Together, they managed to lift you onto Kai’s back. His arms hooked under your legs, his grip firm but gentle as he adjusted you. “Hold on,” With you securely on his back, Kai broke into a run, his breath coming in quick.

“Slow down, man! You’re gonna trip!” Beomgyu followed close behind, clutching the guitar Kai had abandoned without a second thought—because of you.

The school nurse moved quickly, her practiced hands checking your temperature and administering care as Kai stepped back, his chest still heaving from the run. He stood there, hands on his hips, watching you, his heart refusing to slow down. Beomgyu excused himself, talks about getting water, leaving Kai alone.

His eyes fell on the notebook you had been clutching, which fell on the floor. He reached for it carelessly—a loose page slipped free, back to the floor. He crouched to pick it up, and the moment he turned it over, his breath caught.

It was a sketch. Of him.

Every detail was there, drawn with painstaking precision—the dusting of freckles on his cheeks, small moles he often forgot about, his jawline, his hair. The lines were sure, as though you had poured hours into capturing him just… right.

His throat tightened as he stared, unable to tear his eyes away. Was this really how you saw him?

Kai swallowed hard, and glanced at the rest of the page. Small sketches of cats bordered the margins, their playful forms lightening the otherwise focused artwork. A soft smile enters his lips when his eyes also land on your pen, its barrel adorned with tiny cat designs. His fingers touch the paper, careful not to smudge your work.

You're perfect, he thought, the words echoing in his head, shouting like a whispered confession. How could someone be so perfect?

Kai had to leave you at the clinic to attend classes.

He hesitated, lingering by the door, his eyes darting back to your still form on the cot. You were fast asleep, but the colour slowly returned to your cheeks. He wanted to stay, to make sure you were okay, but he knew he couldn’t. With a defeated sigh, he left. And you were gone when he returned.

"Someone came to fetch her," the nurse explained when he asked. He's still bothered. You were home now, he told himself, safe and resting. Right?

The next morning came, he sat at the kitchen counter. What he wanted to do first thing, was to see you. "Hiyyih,"

She glanced at him over her shoulder, her brow raised. "Yeah?"

"Can you, uh… can you make my lunch today?" Hiyyih stopped, turning fully to face him. "What? But I always make your lunch."

Kai shifted in his seat, awkwardly. "I mean… could you make it like yours?"

"Like mine? What do you mean, like mine?"

Kai hesitated, the words sticking in his throat. Finally, he blurted out, "The cat rice balls. Can you add those?" There was silence as Hiyyih stared at him, her lips tight. Then, she broke into a slow, knowing smirk. "Cat rice balls, huh?"

Kai felt the heat up his neck, and he quickly averted his stare. "Just—just make them, okay?" He groaned, dropping his head onto the counter.

Hiyyih burst out laughing, her teasing ringing through. Oh, he's sure. This was going to haunt him for days.

Kai spent the day in restless anticipation, his usual self replaced with something far more jittery. Even his friends couldn’t ignore it. He fidgeted during class, zoned out at times, and seemed to barely hear what anyone was saying.

It was all because of you.

When he saw Taehyun at band practice earlier, the first words out of his mouth weren’t about music. “Is she coming today?”

Taehyun had nodded, confirming you were attending class, and Kai had been trying—and failing—to calm his racing thoughts ever since. By lunchtime, the decision was made. He slung his bag over his shoulder, he turned to Beomgyu. "I’m skipping the cafeteria today."

Beomgyu just gave him a knowing look, his smirk light, teasing. "Didn’t think you needed to explain," he points out. "Your face already did."

Kai didn’t even bother denying it. Instead, he took a steadying breath and headed toward the one place he knew he’d find you. Your classroom.

His steps slowed when he spotted you inside, seated at your desk. The heaviness in his chest lifts. You were pulling open a lunch box, carefully arranging everything, your expression calm and focused.

He stepped inside, and when he was almost infront of you, you glanced up, your eyes widening slightly when you saw him.

"Hi," Kai said, a small, nervous smile sitting on his lips. You blinked, surprised, but a faint smile broke through as you set your chopsticks down.

He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling warm under your gaze. "I, uh… I figured I’d check on you. Make sure you’re okay, you know… after the other day."

You nod, reaching for your notebook to write a reply, but Kai gently stopped you with a small shake of his hand. “You should eat first, okay?” he said softly, his lips forming the words carefully for you to read.

Your response was simple—a quick thumbs-up—but it was enough to make a boyish grin spread across his face.

Pulling out a chair, Kai sat across from you, his movements just a little nervous, though he tried to hide it. He set his lunchbox on the table, the bright cat decorations catching your eye. It's hard to really miss how much effort had gone into it—cat-shaped rice balls, tiny details, and colourful accents that screamed effort.

Kai caught your expression. "Hiyyih made it," he admitted. What he didn’t mention was how he’d spent an entire morning persuading her to make it perfect, offering bribes, doing her chores, and enduring her teasing, all just to get her to agree.

He opened the lid and carefully moved a portion of the food into your lunchbox. "Here," he said, nudging it toward you.

You glanced at him in surprise, then back at the food, your lips parting slightly before they curved into a smile—a real smile. Not the polite, hesitant ones you used to give him, but a full, bright smile. It reached your eyes, crinkling them at the corners.

Kai froze for a moment, his breath catching in his throat. You’d smiled at him before, but not... like this.

He had never quite understood why his sister went to such lengths with these little creations—why she got up before sunrise to shape rice into animals or why her mood seemed to brighten whenever someone praised her work. But now, watching the way your face softened, the way your smile seemed to linger longer than usual, it all started to make sense.

If something as small and silly as this could make you look at him like this, if it could bring you even the smallest bit of joy, then he thought to himself—he’d start doing it too.

Swallowing, he picked up his chopsticks, forcing himself to eat even as his appetite felt oddly… irrelevant. He stole glances, and it struck him how happy you looked. The memory of when he’d first met you flashed in his mind, alone, wounded and withdrawn. And yet, here you were now.

His stomach fluttered, suddenly feeling full—not from the meal but from something that only your smile seemed to give.

After lunch, Kai didn’t get the chance to spend his free time with you. Beomgyu practically dragged him to practice, which he didn’t resist—especially since seeing you healthy and smiling had already lifted his spirits. His energy during practice was unmatched, his fingers flying over the guitar strings with a renewed vigour. For once, it felt effortless, like his heart was finally in sync with the music again.

When the day wound down, he found himself waiting by the school gates. A few students greeted him as they passed, and he returned their smiles politely, though his attention remained elsewhere. His heart leapt the moment he spotted you walking toward him, your steps purposeful yet light. His lips curved into a small smirk before he could help it.

"I wanted to see you before you went home," he said softly.

Your smile in response made his chest tighten, and you pulled a small notepad and pen from your pocket. After a brief moment of scribbling, you held it up for him to read:

Thank you for everything, Kai.

The simple words hit him harder than he expected, and a warm smile tugged at his lips. “You waiting for your sisters here?” he asked, but as soon as he mentioned them, your smile faltered slightly, and something shifted in your expression.

He remembered Taehyun mentioning that you had two sisters at school, but nothing beyond that. He didn’t press. All he knew was that you usually arrived and left together in the same car.

You scribbled another note. They went home early. Shopping, I think.

Kai’s brows furrowed slightly. Why didn’t they wait for you? Before he could ask, you were already writing your next reply.

I’ll take the bus today.

“Let me take you home,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

The bus was packed, and you followed Kai closely as he led the way. He glanced back, his eyes searching for something until they landed on an empty window seat. With a small nudge of his shoulder, he gestured for you to take it.

Sliding into the seat, you couldn’t help but notice how his arm brushed against yours as he stood beside you, gripping the rail overhead. He leaned down slightly, reaching for the notepad in your hands. His handwriting was a little crooked, he had written quickly, but his message was clear:

Are you okay?

