✧ — written, ✦ — smau

칠드림 7DREAM

✦ WHO STOLE MY HAECHAN?

✧ group-project mates

이민형 MARK

✦ kind eyes

이제노 JENO

✦ SEOULSIMS

이동혁 HAECHAN

✦ r/UberEATS

✧ brother's best friend, part two

✧ CREAM PUFFS AND OTHER CONFESSIONS

✧ HOW TO LOSE YOUR MIND IN 3 MONTHS

✧ BEYOND PRETTY

박지성 JISUNG

✦ ALIEN SIMULATOR

✧ MY BAMJJI TURNED INTO A HUMAN?!

온리유 ONRIYU

✧ seasons

오시온 SION

✧ WHERE THE CHERRY BLOSSOMS FALL

得能 勇志 YUSHI

✧ A THOUSAND TIMES ACROSS A THOUSAND LIVES

i'm always there for her whenever i can—helping her film her hauls, carrying her mail, even sitting through her rants about which squishy brand is more slow rising or whatever. and i don't mind. being around her is honestly enough most days. but part of me wants her to notice me as more than just the friend who listens. i want to be the BOYFRIEND who listens.

i really don't want to ruin our friendship, but i also don't know how much longer i can keep pretending i'm fine with just being her friend. i'm also tired of pretending i like squishies when really... i think i'm more of a slime kinda guy...

so... how do i even start? how can i figure out if she likes me back? is there a way to confess without destroying everything we already have?

⬆️ 7 ⬇️ 💬 25

u/brownienim・6 hr. ago

slime over squishy? are u insane? no wonder she doesn't like you back

u/bamjjithegoat・6 hr. ago

?

u/greyrainnn・6 hr. ago

don't overthink it op! you've been supporting her passion all this time, which says a lot about how sweet YOU are as a person. she might already feel the same but is just waiting for you to make a real move.

u/crzy58・5 hr. ago

imo, a decade of friendship is a lot to risk. think about what you'd be okay with losing... then go from there. but considering how it seems like her squishies are the most important thing in her life rn, i wouldn't act on it lol

u/eggtarts・5 hr. ago

pls confess so i can live vicariously thru you

u/bamjjithegoat・5 hr. ago

?

u/journeymercies・3 hr. ago

confessing is always a risk, but if you've been in her life this long, there's probably more unspoken feelings there than you think!

masterlist / profiles

MASTERLIST

introduction / profiles

a ripple of ooohs erupts, and jeno sighs, tipping his head back against the beanbag like he's summoning patience from the ceiling. "for two minutes," he replies flatly. "if you think i managed to teleport, write a love letter, and slide it under yn's door in that time, be my guest."

sion narrows his eyes, pacing slowly, milking the moment. "two minutes is all it takes. you could've written the letter at home." he raises tonight's envelope high, the paper rustling in the sudden hush. "shall i refresh your memory?"

the way you always hold the door a little longer if someone's behind you, the way you make sure no one gets left carrying everything alone, the way you slow down whenever someone lags at the back. your kindness leads me to love.

the words hang heavy in the air and your stomach twists—heat crawls up the back of your neck. the letter paints a picture so vividly familiar it almost hurts—jeno jogging to catch up after you'd held the door open for him an extra beat after an impromptu convenience store run. jeno rushing to shift the bags from your hands without a word, making sure you were left carrying the light ones only, or none at all. jeno quietly falling into step beside you after class, steady as always, because you'd unconsciously slowed your pace down for renjun and jaemin's shorter strides.

you never thought anyone noticed those small, instinctive things you did—but the letter is proof that someone had.

jeno shifts, straightening slightly. his expression stays unreadable, but his gaze flickers—to you, then away. "that doesn't mean anything," he says evenly. "being polite doesn't equal secret admirer."

"polite?" sion echoes, incredulous. "polite? that's not politeness, that's devotion." he points the letter at jeno like a sword. "you, my friend, are guilty until proven innocent."

mark glances between you, jeno, and—occasionally—someone else in the corner, his knee still bouncing restlessly. jaemin mutters something under his breath, earning a shove from haechan, and chenle—chenle is watching with a grin too wide, his eyes glittering with something unspoken.

jeno finally leans forward, forearms braced on his knees. "you're reaching, sion. if i really liked yn, i wouldn't resort to cowardly letters."

the bluntness lands heavier than it should. you look away, biting the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore the flare of disappointment you can't quite name.

sion doesn't miss a beat. "bold claim. we'll circle back." he waves a hand dismissively, but his stare lingers on jeno a fraction too long before shuffling the letters in the shoebox again.

the next "suspect" doesn't even wait to be called.

