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I just finished monster house and loved it!! Could you do some fluffy scenarios living with the xdh monster boys and bonding with them pls?? Like Jiseok showing you his latest experiments and gunil telling you stories from 200 years ago. Honestly just anything with the monster boys I love them lol
MONSTER!XDINARY HEROES AND BONDING TIME
── .✦ a/n; monster house au!!! i can't believe it's been almost a year already :') thanks for requesting this anon and i'm sorry for the wait! happy belated halloweeeenn <3
── .✦ gunil;
living for 700 years makes for a lot of stories. gunil usually brings one up when he's trying to make a point about something or other, but sometimes he just wants to reminisce, and you always end up in the same room when that happens.
a blackout? i remember when we only had candles to light the house up. in fact ...
have you heard the old story about the goblin's club? yes? well, about a century ago, i ran into a goblin and ...
this is a good time to bring up the history between immortal species.
the others give their condolences. but you really don't mind; maybe it's because you're newer to gunil's tendencies, or because some forgotten part of you knows the same loneliness that he had felt for so long. either way, you always sit yourself down across from him, cross your legs, and listen.
when i turned fifty, i was supposed to turn my first human, he tells you one day. we call it drinking with intent. but i couldn't do it.
why not? you ask.
gunil is quiet for a moment. his eyes catch yours, and then he smiles, one fang gleaming harmlessly in the lamplight.
it's scary enough to be born once, isn't it?
you think. i guess so. so then what happened?
i left and made my own colony.
he is matter-of-fact about the whole thing, almost congenial about it. but you know by now that he probably still thinks about that time whenever he is the first one in a room or the last to leave, when he thinks he is alone. does he consider himself a traitor? does he miss the fellowship of his own kind?
you did a pretty good job, you tell him honestly.
gunil blinks in surprise. then he chuckles, awkward but pleased. thanks. sometimes i wonder with these guys, you know …
you laugh with him, and the room feels a bit brighter.
── .✦ jungsu;
you often go with jungsu when he heads out to the graveyard. it's a bit morbid, maybe, but something about visiting the place you had been buried in soothes you—maybe it's the weathered grey of your headstone, a singular acknowledgement that you had existed.
at first, you had worried that jungsu only agreed to let you come along out of pity, or worse, that he barely tolerated your encroachment on his alone time. however, an apology during your third visit had quickly revealed that jungsu does not mind at all, and in fact enjoys your company.
during these outings, you learn that he's a bit self-conscious about being a ghoul. he doesn't outright say it. but he reads every headstone before he digs, and he thanks you quietly when you offer to retrieve the bodies for him on rainy days, muddying your clothes so he doesn't have to.
i wouldn't go here so often if i had the choice, he once admits to you. but when the cravings start, i don't like what i become.
what do you become? you ask.
he hesitates. a monster, he says. then he laughs a little. sorry. it sounds silly since i'm always one, right?
it's a bit silly. but you understand.
( looking in the mirror and not quite recognizing yourself. hardly remembering what "yourself" should mean. having to suppress or tame for the sake of others who would not otherwise survive you.)
maybe he can read the expression on your face, because jungsu looks at you and visibly relaxes. anyway, he says. do you mind helping me put the dirt back?
you don't mind. so you nod, smiling, and start shoveling.
── .✦ gaon;
jiseok's always working on some project or another. you're not the most scientific-minded person, but when he comes up to you and blinks those large zombie eyes at you, asking you to look at the previously defunct termite limping along in his lab, well—curiosity always wins out.
it's almost like he's trying to impress you, or amuse you, or otherwise garner some of your positive attention. he shows you jars upon jars of preserved things, pots of sprawling plant hybrids, flasks of bubbling liquids that smell like bleach and explode like fireworks. he goes on about the mechanics of reanimation and scribbles you a drawing of how he thinks your body "un-decayed" when you came back, and it's kind of gross, but you thank him for the revelation anyways.
a pattern develops in which he tells you to come closer while watching him work, assuring you that everything's perfectly fine—then apologizes sheepishly when it becomes not fine, patting out the fire on your clothes or steering you away from the spray of broken glass. both of you know that there's really no point in keeping you safe, being already undead, but the consideration is there anyway.
over time, you get used to the danger. maybe you even derive your own amusement from it, welcoming the thrill of failure and discovery that jiseok chases in his basement lab.
cool, isn't it? jiseok says. back when i was alive, i thought i'd never get to do the experiments i wanted. now i can for as long as i want.
as he offers you a pair of goggles and snaps his own on, you're inclined to agree.
yeah, it's pretty cool.
── .✦ o.de;
it's common knowledge that gumiho are deceptively beautiful creatures. seungmin is no exception, but it's not until you move in that you realize the amount of work it takes to maintain such an appearance.
more often than not, you spot seungmin's fox form in various spots throughout the mansion, cleaning his fur with deliberation. other times, he's in his human form, combing his fingers through his hair or smoothing the wrinkles from his clothes.
you assume that his grooming is a solitary activity. that is, until one day, seungmin trots over to you with a brush in his hand, offering it with a polite request for you to brush his fox form's head and shoulders.
you don't have to, he says. but jungsu is busy, so i figured i'd ask you since you seem kind of curious about it.
it's a small favor that seungmin appreciates, you learn—for all the magic afforded to the gumiho, he can't quite reach every spot. you accept the brush, and soon enough, you find yourself sitting cross-legged on the sofa, following seungmin's directions as you run the bristles through his silky fur.
once you're finished, he hops down, nudging your legs in thanks before changing back.
i can give you a pretty good back scratch in return, he offers, and you can't tell is he's serious or not before he breaks into a grin.
you laugh. maybe later, you reply.
he was joking, but after that day, seungmin is a bit touchier. not in a strange or unwelcome way, but he straightens the collar of your shirt when he thinks it's crooked, and he wipes away the stray spots of ash or dirt you had missed when you come back from the lab or the graveyard. casual, affectionate. you have a hard time pretending that you don't enjoy it as much as you do.
