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recent work: driveway saints

a four part series (ft. female k-pop idols)

synopsis: driveway saints is a korean band formed by four high school friends in hongdae. they first started making music in the garage of the frontman's house and had jamming sessions on the driveway of the drummer's driveway, they later gained traction when they did covers in youtube and eventually released their debut album. they are known for their pop punk and pop rock sound with a mix of garage diy and the korean flavor that makes them stand out to the typical bands and beyond everything as a band, comes their lives outside of that. this series is a peek into their personal lives (ft. female k-pop idols)

table of contents:

i. strawberries and cigarettes

ii. bad idea right?

iii. sunflowers

iv. i love you, im sorry

LEGEND

🤎 series

☕ oneshot

sullyoon x male! oc word count: 7793 words part of the series: driveway saints synopsis: as part of the setlist for an upcoming performance, nmixx has to cover a song completely out of their usual sound except the song was sung by sullyoon's ex-boyfriend and soon enough, her memories with him played like a film strip tw: toxic relationship (?), mentions of anxiety, therapy, and cheating, on and off again relationship (ig?) a/n: 4/4 COMPLETE WOOOOO 😍😍😍!! in case you're wondering, said band is inspired by 5 seconds of summer and each guy is based on each member of 5sos but tweaked so it feels original so yeah.

It was the first day of practice. Specifically, it was a different kind of practice, a rehearsal for the festival NMIXX would be performing at.

That meant they would be running through their own songs, with discussions about a cover they would be performing near the end of the setlist. The girls had already experienced covering different songs before, so this wasn’t anything new. If anything, they were excited especially after hearing that the genre was completely different from what they usually did.

It had been a while since they’d last stepped outside their usual sound. The last time was almost a year ago, when they covered She Looks So Perfect by 5 Seconds of Summer during their trip to Sydney. A sound came into the room and there appeared their vocal trainer who walked in with the setlist in hand. She handed each member a sheet of paper which were copies of the setlist they were going to perform on the festival.

Most of it consisted of their own songs but near the end, Sullyoon’s expression shifted the moment her eyes landed on the cover track.

It was a song by Driveway Saints.

Her face immediately went pale. The change didn’t go unnoticed, her members looked at her almost instantly, concern written across their faces.

“Sullyoon, are you okay?” Haewon asked softly.

“We can ask unnie to change the song if you don’t like it,” Lily added.

Sullyoon forced herself to breathe evenly, quickly shaking her head.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “It’s just a song.”

But none of them looked convinced. They knew her well enough to recognize when that wasn’t entirely true, still, no one pushed further. If she said she was fine… then she was fine.

The trainer’s voice cut through the room.

“Before we start,” she said, glancing around, “does anyone have any objections with the setlist?”

The 5 other girls all looked at Sullyoon, fully aware there was an elephant in the room and it needed to be addressed if they were going to get through practice without the tension lingering in the air. They knew Sullyoon wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up, she never would, especially not when it meant making things about her and even then, they could tell she didn’t want to be here, singing a song by her ex-boyfriend’s band.

“No one?”

Lily was the first to move, subtly raising her hand as if to call the trainer’s attention. Sullyoon noticed immediately and before Lily could speak, the trainer’s eyes followed her gesture.

“Yes?” the trainer asked.

“Um, actually… can we—”

Lily didn’t get to finish. Sullyoon quickly reached out and lightly grabbed her arm, shaking her head once as if telling her not to even try, which made Lily stop.

“Sorry? What was that?” the trainer asked, looking between them.

“It’s nothing,” Lily said quickly.

The room went quiet again. The trainer’s gaze shifted to Sullyoon this time, sharper now, more attentive. “Sullyoon? Do you have any objections?”

Every eye in the room landed on her. If there was a choice, she would want a different song to sing but she knew not to let personal history get in the way of her job. So instead,

“No,” Sullyoon said softly. “The setlist is fine.”

The trainer nodded once, then looked back at the 6 girls. “Okay, since nobody has any objections with the setlist, let’s begin.” She flipped through her notes. “We’ll start with the cover first. Since you already have ideas for your own songs, we’ll save those for later.”

“This track originally had a loud, anthemic feel. We’ve stripped down the instrumentation for you, but the structure and vocal approach should stay true to the original.” Her hand reached toward the phone connected to the speakers.

“What I want to hear is rawness and authenticity, I don’t want polished idol delivery for this one try to stay close to how the song was originally performed.”

Her gaze swept across the room, firm but calm. “This isn’t a typical K-pop track, so don’t approach it like one. Treat it differently.”

The trainer clicked on her phone and the song began loading, for a split second, there was only a faint buzz from the speakers. Sullyoon’s fingers tightened slightly at her sides without her realizing. Then, the first sound of the song filled the room, then came the voice.

For a second, Sullyoon didn’t react, at least not outwardly but something in her went still. It was too familiar to her. She couldn’t properly describe what she was hearing, not the way people usually described voices. It wasn’t fixed in one shape. It was a versatile type of voice. One moment slipping into a higher register and the next dipping lower, the type that carries weight in a way that didn’t sound entirely controlled.

And yet, it felt real. Raw in a way that didn’t try to be perfect, the kind of voice that didn’t hide its cracks, even when it knew millions of people were listening, a far cry from what she was used to hearing in polished studio recordings and staged broadcasts.

Without a doubt, that was Baek Gyumin, lead singer and rhythm guitarist of Driveway Saints but even without the name of the band attached to it, she would have known because to her, he wasn’t just that, he was also her ex-boyfriend. They dated for a year and it had been 2 years since they broke up.

Her fingers curled slightly against the fabric of her sleeve before she noticed she was doing it. She forced them to loosen. She kept her eyes on the floor for a second too long, as if looking anywhere else might make the sound less real, it didn’t. The voice continued to move through the room, filling every gap between them and somewhere in her chest, something tightened in a way she hadn’t prepared for and then before she knew it, she was back to the time when Gyumin was still around, when they were together.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Sullyoon had just finished her last schedule of the day. Her makeup had been wiped off in the staff room, leaving her face bare and tired in the soft glow of the hallway lights as she made her way out toward the dorm pickup area. Normally, she would wait outside for Gyumin, he’d always drive her back after her schedules when he could.

But after they had an argument last night, she didn’t think he would come. Ahead of her, she spotted a few of her members already walking down the path, their silhouettes familiar against the dim streetlights. She was about to call out to them so she can join them for the ride back when a soft beep cut through the night air.

She stopped and turned slowly.

There was a white Benz parked by the curb, a car she knew all too well. Before she could fully process it, the driver’s door opened and Gyumin stepped out, holding flowers in his hand.

“Yoona-ah…” he said gently, almost carefully, like he was approaching something fragile. “I know you’re still mad, but can we talk?”

Sullyoon wasn’t her real name, it was a stage name given to her when she debuted, her real name was Seol Yoona. Nobody called her that, not even her members or anybody else. The only person besides her family that called her was Gyumin.

For a second, her expression flickered, so small it was almost invisible, before she straightened herself again. “I already said everything I had to say last night,” she replied.

“Yoona-ah… I know I did something that upset you, and I want to make it up to you.”

“And I told you to give me space,” Sullyoon cut in, her voice sharper now, “but you came here anyway and thought bringing something would just fix everything like that.”

“Yoona—”

“Do I have to repeat myself?” she interrupted, frustration finally breaking through her control. “You keep asking me too many questions, and I can’t breathe when I constantly have to reassure you.”

She exhaled, shaking her head slightly. “I did the same thing when I saw you clubbing with Yongsun in Hongdae, and you told me I was being paranoid just because I asked if there were going to be girls there. Does that not sound hypocritical to you?”

Gyumin went quiet. His hands lowered slightly, the flowers dipping toward his side as if they suddenly felt heavier. “I…”

Sullyoon’s gaze stayed steady, even though her chest felt tight. “I said it before and I'll say it again, I need some space. Leave me alone.”

Gyumin’s expression shifted and his face faltered, the words had taken longer to process than he expected.

“…Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll go… I just didn’t think I was someone you needed space from.” He gave a small, strained breath, trying to keep his voice steady.

Then he turned, the flowers stayed in his hand as he walked back to the car.

Sullyoon stood there not moving an inch, watching the white Benz disappear deeper into the night until the taillights eventually vanished from view completely, only then did she finally turn away.

She let out a quiet sigh and turned around, starting down the path leading back to the dorms. The entire walk, all she could think about was Gyumin.

He was different from the version people saw on screen.

Publicly, Baek Gyumin was considered one of the most approachable celebrities in the industry. It was part of what made Driveway Saints so beloved despite never fully breaking into the mainstream fully as a band. Their concerts were often described as feeling more like clubs than actual shows.

Gyumin thrived in crowds. He was the type to jump offstage and disappear into the audience mid-song, weaving through people while security practically lost their minds trying to keep up with him. He let fans hold his hands, grab onto his arms, scream lyrics directly into his face as long as nobody crossed the line too far, that was the kind of concert energy he brought in as the band's frontman.

He talked to fans like they were people he’d known forever. There were clips of him staying outside venues long after concerts ended just to talk to them. One time, he was spotted sitting on a train with fans on a regular Tuesday, talking to them like he's known them for a long time.

That was just who Baek Gyumin was. He was the kind of charming that pulled people toward him effortlessly. The kind of person who could make someone attached to him without even trying, which was exactly why being with him felt so confusing sometimes because if he could give that much warmth to strangers, then shouldn’t she have felt even more loved than everyone else? Yet, even with all his sincerity and all his effort, something about it still felt incomplete.

He meant well, she knew that better than anyone. Despite the overthinking, despite the attachment issues, despite the constant need for reassurance, Gyumin was the type to go above and beyond just to make sure the people he loved never doubted it but sometimes, it felt like he loved from a place of fear instead of trust, like he was always trying to hold onto something before it could disappear.

He aimed low or maybe that wasn’t the right way to put it. Maybe he just didn’t know how to love without being afraid of losing it and she knew his way of thinking was something she couldn’t completely blame him for either.

His last relationship had ruined him. She didn't know the full story of it but she knew how public it is. It was the type of relationship that was very on and off and it was a surprise that that kind of relationship lasted for 2 years. It was so public that you could just type in a single Google search and you would immediately find pages among pages of articles about the relationship. There were many stuff in there too, like the very public breakup where his ex went on Twitter to subtly accuse him of cheating 3 months after he came out telling everyone they have broken up even though there was a blurry photo of her kissing a man that wasn't Gyumin in the crowd at the Waterbomb Festival, second hand videos of Gyumin and his ex arguing outside clubs at 2 in the morning, and people coming out talking about how Gyumin got thinner and looked exhausted like he was physically there but mentally elsewhere. It was a field day for Reddit and Stan Twitter.

If the public version had already looked that bad, Sullyoon couldn’t imagine how much worse the parts he never told her must have been.

She spotted her members again ahead on the path to the dorms and hesitated for a moment before quickening her steps to catch up. When she reached them, they turned almost immediately.

“Sullyoon, you’re joining us?” Haewon asked.

She nodded.

“Gyumin’s not gonna drive you?” Lily added, tilting her head slightly.

Sullyoon shook her head.

“Why? What happened?” Bae asked, concern already creeping into her voice.

For a fraction of a second, Sullyoon paused, then she forced her expression to stay neutral. “He said he was still in the studio with his bandmates, so he wouldn’t be able to drive today,” she said. It was a lie obviously and it was soft enough not to invite more questions.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Sullyoon finally reached the dorms feeling completely drained. The day’s schedules alone had already exhausted her, and Gyumin showing up outside the company only made everything heavier.

Whatever.

People argued all the time, relationships weren’t perfect. This happened to everyone anyway. That was what she kept telling herself.

Everything was fine. At least, that was what she tried to believe but her actions betrayed her before she could even think properly about them.

The moment she entered the room, the door slammed shut harder than she intended, the sound echoing through the dorm loud enough to make Jiwoo, her roommate, look up immediately in surprise. “Woah—Sullyoon, are you okay?” Jiwoo asked.

Sullyoon blinked, only now realizing what she had done.

“Oh.” She quickly forced a small smile onto her face. “Yeah, I’m okay…”

Jiwoo raised an eyebrow almost instantly. “That doesn’t sound very okay,” she said. “You’ve been acting weird ever since you joined us on the walk back.”

The room fell quiet for a second and Sullyoon suddenly hated how easily her members could read her. She knew she couldn’t keep lying to her members’ faces, especially not in front of her roommate. It was starting to feel heavier than she expected, like it was pressing against her chest the longer she held it in.

So she finally said it. “It’s Gyumin.”

Jiwoo stopped immediately, her attention fully shifting to her.

Sullyoon hesitated for a second, then continued. “We had an argument last night. It’s just… he’s the attached type, with pretty bad anxiety. So basically, he starts having these thoughts, right? It got triggered because yesterday we were busy the entire day. I was mostly focused on schedules and you guys, so I didn’t really have time to reply properly. My messages were shorter, slower… and I forgot to update him.”

She swallowed, looking down briefly. “Maybe he noticed I was still active on Instagram for a bit, so he kept texting but I don’t like how I always end up having to reassure him, because he assumes the worst so quickly. He overthinks everything. It feels like I can’t even have my own time without it turning into something in his head.”

Her voice tightened slightly, but she pushed through it. “So that’s what we were arguing about.”

She paused.

“And while we were arguing… I saw he was clubbing with one of his bandmates. I asked him about it, and he said I was being paranoid about girls being there.”

Sullyoon exhaled, the memory still sharp. “After that, we didn’t talk for the rest of the day.”

Her fingers fidgeted slightly before she forced herself to continue. “Then just now… he came to the building with flowers, like that would fix everything. He tried to talk to me carefully, but I was still upset from last night, so I pushed him away.”

Her voice softened a little at the end. “I was walking with you guys and I just kept thinking about it… and I realized maybe I dismissed him too quickly. Maybe I shut him out emotionally. Maybe I made everything about how overwhelmed I felt without really thinking about how scared he was too.”

The room went quiet after she finished. Jiwoo listened carefully, her expression softening into something more protective than judgmental.

“Unnie,” she said gently, “you’re not responsible for him.”

Then her tone sharpened slightly, more firm now. “He was wrong for that and calling you paranoid after he’s the one constantly asking questions when you don’t reply? That’s honestly the most hypocritical thing I’ve heard.”

“I know,” Sullyoon said quietly, her voice faltering a little. “It’s just that… he wanted to apologize, and maybe I was too harsh on him—”

Jiwoo immediately shook her head. “If he wanted to make up for it, he should do more than show up with flowers,” she said firmly. Then her tone softened again, but stayed steady. “And you weren’t being harsh for setting a boundary and calling out what bothered you.”

She paused, watching Sullyoon carefully. “That anxiety he has, it’s not your responsibility. That’s something he has to work on himself.”

Sullyoon opened her mouth slightly, then closed it again. “I know that,” she said after a moment, quieter this time. “I really do. It’s just…”

She hesitated, searching for the right words. “It didn’t feel good seeing him like that. He looked… hurt.”

Jiwoo’s expression softened again, but she didn’t back down.;“Of course he was hurt,” she said. “But that doesn’t automatically make you the villain in the situation.”

Sullyoon looked down at her hands. The words didn’t fully settle, they should have but instead, they lingered somewhere in between relief and discomfort.

Jiwoo leaned back slightly, her tone gentler now. “Unnie… you can care about him and still need space from him. Both can be true.”

That made Sullyoon go quiet because that part, she understood. She knew that and yet…

Sullyoon gave Jiwoo a weak smile before quietly walking over to her bed, the one tucked in the other side of the room she and Jiwoo shared.

The mattress dipped softly beneath her weight as she sat down and reached for her phone again. Almost instinctively, she opened their messages.

But instead of texting him, she ended up doomscrolling mindlessly, thumb dragging across the screen without really processing anything she was looking at and that was when she realized it, he actually listened this time.

There were no missed calls and spam of worried texts asking where she was or whether she was still upset.

Gyumin had finally given her space which was exactly what she asked for, so why did the silence feel so awful?

Sullyoon stared at the screen a little longer before locking it again, letting it fall onto the bed beside her. She shouldn’t have felt guilty for calling him out, she knew that. What she said wasn’t wrong but for some reason, all she could think about was the way his face had fallen when she told him to leave.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Sullyoon.”

Her senses snapped back.

She hadn’t even realized she was slipping into memory again, back into something from almost two years ago, until she saw the trainer standing across the room, watching her. “Presence of mind,” the trainer reminded.

Sullyoon straightened slightly and nodded, heat rising faintly in her face. “Sorry…” she mumbled to her breath.

The music hadn’t even started yet. She quickly looked back down at the setlist in her hands, focusing on the highlighted parts she was supposed to sing. Thankfully, she hadn’t been assigned Gyumin’s parts, that alone would’ve made this harder and more complicated.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Rehearsal had finally ended. Normally, she would’ve gone straight back to the dorms with her members, walking together like usual but instead, she found herself at a small restaurant she’d been meaning to try. It wasn’t far from the company building and it had recently opened, it was in a lowkey area and it had talks about having a nice view at noon.

She didn’t mind being alone. If anything, she preferred it right now.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

She was finally inside the restaurant, while waiting for her order to arrive, she pulled out her phone out of habit. She didn’t usually check the group’s official Instagram account herself, that was handled by the company. She wasn’t even sure why she opened it now but as she scrolled for a moment, a notification popped up.

Gyumin liked the group’s latest post.

It wasn’t even supposed to be unusual, not really. They didn’t talk after the breakup, only the rare, unavoidable overlaps in schedules and industry events ever forced any kind of interaction between them.

Sullyoon stared at the notification a little longer than she meant to. Before she knew it, she wasn’t sure why she did it but she logged out of the group’s official account and switched to her private one instead. The one followed only by her members, a few close friends and, once upon a time, Gyumin’s private account before they broke up.

She searched for him and his name appeared immediately. She tapped on the blue check and his public account loaded easily.

He didn’t post much there compared to his private one. She scrolled, his most recent post was a baby photo with his older brother and sister for National Siblings Day with the caption of a simple message for the both of them, below that was a photo dump from what looked like a trip to Switzerland.

One of the photos caught her eye longer than the rest, there was him sitting with a glass of wine, watching the sun set over Lake Geneva but before she could scroll further, a drink was placed on her table.

Sullyoon blinked and looked up.

A waitress gave a polite smile as she set it down gently, telling her the rest of her order would be out shortly.

Sullyoon gave a small nod in return.

But when she looked back at her phone, something about the moment felt different than before.

She finally locked the screen and set it aside, then she reached for her glass.

The restaurant’s window seat gave her exactly the view people talked about online. She hadn’t really thought much of it when she picked the table but now, she understood why it was recommended.

Outside, the sun was already lowering over the lake, painting the water in soft gold and fading orange light. It was quiet in a way that didn’t feel empty.

Sullyoon took a slow sip from her drink and kept watching. As the colors shifted across the surface of the water, something in her settled not in a comforting way, but in a strangely detached one.

A quiet numbness, that same surreal distance she couldn’t quite name, like she was watching her own life happen from too far away.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Sullyoon left the restaurant after paying the bill. She started walking back toward the dorms, the weight of the day settling into her steps. The streets were quieter now, the city shifting into its nighttime rhythm, but for some reason her mind refused to be quiet with it.

She kept thinking about Gyumin even though she wanted him out of her head.

Maybe it was the Driveway Saints song they had to cover. Maybe it was the way she had spent an embarrassingly long time earlier scrolling through his Instagram or maybe it was just the fact that his presence had been stirred up too many times in one day to ignore.

Either way, it made her realize something uncomfortable. What the hell was she thinking?

She should’ve left earlier.

She stayed in that relationship even when she was already emotionally exhausted by him by the constant reassurance, the anxiety, the overthinking that never really stopped. It was going on for way too long.

An attached man with anxiety wasn’t something she should’ve stayed around for when it was clear he wasn’t in a place where he could fix it on his own and not accepting or even seeing it sooner was probably her biggest mistake.

She kept hoping things would stabilize on their own, that love alone would smooth out the instability. Maybe because of how much of his past he had shared with her, just enough to make her understand, but not enough to fix anything but then there was another thought that refused to leave her alone, because as flawed as it was, there was one thing he did right and that was how he handled the breakup.

He wrote a song about her which was on one of Driveway Saints’ albums. It was subtle, so subtle that only the two of them would really know what it meant. There were still speculations in the Driveway Saints fandom, of course, but nothing was confirmed and the song didn't paint her in a bad light in any way.

It was a sorry song. Something that mixed apology and yearning.

That second word felt like something he had always been better at than she was and maybe that was why it stayed with her longer than she expected. She never understood why he couldn’t just say those things when they last spoke but at least he didn’t turn it into something cruel.

If anything, the song had ended up quietly sitting in her Spotify Wrapped that year, she played it far more than she would ever admit. Especially considering Driveway Saints' music had never really been her usual kind of music.

Gyumin had loved her the best way he knew how at the time, it might not be the best but it was sincere and somewhere in that same realization, she had to admit something else too.

She had loved him imperfectly as well.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Sullyoon could never fully understand Baek Gyumin.

He was the type to wait outside her schedules at three in the morning holding a tub of Almond BonBon, her favorite Baskin Robbins flavor, because it was the only branch still open that late but he was also the type to ask why she let a male designer touch her waist during fitting measurements even though the man was literally just doing his job for the group’s stage outfits. He would randomly sing notes in the shower like he had music constantly living in his head then, hours later, spiral after overthinking the tone of one sentence she said. He would sit beside her, guitar resting against his lap while he softly sang lyrics he had written for her. Then somehow end up hurting himself over imagined scenarios that never even happened.

Both versions of him were real, that was the problem and as sick as it sounded, she had loved him first.

They met through a variety show collaboration, a rare overlap considering bands almost never crossed into idol centered content. Back then, she remembered thinking he was loud in a strangely endearing way. He talked too much, joked too much, smiled too easily but underneath all of that, there was still something guarded about him. She couldn’t even remember exactly when things shifted between them but somewhere between late night conversations, shared waiting rooms, and him lingering around her longer than necessary, he made the first move however she was the one who opened the emotional door first.

She remembered one specific night, though most of the details had blurred with time, where she looked at him and suddenly thought, I think I like you too much already.

After that, everything became gradual. The calls became longer, the attachment became deeper and somewhere along the way, his relief started turning into dependence.

There were times his concerns were genuinely valid, that was the part she hated admitting to herself.

There were moments where the secrecy of their relationship, her unpredictable schedules, and the industry around them gave him reasons to feel insecure.

But by the end, she had become so emotionally exhausted trying to balance her own life while constantly stabilizing his emotions that even reasonable concerns started feeling heavy and because of that, she sometimes shut him down too quickly in a cold fashion. There were moments she dismissed his anxiety as simply being “too much.”

And if she was being honest with herself now, she hadn’t always been kind about it.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Gyumin was playing his guitar again. It was the nth time that morning. At first, Sullyoon thought it was work-related, maybe a melody he was trying to fix, or lyrics he couldn’t settle on, but the longer she watched him, the less it looked like creative focus.

It looked restless.

The bed behind him was already half destroyed, scattered with crumpled sheets of paper torn from a notebook. Gyumin was a perfectionist, but he only made a mess like this when something inside him wasn’t settling.

He finally looked up and froze slightly when he noticed her watching.

“Yoona-ah…” he started quickly, already sounding like he was trying to fix something before it was even named. “I—I’m so sorry for messing up the bed. Please don’t get mad, and can you also tell Jiwoo I’m sorry if she sees this mess later?” He hesitated, then exhaled sharply, words spilling faster now.

“It’s just, I have a therapy session later and I don’t know how to explain why I didn’t document my week properly even though I told her I will journal this time, so I was trying to write it out in a song instead. I’ll clean up the room later, I promise.”

Sullyoon blinked at him. “Therapy?” she repeated. “Since when did you start going?”

Gyumin paused. Then gave a small, almost awkward laugh. “Since… a few months ago? I thought I told you.”

He shook his head slightly, running a hand through his hair. “Right. I didn’t.”

He hesitated again, softer this time. “I’ve been going for a few months. Hyunsoo told me to start therapy when I was staying with him after everything with… you know who.”

Then, he added, “Anyway, I’ll clean this up.”

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Sullyoon didn’t move. She just looked at him. Not unkindly but not fully there either.

“You say you’ll clean it up,” she said, tone lighter than her expression suggested, still looking at the mess he made, it had been maybe an hour now but she figured he still wasn't finished so she decided to let him.

“Just… don’t turn everything into something you have to fix with a song.”

Gyumin went quiet for a second. Then nodded quickly, a little too quickly. “Yeah, okay, Sorry.” but he didn’t stop fidgeting.

Sullyoon, instead of sitting beside him like she used to at the beginning, stayed standing near the door longer than she needed to like she wasn’t sure anymore if stepping closer meant helping him or absorbing him.  Gyumin was still sitting on the edge of the bed, fingers loosely gripping his guitar neck like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands anymore.

Sullyoon stayed near the doorway, there was a small silence between them and then, Gyumin cleared his throat. “I’m not messing things up again, right?”

Sullyoon blinked. “What?”

“I just mean…” he hesitated, eyes flicking down to the papers again. “You’ve been kinda hostile lately.”

That made her pause.

“I’m literally standing here.”

“I know,” he said quickly, almost too quickly. “It’s just… you feel a bit far.”

Sullyoon let out a small breath, trying to keep her tone steady. “I just said not to turn everything into a song, Gyumin. How am I being hostile?”

“I know,” he nodded, but it didn’t settle. It never did when he was already spiraling. “But even when you’re here, it’s like—”

He stopped himself and said, “Did I do something?”

Sullyoon’s expression shifted slightly. “No.”

That should’ve ended it, but it didn’t. Gyumin’s grip on the guitar tightened. “That’s what you always say when something is wrong.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly now, not angry yet but tired. “There’s nothing wrong. Why do you always assume there is?”

That was the first crack, Gyumin looked up at her properly now. “I’m not assuming,” he said quietly. “I’m trying to understand.”

“You’re trying to find a problem where there isn’t one,” she replied, voice sharper than she intended.

That silence after her words was immediate. He flinched, not dramatically, but internally and that was the shift.

Gyumin stood up suddenly like he just ran on caffeine, “So I’m the problem now?”

Sullyoon exhaled through her nose, already feeling it slipping. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you’re looking at me like I’m making everything difficult again.”

It wasn’t entirely wrong but hearing it said out loud made her feel cornered and when she felt cornered, she withdrew.

Her voice went quieter. “I can’t do this right now.”

That sentence changed the entire atmosphere. Gyumin’s expression softened immediately, in a panicking way, “You’re leaving the conversation again.”

“I’m not leaving,” she said, but already stepping back slightly. “I just need space.”

Space in Baek Gyumin terms meant distance and the possibility of her leaving him and he didn't like that.

His voice lowered. “Every time I try to talk about what I feel, you shut it down.”

Sullyoon froze for half a second and then her tone flattened. “I’m not shutting it down. I’m just tired of this loop.”

Something in Gyumin’s expression immediately changed.

“What loop?” he asked, voice rising before he realized it. “You make it sound like I’m some fucking problem you’re forced to deal with.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But that’s what you mean, isn’t it?” he shot back. “Every time things get hard, you pull away and suddenly I’m too overwhelming again.”

Sullyoon felt herself shutting down even more at the sudden shift in his tone. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying, Yoona?” His voice cracked slightly now, frustration bleeding into desperation. “Because every time you ask for space, it feels like you’re halfway out the door already.”

It was always like this with Gyumin.

Whenever he got into that headspace, it felt like walking on eggshells around him, she had to be careful with every word, every pause, every tone to make sure she doesn't accidentally wake him on the wrong side of the bed.

She would say something simple. He would overthink one part of it. She would start to withdraw. He would follow up with more questions, trying to understand, trying to fix it. She would get overwhelmed and shut down harder. Then they would stop talking for a while, and after some time, they would reconcile and it would go back to normal.

That was always how it went.

Looking back now, she could see it clearly.

It wasn’t sustainable in any real way, nothing ever actually changed. The same pattern kept repeating, no matter how many times they promised themselves it wouldn’t. They kept trying and still ended up in the same place. There wasn’t really a single person to blame but it was exhausting anyway.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

As Sullyoon walked out of the building, she already saw his car parked outside.

She opened the passenger door and sat beside him before quietly closing it. There was a familiar scent of coffee, cigarettes, and the faint lingering smell of his cologne filled the car. Gyumin glanced at her briefly before pulling away from the curb.

“You look tired,” he said softly. “Should we get McDonald’s?”

Sullyoon leaned her head against the window. “I don’t really mind…”

Gyumin continued driving. At first, nothing felt unusual, but after a while, she noticed the way his hand tightened slightly around the steering wheel. His jaw tensed almost imperceptibly and then he got quiet.

With Gyumin, silence only ever meant two things: he was exhausted from being in the studio all day or he was spiraling again before she could figure out which one it was, he suddenly spoke. “…Are you getting tired of me?”

Sullyoon closed her eyes briefly.

Of course.

She had just finished a packed idol schedule, was running on barely any sleep, and had spent the entire day forcing energy out of herself for cameras, interviews, fans, and staff and now this.

There was that question again.

And she knew where this was going

She exhaled quietly through her nose. “Gyumin,” she said tiredly, “I’m tired.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she saw it register wrong.

“I’m trying to talk to you,” he said, voice low but increasingly desperate, “and it feels like you already left the relationship.”

Something in her snapped. “Because I am!”

The words came out sharper than she intended and the car stopped at a red light. Gyumin immediately turned to look at her, stunned into silence like he was waiting for her to take it back but she didn’t. And once she started, everything she had been bottling up finally spilled out.

“I can’t keep being responsible for calming you down every single time you get afraid,” she said, frustration bleeding into her voice. “I don’t know what goes on in your head or what I said wrong this time, but I’m constantly walking on eggshells around you because I never know what’s suddenly gonna trigger another spiral.”

Gyumin looked away first.

She kept going anyway. “You question me out of nowhere, Gyumin. You overthink every little thing I do and then interrogate me until I’m emotionally exhausted trying to reassure you.” Her voice cracked slightly from sheer fatigue. “Why does everything immediately become a sign that something’s wrong? Why does every tiny shift feel like proof that I’m about to leave you?”

The light turned green. Gyumin stared ahead again and slowly pressed on the gas. For a few seconds, only the sound of the road filled the car.

Then he spoke. “I’m trying so hard not to lose you.”

That should’ve hurt less than it did but instead, it only made Sullyoon feel more tired because that was the problem. He had been trying not to lose her from the very beginning even during the moments she wasn’t going anywhere.

“But that’s exactly it,” she said softly. “You act like you’re losing me all the time even when you’re not.” Sullyoon kept talking, voice tight with exhaustion.

“You question me out of nowhere, Gyumin. You overthink everything until I feel like I’m constantly proving I’m not doing something wrong.”

Then, before she could stop herself, she said, “It’s not like I’m her.”

There was an immediate silence in the car. Gyumin’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“…Don’t,” he said quietly.

Sullyoon blinked, realizing what she said too late.

“I didn’t mean—”

But he shook his head slightly because now the argument wasn’t just about them anymore. It was about him again and that was exactly what he feared.

“You think I don’t know that?”

She went quiet.

“There’s a reason I’m in therapy, Yoona,” he said, voice strained now. “I’m trying to change. I genuinely am. I try so hard to stop thinking like this, to stop ruining things every time I get scared, but whenever something feels even slightly off, my brain just…” He exhaled shakily. “It goes everywhere.”

His grip tightened around the steering wheel. “I keep thinking about all the different ways people can leave because that’s what I got used to.”

His voice lowered slightly after that. “The relationship I was in before you was always on and off. One day things were fine, then suddenly they weren’t. Then they’d come back again and repeat.” He laughed weakly, but there was nothing amused about it. “It’s been a year since that ended and I know you’re not her, I know that, but sometimes my head still reacts like something bad’s about to happen.”

Sullyoon spoke again. “But what?” she asked quietly. “Because you got cheated on?”

Gyumin flinched slightly at the bluntness of it.

Sullyoon looked away toward the window, “I know what happened to you was horrible, Gyumin. I know it messed you up.” She swallowed. “But I’m not the person who hurt you. You keep reacting to me like I’m going to betray you too.” Her voice cracked slightly from exhaustion. “And I can’t keep carrying the consequences of something I didn’t even do.”

There was that suffocating tension in the car.

Gyumin continued driving, but Sullyoon could see the color slowly draining from his face from everything she had just said. His grip around the steering wheel tightened again while she sat there, chest still rising unevenly after finally spilling months of exhaustion into the open.

For once, he had no response. He was quiet this time. The car sped up slightly, not recklessly, but enough for Sullyoon to notice the way his foot pressed harder against the gas like he needed movement to keep himself together. Streetlights blurred past the windows, then, they reached the road leading toward the dorms and Sullyoon finally said the thing she probably should have said a long time ago. “I don’t think love is fixing us anymore.”

“It can’t keep going like this, Gyumin. We keep ending up in the same place no matter how hard we try.” She swallowed thickly before forcing the next words out. “I’m leaving you.”

The moment the sentence landed, Gyumin abruptly hit the brakes. The car came to a stop near the side of the road before he immediately shifted it into park, then he turned toward her. He looked stunned, completely shattered by the fact that she had finally said it out loud and also by what she just said, like some part of him genuinely believed they would survive this too, the same way they survived everything else before. He thought she wasn’t serious, that she needed time to cool down before they make up again but it didn’t seem that that was the case.

Sullyoon forced herself to hold his gaze anyway. “I’m serious,” she said quietly. “When I get back to the dorms. I’m blocking you everywhere.”

For a second, Gyumin didn’t react. He just stared at her like he was still trying to process the words then his eyes dropped briefly toward the steering wheel before he laughed once under his breath, not in a funny way, more of, a nervous way. Gyumin took a deep breath. “I didn’t realize I was exhausting you this much…”

He toned down his voice a bit, “I really did try, Yoona. I know I made things hard sometimes. I know I kept ruining things every time I got scared.” He swallowed harshly, eyes still fixed on the road ahead. “I just… didn’t know how to stop being afraid of losing you.”

Sullyoon stayed quiet. There was nothing she could say to that anymore.

After a few seconds, Gyumin slowly pulled the hand brake down and shifted the car back into drive. The engine hummed softly as the car started moving again. “I’ll still drive you back to the dorms though,” he said after a while, voice uneven but controlled. “It’s too dangerous for you to walk alone this late. Think of it as… courtesy, I guess.”

The rest of the drive was quiet and the city lights passed by in blurred streaks outside the windows while neither of them spoke again. Strangely enough, Sullyoon found herself surprised by how calmly he handled it. A part of her expected him to spiral again that he was going to ask more questions and probably try to stop her but he didn’t and somehow, that hurt more than if he had.

He continued driving for a while before speaking again, eyes still fixed on the road ahead. “I do love you, Yoona. I hope you know that.”