"alright, alright, my turn!"

haechan bounces to his feet, throwing himself into the armchair with enough flair for two people. sprawling sideways, one leg dangling dramatically off the armrest, he grins like he's been waiting his whole life for this spotlight. 

sion raises a brow. "bold move, lee donghyuck."

"c'mon, i know you've been dying to accuse me all night, so just get to it already."

the six laugh, and you roll your eyes because he's not exactly wrong. haechan flirts with you more than anyone else does—but always in the most unserious, over-the-top way, the kind that makes it easy to brush off as a joke. still, every now and then, your pulse skips and butterflies bloom when his teasing cuts too close.

sion rolls his eyes so hard it's a miracle they don't get stuck. he plucks another envelope from the stack, skimming briefly before reading aloud.

i hate how you always get under my skin. you push every button on purpose, and i swear i'm mad every time. but then you do it again, and i realise maybe i don't hate it as much as i say i do.

the room explodes again—jaemin collapsing dramatically onto the carpet in mock agony, jisung choking on his soda, and chenle letting out a cackle so sharp it rattles the air.

and its true—you've made an art out of driving specifically, haechan, crazy. stealing his controller right before he clears a tough level, switching the sugar in his coffee for salt just to watch him spit it out, humming the wrong lyrics to his favourite michael jackson song until he snaps and shoves a pillow in your face. it's a game you never tire of, because his reactions are always so loud, so dramatic, so uniquely haechan.

it's not one-sided either. he knows exactly how to crawl under your skin too—talking over your answers in charades, calling you embarrassing nicknames in front of strangers, eating the last cookie with a smug grin. half the time you're exasperated, the other half you're laughing so hard your stomach aches.

that's the thing about your relationship with haechan—you drive each other mad, but you'd both miss the chaos if it wasn't there.

haechan slaps the armrest with both hands, triumphant. "yup! that's me! yn annoys the fuck out of me, but what can i say? i'm a masochist."

sion's jaw tightens. "so you're admitting it?"

"of course i admit it," haechan shoots back smoothly, smirk widening. "we annoy each other because we care. who else has the guts to keep her humble?"

chenle wheezes, mumbling incoherently about how your dynamic actually sounds sweet, to which haechan immediately retorts, tossing a pillow across the room at him.

sion steps closer, circling the armchair like a predator closing in on its prey. "so all those times you've been glued to her side? the stupid nicknames? the endless teasing? that wasn't just for your own sick entertainment, was it?"

haechan gasps theatrically, hand to his chest. "your honour, objection! leading the witness."

"this isn't court!" sion snaps.

"sure feels like one." jeno mutters.

haechan lounges deeper into the chair, propping his chin on his palm with the kind of smirk that makes you want to a hurl a cushion at his face. "fine. you want my confession? here it is! yeah, she annoys me, and yeah, i annoy her back. but am i out here writing love letters like some tragic shakespeare character? nah. not really my style."

"convenient denial," sion mutters, narrowing his eyes.

"convenient truth," haechan counters, grinning wider. "besides—" his gaze flickers towards you, playful but softer for just a fraction of a second—"if i had something to say, i wouldn't need paper and ink. i'd make sure she heard it loud and clear, baby."  

collective groans fill the room immediately, renjun smacking his forehead, while jisung mutters, "you're disgusting," under his breath.

sion pinches the bridge of his nose, visibly torn between throttling haechan and moving on. finally, he throws his hands up in defeat. "fine. whatever. you're still on the list, though. don't think you're in the clear just because you're able to gaslight your way out of my interrogation."

haechan laughs, shaking his head in amusement while sliding out of the armchair with a flourish, arms raised like he's just won a round. he flops back onto the couch, immediately yanking jaemin's blanket just to spite him, while sion groans into his palms.

you can't help it—you laugh, the tension splintering for just a second. because if there's one thing haechan will always do, it's fill the room with noise, leaving no space for silence or secrets to settle too long.

and maybe that's why, even as the letters loom larger, nobody really wants the game to end just yet.

the first time you realise lee haechan is going to be a problem, he's sitting far too close to you in class. his desk, technically, leaves enough space between yours to avoid suspicion, but his body doesn't seem to care for boundaries. his elbow brushes yours every few seconds, his knees stretching wide and unapologetically, as though he needs the constant reminder that you're real and right by his side.