── .✦ junhan;
given his elusive nature, you find hyeongjun's whiteboard to be very useful.
it starts with simple notes, like when gunil wants to hold a meeting, the door or vase that hyeongjun needs to pull a stray ghost out of, or where you'd last seen kkito toddling around. once hyeongjun takes care of it, he writes a little "done" next to it. the follow-up never fails to lift your mood.
eventually, you catch jooyeon doodling on the whiteboard. he proudly shows you the wolf he'd drawn, then hands you the marker.
hyeongjun won't mind? you ask.
nah, he'll just add to it until it has to be erased for another note.
you're not much of an artist, but you scratch out a poor attempt at a zombie.
the next day, a ghost doodle appears next to the zombie and wolf. it's quickly joined by a vampire, fox, another zombie, and a ghoul, and you wish you could get another whiteboard so that the picture won't be erased.
before night falls, you find hyeongjun standing in front of it, hands clasped behind his back as if he is observing a museum painting. when he notices your presence, he turns and locks eyes with you, and the small, pleased smile on his face feels like a triumph.
you make a point from then on to draw on the whiteboard when you can. sometimes you are brave enough to slip a paper drawing underneath his door, which always appears back in your room later with an additional doodle or two.
── .✦ jooyeon;
jooyeon has an unfortunate penchant for human things. it's unfortunate because humans are not allowed in the mansion, and the possession of human things only makes jooyeon want to bring them around more.
they're so cool, he insists to you. they have heavy metal. and stores full of chips.
to his chagrin, you, like the rest of his pack, are unwilling to leave the safety of the property to dumpster dive or sneak into concerts. but you do have an interest in the aforementioned human things that clutter jooyeon's space, a weakness that he quickly sniffs out and eagerly exploits.
he drags you into his room after hauls to sort through what he's retrieved—torn-up magazines, just barely expired food that grocery stores tossed, little tchotchkes that caught his eye. you help him arrange each souvenir in a way that satisfies him.
it's during these little sessions that you learn jooyeon can be rather generous. if there's something your gaze lingers on for longer than a second, he is quick to give it to you. if he wants it too, then he's quick to offer to share. we're packmates, he says, pushing the item into your chest. what's yours and mine are basically the same.
it's endearing. jooyeon holds an optimism about humans that worries and intrigues you, and although you don't quite understand it, he is your so-called packmate and you like it when he is happy. it must get lonely when he goes out by himself, after all, even if he's the one who insists on exploring.
maybe one day you'll have the courage to sneak into a town with him. but for now, you'll help him decide how to hang up his posters.
hiii could I request jooyeon falling for reader who's kind of a wallflower? 🫶
EVASION RATE
── .✦ pairing; jooyeon x gn!reader
── .✦ summary; jooyeon chats up the resident wallflower at a party.
── .✦ word count; ~1.9k
── .✦ tags; swearing, alcohol use, fluff
── .✦ a/n; ABSOLUTELY ANON.
Huh, Jooyeon realizes about two hours in, this party kind of sucks ass.
It's a rare, almost sacrilegious thought. Jooyeon loves parties—especially ones with lots of people, lots of alcohol, and lots of noise. This one has all three. He's gotten phone numbers from four different people and his mind is pleasantly boozy. But there's supposed to be a rush, a click that makes time disappear and fills him with enough energy to last until dawn, and it's not coming. The vibe is off.
Maybe he's not drunk enough?
"—know what I'm saying, bro?"
Jooyeon blinks, registering the guy in front of him. He laughs and nods. "Totally," he says, having no idea what he's agreeing to before clearing his throat. "I gotta take a piss. Do you know where the bathroom is?"
The guy points to the hallway on his left, and Jooyeon seizes his chance to escape the conversation.
Squeezing through a crowd that seems more packed than usual, he sighs with relief once he breaks out of it and into the hallway. Unfortunately, when he gets to the door he assumes belongs to the bathroom, it's locked. He jostles the knob a bit in frustration before giving up and looking back from whence he came.
People are having his kind of fun somewhere in this house, surely. It's not in the living room with the drinking games, or the den with the Wii, or the kitchen with the mess of opened backup snacks. Jooyeon doesn't want to leave. This is supposed to be a fun night, goddammit.
So he wades towards the stairs leading to the basement and makes his way down, hoping that he might work his way up to finding what he needs.
The lowest level of the house is just as rowdy as the main one. Every available ledge is filled with bottles and cups, and every corner has someone (or several someones) pressed into it. Jooyeon has to squint to find faces in the dancing shadows dotted with colored lights. Someone's cracked the sole window open to thin the fog of body heat, but the effort does little in the long run.
He's not feeling it. However, the anonymity of the darkness gives him the chance to lay back for a bit, so he manages to squeeze into an unoccupied section of wall to lean against it, pulling out his phone.
A couple minutes pass while he swipes through his social medias (they're dry for a Saturday night), replies to a text from his mom asking if he wants her to bring food next weekend (YES pls love u mom), and otherwise tries to trigger a good reset so he can get back to enjoying himself (it's not working that well).
Just as he gives up, someone bumps into him hard from the right side.
His phone tumbles out of his hand, and his drink, held precariously in the other, sloshes over the rim of his cup and onto his fingers, lukewarm and sticky.
"Hey," he snaps after the offending person, who's already melting back into the crowd without so much as a glance behind them, "watch where you're going!"
Geez. Mood quickly souring, Jooyeon wipes his hand on his shirt and seriously contemplates calling it a night. He squats down to search for his phone.
Something taps his shoulder.
"Here ..."
Jooyeon turns sharply. His frown fades.
Sitting criss-cross next to him, you hold his phone out, offering it with both hands.
Your voice is barely audible underneath the pulsing music and laughter. He can't make out your face that well, but he cobbles together the features that catch in the moving lights to assume your expression. Shy. A dim light emanates from your lap and Jooyeon instinctively glances down to see a shot of Marowak paused on your own phone.
Carefully, he takes his phone from your hand. "Thanks." Then he blinks. "Were you down there this whole time?"
"Um. Yeah," you say, and it doesn't take a genius to tell that you'd rather be anywhere else. "Your phone ... fell on me."
"Oh, shit. Sorry. Some asshole shoved me."
You shrug.
Ah, so that's how it is. You remind him of a certain guitarist, and Jooyeon, now determined to get you to like him on principle, points at your phone.
"You like Pokémon? What are you watching?" he asks.
You mumble something.
"Huh?"
"Indigo League," you say, more loudly.