Sullyoon turned to look at him quietly. The passing streetlights reflected briefly against his face before disappearing again into darkness.

“I might not have had the best way of showing it,” he continued softly. “And I know I made things difficult sometimes but you made me feel something I hadn’t felt in a long time.” He let out a small breath, almost shaky. “So thank you for that.”

The car remained steady on the road.

“I’m sorry for everything,” he said. “For the way I hurt you. For making you feel exhausted instead of safe and if you’re really serious about us ending things…” He swallowed. “Which I know you are.”

For a second, he looked like he wanted to say more but instead, he just nodded faintly to himself. “I’ll respect it. I trust your decision.” His grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly before loosening again. “But even if we separate…” His voice softened. “I hope you know I loved you.”

“I love you and I’m sorry.”

Not long after, the car slowly came to a stop in front of the dorm building. Sullyoon looked out the window, recognizing the familiar entrance immediately. For a moment, neither of them moved, then she quietly unbuckled her seatbelt. Before stepping out, she looked at him one last time.

Gyumin didn’t look back immediately. He just kept both hands on the steering wheel like he was trying to hold himself together long enough for her to leave first and somehow, that made it even harder.

Without another word, Sullyoon stepped out of the car and walked toward the building while the headlights behind her stayed on for a few seconds longer before finally driving away.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Later that night, while lying awake in the dark with her phone turned face down beside her after blocking him in every way she knew he would contact her, she was thinking about him even when she said she was leaving him. She did mean that but even then, there were sides to Gyumin that weren’t purely negative. She sees the good in him despite his biggest flaw but even then, love itself wasn’t sustainable enough to keep their relationship. He was far too unstable, he was exhausting to be with when he became unpredictable and one mistake could put him on the wrong side of the bed but even then, he realized something that made the ache hurt even worse.

Loving him was never the hard part.

wonyoung x male! oc

word count: 7509 words part of the series: driveway saints synopsis: wonyoung has been with her boyfriend that she connected with on discord but after months, of mostly talking online, they decided to have their first in-person date tw: idk? i don't own anybody in this story except the oc and everything written for him

Jang Wonyoung read the message during a short break from a commercial shoot she was filming. She stared at her phone a little longer than necessary, trying to process what exactly Roh Jinwoo had just sent her. 

That was it.

Was he asking her out? Technically they had already been dating for months, but with Jinwoo, she could never fully tell. His way of communicating existed somewhere between sincerity and complete internet brainrot.

He was the type to send cat memes at 3 in the morning, dead internet jokes she had to search the meaning of, and old Vines from years ago that somehow still made him laugh. Most of the time, she ended up asking him directly what they meant. Thankfully, he always explained them patiently, never making her feel stupid for not understanding half the references he threw at her but there was usually a flicker of surprise though, like he still found it unbelievable that someone in the same age bracket as him had somehow missed entire corners of internet culture.

Then again, Roh Jinwoo practically lived online.

If Starship Entertainment hadn’t introduced him as one of the co-writers for one of IVE’s b-sides for their new album, Wonyoung genuinely would’ve assumed he was some Twitch streamer who happened to know how to play guitar. Outside of work, he was either glued to an electric guitar or carrying around a Nintendo Switch that seemed permanently attached to him.

At first, she never expected to speak to him beyond work, there was no reason to. He was quiet during sessions, awkward in a way that almost felt accidental, and usually kept to himself unless someone asked him something directly. But over time, she noticed they shared the same habit: arriving at the studio first and leaving last.

That was the first thing she noticed about him.

One night, during a session that dragged well past midnight, they ended up having their first real conversation. She couldn’t even remember how it started anymore, probably music, maybe exhaustion or maybe a talk through soju, but it somehow ended with them exchanging numbers.

She hesitated about this. She knew better than to get too close to people outside her immediate circle, especially men in the industry. Still, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she found herself texting him first.

He took forever to respond and when he finally did, he apologized immediately, explaining that he barely checked Messages unless it was work-related and that he was usually more active on Discord instead.

She had no idea what Discord was, actually asking him what it was had been mildly humiliating but during their next studio session, when they had spare time between recordings, Jinwoo sat beside her and walked her through the app himself, looking more at her than directly at the phone screen. After that, their conversations slowly migrated there.

Messages turned into late-night calls, calls turned into hours sitting silently together online while they played games. At one point, she downloaded Minecraft solely because he asked if she wanted to see something he built. That was also when she realized Jinwoo was completely different online. He was more talkative, open, and funnier, somehow.

In real life, he could barely maintain eye contact with girls for more than five seconds before staring at the floor or fiddling with the rings on his fingers. But online, words came easier to him. He rambled and he laughed more. Sometimes he’d go on long tangents about music production and the lore of the next new game he was addicted to at two in the morning without realizing how much he was talking.

Somewhere along the way, their conversations stopped feeling casual and eventually, in the most Roh Jinwoo way possible, he confessed to her through Minecraft. He spent nearly three hours building an enormous pixelated heart with a sign in front of it that read:

i love u :3

She remembered laughing so hard she nearly fell into the water surrounding it.

After that, their relationship settled naturally into late night movie streams, endless Minecraft sessions whenever schedules allowed, and quiet calls that lasted until one of them accidentally fell asleep but despite dating for months, they had never gone on a real date before. The one that was in person

As her thoughts were about to drift back to Jinwoo again, reality pulled her out of it. A staff member called her name, signaling that she was needed back on set for the next part of the shoot.

She locked her phone and left the message unanswered on the screen.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

When the shoot finally ended, Wonyoung stood by the glass window of the building, watching rain begin to fall over the city. Neon lights blurred through the droplets, turning the streets into soft streaks of color.

Tiredness settled in her chest in that familiar way it always did. It came with every schedule, every flight, every day that blurred into the next. She exhaled softly and finally opened her phone again.

The first thing she saw was Jinwoo’s message still sitting there.

She read it again and then she typed.

She didn’t know why something so simple made her hesitate.

She had been to Hongdae many times before, mostly for work. Music shows, schedules, quick stops in vans where she could only see fragments of the place through tinted windows. She knew it as a district full of life with its bright lights, crowded streets, endless movement. Nighttime Hongdae was especially famous. She remembered hearing about it constantly: the nightlife, the buskers performing on street corners, the indie music culture that seemed to live and breathe in every alleyway. It was a place where sound never really stopped.

She had never truly experienced it, though. Not properly, not the way people talked about it and for some reason, the idea of seeing it like that with Jinwoo felt different.

She imagined walking beside him under the city lights, him probably a step behind her, hands in his pockets, looking straight at her. She could almost picture him getting awkward if she pointed it out, trying to act normal and failing within seconds. A small, almost reluctant smile formed at the thought.

Wonyoung glanced down at her schedule again.

A day off at the end of the week and, coincidentally, a performance the day before at Hongik University, right in Hongdae. That was perfect.

Her thumb hovered over the keyboard.

She read his message one more time.

Then she finally typed.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Friday arrived, and all the members of IVE were currently on stage as the main act for a university festival at Hongik University. Wonyoung stayed focused, as always. Her attention remained on the crowd, the lights, the rhythm of the stage everything where it needed to be. Everything went as expected.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. 

10 minutes before going on, she had received Jinwoo’s message confirming they would meet after the show. She had read it once, then locked her phone without replying again. That was something for later. Right now, there was only the performance.

She could think about him after, not right now.

The music hit its cue.

She stepped into her position and performed, until she saw him.

A flash of a bright colored head in the crowd caught her eye.

A man stood slightly off-center among the audience, holding his phone at chest level as he recorded. His hair was a mix of dark strands and copper-toned streaks, a wolf cut that moved slightly whenever he shifted. His hands were visible even from this distance, a set of creative nails that were the only pops of color on him with rings on nearly every finger. Then she noticed the piercings on both ears, the layered chains and the layered accessories that looked like he had walked straight out of some underground music store aesthetic.

He didn’t look like he belonged in a university crowd, he looked like he had walked out of another world entirely, the type that would be popular if MySpace was still around.

And then it clicked. Oh… It’s Jinwoo…

For a moment, her focus slipped, not obvious enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for her to register the fact that he was here, watching, recording her performance like it was something normal to him.

She hadn’t expected him to come. She had thought they would meet after the show, not during it. There was no real reason for him to be here. It was a university festival, not a private invitation. She assumed he would wait somewhere quieter, somewhere less crowded but he was here, actually here and that realization almost made her forget she was on stage.

She forced herself back into the performance, shifting her attention outward again with the familiar structure of the stage wrapped around her like muscle memory. She could feel his presence even then and she knew, without even looking, that any moment she acknowledged him too much would change something in the energy between them.

So she didn’t, at least not directly. Instead, she let her eyes pass over the crowd as she moved but once or twice, her gaze slipped back toward his section, not long enough for anyone to notice except maybe him.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

When the show finished, the crowd began to disperse, the noise slowly thinning into scattered conversations and fading cheers. The members of IVE made their way backstage, still in the afterglow of the performance, while staff moved in quickly to begin the cleanup.

Wonyoung followed the routine like muscle memory. Makeup removal first. Bright stage lights replaced by softer backstage lighting as a stylist gently wiped away the performance look from her face. She sat still, hands resting neatly in her lap, blinking slowly as the energy of the stage started to fade from her system. Her mind, however, didn’t fully settle, they were still back at Jinwoo.

She had already texted him earlier, told him she would come out after the show. He had simply replied with something short and typical of him.

After her makeup was done, she changed into a simple tracksuit layered with a long cover-up and pulled her hair back in a way that made her feel less like an idol and more like someone trying very hard not to be recognized. She checked her reflection once and then looked away.

She knew exactly what she was doing and she still couldn’t fully explain why she was doing it. Going out like this, meeting him like this, felt like stepping slightly outside the frame she had carefully built for herself. One wrong person noticing. One rumor spreading. One moment taken the wrong way. And yet, she still chose to go.  It wasn’t as if she didn’t understand the risk. She understood it perfectly. That was the problem.

She could have said no.

She probably should have said no.

And yet it felt even stranger to think about continuing what they had, messages, calls, late-night conversations, without ever actually meeting properly and a boyfriend she had never gone on a real date with. It didn’t make sense in her head and for the most part, it was her first time doing something like this, the type that could get her trouble after years of playing safe.

When she was finally ready, she stepped out backstage into the open air. The festival grounds were already half empty. The once crowded area had become scattered trash bags and dismantled structures. Staff moved across the space, taking down equipment, talking quietly to each other in the background. The energy of earlier was gone, all that was left was the aftermath.

She adjusted her mask slightly and looked around and then she saw him.

Jinwoo was standing near one of the food stalls with a phone in his hand. He looked slightly out of place in the cleaning chaos, like he belonged more to the lingering noise of the performance than the silence that followed it. He had his usual accessories on with his rings, chains and the familiar disarray of style that somehow never looked accidental on him.

Wonyoung didn’t hesitate and she walked toward him.

“Jinwoo.”

Jinwoo turned around and immediately froze.

He just stared at her.

Not in an intense way, more like his brain had stopped functioning for a moment trying to process the fact that she was actually standing there in front of him instead of behind a screen or through a phone call. The silence stretched longer than it probably should have. Wonyoung almost wondered if he had forgotten how to speak entirely, then she watched realization slowly hit him all at once. His expression shifted, his face noticeably warmed, ears turning red almost instantly before he looked away too quickly, as if eye contact itself had become overwhelming.

Jinwoo was already looking at her again. Trying to, at least. His eyes met hers briefly before darting somewhere near her shoulder instead, like maintaining eye contact for more than three seconds physically pained him. Then, he mumbled

“You look beautiful…”

The words caught her off guard and apparently him too. The moment he realized he had actually said it out loud, his entire expression shifted into panic.

“Sorry—wait, no, I didn’t mean—” He stopped himself immediately, groaning under his breath. “I mean, I did mean it, but—”

He scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck, rings glinting faintly under the remaining festival lights. The tips of his ears had turned completely red now.

“You’re always beautiful,” he continued hurriedly, stumbling over nearly every word. “I just—uh…”

He looked away again for a second before finally forcing himself to face her properly, “I mean, hi,” he said quietly. “Good to see you, Wonyoung.”

“You practiced that in your head first, didn’t you?”

Jinwoo just stared at her for a moment, then immediately looked down like he’d been caught doing something embarrassing in public. The last trace of red on his face faded as he tried to regain composure. Wonyoung watched him for a second longer, then softened.

“Thank you, Jinwoo,” she said gently. “I appreciate the effort.”

He finally looked back up at her, still a little stiff, but trying to hold her gaze this time.

“So,” she asked, adjusting the ice cream in her hand, “how did you get in here? I thought we’d meet outside or somewhere else.”

“My little brother goes herei,” he said. “So I came in as his guest. Apparently guests are allowed for this kind of event as long as they’re invited by students.”

He paused, scratching lightly at the back of his neck. “I didn’t really ask him to bring me or anything if that’s what you’re thinking. He just said I had to come and that you guys were performing, so…”

He trailed off, like the explanation felt longer in his head than it did out loud. “I just came.”

Wonyoung nodded slowly, still processing it. “Aren’t you going to—”

“He’s fine,” Jinwoo cut in quickly, as if anticipating her concern. “He’s your age. 21, 22… wait, no, he turned 22 last week.”

He glanced away for a second, thinking. “He can handle going home himself. And he already knew about this anyway, so he left earlier or he’s probably with his friends.”

Then, he shifted slightly and looked back at her. “Anyways,” he said, quieter, “do you want to walk around?”

Wonyoung glanced around the nearly empty festival grounds before nodding lightly. “Okay.” Together, they left the university behind and stepped into the nightlife of Hongdae.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The streets were still alive despite the late hour. Neon signs reflected against damp pavement left behind by the earlier rain, music spilling out from restaurants and bars as groups of people passed by laughing loudly. Somewhere farther down the street, a busker was still playing guitar for the remaining crowd gathered around him. Jinwoo walked beside her quietly, matching her pace almost instinctively while still carrying that same awkward posture she remembered from before. It almost caught her off guard.

Somehow, over months of calls and online conversations, she had forgotten just how shy he actually was in person. She got used to the version of Roh Jinwoo she talked to every night online, the one that was talkative, sarcastic, occasionally rambling whenever music and his games and animes were involved but the Jinwoo beside her now felt softer around the edges, quieter, more careful. The last time she had really seen him like this was back when he was still writing for IVE, way before they started dating.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

As they wandered farther into Hongdae, Jinwoo subtly slowed his steps whenever she did, making sure she never had to adjust to keep up with him. Every now and then, she caught him glancing at her briefly before looking away again like he’d been caught staring.

He still hadn’t said much but somehow, his attention stayed entirely on her. Not once did she see him reach for his phone nor did he seem distracted by anything happening around them despite how alive the streets were at night. Instead, he simply walked beside her quietly, letting her take in Hongdae at her own pace, as if he was more interested in watching her experience the place than the place itself.

As they continued walking, she noticed a group of students that were laughing loudly and walking near them even though they were just passing by, Wonyoung instinctively moved away a little too far, Jinwoo immediately noticed this, and held her by the sleeve of her tracksuit to prevent her from steering to the road and slowly guiding her to the sidewalk. The touch lasted a second but he didn't let go immediately.

“Sorry, instincts.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just saw those kids and my instincts told me to back off.”

“You see every young person and think they're out to get you? I don't wanna judge if you think that way but I think everyone's too drunk to even care. Besides, you're incognito. I don't think anyone would see you.”

If only Jinwoo knew, shouldn't he be aware of that? But he does know Hongdae more than Wonyoung does. He was born and raised here but from what it seemed, Jinwoo does realize what he just said.

“Sorry, I think I shouldn't have downplayed your thoughts, if it's better to you, let's head somewhere. It's more secluded there.”

Wonyoung nods as the two walked to wherever he was going. They walked farther away from the crowded main streets until the atmosphere of Hongdae slowly began to change. The loud music and drunken noise faded into something quieter. Streetlights still illuminated the roads but there were noticeably fewer people now. Small businesses lined the sidewalks alongside older-looking houses and tucked-away storefronts that felt more lived-in than trendy.

Wonyoung glanced around curiously as she followed beside him, she still wasn’t entirely sure where Jinwoo was taking her. Not in a worried way, more confused. Jinwoo didn’t seem like the type to drag someone somewhere without reason. If anything, he overthought things too much, then they stopped in front of a café.

It stood out immediately from the others she was used to seeing. It had dark walls, posters of bands she didn’t recognize taped across the windows, faded stickers covering the entrance door, and even the sign itself looked intentionally rough around the edges.

“Oh,” Jinwoo mumbled quietly, sounding almost relieved. “It’s still open.”

He stepped forward and opened the door for her, holding it there awkwardly until she walked inside before following after her. The inside looked exactly how she imagined it would. There was dim lighting, old rock music playing softly through speakers overhead, framed vinyl records and signed posters decorated the walls while a small stage sat tucked in one corner of the café. It didn’t feel polished or aesthetic in the carefully curated way most cafés did.

It felt real, lived in, and completely different from the cafes Wonyoung usually visited.

“Do you wanna order?” Jinwoo asked as they walked toward the counter. “You should try their tarts. They’re really good.”

“Their tarts?”

She leaned slightly toward the glass display, scanning the pastries lined neatly behind it. They did look good.

“I’ll try that one,” she said, pointing toward a cherry tart.

Jinwoo nodded immediately before patting his pockets and checking his wallet.

“What about drinks?”

“A medium iced Americano is fine.”

“Okay,” he murmured, glancing down into his wallet again. “That’s enough.”

Wonyoung looked at him. “Jinwoo, it’s okay. I can pay for my own.”

“It’s a date,” he replied simply. “I’m paying for us.”

“I—”

“One cherry tart, one lemon meringue, a medium iced Americano, and a medium mocha latte.”

He spoke before she could argue further, addressing the barista at the register. Wonyoung blinked slightly as she looked at the woman behind the counter. She had bright pink hair, a nose bridge piercing, a lip ring, and a snake tattoo wrapped around one arm disappearing beneath rolled sleeves. Even the employees here looked different from the cozy café staff she was used to seeing elsewhere.

“This place really is…” she muttered quietly to herself.

The cashier typed something into the register before looking up. “8000 won.”

Jinwoo immediately pulled cash from his wallet and handed it over before taking the receipt. Afterward, the two of them moved toward one of the emptier tables near the side of the café. Wonyoung sat down across from him, glancing around the place once more. She still couldn’t fully understand why he brought her here.

“It’s my first time seeing a café like this,” she admitted.

Jinwoo looked around casually. “Well… that’s Hongdae for you. Places here always try to be different from each other.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you brought me here.” She tilted her head slightly. “This doesn’t really seem like my type of place.”

The second the words left her mouth, Jinwoo’s eyes widened slightly. “Really?” he asked immediately. “I’m sorry.”

The apology came so quickly it almost startled her. “I just thought…” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “You always let me play my playlists whenever we’re on Minecraft together, so I thought maybe you’d like this kind of place too.”

He looked genuinely embarrassed now. “That was probably stupid, sorry. I should have thought this further… I just…” He hesitated briefly before glancing toward the corner of the café. “I wanted to come back here with someone.”

Wonyoung followed his gaze, he pointed toward the small stage tucked in the corner. “This is where me and the band had our first gig,” he said quietly. “That stage right there.”

Wonyoung looked toward it again. There were still instruments resting near the back wall. A drum kit with a mic attached to it, three mic stands, guitar amps stacked carelessly beside each other. For the first time since entering the café, the place suddenly made sense to her. She remembered he mentioned that he was a part of a band called Driveway Saints as the lead guitarist and he mentioned it was a band they made with his high school friends. She did hear some of their music and if she was being honest, it wasn’t her cup of tea but she wouldn’t deny that he and the guys were talented.

“But it wasn’t really in front of as many people as you think. It was only like, 12 people there at the time…”

Wonyoung’s gaze slowly wandered away from the stage and toward the walls of the café instead. They were covered in vinyl records, old album sleeves, faded band posters, and framed photographs taken over what looked like years of performances held in the small venue. Some of the frames captured crowded nights with local bands on stage, others showed blurry groups of musicians posing together after shows. It felt less like decoration and more like a collection of memories, then one particular frame caught her attention.

There were 4 teenage boys standing on the very same stage Jinwoo had pointed out earlier, three with their instruments hanging awkwardly from their shoulders and one boy in the back aggressively pounding on the drum kit beneath dim lighting. Despite the grainy quality of the photo, one of them immediately looked familiar.

A boy was standing on the left side, holding an electric guitar loosely against himself, he had a natural black hair falling over his forehead in a much shorter style than what Jinwoo had now. He wore a faded band shirt and skinny jeans, noticeably lacking the tattoos, layered jewelry, and heavy styling Wonyoung had grown used to seeing on him.

Still, it was obviously him.

“Is that you?” she asked, pointing lightly toward the frame.

Jinwoo followed her gaze. The second he realized which picture she meant, his entire expression shifted into immediate regret.

“Oh my God…” he muttered, already covering part of his face with one hand. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Wonyoung looked back at the photo, trying not to smile too obviously. “You looked different.”

“I looked stupid,” Jinwoo corrected instantly, visibly cringing at his 16 year old self. “That outfit was terrible. I genuinely thought I looked cool in that fit back then.”

He leaned farther back into his chair like distancing himself physically from the photograph would somehow help. “I was 16,” he continued. “And I was still getting held back by school rules, so I couldn’t dress how I wanted yet.”

Wonyoung glanced between the photo and the man sitting across from her now. The differences were obvious but somehow the expression on his face hadn’t changed much at all. He was still awkward and slightly uncomfortable being perceived.

Then they both heard a voice from the counter.

“Order number 67!”

“Oh, that’s ours,” Jinwoo said immediately, standing up from the table.

Before Wonyoung could even react, he was already moving toward the counter.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

They quietly ate their food, the soft music from the café filling the silence between them. Wonyoung picked at her cherry tart and iced Americano while Jinwoo sat across from her with his lemon meringue and mocha latte.

Neither of them spoke much after that.

Wonyoung didn’t mind the silence as much as she thought she would. Instead, she found herself watching him again, still trying to understand him beyond phone calls and screens. This was the first time she had ever properly sat across from him like this in real life.

Jinwoo, meanwhile, looked momentarily lost in thought as he chewed quietly, gaze drifting somewhere past the table for a few seconds before returning to her again. It wasn’t the kind of distraction that felt dismissive. If anything, it felt like he was still adjusting to the fact that she was actually here and every time his attention wandered, it always found its way back to her anyway.

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, Jinwoo straightened slightly in his seat.

“Oh.”

He reached for his phone beside his drink and unlocked it, scrolling through his gallery with a small crease forming between his brows. “I think I forgot to record half the performance…”

Wonyoung looked up from her tart. “What?”

Jinwoo tilted the screen toward himself, visibly realizing just how few clips he had actually taken. Most of them were short, shaky, and cut off awkwardly after a few seconds. “There’s barely anything here,” he muttered. “I thought I recorded more.”

Wonyoung leaned slightly closer out of curiosity. “You were recording though.”

“Yeah, but…” He paused briefly before saying it without thinking, “I kept watching you instead.”

The moment the sentence fully left his mouth, Jinwoo froze.

Wonyoung saw the realization hit him in real time.

Then, his ears immediately started turning red again. “…Oh.”. He looked away so fast it almost made her laugh.

Jinwoo grabbed his mocha latte and took a long sip from it pretending to drink like it somehow erased the fact he had just admitted that out loud. He stared very intently at the table afterward, refusing to look directly at her.

Meanwhile, Wonyoung was trying, and failing, not to smile too obviously. Without another word, Jinwoo awkwardly slid his phone toward her across the table like a peace offering.

“You can look if you want,” he mumbled quietly.

Wonyoung took the phone from him, scrolling through the gallery herself.

Most of the clips were short. Some were blurry because he moved too much, one completely missed the choreography because the camera tilted upward toward the stage lights halfway through and another was only three seconds long.

She laughed softly under her breath.

“You recorded all this?”

“I wanted to remember it properly,” Jinwoo admitted. Then he paused again, “My bad. I should’ve taken more videos.”

Wonyoung glanced up from the phone. “You know normal people would probably focus on recording the performance first.”

“I know,” he said immediately, still avoiding eye contact out of embarrassment. “I just got distracted.”

“Distracted?”

Jinwoo finally looked at her for half a second before immediately looking somewhere else again.

“You were on stage,” he said like that explained everything. To him, apparently, it did.

Wonyoung looked back down at the videos again, replaying one of the clips silently. It was shaky, badly framed, and cut off too early but somehow, it felt strangely genuine and entirely in his perspective and for some reason, she liked that more.

“L-Let’s just continue walking,” Jinwoo stammered, his ears still faintly red.

He quickly took his phone back, clearing his throat as if trying to reset the entire moment. Coincidentally, both of them had already finished eating. He stood first, collecting their trash and wiping the table almost a little too carefully, like putting things in order would help him regain composure. Wonyoung followed him out of the café shortly after.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Outside, Hongdae felt different again.

The deeper they walked, the quieter it became. The bright neon glow softened behind them, replaced by dimmer streetlights and narrower streets. The noise of the main roads faded into something more distant, almost like the city itself was lowering its voice. They crossed into smaller backstreets where the buildings looked older, more residential, and less performative. The energy of performance and crowd noise was gone now replaced by stillness and occasional passing footsteps.

Wonyoung didn’t ask where they were going, she simply followed. It felt easier that way. After a while, she spoke quietly. “You know… moments like this are rare.”

Jinwoo glanced at her immediately, a small tilt of his head signaling he was listening.

“To be honest,” she continued, looking ahead instead of at him, “I don’t really remember the last time I had a moment like this. Just walking and not thinking about anything else.”

Jinwoo didn’t interrupt. He just walked beside her, slower now, matching her pace without needing to adjust. “That bad?” he asked after a moment.

Wonyoung let out a soft breath that was almost a laugh, but not quite. “Yeah… I guess. I’ve been in the industry since I was 13. I was casted in my sister’s graduation, I competed in a survival show and ranked first and center, I debuted in two groups, both as center and visual, and my face is kind of everywhere in this country.”

She didn’t say it dramatically, just honestly like stating a fact she had gotten used to repeating.

Jinwoo stayed quiet the entire time, listening without looking away, as if giving her space to say everything she needed without interruption. When she finished, there was a brief pause between them.

Then, very simply, Jinwoo said, “Oh… how does that feel?”

Wonyoung glanced at him, and for a second she almost smiled at how straightforward he was.

“Not as much,” she said. “Just constant. I’m used to it.”

“Oh,” he murmured, nodding slightly. “I’m sorry.”

He looked ahead for a moment, thinking. “I get that feeling sometimes too,” he added. “Not the same way but when everything’s too loud, or when people expect too much from you. I usually just disappear somewhere. I’m probably sleeping in my place, talking to my friends or doing whatever.”

He hesitated. Then, Jinwoo corrected himself softly, like he was realizing his words might not be enough. “I didn’t mean to compare it. I just… get why it’s tiring.”

Wonyoung shook her head slightly. “It’s okay.”

Jinwoo nodded once, then fell quiet again but this time it didn’t feel awkward. After a few steps, he spoke again, a little more carefully this time. “I’m glad you’re here like this,” he said. “Like not on stage.”

He scratched lightly at the back of his neck, eyes flicking away for a second. “And if you ever have stuff in your head, I might not be good at advice, but I can listen.”

He paused, then added almost immediately, “…properly. I mean.”

Wonyoung looked at him, really looked him and for once, Jinwoo didn’t look away right away. They continued walking, slower this time and somewhere along the way, Wonyoung realized she had stopped checking every passing face around her. The tension she’d been carrying since leaving the university had eased little by little without her noticing. Earlier, every group of students, every glance in her direction, every crowded corner had made her instinctively pull back into herself again but now, she wasn’t thinking about any of that as much anymore and somehow, that realization hit her all at once.

She had spent so long carefully maintaining herself around other people, monitoring expressions, posture, reactions, that she hadn’t even realized when the instinctive “idol mode” she carried around had slowly started slipping away tonight yet beside Jinwoo, it happened naturally and it faded out.

The feeling settled somewhere deep in her chest, soft enough that she almost didn’t know how to describe it. She had felt versions of this before during their late-night calls and endless online conversations, the strange sense of calm that always seemed to follow him around, but experiencing it in person felt different somehow.

For a first real date, this night was turning out nothing like she expected in a good way and for once, she didn’t mind not knowing where it was going.

Wonyoung’s attention drifted toward one of the few flower stalls that was somehow still open at this hour. Among the smaller bouquets and wrapped flowers sitting beneath the warm lights, one bundle immediately stood out to her. They were sunflowers.

She slowed slightly as she looked at them, they felt strangely out of place.

First of all, it was nighttime. Second, sunflowers weren’t exactly the kind of flower she expected to casually see in the middle of Seoul and third, sunflower season wouldn’t even start until summer yet somehow, despite all of that, they still stood out naturally against everything else around them.

That was then she remembered: the countless times she had tried learning more about Driveway Saints and their fandom culture after she and Jinwoo started talking more seriously. She never fully dove into it, mostly because she was still stubbornly trying to limit her screen time back then and their music again, wasn’t her cup of tea except for maybe one or two songs but there was one thing she constantly noticed.

For some reason, fans always associated Jinwoo with them and she never really understood why. 

Nothing about him visually screamed sunflowers. Not the heavy eyeliner, not the tattoos, not the layered chains or dark clothes, not the constantly changing hair colors or literally, everything about him. Even his role within the band felt rougher around the edges compared to something as bright as a sunflower, it didn’t match.

Back then, she had meant to look deeper into where the association came from, but schedules got in the way and eventually she forgot about it entirely. As they stood beneath the flower stall lights, she finally asked quietly, “Why do your fans connect you to sunflowers?”

Jinwoo followed her gaze toward the bouquet. For a second, he looked genuinely confused, like he hadn’t thought about it in a while then he let out a small breath through his nose.

“It’s kind of a lot of random reasons,” he admitted.

He shifted his hands into the pockets of his pants as he spoke. “During our first album era, I had this hair color people knew me for.” He motioned vaguely toward his own hair. “Everything was dyed blonde except the roots, and fans kept saying it looked like sunflower petals or whatever.”

Wonyoung tried picturing it. Honestly, she could kind of see it.

“And,” he continued, “there’s these cargo pants I wear a lot that have sunflower patches sewn onto them. I’m wearing them right now.” He glanced down briefly before nudging the fabric near his knee slightly with one hand.

“My mom sewed them herself so I kept wearing them.”

Wonyoung looked properly this time and noticed faint embroidered sunflowers stitched along one side of the pants beneath the dim streetlight.

Then he shrugged. “So yeah. Back in like, 2020, the whole look was basically these pants and the hair.” He looked away awkwardly afterward. “Not really that deep.”

Wonyoung glanced again at the sunflowers stitched onto his pants, then back at him. “It doesn’t really match your image.”

“I know,” Jinwoo said immediately, almost like he’d heard that plenty of times before. “But fans seem to think otherwise.”

“Oh?” she tilted her head slightly.

He shrugged, hands still tucked in his pockets. “I don’t really know why they picked it, but I don’t mind it. I just kind of… trust it at this point.”

Wonyoung watched him as he spoke and Jinwoo continued, “I think fans are weirdly good at picking up patterns,” he said. “Even if they don’t know everything about someone, they notice things you don’t think matter.”

He glanced briefly toward the sunflower stall again. “Maybe they don’t get it completely right,” he added, “but they’re not completely wrong either.”

Then, after a small pause, he looked back at her. “I guess I just let them have that one.”

Wonyoung listened as he spoke about fans.

She didn’t expect him to be so genuine about it.

Most of what she had heard from people in the industry tended to fall into extremes. Either carefully polished gratitude, the kind that felt rehearsed and safe, or distant remarks that treated fans like something abstract rather than people.

Jinwoo didn’t sound like either.

He wasn’t overly sentimental, and he wasn’t dismissive either. It was something in between; respectful without trying to turn it into a performance.

A kind of quiet acknowledgment and for her, that was one of the most respectful approaches for an artist with their fans. It suited him.

She could tell he wasn’t the type to demand anything from people. Not attention, not understanding, not even emotional access. He seemed more comfortable letting things exist as they were, allowing people to show what they chose to show and strangely, that felt more comforting than constant reassurance and praise. In a world where so many people wanted full access to her life, Jinwoo didn’t seem to expect it. He just accepted whatever version of herself she chose to share in the moment.

It made him feel safe in a way she didn’t fully know how to explain but before she could think about it further, Jinwoo’s voice broke through the quiet space. He glanced at his phone. “Oh… it’s getting late.”

Wonyoung checked hers as well.

He was right.

The night had moved faster than she realized. “I should probably catch the train,” she said softly.

“I can go with you,” Jinwoo replied immediately, already shifting his weight like he was about to stand.

Wonyoung shook her head slightly. “Jinwoo, I’m fine. It’s just going to Gangnam.”

“It’s nighttime,” he said simply. “Anything can happen. You could get in danger.”

She gave him a small, tired look. “But what about you? You still have to get back to Hongdae.”

He paused for a second. “The last train’s later,” he said. “And if I miss it… Gyumin’s place is in Gangnam anyway. He’ll let me stay over.” That was said so casually it almost didn’t sound like an argument at all.

Wonyoung exhaled through her nose, a faint smile forming despite herself. Of course he had a backup plan.

She didn’t argue further after that. Instead, she nodded once, adjusting her cap slightly.

“Okay,” she said quietly.

And together, they started walking toward the station. When they arrived at the station, crowds were already gathering near the platform. They had made it just in time. The train pulled in with a loud screech against the tracks, and almost immediately, people began pushing forward to get inside before the doors even fully opened. The crowd thickened fast enough that Wonyoung briefly lost sense of where she was supposed to move next.

Jinwoo stayed close beside her the entire time. Without saying much, he lightly placed a hand against her waist, subtly guiding her through the crowd so they wouldn’t get separated. The touch was brief and careful, just enough to steer her in the right direction without drawing attention.

Eventually, they managed to get inside the train. There weren’t any seats left, so the two of them ended up standing near one of the windows while more passengers continued squeezing in around them.

Wonyoung leaned her head lightly against the glass, watching the city lights blur past outside as the train started moving again. It was cramped and suffocating but somehow, Jinwoo kept making the space around her easier to breathe in without making it obvious he was doing it. Whenever someone pushed past to leave the train, he would quietly place a hand between her and the crowd so she wouldn’t get bumped directly. When the train jerked slightly during turns, he instinctively braced himself against the pole beside her, creating enough space so the shifting crowd wouldn’t press into her.

None of it felt forced. He definitely wasn’t making a big deal out of it. If anything, it seemed subconscious, those tiny gestures settled warmth into her chest more effectively than grand words ever could.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Wonyoung was finally back at the dorm.