You nodded and took the pen to write your response. Yes.

Satisfied, he smiled. He reaches out, hooking his pinky finger to yours. It stays there, throughout the ride. One that you wished that didn't have to end.

Kai’s eyes widened when you gestured toward your home.

Sure, his own house was comfortable—his family could provide everything he needed—but this? This was on another level. Massive gates, the sprawling estate beyond them, the kind of place that practically screamed wealth, grand estate that made him feel like he’d stepped onto the set of a drama. His thoughts stumbled over themselves as the realization hit: you were a chaebol.

And yet, the thought lingered in his mind: how could they leave you to manage on your own, just because your sisters decided to go out? The question sat uncomfortably in his chest, though he kept it to himself.

You turned to him, drawing his attention back to you. Standing there, you looked up at him, your figure small against his tall, broad frame. He looked so effortlessly handsome it made your chest ache. You wished, fleetingly, to reach out and run your fingers through those dark locks, to feel their texture beneath your hands. He had done so much for you today—more than you could put into words.

See you later?

Kai read it, his lips quirking into a gentle smile.“Go inside,” he said, tapping your head softly. “See you later.”

As you turned and walked toward the house, he stayed rooted to the spot, watching your retreating figure until you disappeared through the gates. He let out a quiet breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his heart beating steadily against his ribs.

He could do this every day, he thought. Waiting for you, walking you home, making sure you were safe. He wanted to do this every day, however many days, as long as you’d let him.

After sending you home, Kai steps into a familiar bookstore, and the scent of old paper hits his face.

The owner greets him, casually mentioning the new volume of Slam Dunk just released, but Kai doesn’t even register the words. He’s already moving past, heading toward the back of the store where the shelves are less familiar.

He stops in front of a section—far away from the music books, the theory guides, and mangas. He picks it up.

Beginners: Sign Language.

You closed the door behind you, the weight in your chest heavier than it should’ve been. Dinner was supposed to be a happy time, right? Eating with your family, sharing moments. But it never felt like that for you. Not in this house.

Your eyes caught the sight of the fax machine on the side table, a piece of paper hanging loosely from the tray. You walk over, your steps slow, uncertain. Only two people know your number: your dad, and… Kai. You grabbed the paper, the handwriting unmistakable.

Come out. Will be there in 20 mins. —Kai.

Your breath caught. Dinner had taken longer than that. You scrambled to the window, heart pounding, and there he was—a silhouette against the dim streetlights, a mess of dark hair leaning casually against the gate.

You didn’t hesitate. Grabbing your pen and notepad from the desk, you ran. The startled looks of the housemaids blurred past you, and even the sharp, judgmental gaze of your stepmother from the couch—teacup poised mid-sip—couldn’t stop you. She doesn’t matter right now. Nothing does but getting to him.

You burst through the front gates, your eyes locking with his. His face breaks into a soft, immediate smile when he sees you, the sight of you in your loose shirt and pyjamas makes his heart skip a beat.

You raise your notepad, writing quickly, then holding it up for him to see. What are you doing here?

You reach for your notepad and pen, the confusion evident on your face as you extend them toward him. But instead of taking them, his hands move, and the world around you seems to pause.

"Hi." His fingers shape the sign, hesitant, uncertain. Your heart stumbles as you watch his hand move again, spelling out your name, letter by letter, in sign language. It’s slow, almost clumsy, but every movement is intentional. He’s trying, and it sends your heart racing.

"How was your—" He falters mid-sign, his hands falling to his sides. You watch as he digs into his pocket, pulling out a small book. The title catches your eye, and your chest tightens. He scratches the back of his neck, looking at you with an embarrassed sort of determination as he mouths, Wait.

And then he tries again, repeating the signs, "How was your dinner?" His movements are a little smoother this time. The question lingers in the space between you, and you feel your throat tighten as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. It feels like you can hear—his voice.

Your body moves before you can think. You step forward and wrap your arms around his neck. Your head presses against his chest, and you feel the slight hitch in his breath before his arms slide around your waist, holding you close. His warmth steadies you as a single tear slips free, trailing down your cheek.

No one had ever done this for you before. No one had ever tried to meet you in your silence, to understand the world you lived in. At home, they’d dismissed sign language, rejected it, treating it like some kind of shameful reminder of what they wanted to ignore. They’d made you feel like you were something to be hidden, something that's less.

But here he was—a boy who, just weeks ago, had been a stranger—bridging the gap, pouring himself into learning just to reach you. Crossing the distance to meet you where you were alone.

For the first time, you didn’t feel stranded on an island of your own.

Kai spent the next few minutes basking in the warmth of your presence. When another tear slipped past your eye, he reached out, his thumb brushing it away with the gentleness of someone afraid to break something precious. His attempts at signing sentences were clumsy at best, and your happiness marked your face—something that made his heart do flips.

"Yah, I'm trying, you know," he huffed, feigning indignation as he stomped his foot playfully. His pout only deepened when you smiled at him, and he could feel the heat crawling up his neck to his cheeks. He wanted to tease you back, but the words caught in his throat when you raised your hands.

It was the first time you signed in front of him. The motion was small but deliberate, the flick of your hand touching your chin before extending toward him. Kai’s eyebrows knit together, his mind scrambling to catch up. He flipped the pages of his book, muttering, “Wait, what does that mean?”

You reached for your notepad, scribbling the word: Thank you.

Before he could process the words, you signed again, your hands moving with a fluidity that stopped him in his tracks. The glow of the moon and the faint light from the lamppost illuminated your every move, casting soft dancing shadows across your face. And Kai—he forgot how to breathe.

You looked… different. You were stunning. Not the shy, hesitant version of you he’d grown used to, but confident and sure. Each gesture was almost poetic, and he was utterly mesmerized. The way your fingers moved felt like a song without sound—it suited you in a way words never could. He didn’t even want to blink, because he was afraid he’d miss something.

All he could do was watch, completely captivated by the real you.

"You didn't really have to. But thank you… for learning it for me."

The moment was shattered by the loud creak of the gates swinging open. Kai turned, his gaze meeting a woman’s sharp, glaring eyes. He opened his mouth to bow in greeting, but he quickly realized her scowl wasn’t for him—it was directed squarely at you.

Confused, Kai glanced back at you, his eyes scanning your face. Panic was written all over it. You hastily scribbled on your notepad, the letters uneven and rushed: Step-mother. Go home now, Kai.

He read the words and nodded, even if he didn’t fully grasp the situation. When your eyes met his again, there was something pleading in them. Turning back to the woman, Kai mustered a polite bow. “Good evening,”

She didn’t acknowledge him. “Go inside or we’ll lock you out here all night.”

Kai froze, the words almost too cruel to believe. He remembers you being locked up that night at school. His jaw clenched, but he kept his expression neutral, eyes flicking back to you. You were already scribbling again: Good night. Be safe travelling home.

He noticed something then—why hadn’t you signed it? He’d learned those words, and he knew you knew them too. But he didn’t ask, didn’t want to add to your distress. Instead, he nodded silently, stepping forward to close the distance between you. He bent down and pressed a light, lingering kiss to your hairline. A small gesture to remind you that he was here, even if he had to leave now. "See you later."

When he straightened, he turned to your stepmother, who was staring at him with thinly veiled disdain. Kai met her gaze, nodded politely, and then stepped back.

He didn’t look away until he saw you retreat inside.

The gates slammed shut with a force that rattled him. Your stepmother's tone echoed in his ears, harsh and dripping with contempt. He hated the way she’d spoken to you, the way her eyes had looked at you as though you did something so wrong.

He walked away, fists clenched at his sides. The thought of you living in a house with someone like that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Kai reunited with you the next day.