"could you—" you hesitate, coughing softly into your fist before continuing, "could you sit a little further from me?"

haechan doesn't budge. if anything, his grin only widens. tilting his head so his messy brown hair falls into his eyes. "why? are you afraid of me?" his voice drops theatrically, the teasing lilt a little too practiced.

when you don't answer right away, he leans closer still, lowering his voice as if he's confiding in you. "or… is it because i'm too close and you're getting shy?"

you shake your head firmly, though your chest gives the faintest, most unwelcome hitch. "no, it's not that," you reply, clearing your throat. "its just—you reek of smoke, and i can't stand the smell of cigarettes." another cough breaks through your words, sharp enough to make you wince. "i have mild asthma, you see."

for once, haechan doesn't have a comeback ready. his smile falters as his eyes widen, tracing over your features like he's replaying your words in his head on loop. "so… you're feeling sick… because of me?"

"hm—i guess you could say that."

the silence that follows is odd for him, but only lasts about three seconds before haechan abruptly shoves his chair back with a screech that makes the entire class look over. without a word, he stalks towards the back of the room where the trash can sits, yanks a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, and crushes them in this fist. the sound is almost violent, his knuckles white as he tosses the broken pieces into the bin.

then, in true lee haechan fashion, he turns dramatically to the class, poining a finger at the room with unearned authority. "i won't smoke again until the day i die!" he declared, voice ringing through the classroom. "so none of you are allowed to smoke either! if i catch anyone with a cigarette in hand, i'll—i'll kill you."

a pause.

from the corner, jeno mutters flatly, "you're the only one who smokes in this class, idiot…"

the whole room bursts into laughter, and haechan glares, but his eyes flicker back to you almost instantly—softening, almost sheepish. for someone who usually thrives on attention, his only concern now seems to be whether you're still coughing.

that becomes his new obsession.

within a week, you realise haechan has appointed himself your official-unofficial bodyguard against all secondhand smoke on campus. he barges into the boys' restroom mid-break, wagging a finger at freshmen and upperclassmen alike caught lighting up. "put it out! yn walks this way sometimes. what if she happens to breathe in your poisonous air?!"

his antics are ridiculous enough to cause a stir, yet he's unfazed by the mocking laughter that follows him out. he only beams proudly when he catches sight of you nearby, as though waiting for you to pat his head for being good.

you'd be lying if you said you weren't bewildered—maybe even a little touched—by the dedication.

but haechan's devotion isn't always subtle. he has a way of weaving himself into your routine without asking, as though the two of you had already silently agreed to it. he walks you back to your apartment after classes, even when it means going in the opposite direction of his own dorm. he keeps up a constant stream of chatter the whole way—compliments, complaints, insinuations that if you gave him a chance he'd treat you better than anyone else you've ever been with.

once, you told him he was overstepping. he only blinked, thought for no more than half a second, then said, "yeah… maybe. but you're still walking next to me, so maybe you don't mind that much. right?”

you roll your eyes, but your pen stumbles against the page when you feel the warmth of his gaze linger on you far longer than necessary. his compliments may be shameless, but the way he looks at you—as if you've hung the moon—leaves your chest feeling uncomfortably warm.

the real trouble, however, comes when he decides proximity is non-negotiable.

you're in the library, whispering the requirements of your joint assignment to him, outlining what had to be done and when. you were halfway through your explanation when you realised he hadn't taken a single note. his notebook was blank. instead, his chin rested on his palm, eyes fixed on the shift of your lips with an intensity that prickles your skin.

"...are you listening?" you asked finally, shifting uncomfortably.

"yes," he breathes, then pauses. "no." his gaze flicks down to your mouth again. "i mean—maybe i'd listen better if you, um… repeated everything while kissing me…"

your eyes widen. "haechan."

"yn," he parrots back, lips curling into a grin.

and then, out of nowhere, he leans in, lips puckered slightly, clearly aiming for your cheek.

you jerk back. "what are you doing?"

he looks almost sheepish, then bold all over again. "trying to kiss you?"

"wha—you can't just—"

"why not? you're right here… no one's looking…" his eyes dip to your lips, then back to your face, and for the first time, you realise how much he actually wants this. not as a joke, not as a game—he wants you, in his messy, hopeless way.