By now, all her members were already asleep, leaving the place unusually quiet as she carefully slipped inside. She quietly headed toward her room, shutting the door behind her before finally turning the lights on.

The first thing she did was pull off her mask and cap before letting herself fall backward onto the bed with a tired sigh.

Only then did everything fully settle in.

The date had ended with Jinwoo walking her all the way back to the dorm building, insisting he was fine leaving later as long as he knew she got back safely. Even after she entered through the gates of the building, she noticed he still hadn’t left immediately. He only turned around once he saw her disappear inside.

For some reason, that memory lingered with her the most. 

As she stared up at the ceiling, moments from the night replayed slowly in her head. She had already been dating him for a while, yet somehow tonight still felt like she had gotten to know him all over again.

Jinwoo might have been quieter and more timid in real life compared to how he acted on Discord calls, but when it came to her, he was still the same person underneath all of it. He was attentive, patient, and careful in ways he didn’t feel forced. He listened more than he talked, he noticed things without pointing them out and throughout the entire night, he kept finding small ways to make sure she felt comfortable without ever asking for anything back.

As those thoughts settled in her chest, Wonyoung finally realized something. Maybe people were never comparing him to sunflowers because they were bright, maybe it was because warmth could exist quietly too.

Jinwoo wasn’t the loudest person in the room. He wasn’t someone who demanded attention the moment he walked in but somehow, he still had this way of making people feel lighter around him, as if the world softened a little whenever he was there and maybe that was why people saw sunflowers in him after all. He wasn’t sunlight itself, but somehow, he always found ways to lead her toward it.

Maybe that was what the entire night had been. The place where everything felt bright and warm despite the setting, just like sunflower fields. For the first time in a long while, she felt lighter like, for a few hours, she had been taken somewhere far away from everything exhausting. Somewhere warm and safe.

She let out a small laugh to herself as she stared up at the ceiling.

Was it where all the sunflowers were hiding… or where they were shining?

Either way, as sleep slowly started pulling at her, Wonyoung found herself thinking one thing quietly.

yunjin x male! oc word count: 7520 words part of the series: driveway saints synopsis: one text from her ex and huh yunjin goes straight to his place, the only question: seeing him was a bad idea, right? tw: suggestive (probably), implied mental health issues

It was a chaotic night out for Yunjin, well, mostly in the way her own thoughts kept drifting away from the present. She was out with her Le Sserafim members, having a late-night dinner after a long day of schedules. Nothing about the setting was loud or overwhelming. No flashing lights, no crowded club, no strangers brushing past their table, just warm lighting, tired voices, and food slowly disappearing as they talked.

Compared to the kinds of late-night outings she sometimes had outside the group, this was calm and she didn’t mind it. Over the past few years with them and even knowing two of them since Produce 48, she understood their rhythm. They weren’t the type to chase chaotic nights. They preferred this: familiar faces, quieter spaces, conversations that didn’t demand too much energy and she was always okay to meet them there. They were still her people, after all.

“And then, she ended up with ketchup all over her face!” Yunjin said, leaning forward slightly as she finished the story.

The table erupted into laughter. Someone groaned in secondhand embarrassment, another member nearly dropped their chopsticks laughing. Yunjin laughed too, her shoulders relaxed as she added little details between breaths, letting the moment carry her.

And then, her phone buzzed.

She glanced down without much thought at first, still smiling from the conversation but the name on the screen made her pause just a little longer than she meant to.

Do Hyunsoo.

The smile didn’t disappear. It just… softened.

She kept listening for a second, nodding at something someone said, but her attention had already shifted. Her thumb hovered, then tapped.

A message thread opened.

Hyunsoo u busy? i can send the address to my place airdrop

The room kept moving around her. Someone was still talking, someone else was laughing again.

But Yunjin didn’t answer immediately.

She just stared at the screen for a moment longer than she should’ve, her thumb resting lightly against the edge of her phone, as if the weight of a simple message had suddenly made everything else a little quieter than before.

Do Hyunsoo was someone she had a relationship with back when she was a trainee at Pledis Entertainment. It wasn’t a long relationship, it lasted close to a year, but it ended quietly, almost in passing, around the time she was still in the midst of survival show pressure on Produce 48. Coincidentally, it was also around the same period he stepped away from the trainee system and returned to school, leaving the company. They were still together but it eventually fizzled out around the episode she got eliminated.

After that, she didn’t hear from him for years.

Not until about three or four years later, when his name started surfacing again, this time not in the context of debuting as an idol, but as the drummer of Driveway Saints, a four member high school band formed by friends who had started out performing casually in one of their member's driveway before gaining attention online through YouTube covers. He had shifted into something completely different from what she remembered, but unmistakably still him.

Yunjin never reached out at the time. She didn’t think she would, their lives no longer moved in the same circles, not like they had during their trainee days, and she assumed whatever they once had would stay in the past.

That changed a couple of months ago, when a mutual acquaintance, someone who had also trained under Pledis Entertainment, ended up reconnecting the two of them, unintentionally reopening a line of communication that had stayed closed for years.

After that, they started talking again.

It wasn’t anything intense; just messages here and there, occasional check-ins, brief conversations that didn’t dig too deep into what they used to be. On the surface, it felt easy enough to understand like they had moved past whatever needed to be moved past and yet, for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, there were still moments where it felt like something hadn’t fully settled between them.

She glanced at her phone once and then again, just to be sure she hadn’t misread it.

Before she could process it any further, a voice cut in.

“Is everything alright?” Sakura asked, her tone light but attentive.

Yunjin looked up, realizing a little too late that she’d gone quiet. The others were looking at her now, not intensely, just enough to notice the pause.

“Who texted you?” Chaewon added.

Yunjin blinked once, then let out a small breath, the corners of her lips lifting into an easy smile as she locked her phone.

“Ah, it's no one,” she said, a little too quickly, but light enough to pass. “Just… someone from before.”

She didn’t linger on it, didn’t give it space to grow into anything bigger. Instead, she leaned back into the conversation, picking up where they left off, laughing at the right moments, adding a comment here and there like nothing had shifted.

And for a while, it worked but every now and then, almost without thinking, her fingers brushed against her phone where it rested beside her plate but the more she tried to push the thought aside, the more it lingered.

It didn’t make sense, she hadn’t seen him in years, they had dated when they were barely adults and it was something that lasted less than a year, eight years ago. At 24, it shouldn’t matter anymore. It didn’t matter anymore.

They were just friends now. Nothing more, nothing less.

Yunjin stayed in the conversation easily, throwing in a comment here and there, laughing when someone teased her, picking up where she left off like nothing had changed. And for the most part, it looked like it hadn’t.

But in between those moments, her attention kept slipping.

Back to her phone. Back to the message.

Maybe she could just go, just for a bit, after dinner.

No… she shouldn’t.

She reached for her drink, nodding along as someone spoke, only catching the end of what they said before responding anyway. It wasn’t complicated. He was still her ex. No matter how casually she framed it, no matter how much time had passed, that part didn’t change.

And yet, talking to Hyunsoo had always been easy and familiar. There was a steadiness to him, something she didn’t have to think about or figure out. Being around him had never felt difficult, like nothing had ever really gone wrong. The type that had that sense of familiarity and a reminder of the girl she was.

Her fingers tapped lightly against the side of her glass before she stopped herself, glancing down at her phone for the second time in less than a minute.

This was a bad idea.

She already knew that.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Hyunsoo?”

Yunjin looked up, her expression lighting up almost instantly when she spotted him by the doorway. He stood there slightly out of place in the practice room, bundled in a puffer jacket against the cold outside, a paper bag hanging from one hand.

He smiled when he saw her.

She didn’t hesitate, despite still being in her Produce 48 uniform, she crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him.

“It’s cold out,” she said as she pulled back, brows knitting slightly. “You could’ve gotten sick.”

“I’m fine, Jen.” He shrugged lightly, setting the bag down as he moved further inside. “I had a jacket. And… you said you just finished filming, so I wanted to check on you.

He took a seat on one of the chairs, opening the paper bag and starting to take things out one by one. “I brought some food,” he added. “Just in case you didn’t eat properly.”

Yunjin watched as he set everything down. There was yogurt, seaweed, roasted sweet potatoes. Her favorites.

Her brows lifted slightly, something softer settling into her expression. “Hyunsoo… how did you know?”

“Know what?” he asked, glancing up at her.

“I was literally craving these.”

He paused for a second, like he was thinking about it, then just shrugged again. “Lucky guess? You should eat. You said you’re filming again tomorrow, right?”

Yunjin let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head a little as she sat down across from him, reaching for the food.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “We are.”

Yunjin reached for the yogurt first, peeling it open before moving on to the roasted sweet potatoes. She didn’t realize how hungry she was until the first bite.

For a while, neither of them said anything.

Hyunsoo just sat there beside her, his presence steady rather than intrusive. He wasn’t staring in a way that made her uncomfortable, he was just watching, every now and then, like he was making sure she was actually eating and not just saying she would.

He had always been like that. Not loud. Not pushy. Just there.

“You should get some too,” Yunjin said after a moment, nudging the container slightly toward him. “You literally brought these.”

“I already ate.”

“You sure?”

He nodded, but his gaze lingered a second longer than it needed to, like there was something on his mind he wasn’t quite putting into words. Yunjin noticed, she always did.

“So,” she said, shifting slightly as she took another bite, “how’s school?”

That seemed to catch him off guard. He glanced at her, then away, like he needed a second to think about it. “It’s… okay.”

Yunjin raised a brow immediately. “Okay?” she echoed, a small smile tugging at her lips. “That’s it? I don’t buy that.”

He let out a quiet breath through his nose, almost like a half-laugh. “It’s fine,” he said again, softer this time.

“What about those guys?” she pressed. “The ones you told me about, the ones from the music room?”

He hesitated. “Them?” he repeated, like he was still deciding how to describe it. “I mean… they’re nice.”

“That doesn’t sound convincing.”

“They are,” he added quickly, glancing back at her. “They just… already know each other, you know? Since middle school.”

Yunjin didn’t interrupt this time.

“I only started hanging out with them recently,” he continued, voice quieter now. “So I don’t really know what to call it yet.”

There was no bitterness in the way he said it, just uncertainty, like he wasn’t sure where exactly he fit in something that had already been there before him.

Yunjin studied him for a second, her expression softening just a little. “You’re underestimating yourself again,” she said, nudging him lightly. “You said no, and they still came back to ask you again, not everyone does that.”

He didn’t answer right away.

For a moment, he just sat there, like he was turning her words over in his head. “…I guess,” he said eventually, giving a small shrug. Then, after a while, “You should probably be saying the same thing to yourself.”

Yunjin blinked. “What?”

He glanced at her briefly before looking away again, tone quieter this time. “You’ve been off,” he said. “Since I got here.”

Her brows furrowed slightly.

“You’re still talking, yeah,” he added, almost like he was correcting himself, “but it’s not the same.”

That caught her.

“I—what do you mean?”

He hesitated, like he was choosing his words carefully. “Something’s bothering you,” he said simply. “You just haven’t said it.”

Yunjin stared at him for a second, caught off guard.

How did he—?

She had been talking the whole time. Laughing, even. She didn’t think it was that obvious.

“…How did you know?” she asked, quieter now.

He let out a small breath, almost like it wasn’t a big deal. “You’re not as hard to read as you think.” There was no judgment in it, just the quiet certainty he had. 

Yunjin looked down at her hands, fingers loosely wrapped around the container.

For a moment, she didn’t say anything.

Then—

“I…” she started, her voice faltering slightly. “I messed up.”

Hyunsoo looked at her, brows lifting slightly as he waited for her to continue.

“There was a part I missed while we were filming,” Yunjin said, words coming out a little faster now. “And I can’t stop thinking about it. I don’t even know how to explain it properly, but I really messed up.”

She let out a breath, shaking her head. “I’m just… scared that when it airs, it’s gonna look bad. Like everything’s gonna fall apart because of that one mistake.”

Hyunsoo didn’t interrupt. He just listened, eyes on her, letting her get everything out. When she finished, he stayed quiet for a second before letting out a small sigh. “I’m not really good at giving advice,” he admitted.

Yunjin let out a quiet, breathy laugh. “Yeah, I know.”

“But I heard you,” he added, glancing at her. “And I don’t think it’s gonna turn out the way you think it will.”

She frowned slightly. “You haven’t even seen it.”

“I don’t have to.” He said it simply with no hesitation. “You practiced that for hours,” he continued. “One mistake’s not gonna erase all of that.”

Yunjin didn’t respond right away.

He shifted slightly in his seat, his tone turned softer. “I think you’re being harder on yourself than anyone else will be.”

There was a small pause. “…I believe in you,” he added, quieter this time. “So you should too.”

“But what if someone does notice?”

“People always notice something,” he said. “That doesn’t mean it’s the only thing they’ll see.”

“You’ve got more chances after this.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Yunjin sat in the back of an Uber, the city lights passing in streaks outside the window.

The plan had been simple, they were all supposed to walk back to the dorm together after dinner but somewhere along the way, she told them she had somewhere to stop by first, that she’d be back soon and update the group chat if things changed.

They were hesitant, it was late, but they trusted her enough to let it go.

So now she was here, on her way to the address he had Airdropped.

The car slowed to a stop in front of an apartment building, and the moment it did, reality seemed to settle in all at once.

“Here?” the driver asked.

Yunjin blinked, then nodded quickly. “Yeah—thank you.” She paid, stepped out, and the door shut behind her with a quiet thud.

For a second, she just stood there, then she looked up.

Second floor. Her grip tightened slightly around her phone as she glanced back down at the screen, rereading the address like it might change if she stared at it long enough.

This was a bad idea, she could still leave. She hadn’t gone up yet, hadn’t knocked, hadn’t done anything she couldn’t take back. So why wasn’t she moving?

Yunjin let out a slow breath, eyes flicking between the entrance and her phone. She knew better than this, she really did.

And yet, she stepped forward anyway.

Yunjin took the stairs.

Second floor. That’s what he said.

Her footsteps echoed softly as she made her way down the hallway, glancing at the numbers on each door, then back at her phone just to be sure.

Room 226.

She stopped. Slowly, she looked up.

226

So this was it.

For a second, she just stood there, her grip tightening slightly around her phone. She could still turn around, leave before this became anything more than a thought she didn’t act on. Instead, she reached forward and pressed the doorbell, the sound felt louder than it should’ve. She waited. A few moments later, the door opened and there he was.

Hyunsoo leaned slightly against the doorframe, a small, familiar smile already on his face.

For a moment, all she could do was look, he was different.

Not in a way that made him unrecognizable but enough that it caught her off guard anyway. His body felt broader now, more filled out than the lanky boy she remembered. The tank top he wore didn’t hide it, the lines of his shoulders more defined, his arms marked with tattoos she knew hadn’t been there before. His hair was shorter too, grown out from a buzz cut, not styled but it felt like him and somehow, it all fit. There was something steadier about him now like he’d grown into himself in a way she hadn’t noticed until now.

“Hey,” he said, like it hadn’t been years, like this was normal. “Didn’t think you’d actually arrive.”

He stepped aside slightly, holding the door open.

“Come inside.”

Yunjin stood there for a second, the whole thing still feeling a little unreal. He was normal about it, then again, they were friends now or at least, that’s what they called it.

She stepped inside, slipping off her shoes by the door before following him further in. His place felt lived-in. Not messy, not overly clean, just right.

“So,” Hyunsoo said, glancing back at her, “can I get you something? Water, coffee, tea—”

“Water’s fine,” she cut in lightly, already settling onto the couch like she was trying to act more comfortable than she actually felt.

“Okay.”

He nodded and headed toward the kitchen, but paused for a second like he just remembered something.

“Oh and, uh… expect Lola to come up to you,” he added, gesturing slightly. “It’s her first time seeing you.”

Yunjin blinked. “Lola?”

Before he could answer, she felt something brush against her leg. She looked down and saw a dog.

“Oh, hi,” she said instinctively, letting out a small laugh as the dog sniffed at her, curious but not aggressive. “Okay… no warning at all, got it.”

“She won’t bite,” Hyunsoo called from the kitchen.

“I would hope not,” Yunjin shot back, amused, though she let her hand hover for a second before cautiously reaching down.

The dog sniffed her fingers, then lingered. Yunjin glanced toward the kitchen, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“I think she likes me,” she said, half-joking, half-testing.

Hyunsoo let out a quiet chuckle as she reached down to pet the dog. Up close, she caught a faint scent, something clean. Shampoo, maybe or was it body wash? Whatever it was, it lingered just enough to notice.

“My bad,” he said, like he’d caught her reaction. “I just showered. I just came from the gym, so… didn’t really get to clean up the place.”

Yunjin huffed a small laugh. “Wow. I feel so honored.”

He shook his head, already turning toward the kitchen. “You can sit. I’ll get your water.”

She watched him for a second before settling back into the couch, the dog still lingering near her like she’d already been accepted. A low hum filled the space as he started the blender. Yunjin let her gaze wander. Then, her eyes landed on the wall, there were picture frames hung on them. She leaned forward slightly, squinting just a bit as she took them in.

There were a few of him. Then some with three other guys, all of them close, mid-laugh in most of them like the photos were taken in the middle of something instead of for it. She figured those had to be his bandmates in Driveway Saints.

There were family photos too with his parents and siblings. She’d seen them once or twice before, back when things were different, but never long enough to actually know them. The only thing she knew was that he had a brother that taught Hyunsoo drums when he was four and he was also in a band himself and a sister that mostly posted makeup tutorials on YouTube. Other than that, a year wasn’t enough for that.

Her gaze lingered for a second longer before she leaned back again, exhaling quietly. He felt different. Not just from before but from the people she was used to being around now.

Everything in her world was polished.

He wasn’t.

And somehow, that was exactly why being here didn’t feel as strange as it should’ve.

Yunjin glanced toward the kitchen, the soft hum of the blender still filling the space.

After a while, Hyunsoo finally came back into the living room, holding two drinks, water for her, and a protein shake for himself. He set them down on the coffee table and then lingered there for a second like he wasn’t sure where to look.

That was when it hit her. She hadn’t even asked why she was here or more specifically, why he had sent her his address. She was so caught up in everything that she forgot to ask the simplest question.

“Oh, right,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “Why did you text me your address? I mean, if you just wanted to hang out, we could’ve gone somewhere else.”

Hyunsoo didn’t answer right away. He picked up his drink, took a slow sip, then set it back down. His eyes stayed on the table like it had something easier to figure out than her face. “I wanted to address the elephant in the room,” he said finally.

Yunjin blinked once. “The elephant in the room?”

He nodded slightly, still not looking at her. “We’ve known each other for a while,” he said. “And I think I owe you something I never really said properly.”

“What I should’ve said… eight years ago.”

That line settled heavier than the rest.

For a moment, Yunjin didn’t respond. Instead, her mind drifted back.

How things had slowly shifted during Produce 48, the missed calls, the shorter replies, the days where everything felt like it was happening too fast for either of them to keep up with. They had tried, in their own ways, to hold on but between filming, pressure, and distance, there had eventually been less to hold.

Not a fight, just silence that stretched too long and then it stopped being something they talked about at all until now.

“There’s something I didn’t tell you back then,” Hyunsoo said, his voice quieter now. “About why I left the company.”

Yunjin looked at him, attentive but calm. “You said it just wasn’t your thing anymore. The whole idol path.”

“It wasn’t,” he nodded. “But that wasn’t all of it.” He paused, fingers lightly tapping against the side of his glass before he stopped himself. “I was there for a long time,” he continued. “And I wanted a debut spot, like, really wanted it. So I started getting too caught up in everything. How I looked, how I was doing, whether I was good enough.”

Yunjin didn’t interrupt this time.

“I wasn’t doing great,” he admitted. “I didn’t really know what was going on, though. I just thought I needed to be more disciplined.” He let out a small breath. “It took me a while—after I left—to realize it wasn’t just that.”

He didn’t elaborate, and somehow, he didn’t need to. “I think that… affected how I handled everything, us included.”

Yunjin’s expression softened slightly, but she stayed quiet, letting him continue.

“I wanted to tell you,” he said. “But you had just gotten into Produce 48. You were finally getting that chance, and I didn’t want to mess with that.”

A faint, almost self-conscious smile passed his face. “And I didn’t even know how to explain it properly anyway.”

He glanced down again. “So I just… dealt with it on my own. Or at least I thought I was.”

A pause settled between them before he spoke again, more honestly this time. “When things started getting distant between us, I noticed,” he said. “I just didn’t do anything about it.”

Yunjin shifted slightly, but didn’t look away.

“I kept telling myself you were busy. That I shouldn’t make it harder for you,” he added. “But looking back, I think I just didn’t know how to show up properly.”

His grip tightened slightly around the glass before relaxing again. “I thought I was doing the right thing by staying out of your way,” he said. “I didn’t realize that meant… leaving you without anything to hold onto. I was wrong on my part for not trying enough and letting what was dealing with me stop me from not keeping us alive.”

Another pause. “I’m not trying to make excuses,” he added quickly, shaking his head a little. “I just—” He exhaled. “I should’ve talked to you even if I didn’t have the right words.”

He finally looked at her then.

“I’m sorry, Yunjin.”

Yunjin didn’t respond right away. She sat there, trying to take in everything he had just said.

It wasn’t something she ever thought he was dealing with back then not in a way she could clearly name, at least. But as she sat with it now, small things started to come back. The way he’d linger in front of mirrors a little longer than usual. How he’d mumble things under his breath, only to brush it off when she asked. The times he’d say he was fine so quickly it didn’t leave room to question it.

Back then, she didn’t think much of it.

Now, it felt different. It didn’t all come together perfectly but it was enough.

Her expression softened, something quieter settling in her gaze. “I’m sorry you went through that,” she said gently.

“And… I’m sorry, too,” she added, glancing down for a second before looking back at him. “I think I created distance between us as well.”

Her tone wasn’t heavy with guilt, just honesty. “I was so focused on everything at the time… my one chance to debut, the show, all of it,” she continued. “I didn’t realize how much space was building between us until it was already there.”

She let out a small breath.

“I don’t think I handled it well either.”

There was a moment of silence.

Hyunsoo looked down at his drink, thumb tracing lightly along the edge of the cup before he finally took a sip. He didn’t rush to fill the space between them. When he spoke, his voice was steady but softer than before.

“Don’t,” he said first. “You don’t need to apologize.”

He glanced at her briefly, then back down. “You had a dream you were chasing,” he continued. “And I had mine too. I think… we were both just trying to keep up with everything at the time.”

A faint exhale left him, like he was trying to organize thoughts he’d had for years. “It wasn’t something you did alone,” he added. “It just… became what it became.”

Yunjin stayed quiet, listening.

Hyunsoo shifted slightly in his seat, fingers loosening around the cup. “And I didn’t say all this to make you feel bad,” he said quickly, like he didn’t want her to misunderstand. “I just didn’t want you walking around thinking I didn’t care enough to try.”

That made him pause because that wasn’t true.

“I did care,” he said more quietly. “Probably more than I knew how to show at the time.”

A small, almost self-deprecating breath left him. “I just didn’t handle it well.”

His eyes flicked toward her again, steadier now. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… I don’t want you thinking it ended because you did something wrong.”

“I have enough of that for both of us already.”

That last part came out quieter, more honest. Yunjin looked at him for a moment, absorbing it all.

Then she spoke gently. “…You always do that,” she said.

Hyunsoo blinked slightly. “Do what?”

“Take everything on yourself.”

It wasn’t accusatory, just observant. He let out a small breath through his nose, almost a laugh, but not quite. “I’m not trying to,” he said. “It just kind of happens.”

Yunjin leaned back slightly, processing him the same way she always used to, like she was trying to understand what wasn’t being said directly.  “I don’t think it’s as simple as that,” she said quietly. “But… I get what you mean.”

“I didn’t think you stopped caring.”

That made him still for a second.

Hyunsoo didn’t respond right away. His gaze dropped to the table again, like he was weighing whether to accept that or reject it out of habit. “…Yeah,” he said finally, barely above a murmur. “I know.”

Another pause settled between them, it was heavy with things neither of them fully knew how to finish saying and for the first time since he started talking, Hyunsoo didn’t try to fix it.

He just stayed there.

Yunjin didn't respond right away but she knew she felt that after 8 years, everything was cleared up. Or so she thought. For some reason, her impulses were acting up again. Seriously? Over this man? She just looked at him, really looked at him and there was this feeling of lightness around her the more she looked at him. Then, what would go against her better judgment and should've stopped her impulses long ago, she got closer to him. Close enough like she was about to kiss him, asking him without saying it.

Hyunsoo immediately caught on with what she was trying to do and went in gently, giving her the option to back out if she didn't want to. Then, when Yunjin got even closer, he did too until their lips touched each other. There was that lightweighted feeling once they touched lips, light like a feather, soft like a pillow and sweet like candy. It was perfect, it was exactly like 8 years ago. Those seconds long kiss felt like hours before they both instinctively pulled away. Then, suddenly, they said at the same time

“Let's continue at the bedroom”

They both got surprised that they thought the same thing. So they both nodded and he went straight to his bedroom with her following him from behind that led to trip and fall in his bed. After that, the rest of the night was something they would definitely remember.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Yunjin woke up the next morning to unfamiliar surroundings. For a second, she just stared at the ceiling, disoriented, before it all came rushing back.

Right… she didn’t go back to the dorm.

That alone was enough to make her sit up. Her hand immediately reached for her phone on the bedside table, and as soon as the screen lit up, her expression dropped.

Missed calls and messages. A lot of them. From the members, from her manager.

Yeah, she was definitely going to hear about this later. Yunjin let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through her hair.

She really let herself get carried away, out of everything she could’ve done last night, she ended up staying here, of all places, with him.

And now, she had to deal with the effects of that decision. Still staring at her phone, she quickly typed into the group chat, apologizing for not coming back and saying she ended up staying at a hotel instead. That wasn't even a convincable lie but there was no way she was going to explain this, not to them.

She already knew what they’d say. That it was a bad idea which it was. She knew that.

And yet, here she was.

She locked her phone and set it aside. Only then did she start gathering her clothes, which were scattered around the room in a way that made her pause for half a second before she forced herself to just pick them up and put them on.

No overthinking, not right now.

Once she was dressed, she glanced at the other side of the bed, there was nobody there. She swore she remembered being next to him last night. For a brief moment, something in her chest tightened. Then, she heard a faint sound coming from outside the room followed by the unmistakable smell of food.

Yunjin blinked, then let out a small breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She pushed herself off the bed and made her way out of the room, following the sound toward the kitchen.

And he was there standing on the stove, frying something followed by the sound of oil and meat.

“You’re awake,” Hyunsoo said, glancing over his shoulder. “You should eat. It’s on the table.”

Yunjin leaned slightly against the doorframe for a second, taking in the scene before walking over. She sat down, eyes landing on the food. There was eggs, bacon, and rice. It was simple but more than she expected.

“…You made all this?” she said, a small, almost amused smile tugging at her lips. “For someone who wasn’t even supposed to stay over?” There was a lightness to her teasing tone.

Hyunsoo shrugged a little from where he stood. “You were here anyway.”

“I guess I was,” she muttered under her breath, almost to herself. She picked up the chopsticks, glancing at him again.

“I’ll join you in a bit,” he added. “Just finishing this.”

Yunjin nodded, then looked back at the plate in front of her. “…It smells good, by the way,” she said casually, like she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it but she still meant it.

Then, she said in a little softer, more genuine tone this time,

“Thanks.”

Hyunsoo  nodded as he walked over and pulled out the chair across from her and sat down, finally joining her at the table. He picked up his chopstick and started to eat. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Yunjin took a bite first, glancing up at him briefly before setting her fork down. “So…” she started. “Last night.”

Hyunsoo didn’t freeze this time. He chewed, swallowed, then looked at her. “Yeah,” he said simply. “Didn’t expect it to go that way.”

He paused, “But I don’t regret it.”

That made her blink not because of what he said but how easily he said it.

She looked down for a second, lips pressing together like she was holding back a reaction. “…Okay,” she said, a little quieter than before.

He didn’t push further. Just took another bite, giving the moment space instead of filling it.

After a second, he added, “I just don’t want things to get weird between us.” It sounded like just something he was putting out there.

Yunjin leaned back slightly in her seat, studying him. “Weird?” she echoed. “It’s already kind of weird, Hyunsoo.” There was a hint of humor in it, softening the words.

He let out a quiet breath, almost a small laugh. “Fair,” he admitted.

Then she added, “But… we’re okay.”

He nodded once, like that was enough. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s all I was hoping for.”

The conversation settled after that.

Then, her phone buzzed. She glanced down, and her expression immediately shifted.

“Your members?” he asked, already knowing.

“Yeah,” she sighed, typing quickly. “I think they’re about to report me missing.”

“That bad?”

“You have no idea.”

He huffed a quiet laugh at that, then wiped his hands with a napkin before speaking again. “I’ll take you.”

She looked up. “What?”

“I’ll drive you to your workplace,” he said, like it was obvious.

Yunjin raised a brow immediately. “Hyunsoo, you don’t have to—”

“I’m heading out anyway,” he said, not cutting her off harshly—just steady. “I'm dropping Lola off to daycare and then I have rehearsal.”

As if on cue, the dog lifted her head from her bowl at the sound of her name before going back to eating. He nodded toward her. “She’s got a schedule too.”

Yunjin glanced at the dog, then back at him. “I can just call a taxi,” she said. “It’s fine.”

He met her gaze this time. “It’s not a problem. Let me.” There wasn't any pressure in it but he was volunteering.

Yunjin held his gaze for a second, like she was trying to read if this was him overdoing it or just being himself. “…You’re really not going to drop it, are you?” she said.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “No.”

She exhaled, shaking her head slightly but there was a hint of a smile there too. “Fine,” she said. “But this doesn’t become a habit.”

“Didn’t plan on it,” he replied.

That earned him a look.

“…You’re annoying,” she muttered.

“You’re still getting a ride.”

She tried to hold it in but a small laugh slipped out anyway.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

After they finished breakfast, they headed out of his apartment.

Hyunsoo locked the door behind them, Lola already by his side on her leash, tail lightly swaying as they made their way down the stairs and out toward the parking lot.

The morning air was cooler than expected. He clicked his keys, and a red SUV blinked to life a few spaces ahead.

Yunjin followed as he walked toward it, watching as he opened the passenger side door first.

“Up,” he said lightly.

Lola hopped in without hesitation, settling into the seat where her toys were already laid out. He adjusted one of them absentmindedly before closing the door.

Then he walked around to the other side and opened the front passenger door for Yunjin. She paused for half a second, just enough to notice, before getting in.

“Thanks,” she said, a little quieter than before.

He gave a small nod, closing the door behind her before heading to the driver’s side. Once inside, he started the engine, the low hum filling the space as he settled his hands on the wheel.

“The HYBE building, right?” he asked, glancing at her briefly.

Yunjin nodded. “Yeah.”

He tapped through the screen, pulling up directions on the maps, and entered the destination. A moment later, the route loaded. He shifted the car into gear and pulled out of the lot, following the directions as the city slowly came to life around them.

Inside the car, it was quiet again, not awkward just… something neither of them had quite figured out yet.

“So what?” Yunjin glanced at him from the passenger seat, one brow raised teasingly. “You trying to be a gentleman now?”

Hyunsoo kept his eyes on the road, one hand resting loosely against the steering wheel.

“If that’s what you want to call it, then sure,” he said calmly. “I just think it’s basic decency.”

Yunjin let out a quiet laugh, leaning back into her seat. “I don’t think opening car doors for people counts as basic decency.”

“It does.”

“No, it doesn’t. Most people don’t even do that anymore.”

“Then maybe people should start doing it again.”

She glanced at him for a second after that, trying to figure out if he was being serious or not. The annoying part was, he sounded completely genuine.

Yunjin shook her head slightly, smiling to herself. “Wow. Look at you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted with a small shrug. “You just feel… different now.”

That made him glance at her briefly before looking back at the road. “Different good or different bad?”

“Mmm.” She pretended to think about it dramatically. “Undecided.”

“That sounds promising.”

She laughed again, the sound lighter this time. “No, but seriously,” she added after a moment. “You didn’t used to do stuff like that.”

“I also used to be 17.”

“Fair point.”

A small silence settled between them again, comfortable enough that neither of them rushed to fill it. Then Hyunsoo spoke again, quieter this time.

“I don’t know,” he said with a slight shrug. “I think when you get older, you realize it doesn’t take much effort to make things easier for people.”

Yunjin looked at him for a moment. There it was again, that groundedness he had now.

“You got wise all of a sudden,” she teased lightly.

“Don’t say that,” he deadpanned. “You’re making me sound old.”

“You are old.”

“We’re literally the same age. I'm just 7 months older than you.”

“Exactly,” she nodded seriously. “Ancient.”

That finally got an actual laugh out of him. And somehow, hearing it made her smile a little more than it should have.

Then, as they were still talking, the screen then popped up some notifications from what looked like a group chat and then followed by a call coming from the screen, he immediately took it and answered.

“Oh my God, it’s the man of the hour,” a sarcastic voice rang through the speakers.

“Hyunsoo finally decided to join us. Thought you were gonna ignore the call too.”

“Guys, I'm driving.”

“Anyway,” another voice cut in immediately, “I’m on the way to the studio right now. Is anyone bringing food?”

“You mean you still haven’t bought lunch yet, Jinwoo?”

“…No?”

“Bro, what?” someone groaned dramatically. “I skipped breakfast for this. My stomach’s gonna be empty the entire rehearsal.”

“I think Hyunsoo should buy us McDonald’s.”

“Right? I agree.”

“I second that.”

Hyunsoo glanced at the screen briefly before looking back at the road. “Absolutely not. I bought food last time.”

“You’re the one with the car though,” another voice argued. “Can’t you just pull into a drive-thru?”

“You have a car too, Yongsun,” Hyunsoo replied immediately. “I literally saw you at the stoplight earlier. You go buy it.”

“Hyunsoo,” Yongsun sighed dramatically, “I smell like soju right now. I don’t think the drive-thru worker wants that experience.”

“That sounds like a you problem.”

Yunjin had to bite back a laugh beside him.

“See? Even your passenger thinks I’m right.”

Hyunsoo’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Nobody asked you.”

“Wait,” another voice suddenly cut in. “Passenger?”

A brief silence followed.

Then—

“Oh?”

“Oh, hold on.”

“No wonder he ignored us all morning.”

“Hyunsoo—”

Before the chaos could escalate any further, he quietly pressed the button on the steering wheel and ended the call entirely. The car immediately fell silent.

Yunjin stared at him for a second before laughing. “You just hung up on them?”

“They were getting annoying,” he said flatly, though there was the faintest hint of amusement in his voice.

Then, before she could reply, the car slowly came to a stop.

Yunjin was about to ask why until she looked out the window and saw the HYBE Headquarters building right in front of her.

She blinked once before looking back at him.

“…That was fast.”