"Oh, shit!" He perks up. "It was literally on my recommended this morning, but I wanted to catch up on Jujutsu Kaisen so I ended up watching that instead. Is it your first time watching it?"
Jooyeon can make out the shadow of a smile on your face. "No, um, I've watched the whole season before … it's kind of a comfort show, for me."
"Childhood memories, right? That makes sense." Suddenly remembering, he pulls his keys out of his pocket. "I put Vulpix and Charmander on my keys today, but I have a lot more at home." When you squint to see them, he decidedly pulls away to stand up. "Let's go somewhere where there's more light."
Holding out his hand to you, he's glad when you accept it. Your hand fits in his just right and he smiles to himself as he leads you upstairs.
Now back in the brightness of the kitchen, Jooyeon flashes his keychains at you proudly. "Here they are."
"Oh, those are nice!" you exclaim. Your voice is still soft, but it contains an admiration that he basks in. "Do you usually pair them by type?"
"Mm, sometimes. Other times it's just by vibe."
"Vibe?"
"Yeah. Like …" he wiggles his shoulders, figuring that it's the type of thing to make you laugh—you do, and he grins, "that kinda vibe, y'know?"
"Okay." Your eyes crinkle in amusement.
He pretends to huff. "Here." Jooyeon tucks his keys away and snatches two opened bags of chips from the table. Holding them in front of you, he shakes one after the other. "Which one are you feeling?"
You laugh underneath your breath again but play along, gaze flitting between the choices. Eventually, you point at the bag of spicy sweet Cheetos. "That one."
"Okay." He has you hold the chip bag in your other hand. "Now close your eyes."
"Why?"
"You have to choose the other one by vibe."
Despite your incredulity, you close your eyes. Jooyeon blinks at the way your eyelashes fall against your skin, momentarily starstruck. He didn't know eyelashes could be so pretty.
"Isn't this just … guessing …?"
"Ah, no." Shaking out of his stupor, Jooyeon guides you to the snack table and takes your hand again, plopping it over one chip bag, then the next, ignoring the disgruntled partygoer who had been eyeing the options. "Which one vibes the most with your chips?"
Your brow furrows as you feel your way around. "Um, can I shake them?" you ask.
"Sure."
To his delight, you take your task seriously, listening to the rattle of each bag paired with your own.
Eventually, you settle on the honey butter chips.
"This one. Or, wait, I mean—no—yeah, this one?"
You open your eyes, and Jooyeon snorts at the disgruntled look on your face when you see what you've chosen.
"What's with the face?" he asks, picking at the corner of the bag of honey butter chips. "These are good."
You wrinkle your nose. "I don't think I did it right. These ones would be weird together."
"Hey, you chose them. They could go together." He fishes out one of each chip and stuffs them into his mouth at the same time. The amalgamation of flavors causes him to scrunch his face. "Oh. Hmm ...? Hm." He tries a second time. "It's kinda good, actually?"
You try the combination for yourself. As Jooyeon chews, he gauges your expression, noting the little wrinkle between your eyebrows and then the slow blink of surprise as the taste sinks in.
"... Yeah," you finally judge, nodding, "it's alright."
"It's alright!" He holds his hand up triumphantly, and you high-five him. "There you go. Foolproof." While you carefully put the chips back into place (just to be snatched up by the impatient partygoer), he suddenly remembers his manners. "Shit. Sorry, I forgot to ask for your name. I'm Jooyeon."
"Hi, Jooyeon-ssi." For some reason, the introduction brings forth your shyness again, so Jooyeon waves hello at you jokingly and you relax a little again with a small smile. "I'm [Y/n]."
You end up talking for the rest of the night. Well, talking, and watching Indigo League on your phone. And he enjoys it, in a way he doesn't expect, sitting in a corner of the den while others scream at the TV, shoulder-to-shoulder even though your wireless earbuds don't require the closeness. It feels cozy. Like he knows you, and you know him, even though you've just met.
At the end of it, Jooyeon finds himself nervously asking for your phone number. He feels warm-faced and about five years younger when you readily take his offered phone and type your number in, and then he's eagerly agreeing when you stutter a request to be friends on Instagram.
"So ... when are we gonna finish Indigo League?" he asks as you make your way to the doorway. He pulls his shoes on, hoping that he can walk outside with you and talk a little longer before you have to part ways.
But you stay put. "I dunno," you say. "Maybe when you come back for the next party?"
His brow furrows.
Next thing he knows, a guy he's only met once before stumbles up and slaps him drunkenly on the back. "Dude," the guy exclaims, "oh my god, thanks for coming. I'm gonna be honest, I didn't even know you were here, but I'm glad you were!"
Oh, so this is his party. Huh. "Yeah, it was wild," Jooyeon smiles, eyes darting over to you. You've stepped back to give the two of them room.
The guy notices the direction of his gaze and brightens. "Oh, damn, you actually crawled out of your hole! So now what do you think?"
"I tried it and it was still too loud," you mutter. "Can you invite less people next time?"
The gears turn in Jooyeon's head.
He gawks at you. "Wait, you live here?"
A comically sullen look crosses your face as you nod. "He's my older brother," you say, pointing to the guy and squirming when he pulls your hoodie up and over your face.
"Awww, you made a friend with—sorry, your name—" ("Jooyeon," you whisper to your brother, and Jooyeon feels remarkably tingly at the sound of his name leaving your lips) "—with Jooyeon? Hope you didn't get him into any trouble." He snickers, and you roll your eyes.
"We were fine," you say, and then you turn your attention back to Jooyeon. "Um, thanks for coming. It was nice to meet you."
"Same here," Jooyeon hums. He lingers for a split second longer. "... Well, see ya."
"See ya."
He forces himself out the door, glancing over his shoulder one last time. You crack a grin, and he returns it before almost tumbling down the stairs.
The embarrassment is well worth the gasp and giggle that rings in his ears all the way home.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Hi! I wanted to know if I could request a writing with Jooyeon x reader where Jooyeon is a nonidol and a p.e. teacher, while the reader is also a teacher at the same school. Maybe like an art teacher or normal homeroom teacher for the reader? Or whatever you think is best and will make sense. I know it will be amazing since I have loved all of your writings they are so so good! :D I hope this makes sense since it is my first time requesting something.
A FOR EFFORT?