He carefully tried to bring up the encounter with your stepmother, but you avoided the topic entirely. He didn’t push, though. Instead, he quietly accepted it when you told him you lived with her, your stepsisters, and that your father was out of town on business. He said he’d wait—that he’d listen when you were ready to open up, when you felt comfortable.

Now, he’s on his way to the band room, arriving half an hour early for practice. His hand is wrapped around yours as he pulls you along. The soft warmth of your fingers in his feels just right. Students pass by, glancing your way, but Kai doesn’t care. Not when you’re here with him.

You agreed to come, though you weren’t sure what to expect. When you step into the room, your eyes widen. Trophies line the shelves, instruments are arranged neatly against the walls, and there’s a large, inviting couch in the corner. There's also a small door that must lead to a private bathroom.

Kai settles you on the couch, his lips curving into a gentle smile as he pulls his guitar out of its case. He tells you he wanted you to see this. He also mentions the upcoming festival in two days—a subtle invitation in his words.

As he strums the first notes, your eyes are drawn to him. The memory of the first time you saw Kai surfaces—your second year of high school. That day, he was being calmed down by Soobin, the band’s previous genius pianist. Even then, he left an impression so strong that you couldn’t forget him, no matter how much time had passed.

Now, sitting here in the band room as he plays his guitar for you, it feels surreal. If someone had told you back then that this would happen, you’d have laughed it off or called it impossible. But here you are, and he glances up, his eyes flickering between the strings and your face.

"I like it," you sign.

Kai’s face lights up. He reaches for something—your eyes are drawn to his hands. There, faint guitar scars run across his fingers, etched into his skin like a map of all the hours he’s poured into his craft.

An idea enters your mind.

Two days later, the school day comes to an end. You quietly pack your belongings, slipping books and papers into your bag as the chatter of students fills the room. The festival is less than an hour away. You’re just about to zip up your bag when movement near the doorway catches your attention.

Choi Beomgyu steps into the classroom, his eyes scanning the room like he’s on a mission. You glance at him curiously as Taehyun notices and stands up, greeting him with a nod then points in your direction. Beomgyu makes his way over with Taehyun trailing behind him. "Hi, Y/N," he signs, the motion catching you completely off guard. Your eyes widen in surprise. Did Kai teach him that? Did he teach both of them?

Before you can even process the thought, Beomgyu hands you a folded shirt. You take it hesitantly, inspecting it as the fabric unfurls in your hands. The moment you see the name Huening Kai printed boldly on the back, your heart skips. It’s his band shirt.

“He’ll love it,” Beomgyu says, a small grin tugging at his lips and winks. He reaches out, lightly tapping your head like it’s the most casual thing in the world. Without another word, he throws an arm around Taehyun’s shoulders, and the two of them leave the classroom together. Some girls in your room look at you with dirty looks. It matters not, you'll have to change your shirt first.

Kai’s eyes catch on your shirt almost instantly, his pace slowing as he closes the distance between you.

Confusion flits across his face, but then realization dawns. His band shirt. His name, his number on your back. His eyes widen in disbelief, and he lets out a laugh.

When you’re close enough, he reaches out, gently turning you around so he can see the full print. His fingers linger lightly on your shoulders. His grin widens, a mix of pride and something softer that you can’t quite name.

“You’ll watch, right?” he asks. His throat feels tight, and it’s not just the sight of you in his shirt—it’s everything it means.

You nod, slowly reaching into your pocket, pulling out a small gift box. You hold it out to him, “For me?” he asks softly, taking it with both hands.

When he opens the box, his breath catches in his throat. Inside are guitar picks, each one smooth and carefully chosen, but what draws his attention is the tiny, handwritten phrase etched onto them. He squints, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tilts the pick closer to the light.

See you later.

The phrase so familiar, a staple in all your goodbyes. It’s what he always waits to hear from you, what he secretly pouts about if you forget to say it. It’s a simple phrase, used by so many people in passing, but between the two of you, it’s different—reassurance that you’ll always find your way back to each other.

His chest tightens, emotion welling up in a way he hadn’t expected. He steps forward, pulls you into a hug, holding you close, his chin resting on your head. "What do I do with you?" He whispers to himself. He finally pulls back, his hands linger at your elbows, eyes searching yours. You lift your hands to sign, your movements slow.

"Good luck, rock star."

Soobin’s hand rested on your back, touch steadying as the crowd began to thicken around the stage. Kai had entrusted you to him and Yeonjun, and though the absence of Kai’s presence made you nervous, Soobin’s calm demeanour offered an unexpected sense of safety.

Yeonjun had gone to grab water, leaving you and Soobin to hold your place by the barricade. The festival was just moments away from starting, with students from your school, other schools, and alumni who had come back for the event. You found yourself gripping the metal tightly, the unfamiliar place… overwhelming. It's your first time to even attend one.

Soobin noticed immediately. He tapped your shoulder gently, “Are you okay?”

You turned to him, his concern reflected in his face. You nodded, returning a small smile. His kindness felt natural. You could see why Kai spoke of him so fondly.

You barely had time to respond before you were pulled into a sudden hug. The embrace was tight, and a sweet floral scent filled your senses. You froze in surprise, but when the person stepped back, the grin on her face was so bright and genuine that you couldn’t help but soften.

“Hi! I’m Hiyyih!” she exclaimed, her face full of excitement, her eyes shining like she’d been waiting forever to meet you. Her name made you pause, recognition flashing through your mind. Your eyes widened slightly, but you smiled back at her, quickly scribbling in your notepad.

Y/N. Nice to meet you, Hiyyih.

She read it, and immediately squealed, her reaction so heartfelt and full of life that it drew laughter from Soobin. “How did my brother pull you, huh?” she teased, shaking her head in disbelief. Then, with mock irritation, she turned to Soobin and added, “Seriously, how?”

Soobin chuckled, clearly amused. “I know. She's too pretty. Magic, maybe,” he offered casually, and Hiyyih groaned dramatically. She hooked her arm through yours, as if you’d known each other for years. You're glad they didn't mention the blush evident on your cheeks.

Yeonjun returned, handing you a cold bottle of water. “You okay?” he asked, his tone just as kind and considerate as Soobin’s had been. You nodded again, clutching the water tightly as you looked between them all—Hiyyih’s bright enthusiasm, Soobin’s quiet reassurance, and Yeonjun’s laid-back charm. It feels nice to be surrounded by people you want to be with.

You could get used to this. Being with people who made you feel like you mattered—more than your own family ever had.

It was dark now, the festival lit only by the vibrant glow of stage lights, casting shifting colours across the crowd. The ground trembled beneath your feet as people jumped and swayed, their cheers blending with the music in an electrifying symphony.

Your eyes scanned the stage, searching—and then you saw him. Kai. There he was, guitar in hand, lost in the music. The way he moved was effortless as if the instrument was an extension of himself. His face was lit up, not just by the stage lights but by a joy that radiated from within. He looked alive. Happy. He belonged there. He owns it.

And then his eyes found yours.

The chaos around you seemed to fade. Slowly, you signed, "You look cool," your hands steady even as your heart raced. You watched as his gaze followed the movement of your hands, his eyes softening with every word you formed. You didn’t need to be close to him. You didn’t need to hear his voice. As long as you could see him—and he could see you.

His lips curved into a smile, and he winked, the playful gesture making you smile back, heart swelling with pride.

The performance was incredible, each member of the band owning their moment, their energy filling the space and igniting the crowd. When the last song ended, the crowd erupted into cheers, and the band bowed together, camaraderie evident even from a distance. But before you could fully take in the scene, Kai was running.

The moment he stepped off the stage, his eyes searched for your face. His shoulders eased as soon as he saw you, surrounded by people he trusts. He loves performing—he truly does. But the thought of returning to you, is louder than any applause. His feet move before his mind can think.