"no—because we're not…" you trail off, searching for words. "you can't just go around kissing random girls, haechan!"

he tilts his head, genuinely puzzled. "but i'm not trying to kiss a random girl… i want to kiss you."

"but we're not even dating… you—"

"oh." he blinks, thoughtful as if processing a concept that hadn't occured to him even after all these weeks, then brightens. "okay. then i'll be your boyfriend."

your jaw drops. "that's not how this works—"

"but why not? look… i'll prove it." his hand hovers in the air like he's debating whether to take yours, then boldly presses it against yours. his skin is warm, clammy even, but the weight of his palm is steady. he lifts your hands to his cheek, leaning against them with dramatic flourish, fluttering his eyes shut before cracking one open again. "see? we're holding hands now. that's what boyfriends and girlfriends do… right?"

you gape at him, torn between laughter and exasperation. "...you're unbelievable."

"unbelievably in love with you, yeah…" he says smoothly, though his ears are pink, betraying his nerves. "so? can i kiss you now?"

you don't even have time to argue before he's leaning across the table, heart-shaped lips puckering towards your own. mortified, you grab his arm and haul him out of the library, ignoring the amused snickers trailing after you. he stumbles along, completely unbothered, like a puppy thrilled to finally have your attention.

the moment the doors swing shut, haechan spins back to you, excitement sparking in his eyes. "you wanna go to somewhere more private?! ah—i don't think my roommate's home right now. why not we—"

"haechan."

he freezes, blinking rapidly at your tone. "...hm?"

you're glaring, exasperated and flustered all at once. "why do you think i dragged you out of the library?"

"because…" he tilts his head, lips parting in anticipation. "you're more comfortable kissing me out here?"

your jaw drops. "what? no."

his face falls instantly, but only for a second before the smile creeps back in, sly and boyish. "okay, okay. not now. but soon, right? you'll want to kiss me soon." his voice dips low, hopeful, and you realise, with dawning horror, that this boy has absolutely no concept of shame.

it's ridiculous. he's ridiculous. and yet, there's something about his persistence—the way he throws himself headfirst into liking you, no hesitation, no restraint—that lodges itself in your chest. you're not sure when it stopped feeling like annoyance and started feeling like something heavier, something you're secretly learning to crave.

because for all his dramatics and flirtations, you've noticed how haechan listens. he remembers your ailments. he notices when you're too tired to carry your books and takes them without asking. he hovers just close enough to be overwhelming, but never crosses a line that leaves you feeling truly uncomfortable. and for someone so infamously careless, his care for you is startling in its clarity.

and for the first time—somewhere between the cigarettes he swore off for your sake and the way he lights up every time you so much as look at him, you admit—if only silently, if only to yourself—that you find him pretty beyond his beauty marks.

"they're evidence," he snaps, though the grin of his face betrays he's enjoying this far too much to be genuinely mad. "evidence of betrayal. treachery. the downfall of our friendship!"

you bury your face in your hands as he marches back into the living room, envelopes fanned out like a deck of incriminating cards. the seven boys freeze at the sight of him climbing onto the coffee table. 

"rules are simple!" sion bellows, waving tonight's fresh envelope over his head. "none of you are going home tonight until i figure out which one of you is trying to destroy my family by slipping these cheesy confessions under my sister's door at 7:37PM every saturday like clockwork. dumb choice of time, by the way."

"destroy your family?" haechan scoffs, flicking a kernel of popcorn at him. "dramatic much?"

"silence!" sion barks, pointing an accusatory finger toward the group. his eyes dart from face to face, suspicious, before narrowing in on one unlucky victim. "mark lee. come here."

mark's groan echoes through the room, and the boys break into laughter before he even moves. "ME? what did i do?!"

"you're sweating," sion says flatly.

mark blinks, rubbing the back of his neck like he's only just realised he really is a little sweaty, before breaking into a fit of nervous laughter. "what—no, that's just… dude—i'm always warm!"

but there's no escaping. with chenle chanting guilty! guilty! under his breath, mark reluctantly peels himself off the couch and drop into an armchair across from you. he sits stiffly, and with the chair angled towards you, his knees brush close enough to make your pulse trip. it feels uncomfortably like being put on an accidental date—with your brother glowering nearby as the world's worst chaperone.

sion paces between you like a detective about to break a high profile case, clearing his throat with all the gravity of a prosecutor. "name."