Hyunsoo glanced out at the road ahead before giving a small shrug. “I’m surprised too. There’s usually traffic around here.”

Yunjin let out a quiet hum, but the moment she looked back toward the building, reality settled in again, she was gonna handle managers, schedules, her members and everything in between and the fact that she definitely promised she’d come back to the dorm right after dinner only to completely disappear for the night.

Yeah, she was about to get interrogated the second she walked in. Still, despite that, she looked back at him again.

“…Thanks for this morning, though,” she said. “Breakfast, the ride… all of it. You didn't have to.”

Hyunsoo shook his head lightly, like it wasn’t something she needed to thank him for. “It’s fine.”

Yunjin finally reached for her seatbelt and unclipped it. “Well,” she sighed dramatically, “if I survive today, it was nice knowing you.”

“Really?”

“You have no idea.”

A faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

She opened the door and stepped out of the car, adjusting her bag over her shoulder before staring toward the building. Then, a soft beep came from behind her.

Yunjin turned instinctively. Hyunsoo had rolled the window down slightly. “If you need a ride again,” he said, resting one arm against the wheel, “let me know.”

The words were casual, too casual for how they landed in her chest. Yunjin stared at him for half a second before a small smile slowly appeared on her face. “…You say that like this is gonna become a regular thing.”

“Didn’t say that.”

“Mhm.”

“Just offering.”

She shook her head lightly, still smiling to herself. “Bye, Hyunsoo.”

“See you around, Jen.”

And somehow, hearing that felt a little different this time. Yunjin watched the car for a second longer as it finally pulled away before turning and heading toward the entrance of the HYBE Headquarters building. As she stepped inside, her mind replayed the last thing he said.

Jen.

She slowed slightly. She hadn’t heard him call her that since before they separated or maybe she just misheard it.

Yunjin quickly shook the thought away and pulled out her phone, sending a quick message to the group chat that she had already arrived before stepping into the elevator and pressing the floor for the practice room.

The moment the doors closed, reality started settling back in again.

She already knew what was waiting for her upstairs, questions, suspicious looks, probably a lecture from the members about disappearing overnight without properly updating anyone. Normally, that would’ve stressed her out more but strangely, it was the least of her worries right now. Because for the first time in years, things between her and Hyunsoo no longer felt unfinished. The air between them had finally cleared, no more careful conversations or pretending there wasn’t something unresolved sitting underneath everything.

As the elevator slowly went up, Yunjin leaned back against the wall and let out a quiet breath.

Maybe seeing him again last night really was a bad idea.

winter x male! oc word count: 9191 words part of the series: driveway saints synopsis: while on a solo late night drive around seoul before she heads for work the next morning, winter reflects and reminisces about a certain bassist she had a thing with almost a year ago tw: all certain works around this series does not reflect winter's or any other aespa members' real life characters. everything else is fictional such as the original characters and the band his circle revolves around

It was late in Seoul, the moon hung stubbornly in the sky despite the city lights that tried to drown it out.

Winter should’ve been back at the dorms with the others by now, with lights off and alarms set for the schedules the next day, but instead, she found herself behind the wheel, driving with no real destination in mind.

Maybe she just needed air or even silence. She wasn’t sure.

The day had been exhausting with endless schedules, cameras, and voices that constantly needed her but sleep refused to come. So she left the dorms without an explanation she herself couldn't think of. The only thing she had was just the quiet hum of the engine and the empty stretch of road ahead.

Streetlights passed in a steady rhythm, casting fleeting shadows across her face. The city blurred into something softer, ethereal in a way it never was during the day.

Still, even with the road open and the night calm, her mind refused to follow.

Something lingered.

And no matter how far she drove, it stayed.

She knew it was probably nothing, just her thoughts creeping in again whenever it was too quiet to have a lot in mind, so she reached for the radio.

Music spilled into the car, which was enough to break the silence. She let it play as she drove, barely paying attention until the song changed without warning.

It sounded familiar, not in a way she could place, just something she felt more than recognized. She swore she heard it somewhere before but she couldn’t tell.

Then the bass came in, pressing faintly through the steering wheel beneath her hands that made her grip tighten.

A second later, her other hand lifted, tapping lightly against the dashboard, once, twice, keeping time without thinking.

She stopped.

That wasn’t her habit… It was his.

The realization came quietly, but it hit all at once, pulling her back before she could stop it.

And just like that, the memory took over.

Not the car, not the quiet road but back to Akaraka, the night she met him.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Winter had just finished their set at Akaraka, well, more like the entire show had wrapped, since they were the headliners.

Her body felt heavier than she expected, the kind of exhaustion that didn’t fully register until everything went quiet. She should’ve already been backstage with the other members, moving through the usual post-stage routine.

But instead, she found herself lingering.

They still had a few minutes before leaving, just enough time to breathe before the next thing to do on the agenda so she decided to slip away.

The backstage exit led her to a loading dock, tucked away from the noise of the crowd still fading beyond the venue walls. She almost turned back, realizing where she’d ended up.

But then, a raspy voice cut through the quiet.

“Yo, wanna do the honors?”

She paused.

Turning slightly, she saw a man leaning casually against the wall, a cigarette resting between his lips and a lighter turning over lazily in his hand. He flicked it once, twice, like he wasn’t in any particular hurry for it to work.

He looked around her age, maybe a little older. Not polished in a way an idol like her is, she wasn't used to seeing a man with that kind of energy. There was something unpolished about him, effortless in a way that stood out more because of where they were.

Bleached-blond curls framed his face, he had a worn denim jacket hung loosely over his frame even though he only wore one sleeve and ink traced along his left arm, collarbones, and even very few on both of his hands.

This man felt completely different from the world she usually moved in and for some reason, she couldn’t look away.

She didn’t realize how long she’d been staring until his voice pulled her back.

“Hello?” the man said with a faint edge of amusement in it. “You gonna keep staring, or…?”

Winter snapped back to reality at his voice, her eyes dropping to what he was actually doing.

The cigarette was still between his lips. The lighter kept flicking, again, no flame caught. He didn’t look frustrated. If anything, he looked mildly entertained by the situation, like it was something that happened to him often enough not to matter.

“I don’t smoke,” she said flatly, almost automatically.

He huffed a quiet laugh through his nose, still trying the lighter. “I didn’t say you had to smoke.”

Then, with a faint tilt of his head, he added, “Or what? You’re too righteous to help a stranger with his bad habit, so you refuse to light his cigarette?”

His tone wasn’t accusatory, more teasing, like he was poking at an idea just to see how she’d react.

The lighter clicked again, still nothing.

He exhaled, then shrugged slightly, shifting his weight off the wall.

“Fair enough,” he said lightly. “Your choice.”

There was no offense in his voice. No insistence either, just acceptance, like he’d already moved on before the conversation even finished.

He tapped the cigarette once with his fingers.

“Guess I’ll go ask someone else then.”

He straightened a little, already half-turning away from her, like she was just another person in a long line of people who said no and moved on. The man glanced around, already searching for someone else.

Winter watched him.

She should’ve just left and gone back inside, pretending this never happened.

But for some reason, she didn’t move and before she could think better of it—

“Wait.”

The word slipped out, quiet but enough to stop him.

He paused, glancing over his shoulder, one brow lifting slightly.

Winter hesitated for a second, then gestured faintly toward the lighter in his hand.

“…It’s probably just the wind,” she said. “I can try.”

This made the man turn fully, walking back toward her, this time with a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

“Be my guest.”

He handed her the lighter.

Winter took it carefully, her fingers brushing against his for the briefest moment. She ignored it, focusing instead on the lighter as she flicked it.

Then, a flame finally caught.

She stopped for a split second, the sudden warmth closer than she expected. Not enough to pull away, just enough to notice.

Without saying anything, she lifted the lighter slightly, bringing the flame closer.

He leaned in, closer than she anticipated.

Her breath hitched, barely noticeable, but her grip tightened as she held the flame steady, letting it catch at the tip of his cigarette making it lit.

She pulled the lighter away almost immediately, extinguishing the flame a second later, her movements just a little quicker than before.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then he let out a quiet chuckle, taking the lighter back from her.

“Hey,” he said, exhaling lightly, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You reacted like it was your first time seeing fire.”

He clicked the lighter shut, slipping it back into his pocket.

“But that was smooth,” he added, glancing at her. “Especially for someone who doesn’t smoke.”

She was about to respond when her phone buzzed in her hand.

There was a message from her manager.

Where are you?

Winter stared at the screen for a second. Normally, she would’ve replied immediately, apologized even, telling them she was on her way back.

But she didn’t.

Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. If she answered, she’d have to go back and for some reason, she didn’t want to. Not yet.

“Let me guess,” he said, glancing at her phone. “Manager?”

Her head lifted slightly. “How did you—”

He gave a small shrug, taking another drag from his cigarette.

“You’re Winter,” he said like it was obvious. “Kinda hard not to know.”

There was no awe or hesitation in his voice, just a simple statement.

“My sister’s obsessed with aespa,” he added, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Plays your songs on repeat and I have to hear them whether I want to or not.”

Winter blinked, a little caught off guard by how casually he said it.

He exhaled, leaning back against the wall again.

“Managers get like that,” he went on. “Mine’s the same, he calls every five minutes if I’m out of sight and acts like I’m about to disappear or something. I mean I do but, yeah.”

He glances at her, a little teasing.

“Guess they mean well.”

He tapped ash off to the side before adding,

“But still… kinda annoying.”

Another beat passed, quieter this time.

Then, almost like an afterthought, he said, “So what, you heading back?”

Winter looked down at her phone again.

The message was still there, waiting and then, she locked the screen.

“…Not yet,” she said softly.

“Well,” he said, taking another drag from his cigarette, “guess we’ll just stay here until our managers come looking for us.”

Winter blinked.

Manager?

The word lingered for a second longer than it should’ve.

Her gaze lifted back to him, sharper this time.

Wait…

“Are you a—”

“An artist?” he cut in, like he already knew what she was about to ask. He gave a small shrug. “You could say that.”

That was when it clicked. He kept mentioning about a manager since he saw her texting her own and then, she remembered the stage earlier.

The noise, the energy.

One of the opening acts, there were four guys, not an idol group, but a band. She hadn’t seen much from backstage, just glimpses between movements and fragments of sound bleeding through the speakers.

But she remembered them.

They were loud, unapologetically so. The kind of sound that should’ve been overwhelming, messy even. The kind you’d expect to hear from some garage down a random street, bleeding into the night whether you wanted it or not.

And yet, people stayed and listened. They got pulled in by these guys’ energy for thirty minutes before they had to end it.

She remembered the crowd reacting louder than expected, more alive than usual for an opening act like they were the headliners.

Her eyes settled back on him.

That same bleached curls, that denim jacket and black jeans, that same unbothered presence.

He was there.

On that stage.

“You performed…”

He let out a short laugh, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Wow. Winter of aespa watched our set? I’m honored.”

There was a hint of teasing in his tone but beneath it, his cheeks flushed, just barely.

“Glad you liked it,” he added, scratching lightly at the back of his neck. “Even if it’s probably not your thing.”

Winter didn’t answer right away.

He wasn’t wrong.

It wasn’t the kind of music she usually listened to, nothing like what filled her playlists or what she performed on stage. His sound was louder, rougher around the edges, less controlled. Grungy, almost. The kind of music that didn’t try to be perfect, just real. The instruments hit harder, the vocals a little raw, like they weren’t meant to be cleaned up.

It reminded her of something older, too, like the bands she’d heard from the 2010s, the kind that felt messy in a way that worked.

Different from her world.

And yet, she remembered it. Then it clicked.

The set she had just heard earlier wasn’t unfamiliar after all, just not her cup of tea. A handful of songs she’d caught in passing before, never enough to truly place, never enough to connect to anything specific. She had never really looked into them, just heard fragments of sound she’d heard in passing, drifting through playlists and staff rooms.

But now…

That name surfaced.

“Driveway Saints?”

His brows lifted slightly, like he hadn’t expected her to say it first. Then a small, knowing smile tugged at his lips.

“Oh?” he said. “So you have heard of us.”

He leaned back against the wall again, still casual, but there was a faint shift in his tone, like amusement mixed with mild surprise.

“I could go on,” he continued, tapping ash away from his cigarette, “but I’m pretty sure that would either bore you to death or make it sound like I’m trying to sell you something.”

He gave out a half-shrug, “Not that I’d mind,” he added lightly. “But you probably didn’t come outside tonight to get a full marketing pitch from a guy smoking in a loading dock.”

That earned a quiet beat of silence between them.

He glanced at her again, then decided to keep it simple.

“To keep things simple, I’m the bassist,” he said. “That’s it.”

There was a brief silence between them.

This guy…

“What? Now that I said I’m the bassist, you’re about to tell me you can’t hear the bass, aren’t you?”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. Did he really just assume that?

“…Do people usually say that to you?” she asked instead.

He gave a small shrug, unbothered, “Most of the time,” he said. “Doesn’t really bother me, though. I just think it’s funny.”

A faint exhale of smoke left him as he glanced away for a second, like he’d said it too many times to care anymore.

“People don’t really notice it,” he added. “But if you take it out, everything feels off. Like… it’s the thing holding it together.”

He tilted his head slightly, searching for a better comparison.

“It’s like taking the salt out of the wings,” he said finally, a faint smirk returning. “You don’t always taste it, but you know when it’s missing.”

“I think I noticed it earlier,” she said quietly. “During your set. Especially in a lot of the songs… it didn’t feel empty.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything.

Like he wasn’t expecting that answer.

Then he let out a small breath, glancing away as he ran a hand through his hair.

“…Yeah?” he muttered, almost more to himself than to her.

The corner of his mouth lifted faintly before he shook his head.

“Eh,” he said after a beat, tone shifting back to something lighter, “I don’t really like talking about music too much.”

He took another drag, exhaling slowly.

“Got too much of it in my head already.” And then he smirked, “You always this nice to random guys smoking in loading docks?”

Winter blinked, a little caught off guard, before shaking her head. “…No. Not really.”

“Good,” he said easily. “Would’ve ruined the moment.”

The words settled between them, it felt light, but not entirely a joke and then it went quiet.

They looked at each other, and for a second, everything else seemed to turn into a blur: the distant noise, the fading crowd, even the space around them.

He dropped his cigarette, pressing it out with the sole of his shoe without breaking eye contact, then he stepped closer. Not all the way, just enough to close the distance, leaving a small space between them.

“Can I?” he asked, softer this time.

Winter’s breath caught. She knew what he meant. She didn’t answer but she didn’t step back either.

And somehow, that was enough.

She moved first, just slightly but enough to meet him halfway. For a moment, it felt inevitable and just as their lips were about to meet—

“Yongsun!”

They both pulled back instinctively.

He turned toward the voice, the moment breaking as quickly as it had formed.

“Where were you, man?” someone called out, walking toward them. “Manager-nim’s been looking for you. Don’t tell me you turned your phone off again, you’re seriously gonna get an earful from him.”

Winter didn’t wait. The second the footsteps got closer, she stepped back, already turning away. She knew it was her cue to leave but just before she left, she glanced back.

Their eyes met one last time.

And then she was gone, slipping out of the loading dock and back into a world that suddenly felt a little too loud again.

Yongsun…

So that was his name.

And just like that, the moment Woo Yongsun entered the picture, her world turned upside down.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

“Have you heard of Driveway Saints?” Winter suddenly asked.

The question slipped out the moment they were back in the van, cutting through the chatter as they head back to the dorms after their performance in Akaraka.

The conversation stopped and three pairs of eyes turned to her.

Karina raised a brow, already suspicious. “…The band that performed earlier?” she said slowly. “You don’t just ask things like that out of nowhere, Minjeong.”

From beside her, Giselle let out a small laugh, “Driveway Saints?” she repeated. “Since when do you listen to them? That’s more my thing, well, mine and Ning’s.”

She assumed this was what she thinks it is so she leans forward slightly, eyes narrowing with interest. “Wait… who did you meet?”

Ningning immediately perked up, turning fully toward her. “Yeah,” she added, grinning, “you definitely met someone after going out for ‘fresh air.’”

Winter felt the heat rise to her cheeks almost instantly.

She looked away a little too quickly.

“…No one,” she said, trying to sound casual. “I was just asking.”

The three of them didn’t look convinced.

Giselle leaned forward immediately, eyes lighting up. “Come on, Minjeong,” she said, already grinning. “You can’t just drop that and not explain.”

Ningning turned in her seat too, just as invested, “Yeah,” she added, nudging her lightly. “Where are the details?”

Winter opened her mouth, then closed it again, she already expected her members to act like this but she still mentioned it anyway.

Karina watched the whole exchange before letting out a small sigh, though there was a hint of a smile on her face.

“Guys,” she said, glancing between them, “you’re not gonna get anything if you keep ganging up on her like that.”

“Let her talk when she’s ready,” she adds.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

“You want some?” Yongsun asked, holding out a strawberry candy between his fingers.

It was outside the venue now, far enough from the noise of the after-party, tucked into a quieter alley where the city lights felt distant. Aespa had an after party to attend which did have something to do with some event that they went to and for some reason, Driveway Saints were in that same after party, at least barely.

Still in her event outfit, Winter paused, slightly out of place in the silence.

She glanced at the candy in his hand. “…You carry candy around?”

“Sometimes,” he said with a shrug. “Fans give them to me and I keep them for when I get bored and can’t…y’know….” He lifted his cigarette slightly, the ember glowing faintly before he took a slow drag. Smoke curled up into the air between them.

Winter’s gaze lingered on the contrast then drifted back to the candy.

He noticed, “What?” he asked lightly. “You think I’d just leave you standing here with nothing?”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips, “I’d offer you one of these,” he added, tilting the cigarette slightly, “but I already know you don’t smoke.”

“Anyway, you don’t have to take it if you don’t want. Means more for me later,” he shrugged

She looked at the candy one last time and nodded. “Okay.”

Carefully, she took the candy from his hand and unwrapped it, the crinkle of plastic small against the quiet of the alley.

He watched her for a second before letting out a breath, like he’d been holding in more energy than he knew what to do with.

“Thank God you’re here,” he said, rolling his shoulders slightly. “Winter? Or Minjeong?”

“…Any is fine.”

“Okay then, Minjeong it is.” He nodded like it was settled. “Thank God you’re here. This suit is seriously itchy. Can you believe this thing cost like a million won?”

He tugged lightly at his collar, exhaling through his nose, “To be honest… that whole thing was kind of boring.”

Yongsun then gave a half-smirk like he was aware of how that sounded, “I mean, I can talk to people just fine,” he continued, “but it’s just… I don’t know. I could’ve been at one of my friends’ frat parties by now.”

He shrugged. “Only reason I’m still around is the guys from the band, I can’t just ditch them.” His tone softened slightly. “I’d feel bad, they’re just as nervous if not, as bored as me when we end up in places like these.”

A faint grin returned, a little less sharp than before. “And I’ve been with them since middle school, it’d be terrible to just go to one of the frat houses in the nearby universities with them still here… I love those idiots to death, though.”

Winter just watched him as he kept talking about how understimulating the after party was. In a way, she understood it, though for her, it felt less like boredom and more like exhaustion.

Still, she didn’t say anything.

She just looked at him.

And slowly, the noise of the city faded out until it felt like it was just him.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Winter drove through the city again, the same quiet roads stretching out under dim streetlights. She slowed to a stop at a red light, the glow reflecting faintly across the windshield.

Her eyes drifted to the passenger seat.

A small plastic bag sat there with candies she had bought the other day. She hadn’t touched them, she didn’t even remember buying them, just that they ended up there somehow. After a moment, she reached over, pulling one out and unwrapping it absentmindedly.

She placed it in her mouth, it tasted like strawberries.

She paused.

And just like that, her thoughts slipped back to him once again.

The late nights and random conversations that never stayed on one topic for long. The faint smell of smoke lingering in the air as he lit another cigarette, always paired with the quiet rustle of wrappers as he handed her one of his strawberry candies.

She had asked him once, “Why strawberries?”

He didn’t think about it too hard when he answered. He said it was just a thing with their fans, some association that stuck over time. Something about an old username, an inside joke that never really left. Apparently, he used to show up in pictures with strawberries all the time when he was younger and that eventually led to his old Instagram handle before he had to change it.

That was it.

Nothing deep, nothing meaningful and yet, the taste lingered longer than it should have.

Before she knew it, her attention caught on someone crossing the street.

A denim jacket, black jeans, and blonde curls.

For a split second, her breath hitched except it wasn’t him.

Her grip tightened slightly on the wheel.

She didn’t understand why she kept thinking about him like this. An old flame, if she could even call it that. A situationship, maybe or whatever the entire thing was. It had been short, fleeting… and yet, it never really left. She still didn’t know what they were to this day, only that it was more than nothing.

The light turned green. Cars behind her started moving, and she followed, easing her foot back onto the gas but her mind was already somewhere else again, pulled back without permission back to the same man.

More specifically, to the one time she went to a Driveway Saints show in Hongdae, out of nothing but curiosity that soon enough escalated to somewhere else.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Minjeong,” Yongsun said, standing beside her as the lights in the hall dimmed.

The crowd had already cleared out. Only a few staff remained, moving between rows, cleaning up. Somewhere deeper backstage, the rest of the band was still getting ready to leave.

Winter had been on her way out with everyone else until he stopped her.

“…Me neither,” she admitted. “I just… wanted to see what your performance was like.”

“So I came,” she gave a small shrug.

“Really?” He glanced around the venue, then back at her with a crooked smile. “Figured a place like this would be a little small for you.”

There was no bite to it, “You could’ve told me, though,” he added. “I would’ve gotten you in… So, how was it?”

Winter looked away, the faintest heat rising to her cheeks.

“It was fine,” she said quietly.

Then, she remembered…

“That song earlier…” she started, eyes still not quite meeting his. “The one you played near the end.”

He hummed, already knowing what she was about to say.

“That wasn’t part of the setlist, was it?”

Yongsun let out a short breath, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, no. That was all Gyumin,” he said. “He changed it on the spot.”

A small shake of his head, half-amused, half-exasperated. “I swear, one day—”

He stopped himself, glancing back at her.

“What about it?”

Winter hesitated.

“That song…”

He watched her for a second longer then huffed out a quiet laugh, like he’d already connected the dots.

“Alright, alright,” he cut in. “I know where this is going.”

“Yeah. I wrote it.”

Winter’s breath hitched at the weight of what he’d just dropped.

She had already suspected it earlier when the unreleased song played, something about it felt too him. Too unpolished and familiar in a way she couldn’t explain yet but hearing him saying it out loud made it different.

“…About?” she asked anyway.

Yongsun only shrugged, “You’re smart, Minjeong,” he said. “I think you can figure it out.”

That didn’t make it easier. If anything, it made everything confusing in her head. Then, the pieces clicked into place a little too quickly, the lyrics, the timing, the way he had looked at her earlier like he already knew she would notice.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again.

A pause stretched between them.

Instead of following the thought she should have said, she found herself asking something else entirely.

“…Do you ever think about what happens next?”

Yongsun blinked, the shift catching him off guard for the first time that night. “Wow, you switch topics fast,” he muttered, a faint exhale leaving him like a half-laugh. “Thought you were gonna call me out for that.”

His hands slipped into his pockets. Then, “I don’t really plan that far,” he said. “If it’s meant to happen, it happens.”

“You just wait it out,” he shrugs.

His gaze drifted toward the emergency exit at the far end of the hall, like the conversation itself had weight he didn’t want to sit with too long.

“Speaking of,” he added, his tone light again, “you wanna head out, Minjeong?”

Winter followed his gaze toward the emergency exit, a flicker of realization settling in.

“Yongsun… are you sure about this?” she asked, lowering her voice. “Don’t you and the band have to head back together?”

He let out a small breath, “Eh, the guys don’t really mind if we slip out after shows,” he shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “We just check in on our group chat. As long as our manager doesn’t catch me in the act, I’m good.”

“But—”

“It’s fine,” he cut in lightly. Then, glancing at her outfit, he added, “Hold on—”

He adjusted her hood slightly, pulling it forward just enough to shadow her face.

“Okay. You’re good. Let’s go.”

Before she could second guess it or protest anything, he pushed the door open and slipped out, fingers brushing her wrist as he pulled her along.

The cold night air hit immediately.

They stepped out into the streets of Hongdae, still alive despite the hour. There were neon lights, distant music, and people passing by without a second glance.

For him, it was nothing.

For her, it felt unfamiliar.

Free, in a way she wasn’t used to. No staff nearby, no one watching, no one expecting her and yet, at the same time, it felt almost too open, like she’d stepped out without something she was supposed to have.

“Where are we going?” Winter asked, her voice quieter now as she walked beside him.

“Wherever the city lights take us,” Yongsun said as they both spotted a passing cab.

He raised a hand and the cab slowed down, then pulled over right in front of them. Without hesitation, he opened the door and tilted his head toward her.

“After you.”

Winter hesitated only for a second before stepping inside. He followed after her, sliding in and shutting the door behind them.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

Yongsun leaned back slightly, glancing at Winter in the dim interior light. “You want me to take you back to your dorm, Minjeong?” he asked, like he already knew she might say no. 

Winter hesitated, the answer sitting somewhere between instinct and restraint.

She should go back to the dorms. She told the members and her manager that she’d just be in Hongdae to attend a show. Staying out any longer than that, especially this late, would raise questions. Morning schedules weren’t exactly forgiving either.

But at the same time… she didn’t want this to end. Not yet. Not when this was the first time in a while she felt this unmonitored, this free, even if it came with a strange kind of unease.

So instead, she said quietly, “Anywhere is fine.”

Yongsun glanced at her, brows lifting slightly. “Anywhere? You sure about that?”

Winter nodded, a little more certain this time.

“…Okay then,” he said, turning to the front. “Han River, please.”

The driver gave a short nod, and the cab started moving, the city lights slipping past the windows.

The ride was silent. Neither of them spoke but Winter’s mind kept moving faster than the city outside the window.

Was it really about her?

The lyrics had felt too specific to be just a coincidence but what did that even mean? What was he thinking when he wrote it? And if it was about her, didn’t that also mean other people could figure it out too?

Would his fans pick it apart? Did artists like him even get to have things that stayed private? He was a musician, sure, but still… anything tied to a song didn’t stay hidden for long.

And if it did connect back to her—

Her thoughts tightened.

Why was he like this? Did he do this with everyone? More importantly… why was she still here?

She should’ve really asked to go back to the dorms. She should’ve ended this the moment he tried to talk to her after the show. It had already gone far too long. It was only a matter of time before someone recognized her, or word got out, or something shifted in a way she couldn’t control.

And he wasn’t even her type. That was the problem.

That should’ve been enough.

But it wasn’t.

Because at the same time, his presence beside her felt disarmingly easy, like it didn’t require effort to exist in the same space. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

“Hey… you okay?”

Winter blinked, pulled back into the moment.

She turned slightly toward him. He was watching her now, his expression quieter than before, less teasing and more observant.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “Thanks.”

“You sure?”

She nodded.

“Okay then, it has gotten a bit awkward for a while so why don’t we get to know more about each other? Wanna play Two Truths and a Lie?” he offered, his fingers brushing lightly against hers, more a permission than a touch.

Winter blinked. “What?”

“You don’t have to,” he added, easy. “Just thought I’d distract you a bit.”

She hesitated, turning over her head but before she could answer, the cab slowed to a stop. She glanced out and realized they’d already reached the river.

Yongsun leaned forward, pulling out his wallet and paying the driver. “Thank you,” he said, before pushing the door open. He stepped out, then held it for her.

Winter followed, the night air hitting differently now.

“You deciding now?” he asked as they started walking along the path.

This time, she had space to think. No rush, no noise pressing in on her.

“…Okay,” she said finally.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “Great.”

He stopped by an empty bench and sat down, tilting his head toward the spot beside him. Winter took it, the distance between them just enough to feel intentional.

“Alright,” he said, settling back. “You go first.”

Winter took a moment to think through her three statements.

It wasn’t as easy as she thought it would be. The game required honesty, at least partially, and that wasn’t something she was used to giving so freely, not with the kind of life she lived. There was always a filter, always something holding her back but for some reason, Yongsun didn’t feel like someone she had to filter herself around. It felt like he was talking to her as Kim Minjeong, not just Winter of aespa and maybe that meant she could be a little more honest than usual.

“…Okay,” she said after a beat. “I overthink things more than people realize. I like walking alone at night when I can. And… I’ve never been scared of performing on stage.”

Yongsun let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “I’m good at this game, Minjeong. It’s the third one, ain’t it?”

Her brows lifted. “How’d you figure that out?”

“Trust me,” he said, leaning back against the bench. “Every artist has moments like that. It’s basically a canon event, even I have my moments,” He glanced at her briefly. “And I’m pretty sure you mentioned once that you used to be shy and scared of being seen.”

Winter blinked. “Wait… you remembered that?”

She had told him that, once, in passing, over text. She didn’t think he’d actually hold onto it.

Yongsun shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “If I can remember Hyunsoo’s long ice cream order, I can remember the things you say.”

“Guess it’s my turn, then,” he said, shifting slightly on the bench, settling into something more comfortable.

He glanced up for a second, putting on his thinking face. “Hmm… okay. I became the bassist because me and my friends wanted to figure out who the worst guitarist was and I won. When I was nine, I pushed my sister a little too hard while we were playing and she ended up losing a tooth.” He paused, just briefly. “And… I’ve seen myself the way other people see me.”

Winter blinked.

That was hard.

All of it sounded possible, annoyingly possible. Any of those three statements could fit as both truth and lie.

She found herself actually thinking about it, going through each one like there was a right way to solve him. The second one felt real, too specific to make up. It sounded like something that just happened, the classic sibling experience. Even she got similar moments like that with her brother. And the third—

She glanced at him.

It fits. He carried himself like someone who knew how he came across. He was the confident type, the type that got nothing under his skin. Someone who understood his own image.

Which made the first one…

She frowned slightly.

It didn’t sound right. Bassist and “worst guitarist” didn’t exactly go together. If anything, she’d heard the opposite, that bassists were usually just as good, sometimes even better than the guitarists of their band.

“…The first one?” she said.

Yongsun shook his head, a small grin forming. “Nope.”

He leaned back, clearly pleased with himself. “Knew you wouldn’t get it,” he added. “I like winning too much to make it easy.”

Winter let out a small breath, half amused, half annoyed. “Then what is it?”

He glanced at her, the grin softening just a little.

“The third one.”

…

“I haven’t,” he added, quieter this time. “Seen myself the way other people do.”

Winter stilled for a moment.

She hadn’t expected that from him. She knew those thoughts had lived in them more times than she could count but hearing it from him felt… different, like she’d just stepped into a side of him she didn’t know existed.

And strangely, she didn’t mind.

If anything, it made her want to understand him more.

“…How come?” she asked, softer this time.

Yongsun let out a quiet breath. “I guess…” He paused, then gave a small shake of his head. “Hold on, I don’t know if I have the words for it.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking.

“It’s just… I feel like I’ve been—” He stopped, starting over. “Like I’ve been simplified into one thing for a while.”

A short shrug.

“I mean, I’m not gonna deny it. I go out more than the guys. That part’s true.” A faint huff left him. “But it’s kind of the only thing people stick to.”

He glanced down, fingers tapping lightly against the bench.

“And from the outside, I guess it just makes me look… I don’t know… unserious? Like I don’t really care about what I’m doing or that I’m not as into this whole music thing as everyone else.”

He shook his head slightly.

“But I am.”

“I mean… I had a whole different plan before this. I wanted to be a pilot for the longest time.”

A small, almost awkward smile tugged at his lips. “And then I just… didn’t because I believed in the band, in what we do. I think that was the biggest decision I made when I was maybe 17? Heck, that decision was honestly the biggest gamble I had, there were those people that were saying like, what if the band didn’t go successful or anything like that? But yeah, I think it’s my interest in music and yeah, my friends that made me decide to not apply for flight school and stay with them. I think that’s the part that people don’t see when they make those headlines of me going around the hotspots in Korea just to party.”

He exhaled, shoulders easing just a bit.

“So yeah… I don’t really think about how people see me.” A slight shrug. “It’s easier that way.”

Winter listened the entire time Yongsun spoke.

She hadn’t expected someone like him to think about himself that way. To her, he had always come off as someone who just drifted through nights and noise, someone tied to bars, clubs, and the louder side of Hongdae but hearing him like this made her realize there was more underneath that surface there was more intention, more weight.

He was still the same person she knew, but now she could see the effort behind it. Even if he had once wanted something completely different, he still chose this, and he chose it fully. That part stayed with her.

She just… didn’t know how to say any of that out loud.

And she definitely wasn’t good at responding to things like this without overthinking it.

“…I didn’t know you thought about it like that,” Winter said quietly.

Yongsun glanced at her. For a moment, his expression softened into something almost unreadable, before he reached into his pocket and pulled out two strawberry lollipops. He offered one of them to her without a word.

Winter looked at it for a while, then took it.

The two of them sat there in silence after that, facing the Han River.

The moonlight and city glow spread across the water in soft reflections, the surface shifting gently as if it was breathing with them.

For once, there was no need to fill the space between them, just the quiet presence of two people who had, in different ways, seen a little more of each other than before.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Winter was back at practice the next day, but her mind hadn’t quite caught up with her.

It kept drifting back to last night, to the river, to the things they’d said, to the things they hadn’t, maybe that was why she couldn’t focus.

In between runs, she found herself reaching for her phone more than usual. Not even consciously, just checking, unlocking, locking it again.

The only message she got from him was when she got back.

That was it and it was 10 hours ago.

Nothing after that.

Winter stared at the screen for a second longer than she needed to before turning it off again.

She didn’t even know why she was expecting anything. They weren’t… anything. They hadn’t talked about it, hadn’t defined it. It wasn’t like there was something to follow up on.

So why did it feel like there should be?

She shifted slightly, catching a faint trace of scent from her jacket, it smelled like cigarette smoke, dulled by time, mixed with something sweeter, as sweet as strawberry.

Her fingers tightened slightly around her phone.

It was stupid.

“…Minjeong-ah!”

She looked up.

“Time to practice again,” Karina called from across the room.

“Yeah,” Winter replied, pushing herself up.

As she walked back into formation, her grip on her phone loosened, slipping it into her pocket.

Maybe he’ll text… she thought before immediately pushing the idea away and focusing on the music that started playing again in the practice room.

The text didn’t come the next day or the day after that.

It came a week later.

A photo lit up her screen, it was a picture of his hand with a freshly lit cigarette between his fingers.

“You’d still say no to this, right? Got strawberry candy with me.”

Winter saw it just after her schedule ended. The timestamp was only a few minutes old.

She stared at it for a second, long enough to recognize what it was doing to her, before typing back

where you at?

The reply came almost immediately.

Not far. You coming?

She paused.

She had just gotten off schedule. She should go back. She knew she should.