── .✦ pairing; teacher!jooyeon x teacher!gn!reader
── .✦ summary; five times jooyeon is in the running for the position of your work spouse, and one time you run for the position of his.
── .✦ word count; ~4.1k
── .✦ tags; swearing, slightly suggestive near the end, teacher au, fluff, humor, (inaccurate depiction of teaching in korea/teaching in general), (i apologize to those who read this and actually teach tysm for your hard work)
── .✦ a/n; thank you for the request anon!!! i'm sorry for the delay </3 for plot purposes reader is an art teacher hehe
prelude;
Two weeks after Lee Jooyeon comes onboard at your elementary school as the new physical education teacher, he approaches you in the teacher's room and asks, a grave look on his face, if you have a work spouse already.
"Work spouse?" you repeat, perplexed. "Why do you ask?"
"Hyeongjun said that your work spouse is probably Seungmin. Is he?"
"Well, I guess it would make sense since we both started working here at the same time. But no." The sigh of relief that escapes him makes you crack a smile. "Do you have a work spouse, Seonsaengnim?"
At that, Jooyeon throws you a crooked grin. His boyish reply sends a rush of blood to your cheeks.
"No, not yet." You nod in acknowledgment, looking down with the excuse of organizing your papers. You think that is the end of the conversation until he continues: "How can I get one?"
"Huh?"
"How can I get a work spouse?"
You shrug, laughing a bit at the absurdity of the question, even as a younger part of you flirts with hope. "I don't know," you reply. Jooyeon just stares at you expectantly, and your chuckle turns awkward. "Help them prep materials for their class? Listen to them complain about overbearing parents?"
"Those things would work?"
"I mean, they're nice things to do. Anybody would appreciate it."
"Yes, 'cause I'm lazy and love complaining." You push your sleeves back up and return your attention to your computer screen, scooting into your desk. "Anything else I can help you with before we get back to work, Seonsaengnim?"
A thoughtful hum leaves his throat, low and sonorous. "No, that's it," he eventually replies. "Thank you."
"Of course," you say as he excuses himself, and as he shuffles off to wherever he had come from, your head turns on its own volition to watch him leave.
Work spouse. How cute. You're curious to see what he does with your advice, if only to see if he really means to use it on you.
—
one;
"Good morning, Seonsaengnim!"
Hurried steps soon follow, and you turn, astonished.
"Am I dreaming?" you say by way of greeting, not believing your eyes or ears as Jooyeon skids to a stop. You glance down at the two cups in his possession. "You're thirty minutes early?"
"Yep," Jooyeon says proudly. His expression is bright, though his somewhat rumpled appearance tells you the cost of rolling out of bed earlier than usual. "I wanted to make sure you had time to drink this."
He offers one of the cups to you. You take it gratefully and read the sleeve, your eyebrows shooting up as you recognize the name of your favorite coffee shop. You think you've only mentioned it once to him in passing.
"How do you know how I take my coffee?"
"I asked Jiseokie."
Ah, so that's why he had asked everyone yesterday.
Delaying opening the door to blow into the cup and take a sip, you make a pleased sound as the blend hits your tongue. It isn't your exact order, but it's pretty damn close, and it's good. And it isn't too hot.
"Good?" Jooyeon ventures expectantly.
"Good," you confirm, smiling and turning to open the door. "Thank you, Seonsaengnim."
He follows you into the school and drinks from his own cup of coffee.
"What did you get?" you ask.
He sounds almost proud when he replies. "Iced Americano."
"Is that your usual?"
He takes another swig. You get your answer when you glance to the side and catch the grimace on his face. "… No, I like frappés better …"
You snort, elbowing him gently. "Then why did you get that?"
"The caffeine," he answers. "I wanted to be more awake when I told you good morning."
Oh.
"… Oh," you say, touched. "Well, you've made my morning for sure."
Jooyeon grins. If he had a tail, you think it would be wagging right now.
—
two;
The feeling of Jooyeon hovering over your shoulder is nothing particularly new, but it still makes you nervous and giddy at the same time.
"Yes, Seonsaengnim?"
"Nothing, just watching," he replies, then inevitably follows up with, "what kind of art is this?"
You continue squeezing glue onto the piece of fabric pressed out on the counter, trying to keep the lines from being too gloopy. "I'm doing a few lessons on textiles, and we're going to do batik two days from now. It's a Javanese dyeing technique that creates patterns using hot wax," you explain. "I'll have the kids use glue instead of wax, though."
"Oh, I think I remember doing that in school! Can I try?"
"Sure." You pause to gesture to the nearby stack of fabric squares. "You can draw out your own design on the fabric or trace from the design I printed out."
"I'll make my own design."
For the next five minutes, Jooyeon takes a pencil in hand and becomes deceptively quiet. You sense him glance over at you several times, but you keep your eyes on the standard design you'll be showing as an example, working on the petal edges and filling in the centers. When he mutters about glue, you direct him towards the supply cabinet without so much as sneaking a peek at his progress. You're not sure why. Maybe you just want the reveal to be all at once.
Around the time that you finish your own design, Jooyeon grunts happily. "Done," he announces, very student-like.
"That was pretty quick," you say, finally looking over and immediately stopping short. "Oh, that's … oh … wow."
Jooyeon had drawn a portrait. Of someone? You're actually not sure it's a person.
"It's you," he says, and you struggle not to choke. The corners of his eyes crinkle at the ungodly sound, but your embarrassment quickly fades as he starts cackling. "Abstractly, maybe. What, you don't like it? I worked so hard!"
"No, it's great," you wheeze. "Looks just like me. Can I show it as an example to the students?"
"Well, yeah. Wait, let me sign it." Tongue sticking out slightly, Jooyeon glues his name into the corner with a flourish. "Is that good?"
"Perfect." You mean it genuinely and he beams. "We can paint them tomorrow, if you have time."
"I'll make time, Seonsaengnim."
He helps you put the supplies away and store your pieces somewhere where they won't get bothered. Only then does he sheepishly mutter something about working on his own lesson plan for tomorrow, leading to you quickly ushering him out of the art room.
Once he is gone, you return to the portrait he had made and giggle until you have to sit down. You're flattered—really.
—
three;
"Those girls over at the far end of the swings," Seungmin brings your attention to a trio of students during recess. "They're up to something."