Straight to you.

He reached you in seconds, his chest heaving, adrenaline still coursing through him. "I can't stop looking at you,” he said, his voice low, the words had been waiting to escape all night. His hands cradled your face, calloused by the guitar scars. "I need to kiss you right now or I'll go crazy."

You barely noticed the stares of the crowd or the murmurs of those nearby. All you could see was him. He leaned in, his breath mingling with yours, and his lips brushed against yours in the softest kiss. You’d always known his lips looked soft, but they still managed to surprise you—how perfectly they fit against yours.

When he pulled back, his grin was so wide. His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close as if you were the only thing that mattered. Around you, his friends clapped him on the back, their faces proud with congratulations.

“See you later?” Kai signed, his movements fluid, more confident. You nodded with a smile, waving as he stepped back. His grin widened, and he watched you enter the gates of your home.

That smile lingered on your face, carrying you all the way inside. The front doors opened for you, the maids greeting you with quiet bows, and you headed for the staircase, ready to retreat to your room.

But before you could take the first step, a hand seized your wrist and yanked you back. The slap came next, sharp and sudden, leaving a sting that spread across your cheek like fire. Startled, your hand flew to your face, and your wide, disbelieving eyes met the furious glare of your stepmother.

“You skipped your painting lesson,” she hissed, face trembling with anger, “and came home late without even telling me.”

“And what for?” she spat. “To loiter with boys? To parade yourself in public, chatting in sign language for the entire neighbourhood to see? What else do you have left to ruin? Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is for the family?” Her voice grew louder, shriller, her hand resting on her hip as she glared at you like you were something she could barely tolerate.

You noticed your stepsisters standing just out of the line. Equal anger on their faces. It was clear—they had told her. Once, their expressions had the power to make you shrink, to make you doubt yourself. Now you felt nothing but disdain. Family, you thought bitterly, scoffing as you turned your head away.

Your stepmother’s hand shot out, grabbing your chin and jerking your face back toward hers. Her nails bit into your skin as she snarled, “Did you laugh? How dare you laugh at me?”

You shoved her hand away. “Don’t touch me,” you signed, your movements sharp, gaze unwavering. You didn’t care that she couldn’t understand. This was the only way you could speak, and you were tired of swallowing your voice.

Her face twisted with fury. “I said stop using sign language!” she barked.

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you signed again, your hands trembling. “I’m not alone anymore,” you told her, the tears burning at the edges of your vision. “You can be the queen of this house, control everything and everyone under this roof. But there’s a world outside these walls. And out there, I have friends. People who see me. People who care.”

“Talk! Talk like a proper person! I told you to talk!” The slap came hard and fast, snapping your head to the side. Your cheek burned with the impact, but this time, you didn’t freeze. You pushed her. Hard.

The room erupted with a collective gasp.

“Touch me again, and you’ll see your name in the newspaper.” Your glare shifted to Chae-won as she stepped forward, her mouth opening to speak, but you didn’t wait to hear what she had to say.

You bolted up the stairs, your heart hammering in your chest, panic fueling every frantic step.

The space felt thick as you threw yourself into your room, slamming the door shut behind you. You moved toward your desk, your hands shaking as you tore your bag open, yanking out a piece of paper. You didn’t have time to think, only enough to scrawl a desperate message, the words barely legible through the blur of your haste.

The door creaked open behind you. Panic surged. You turned, your pulse pounding as you spotted them—the maids stepping into the room. You bolted to the fax machine, shoving the paper in and frantically typing his number. You had to send it. You had to.

The machine whirred, halfway through sending, when two pairs of hands grabbed you, one on each arm. You thrashed and kicked, trying to wrench free, but their grip was too strong. Your stepmother appeared in the doorway, her smirk was cruel, triumphant, and your stomach churned with dread.

And then you saw it—the glint of metal in her hands. Locks.

"Get her upstairs. Now." Your breath caught in your throat. The room seemed to tilt as a memory surged forward, unbidden and suffocating. The attic. The last time she locked you up, you were fifteen. Your skin crawled at the thought of being trapped there again. You were dragged out, your feet sliding against the floor, your cries echoing down the empty hall. It took three of them—three people to overpower you, until the door loomed.

They shoved you inside, your body hitting the floor with a dull thud. You scrambled to your feet, lunging for the door, but it slammed shut in your face. You pounded on the door, fists aching, tears burning behind your eyes. It was harder for you to breathe.

This was her punishment—her way of crushing you every time you dared to fight back, dared to speak your truth.

She’d leave you here, in the dark, in the suffocating silence, until you broke. Until you admitted she was right. Or until your father’s nearing return forced her to let you out, pretending everything was fine.

You had tried to tell him before. Slipping notes into his pockets, scribbling messages when she wasn’t looking. But her eyes were always there, sharp and watchful, snatching away every chance you had. You can’t help but wonder—if you hadn’t stood up to her, if you hadn’t accepted that small, fleeting chance to feel alive, would you still be here right now? Or would you just be trapped in another kind of prison, shackled to the cycle your stepmother has forced you into?

Dust coated every surface, the faint light that seeped through the cracks wasn’t even enough to pierce the gloom to give you hope. You curled up against the wall, knees pulled to your chest, fingers trembling as they pressed against the cold floor. It was something that you had to endure before.

For years.

Kai was running.

He didn’t care about the stares from strangers or the disapproving grunt as he ran the streets. He didn’t care about his mother’s worried gaze when he bolted out the door or the sting of his lungs from sprinting so fast. None of it mattered. All that mattered was getting to you.

The fax had come just minutes ago. He had been half-asleep when the machine whirred, spitting out a crumpled piece of paper with words that sent a shrill down his spine.

Kai, pick me up. Come get me, please. He knew it was you.

His heart pounded as he reached your gates, the mansion unwelcoming under the grey sky. He rang the door frantically, and when a maid opened the door, her polite greeting barely had time to escape her lips before Kai pushed past her.

“Sir, what are you doing?” she cried, alarmed. But Kai didn’t stop. He pushed through the grand double doors, his eyes scanning the room wildly. His gaze landed on a young woman, about his age—your stepsister, he realized with a flare of anger.

“Where’s Y/N?” he demanded, his voice booming through the space. The room fell silent. The maids froze, glancing at one another nervously, while your stepsister stiffened, her lips tightening into a scowl. “Where is she?” Kai shouted again, taking a step forward. A timid maid finally cracked, her wide eyes darting toward the stairs before quickly looking away. It was all he needed.

Kai took off, his legs carrying him up the staircase two steps at a time. As he neared the top, he heard it—a faint pounding, far but desperate. His blood ran cold as realization struck.

The attic.

Kai’s chest tightened as he reached the door. His fist slammed against the wood, the sound reverberating down the hall. The pounding on the other side grew more. His heart felt like it might tear itself apart.

“Open this door!” he says, spinning to face the maids who had followed him upstairs. “What the hell is wrong with you people? Do you want to go to prison for this? Do you want to be accomplices?” The maid who’d glanced upstairs earlier flinched, her hands shaking as she fumbled with a key.

Finally, the lock clicked, and he shoved the door open. His breath caught as he saw you huddled on the floor, your arms wrapped tightly around your knees, your face streaked with tears. “Y/N,” he breathed, rushing to you.

"You found me." You signed, eyes locking on his. He crouched, his arms wrapping around your trembling frame. He pulled you close, his hand smoothing over your hair as he held you against his chest.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m getting you out of this place.” His eyes darted around the attic, taking in the oppressive walls, scattered drawings—sketches you must’ve made. Some looks old, others newer. They had been locking you up here. Trapping you.

Kai stood, pulling you with him, “Come on,” his hand tightened around yours, and you nodded.

He led you down the stairs, his grip never faltering. At the bottom, your stepmother appeared, her expression twisting into one of fury the moment she saw him.