And yet, a whole week of nothing, and now this. No explanation, no acknowledgment. Just… him, like nothing had happened. Her thumb hovered over the screen. Maybe this is his way of… something, she thought, even if she couldn’t quite finish the sentence.

yeah, send me the location

There were three dots, then a pin dropped into the chat.

Winter exhaled softly, already moving.

She put on a quick change into something low-key, a cap pulled down just enough, and she was out the door with her phone in hand, the map guiding her toward wherever “not far” meant tonight.

When she got there, he was already on the rooftop sitting on the edge with a cigarette between his fingers like he’d been there for a while. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard her.

“Took you long enough.”

Winter walked up to him, and he handed her a strawberry candy as usual, like the past week hadn’t existed.

For a second, she just looked at him.

Is he going to say anything about it?

He didn’t. Worse of all, he was out of character right now, he probably would’ve said some playful line or maybe talked about something random yet…

“You’ve been quiet,” she said instead.

“Have I?” He shrugged, bringing the cigarette back to his lips. “You still answered.”

The words sat heavier than they should have.

Because I thought you’d say something.

But you didn’t.

“So…” he glanced around the rooftop, like the moment had already passed, “you’ve been here before?”

And just like that, she didn't realize it at first but it was the start of something. The start of a tumultuous process.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

He got harder to read after that.

One moment, he’d text first. The next, his replies would come hours later. If they came at all that is, even when she could see he was online.

Sometimes, he was there exactly when she needed him, staying on the line while she talked through whatever was on her mind. Other times, he was nowhere like he only showed up when it suited him. In person, he never changed.

He was still playful and still somehow able to make everything feel lighter than it should have.

And yet, he never once brought up the silence. The few times she tried, easing into it with a quiet “Where have you been?” or something close to it, he’d just laugh it off, deflect, move on like it wasn’t worth staying on.

And somehow, she let him.

It fell into a pattern before she even realized it.

A few days of constant messages. Then nothing at all. Suddenly, a late-night invite. Then another stretch of silence. After that, a sudden reappearance And then, it repeats all over again

It went on like that for a month or two.

Long enough to confuse her more than she cared to admit. She didn’t know what was going on through Yongsun’s mind. What was his goal with all this? Does he even have an intention? What’s happening? He was very unexpected, she felt like he was leading her on but at the same time, she had that feeling that maybe she was misreading things. It was very unclear to her what was the end goal of all this was.

Then it got to a point where she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

She didn’t know what was going on but it was getting to her. The kind that lingered, that made her overthink things she normally wouldn’t.

Did he like her?

Did he not?

She couldn’t tell.

They had never talked about it. Never defined anything. She didn’t even know if there was anything to define in the first place and somehow, that made it worse because whatever this was, it was starting to get under her skin and she was running out of patience trying to figure him out.

So she decided that the next time he disappeared, she would do the same.

That day came sooner than she expected.

After practice, her phone lit up with his name.

She looked at it.

And for once, she didn’t open it.

It worked.

For a while.

Schedules filled the rest of her day, one after the other, enough to keep her distracted, enough to make her forget she was even trying.

But by the time everything slowed down, by the time she was finally back in the van with the others, heading to the dorms—

Her eyes drifted back to her phone.

The notification was still there.

Unread.

She exhaled softly, almost annoyed at herself.

She said she wouldn’t respond.

Then, the van’s radio clicked. Her manager must’ve turned it up a little, filling the quiet space with music.

A familiar intro played.

She stopped.

It was a Driveway Saints track, their new single.

The same one she had heard live weeks ago, back when it was still unreleased.

The one he wrote.

She didn’t mean to focus on it.

Didn’t mean to listen as closely as she did.

But it was like her mind did it for her, pulling her back, piece by piece.

Another one of those moments.

Another reminder she didn’t ask for.

Woo Yongsun, that was all it took for her mind to be running around in circles.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Her phone was still in her hand.

Still unread.

And somehow, that made it worse.

She didn’t know why she kept letting him get to her like this.

He never fully gave, he always left something unfinished, something just out of reach and she kept meeting him there anyway. It was like he was the pilot of the airplane and went around the route that wasn’t the destination.

She couldn’t read him, couldn’t predict him. She didn't know what came next and that was the worst part.

She wasn’t even angry, just frustrated at herself.

For wanting more when this, whatever this was, was already confusing enough.

Her fingers hovered over his name again.

Typing.

Stopping.

Deleting.

Starting over.

She stared at the blinking cursor for a second longer before exhaling and clearing the text completely.

Then she locked her phone, the screen going dark in her hand.

She knew what this was.

She just didn’t know how to stop.

Then, her phone buzzed again.

Another text from him.

She stared at it longer than she should have.

You alive?

As if he didn’t disappear the same way. As if he didn’t know exactly what he was doing.

Her grip on the phone tightened slightly. She already knew where this was going and maybe that was the problem. Because for the first time, she didn’t want to follow it.

There was something that settled in, something quieter than frustration settled in her chest.

Not anger.

Just clarity.

What are we doing?

At the same time, the van stopped at the dorms and her and her members went inside the dorms while she immediately went to her room.

“Minjeong, where are you going?” Ning suddenly asked, calling her out.

“I’ll just be back in my room, just go when you need something,” Winter said as she shut the door from behind, not even waiting for another one of her members to say anything else.

Once she got on her bed, she immediately opened the message and decided to call him. The timing was almost unreal, he was online. He would pick up, If he actually did.

He did pick up.

“Minjeong, hey. You called. Glad you’re not dead. That’s a first coming from you, usually I’m the one initiating calls. Need anything?”

There was a beat of silence on her end.

Then—

“Can you stop acting like nothing’s weird between us?”

“…Sorry?”

Her grip tightened slightly on the phone.

“Don’t you think about what you’re doing? You show up and disappear whenever you feel like it, and I don’t know what’s going on. What are you even doing here? You act like you want to get to know me and then the next moment you’re unreachable.”

She swallowed, breath a little sharper now.

“I’ve tried asking you. Multiple times. Where you’ve been, what you’re doing when you’re gone and you never give me a proper answer.”

A pause.

This time, she didn’t let it sit.

“What even are we, Yongsun?”

Her voice dropped slightly.

“Are you interested in me or not? Just tell me. If you don’t want this, then say it. I’m not a mind reader, I can’t keep guessing what you’re trying to do with all of this.”

Her frustration finally broke into clarity.

“I can’t keep up with your mixed signals. So, explain to me, Woo Yongsun, what is happening?”

There was silence on the line, only the faint background noise from Yongsun’s end filling the space between them. Then his voice came through again, quieter this time, more serious.

“I don’t really know what you want me to say…” He paused. “Minjeong, I’m not that deep. I just… come around when I feel like it. That’s all. ”

She froze.

What?

Did he just—

Even after being called out, he still wasn’t giving her a real answer, just stating it like it was normal like that was supposed to explain everything.

So what he was saying was he hadn’t been intentional about any of it? No consistency, no structure, no meaning behind the way he came and went.

Then what was all of this supposed to be?

Her thoughts tangled, sharper now, no longer slow confusion but something closer to clarity she didn’t want.

All that time she spent trying to understand him… was there even anything to understand?

She swallowed, her voice steadier than she felt.

“So what you’re saying is, you’re not being consistent?”

“Guess that clears everything up.”

Her grip tightened slightly on the phone.

“Then don’t show up at all if that’s how it is.”

A pause stretched across the line.

Then Yongsun’s voice came through, lighter this time followed by a chuckle. “You say things like that when you’re mad.”

Another silence when he read the room.

“…Oh,” he added after a beat, like something had just settled in his head. “You’re actually going through with this…”

A few seconds passed. No teasing this time, he put on a serious tone.

“Okay… if that’s what you want. I can’t really stop you. I’ve got band rehearsal tomorrow, and I’m actually hungover right now, so…” A small exhale. “If you think this is the right thing, then do what you have to do.”

Winter stayed still, eyes fixed on the screen.

That was it

He wasn’t going to stop her.

He wasn’t going to say more.

For a moment, she almost waited for something else, some clarification, some sign that this meant more than it sounded.

But there was nothing.

Her grip loosened slightly.

“…Okay,” she said quietly, mostly to herself.

Then she ended the call and the screen went dark.

And this time, she didn’t reopen it.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Winter found herself pulling back her car into the dorm parking lot after that long drive around Seoul. She hadn’t meant to drift like that, to let her thoughts circle back to him, to all of it. It had been almost a year since that call, which was the last time they spoke to each other.

She still heard about him, here and there. Mostly through passing mentions, him and Driveway Saints were still doing well in their careers, still playing, still going on with their lives but nothing beyond that.

And somehow, that was enough to keep him around.

Not in the way he used to be but in smaller, quieter ways.

In the faint smell of cigarette smoke from somewhere down the street. In the sweetness of strawberries she didn’t think twice about before. In the sight of a denim jacket and black jeans that caught her attention a second too long.

They didn’t mean the same anymore.

Not really.

But they didn’t mean nothing, either.

She turned off the engine but didn’t get out right away, her gaze settling on the streetlights stretching across the city of Seoul.

It hadn’t been perfect and it definitely wasn’t clear either but it was real, in its own way.

There were still small moments that stayed with her.

Late nights that didn’t feel rushed. Conversations that didn’t follow a schedule. The way he made things feel lighter, even if only for a while.

He showed her something she hadn’t really allowed herself before, that life didn’t always have to be planned down to the minute. That there was space, somewhere in between everything, to just… exist.

Even if it didn’t last.

Even if it didn’t mean what she thought it did.

Her fingers tightened slightly around her keys. For a moment, she let herself sit in it, just the memory, just the feeling of the time to do between the gaps.

Then she exhaled, realizing that reality settled back in.

Morning schedules. Early call times.

She stepped out of the car, the cool air grounding her as she made her way back inside.

And as she walked toward the dorms, she realized—

Some things didn’t stay.

zhong chenle x fem! reader word count: 6510 words part of the series: too close to let go, too far to hold a/n: still not okay abt mark leaving but if its his choice, its rlly for the best 😭😭😭 hopefully lele doesnt leave next once his contract ends tho. anyways, might not write nct that much anymore cause of everything that's happening within the group rn

As Y/N ran from the scene, Chenle stood frozen.

The noise of the arena: the cheers, the footsteps, the voices, all slowly faded into nothing. People were leaving, moving on, while he remained rooted in place as if time had stopped for him alone.

He had a thousand things he wanted to say, he had rehearsed them over and over again for years but none of it mattered now.

He finally got the chance to say what he had been holding onto for nearly a decade, yet he still lost her.

Maybe he should’ve said more. Maybe he should’ve stopped her.

But it was pointless now.

His thoughts spiraled, landing somewhere softer, quieter.

Would I be the last dream inside her head tonight?

The question lingered longer than he expected. He almost laughed at himself. Of course not, not after all that.

And yet, he wished he was.

Even just for a moment.

Will she think about me at all?

Or would this just be another thing she forgets? Another moment that fades as if it never happened?

His jaw tightened.

Why did he even care?

She turned him down, that should’ve been enough. He should’ve walked away, just like she did.

So why couldn’t he?

“Chenle!”

The sound of his name snapped him out of it. Staff hurried toward him telling him to get back inside before his manager noticed he was gone.

He nodded, moving without really thinking except for the few moments with Y/N. The rest of the night continued like nothing had happened but he didn’t move with it like he normally did.

Everything around him felt too fast while the moment with her lingered, it stretched thin in his mind, like something that had only lasted seconds… but meant everything.

That was the worst part.

He had waited nine years.

Nine years should’ve been enough, no, actually it was more than enough. It was too long of a time.

But somehow, it still wasn’t.

Time had moved on and he was the only one left behind.

He was alone in the hotel room.

The others were at the after party. Normally, he would’ve been there too but tonight, he chose not to go.

He just… couldn’t.

His gaze lingered on the award sitting on the table across the room.

He should’ve been there celebrating. Should’ve been proud. Should’ve felt something after winning yet another Daesang.

But he didn’t.

Because what was the point of any of it if she wasn’t there?

His thoughts drifted back to her.

He remembered the small details of her face, the ones he knew by heart.

The way her resting expression was always mistaken for a scowl. The slight furrow of her brows that made people think she was judging them, when in reality, she was probably just overthinking something trivial like whether to pour the milk or the cereal first.

The way she barely reacted, her expressions that don't somewhat match what she was thinking yet people called her cold for it. The quiet, flat tone of her voice, paired with short answers that others dismissed as uninterested.

They never understood her.

They never tried to.

But he did.

He always did.

He knew that her silence didn’t mean she didn’t care. That her lack of expression didn’t mean she wasn’t feeling anything.

If anything, she felt too much.

And sometimes, she just didn’t know how to show it.

There were even times he had to step in, softening her words, turning them into something easier for others to accept.

Not because she meant anything wrong but because the world didn’t always understand honesty the way she did.

And maybe that was the problem.

He understood her.

But somehow, that still wasn’t enough to make her stay.

Then it hit him… the moment it all started.

Well… not exactly. He hadn’t known he liked her back then. He hadn’t even thought of it that way.

But looking back now, that was where it began.

How did something like this last for so many years? How did this even start?

Before he could stop himself, his mind drifted, pulling back into a memory he hadn’t revisited in a long time.

Back to a day where everything felt lighter.

It was supposed to be just another day of school.

To Chenle, school was something to get through: nothing more, nothing less. Maybe a little more bearable if his friends were around, that was usually how he saw it.

But lately… it felt different.

The seating chart had changed.

And somehow, he ended up sitting next to Y/N.

He hadn’t expected it but for some reason, he found himself looking forward to it.

It was the first time they’d actually been seatmates since preschool. They’d always known each other, they talked after school, during breaks, when they were out in the neighborhood, but never like this. Never in a space where they had to sit side by side, every day.

She was quiet, yeah, but she wasn’t cold.

At least, not to him.

He never understood why the other kids thought she was scary, why they kept their distance instead of trying to get to know her.

Because from what he knew she was observant in everything and thoughtful even in the most simple ways. The kind of person who noticed things everyone else missed.

And if you paid enough attention, you’d realize there was always more going on in her head than she let on.

Chenle made it to class just in time.

The teacher was already at the front, but thankfully, she hadn’t started yet. Without wasting a second, he slipped into his new seat and glanced to his side.

Y/N was already there, head slightly down, writing something in her notebook like she always did.

He leaned a little, trying to see, but couldn’t make out much. Not that it mattered. It was probably something trivial anyway.

It always was.

He remembered the time she spent days following a caterpillar just to figure out its stages on how it became a butterfly. Somehow, he got dragged into it too, trailing behind her as she observed it like it was the most important thing in the world.

He didn’t mind.

As long as he was with her, that was enough.

“Alright, class, today we’re making paper cranes.”

The teacher began handing out origami paper, demonstrating each step as she went along.

At first, it was easy enough. Chenle followed along without much trouble, folding where he was told, keeping up with the pace of the class.

Until he wasn’t.

Somewhere along the way, he missed a step. He only realized it when the next fold didn’t make sense.

He frowned slightly, turning the paper in his hands.

Where did I mess up?

The teacher was already moving ahead, she was too fast for him to catch up. He knew he could just raise his hand and she’d come over eventually but instead, he tried to fix it on his own.

He unfolded, refolded, flipped it around… still nothing.

He was just about to give up and call the teacher when a voice came from beside him.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

He turned to her, a little caught off guard.

“…I know that,” he muttered, glancing back down at the crumpled mess in his hands. “I just don’t know which part I got wrong.”

Y/N didn’t respond immediately. She leaned slightly closer instead, her eyes scanning his paper with quiet focus.

There it was again, that look. Brows faintly drawn together, gaze fixed like she was trying to solve something only she could see. At this point, he had every single one of her facial expressions done to a tee.

Then she reached over. Without asking, she tapped a corner of his paper.

“Here.”

He blinked. “That’s it?”

“You skipped a fold.”

“I didn’t skip anything,” he said defensively, turning it back toward himself. “I followed everything.”

She gave him a look. Not annoyed, not impressed either. Just the certain look.

“You skipped this part.”

“…Okay, but what if the instructions were wrong?”

“They weren’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because mine works.”

He glanced at her desk.

A perfectly folded paper crane sat there, seated in front of her.

He stared at it for a second before looking back at her.

“…You’re not even going to help me?”

“I already did.”

“That’s not helping, that’s criticizing.”

“It’s helping.”

“How?”

“You know what’s wrong now.”

He paused, then let out a small huff.

“…You’re kind of mean, you know that?”

She gave another look again, the look of certainty.

“I’m right.”

He stared at her for a second longer, then, without meaning to, a grin started to form.

“…Yeah. You are.”

He looked back down at his paper, fixing the fold she pointed out. This time, it worked.

“Oh—wait, okay, I see it now.”

Silence settled between them again, but it wasn’t awkward. He kept folding, a little more carefully this time.

Then, without thinking, he started talking.

“Did you know some people think if you make a thousand of these, your wish comes true?”

She didn't respond.

He glanced at her. She was still working on hers but she did seem to be listening.

“I think that’s kind of unrealistic though. Like, who has time for a thousand? What if you mess up one? Do you start over? That’d be so annoying.”

She still didn't respond but she didn’t tell him to stop.

Didn’t look bothered.

Didn’t react the way other people usually did.

So he kept going.

“And what kind of wish would even be worth a thousand cranes? That’s a lot of effort. It has to be something big, right? Like, what would you even wish for?”

Then—

“…I don’t know.”

Her voice was quiet and flat like always but she answered.

That was enough.

He smiled a little to himself, eyes dropping back to the paper in his hands.

He didn’t think much of it at the time. He didn't question why it felt so easy to just keep talking. He didn't wonder why he didn’t feel the need to stop himself, or tone it down, or be anything less than what he already was.

He just knew that sitting there beside her felt comfortable like he didn’t have to change anything about himself.

He didn’t realize it back then.

But a class in fifth grade while they made paper cranes, that was the first time something felt different. 

He was exhausted.

Not the kind sleep could fix but the kind that settled deep in his chest.

Then, a quiet knock broke the silence before the door creaked open.

“You good?”

Chenle glanced over as their manager stepped inside. He gave a small nod.

“I’m fine.”

The manager lingered for a second, like he wanted to say more, but didn’t. He grabbed something from the table and left just as quietly, the door clicking shut behind him.

Chenle let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and turned back toward the window.

The city stretched out beneath him, Shanghai glowing under the night sky.

If she were here…

The thought came too easily.

They probably wouldn’t even say much at first. Just stand there, side by side, looking out at the lights.

And then, somehow, it would turn into one of those conversations she liked, the kind that went deeper than it needed to, where small talk didn’t exist and everything actually meant something.

She always preferred those, small talk drained her.

He swallowed, his gaze softening as it lingered on the skyline.

I don’t want to be here.

The realization settled in quietly, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

I don’t want to go anywhere… except back to her.

He looked away from the city view as he lay in bed, turning onto one side. He ran a hand through his hair and finally let himself sink into the moment. Thinking about Y/N now, he laughed quietly. This wasn’t new. It had always been like this.

It was the middle of March, supposed to be his second term in eighth grade. At least, that was the plan until SM Entertainment offered him a trainee contract after seeing one of his performances. He had intended to turn it down and focus on school, but his dad convinced him it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. So, in the middle of a school day, he packed his bags. SM had given him only a small window to move, sign the contract, and report to training.

Before leaving, he had told Y/N about it. That he’d been offered the opportunity and he was going to take it. She had just nodded, smiling softly. “That’s great,” she said, her voice quiet but warm. Then she added, almost as an afterthought, “Just promise me we’ll still talk even if you’re in Korea.”

“I will, Y/N. I promise you that.”

Except that promise never came.

He hated himself for it.

Somehow, he let almost a decade pass without contacting her, caught up in everything, and then trapped by it.

His hand moved almost on instinct, reaching for his phone. He opened Instagram, the familiar screen lighting up the dim room, and tapped on her account.

He had found it the last time he went back to Shanghai.

He remembered waiting at her family’s hotpot place, thinking maybe, just maybe, he’d see her again. But instead, her sister showed up, telling him Y/N was in Beijing for university. She handed him her Instagram, and said he could reach out if he wanted to.

He never did.

Every day after that, he’d open the app and end up here, on her profile.

His finger would hover over the Follow button, lingering there longer than it should, before pulling away again.

It had been too long.

Too sudden.

Too late.

He remembered how easy it used to be, how he could just walk over to her house that was next to his and knock on the door, or find her somewhere in the neighborhood without a second thought. Back then, talking to her didn’t take courage.

Now, it felt impossible.

And all he wanted, was to be close enough to feel her.

The thought hit him harder than he expected.

This feeling… It wasn’t new.

It was the same as before.

He left her once and now, when he finally tried to find his way back, she was the one who ran.

He lost her twice.

Once because he left—

and now, because she did.

He pondered why he never reached out. Maybe, just maybe, if he had tried harder, if he hadn’t been so caught up in everything, things could have been different. Maybe he wouldn’t have left such a gap between them.

It was early 2017. NCT Dream had just earned their first music show win for My First and Last. Because of that, the company allowed the members to regain personal contact. During training, SM had cut them off completely, so naturally, Chenle couldn’t reach Y/N. Now, with the restrictions lifted, his first instinct should have been to contact her immediately.

But almost a year had passed since he left for Korea. He felt a gnawing guilt for not reaching out, despite the promise they had made to keep talking. What if she was mad at him now? Did he even have the courage to face her after breaking that promise he made?

He told himself he was going to reach out to her and for once, he followed through.

The moment he finally got his phone back, he didn’t hesitate. He dialed Y/N’s number immediately, pressing it to his ear as his heart picked up speed.

“The number you have dialed is unavailable.”

A flat tone followed.

He frowned. Did she change her number?

He tried again, same result.

Then he scrolled through the few contacts he still had saved: his parents, a couple of old friends from back home. One by one, he dialed them.

None of them went through.

What was going on?

Maybe it was his phone. It had been sitting unused for so long, it made sense that something wasn’t working right. He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. Fine, he’d get it fixed first, then he’d try again.

And if that still didn’t work…

Then he’d go back to Shanghai.

He’d find her somehow, explain everything and fix what he broke.

Yeah, that was the plan.

Get the phone fixed, call her again and if that failed, wait for any window he could take, no matter how small, and go back.

But before he could even act on it, he was called away for another schedule.

Of course.

Rookies weren’t given time to pause, not when the company wanted to keep their momentum going.

He glanced down at his phone one last time before slipping it into his pocket.

Fine, he’d fix it after.

He had time.

…Right?

He did have time to get his phone fixed. It only took a couple of days, and when it came back, the problem turned out to be simple: international calling hadn’t been enabled.

That had been it.

He didn’t waste a second. The moment he got it back, he dialed her number again.

Same result.

He tested it with other contacts this time. They went through just fine.

So maybe… he just had to try more.

Once. Twice. 10 times.

Until that reached 72.

He stopped counting after that, but the number stayed with him anyway.

Minutes blurred into hours, and before he knew it, the day had slipped past him with his phone still pressed to his ear. He told himself he’d stop there, try again tomorrow, maybe she was just busy.

Tomorrow came and he tried again.

Hours turned into days. Days turned into weeks. Every day, the same routine: dial, wait, silence.

He started reaching out in other ways. Old friends, anyone who might have known her. Nothing. No one had her contact anymore.

He even asked his mom to reach out to hers.

Still nothing.

No number. No message. No way in.

The silence stretched, and with it, something in him began to sink.

It wasn’t just frustration anymore, it was something heavier. Restless nights where he couldn’t sleep, his phone always within reach, his thumb hovering over her number like it might work this time if he just tried again. Even the people around him started to notice, the way he grew quieter, duller, like something in him had dimmed.

He tried everything and none of it worked.

In the end, he came to the only conclusion he had left.

He’d go back to Shanghai.

If there was even the smallest window, no matter how tight, no matter how impossible, he’d take it.

Because this time, he wasn’t going to leave things unanswered.

Well, his 15 year old self had thought it would be that easy.

But in a life that revolved entirely around his work, time was never really his to control.

Schedules blurred together, days folding into weeks, weeks into months. The company pushed them forward relentlessly one comeback after another, one schedule after the next. There was no pause, no space to step away, not when they were still trying to find their footing.

And before he knew it, three years had passed.

Still, he never forgot.

The thought lingered quietly at the back of his mind, buried under everything else but never truly gone.

It wasn’t until things finally began to settle, when the group had found some stability, when the pace slowed just enough to breathe that an opportunity appeared. A break, the first real one he’d had in years.

And he didn’t hesitate.

After four years of pushing forward without stopping, the first thing he did was pack his bags.

China.

Shanghai.

Her.

He didn’t care how long it had taken. He didn’t care how much time had passed or how much explaining he had to do.

This time, he was going to say everything he should’ve said back then.

He arrived in Shanghai, back in his old neighborhood.

Back to the L/N family’s hotpot place.

The same place he used to go to after long summer afternoons, after running around until the sun went down, or on days when school felt a little too heavy. Nothing had changed. The familiar warmth, the low hum of conversations, the comforting aroma that filled the air, it all hit him at once.

For a moment, it felt like he had stepped back in time.

He took a seat and ordered what he always used to get, the Golden Egg Hotpot. His fingers tapped lightly against the table as he waited, his eyes drifting around the space, expecting—

“Chenle?”

His head snapped up.

That voice—

But it wasn’t her.

Instead, he was met with a face that was familiar in a different way. Y/N’s younger sister stood there, setting his order down in front of him.

“Oh… hi,” he managed, the words coming out more awkward than he expected.

He hesitated.

Should he ask?

That was the whole reason he came here, wasn’t it? But suddenly, the question felt heavier than it should’ve been, like saying her name out loud would make everything too real.

Before he could gather the courage, her sister spoke again.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Chenle,” she said casually. “Jiejie would’ve been surprised if she saw you right now.”

His chest tightened slightly at that.

“But… she’s not here,” she continued, almost as an afterthought. “She’s about to start university soon. Dad already helped her move into her dorm in Beijing.”

He almost dropped his spoon at her words.

She wasn’t here?

She was in Beijing.

He didn’t even know she had moved, that she was leaving for university. He knew nothing at all. The realization hit harder than he expected.

“Were you looking for her?” her sister asked, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I mean… you used to follow her around all the time when you were kids.”

She let out a light laugh before waving it off. “Sorry, that sounded weird. But, um, if you want to talk to her, I can give you her Instagram. Just… don’t tell her it came from me.”

She quickly handed it over.

Chenle stared at the account on his phone, like it might disappear if he looked away for too long.

“Do you know exactly where she is?” he asked, almost too quickly.

Her sister tilted her head, thinking. “Not really. She just said it’s somewhere near her university.”

Near her university.

That was it. That was all he had.

But it was enough.

Because there was no way he was just going to sit here and do nothing.

Beijing.

That was how he ended up there, not long after, moving through a city that felt too big, too crowded, too unfamiliar all at once. People passed him in waves, faces blending together as he searched for something, anything, that could lead him to her.

It took him 2 days.

2 days of walking, stopping, checking his phone, looking up at every street like she might suddenly appear out of nowhere.

But none of that mattered. Not the sudden flight, not the rushed schedule, not even the distance between here and Korea.

The only thing that mattered was, he wasn’t going back without seeing her.

He knew he could’ve just messaged her through the account her sister gave him.

But after three years of silence, suddenly appearing in her messages felt… wrong. Like he’d only dig himself into a deeper hole.

No, this wasn’t something he could fix through a screen.

If he was going to talk to her, it had to be in person.

That was the only way it would mean anything.

The problem was, he had no idea where to find her.

Her sister hadn’t been much help with specifics, and now he was left wandering through a city that felt far too big for something so uncertain.

Then, in the middle of the crowd, something caught his eye.

A girl walking a little ahead, her posture slightly hunched, her pace just a bit faster than everyone else, like she was trying to get somewhere without drawing attention.

That looked like—

Before he could think it through, he was already moving.

“Y/N!”

He reached out, grabbing her shoulder.

The girl turned.

It wasn’t her.

The moment stretched, heavy with realization.

“Oh, sorry, I- I thought you were someone else,” he stammered, quickly pulling his hand back.

The girl gave him a confused look before walking off, leaving him standing there in the middle of the crowd.

Chenle exhaled, running a hand over his face, completely mortified.

He eventually gave up on wandering and made his way to a nearby bench, needing a moment to breathe, just to clear his head.

The noise of the city faded into the background as he sat there, staring out at Kunming Lake. The water was calm, almost too calm, a stark contrast to everything going on inside him.

And somehow, in the quiet of it all, his thoughts drifted back, to the moment he realized he actually loved her.

It was their debut era, everything still new, still moving too fast to fully grasp.

Backstage lights flickered overhead as staff moved around them, voices overlapping, calling out cues he barely processed. Someone adjusted his mic. Someone else fixed his hair.

“Stand by.”

Chenle nodded, even if he wasn’t sure what he was nodding to anymore. Time had been like that lately, slipping past him before he could catch it.

2 months of training. That was all it took for his life to turn into this.

The stage was just beyond the curtain. He could hear the crowd already, they were so loud he could hear them from backstage.

This was it.

Everything he had worked for.

He should’ve been focused, excited even.

Instead—

For a brief, quiet second, his mind drifted somewhere it shouldn’t have.

A different voice, a different kind of silence.

A girl who never filled space unless she meant to.

He blinked, the image slipping in before he could stop it.

Y/N…

It didn’t make sense. Not here, not now, not when everything around him was finally falling into place.

A staff member called his name, pulling him back.

“Ready?”

He nodded again, this time more firmly.

The music started. The crowd roared. The lights came on all at once.

And as he stepped onto the stage for just a moment, in the middle of all that noise…

Something felt missing…

And that was the moment he realized that Y/N wasn't just a crush that he was going to get past when he moved to Korea, he was the love of his life.

He was supposed to be sleeping.

That was the point of coming back early, skipping the after party, shutting the door, giving himself a chance to rest.

But instead, he lay there, staring at the ceiling, the room too quiet for his thoughts to stay still.

He closed his eyes and everything came rushing back.

Her voice, the way she held herself, like she was already pulling away before he could get any closer.

The words she said, about it being selfish, about not wanting to ruin what he had built.

And then, her leaving.

It played over and over, sharper each time.

He exhaled, turning onto his side as if that would make it stop. It didn’t.

Because just before that, he remembered running.

Pushing past staff, past security, not caring who called his name or tried to stop him. He had to find her. He had to say it, he had to make her understand that she mattered more than anything they had just won.

More than the stage.

More than the award.

He just wanted to celebrate with her. After everything, after all those years of trying to get back to her, he thought, maybe this time…

His eyes squeezed shut.

It still didn’t work.

The room felt smaller somehow, the air heavier. Like something was pressing down on his chest, keeping him in place.

The moment he let his thoughts slip, they dragged him deeper, further back to everything he never fixed, everything he never said.

All those years.

All that time he lost.

It didn’t feel distant anymore.

It felt like he was still there,vstuck in it, unable to pull himself out.

He tried to sleep again.

This time, the silence didn’t stay quiet.

Voices bled through instead, faint at first, then clearer. Right backstage, right after everything with Y/N.

“You guys should celebrate.”

“Come on, it’s a big win.”

He shifted slightly under the covers, eyes still shut.

He should’ve been there, should've been celebrating with them.

But the thought of it felt distant, almost unreal.

Not after tonight.

Not after finally saying everything he had carried for nine years, only for it to fall apart in a matter of minutes.

The voices overlapped, louder now, harder to ignore, until one cut through them.

“Lele… you okay?”

His eyes opened.

Jisung stood in front of him, brows slightly drawn, something careful in the way he looked at him.

For a second, Chenle just stared back.

Then he nodded, forcing a small smile. One that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m fine.”

Jisung paused. He wanted to say something else but he didn’t.

“…Okay.”

And then he left.

Chenle exhaled softly as the memory slipped away, replaced once again by the quiet of the hotel room.

He pulled the blanket over his face, shutting out what little light remained.

Everything felt muffled like he was underwater. The air felt heavier somehow, pressing against his chest.

His lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something but no sound came.

Nothing did.

Before he knew it, his eyes lulled to sleep as soon his vision got darker.

Chenle stayed on the bench long after the crowd around him had thinned out.

He had already searched for hours, weaving through streets and unfamiliar corners, chasing nothing but a vague idea of where she might be.

And still, nothing.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, gaze fixed somewhere ahead but not really seeing anything at all.

Beijing was too big for this.

Too big for him to just… find her.

A quiet thought settled in, she had her own life now.

A new city, new people.

A future already unfolding for her in ways he wasn’t part of.

He exhaled.

Maybe showing up like this, out of nowhere, after years, wasn’t the right way to do it.

His fingers tightened slightly against each other.

She’s in university… That meant 4 years.

The thought lingered longer than it should have.

By then, things would be different. He could come back properly, talk to her properly.

Not like this.

Chenle leaned back against the bench, eyes drifting upward as the noise of the city blurred into the background.

…He could wait.

He woke up again, breath uneven, the remnants of a dream still clinging to him.

Chenle reached for his phone, the screen lighting up in the dark.

30 minutes.

That was it.

He let out a quiet breath, dropping the phone back onto the mattress beside him.

Of all things, that was what his mind decided to bring back.

He shut his eyes briefly, a faint scoff escaping him, more tired than amused.

What was the point of any of that now?

He waited, he gave it time, he told himself he was doing the right thing.

And still, it all ended the same way.

Chenle dragged a hand down his face, the thought settling heavier than he expected.

Maybe he should’ve tried harder. Maybe he shouldn’t have left things the way he did, stretching it out, letting the years pass like that.

9 years.

The number felt ridiculous now.

His gaze drifted to the ceiling, unfocused.

He remembered what those years looked like.

The noise around him, people talking, laughing, moving on.

Voices telling him he should date, that it was normal, that it didn’t have to mean anything.

He never did.

Not because he couldn’t.

He just… didn’t want to.

There was always something holding him back. That subconscious thought in him, that he’d be crossing a line he wasn’t supposed to.

Even if it didn’t make sense anymore, even if it had been years, even if she wasn’t there.

Chenle exhaled slowly, eyes still fixed on nothing.

He remembered all of it.

Every year he spent away from her.

“Chenle, you should really get into a relationship, man. You’re almost 24…”

Chenle let out a small laugh, leaning back in his chair.

“I don’t know about that. Maybe never?”

It sounded like a joke except it cut deeper than it's supposed to be

His thumb hovered over the screen.

Her profile sat right there, unchanged, at least on the surface.

Follow.

It would only take one tap.

A simple notification on her end. A sudden reappearance after years of silence.

He hesitated.

Then his finger moved away.

The screen dimmed.

…Only for him to open it again later that night.

And the night after that.

“Hi, Chenle… I know this might be awkward, but I like you.”

They had just finished filming. The set lights were still warm, staff moving around them as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

“I’ve liked you since that variety show we did together in China. I know you’re an idol, and it’s complicated, but… I’m willing to take that risk. I love you.”