"Looks like they're picking flowers." You watch the three students from the Camellia class as they shuffle through the grass to pick dandelions. The yellow flowers are starting to crop up all over the schoolyard, much to the vice principal's chagrin. "Jiwoo's been making dandelion chains for the past week."
"No ..." Seungmin scratches his neck. "They've been looking over here for the past five minutes and giggling."
You snort. "Maybe they want to give their handsome moral education teacher flowers."
Dismissive of Seungmin's observation, you turn your attention to the more rambunctious group of students playing soccer. One of them attempts a giant swing of a kick only to miss and fall backwards in the process, but she gets back up in no time to run after everyone else.
Eventually, you hear someone calling for a teacher.
"Seonsaengnim!"
You smile as the three girls from earlier run towards you and Seungmin. All three have a chain of dandelions around their necks, and the ringleader, Jiwoo, has a small bundle of long-stemmed dandelions and smaller white flowers tied together with a piece of grass.
"What is it, girls?" you ask. "You all look so nice with your necklaces."
"Thank you," Jiwoo says modestly. The other two glance at each other and giggle but say nothing. "We have something for you."
To your slight but pleasant surprise, she presents the bouquet to you.
"Wow!" says Seungmin next to you. "We have such thoughtful students, Seonsaengnim."
"We do," you say proudly, taking the bouquet. "Thank you, girls."
They look at you and giggle to each other again. You start to get a little perplexed when they linger, until—
"They're from Coach!" Chaeyoung blurts, then gasps and covers her mouth.
You blink. "... Coach?" Jiwoo glares at her friend, and all three girls blush guiltily. You bend down a bit and smile at them to hide your sudden concern. "Did he tell you to do this?"
It takes a moment of silent debating amongst the group, but finally, Jiyoo speaks up, her voice tiny and nervous. "No. But we heard Seonsaengnim tell Coach about liking the dandelions yesterday, and Coach said he wished he was on recess duty today to get you some, a-and ... we wanted to do something nice for Seonsaengnim and Coach."
Your tongue nearly ties itself up into a knot. Shit. You thought it had just been the two of you in the hallway yesterday, away from the kids, but you should've known by now that even the walls have ears. At least you know that Jooyeon has the sense not to purposely involve the kids with this. You avoid meeting Seungmin's eyes for fear that he might say something stupid in front of your students.
While you gather your thoughts, Jiyoo begins to sniff. "I'm sorry for eavesdropping, Seonsaengnim!" she exclaims. "I know you said we're not supposed to!"
Jiwoo and Chaeyoung shift anxiously, eyes downcast. You quickly kneel to soothe Jiyoo and reassure the other two. "Hey, hey," you say softly. "You're not in trouble. I know you three meant to do something nice, and it was very nice to pick me all these beautiful flowers. But Jiyoo-ya is right that we shouldn't eavesdrop. Coach and I were having a private conversation. And whatever is in a private conversation should stay between those two people unless someone is getting hurt, right?"
"Yes ..."
You pat Jiyoo's shoulders and smile at Jiwoo and Chaeyoung.
Jiwoo opens her mouth, then closes it, bringing her friends closer before addressing you. "Seonsaengnim ... can the flowers be from us instead, then?"
Ah, your heart melts a bit. You nod and stroke the bouquet, pressing the flowers to your nose and taking a big whiff. "Of course. I'll put them in a nice cup of water so they can stay on my desk. Thank you."
With all the bad feelings assuaged and a lesson learned, the girls are satisfied and return to playing, and you stand back up, sighing in relief.
"Wow." Seungmin plays with the lanyard hanging from his neck, and you cast him a withering glance as he raises an eyebrow at you. "So even the kids know."
"Seonsaengnim, we're on duty."
He shrugs, taking in a deep breath of sun-filled air. You look back out at your students running and laughing across the schoolyard before he speaks again.
"It's so simple for them. If you like someone, you don't have to worry about their five-year plan or family or Internet history or whatever. You just like them and give them flowers."
"Yeah." You hold your bouquet to your chest, wondering what Jooyeon will say when you tell him that your precious students have beaten him to it. "Kids are lucky."
—
four;
"You know, Seonsaengnim," Jiseok, the science teacher, tells you while you're photocopying extra portrait examples for tomorrow's class, "one might classify you as a homewrecker."
You sputter. "As a—sorry?"
"A homewrecker."
The printer continues to churn out Joseon-period court officials. You glance down at the faces, then at Jiseok, who leans against the overworked machine and returns your questioning gaze with a solemn one.
"Can you ... elaborate on that?" you plead.
"Of course. I'm referring to how my work bestie, Lee Jooyeon, is leaving me for the art teacher." Jiseok shakes his head. "Do you know how hard I've vouched for bridging the gap between the arts and sciences? I've coordinated lessons with you. Both of you have betrayed me!"
A snort leaves your nose. "Oh. You worried me for a second."
"You should be, Seonsaengnim. Even though Jooyeon is single and very available in terms of his personal life, the professional relationship between Jooyeon and me is essential for this school's ecosystem. If it is altered in any way, the effect would be disastrous."
"I don't see how your guys' relationship can get any more disastrous."
Before Jiseok can give a verbal reply, the door opens. Both of you look over, wide-eyed, at the sudden appearance of—well, Jooyeon.
"Hi," he says. "What are you guys doing?"
"Photocopying things in the photocopying room," you say as Jiseok wanders over to the neighboring photocopier to gather his own papers. "What are you doing?"
"Yeah," Jiseok drawls, a shit-eating grin on his face. "What are you doing, Jooyeon-ah?"
"The light was on, so I wanted to turn it off if nobody was in here," Jooyeon says, even though the door has a window. He turns to you. "I can carry your papers for you, Seonsaengnim."
You wave your hands. "You don't have to. I can do it."
"I want to do it."
"It makes me feel a little guilty, though."
With raised eyebrows, Jiseok slips past the two of you, throwing you two exaggerated thumbs ups behind Jooyeon's back before the latter turns to see what's going on. They pause for a moment, and you start to become a bit suspicious before Jiseok heads out and Jooyeon turns back to you.
"Don't feel guilty. You help me all the time, even when it's annoying."
His earnestness softens you yet again. You sigh with a smile, handing the warm stack of papers to him. "All right, then, here. As long as you tell Jiseok that I'm not leading you on."