"dude. are you serious right now?"

"NAME."

mark laughs, shaking his head. "mark lee."

"intentions."

mark hesitates. "to… eat snacks, hang out, not get punched in the face?"

the room explodes into laughter again, for what feels like the millionth time tonight, but you're watching him too closely to laugh. his fingers drum against his knees, his eyes flickering nervously between sion and you. 

sion brandishes one of the envelopes like damning proof, unfolding it carefully, before reading with exaggerated seriousness.

you have this way of laughing, where your shoulders shake before the sound comes out, like you're trying not to let the world hear. it's stupid how much i look forward to it every week.

he lowers the paper and fixes mark with a look. "sound familiar?"

mark's mouth falls open like the letter might combust in your brother's hands. "that—" he gestures wildly. "i don't write like that! i don't even talk like that!"

the boys crack up. haechan jeers, "aww, does markie have a crush on ynnie?" while jaemin mutters, "that does kinda sound like you though…"

you stay quiet, but your heart stutters for a moment. because the thing is—mark has noticed. once, when you'd tried to stifle your laughter during a bad movie, he leaned in close and whispered, "you always do that," like it was something only he saw.

sion crosses his arms. "and, let's not forget, my sister clearly has a little crush on you."

you choke. "sion!"

mark's ears turn scarlet instantly, and he nearly falls forward in protest. "wha—no! no, no, that's… that's not—" his words tangle over themselves, his gaze darting to you for half a second before he forces it back down to the floor.

your chest burns as you glare at your brother, wishing you could sink into the cushions and disappear off the face of the earth. but sion only smirks. "proving my point, huh. yn likes you, therefore, you have the strongest motive out of anyone here."

mark groans, burying his face in his hands. "what are y—what are you even saying?!"

but beneath his mortified defense, you catch the smallest thing—his knee bouncing slightly, his hands flexing against his jeans, like he's holding back on something he wants to say but knows he shouldn't. and it makes you wonder, even though you tell yourself not to.

"alright... next!" sion's gaze sweeps the room, spinning dramatically before his finger lands squarely on renjun, who's slouched comfortably against the couch cushions. "you. huang renjun. get in the chair."

renjun exhales loudly, rolling his eyes, but he pushes himself up anyway, dragging his feet just to make a point. his posture is the complete opposite of mark's—where mark had fidgeted nervously, renjun drops into the armchair like he owns it—slouching low, arms crossed, and wearing his exasperation like armour.

"let's see…" sion mutters, rifling through the shoebox until he pulls out another envelope. he clears his through and begins to read,

you take care of my happiness without even realising it. thank you for always appreciating the food i bring, listening to me ramble, and showing up when i don't expect it. sometimes i wonder if you even know how much those things matter.

sion slaps the letter down dramatically, eyes narrowing. "and who always happens to show up with takeout? always knocking on her door with snacks every other week, pretending it's all casual? YOU. huang. ren. jun." he stabs a finger towards him. "coincidence? i think not."

renjun raises a brow, unimpressed. "so my crime is… being decent? wow. lock me up."

the boys snicker, and you can't help the snort that escapes you—because sion isn't wrong. renjun has always been softer with you, bringing you takeout on nights when you're too busy to eat, or knock on your door for quiet company when the noise of the boys gets overwhelming. once, when a storm kept him from going home after game night, you let him stay, the two of you quietly sharing leftover pizza until the rain stopped. little things neither of you ever make a big deal of, but linger on all the same.

sion paces, glaring at him. "classic admirer behaviour. you think you're so subtle, but clearly, you're not."

renjun exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. "sion, if i was yn's admirer, trust me, i wouldn't be sliding secret letters under her door. i'd have the guts to just say it to her face." his words are casual, but the way he tilts his head toward you for a beat makes your stomach tighten unexpectedly.

the six, of course, erupt into teasing whistles and hoots, making the moment crumble into laughter. you duck your head, pretending to smooth the fabric of your pajama sleeve so no one notices the warmth creeping up your neck.

sion, however, refuses to drop it. "deflecting with sarcasm. bold claims. very suspicious." he pretends to scribble notes on his palm.

renjun scoffs, leaning back even further. "you're unbelievable."

"and you're not cleared yet," sion shoots back, dramatically hugging the stack of letters to his chest like they're state secrets.