He blinked, caught off guard.

Her voice, steady, almost flat.

For a split second, something in his chest tightened.

Familiar.

But—

No.

He exhaled quietly.

“She’s not…”

The thought didn’t even finish.

“I’m sorry,” he said instead, offering a small, polite smile. “I like someone else.”

A pause.

“I think… you deserve someone who can give you that properly.”

The hotpot simmered quietly in front of him, steam rising in slow curls.

It looked similar enough.

Eggs, broth, the same golden color—

But it wasn’t the same. It never was. Since it didn't capture the way Y/N's parents made it.

Chenle reached for his chopsticks, then stopped, his gaze drifting to the empty seat across from him.

For a moment, it wasn’t empty.

He could almost see her there, moving between tables, brushing past him without looking, already knowing he was there anyway.

He’d call out to her, dragging her attention back and say something just to get a reaction.

Could be a sigh or a glance.

Sometimes, if he was lucky, the slightest hint of amusement.

The image slipped as quickly as it came.

The seat was empty again.

“It’s mid-January… so it should be winter break in China.”

The thought came and went, quiet and automatic.

“…She should be back in Shanghai.”

“Chenle?”

He blinked.

The studio lights came back into focus, the hum of the radio show returning all at once.

“Ah—yeah,” he said quickly, straightening slightly. “Sorry, I got distracted.”

-

“You know, you sing a lot,” Y/N said with a sigh, stopping in front of his table, her apron still tied around her waist. “I can literally hear you from the other side of the place. My mom’s gonna start asking if you want to perform for the customers.”

Chenle looked up at her, a grin already forming. “I mean… I wouldn’t mind. If Mrs. L/N asks, that means—”

“Absolutely not.”

She cut him off immediately, arms crossing.

“You already have enough on your plate. And your mom’s gonna kill both of us if she finds out you’re saying yes to stuff like that.”

Chenle scoffed lightly. “Hey, I can handle a little extra work. You just wouldn’t get it.”

Y/N blinked at him, unimpressed.

“I’m literally two months younger than you. Not even a year. And I work too.”

A beat.

“You’re not special.”

He clutched his chest dramatically. “Wow. What a way to hurt my feelings, N/N.”

He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “And for the record, me working is not the same as wiping tables at your family’s hotpot place.”

“Ah—there you two go again. Fighting like squirrels.”

Y/N’s dad appeared beside them, setting a pot down in front of Chenle.

“One Golden Egg Hotpot,” he said, smiling before glancing at his daughter. “Y/N, be back before the rush hour.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

He left just as quickly as he came.

Chenle gestured to the empty seat across from him.

“Well, that means you have time. Sit.”

“I’m fine standing.”

“Come on, your legs are gonna hurt.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment before pulling the chair out and sitting across from him. Her posture stayed straight, like she might stand up again any second.

Then she noticed it—his fingers tapping against the table in an uneven rhythm.

“…You’re doing that again,” she said. “You were playing piano earlier?”

Chenle glanced at his hand, then back at her. “How’d you notice that?”

A small pause.

“…Yeah. I was.” He shrugged lightly. “I’m trying to write something. Just… remembering the notes.”

Y/N raised a brow. “You? Writing a song?”

He frowned. “What? Nothing wrong with first times.”

“Well, yeah, but…” she trailed off, clearly unconvinced.

Chenle leaned forward slightly, catching on. “Oh, I see. You wanna help?”

“I didn’t—”

“That’s fine,” he cut in quickly, already deciding for her. “You can write the lyrics. I’ll handle the melody.”

Y/N blinked.

“You can come over after the restaurant closes,” he added, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She let out a quiet sigh at the sudden invitation, glancing toward the kitchen where her parents were busy working.

For a second, she didn’t say anything.

Then—just slightly—her expression softened. A small smile, barely there.

“I’ll ask my parents.”

Chenle lit up almost immediately. “Wait, you’re actually considering it?”

He let out a short laugh, a little surprised. “That’s new.”

Then, softer—

“…That’s good.”

He leaned back in his chair again, grin returning. “Just tell me what they say.”

Y/N nodded while he watched her for a second longer than necessary.

Doesn’t say anything else.

But the smile stays.

-

Chenle’s breath hitched, the remnants of the dream still clinging to him.

He had been dreaming again—about everything.

Every missed moment.

Every year that slipped past him.

Every version of her he never got back.

All for a girl who, in the end, had still turned him away.

His gaze drifted toward the window. The city lights of Shanghai stretched endlessly beyond the glass, quiet and indifferent.

He stayed there for a moment, lying still in the hotel bed, letting the silence settle in.

What if he had tried harder? What if he hadn’t let the years pass like that? Would the results have changed?

His throat tightened slightly.

“I love you, Y/N… I always will…”

a two part series zhong chenle x fem! reader synopsis: when your childhood friend comes back after nine years, he drops by and delivers you the biggest bombshell that could alter the course of your relationship except it gives you both a taste of how distance could influence both sides

mark lee x fem! reader word count: 7095 words synopsis: nct dream stops by london for their anticipated world tour but mark lee had another side quest in mind amidst the group's stay in london when he meets a certain british fan during the fansign

tw: suggestive, +18(?)

It was a Friday afternoon in May in London. NCT Dream had a two-night show coming up for their world tour, but SM decided to push their arrival earlier—and, of course, throw in a last-minute fansign while they were at it. Mark thought it was ridiculous. His schedule was already packed; he’d literally been with 127 the day before he flew with Dream into London and hadn’t had proper rest in what felt like forever. Exhaustion was nothing new, though, and it was the life he signed up for anyway so he sighed, shrugged, and accepted it like every new schedule handed to him.

So here he was, sitting behind a table in some random London venue, signing albums and chatting with fans like it was no big deal. That was the plan, anyway—until she showed up.

There was a girl that showed up to the long table with her album. She didn’t scream or act nervous like most fans. She just approached them like she was their friend and wanted to get it over with. Sure, her skin had a powder white complex like everyone else’s, but there was something else—something in the way she carried herself. The way she talked to the members wasn’t desperate or fawning; it was… natural. Like she just wanted conversation but also didn’t expect anything in return. She had this aura, this strange, calming energy that made the chaos around everything around him feel… softer.

Mark found himself staring from the far end of the table as she laughed at something Haechan said, then the staff moved her to Chenle. He couldn’t look away, not because she was outrageous, but because she had this way of making the moment hers. Something he realized he’d never felt before from his years as an idol.

He didn’t know why, but he found himself wishing time would hurry up so she’d finally make it to his spot, bringing that effortless energy with her that she was giving to his members and possibly have a great one minute talk with her. She does seem like someone fun to talk to… hopefully. His thoughts, of course, got cut off the second another fan appeared before him, and he had no choice but to put on his usual self and entertain them.

Still, his mind drifted back to the girl. She was now at Jaemin’s spot, halfway down the table, laughing and talking to him as if the world had slowed just for her and this event alone. Only three more fans to go… and this was the first time he genuinely hated being stuck at the far end of a long table. Three minutes felt long for this…

And then after finishing talking with yet another fan, after what felt like forever, an album was finally handed to him. He looked up and there she was, standing right in front of him. She had dyed hair, a Courage the Cowardly Dog shirt, stickers scattered across her face. Out of place? Ridiculous? Maybe. But there was something about the way she presented herself, the same energy she had, the one he could sense from the very far end of the table, it was brighter and bigger than it should be, like any moment she could burst all that energy once she opens her mouth.

“Hi! What’s your name?” he asked, smiling as he took the album.

“Y/N,” she replied, her voice steady and more confident than it should, her accent unmistakably British.

“Y/N…” he muttered, scribbling her name on the album. Then, lifting his gaze, he didn’t know what to say to be honest, he’s used to talking to lots of girls but none made him walk on eggshells the same way she did. “I like your look,” he compliments after taking a second look at her outfit.

“Thanks,” she replied with a small laugh. “I just came from my little cousin’s birthday party and didn’t have time to change… so here I pulling up like this. Him and his friends plastered these stickers all over my face, and they’re impossible to get off.”

Mark chuckled, shaking his head. “Damn… impossible, huh? Hopefully, you can get them off soon without hurting your face and at least none of them ended up on the album,” He wrote down a short message below her name, adding a subtle flourish, his eyes flicking up to study her again.

“You’re right, don’t worry, I’ll remove them before the concert starts. I’m gonna come to the London stop, Night 1.”

“Night 1? That’s…” he asked, still flustered, blinking at her like he’d misheard.

“Yup, tomorrow night and uh… what else? Oh yeah, before the time is up. I just want you to know that purple socks are underrated, and so are people who notice them.”

Wait… what?

Mark stared, caught somewhere between confusion and amusement, trying to process what she had just said but before he could, the staff announced that time was up, and the next fan had to move forward.

It was his cue to hand the album back. Y/N took it from him with a small smile. “Well, I’ll see you at the concert, Mark,” she said, before being gently guided away by staff, album in hand.

He didn’t know what to say or do with the last part she said. Mostly because it was absurd and it wasn’t often he heard that, especially in a workplace where it was mostly seriousness and prioritizing events before anything else but either way, no matter how out of place it was, it did amuse his otherwise jetlagged self and yeah, she really did seem like someone fun to talk to.

As Y/N disappeared into the crowd, Mark’s eyes lingered towards her but he couldn’t help but think, I hope she actually looks through the album…

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Y/N sat in her car, album in hand, the engine quietly humming in the background. She felt the familiar rush of excitement any fan would, having her favorite group sign her album and talk to her, even if it was only for a minute. She hadn’t expected to get a spot at the fansign, especially after buying just one album.

Opening it carefully, she flipped through the pages, admiring each member’s signature, their handwriting, and the little messages they’d left. She still couldn’t believe she was stumbling around Mark… That last line about purple socks… Seriously? What were you thinking Y/N, of all the stuff you could’ve said to him you chose that. She really blamed her cousin for showing up in the bouncy castle that made her think about it for the rest of the day. He probably thinks I’m stupid for suddenly blurting out the first thing I thought of. But at least he liked my last minute look so it was worth it. Then she reached Mark’s page.

His handwriting was neat, her name written clearly, surrounded by his signature, a short message—unmistakably him.

But then… something caught her eye. It was small and was written just below his page. She looked at what it was, a string of numbers. She leaned closer, squinting. What was this? A misprint? 

It took a few moments for it to sink in and realize what it was. No way… Did he just…?

Her heart raced and her mind trying to process what was going on. No, no, that can’t be his number, right? Are idols even allowed to do something like this? Maybe it was part of the print, some pre-printed thing she hadn’t noticed, but she was certain it wasn’t there before. It was even in the same handwriting as the message he wrote or maybe she was thinking too much about it.

Even if it was really a number, calling it would be… weird. Dangerous, maybe. She could end up labeled a sasaeng, or worse, get herself embarrassed in front of him or worst case scenario, it might not even be really his number, idols change their numbers a lot. The safest thing to do? Pretend she didn’t see it and leave it alone.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

“What were you thinking, Mark? You know she could’ve leaked your number as we speak,” his manager said, raising an eyebrow as they sat on the high stools at a pub near the hotel NCT Dream was staying in.

“She wouldn’t seem like that type,” Mark replied, swirling the drink in his hand. “What surprises me more is that I haven’t gotten a call all day.”

The first night of the London stop had just recently concluded and Mark decided to celebrate it by stopping by for a drink. He wanted to get the other members to join but they were too exhausted to even get up so that was how he ended up in the pub with his manager, who was probably one of the only people with them that was still awake. It was loud and crowded too but better than being just casually outside with the huge possibility of someone seeing him.

Other than that, he didn’t know why he was even expecting one. He’d written his number casually—just a small, impulsive thing. And yet, here he was, thinking about it, overanalyzing it, feeling… weirdly invested. Something about her felt different. Why was he thinking this way? He swore it had started as a simple curiosity, a momentary spark—but now, it felt like something real. And yes, it was fast. Maybe too fast and definitely impulsive but a part of him wanted to find a way to clear the mental fog so if it meant getting called by a fan from a fansign, then so be it.

“I don’t get why you’re waiting for a call, Mark,” his manager said, leaning back. “She probably didn’t even notice it, or she was caught off guard. And if she did… well, the fact it hasn’t gone public yet? You got lucky. You handed it to one of the more sensible fans.”

Mark let out a soft, humorless chuckle, though the corners of his mouth twitched into a grin. “Lucky, huh? Maybe. Or maybe… I just underestimated how unpredictable she’d be. Anybody would’ve tried to call me by now,” He paused, eyes distant. “Either way, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

His manager smirked. “Careful there. You sound like you’re already imagining the entire story before she even calls.”

Mark shook his head, a little embarrassed, but couldn’t hide the small, stubborn smile forming. “Maybe I am,” he admitted quietly, the thought of her crossing his mind more than he wanted to admit.

Then, a phone call came through the manager’s phone. “Hold on, let me answer this,” he said, stepping outside for a moment and leaving Mark alone. He let out a tired sigh and took another sip of his drink, trying to unwind.

That’s when he heard a familiar voice right next to him.

“Drinking after a show? That’s not very idol-like of you.”

That accent…

Mark looked up, squinting through the dim light. “Y/N?” he asked, recognizing her immediately—still in her concert outfit, banner tucked under one arm, lightstick in the other but the stickers on her face were gone.

“Surprise. It’s me,” she said with a grin. “You don’t mind me sitting here, right?”

“Uh… sure,” he said, trying to sound casual while internally thinking, What the heck are you doing here?

She slid onto the stool beside him, swinging her legs slightly. “What are you doing here?” he asked, curiosity and mild disbelief in his voice.

“What do you mean, ‘here’? Can’t a 26-year-old woman have a drink?” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, I wanted a quiet drink… until I saw you. Is it weird? Am I being a bit sasaeng-ish? I can leave if you want.”

Mark let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You? A sasaeng? You’re ridiculous.” He studied her for a moment, trying to figure out why she seemed so… effortlessly confident. “Okay, fine, but you’re making this more complicated than a quiet drink should be.”

She leaned closer slightly, smirking. “Complicated is kind of my specialty.”

Mark felt a tug in his chest, a mix of exhaustion and curiosity. She had this way of making him forget he was tired from the show, and just like that, the pub didn’t feel so crowded and loud anymore.

“You got them off…”

“Well, you know, by some miracle, I got them off. Thankfully it didn’t hurt a lot.”

“I didn’t see you at the show tonight…” he started, trying to keep his voice casual, but he felt that familiar tug of curiosity and amusement in his chest.

“Awww, thinking about me? How sweet,” she teased, leaning back slightly with a mischievous grin. “I was at the show. I just… sat on one of the boxes, the lower box to be exact. The pit was full, so yeah… I was very far away. But fret not—I got to see you and the boys.”

Mark blinked, caught off guard by her tone. “You… sat on one of the lower boxes? That’s one way to get a view, I guess.”

She shrugged, tapping her lightstick against the counter. “Hey, it worked. I could still see you. And honestly? That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Only you would make staying on the lower box sound romantic.”

She leaned a little closer, her grin softening. “Maybe it is. Or maybe I just like seeing you without all the screaming and chaos in the pit.”

Mark felt a small, involuntary smile tug at his lips. “You make it sound… simpler than it really is. And somehow… more interesting.”

She chuckled, nudging his shoulder lightly. “Careful, Mark. Compliments from you might go straight to my head.”

He leaned back in his stool, pretending to roll his eyes but secretly enjoying the banter. “Yeah, well… don’t let it get too big. I’m fragile, apparently.”

She laughed again, the sound carrying a warmth that cut through his exhaustion. And just like that, he realized that this little, impossible night, her randomly showing up, the flirty energy, the teasing banter, was quickly becoming far too compelling to ignore.

“I can help you with that.”

“Huh?”

“I know how to make sure it doesn’t get… too big.” She stood, brushing off her skirt. “Come with me.”

Mark froze, caught somewhere between curiosity and panic. What is she even planning? His manager could have a meltdown if he left without notice. Someone could see him. Articles, headlines, the scandal potential… And yet… why do I feel like I actually want to see where this goes?

“I don’t know about that, Y/N…” he started, voice low and cautious.

“Oh, come on,” she said, tilting her head with that same playful grin that had haunted him all day. “You gotta live a little. Before you know it, you’ll be back to your old touring life, stressed and exhausted. Don’t you want… a break?”

He hesitated, blinking at her, a mixture of exasperation and intrigue. “I…”

She smirked, leaning just enough to make him aware of how persuasive she could be. “Trust me. It’ll be fine. Just… a quick little escape. You can thank me later.”

Mark took a deep breath, running a hand over his face. This is ridiculous. This is insane. And yet… 

...That was how he ended up in the backseat of Y/N’s car, windows up, city lights blurring past, and suddenly feeling like everything else could wait.

They drove through the quiet London streets, the city lights streaking past the windows. Mark watched the familiar landmarks glide by in a blur, the clock tower of Big Ben glowing in the distance, the London Eye turning slowly against the night sky.

For a while, neither of them said much. The radio hummed softly in the background, filling the silence as Y/N navigated through the streets with surprising confidence.

Eventually, she pulled into a parking lot tucked between a row of closed shops. It was quiet, almost completely empty. The kind of place people didn’t really notice.

She turned off the engine.

Before Mark could even ask what she was doing, she stepped out of the driver’s seat and walked around the car. A moment later, the back door opened and she slid into the seat beside him.

“Y’know…” she said, leaning back against the seat, studying him. “You were pretty smart for that.”

Mark frowned slightly. “For what?”

“That phone number in my album.” She smirked. “So slick.”

He blinked. “You saw that?”

“I have eyes, Mark. Of course I saw that.”

“Then why didn’t you—”

“I wasn’t sure at first,” she interrupted. “I thought maybe it was a misprint or something.” She shrugged. “But then I noticed it was in the same handwriting as your message. So… yeah. Pretty sure it was your number, I’m 100% certain of it.”

Mark let out a small breath, running a hand through his hair. “Then why didn’t you call me?”

“Well,” she said, tilting her head, “I didn’t want to seem like a sasaeng, did I?”

He huffed out a quiet laugh at that.

“But what I really want to know is…” she continued, turning toward him slightly, moving an inch closer, “why you would do something like that?”

For a moment, Mark didn’t answer. The car felt smaller now, the quiet pressing in around them.

Finally, he shrugged, looking down at his hands. “I don’t know.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I mean… I do, but it sounds kind of stupid when I say it out loud.” He glanced at her, half-smiling. “You were just… different, I guess.”

“Different?” she repeated.

“Yeah.” He leaned back against the seat, exhaling slowly. “Most fans come up to the table screaming, shaking, trying to say everything they’ve been planning for weeks. But you…”

He chuckled softly.

“You were talking about stickers your cousin put on your face and purple socks.”

She laughed at that.

“I don’t know…” he said, shaking his head. “It just felt… normal. And I haven’t had a conversation like that in a while.”

The smile on her face softened a little.

“So you gave me your number because I talked about socks?”

“Hey,” he said defensively, though he was clearly amused. “Don’t underestimate the power of good socks.”

She nudged his shoulder lightly. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, glancing at her again, “you still showed up.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Outside, the distant hum of the city carried through the quiet parking lot, and inside the car, the air felt charged with something neither of them had really planned.

Finally, she smiled.

“Fair point.”

Then, rain started tapping against the windows, soft at first, then heavier, the droplets streaking down the glass of the car’s windows under the glow of the streetlights.

Mark didn’t even realize he was leaning closer until it was already happening.

Out of what was probably his better judgment, his lips brushed against hers.

It wasn’t a deep kiss—just tentative, testing the waters. He didn’t want to push her so he knew not to make the kiss deep. For a split second he expected her to pull away, maybe laugh it off, maybe call him ridiculous.

But she didn’t.

Her lips stayed on his. And then, slowly, she leaned in closer, deepening the kiss. The hesitation disappeared as the moment pulled them both in, their movements becoming instinctive.

For a while, the world outside the car might have stopped.

The thoughts that had been running through his head earlier, the manager who was probably panicking back at the pub, the risk of someone recognizing him, the potential articles, the scandals, the endless comments that would follow if anyone found out, all of it faded into the background.

None of that mattered right now.

For once, after the first night of the concert, he felt like he could breathe.

Eventually they pulled apart, both catching their breath in the dim light of the car.

Y/N looked at him, eyes bright despite the rain drumming on the roof.

“Please, Mark…” she said softly. “Don’t go easy on me.”

He blinked.

“Hit me as hard as you can.”

That was it.

The signal.

And after that, the rest of the night escalated far more than either of them had planned.

What happened next stayed between the two of them and the quiet London rain outside the car.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The second night of NCT Dream’s concert had just wrapped up. Normally, that would mean handling post-show duties and preparing to leave London for the next tour stop. But Mark’s mind wasn’t on schedules or logistics—it was on her.

Y/N. The British girl. The fan who had somehow carved herself into his brain rent-free after the first night. And all it had taken was… that. That one night, one impulsive decision, and now he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

He should know better. The risk he’d taken last night, the way someone could have seen him, his manager probably would have had a panic attack if he’d found out. In fact, his manager had been yelling at him that morning during rehearsal for wandering off on his own. Mark had told him everything from when he left to how he got back to the hotel by Uber, just carefully skipping the part about hooking up with a fan. That would’ve been a PR nightmare.

And yet… the thought of seeing her again was irresistible.

It couldn’t hurt for a second time, right? After all, they had each other’s numbers. As long as his manager or anyone on staff didn’t know, he figured… it was fine.

So, that was how he ended up here, in a quiet flat tucked away in Mayfair, long past the end of the second concert night. All because his own thoughts wouldn’t leave him alone.

It was fine, right? He kept telling himself that. Just a quick night to wrap things up so it didn’t gnaw at him for the rest of the stay or worse, for the rest of the tour. Nothing more.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

“You came…” she said, stepping into the living room, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Congrats on wrapping your London stop.”

He gave a tired, half-smile. “Thanks. You… didn’t have to wait up for me.”

“Of course I did.” She moved to the counter and set down a bottle of wine with a soft clink. “You do drinks, right? A proper nightcap for a tired idol?”

Mark ran a hand over his face and let out a small laugh. “I guess that’s one way to celebrate surviving two nights of screaming fans.”

She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Surviving? Sounds dramatic. I’d call it… indulging.”

He shook his head, amused despite his exhaustion. “Indulging… yeah. That’s one way to put it.”

She uncorked the bottle and poured them each a glass, sliding one toward him. “So, tell me,” she said, settling onto the couch and crossing her legs, “how bad was wandering off on your own last night? Should I be impressed or scared?”

Mark let out a soft laugh, leaning back against the armrest of the couch. “Both, probably. I’m not proud, but… it was worth it.”

She raised her glass in mock salute. “Good answer. Now drink. We have a long night ahead, you know.”

And just like that, the night began—long, unpredictable, and entirely theirs. They were casually drinking when suddenly, Y/N starts. “Y’know,” she said, smirking as she slipped off the shawl around her shoulders, revealing a soft, loose nightgown that hinted at more than it showed. “Just drinking is kind of boring… Let’s do bases.”

Mark froze mid-sip, eyes flicking to her, a mix of disbelief and amusement crossing his face.

“Bases?” he repeated cautiously.

She leaned against the counter, hands on her hips, grinning like she’d already won. “First base: kiss, second base: above the waist, third base: below the waist… you know the drill. Don’t worry, we’ll stop at third. No home runs tonight.”

He ran a hand over his face, shaking his head, half-laughing, half-flustered. “You are insane. Absolutely insane.”

“Insane, or brilliant?” she teased, tilting her head. “Come on, it’s just a game. And besides…” she took a step closer, voice dropping playfully, “…I’ve seen the way you look at me, Mark. You’ve been waiting for this all night, haven’t you?”

He swallowed hard, heart racing despite the exhaustion of the concert. “Maybe I… maybe I have.”

She held his gaze, letting the tension hang in the air, a mischievous spark in her eyes. “Good. Then let’s start. You first.”

Mark’s brain scrambled, telling him this was reckless, a terrible idea, but something in him; the thrill, the curiosity, the pull of her energy pushed him forward. And just like that, the game began.

He picked up his glass, hands shaking slightly, and held it up in mock salute. “First base,” he said, trying to sound confident. “Sip.”

She laughed, tipping her own glass. “Easy start,” she said, her grin teasing before she gave him a warm kiss after the first base which left him flustered but Y/N immediately slid in, “Your turn.”

They went back and forth, each round a mix of silly dares, playful teasing, and compliments disguised as part of the game. Every “second base” had Mark fumbling, caught off-guard by how bold she was, her hand brushing his shoulder, her laughter ringing out across the small apartment. He couldn’t tell if it was the wine or just the way she made him feel, but he was definitely flustered.

By the time they reached “third base,” the room was a mess. Cushions had been shifted, drinks were precariously perched on counters, and the soft music she’d left playing was drowned out by laughter.

“Okay,” she said, leaning closer, eyes sparkling. “Third base. Don’t chicken out.”

Mark hesitated, heart thudding, acutely aware of the thrill in the game and the pull of being close to her. He took a slow breath, trying to steady himself, and leaned in, their knees brushing under the table. The tension built, playful yet electric, and for the first time all night, Mark let go of overthinking.

A sudden jolt of clumsiness, she reached for her glass at the same time he did, their hands colliding and they both stumbled back onto the couch. Wine sloshed, laughter erupted, and Mark found himself laughing harder than he had all tour, utterly caught up in the chaos of the night.

She flopped onto the cushions beside him, hair slightly mussed, nightgown shifting as she propped herself up on her elbows, grinning like a wild child. “See? This is why drinking is better with company,” she said, voice breathless from laughing.

Mark shook his head, trying to catch his breath. “You are completely insane,” he said, still laughing, “but… I kind of love it.”

“Insane or brilliant,” she teased again, nudging him playfully. “I told you. There’s a difference.”

Somewhere between the spilled drinks, playful falls, and their constant teasing, Mark realized he had no idea how long they’d been at it and how long he could keep track. All that mattered was the moment, the chaotic energy, and the way she had thrown him entirely off-balance.

By the end of the game, they were both breathless, sitting amid the scattered cushions and half-empty glasses. She leaned back, laughing, hair falling into her face, and Mark just stared at her, utterly captivated by her.

At that moment, he understood exactly what the last line of her game meant; the wild, reckless, messy freedom she brought into the night, the kind of chaos he’d never expected, and the reason he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

It had been quiet for a moment, the kind of stillness that made him suddenly aware of everything—the spilled wine, the cushions tossed across the floor, and most of all, her.

Mark’s gaze drifted to the nightgown she’d been wearing since he arrived. He froze, realizing he hadn’t really noticed it before—not properly.

“What? You’re only noticing it just now?” she said, smirking, her voice teasing as she leaned back on the couch. “There’s a reason I held it until third base…”

Mark’s face went hot, a mix of amusement, disbelief, and something more he couldn’t quite name. His heart was still racing from the chaos of the night—the game, the spills, the playful falls, the way she had pulled him into every little move without him even realizing it.

“Third base…” he muttered, shaking his head, trying to regain his composure. “You’re… So that’s why….”

“Uh huh,” she countered, tilting her head and letting her eyes gleam with mischief. “But seriously, Mark… you like this, don’t you?” She teased about pulling one of the straps of her nightgown while staring at Mark’s eyes with that passion and desire.

He hesitated, swallowing hard. Every rational thought he had about the concert and everything else had evaporated hours ago. Now, all that mattered was the way she was teasing him, the way her hand brushed his as she shifted closer, and the way the night had escalated completely out of control.

Before he could answer, she reached for his hand, tugging him to his feet with surprising strength. “Come on,” she said, voice low, playful. “The living room is boring. The night’s still young, it can’t just end like this.”

Mark’s brain screamed warnings, but his body and heart had their own plan. He followed, every step charged with anticipation, laughing nervously as the storyline of the night played out like some surreal movie in his head. Something he wouldn’t want to escape from. Every step, every glance, every touch had him begging for the next. Before he knew it… it had gotten serious. And when she pulled him up the stairs, there was no turning back.

“It’s way better in the king sized bed,” she declared before they headed inside her room.

Then once again, the steaminess of the atmosphere got intense just like the first night.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Mark woke to the soft orange light filtering through the curtains, warm and almost gentle after the chaos of the night. Blinking, he shifted and realized… he was naked.

Damn. Last night had really been… intense.

His eyes drifted to his right, and there she was—Y/N, curled up and sleeping peacefully. She looked beautiful, serene, completely unaware of how chaotic the night had been for him.

He froze for a moment, taking it all in. As much as he wanted to stay, to just watch her sleep, he knew he couldn’t linger. There was a tour schedule to keep, flights to catch, and staff who would probably panic if he was missing yet again. He knew he couldn’t afford to be yelled at this time.

Carefully, so as not to wake her, he slipped out of the bed and began gathering his scattered clothes. Socks, shirts, jackets—it was all over the floor, a reminder of just how… rough the night had been.

Once dressed, Mark tugged his bucket hat lower over his head and pulled his face mask up, hiding as much of himself as he could. It had become second nature by now—another small routine in a life built around staying unseen.

He reached for the door quietly, careful not to make too much noise.

“You’re going now?”

His hand froze on the doorknob.

Mark turned around.

Y/N was awake now, sitting up against the headboard with the blanket loosely gathered around her. Her hair was messy from sleep, and her voice still carried that soft, groggy edge.

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said quietly.

She shook her head a little. “You didn’t.”

There was a pause between them.

Then she let out a small breath and spoke before he could.

“I get it, Mark,” she said, her voice gentle. “You don’t have to explain anything. I know this… this whole thing was kind of a mistake.”

His brows pulled together slightly. “I wouldn’t—”

“But it’s okay,” she continued, cutting him off softly. “Really, I knew that from the start.”

She looked down at the sheets for a second before meeting his eyes again.

“Even if we both knew this wasn’t going to last, I’m still glad it happened.”

Mark stayed silent, listening.

“You’ve saved me a lot of times,” she said with a small smile. “Your music, I mean. And… you too, in a weird way.”

That caught him off guard.

“I know I’m not the only one who feels like that,” she added. “There are tons of girls out there who probably think the same thing. But still… I wanted to say it.”

Mark rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to respond.

“I… haven’t heard something like that in a while,” he admitted quietly.

She tilted her head a little, studying his face.

“Yeah,” she said. “I kind of figured.”

He let out a small, awkward laugh under his breath.

“Your face gives it away.”

Mark didn’t argue.

“But listen,” she continued, her tone softer now. “Even if you’re exhausted… even if you mess up sometimes… you’re still someone a lot of people care about.”

She shrugged lightly.

“Maybe not the whole world. But to me, and to plenty of others, you are.”

Mark looked down for a moment, thinking.

“It’s okay to be a little rough around the edges sometimes,” she said. “You’re human. Everyone looks for something that makes things feel lighter for a while.”

Her gaze drifted toward the window before returning to him.

“I don’t know everything you’re dealing with,” she added. “But whatever it is… it’s okay to step outside of it once in a while.”

The room fell quiet again.

Mark didn’t trust himself to say much. He didn’t realize she could tell he was exhausted from everything even if she didn’t know the full story but either way, it made him feel lighter.

“…Thanks,” he finally murmured.

She gave him a small smile.

Then she nodded toward the door.

“You should go now,” she said gently. “You’ve got a whole group waiting for their leader.”

A beat passed before she added with a teasing hint in her voice,

“Wouldn’t want the leader and main rapper of NCT Dream disappearing on them again.”

Mark let out a small breath of laughter.

He looked at her one last time before turning back toward the door.

And this time, he opened it.

Stepping out into the quiet London morning, Mark noticed the streets were empty, no people, no cars, just the soft hum of the city waking up, his mind still back at Y/N’s words... He ran a hand through his hair, a small, tired grin tugging at his lips, and hailed a taxi.

Once inside, he gave the driver the address of his hotel, settling back into the seat. Nobody would believe this, he thought. The entire London stop, the brief, impulsive night with this fan—nobody would get it, nobody would understand it.

Looking back on it all, she was right. No matter how famous, how known, how talented he was, at the end of the day, he was just… human. A product of his environment, craving a lighter moment away from the constant autopilot of idol life. From juggling two units of NCT to being the leader of NCT Dream, from endless rehearsals to the pressure of being multi-talented and always on, he carried a lot on his shoulders. Anything that could cut through the fog, even a reckless, fleeting relationship with a fan, felt like a small rebellion against it all. It was normal for a 26 year old like him to do what he did but it was reckless and risky.

And yet… as reckless as it had been, he wouldn’t trade it for anything. The laughter, the chaos, the way she had pulled him into her world for just a few hours and pretty much the entire London stop, he could replay it over and over, and nobody could ever take that memory from him.

The taxi finally stopped in front of the hotel. Mark thanked the driver, handed over the fare, and stepped out, expecting to be scolded yet again. He braced himself for staff yelling at him for wandering on his own like last time but instead, all he saw were his members in the lobby, suitcases in hand, bodyguards hovering nearby.

Mark walked up to them.

“Hyung, you’re here,” Jisung said with wide-eyed relief, grabbing his sleeve.

“Where were you, hyung? We had to cover for you so the staff doesn’t get mad at you again,” Chenle added, bouncing slightly on his heels, his voice a mix of amusement and mild exasperation.

“Oh… Uh… I just decided to go sightseeing around London and, uh, maybe booked other places too,” Mark replied, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Hey, you’re bad at hiding, you know that, hyung,” Renjun said, raising an eyebrow, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “There’s definitely something that happened.”

“Yeah,” Jaemin chimed in, arms crossed, but his expression softened with a teasing grin. “You better explain to us later inside the plane.”

The plane… right. Their flight was in a few hours, and they couldn’t afford to be late for the next stop of the tour.

“Where is everybody else?” Mark asked, looking around for the rest of the members of the staff that were with them.

“Oh, they went out to get the other stuff, so we’ll just have to wait for them,” Jeno said, slumping against the wall, clearly trying not to laugh. “The van would arrive later anyway.”

“Right…” Mark muttered, still processing the playful interrogation from his younger members.

Haechan leaned in suddenly, grinning. “Don’t think we won’t tease you about this later. I already know a little something.”

Mark’s eyes widened. “Hyuck!”

“Relax, Melt,” Haechan said, smirking. “We’ve all done crazy stuff on tour before. 

“Yeah… just… try not to make it a habit.” Jeno added, still having the same speculation as the rest of the members.

Mark shook his head, a small laugh escaping despite him trying to hold it in. Somehow, even after all the chaos, he felt lighter just being around them.

That was when a black van appeared outside the hotel, the one SM had rented for the airport transfer. It was already waiting outside the morning streets of London and it was clear it was in a hurry. Then, just in the nick of time, the staff arrived, carrying the remaining bags and suitcases, glancing toward the van as they walked.

“Okay, everyone, let’s get moving,” one of the staff called. “The plane waits for no one. Chop chop, time’s ticking.”