At that, Jooyeon laughs, holding your papers against his chest and opening the door to let both of you out.
"What's wrong with being led sometimes?"
—
five;
You want to go home. You want to go home and take a shower and change into soft clothes and cry yourself to sleep in your bed.
Your breaths escape you in soft hisses between your hands. Your hands, damp despite having wiped the sweat from them a minute or two ago, press hard into your face. The fan on your desk whirs gently.
"Seonsaengnim?"
Shit.
Inhaling, you tear your hands from your face and reach for your water bottle, leaning back and taking a long sip of water to excuse your late reply. "Yes?"
"It's Jooyeon." You know. There's a lengthy pause behind the door before he continues, uncharacteristically tentative, "Can I come in?"
You probably look like a wreck. "Sure."
The door opens. You fiddle with the cap of your water bottle, not meeting Jooyeon's eyes as he steps in and carefully closes the door behind him.
Clearing your throat, you say wryly, "Sorry, no art lesson today."
"I know. I just heard about what happened." He looks down at you, brow furrowed. "Really, it's messed up."
"I just ... can't, sometimes." The frustration suddenly escapes you in a burst. You feel hot. "The parents want me to teach their kid. I can't teach them because they're busy bullying other students. I can't discipline them because I'm not their parent. I scold them for scratching another kid and the parents threaten to report me and tell me I should be fired. What am I supposed to do?"
Jooyeon bites the inside of his cheek. "... I don't know," he mutters. "At least you know you're not going to be fired."
You laugh, bitter. "Yeah. This time."
Resting your elbows on the desk again, you rub your temples, willing the sting behind your eyes to go away.
Movement from Jooyeon's position catches your attention. Your chair swivels and then he's close, almost too close, hands gripping the arm rests tightly as he says your title with conviction.
"You worked fucking hard for that title. If the school ever decides to throw you away because of shitty parents, then it's a shitty school and the rest of us should quit."
Your bottom lip trembles almost imperceptibly. "That's not fair to the kids."
"We'll open a new school for them."
"Their parents will still be shitty."
"I—come on!" Jooyeon whines as you chuckle wetly, shaking your chair with a pout. "I'm trying my best to comfort you here."
"I know," you say, wiping half a tear from your eye before grinning up at him. His expression lightens, and he lets go of your chair, only to continue hovering close. "Thank you."
He smiles back.
—
+ one;
"Seonsaengnim!" The sudden boom after hours of silence causes you to jump about ten feet in the air. You snap your head towards the door to see Jooyeon, who grins and waves at you. "Hi."
"Jooyeon-ssaem, you scared the crap out of me," you scold. The man's grin only broadens, and you shake your head, leaving the craft table to walk over to him. "What are you doing here? It's the weekend."
Jooyeon scratches the back of his head. "Ah … I forgot to finish some paperwork," he admits. "So I figured I should do it now before I forget again and get in trouble."
You raise your eyebrows. "Thinking ahead? That's new."
His eyelids crinkle at the corners as he laughs. That's Jooyeon for you—always taking your teases in stride. "You're so mean," he exclaims. "I was gonna say that I also came in because you said you were gonna be here today, but maybe you don't deserve my help."
"No, no, no, wait," you say quickly. Maybe a little too quickly, judging by the way his eyes glint. "I meant to say that you're proactive and hardworking and really helpful. Like, you always ask if I need help when you have time, because you're that nice."
He waves you off, feigning modesty. "Ah, please, I'm just doing my part. Anyway, do you need any help?"
"I thought you had paperwork?"
"It can wait for a little bit," he says dismissively. He leans to peek around you, then trots over to the craft table. "This is what you're working on?" He picks at one of the many small, triangular flags strewn over your table.
"Yep. The kids designed their own flag, and I'm putting them together to hang around the classroom. Oh!" You pick up one of the younger students' flags, showing Jooyeon a doodle of two stick figures. "Guess whose this is?"
Jooyeon squints at it for a few moments. Then he breaks into a smile and snickers, holding the other side of the flag in such a way that his fingertips meet yours underneath the paper.
"Shit, that's me! This's gotta be Hongseok's flag." He points at the taller stick figure, squiggled ponytail and all, running after the shorter stick figure. "This isn't true, by the way. He's never actually beaten me in a race yet."
"Really?" A proud nod. "Congrats on winning against a nine-year-old."
"He's the fastest kid in his class!"
You snort, letting go of the flag to cross your arms. "Y'know, most adults would let him win at least once. To encourage him?"
At that, Jooyeon shakes his head. "Nine-year-olds are smart enough to catch onto stuff like that. I'm teaching him persistence," he says. "Plus, I told him if he ever beat me, he wouldn't have to do P.E. for the rest of the year. I don't think the principal would like that."
"Ah, geez."
He sets the flag down with care, placing it where it had been before you'd picked it up. His eyes meet yours before he leans in conspiratorially. Your skin prickles in delight, even more so when his voice dips the slightest bit lower to accommodate the close proximity.
"I was the Hongseok in my class. It's bad to have favorites, but you won't tell on me, right?"
You swallow. "How can I, when you're my favorite teacher?"
"Aw, I am?"
"Don't look so smug. You already know that."
"I do?"
He seems to lean closer. The sunlight streaming through the window hits his skin and turns his eyes amber.
You have the sense to pull away and fuss with your flag project, adjusting the spacing for no particular reason. Dammit. You wish you had the guts to say something.
Jooyeon sticks by you nonetheless, still chipper.
"Since I'm your favorite teacher," he says, "do you want to take a lap around the track?"
You blink at him. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah, of course."
"I'm working."
"And how much have you gotten done since you started talking to me?" You open your mouth to protest, but he powers forward. "Just one lap. Exercise is important. Come on," he urges, shaking your shoulder. "It'll just be you and me. Don't you want to try to beat me in a race?"
You narrow your eyes. "'Try'?"
"Well, you said it yourself that you're slow."
And that's how you end up outside, tightening the knots of your shoelaces as Jooyeon hops up and down next to you on the school's running track.
"Ready yet?"
"Yep." You stand up and stretch your arms half-heartedly, wondering how liking your coworker this much has led to this situation.