“Do you even realise what you’re doing right now?” she demanded, her voice sharp and grating. “This is kidnapping. Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?”

Kai didn’t flinch. He didn’t hesitate. His voice was steady, cold, and razor-sharp. “Not as serious as imprisonment. Or abuse.”

Her lips curled into a mocking sneer. “I’m disciplining her,” she spat, as if the word justified everything.

Your stepmother’s eyes flicked to you as your hands moved, signing. “You’re hurting me.”

Her face darkened. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop signing?”

Kai froze, his mind reeling at her words. “What?” he said, voice low. His jaw tightened as he stared at her, fury building in his chest. “How do you expect her to communicate if she can’t speak?”

She sneered. “Return her inside while I’m still asking nicely,”

“No,” Kai snapped, he turned to her fully, standing tall and unyielding. “I’m not talking to you. Tell her father, when he finally gets home, to come find me personally if he wants to see his daughter again. And don’t even think about stopping me. My mother knows I’m here.”

Your stepmother opened her mouth to argue, but Kai didn’t give her the chance. He turned away, tugging you along behind him as he strode toward the door. His glare silenced any maids who dared step forward, daring anyone to challenge him.

“If you walk out that door,” your stepmother hissed, “you’ll regret it.”

Kai didn’t stop. He didn’t even look back.

The cool night air hit your skin as he pulled you through the gates and into the street. He didn’t care about her threats. He didn’t care about what came next. The only thing he knew was—he would regret it far more if he didn’t leave with you tonight.

When the two of you arrived at Kai’s home, his mother was already at the door, her face filled with concern. The moment she saw you, her eyes softened, but they couldn’t hide the shock and sadness she felt at your condition. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said gently, ushering you inside with open arms. “Let’s get you settled.”

She led you to a spare room, “This was Lea’s room,” she explained with a small smile. “Kai’s sister. She’s away at college now, so it’s all yours for as long as you need.”

Kai, stepped outside, pacing the front yard. His hands clenched and unclenched, breathing unevenly as he tried to calm himself. “How could they do that to her? As human beings?” he spits, in disbelief. “Even animals wouldn’t treat someone like that.”

His mother followed him out, gently placing a hand on his arm. “Kai, breathe,” she said softly. “She needs space to process everything right now.”

Kai shook his head, “What you did was good,” his mother continued. “Let her stay here for now. She’s safe with us.”

“And what happens when her father comes back?” Kai snapped, “What then? She just gets sent back to that place?”

His mother sighed, her grip on his arm steady. “Kai, it’s obvious he doesn’t know what’s been happening. Do you think any father would knowingly allow this?”

“That man, he lives in the same house as her. How does he not know? He’s either blind or he doesn’t care because all he does is make money and turn ignorant to everything else.”

His mother stepped closer, pulling him into a hug before he could spiral further. “It’s not your place to decide what kind of father he is, or if she should forgive him. That’s up to her. Right now, she needs rest.”

You sat curled up on the edge of the bed, knees pulled tightly to your chest, your back pressed into the corner. Your fingers picked at your nailbeds. Every breath you took felt shaky, like you were on the verge of falling apart.

It was the first time you’d ever stood up to them—to that whole oppressive house. The weight of it settled heavily on your chest, but more than that, you worried about Kai. About his family. Would they be okay with you here? What if they went after Kai or his family for taking you in? Would your presence bring trouble to their door? You felt like a curse, dragging misfortune wherever you went.

The sight of the door sliding open startled you. You looked up to see Kai’s mom stepping in, her form soft in the dim light. She carried a stack of clothes in her hands, a small smile on her face.

“Hiyyih’s already asleep, so I had to grab these for you,” she said, setting it down in front of you. “These are Lea’s—Kai’s sister. I’m not sure if you’ll like them, but I thought these might fit you.”

You nodded silently, your heart pounding as you glanced at her. You could not shake the fear that she might say you’d put Kai in danger, that bringing you here was a mistake. Or how much trouble you might’ve caused him. The guilt plague, making your stomach turn.

She didn’t say anything at first, just sat there, her gaze soft and thoughtful. Then her smile widened, and her eyes crinkled at the corners like Kai does. “Gosh, you’re so pretty,” she said, as if she was stating the most obvious fact in the world. “Look at your eyes—they’re so clear, so bright.” Her words made your breath hitch.

“Not being able to talk must be so hard,” she continued, face replaced with sadness. “You must’ve felt so upset. So frustrated.” She moved closer, her hands reaching for yours. Her touch was warm, and something about it made the tears in your eyes sting even more.

“But you did such a good job, honey,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “Growing up into such a beautiful, strong young lady.” Her thumb gently brushed the back of your hand, and she smiled again, “I’m proud of you.”

Her words shattered something inside you, breaking through the walls you’d tried so hard to keep up. You bit down on your lip, but it was no use. The tears slipped free, rolling down your cheeks.

“If anyone ever hurts you again, if anyone tries to trap you, you come here,” she said firmly, her tone shifting to one of conviction. “Don’t ever put up with it. Just come back here. Or stay here and live with me." She grinned at the thought, expression animated, like it was the simplest solution in the world.

You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You cried, your shoulders trembling as the sobs punished your body. All the days you had endured in silence. The days they made you feel invisible, like you didn’t matter. The way they looked at you, spoke about you, treated you, as though you were something other, something different. Not belonging. Not normal.

"Don't cry," She pulled you into her arms, holding you tightly as she rubbed your back in soothing circles. You were starting to see it wasn’t true. Starting to believe. And her embrace is so… familiar. It was like holding onto a memory you’d been too afraid to revisit—the one you’d clung to as a lifeline but had started to fade, little by little.

It felt like you were eight again, back in time—cradled in your mother’s warm arms.

Kai stood at your door, it's been an hour when he saw his mother leaving, her eyes red from crying. She had tried to reassure him to give you space, to let you be alone tonight—but Kai's heart couldn’t rest. He knocked softly before slipping inside.

You were facing away from him, the sheets pulled up high against your body. He walked over, unsure of what to expect, and tapped a single finger on your shoulder to check if you were awake. You shifted and glanced back at him, your face still soft with the remnants of tears.

He offered a small smile, his hands signing softly, “Hi.”

You didn’t respond with words instead, you scooted over, making room for him on the bed. He slid in beside you, leaving just enough space between you both. “Are you okay?” he signed, his face filled with concern.

“Yes,” you replied quietly, your fingers moving slowly, tracing the air. “Because you always come whenever I need someone.”

His heart skipped a beat. “Anything for you,” he whispered, gaze never left yours. "I'll do anything for you,"

His fingers slowly lifted to cradle your face, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed at the touch, and Kai could feel your breath hitch. You shifted closer to him, pressing your head to his chest, seeking his intoxicating smell.

He tucked you in carefully, his arm lying beneath your head as his head rested gently on top of yours. His touch was warm and soothing as his hand trailed down your back, the warmth from his skin seeping through the fabric of your clothes. You closed your eyes, feeling the calm settle in your chest, until a small movement in his chest caught your attention.

You pulled back slightly, confusion in your eyes. His face was soft, but his eyes shimmered with tears that hadn't yet fallen. His lips parted, searching for the right words. “How did you put up with all of that?” he whispered, a tear slipping down his right cheek. His chest seemed to tighten with the weight of the question. “What they did to you, it was the worst. I— should've found you sooner. I promise… you will not be alone anymore, okay?”

You nod, tearing up at his words. It was the first time someone made a promise to you that you knew he wouldn't break. A small smile found its way to your lips. His hands moved, fingers gently pressed against your palm as he spelled out.

"You're safe now,"

You wake up slowly, your eyes squinting as they adjust to the soft morning light spilling into the room.