With that, the group started getting out of the hotel with the bodyguards, suitcases in hand, heading toward the van. The hum of the city and the soft morning light framed the scene as everybody fell into their usual playful chaos, teasing and nudging one another as they prepared to leave London behind and on to the next stop.

Mark got into the van last, living up to his role as the leader. The other members were already settling into their seats, bags shoved beside their feet as they chatted quietly among themselves. He slipped into one of the last available seats, pulling the door closed behind him.

As the van began to move, Mark leaned back and let out a quiet breath.

His mind drifted, replaying everything that had happened during their entire UK stop.

Who would’ve thought that a single fan could make a tour stop more memorable than a crowd of twenty thousand?

He almost laughed to himself at the thought. It sounded ridiculous even in his own head. But he couldn’t deny it. Everything that had happened, from the fansign, to the first night, to the second, kept looping in his mind like a record he would want to repeat over and over again.

It felt like everything had happened in a single day, even though it had stretched across the entire May weekend. The entire stop, like a film he wished wouldn’t end.

The instant connection they felt in the fansign, the way they’d kissed in the rain inside her car after she dragged him out of the pub he was in with his manager after the first night. The reckless laughter, the drinking game that somehow led them all the way to third base, and then far beyond that, until they were tangled in the sheets of her king-sized bed in her Mayfair flat after the concert’s second night.

Somehow, his time with Y/N had become the main event of an otherwise another routine tour stop.

Then, the van eventually pulled into the airport drop-off lane.

Mark barely noticed until the door slid open and the cool air rushed in.

And then the noise hit.

Fans.

As usual, they were already in the airport, crowds gathered behind the barriers, voices rising into excited screams as cameras and phones lifted into the air shoving it right when everybody got out. Security quickly formed around the boys while staff guided them toward the entrance.

In an instant, he was back.

Back to the flashing cameras. Back to the shouting. Back to the endless rhythm of airports, hotels, rehearsals, stages.

Back to his life.

The life he always had.

For a moment, Mark wondered if the whole thing had even been real. The fansign, the rain, the car, the night in Mayfair, the king sized bed. It almost felt too surreal to have actually happened.

It was a brief escape. A reckless, impulsive weekend that helped him breathe for a second in the middle of a life that rarely slowed down and went around the clock.

Soon enough, they’d be flying again, another country, another city, another stage. Seven thousand miles away from London. Seven thousand miles away from her.

But even so… he didn’t think everything had been for nothing.

If anything, it reminded him of something simple, that beneath the schedules, the titles, and the expectations, he was still someone that seeks for things in life outside of being an idol, outside of music.

Sometimes… it was okay to live a little.

As he walked toward the terminal with the others, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Because no matter where the tour took him next…

karina x winter's brother! oc

word count: 1965 words

part of the series: unscripted

The makeup artist dusted highlighter across her cheekbones, but Karina barely noticed. Her phone buzzed on the counter, lighting up with Minseo’s message. She read it once, twice, before her reflection caught her grinning at nothing.

She quickly schooled her face, cheeks warming. Not now, she scolded herself. She had a schedule to keep, fans to think about. And yet, her thumb itched to type back.

“Unnie.”

Karina jolted, nearly dropping her phone. Giselle leaned over her shoulder, raising a brow. “Why are you smiling at your phone like that?”

Before Karina could answer, Ningning slid in from the other side, her curiosity already sparking. “Ooooh, did someone text you?” She tried to peek, but Karina tilted the screen away too fast.

“It’s nothing,” Karina said quickly, slipping the phone face down on the counter. “Just… our manager reminding us about the setlist.”

“Funny,” Giselle drawled, her grin sharp. “Manager-nim is right there.”

Their manager looked up from her own phone across the room, blinking. “Huh?”

Ningning gasped dramatically. “Then who is it?” She reached for the phone, but Karina slapped her hand away, her ears burning now.

“None of your business,” Karina muttered, though her reflection betrayed her with a small, helpless smile.

That only made Giselle and Ningning exchange a glance of pure mischief. Winter entered the scene and was just about to ask what was going on when the door opened. In walked Minseo with Wanda perched comfortably in his arm and a charger dangling from his other hand.

“You forgot your charger at my place, stupid,” he said flatly, tossing it to Winter.

Winter caught it with a sigh, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, thanks, Dad.” Her expression softened when she spotted Wanda. “You brought her? Hey, baby girl…” she cooed, scratching under the pug’s chin.

Minseo scoffed. “Unbelievable. You ditch the guy who took care of you when you couldn’t eat, talk, or walk… for a dog?”

Winter bit back a laugh, shooting him a side-eye. “No way you’re jealous of a dog. Besides—she’s still cuter than you.”

“That’s exactly why we found you in grandma's cabbage farm,” Minseo shot back without hesitation.

They were two seconds away from another round of bickering when his gaze drifted past her—catching sight of Karina chatting with Giselle and Ningning. His chest tightened. Color rushed to his cheeks before he quickly looked away, suddenly all too aware of how stupidly obvious he must look.

He shoved Wanda gently into Winter’s arms. “Fine, you can play with her. Careful with her belly.” His voice softened as he glanced down at the pug. “Daddy’ll be back, okay?”

And before Winter could make a comment, Minseo started toward Karina, trying—and failing—to play it cool.

He started walking toward where Karina stood with Giselle and Ningning. The moment the two girls spotted him, matching smirks flickered across their faces.

“Oh—uh, manager’s calling us,” Ningning announced a little too quickly.

“Yeah, urgent business,” Giselle added, tugging her away before Karina could protest.

And just like that, Karina was left alone—confused until a familiar voice broke through the air behind her.

“Hey.”

That low, raspy but smooth tone jolted her. She turned around to find Minseo standing there, tall enough to make her tilt her head back. He looked annoyingly put-together—black striped jacket, clean scent, the faintest trace of the earthy cedar cologne that made her pulse skip.

“Didn’t think I’d find you here,” he said, grin lazy but warm. “Good thing I showered first. Would’ve hated to meet the prettiest girl in L.A. looking like I just fought ten bears and lost.”

Karina blinked, caught between amusement and disbelief. “Ten bears?” she echoed, her lips twitching despite herself. “You really practiced that line, didn’t you?”

Minseo laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe. Depends—did it work?”

She rolled her eyes, trying to mask the warmth rising to her cheeks. “You get points for effort.”

But when she looked up again, he was still watching her with that same easy smile, and suddenly her practiced idol composure faltered for just a second.

“Anyway,” she said quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “What are you doing here?”

“Me? I had to give a certain loser her charger back ’cause she forgot it at my apartment,” he said casually. “Yeah, she came over. Only for Wanda.”

Karina blinked. “Minjeong was at your place?”

“Yeah,” Minseo replied, smirking. “Didn’t even say hi to me. Went straight to my dog like I was invisible.”

Karina laughed under her breath, the sound soft and genuine. “That sounds like her.”

“Right? I fed her dinner, she gives Wanda all the love. Unreal.”

She shook her head, amusement tugging at her lips. “Well, that’s what you get for competing with a dog.”

“Harsh,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically. “And here I thought you’d defend me.”

Karina tried to keep her expression neutral, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her. “I’m just saying—your dog’s hard to beat.”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly, voice lowering just enough to make her pulse jump. “Guess I’ll just have to find something else to make you take my side.”

Karina froze for a half-second, then laughed it off, waving a hand. “You sound way too confident for someone who just lost to a dog.”

He chuckled, the grin still there but softer now. “Guess so.” He rubbed the back of his neck, gaze dipping for a moment. “Just tired, honestly. Been training since after our hotel encounter and I’ve got a match later tonight.”

Her expression eased. “Oh and you still had time to drop by?”

“Yeah, well…” He shrugged, eyes glinting again but not as teasing as before. “My boss has this big thing planned for the show. I just hope it goes over well.” A pause, then that familiar smirk. “But hell, I’m Dray Woods. I’m sure they’ll execute it fine.”

Karina smiled at that — half amused, half impressed. “Dray Woods, huh? Still sounds weird hearing it in person.”

He grinned. “Weirder living it.”

Then, without meaning to, he let the mask slip just a little. “But fuck, it’s so frustrating sometimes,” he muttered, then caught himself. “Sorry. I mean—just… everything that comes with it.”

Karina tilted her head, watching him, "Like what?"

He hesitated, searching for the right word. “I dunno. People think it’s easy being loud, being the guy who breaks things and talks big. But that’s not all I am, you know? I put everything I have into this, and they still compare me to everyone who came before.” He let out a dry laugh. “I don’t wanna be the next anybody. I just wanna be the first Dray Woods.”

He paused, then gave a short laugh — the kind that sounded more tired than amused. “Guess I’ve been proving myself to somebody my whole life.”

Karina didn’t say anything at first. The air between them seemed to settle — quieter, softer. Then she smiled, the kind that curved just slightly at the corners.

“First of all,” she said gently, “I really admire how much you care about what you do. Most people just talk big about passion, but you actually live it.”

She hesitated for a beat, then added, “But you know, you don’t always have to prove yourself to anyone. Sometimes doing your best — for yourself — is already enough.”

Minseo blinked at what she had just said, such wise words, “Did idol life teach you that?” he asked.

The question hung in the air for a second — quiet, curious, but heavy enough to make her blink.

Karina looked down, tracing the edge of her thumb still processing what he had just asked.

“Maybe,” she said finally, voice softer now. “You learn a lot when every move you make gets watched, judged, or compared to someone else’s.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet his again — calm, but honest. “At some point, you figure out you can’t keep proving yourself to everyone. You’ll lose yourself trying.”

She smiled then, small but real. “So yeah. Maybe idol life did teach me that.”

For a second, he just looked at her — really looked at her.

The usual smirk was gone, replaced by something quieter, an easier smile. Respect, maybe. Or understanding.

“Guess that makes two of us,” he said under his breath, almost like it slipped out.

The air between them lingered for a moment — quiet, but not uncomfortable.

Before either of them could say something else, Minseo’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced down.

“@everyone Call time at 7:30 PM. Please come early.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, shit—it’s already seven.” He shoved the phone back into his jacket, a quick grin replacing whatever softness had been there seconds ago. “Gotta go. My boss'll kill me if I’m late.”

Karina chuckled. “Go. Don’t make me responsible for your career.”

He took a few steps toward the door before suddenly stopping mid-stride. “Oh right! Wanda…"

From across the room, Winter looked up, cradling the pug like a baby. “She’s fine. We were bonding.”

“Yeah, no,” Minseo said, walking over to scoop Wanda up in one practiced motion. “You’re a flight risk.”

“Rude,” Winter muttered, glaring at his back, earning a laugh from Karina before heading for the door again.

He lingered at the door, eyes finding hers again. “See you around, Rina. Try not to make that smile a habit — might give me ideas.”

The grin he left her with was trouble, and he knew it. Wanda tucked under his arm, he disappeared down the hall, leaving Karina’s pulse just a little too quick for her liking.

Karina blinked, her brain short-circuiting for half a second before she scoffed under her breath. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, a faint smile tugging at her lips anyway. She tried to pretend she didn't hear that but for some reason, it couldn't. That stupid line replayed in her head, uninvited, over and over — and, annoyingly, it still made her smile.

“Oh my god, you’re smiling.”

Karina nearly jumped. Giselle was back — phone out, camera already open, grin way too wide. Ningning trailed behind her, eyebrows raised like she already knew exactly what was going on.

“We leave for two minutes,” Giselle said, hands on her hips, “and suddenly you’re looking at your phone like it confessed its love for you.”

“I wasn’t—” Karina started, but Ningning’s gasp drowned her out.

“Minjeong,” Ningning called, “your brother’s got her smiling.”

Winter looked up from the couch. A beat. Then she shrugged, unimpressed. “Yeah? And?”

“That’s it? No reaction?” Giselle asked, almost offended.

Winter snorted. “It’s just a crush. She’ll be fine. He’s not that special.”

Karina choked. “A— a crush?”

“Mhm hm,” Winter told her, completely unbothered. “I’ve known him for twenty four years. He’s annoying and still eats cereal with a fork. You’ll get over it.”

Karina blinked, choking on her own words. “I do not like him,” she said quickly, voice firm, though her fingers twitched over her phone as if to hide the tiny smile threatening to escape.

Giselle burst into loud laughter. Ningning snorted, hiding her grin behind her hand.

Winter raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

Karina huffed, turning back to her phone, muttering under her breath, “I’m just… I just find him interesting, okay? That’s all.”

Karina let out a soft sigh. She told herself it was nothing, just a brief moment of amusement — someone charming, playful, and annoyingly confident. That was all.

And yet… she couldn’t stop thinking about that grin, that voice, the way he’d said her name like it mattered. Shaking her head, she muttered under her breath, “Unbelievable…”

And somehow, even telling herself it meant nothing made her smile again.

karina x winter's brother! oc

word count: 2016 words

part of the series: unscripted

Aespa’s van rolled through the streets, taking them to their Good Morning America appearance. Karina sat quietly, flanked by Winter, Giselle, and Ningning, with their managers and bodyguards filling the remaining seats.

Her mind, however, drifted back to Minseo. He’d worn the same clothes as last night at the hotel lounge, and the faint trail of earthy cedar cologne lingered in her memory. He probably thought I wouldn’t notice… or probably the fact he tried to cover that fact with cologne. A small, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at her lips. It was… entertaining, to say the least.

Then Karina remembered what Winter had said back at the gym a few days before their blind date, something about Minseo going by another name in wrestling. A stage name. What was it again? Dray Woods?

She unlocked her phone, thumb hovering for a second before she typed the name into Google.

It won’t hurt, right? It’s not like I like him. I’m just… curious.

The search results loaded, and instantly her screen filled with images of Minseo, but not the Minseo she’d sat across from at the blind date last night or bumped into in the hotel lounge this morning. This was him in the ring: intense, theatrical, larger than life, an amplified version of himself. And yet… somewhere behind the glare of the lights and the bravado, she could still make out traces of the guy who’d sheepishly complained about his stomach.

Her finger tapped on the first video thumbnail without thinking. It was a clip of him during a match, and she adjusted her earbuds before pressing play.

As the video rolled, Karina leaned in closer without realizing it. The crowd’s roar poured from her phone speakers, but all she could focus on was him, Kim Minseo, no, Dray Woods. Every time the camera caught him, her eyes sharpened, like her brain refused to look anywhere else.

He nearly had one opponent down, referee dropping to the mat, hand slapping once, twice, only for the third count to be cut off. Karina’s chest tightened, a little jolt of disappointment sparking through her before she even understood why. Why am I rooting for him? she thought, almost embarrassed.

Then the pace shifted, he caught another opponent, pulling him into a move she recognized. Her breath caught. She’d seen him practice that in the gym, sweaty and focused, but watching him do it there, under blinding lights, with thousands of fans screaming, it was different. It hit harder, looked bigger, like it belonged to someone more powerful than the Minseo she'd gone on that blind date with, Winter's older brother.

The referee slid down again, hand slapping the mat. One. Two. Karina’s breath stuck in her throat, three never came. The kick-out snapped her back, and she let out a groan under her breath, mirroring his own frustration on the screen.

He didn’t stop. He grabbed the wrestler’s arm, yanked him down, and locked him into a new hold she’d never seen before. The opponent’s face twisted, clawing for the ropes as his body bent at an unnatural angle. Karina winced, arms instinctively tightening around her phone. That has to hurt. For a second she thought it might be over, the guy looked seconds from giving up, but another wrestler crashed in, breaking the hold and tossing Dray out of the ring.

Karina sat back, realizing her pulse was still racing but with a hint of disappointment, there was no chance of him winning but it didn't calm her disappointment. She wasn’t supposed to feel like this. She didn’t even care about wrestling. And yet here she was, heart pounding for every near-win, every move, every look of frustration on his face. Watching him like this, larger than life, fighting like every moment mattered… she couldn’t look away.

And maybe that was what unsettled her most, it wasn’t just the match, the lights, the noise. It was him. The way he carried himself even in frustration, how he pushed harder every time he got knocked down. It wasn’t the Minseo who constantly asked her if she was okay and confortable or drowned himself in cologne, it was something bigger, sharper. But underneath it all, she could still see the same guy who, for some reason, threw flirty remarks at her or treated her like the lady she is during the blind date.

Her lips pressed into a line as the crowd chanted his name through the tiny speakers. For a second, her chest swelled with something she didn’t want to name. No. Don’t even think about it. This is dangerous.

Because she knew better. She had responsibilities, fans who trusted her, a career that didn’t allow mistakes like… this. Letting herself get caught up in someone like him, even just emotionally, was already too close to the line. There was no way, Kim Minseo, Dray Woods, Winter's brother, or whoever he was, can't, no, shouldn't even make her feel this deeply but for some reason, it didn't work, she felt attached to the guy.

Karina quickly locked her phone, tucking it into her lap like she’d just hidden something she wasn’t supposed to be holding. She straightened her shoulders, glancing out the van window at the blur of Los Angeles. I’m just curious. That’s all it is. Curiosity. Nothing more.

But no matter how firmly she tried to convince herself, her pulse was still racing.

“Unnie?” Winter’s voice piped up from behind her, making Karina flinch and nearly drop her phone. She scrambled to lock the screen, but Winter had already leaned over her shoulder.

“…Were you just watching Minseo oppa?”

Karina blinked, feigning innocence. “No? Why would I—”

Winter smirked knowingly, tilting her head. “Don’t lie. I saw the back tattoo. You can’t mistake that.”

Karina froze for a beat, heat crawling up her neck before she forced a scoff. “You’re imagining things. I was just… scrolling.”

Winter leaned back with a little laugh, eyes glinting. “Mhm. Sure. Scrolling through Minseo oppa’s highlights. Got it. But… just in case you are, unnie, maybe don’t go digging into his pre-WWE stuff.”

Karina frowned.

Winter hesitated, lips twitching. “They’re, uh… hard to explain. You’ll see what I mean if you ever find it.”

What does she mean by that? Karina’s brow knit slightly, but before she could ask, the van rolled to a stop. The sudden shift jolted her back to reality, Good Morning America was waiting, the cameras, the fans. Whatever Winter meant would have to stay unanswered for now. She slipped her phone into her bag, and straightened her posture. Jimin, the curious girl disappeared, Karina the idol stepped forward.

“You forgot Wanda? Seriously?” Tyler asked, voice flat as he leaned against the locker room wall. “Didn’t you say she’s basically your daughter?”

Wanda was curled up on Minseo’s lap, tail flicking lazily while he stroked her fur. “I know, it’s so unlike me. But come on, I ate a glazed donut during a date, like, who does that? And it wasn’t until this morning I remembered I left Wanda with Mrs. Webster—”

He stopped cold, eyes widening. “…Did I just say date?”

Tyler blinked once, slow. “Yep. Pretty sure you did.”

“Shit.”

Tyler tilted his head, deadpan. “So there is someone. Knew it. I’d clap for you, but…” He gestured vaguely at Minseo’s panicked face. “…seems like you’re already suffering enough.”

“Listen, Tyler. You can’t tell anyone. If this gets out, I’ll be eaten alive.”

Tyler shrugged. “It’s cool, man. As long as it’s not a trash can you dressed up for dinner, I won’t judge." he narrowed his eyes, dramatic. “ …Oh God, was it?”

“No!” Minseo snapped, then groaned. “I went out with Karina. The Karina. From aespa. The idol. Who also happens to be your little sister’s bandmate.”

“…Who?”

Minseo stared at him, scandalized. “You don’t know aespa? Oh right… you don’t listen to K-pop.”

“I do know aespa,” Tyler said, tone flat as ever. “The group your sister’s in, right?”

“Yes, yes, them.”

“And?”

“And? They’re a big deal, Tyler! Especially in Korea. Okay, let me explain it to you in Western terms. You know the main pop girls, right? Taylor Swift, Sabrina Carpenter, Olivia Rodrigo, Chappell Roan, Tate McRae, Ariana Grande, Charli XCX, basically all the main pop girls. That’s aespa. And Karina, their leader, is one of Korea’s 4th Gen It girls, like right up there with the big dogs.”

Tyler shrugged, deadpan. “So? She’s still a person. Nothing wrong with going out with her. I mean…” He gave Minseo a look. “…unless you’re telling me this Karina girl bites, I don’t see the problem. Now if it was Sabrina Carpenter, then I’d panic.”

Minseo ran a hand through his hair, still tense. “Look, okay, maybe I panicked a little. But…” He leaned back in his chair with a crooked grin, trying to sell his own lie. “…didn’t regret it though. She’s hot.”

Tyler blinked at him, face unreadable. “…You’re gaslighting yourself right now.”

“Hey, if it works, it works.” Minseo shot back, smirk unshaken.

Tyler glanced at his phone. “I gotta go, man. Production briefing with Tony and the EVPs.” “Mr. Khan,” Minseo repeated, grinning like the name was a joke. “Tell him I’m doing fine without him. Not that he’s keeping up.”

Tyler gave him a deadpan look. “Will do. I’m sure he’ll take it very seriously.” He ruffled Wanda’s head once more before heading out of the arena.

Minseo tugged out the earbud still hanging in his ear, the music cutting off mid-beat. Rich Man by aespa. Their newest release. He caught himself smirking, shaking his head as the lyrics echoed in his mind.

“Your part’s got me thinking about you, Rina,” he muttered under his breath, amused. “What the hell are you doing to me, Yu Jimin?”

He decides to AirDrop the song to her. He twirled his phone between his fingers, Wanda curled up against his leg. The thought had been buzzing in his head since breakfast, Karina’s laugh, the way she listened in while he talked. He could still smell the cedar cologne he showered on himself for wearing the same clothes as last night, and somehow that just made him grin. Did she notice that?

He opened her contact. His thumbs hovered.

Too forward.

Delete.

Too safe.

Delete.

He sighed, ruffling his own hair. “Come on, Minseo. You survived your former boss and his fanclub called the EVPs. You can survive texting a girl.”

He smirked, hit send before he could chicken out, then leaned back like he hadn’t just spent ten minutes overthinking a single text. Wanda gave a small bark, as if unimpressed.

“What? That’s smooth. It's subtle.” He scratched her ears. “Besides… she’ll answer. I hope she will…"

Then, a stagehand poked his head in the area he's in. “Minseo, ring walkthrough in five.”

Minseo glanced down at Wanda, still curled up in his lap. He sighed, scratching behind her ears. “Guess it’s work time, Wanda.”

Carefully, he slipped her into her harness and handed the strap to a waiting staffer. His voice softened, serious for once. “Please keep an eye on her. She’s family and please be gentle, her eyes are delicate, and she’s expecting.”

The staffer nodded, already smitten with the tiny dog. “Don’t worry, we got her.”

“Minseo! Ring walkthrough!” the producer, this time, called down the hallway.

He rolled his shoulders, the swagger settling back into his step as he started toward the ring. The rehearsal space wasn’t as glamorous as the show, just harsh arena lights and quiet chatter echoing off the empty seats, but he didn’t care. He was already grinning, his mind replaying a different kind of sound: Karina’s voice, looping in his head like it had claimed a corner of him he didn’t realize was available.

By the time he pushed open the curtain, he wasn’t sure what he was walking into first, another WWE ring, or something that felt a lot like trouble. Or even the fact that his mind was all about a certain idol rather than the show later tonight.

karina x winter's brother! oc

word count: 2369 words

part of the series: unscripted A/N: Back at it again. I apologize for the long update, I was busy with a lot of things, pls enjoy this chapter

Minseo groaned as he stretched under the hotel sheets, still feeling the aftermath of last night’s donut fiasco. My tummy feels so heavy… I don’t even want to move, he muttered, swinging his legs off the bed.

Normally, he’d be bunking with the rest of the WWE roster in their designated hotel, but last night, exhaustion had won. The closest hotel to Karina’s café seemed the safest bet, he hadn’t been in any condition to drive back to his LA apartment.

Rolling onto the edge of the bed, he reached for his backpack, hoping to find his lactase pills. No dice. Stupid. Why didn’t I bring those? How was I supposed to know that donut had milk in it?

His phone buzzed. A glance at the screen revealed a new email from management. With a sigh, he opened it.

TODAY’S SCHEDULE — DRAY WOODS

1:00 PM: Production briefing (mandatory)

3:00 PM: Ring walkthrough/rehearsal

7:30 PM: Call time for show

No interviews. No media obligations. No sponsor meet-and-greets. Minimal contact. Exactly the way he liked it.

“Perfect,” he muttered under his breath, leaning back against the headboard. A day to myself… mostly.

For a moment, he allowed himself a small smile, thinking back to last night. Not the donut incident. Not the bet. Not even the headache of dealing with management. He thought of Karina, how she had laughed, the way she had studied him with curious eyes, and the unexpected thrill of just… talking.

It was rare, this feeling. And for once, he didn’t mind that the rest of the world didn’t see it.

He checked his phone again and noticed a message waiting for him, from none other than Karina. His chest tightened, half nerves, half excitement, as he opened it.

He left the Messages app and was about to lock his phone when another notification popped up, this time from Instagram. The sender’s username made him smirk: none other than his best friend, Tyler Morgan. In the ring, everyone knew him as Richard Goldstein, a nonchalant white boy from Connecticut with knightly good looks, golden hair, blue eyes, and the kind of face that screamed “storybook cavalry.” No wonder his whole gimmick was the shining knight in contrast to Dray Woods’ gritty, post-apocalyptic survivor persona.

Tyler was six months older, but their careers had run almost parallel. Despite Minseo’s move from AEW to WWE, they’d never fallen out of touch. Both had stacked resumes: each won Match of the Year 2023 for their brutal unsanctioned clash at All In, both were once breakout stars in a massive faction, and their rivalry still got called one of AEW’s best storylines. Tyler, Richard, is currently the youngest AEW World Champion at 26, while Minseo had carved his own path: King of the Ring 2025, Mr. Money in the Bank 2025, and (if things went his way) a future world champion in the making.

Tyler was also the complete opposite him, reserved, quiet, observant but it was a great way since their energies seem to balance each other.

He tapped the DM. Tyler had replied to his IG story.

Then, another message, this time not from Karina, not from Tyler, but the last person he expected. His younger sister, Minjeong.

He glanced at the time on his phone. 08:30. Guess I gotta get back to my apartment ASAP. But before checking out, I need a shower first.

It took longer than he’d admit to drag himself out of bed, but eventually he stepped into the bathroom, turning the tap until the tub filled. Lukewarm water, rose petals scattered across the surface. When he slid in, the warmth wrapped around him, almost like a spa day, something soft, something foreign.

Then his eyes fell to the water. To his body beneath it. Ink winding across his arm and back, scars cutting through the artwork he’d spent years carving into himself. Five years of AEW brutality, steel and glass and barbed wire leaving permanent signatures.

The memories bled in uninvited. The roar of the crowd. The commentators screaming his name. The dull, sickening crack of impact.

Once, he lived for that sound. For the chaos.

But that very same company gave him something else, the weight. Dragging his bags alone through airports after giving them blood. Finding his own way to hotels while rookies with the right friends got cars waiting curbside. Another scar, another bruise, another flight.

He sank a little deeper into the water, petals brushing against ink and skin alike. They treated him like luggage.

He exhaled, letting the thought drift. Not here, not now. At least he was somewhere better.

Sliding out of the tub, he hummed that Rihanna song that had been stuck in his head for days. The towel against his skin felt almost luxurious, the robe even more so. For once, he let himself enjoy it.

Okay. Hotel lounge next. Breakfast. Normal.

Then he froze. “…Shit.”

He stared at the empty chair where his duffel bag should’ve been.

“I don’t have any clothes.”

No spare clothes. No clean shirt. No plan.

Which meant one thing. He was about to walk into the hotel lounge: tattoos, robe-long hair, and all, in the exact same clothes he’d worn last night. It’s okay, Minseo. Just drown it in perfume. But still, ew. Why didn’t I bring clothes? How was I supposed to know I’d end up checking in here? Stupid glazed donut wrecking my stomach.

He grabbed his phone, wallet, and room key, muttering under his breath as he sprayed himself twice with cologne. Good enough. Wrestlers had walked into arenas smelling like blood and beer, he could survive the shame of recycled jeans.

By the time he stepped into the lounge, the smell of fresh breakfast filled the air, tempting him toward a full-course meal, but his stomach firmly said no. Just coffee. That’s it.

Then he glanced at the menu. Eggs Benedict. His favorite. He loved Eggs Benedict the way he loved hardcore matches. His mouth watered at the thought.

No. Don’t. Your stomach still hasn’t forgiven the glazed donut.

It wasn’t just temptation, he felt trapped by it. The hollandaise sauce practically called his name. Who could resist? Who wouldn’t dive straight in?

In the end, reason won. He settled for a Cobb salad and a hot Americano, sighing as he set the menu down. At least his stomach, and his dignity, were safe.

As his order finally arrived, he dug in, still hating himself for not getting the Eggs Benedict, but, well, his stomach wasn’t fully ready for that indulgence today.

He lifted his gaze from the plate for a moment… and froze.

There she was. Baseball cap, face mask, a manager by her side. What was she doing here?

Then it hit him. Right, he had checked into the same hotel as her. Of course he’d see her. Still… he wasn’t ready to admit how much his heart did a little flip at the sight.

Seeing her brought last night rushing back, the blind date, the conversation, the way she had laughed. If he was being honest, it had been… enjoyable. And he couldn’t deny he was already looking forward to the next one… unless, of course, he decided to make the first move himself.

He tore his eyes back down to his salad, stabbing a piece of lettuce he didn’t even taste. She was right there, a few tables over, hidden under a cap and mask with her manager keeping a close eye.

Not the time. Not the place. He knew that.

But then, halfway through his coffee, the manager stood, phone pressed to his ear, and stepped out of the lounge.

Now it was just her.

Minseo’s pulse kicked up. Do I? Don’t I?

By the time his brain caught up with his legs, he was already standing, crossing the floor like he belonged there. Same clothes, bed hair half-tamed, and a thousand excuses running through his head—none of them good.

He balanced his Cobb salad and Americano, taking a deep breath before approaching her table. “Hey, never thought I’d see you here. Guess the universe really liked our blind date.”

He grinned, sliding into the seat across from her. “Your manager won’t mind, right?” he added casually, tugging lightly at the collar of his shirt.

Her head shot up, eyes widening behind the mask. “Minseo?? What are you doing here? Don’t you have… I don’t know… things to do?”

“Wow, trying to kick me out already? Just so you know, my work starts after lunch, so I don’t think you could make me leave even if you wanted to. As for why I’m here… let’s just say I was hoping I’d run into you. Looks like the universe delivered. Kidding… or maybe not.”

He took a careful sip of coffee, internally cringing at the thought that she could see he hadn’t changed. “Honestly? Upset stomach. Wasn’t about to drive all the way back to my apartment feeling like that.”

Karina’s eyes narrowed playfully behind her mask. “Knew it… what the hell happened?”

He shrugged, trying to look casual. “Oh, you know… the medicine’s lowkey acting up.” Not the glazed donut, he thought, keeping the rest to himself.

“What about you?” he continued, switching gears. “Karina of Aespa, chilling in the lounge instead of having staff deliver your breakfast?”

Her eyes flicked down at his shirt, then back to his face, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her mask. “Guess I like doing things the old-fashioned way sometimes. And… maybe it’s nice to see a familiar face.”

“Damn, guess that makes me the familiar face, huh? Morning,” he said, leaning back slightly. “Oh, and Minjeong told me you fell asleep in the van a while ago… so yeah, don’t ask how I know.” He smirked, teasing lightly. “But seriously, you okay?”

Karina’s smile widened a little under her mask, though a faint blush warmed her cheeks. “I’m fine… just a little tired. Travel’s always fun,” she said, her voice teasing right back. “But it’s… nice to have someone to complain to about it.”

“So… I guess we should order your food. You shouldn’t hit the road on an empty stomach,” he said, leaning back slightly.

“Oh, I already told my manager what I want. She ordered for both of us—it should be here in a few minutes,” Karina replied with a small smile.

Minseo smirked. “Damn… wish I had a manager. Must be nice to have someone doing stuff for you. The only manager I’ve got at work is the one who decides my matches.”

“You guys don’t have managers?” she asked, tilting her head.

“We do,” he said, shrugging, “just not the kind you’re thinking of. They only call you to talk about the flow of the show and pretty much leave you alone once you finish your job. So yeah… they don’t usually follow me around like yours do.”

Karina chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Yeah… it has its perks. But I get it—it’s probably nice to have a little freedom sometimes too.”

“Yeah, freedom’s nice,” Minseo said, leaning back and stirring his coffee, “but honestly… it’d be nice to have someone looking out for me. Reminding me of stuff, making sure I don’t forget things. That’s just me—I’ve got a terrible memory. And I guess… I still feel a little like a foreigner sometimes, even after living here for almost eight years.”

“Eight years?” Karina raised an eyebrow under her mask, genuinely surprised.

“Minjeong didn’t tell you?” he asked, smirking a little. “Oh, right… I moved before you guys debuted. It was right after CSAT 2017, so I was eighteen. Finished the rest of high school here.”

Karina nodded slowly, tilting her head. “Wow… I had no idea. No wonder you’ve got that… mix of familiarity and mystery vibe going on.” She smiled faintly, her eyes lighting up behind the mask.

Minseo chuckled, a little self-conscious. “Mysterious, huh? I’ll take it… though most people just call it forgetting where I put my wallet and having to schedule what time to fetch Wanda.”

“Wanda?” Karina asked, tilting her head.

“My dog. Got her when I first got into pro wrestling… she’s my daughter,” he said, smiling softly. Then his face suddenly went pale. “Oh my gosh, no… oh God… I forgot to—”

Before he could finish, someone entered the lounge. A middle-aged woman in glasses, dark circles under her eyes, carrying a small Pug in her arms, scanned the room. Her grumbled expression immediately fixed on him as she strode over.

“Minseo! There you are! How come I had to find out from Tyler of all people where you were? Didn’t you say you were going to get your dog back last night? I called you so many times! I was wondering why you never came… and now she’s crying because of you!”

Minseo jumped to his feet, guilt hitting him immediately. Wanda, cradled in the woman’s arms, looked like she was about to cry. “Mrs. Webster! I… I am so, so sorry! I completely forgot to take Wanda back. My stomach hurt last night, and I wasn’t in any condition to drive. I promise it won’t happen again.”

"You better," the woman storms out of the lounge still with her annoyed expression

He gently took Wanda from her neighbor’s hands, holding her close. “Wanda… I’m so, so sorry. Please forgive Daddy, okay?” he murmured, hugging the little dog like she was a baby, rocking her gently to comfort her.

Wanda sniffled softly, nuzzling against him, and Minseo let out a small, relieved laugh. “Yeah… that’s better. I’ll never forget you again, I swear. I’ll even bring you to work to make up for it.”