"Okay," he chirps, leaning forward into position. You copy him. "One lap. Three, two, one, go!"
With that, Lee Jooyeon leaves you in the dust, practically halfway around the track by the time you register what had happened.
Gritting your teeth, you chase after him, pumping your arms in an attempt to catch up. He looks back more than once to see how far you are behind him, and you make a face at him whenever he does so. The promise of only one lap disappears from the back of your mind as you continue running after him after he's crossed the starting line.
"What! I won already!" he yells over his shoulder, fleeing to the grassy area inside the track.
"Yeah, so let me give you your prize!"
"No way!"
Still, he eventually stops short, whether out of belated pity or fatigue, and you barrel into him with reckless abandon.
The grass is slightly damp. Jooyeon topples over, bringing you along with him, and the two of you land with a groan.
"Ow, shit."
"Sorry."
"Nah, it's okay."
With him on his back and you on your stomach, one of your arms splayed across his chest, you start to remove yourself from him to push yourself up. A hand closes around your wrist before you can fully do so.
"Wait," Jooyeon says quickly, breathless. You lock eyes with him; his face is flushed and his gaze is wide. "What's my prize?"
You struggle to catch your breath. It seems much harder to do now. "I thought you didn't want it."
"I changed my mind."
"Hm." The sound that leaves your throat is rough. How can it not be, when Lee Jooyeon is staring up at you like that? You wet your lips and he seems to lock onto the movement. There are a million ways to answer him, but your mind is fuzzy from adrenaline and the lack of distance, and the only thing you can come up with is, "What if you don't like it?"
"I'll like it." There's not a shred of doubt in his tone, but it's raspy. "Pretty sure you'll like it too."
It's all the encouragement you need.
His other hand moves to the back of your head as you lean down and press your lips to his.
It's a short one. The groan Jooyeon lets out is enough to make you dizzy and his mouth is so soft you want to melt into it, but your stupid lungs still feel like they're going to collapse and you pull away to save them. Blood pounds in your ears, your chest heaving against his, and you almost don't know where your breaths stop and his begin.
Finally, you break the silence. "Does this mean we're work spouses now?"
Jooyeon stares at you, flabbergasted. "We better be more than that," he retorts, "'cause I'm gonna want you on top of me every single day."
You tap his chest, shushing him, and he laughs, pulling you in to peck your lips once more. And it's just as good as the first time.
You can feel it in the way the streetlights are starting to blur together, and the way the world seems to tilt whenever you take a step forward.
You really shouldn’t have worn heels today because now your feet hurt. You let out a pained groan as you try to balance on the death traps disguised as footwear that you’re wearing. Five minutes away from your apartment, you stumble to a stop turning to Gunil with a pout.
“I’m tired.” You mumble, pressing yourself into Gunil’s side. “Carry me home.”
“We’re just five minutes away, baby.” Gunil says, trying to sound exasperated. But his laugh is fond and honey drips off his voice as he wraps an arm around you.
He’s warm. You could fall asleep like this, stood in the middle of the street, clinging to your boyfriend.
“But,” You whine, dragging out the syllables, “I’m drunk.”
Gunil’s eyes crinkle as he smiles. A simple “I know” rolls of his tongue, but when he reaches down to pull you up in his arms, you hear what he actually means anyway. I love you.
You giggle, burying your face into the crook of his neck as he starts walking again, you anchored safely into his arms. “Thank you.” You say, kissing his nose.
“What would you do without me?” Gunil’s chuckle reminds you of a gentle warmth, the kind that makes flowers bloom.
You spot the pink creeping up on Gunil’s cheeks and grin. “Probably not get home.”
“I spoil you too much.” Gunil mutters, shaking his head, but the smile won’t leave his face.
He’s beautiful. You can’t see any stars above your head but you find them in Gunil’s eyes anyway. Maybe it was the alcohol making you sentimental but you can’t stop staring at him. Gunil’s love is soft, quiet teases and adoring smiles, cheesy jokes and gentle hands.
The kind of love that turned your house into a home.
That thought is enough to make tears spring into your eyes and you bury your face into Gunil’s neck. “Thank you for carrying me.” You whisper against his skin.
Gunil tilts his head. “Thank you for letting me carry you.”
The words sound like a confession. You’re my home too.
And then, because he’s Gunil, he pretends like he’s about to drop you and you squeal, clutching to his shoulders even though you know he would never let you fall. He laughs when you yell at him and you’re too lost in him to not grin back.
There’s an overwhelming amount of beauty everywhere but in your opinion the way Gunil makes your heart race is the most beautiful thing in the world.
hello! I recently read some of your writing and OH MY GOD ITS SO CUTE!!! it's so adorable how you write for each member especially jooyeon... like I would put your writing in a blender and drink it ☹️ please keep writing, i love your fics sm 💗
thank you!!! that makes me so happy :)) there's more to come, even if the going is slow hahahaha
Hi! I wanted to know if I could request a writing with Jooyeon x reader where Jooyeon is a nonidol and a p.e. teacher, while the reader is also a teacher at the same school. Maybe like an art teacher or normal homeroom teacher for the reader? Or whatever you think is best and will make sense. I know it will be amazing since I have loved all of your writings they are so so good! :D I hope this makes sense since it is my first time requesting something.
A FOR EFFORT?
── .✦ pairing; teacher!jooyeon x teacher!gn!reader
── .✦ summary; five times jooyeon is in the running for the position of your work spouse, and one time you run for the position of his.
── .✦ word count; ~4.1k
── .✦ tags; swearing, slightly suggestive near the end, teacher au, fluff, humor, (inaccurate depiction of teaching in korea/teaching in general), (i apologize to those who read this and actually teach tysm for your hard work)
── .✦ a/n; thank you for the request anon!!! i'm sorry for the delay </3 for plot purposes reader is an art teacher hehe
prelude;
Two weeks after Lee Jooyeon comes onboard at your elementary school as the new physical education teacher, he approaches you in the teacher's room and asks, a grave look on his face, if you have a work spouse already.
"Work spouse?" you repeat, perplexed. "Why do you ask?"
"Hyeongjun said that your work spouse is probably Seungmin. Is he?"
"Well, I guess it would make sense since we both started working here at the same time. But no." The sigh of relief that escapes him makes you crack a smile. "Do you have a work spouse, Seonsaengnim?"