Kai's arms are still wrapped around your waist, his body pressed against yours, his face nestled against your chest. You gently trace the lines of his face with your fingers, captivated by the details you never want to forget—the way his freckles and moles give his features a softness, an angelic quality. He's so beautiful. The light in a world that once felt so dark. In a life that’s often felt like a nightmare, he’s the one thing that pulled you into the almost impossible daylight.

You lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He murmurs in his sleep but doesn’t stir. You smile softly at his innocence, feeling your heart flutter. You try to untangle your legs from his, hesitant to leave the safety of his embrace, but you slowly make your way out of the bed.

As you step into the living room, the smell of breakfast makes your stomach rumble. You find Kai’s mom and Hiyyih already in the kitchen. The latter smiles warmly at you. “Good morning,” she greets, and you return the smile.

Breakfast is simple but comforting. The food amazing, your appetite comes back little by little with every bite.

When you’re finished, Hiyyih looks at you with a bright smile. “Want to help me with the lunch boxes?” she asks, and you nod eagerly. She helps you slip on an apron, her fingers fumbling with the straps as she giggles. It's contagious, and makes you smile.

She pulls her hair back into a ponytail, a few strands fall loose, and you reach for your notepad. You quickly scribble, Let me braid your hair?

Hiyyih’s eyes widen with delight, and she nods. You gather her hair gently, carefully weaving the strands together. A soft smile spread across her face at the comforting touch of your hands.

Kai stretched his arm to your side, but the space was empty.

His eyes snapped open, sleep quickly fading as he registered the absence of your presence. He sat up abruptly, fumbling to slide his feet into his house slippers, the soft padding of his steps barely audible as he hurried out of the room.

Where could you have gone? Has someone come to take you home? His thoughts raced, each one more frantic than the last. He barely noticed the cold air of the hallway as he hurried toward the kitchen—then he stopped, heart halting in his chest.

There you were.

The tension melted away as he took in the scene. You stood at the counter, laughter spilling from your lips as you helped Hiyyih pack three lunch boxes. The soft fabric of an apron hugged your frame, and his mother moved gracefully beside you, pouring cups of steaming chocolate milk, a soft smile gracing her lips as she watched the two of you.

Your eyes found his, and the world seemed to slow. A smile softened your features as you raised a hand, signing a simple "Hi," and motioning for him to come closer.

"Good morning," Kai murmured. His heart swelled at the scene before him—three women who meant the world to him. "Morning, Mom."

The two watched as Kai closed the small distance between you and him. He softly placed his hands on your shoulders, the touch gentle. Then, he leaned down, pressing a light, quick kiss to the top of your head. His small act makes you blush.

"Good morning, Son," his mother interrupts warmly, passing him a plate of pancakes and sausages. "Y/N and Hiyyih have already eaten. Here’s your breakfast."

Kai took his seat, the clatter of cutlery mingling with the soft sounds of your and Hiyyih’s giggles. His mother, ever attentive, placed a notepad on the counter, making sure nothing was lost in translation as she communicated with you.

If you truly want to express something, you’ll find a way. And if you want to say even more, you’ll learn, until your heart speaks louder than words ever could.

It was the first time you were in a car, heading to school, and there was a grin you couldn’t wipe from your face.

Everything felt lighter today—the warmth of Hiyyih’s arm gently looping around yours, and every now and then, Kai’s glance in the rearview mirror caught yours.

Last night seemed to burn away, slipping from your mind like smoke on the breeze. The car pulled up, and you all said your goodbyes to Kai’s mom, her lips warm against your cheek as she kissed you. “What food would you like later?” Her question made you pull her into a tight hug, surprising her with the warmth you hadn’t known you had in you. It's true, that if you surround yourself with better people, you'll be better too.

It felt like everyone in school was watching, but you didn’t mind. Kai’s hand in yours felt so right, and Hiyyih was chatting away beside you, making everything feel like a dream. When the time came for Hiyyih to part ways, she also kissed your cheek with a smile, waving goodbye.

Kai’s eyes were on you, a smirk tugging at his lips as you laughed softly. He loved seeing you so light, so happy. When he walked you to your class, you bumped into Taehyun, who ruffled your hair with a grin and a gentle pat on the head. You felt like he already knew, given that his stare much more concerned than it ever was.

Is this what it feels like to be part of something? What a family is supposed to feel like?

You washed your hands in the sink, the corners of your lips still tugged into a faint smile. But the moment was cut short when a splash of cold water hit you, soaking your uniform. You gasped, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to your skin. You only know two people who find joy in these acts. Turning quickly, you saw Chae-won and Yun-jin standing there, flanked by three other girls whose names you didn’t even know but who were always with them.

“Are you done living your life like a victim?” Chae-won’s voice rang out, sharp and biting. A few other students in the bathroom froze, unsure of what to do, before slipping out the door, desperate to avoid being caught in the middle.

“Go home,” she spat, her glare searing. “I’m not letting my mother deal with trash like you.”

Your chest tightened, but you refused to show it. You held her gaze for a beat longer than you thought you could, then turned to leave. The quicker you got out of their sight, the better. You don't want to waste your energy on dealing with her. But before you could make it to the door, two of them grabbed your arms roughly and shoved you back.

“Go home now,” one of them hissed. “Or I’ll make sure everyone knows just how pathetic you really are.”

Something inside you snapped. The words stung, but your hand moved faster than your thoughts. The slap echoed in the tiled bathroom. Chae-won’s face twisted in shock before anger overtook her features. She lunged, pushing you into a cubicle. Her hands tangled in your hair as you tried to fight back, her nails digging into your arm as you struggled to block her strikes.

They always kept it hidden, their cruelty tucked away in the shadows—behind the closed doors of your home, in the quiet corners of the art room, places where no one else would see. Never here. Never out in the open like this. These were the same people you once looked at with longing, the ones you dreamed would someday call you their friend.

Tears blurred your vision as you struggled to catch your breath. The sharp ache in your scalp subsided when Chae-won was suddenly yanked off you, her grip torn away by a rough hand.

Hiyyih. Your eyes widened as you saw her, fierce and blazing with anger. “Get the fuck away from my sister, bitch!” she screamed, face cracking with rage. Before Chae-won could recover, Hiyyih kicked her hard on her thigh, her fury igniting as she saw the blood smeared across your arms.

Another girl was with her, someone you vaguely recognized, stepping in to help. Suddenly, it was three against five, chaos erupting in the cramped bathroom.

Hiyyih glared daggers at Yun-jin, voice trembling with raw emotion. “You think you can just hurt people? You think you’re strong because you can?”

The bathroom erupted into noise—shouting, scuffling, and the sound of feet scrambling for safety. Students crowded at the doorway, peeking in with wide eyes, while others bolted to find a teacher. You stayed close to Hiyyih, your chest tight with fear. What if they hurt her the way they hurt you?

You felt yourself shoved against the counter in the commotion, your pulse pounding in your ears. And then, cutting through the chaos, you saw them. Three figures pushed their way through the crowd, pushing onlookers, unconcerned that this was a girls’ bathroom.

Kai. Beomgyu. Taehyun.

Everything seemed to blur as Kai desperately reached you, pulling you close against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, steady and protective, shielding you from anyone.

“Enough!” Beomgyu shouts. “This ridiculous cat fight ends now.”

Kai’s hands cupped your face, his touch trembling as he scanned your cuts and bruises. His jaw tightened, his eyes dark with anger and fear. His eyes check his sister, now standing between Beomgyu and Taehyun. He exhaled sharply, pulling you behind him, his body a wall between you and the rest of the room.

“Stop this,” he said coldly, his words directed at Chae-won, who was fixing her hair with a smug expression. "This is your last warning—stay away from her.”