He glanced over at Karina. “Rina… I’m sorry, I really want to talk more, but—”

His words caught in his throat as her manager returned to the table. He let out a mock sigh, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “I’ll see you, Rina. And… tell Minjeong I hope she doesn’t eat all the chocolate I'll give her,” he added with a wink, keeping it teasing but harmless.

Cradling Wanda in his arms, he walked out of the lounge, leaving a mix of laughter and exasperation behind. He glanced back once, catching Karina’s eyes just for a moment before turning away, a small, crooked smile on his face. She’s very interesting, he thought, already looking forward to the next time he was going to see her.

karina x winter's brother! oc

word count: 4596 words

part of the series: unscripted

aespa was in the thick of rehearsals, running through choreography for their upcoming award show performance. The dressing room was filled with the sound of music bleeding from the practice hall, stylists rushing around, and the members chatting in between takes.

Karina was fixing a stray hair near the mirror when her phone buzzed on the table.

Unknown Number.

She frowned, unlocking her phone.

Karina stared at the screen for a moment, lips pressing into a thin line. Of course it was him. The audacity of pulling her schedule from Minjeong, the casual way he just assumed she’d say yes, and yet… she couldn’t deny the tiny spark of amusement curling in her chest.

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, cool expression, unreadable eyes, but her members would’ve caught the faint twitch of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Karina let out the smallest huff, half a laugh, half disbelief. He was bold, bold in a way that should’ve annoyed her. But instead, it left her curious.

She locked her phone, shaking her head before slipping it back onto the table. Giselle, who’d been watching from across the room, narrowed her eyes.

“Who was that?” she asked, smirking.

Karina only replied coolly, “No one important,” before heading back toward the practice hall.

But her hand brushed her phone again, and deep down, she knew she’d already made her decision.

The hotel was quiet, too quiet after the last of the day’s promotions had finally wrapped. Karina paused for a moment, listening to the soft breaths of her sleeping members before quietly zipping up her hoodie. She tugged on her baseball cap and face mask, careful not to make a sound, and slipped out of the room.

She double-checked the AirDrop location Minseo had sent her. Luckily, the café was just a short walk from the hotel. That eased one worry off her mind, transportation.

As she approached, she saw him standing outside, leaning slightly against the café’s railing. Minseo was dressed casually, a loose t-shirt, baggy pants, and scuffed Converse shoes, but there was a tension in him that made him impossible to ignore.

The moment his eyes landed on her, he froze. Karina caught the faint glint of panic before he hastily dropped the cigarette in his hand, grinding it under his Converse to snuff it out. His hands fidgeted slightly, almost apologetic, as if caught red-handed.

Karina’s chest tightened with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. He’s trying way too hard to look casual, she thought, adjusting her cap and walking closer.

“Hey,” she said softly, letting the greeting hang in the crisp night air.

Minseo straightened, exhaling like he’d been holding it in, his usual cocky smirk starting to creep back in. “Hey,” he replied, voice low but steady. “You made it.”

Karina tilted her head slightly, observing him. Even like this, he’s… impossible to read, she thought. Yet, despite herself, she felt a small flutter of anticipation for what this night might bring.

Karina stepped closer, the warm glow from the café spilling onto the quiet street. Minseo gestured toward the entrance, an eyebrow raised, trying, and failing, to look completely relaxed.

“After you,” he said, his tone teasing, but there was a subtle attentiveness in the way he held the door open.

Karina allowed a small smile. “Thanks,” she replied, stepping inside. The air smelled of coffee, baked pastries, and soft vanilla, the kind of scent that made her shoulders loosen almost immediately.

He guided her to a small corner booth, subtly choosing the seat with the cozier lighting and slightly angled from the main path. “Better view, less noise,” he said casually, as if it were no big deal.

Karina blinked, a faint flush rising to her cheeks. “You… thought of that?”

“Of course,” he said, shrugging lightly, smirk tugging at his lips. “I just think idols like you would prefer cozy places like this."

They slid into the booth, the dim lighting shielding them from prying eyes. For a moment, neither spoke, letting the hum of the café settle around them. Karina fiddled with her hoodie strings while Minseo leaned slightly on his elbow, casual but attentive, his gaze never wandering too far.

“So…” he finally said, a hint of mischief threading his voice. “You actually came. Didn’t run away in the middle of the night?”

Karina raised an eyebrow, a small, dry smile tugging at her lips. “Run away? From a blind date my friend’s brother set up? Not really my style.”

Minseo’s smirk widened. “Good. Because I was planning on making it… memorable. In a good way, not like a WWE chaotic mess.”

Karina chuckled softly, relaxing just a fraction more. “And what exactly does a ‘memorable’ night look like for you?”

He leaned back, scanning her face as if memorizing it. “Honestly? Simple. Good company, good conversation… and maybe figuring out if you’re as interesting as everyone says.” His gaze lingered longer than necessary, warm but teasing. Karina felt that familiar flutter again. They headed toward the counter, the glow of the pastry display catching Karina’s eye. Rows of colorful desserts lined the shelves, but she hesitated, suddenly aware of the small knot forming in her chest. Ordering here wasn’t like back home. Her English was passable, sure, but in public settings, especially without a manager or Giselle by her side, she always second-guessed herself.

Minseo glanced at her, catching the flicker of hesitation in her expression. His tone softened, casual but sure.

“I’ll order for us,” he said, stepping a little closer as if to take the weight off her shoulders. “What do you want?”

Karina fiddled with her sleeve before nodding slightly. “Green tea is fine… and the jelly over there too.” She gestured discreetly toward the corner of the display case.

“Got it,” he said smoothly, no hesitation at all. “Green tea and jelly for you… and I’ll grab one for myself.”

As the barista approached, Minseo leaned on the counter with practiced ease, rattling off the order in quick, fluent English. Karina stood beside him, oddly relieved by how natural he made it look, like it wasn’t even a question that he’d step in for her.

When the order was done, he turned back, slipping the receipt into his pocket before she could even think about offering. “Don’t worry about it. Tonight’s on me,” he said, his grin playful but his tone firm enough that she knew not to argue.

Karina blinked, caught between wanting to protest and the warmth creeping into her chest. “You didn’t have to…” she started.

“Yeah, I did,” he cut in lightly, his eyes glinting. “What kind of guy makes someone stress over a drink order on a first date?”

She let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head as they stepped aside to wait. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”

“Maybe,” he said with a smirk. “But I’ll admit, never with someone who makes green tea sound that… complicated.”

Karina rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips curved up despite herself. For the first time that night, she felt the tension in her shoulders ease, not just because of the café’s warmth, but because Minseo had noticed, quietly stepped in, and made it easier without making her feel small.

He returned to the table with their drinks balanced carefully in his hands. Setting them down, he slid the jelly cup closer to her before pulling her chair out, a small, almost old-fashioned gesture that made Karina blink in quiet surprise.

“Thanks,” she murmured, sitting down.

“No problem.” He dropped into the seat across from her, leaning back casually, one arm draped over the chair as if he owned the space. “So… anything else I should know about you? Besides all the idol stuff. I mean, I can just pull up Google for that.”

Karina raised an eyebrow, lips quirking. “And you haven’t already?”

Minseo smirked, not denying it. “Maybe. But I’d rather hear it from you. Google doesn’t know your favorite color, or what food you’ll fight someone for, or—” he gestured vaguely “—the small things that actually matter.”

She stirred her tea slowly, buying herself a moment. “What do you want me to talk about?”

“I don’t know? Anything?” He leaned forward now, chin resting on his hand, giving her his full attention. “Favorite color, likes and dislikes, random quirks… surprise me.”

Karina hesitated, but his expression was open—teasing, yes, but not pushing too hard. Finally, she let out a quiet laugh. “Alright. My favorite color is navy blue. Not black, though I know everyone assumes it is.”

Minseo grinned. “See, I knew it. You don’t give off ‘all-black wardrobe’ vibes. More like… low-key elegant. Navy makes sense.”

She blinked, a little taken aback at the quick observation. “That’s… oddly specific.”

“What can I say? I’m observant,” he said with a mock shrug, though there was a flicker of sincerity in his eyes. “Okay, next, food. What’s the one thing that can fix your entire day?”

Karina tapped her finger against the table, pretending to think, before answering simply, “Pink Pringles.”

Minseo blinked, then sat up straight, his jaw dropping like she’d just revealed state secrets. “Pink Pringles? Holy shit—no way. I love that one too.” His voice was loud enough that a couple of heads turned, but he didn’t even notice. “You’re telling me that’s your go-to snack?”

Karina tried, and failed to hide her smile at his genuine shock. “Yeah. Why? Surprised?”

“Surprised? I was devastated when I moved here and realized they don’t sell Pink Pringles in America. I swear, I checked every supermarket, gas station, everything. Nothing.” He threw his hands up dramatically. “It felt like betrayal.”

Karina blinked. “They… don’t sell it here?”

“No!” He leaned forward like it was a crime worth reporting. “You can get the sour cream, the original, even the barbecue, but the Pink one? Forget it. I was so mad I considered smuggling them in my luggage from Korea.”

That finally broke her composure, she laughed, shoulders shaking slightly as she covered her mouth with her hand. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous but right,” he shot back, grinning at her laugh like it was the only win that mattered. “Next time you fly in, you should sneak in a stash. For both of us.”

Karina shook her head, still amused. “That’s illegal, you know.”

“So is me living in a country without Pink Pringles,” he said smoothly, leaning back with a satisfied smirk.

Karina tilted her head, lips tugging into the faintest smile. “Pink Pringles, huh… I didn’t know you were into the butter caramel flavor.”

“Hell yeah I am,” Minseo replied instantly, like it was a matter of pride. “Even though I’m lactose intolerant and I can’t have butter, or caramel, or both.”

Her brows lifted, amused. “Really? You eat butter caramel even with lactose intolerance?”

“Yup.” He grinned, shameless. “It’s worth the trip to the bathroom for a short-term taste of the flavor.”

Karina let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head at the absurd honesty. “That’s… oddly admirable?”

Before she could tease him more, the staff appeared with their orders. A small glass bowl of fruit jelly for Karina, and a glazed donut for Minseo. He wasted no time, biting into it the second the plate touched the table.

“You do know that has milk in it, right?” Karina asked, raising a brow as she scooped her jelly.

He froze mid-bite, eyes widening. “Wait, what? Seriously? I don’t see any milk in here.”

“It’s in the dough,” she explained patiently, clearly entertained, “and the glaze too. That’s how they make it.”

There was a beat of silence before he muttered under his breath, “…Fuck.”

Karina stifled a laugh behind her hand, watching his expression shift from denial to panic.

Minseo set the donut down like it betrayed him. “You don’t get it. I wasn’t scared of the lactose part, I’ve handled that. But on a date?” He dragged a hand down his face. “Man, I’m about to go down as the dude who ditched Karina of aespa because of dairy.”

This time, Karina couldn’t hold back her laugh. It bubbled out of her before she could stop herself, light and genuine. “You’re ridiculous.”

Minseo glanced at her, caught off guard by how pretty her laugh sounded, and for a moment, his panic dulled into something else, something warmer.

Minseo leaned back, wiping his fingers with a napkin. “Well… I just hope I don’t end up shitting myself in the middle of our date later,” he muttered under his breath, half to himself.

Karina let out a quiet laugh despite trying to hold it in. “Wow. Real smooth.”

He grinned at her reaction but before he could double down, she tilted her head, her tone shifting just slightly. “So… about that bet. You and Minjeong seem to keep bringing it up.”

His smirk widened knowingly. “Ah, that bet. What about it? You want to know how it even started, right?”

Her eyes narrowed. “How did you—”

“I can tell.” He cut her off with a smug shrug. “It’s written all over your face.”

Karina blinked at him, half-annoyed, half-curious. “…Okay, fine. So what happened?”

“Alright,” he began, settling into the story with exaggerated confidence. “So, Minjeong comes over to my place when you guys first landed here. It’s kind of our thing. If we’re in America, she crashes at mine. If I’m in Korea, I stay at the family house. Tradition.”

Karina nodded, quietly amused at how casual he made it sound.

“So while she was there, we ended up playing WWE 2K25. She swore she could beat me, like, dead serious about it. Funniest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s like watching someone challenge LeBron James to a one-on-one basketball game. Entertaining, but… doomed.”

Karina covered her mouth to hide a laugh.

“So,” he continued, leaning forward, “we agreed: loser has to obey the winner for two days. Naturally, I destroyed her. Like, no contest. Which meant she was stuck following every single thing I said. And let me tell you… I made those two days count.”

“And what about now?” Karina asked, eyebrow arched.

Minseo glanced dramatically at his watch. “Funny you ask… because as of—” he tapped the screen, then gasped theatrically. “—11:59. Boom. The bet is officially over.”

He leaned back with a satisfied grin. “Guess I gotta let my little sister off the hook. Shame, really. I was just starting to run out of embarrassing ideas.”

Karina shook her head, lips curling into a reluctant smile. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but at least I’m entertaining,” he shot back, eyes glinting. “Besides, it’s thanks to that bet that I get to talk to a gorgeous girl like you. Honestly… it’s nice. I don’t really get to talk to people my age much. Everybody in the locker room are a bunch of grown men.”

Karina tilted her head, sensing the subtle shift in his tone. “You don’t hang out with them?”

“I mean, I do,” he said with a shrug, fiddling with the edge of his napkin. “But it’s different, y’know? They’ve got families, kids, their own worlds outside the ring. I’m just… kind of floating between them. Sometimes it feels like I’m a kid within a bunch of adults.”

Her expression softened, the corner of her lips tugging upward in something bittersweet. “I get that. We’re always surrounded by people too, staff, managers, cameras everywhere. But it’s not the same as actually talking to someone.”

“Exactly.” His eyes flicked to hers, a little more earnest now. “Everyone thinks our lives are so… loud, so full. But it’s weirdly quiet when it’s just you.”

Karina let out a soft laugh, almost to herself. “You’re not wrong.”

“But you have people that can ground you, right? You have Minjeong, Giselle, Ningning, right?”

Karina nodded, a tired but genuine smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. Even though being the leader can get exhausting, I love them. I care about them so much. They keep me human, you know? They remind me I’m not just… ‘Karina.’ I’m still Jimin to them.”

She tilted her head curiously. “What about you? You have at least one person, right?”

“Of course I do,” he said, leaning back. “But he’s not with the company I work in now. He’s with the company I used to work for, but even after I left, we kept in touch.”

Karina raised a brow. “Company?”

“Right, you don’t watch wrestling,” Minseo chuckled, holding up his hands. “Okay, so… think of it like this. There are two wrestling companies. One’s called AEW, basically All Elite Wrestling, it’s kind of like the hot, new company with all this freedom and hype. That’s where I started, I mean technically I started in the indies, its basically a requirement you have to have before getting into a company but yeah, AEW was the first company I signed with. And then there’s WWE, it’s basically the giant, the one everyone knows about, like… the SM Entertainment of wrestling.”

“Ohhh,” Karina nodded slowly, her curiosity piqued. “So you moved from the smaller one to the big one?”

“Exactly,” he said, pointing at her like she nailed it. “AEW gave me my start, and honestly, I’ll always respect them for that. But WWE… it’s a different beast. Way bigger crowds, more eyes on you, more pressure too. It’s not just wrestling, it’s storytelling, entertainment, all wrapped together.”

She leaned forward slightly, chin resting on her hand. “And your friend stayed in the first company?”

“Yeah,” Minseo nodded. “He’s still killing it there, actually one of their rising stars. I thought when I left we’d drift apart, but nah. He’s still my guy. Checks up on me, makes sure I don’t lose myself in all the… chaos. He keeps me grounded.”

Karina’s lips curved into a small smile. “I get it now. Like, your worlds split, but you didn’t.”

“Exactly.” Minseo let out a low laugh. “See? You already get wrestling without even watching it.”

He leaned back after his explanation, realizing he’d just gone on a whole spiel. “Damn, I’m talking too much again, aren’t I?” He rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “I do this a lot. Wrestling, life, whatever, I’ll just keep going until someone tells me to shut up.”

Karina let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “No, I don’t mind. It’s interesting hearing your side.”

Still, he waved her off. “Nah, nah. Let’s talk about you, enough about me. I’m sure you’ve got that, uh… that feeling. Y’know, the whole ‘giant company, big machine, easy to lose yourself’ thing. You get what I mean, right?”

Karina blinked at him, caught off guard that he managed to pin her exact thoughts into words. Slowly, she nodded. “…Yeah. I do.”. She tilted her head slightly, studying him, before her lips curved into a small, almost tired smile. “I get what you mean.”

She let out a quiet sigh, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup. “Sometimes I wonder if people actually know me. To most of them, I’m just Karina, the leader, the performer, the… image. And that’s fine, it’s my job. But then there are moments where I think, does anyone really see Yu Jimin? The girl who still gets nervous before going on stage, or who just wants to eat chips at the dorm without worrying about cameras catching her?”

She paused, realizing how much she’d said, and quickly added with a soft laugh, “Sorry. That sounded heavier than I meant it to.”

Minseo leaned back in his chair, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Wow, chips at the dorm? That’s your big confession? Real scandalous, Jimin. You’re really living on the edge.”

She gave him a look, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward despite herself.

His teasing softened as he leaned forward again, tone more sincere. “But seriously… I get it. I mean, yeah, to the world you’re Karina, perfect leader, idol, whatever label they slap on you. But sitting here?” He gestured toward her casually. “I see Jimin. The girl who willingly goes here despite her busy schedule.”

Her eyes flickered at that, caught off guard, and Minseo just grinned like he hadn’t said anything earth-shattering. “So yeah, sorry, but you can’t fool me. You’re not just Karina tonight.”

Minseo glanced at his watch and raised his brows. “Woah… time flew, huh? It’s getting late already.” He leaned back in his chair before looking at her again with that easy grin. “Guess that means I’ve gotta take you back to your hotel.”

Jimin shook her head lightly. “You don’t have to. I can—”

“I insist,” he cut in smoothly, holding up a hand like it was non-negotiable. His grin softened into something firmer. “I’m not about to let a pretty girl like you wander around by yourself this late. It’s not safe.”

Her lips parted, caught between protest and surprise, but he was already standing from his chair, getting up about to wait for her. “Relax, it’s not a big deal. My car’s parked right outside. Just give me the directions to your hotel and let me play chauffeur for tonight, yeah?”

He glanced at his watch again and stood up, pushing his chair back with ease. Instead of heading out right away, he waited, eyes flicking to her with an unspoken patience until she rose to her feet.

When they reached the door, he stepped ahead, holding it open without a word. She gave him a small look, half a smile, half a question and he only shrugged as if it were second nature.

Outside, the night air was cool, their footsteps falling in rhythm on the pavement. He didn’t rush ahead, instead slowing his stride so it matched hers exactly, hands tucked in his pockets as if he wasn’t thinking about it at all.

“Which car is yours?” she asked, scanning the lot.

He veered slightly left, leading her toward a black Dodge Charger parked under a streetlight. Minseo unlocked the car with a quick press of his key fob, but instead of immediately sliding into the driver’s seat, he moved around to the passenger side first.

“After you,” he said, pulling the door open like it was the most natural thing in the world. Karina hesitated for a second, it wasn’t often someone treated her this way off-camera, but she nodded and slipped inside.

When he finally dropped into his seat, he leaned over just slightly. “Seat good? Too far back? I can adjust it.”

She shook her head. “It’s fine.”

“Okay, but tell me if it’s not. Don’t just suffer through it,” he said, giving her a mock stern look before turning the engine on.

The soft hum of the car filled the space. He tapped the screen on the dashboard, the playlist menu popping up. “So… wanna take DJ duty? Aux is yours. Don’t worry, I won’t judge your taste. Much.”

Her lips twitched into a small smile. “Even if it’s bad?”

“I sat through Minjeong’s entire Frozen soundtrack phase. Trust me, you’re safe.”

As she reached for the aux, he casually leaned over and clicked her seatbelt into place before she could do it herself. She blinked at him, a little startled.

“What? Safety first,” he said with a grin, trying to play it off. “I’d never forgive myself if Karina of aespa got hurt in my car. Imagine the headlines. I’d be cooked.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head.

“Oh, by the way,” he added, reaching into the cupholder and holding out a chilled water bottle. “Grabbed this earlier. Figured you’d need it.”

Karina looked at it, then at him, and for a split second he thought he’d overdone it. But she accepted it with both hands, murmuring, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, turning the wheel as he pulled out into the street. “Just… don’t spill it on my seats. These babies are my pride and joy.”

He slid into the driver’s seat, adjusting the mirror before glancing at her with a crooked smile. "So, which hotel are you staying at?" he asked, adjusting the steering wheel as he started the car.

"JW Marriott," Jimin replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

His brows shot up. "JW Marriott? That’s crazy, girl. Living fancy, huh?" He let out a low whistle, shaking his head with a grin. "Meanwhile, I’m over here just trying to not max out my Uber Eats budget."

Jimin chuckled softly, and he couldn’t help but glance at her before looking back at the road.

"Okay, then," he muttered, reaching for the GPS. He typed in the hotel name with one hand, his movements quick and practiced, then set the phone back on the holder. "Buckle up, I promise not to crash us. Probably."

Her lips curled at his little joke, but he noticed she adjusted her seatbelt anyway.

As the car eased into motion, he added, "Not gonna lie though, driving you back feels way better than handing you off to some random driver. Safer this way. Plus, I get to steal a little more of your time."

She smirked, turning her head toward him. “I would’ve thought you’d already have known… considering you’re Minjeong’s brother.”

He let out a short laugh, eyes still on the road. “Well, I don’t know everything about my sister, and I’m not the type to ask her that. She’d probably roast me for even bringing it up.” He glanced at her for a beat, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “Besides, some things are better hearing straight from you. Makes it feel more real.”

Karina raised a brow, her lips curling into a teasing smile. “So what you’re saying is… I’m more reliable than your own sister?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s not what I said. Don’t twist my words, Yu Jimin.” His tone softened, though, and he added, “But yeah, maybe I am saying I’d rather hear it from you.”

The car rolled to a stop in front of the hotel. Karina unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to him with that soft, polite smile of hers.

“Well, looks like this is it. I’ll see you, Minseo.”

“Yeah,” he said, forcing his voice to stay steady even as his stomach gave the faintest twist. “I’ll see you too. Just… text me when you get back to your room, alright?”

She tilted her head, studying him for a second. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay? You did eat a glazed donut a while ago.”

He waved it off, trying to look casual. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just take my medicine. Don’t worry about me.”

Karina gave a small nod, clearly unconvinced but too polite to press. With one last smile, she slipped out of the car and disappeared into the glow of the hotel entrance.

The moment the glass doors shut behind her, Minseo’s composure crumbled. His hands clenched tighter around the steering wheel as his stomach twisted again, this time sharper, more urgent.

“…Fuck.”

He jerked the car into gear, swerving toward the nearest corner of the parking lot. The second he parked, he yanked the keys out and bolted, practically sprinting for the first bathroom sign he spotted.

“Smooth, Minseo. Real smooth,” he muttered under his breath as he ran, his bravado from the night giving way to sheer desperation.

And just like that, the date ended, not with fireworks, not with a kiss, but with him praying to make it to the bathroom in time.

karina x winter's brother! oc

word count: 2406 words

part of the series: unscripted

Winter shifted uncomfortably beside Karina as the van hummed along the road. She kept staring at her phone like it might bite her, her thumb hovering over the screen before pulling back again. Finally, she drew in a breath and glanced sideways at her leader.

“Unnie… can I ask you something?”

Karina blinked, still half-distracted by her own thoughts, but nodded. “Of course.”

Winter didn’t speak. Instead, she silently pressed her phone into Karina’s hand. The chat with her brother was still open, the last unread voice message glowing at the top. Karina hesitated, her brows furrowing, then tapped play.

“You thought it’s over, didn’t you? Nope. Bet doesn’t end until 11:59 tonight. But I’ll be tied up with Raw, so I can’t make you do much else. That means this is my last request… and I want it to actually matter. Not a prank, not a joke… I want a blind date.”

Karina froze, her eyes darting to Winter, but Winter only motioned for her to keep scrolling.

By the time she finished scrolling, Karina realized she was holding her breath. She swallowed hard and handed the phone back to Winter, whose expression was caught between nervous and apologetic.

The van’s chatter felt miles away.

Karina’s fingers hovered over Winter’s phone, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. She had every reason to say no. She barely knew him. He was a wrestler with a chaotic reputation, a man who could ghost women without a second thought. And yet… a part of her couldn’t deny it. That post-fansign dinner, he crashed on, the way he casually clicked with everyone, the brief moment in the gym, the way he carried himself, even the intensity in his stare, it lingered in her chest longer than she wanted to admit. Her fingers tightened slightly around her bag strap as if grounding herself.

Winter sat beside her, eyes wide and hesitant, clearly waiting for an answer. “Unnie… what do you want me to say back?” she asked, voice small and uncertain.

Karina took a slow breath, trying to steady the rush of thoughts. She glanced at Winter, then back at the text conversation glowing on the screen. The ghosting remark, Minseo’s casual deflection, Winter’s concern — all of it danced in her mind, a complicated tangle of warning and curiosity. Her cheeks warmed without her realizing it, and she quickly adjusted her posture, sitting a little straighter as if to regain composure.

“…Tell him nothing,” she said finally, her voice calm, measured. Not a yes, not a no. Just a pause, a boundary, a way to buy herself time while her mind spun with the possibilities.

Winter blinked. “…Nothing?”

Karina nodded once, eyes drifting toward the city lights streaking past the van window. She didn’t want to admit how much she wanted to see what would happen next, how curious she was to know if the man behind that chaotic, intense persona was someone she could trust, or someone she shouldn’t. Her fingers tapped lightly against her bag, betraying the nervous excitement she refused to acknowledge.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, but in the quiet, one thing was certain: she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

But that thought was cut short when the van stops, reaching the destination of their next schedule. Guess it was time to get back to work.

The day finally ended, the last of aespa’s schedules wrapped up, and Karina trudged into the hotel room, her shoulders aching and her mind still buzzing from the nonstop whirlwind of interviews, rehearsals, and promotions. All she wanted was to collapse onto the bed and let the quiet of the room wash over her.

Before she could even kick off her shoes, a familiar voice called out.

“Jimin, wait!” Giselle appeared at the doorway, eyes sparkling with mischief and energy, the kind only she could carry even after a long day. “There’s a club nearby, and I think we deserve it. After everything today… come on, let’s go together.”

Karina glanced up at her, raising an eyebrow. Part of her wanted to refuse — her body screamed for rest, her mind begged for quiet — but Giselle’s infectious grin made it harder to say no.

“…A club?” Karina asked, her tone calm but tinged with amusement. “Aeri, do you really think I have the energy to survive a club right now?”

Giselle shrugged dramatically, leaning against the doorframe. “Survive? Pfft. You’re the leader, Jimin. You survive everything. But besides, you need a break. Let loose for once. Dance, laugh… forget the chaos for a little while.”

Karina chuckled softly, her shoulders relaxing despite herself. Giselle had a way of pulling her out of her own head, reminding her she was more than schedules and responsibilities.

“Fine,” Karina said finally, a small smile tugging at her lips. “But one drink, and then I’m back to my bed. Deal?”

“Deal!” Giselle exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I promise, you’ll thank me later.”

As Giselle bounded off to grab her things, Karina allowed herself a small, private laugh, feeling a rare flicker of excitement. Maybe a night out wouldn’t be so bad…

And yet, even as she followed her friend, Karina’s thoughts drifted ever so slightly to him, Minseo, and the blind date that loomed somewhere between curiosity and chaos. She shook her head, trying to push the thought away. Tonight was for fun. She already dodged that blind date, she doesn't need to worry about him.

The club was alive with flashing lights and bass that seemed to rattle through the floor. Karina sat back, letting her eyes adjust to the chaos around her. It wasn’t her world, she could admit that—but it was easy to see it was Giselle’s. Out on the dance floor, Giselle moved like she owned the space, laughing and blending seamlessly with the crowd.

Karina had been dragged in for one song earlier, swaying awkwardly at Giselle’s side until she slipped away with a polite smile. Now she lingered near their table, feeling like a mismatched piece in a loud puzzle.

It didn’t take long for Giselle to notice. She slipped back, cheeks flushed from dancing, and leaned close so Karina could hear her over the music. “You look like you need a break,” she said with a grin, not unkind. “I’ll be on the floor if you change your mind. Just stay here and chill, okay?”

Karina gave her a small nod, grateful. Giselle shot her a reassuring look before disappearing again into the lights and movement.

Karina idly scanned the room, letting her gaze wander around their table, when the sound of loud laughter caught her attention. A group of guys were seated just a few steps away, their drinks clinking, their voices carrying over the music. She didn’t recognize any of them—at least, not at first.

And then her eyes landed on him. Minseo.

Her stomach dipped. What the hell is he doing here?

Instinctively, she almost looked away, ready to pretend she hadn’t seen him—the same guy who, through Winter, had somehow managed to ask her on a date. But it was too late. Minseo’s head lifted, and his gaze locked onto hers. He smirked like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

One of his friends called out over the music, “Minseo, you’re not gonna join us on the dance floor?”

Minseo shook his head easily, flashing that casual grin. “Nah. I’ll be around. Find me later.”

When his friends finally stumbled off toward the crowd, Minseo pushed back his chair. Without hesitation, he strolled over to her table, his presence cutting through the noise and flashing lights until he was right in front of her.

“Hey,” he said smoothly, tipping his chin toward the empty chair. “You don’t mind if I sit here, right?”

Karina blinked at him, instinctively straightening in her seat. “…You can sit,” she answered carefully, her tone polite but distant. Then, with the faintest arch of her brow, she added, “As long as you don’t think this is part of your little bet.”

Karina blinked at him, instinctively straightening in her seat. “…You can sit,” she said carefully, her tone polite but distant. Then, with the faintest arch of her brow, she added, “As long as you don’t think this is part of your little bet.”

Minseo chuckled, a low, easy sound that made her chest tighten just slightly. “Bet? Oh, that bet was only between me and Minjeong. Speaking of…” He tilted his head, studying her with that sharp, assessing gaze. “You’re not the type to hang around here, are you?”

She shook her head, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Nope. I’m here with my friend—she’s out on the dance floor. What about you? What are you doing here?”

“Me?” He leaned back casually, as if the question amused him. “Just having some fun. Well… more like taking a little time to unwind. Skipped that interview this morning to get here.”

Karina’s brow lifted. “Interview? Wrestlers do interviews?”

“Obviously,” he said with a smirk, resting an arm on the back of the chair. “What do you think we are? Roaches crawling out of nowhere?” His grin was teasing, but there was a controlled intensity underneath it. “Though honestly, I don’t go to most of them. Only mandatory ones—or ones in my contract. The rest? Waste of my time.”

Karina studied him, trying to read between the teasing and the bluntness. He’s… different from anyone I’ve met. Confident, unapologetic, but not arrogant. Dangerous in a way that isn’t reckless… She shook the thought away, forcing herself to look at the table instead of him.

“And yet here you are,” she said quietly, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips, “in a club, skipping responsibilities. Not exactly what I expected.”

He leaned slightly forward, eyes glinting in the dim light. “Expected is boring. Besides…” His gaze flicked to her, just long enough to make her pulse quicken. “I like seeing things differently. And you know what’s different?” He smirked faintly. “The fact that I ran into a pretty lady like you tonight. First time I’ve been here, and honestly…” he paused, the corner of his mouth tugging upward, “it’s the best thing I’ve felt since that death match I had before leaving AEW.”

Karina’s brows furrowed, confusion flickering across her face. Leaving… what? she thought, not daring to ask out loud.

As if catching himself, Minseo chuckled and waved it off. “Okay, okay, let’s not make this about me. Let’s talk about you. Must’ve been an exhausting day, huh? If you don’t usually come to places like this.”

Karina blinked at him, the music thumping around them but somehow distant. She hesitated, weighing her words carefully. “…Yeah,” she admitted finally. “It’s… not really my scene. I’m more used to planning, schedules, meetings. Keeping everyone in line. Being the leader… it’s… tiring sometimes.”

He tilted his head, eyes scanning her as if trying to read the layers she didn’t voice. “I get that,” he said quietly, almost reflective. “People don’t see the weight you carry until they’re standing where you stand. I’ve been in the ring, performing in front of thousands, pretending I’m unbreakable… Doesn’t mean I am.”

Karina studied him, surprised by the quiet vulnerability beneath his chaotic energy. “I didn’t… think someone like you… would get it,” she murmured.

He shrugged, casual but earnest. “Don’t let the persona fool you. I respect people who give their all. I can see that about you. You lead your team like it’s everything, and maybe it is. I know the feeling.”

For a moment, the noise around them—the lights, the bass, the chatter—faded. It was just the two of them, and the subtle understanding that they both shouldered heavy responsibilities, even if the world only saw the surface.

Karina felt her chest tighten in a strange mix of relief and intrigue. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, letting the moment hang. His intensity wasn’t suffocating—it was measured, almost careful.

Minseo pushed back from his seat with an easy grin, dusting off his jacket. “Well, guess I’ll see you around, cutie. I’d stick around longer, but I’ve got a dance floor to conquer.” His tone was light, teasing, but not dismissive. He turned, ready to slip back into the crowd.

“Wait.”

The word slipped out before she could stop it. Minseo froze, glancing back at her with a raised brow.

Karina’s fingers curled against her glass, pulse quickening. “That blind date… I’ll go.”

For a beat, he just stared at her. The grin faded, then slowly curved back, softer this time, like she’d just thrown him off his balance. “What? Am I hearing you right? You’re serious?”

Her throat felt dry, but she forced herself to meet his eyes. “Yes, Minseo. I’m serious.”

He blinked once, then let out a short laugh—disbelieving but not mocking. “Damn. And here I thought you’d write me off forever.” He leaned down a little, dropping his voice into something more genuine. “Guess I’ll have to prove you’re not making a mistake.”

Karina tilted her head slightly. “If you don’t ghost me first.”

That pulled a real laugh out of him, low and amused. He shook his head. “I don’t ghost everyone. Just the ones who only care about asking me what John Cena smells like or how much fake blood we use in matches.” His grin softened into something almost honest. “You’re different. That’s why I’m not going anywhere.”

Before she could respond, he slid his phone across the table. “So… number? That way I can prove it.”

She hesitated, but the steadiness in his gaze made her pick it up. A few taps later, her number sat in his contacts.

Minseo glanced at the screen and smirked. “Good. Now we’ve got ourselves a real date. No scripts, no bets. Just us. Completely unscripted” He tucked the phone into his pocket, backing toward the dance floor. “Don’t make me regret it, cutie.”

Karina watched as he disappeared into the throng of bodies, swallowed by neon lights and pulsing music. The club felt loud again, louder than before, but the echo of his words lingered in her chest; steady, impossible to ignore.

She leaned back against her seat, exhaling slowly. Somewhere on his phone, her number sat waiting. And for reasons she couldn’t quite name yet, that thought didn’t scare her.

Instead, it left her curious.