Chae-won sneered, venom dripping from her voice. “Why do you keep protecting that… thing?” she spat. “She’s abnormal. She can’t hear. She made us miserable. She’s selfish, always making everything about her. She plays the victim like it’s a sport.”

Her words made Hiyyih surged forward, ready to strike, but Taehyun held her back with a firm grip.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Chae-won blinked, startled by the harshness in Kai's tone—a tone so unlike the boy known for his warmth and kindness. “She’s the best person to ever walk these grounds,” Kai adds, eyes locked on Chae-won. “She’s everything you’ll never be.”

You tried to step out from behind him, to meet Chae-won’s glare head-on, but Kai’s arm gently stopped you, keeping you behind him, his body a wall between you and her cruelty.

“If anyone here isn’t normal, it’s you. Never her.”

For the first time, Chae-won’s smirk faltered, her confidence visibly shaken. Her eyes dart between Hiyyih, Beomgyu and Taehyun. They all look at her in disdain.

Her mind raced, her thoughts spiralling back to the words her mother had drilled into her—how you were less, how people would never care about you. But now—these people—they were standing with you, like they would shield you from anything that came your way. It made her gulp. She bolts outside, Yun-jin was hot on her heels, matching her pace. The other girls had already disappeared.

For the first time, she was afraid—of the consequences that might happen if she ever dared to hurt you again.

“You don’t have to forgive them, you know?” Kai says, his shoulder brushes against yours, as you both sit, legs dangling off the edge of the makeshift bench in the yard. The watermelon ice cream in your hand drips slightly, the heat of the sun melting it. His sister and mother are out of the house, shopping for tonight's supper.

“It’s okay to take your time,” he adds, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Or never forgive them at all. You can stay here with us for as long as you want. There’s no rush to figure everything out.”

You shift your feet, wiggling your toes against the warm wood beneath you. Both of you are still in the loose, comfortable clothes you threw on after rolling out of bed. No shoes, no plans—It’s a Saturday—your first weekend here.

You look at him, and the light catches his face. A small smile tugs at your lips as you sign, “You know, I’ve never given you a proper nickname.”

Kai pauses mid-bite, blinking at you in surprise at your random words. “Huh?” he mumbles around the end of his ice cream. “What do you mean?”

You let out a soft laugh, your hands moving fluidly as you explain, “Since calling out your name in sign language takes a little more effort, it’s better to give you a nickname. Something simple but special, something that means ‘you.’”

Kai’s heart stutters in his chest. How was it possible that every time he saw you sign, it felt like the first time all over again? "Wha- what would you call me?"

You smile, a little shy. You’d thought of this nickname days ago, waiting for the right moment to share it. “Diamond,” you sign, your hands forming the shape—your thumb and index finger meet to form the letter D, before tracing an elegant upward motion, like a sparkle.

Kai’s breath catches. His chest feels tight, like his heart is swelling too big for the space it’s in. Diamond. The way you did it, the way it looked—it felt intimate. "It’s beautiful."

You smile softly at him, and his entire world shifts. “I can’t hear your voice, but I see it. You shine the brightest when you’re making music. That’s when you look the coolest, like you’re untouchable… like a diamond. But even then, I don’t feel left out when I’m with you. I never felt I don't belong when I'm with you.” Your hands falter slightly, your eyes glassy with unshed tears.

Kai watches every movement, every micro-emotion on your face. He understands every word.

He’s in love with you. Completely, helplessly.

He doesn’t need to be the doctor to diagnose his own symptoms, a teacher to put his feelings into words, or to be the scientist to prove his theory. None of those roles matters because—these things will never speak as loud as his heart. He loves you. And with every moment he spends knowing you, he finds himself falling even deeper.

And now, he can give you his music—something he once thought was beyond him. Loving you has been the easiest thing he’s ever done.

Kai's desperate need consumes him as he grabs your face, his heart racing with aching desire to kiss you. His lips crash onto yours, devouring the sweetness of your watermelon-flavoured mouth. You moan, a little sound that only fuels his need as he leans back. "You're so beautiful. I need you, please." He pulls you closer and kisses you again once you nod, unable to resist his sweet kisses. He breaks away and takes your hand, leading you. Like he always does.

You let him pull you into his room, the scent of him wrapping around you like a quiet embrace. The space feels personal—lived-in. It feels like... him.

Before you can say a word, his arms encircle you from behind, holding you close as his lips brush softly against the side of your head. His hands move slowly, sliding from your waist to your stomach. With a gentle tug, he lifts your shirt just enough to reveal the bare skin beneath. His touch is tender as his fingers graze over you, tracing delicate patterns, and caressing. Kai turns you around.

Kai's mind swirls with uncertainty. He stares into your eyes, and he signs the words that he has been holding back. "I love you." You respond by pulling him close, kissing him fiercely and tangling your fingers in his hair. Your mind is consumed by his confession, and his touches.

He pushes you onto the bed, flooding your senses with his smell. You wrap your legs around him instinctively, surprised at yourself for doing something naturally you haven't done. You're craving his touch.

"I need you," His voice is low, repeating the words. He wants to know. He wants to make sure that you're alright with this. You give a slight nod, granting him permission. He eagerly accepts, his lips crashing against yours in a frenzy of need. His hands roam your body, leaving trails of fire as he hungrily kisses down your neck. He goes down, he bites down on the fabric covering your nipples, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from you.

He gingerly lifted your shirt over your head, revealing your flushed skin. He took one of your hardened nipples into his mouth and gently sucked, watching closely as your face contorted in pleasure and your eyes fluttered shut.

He slides his hand under your silk pyjama top and gently traces the curve of your back with his fingers. He settles himself beside you, leaning as he reaches your waistband. His long fingers slip inside and finds you already wet, he spreads your lips apart and expertly flicks his finger over your clit. He adds another finger and watches your face for any signs of discomfort, peppering kisses along your cheeks as you shake your head in pleasure. Slowly, he inserts them deeper, making you grip his shoulders tightly as he stretches you.

He rolls his knuckles over your sensitive clit. With a swift movement, his hand opens like scissors, his thumb teasing your swollen nub. You let out a gasp and clutch onto his now longer hair, pulling him closer as he continues to pleasure you with his skilled fingers. Your mouths meet in a passionate kiss, his hot tongue brushing yours as he works his fingers in and out of you.

As he pulls out, you can feel his gaze on you, his eyes tracing every inch of your body. Every part of your body is beautiful.

You try to reach for his pants, but he shakes his head with a small smile. "This is all about you." He whispers, and places a kiss on your lips.

He slides into you, causing tears to escape from the corners of your eyes as you feel yourself being stretched and filled. He's so big, hot inside you. "Baby, I got you," He leans in close, his warm breath mingling with yours as he gently wipes away your tears.

Kai searches your eyes and waits for you to signal him to move again, you hummed nodding your head. He presses deeper, and the sensation makes your whole body tingle. With each thrust, he presses you further into the mattress, leaving hot kisses along your skin as his other hand finds its way back to your clit.

His lips found your ears, and he left traces of kisses. The overwhelming pleasure builds and builds until finally, you can't hold back any longer and release with a shudder. But he doesn't stop there; he continues to move inside of you groaning, pulling out before his release, he fists his erection and hot white cum comes undone on his hands. He leans down to give you a quick kiss on your forehead, smirking at your fucked out face.

Kai's touch was careful as he ran the cloth over your skin, wiping away, and cleaning you up. He worked slowly, keeping one of his hands holding your own.

When he was done, he looked up at you with that same soft smile. You feel your lips curve in response, reaching out to touch his flushed cheeks, your fingers brushing against his warm skin. The simple touch makes his smile widen into a boyish grin. You see his mouth open, saying "I love you." The same words he kept repeating over and over again even without you knowing it.

It feels unreal, like a fragile dream stitched together by your desperate mind to escape the torment of your reality. Kai doesn’t seem real—a fleeting fever dream you’re terrified will vanish the moment you wake. Your hands move almost on their own, signing the words your heart refuses to deny. "I love you too."

A floor table is set up in the yard, resting on a wide blanket with soft cushions scattered around it. Plates of food and side dishes fill the table, the space alive with chatter and laughter.

Kai sits beside you, his knee brushing yours beneath the table his hands caressing your back when no one's looking, Hiyyih is in the center, her laughter bright and infectious, while Taehyun and Beomgyu are across from you, locked in their usual back-and-forth.

Or rather, Beomgyu trying to bait Taehyun into bickering, and Taehyun rolling his eyes with amused restraint.

The sliding door opens, and Kai’s mom steps out, balancing a steaming pot in her hands. “Here comes the ramen!” she sings. The broth makes you realise just how hungry you are.

She begins ladling out bowls, and the clinking of utensils signals the start of the meal. As the first bite warms your throat, the cold night seems to retreat, replaced by the simple joy of being here, with them.

You reach out toward the dessert—ripe, glossy strawberries—but your hand freezes as you see Beomgyu grab the last one. He pauses mid-bite when he catches the longing look in your eyes. “Oh,” he says, a smirk tugging at his lips. Slowly, he pulls the fruit away from his mouth, holding it out to you with his chopsticks. “Because I’m a good guy, I’ll let you have it.”

Before you can protest, Kai reaches over with his own chopsticks and snatches the strawberry back. He shoves it into Beomgyu’s mouth, earning a muffled yelp. “You can keep it,” Kai says flatly, shooting a half-hearted glare at his friend.

Taehyun bursts out laughing, pointing at Beomgyu’s shocked expression. “He’s jealous,” he teases, his grin wide.

“I am not,” Kai snaps, cheeks betraying by giving a soft pink hue. “I just don’t want his germs spreading to Y/N.”

Beomgyu, finally swallowing the strawberry, points a dramatic finger at Kai. “You little shi—”

You laugh as Beomgyu leaps to his feet, determined to catch Kai, who’s darting away with that grin that melts your heart every time. Kai—the one who didn’t just save you from your own darkness, but who opened up his world and invited you in, piece by piece.

You sigh, not out of sadness, but happiness—a feeling slowly becoming familiar. It doesn’t feel impossible anymore.

You avoid your father’s gaze, his concerned eyes scanning you with a frown etched deep into his forehead. You shift, positioning yourself behind Kai’s broad back. You can still see your father, but having Kai in front of you makes it all feel bearable—almost safe.

Your father arrived first thing in the morning, dressed sharply in his suit, as though he hadn’t wasted a second to come get you ever since he came back.

He explained everything in a rush—what he’d done back at the house. Your stepmother was gone, and she’d taken your stepsisters with her. Without a marriage binding them, he ended it quickly, as swiftly as he’d once welcomed her into your home, believing she could be a solution, a saviour for you.

The maids who had turned a blind eye or worse—enabled the abuse—were fired on the spot. And now, he was determined to make things right—determined to press charges, to hold accountable anyone who had ever hurt you. His voice cracked when he spoke of it, the guilt etched deep into his expression.

"Would you mind if I speak for a moment?" Kai asks stance proud, and unwavering. Your father looked at him, taking in the way he stood in front of you, protective. It reminded him of the days when he had stood like that for your mother—the only woman he had truly loved.

“My mom doesn’t know any sign language,” Kai begins, “But she still talks to Y/N all the time. They understand each other perfectly.” He pauses, letting the words settle.

“That’s when I realized something,” Kai continues, his gaze unwavering. “You can say anything—anything at all—if it comes from a willing heart.” He pulls out a book. It’s a little worn around the edges, its cover creased from being used so often. It’s the same sign language book he’s been studying with you, the one he’s cherished so much.

He holds it out to your father, “I thought this might help. It’s a good place to start, so you can reach her too.” Your father takes it, his fingers brushing against the cover. His lips part, voice thick with emotion, “Thank you, Kai.” He extends his hand, and Kai shakes it firmly, a quiet understanding passing between them.

Then Kai turns to you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. His mom and Hiyyih wrap you in tight hugs, their warmth lingering long after they let go. You haven’t even stepped outside the gate yet, but they’re already asking when you’ll come back.

You smile, trying to give them an answer, but the truth catches in your throat. The truth is, you don’t know if you can live your life without them anymore.

The trip back to your house was quiet.

You opened the doors, but no one was inside. No one inside, yet it felt more… welcoming than it ever had. You walk into your room, and are about to reach to close your bedrooms behind you. But before it shuts, your father steps inside.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, “For everything.” All you can do is nod silently, feeling the sting of tears welling in your eyes. You’ve thought about this moment a thousand times—how you would say everything you’ve kept inside, how you’d finally tell him that his silence and distance hurt more than the physical abuse they gave.

You wanted him to know what his absence caused, how it made everything worse. You wanted to shout, to let him feel the anger you’ve carried for so long. But as you hear his apology, you find yourself lacking the heart to do so. Because this moment—it’s the one you’ve been waiting for your entire whole life. For him to finally come back to you.

He takes a hesitant step closer, his hands trembling as they reach up to cup your face. His eyes that screams nothing but regret. “You’re the only one left who matters to me,” he says, “I’m so sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I promise—I’ll make it up to you. Somehow, I’ll make it right.” Before you know it, he pulls you into his arms, holding you as if he’s afraid to let go.

The two of you cry, clinging to each other in the quiet of the house. No other words are spoken. The walls that once held the echoes of your pain now bear witness to something… starting to heal.

The horrors of the past don’t, won't disappear, but they begin to blur, fading as you melt inside your father's arms. You close your eyes as you cry—broken sobs, like a child needing comfort after a big bad nightmare, tasting the salt of your own tears as they fall.

It tastes like forgiveness.

"Do you want to come with me on my next business trip?" your father signs, his hands moving carefully beside you in the car. "New York."

You smile at his effort, the clumsy yet intentional movements making him seem more approachable—so different from the figure you once knew.

"I'd love that, dad." His face lights up with your response, a genuine smile spreading across his lips. He looks relieved, maybe even proud, that he's able to communicate with you more clearly now. Your gaze drifts to the newspaper folded in his lap, the bold numbers marking the year—1996.

The car slows to a stop, signalling that you've arrived. Your father leans over, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. "See you daughter,"

You wave goodbye, stepping out onto the pavement, watching as the car pulls away. You clutch your shoulder bag, a soft smile playing on your lips—one that seems to have taken permanent residence these past few months. Your steps are light, your eyes brighter, and your heart hums a melody only you can hear.

Community for the Gifted: Advanced Sign Language

The words on the board seem almost dreamlike. A reminder that you're here. Everything that happened wasn't just a dream.

Before you can dwell on it, your bag is gently lifted from your hands. You turn, meeting his eyes—warm, full of affection. He dips his head, pressing a sweet, fleeting kiss to your lips, followed by another on your nose, and your brows.

"Hi, pretty girl," He says softly, shifting your bag to his other hand. He reaches for your free hand, fingers intertwining with yours. He squeezes it three times.

I love you.

Together, you step through the doors, hand in hand with the boy who loves you in ways you didn’t think anyone ever could. The boy who simply found you in your silent world. It amazes you—how one person can make life feel so undeniably worth living.

Huening Kai, who learned to speak your language, so you won't have to spend your lifetime translating your soul.

THE END.

taglist: i love you @beombunni @hyukascampfire @yunverie @gyu-tori @bamgyuuuri @saejinniestar @xylatox @lovingbeomgyudayone @virtaideen @hyunelixbun @brrytears @fancypeacepersona @tyunningstar @kejingken @usuallyunlikelyfox @ode2soob @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @lilbrorufr @vicurious28

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