At that, Jooyeon throws you a crooked grin. His boyish reply sends a rush of blood to your cheeks.
"No, not yet." You nod in acknowledgment, looking down with the excuse of organizing your papers. You think that is the end of the conversation until he continues: "How can I get one?"
"Huh?"
"How can I get a work spouse?"
You shrug, laughing a bit at the absurdity of the question, even as a younger part of you flirts with hope. "I don't know," you reply. Jooyeon just stares at you expectantly, and your chuckle turns awkward. "Help them prep materials for their class? Listen to them complain about overbearing parents?"
"Those things would work?"
"I mean, they're nice things to do. Anybody would appreciate it."
"Yes, 'cause I'm lazy and love complaining." You push your sleeves back up and return your attention to your computer screen, scooting into your desk. "Anything else I can help you with before we get back to work, Seonsaengnim?"
A thoughtful hum leaves his throat, low and sonorous. "No, that's it," he eventually replies. "Thank you."
"Of course," you say as he excuses himself, and as he shuffles off to wherever he had come from, your head turns on its own volition to watch him leave.
Work spouse. How cute. You're curious to see what he does with your advice, if only to see if he really means to use it on you.
—
one;
"Good morning, Seonsaengnim!"
Hurried steps soon follow, and you turn, astonished.
"Am I dreaming?" you say by way of greeting, not believing your eyes or ears as Jooyeon skids to a stop. You glance down at the two cups in his possession. "You're thirty minutes early?"
"Yep," Jooyeon says proudly. His expression is bright, though his somewhat rumpled appearance tells you the cost of rolling out of bed earlier than usual. "I wanted to make sure you had time to drink this."
He offers one of the cups to you. You take it gratefully and read the sleeve, your eyebrows shooting up as you recognize the name of your favorite coffee shop. You think you've only mentioned it once to him in passing.
"How do you know how I take my coffee?"
"I asked Jiseokie."
Ah, so that's why he had asked everyone yesterday.
Delaying opening the door to blow into the cup and take a sip, you make a pleased sound as the blend hits your tongue. It isn't your exact order, but it's pretty damn close, and it's good. And it isn't too hot.
"Good?" Jooyeon ventures expectantly.
"Good," you confirm, smiling and turning to open the door. "Thank you, Seonsaengnim."
He follows you into the school and drinks from his own cup of coffee.
"What did you get?" you ask.
He sounds almost proud when he replies. "Iced Americano."
"Is that your usual?"
He takes another swig. You get your answer when you glance to the side and catch the grimace on his face. "… No, I like frappés better …"
You snort, elbowing him gently. "Then why did you get that?"
"The caffeine," he answers. "I wanted to be more awake when I told you good morning."
Oh.
"… Oh," you say, touched. "Well, you've made my morning for sure."
Jooyeon grins. If he had a tail, you think it would be wagging right now.
—
two;
The feeling of Jooyeon hovering over your shoulder is nothing particularly new, but it still makes you nervous and giddy at the same time.
"Yes, Seonsaengnim?"
"Nothing, just watching," he replies, then inevitably follows up with, "what kind of art is this?"
You continue squeezing glue onto the piece of fabric pressed out on the counter, trying to keep the lines from being too gloopy. "I'm doing a few lessons on textiles, and we're going to do batik two days from now. It's a Javanese dyeing technique that creates patterns using hot wax," you explain. "I'll have the kids use glue instead of wax, though."
"Oh, I think I remember doing that in school! Can I try?"
"Sure." You pause to gesture to the nearby stack of fabric squares. "You can draw out your own design on the fabric or trace from the design I printed out."
"I'll make my own design."
For the next five minutes, Jooyeon takes a pencil in hand and becomes deceptively quiet. You sense him glance over at you several times, but you keep your eyes on the standard design you'll be showing as an example, working on the petal edges and filling in the centers. When he mutters about glue, you direct him towards the supply cabinet without so much as sneaking a peek at his progress. You're not sure why. Maybe you just want the reveal to be all at once.
Around the time that you finish your own design, Jooyeon grunts happily. "Done," he announces, very student-like.
"That was pretty quick," you say, finally looking over and immediately stopping short. "Oh, that's … oh … wow."
Jooyeon had drawn a portrait. Of someone? You're actually not sure it's a person.
"It's you," he says, and you struggle not to choke. The corners of his eyes crinkle at the ungodly sound, but your embarrassment quickly fades as he starts cackling. "Abstractly, maybe. What, you don't like it? I worked so hard!"
"No, it's great," you wheeze. "Looks just like me. Can I show it as an example to the students?"
"Well, yeah. Wait, let me sign it." Tongue sticking out slightly, Jooyeon glues his name into the corner with a flourish. "Is that good?"
"Perfect." You mean it genuinely and he beams. "We can paint them tomorrow, if you have time."
"I'll make time, Seonsaengnim."
He helps you put the supplies away and store your pieces somewhere where they won't get bothered. Only then does he sheepishly mutter something about working on his own lesson plan for tomorrow, leading to you quickly ushering him out of the art room.
Once he is gone, you return to the portrait he had made and giggle until you have to sit down. You're flattered—really.
—
three;
"Those girls over at the far end of the swings," Seungmin brings your attention to a trio of students during recess. "They're up to something."
"Looks like they're picking flowers." You watch the three students from the Camellia class as they shuffle through the grass to pick dandelions. The yellow flowers are starting to crop up all over the schoolyard, much to the vice principal's chagrin. "Jiwoo's been making dandelion chains for the past week."
"No ..." Seungmin scratches his neck. "They've been looking over here for the past five minutes and giggling."
You snort. "Maybe they want to give their handsome moral education teacher flowers."
Dismissive of Seungmin's observation, you turn your attention to the more rambunctious group of students playing soccer. One of them attempts a giant swing of a kick only to miss and fall backwards in the process, but she gets back up in no time to run after everyone else.
Eventually, you hear someone calling for a teacher.
"Seonsaengnim!"
You smile as the three girls from earlier run towards you and Seungmin. All three have a chain of dandelions around their necks, and the ringleader, Jiwoo, has a small bundle of long-stemmed dandelions and smaller white flowers tied together with a piece of grass.
"What is it, girls?" you ask. "You all look so nice with your necklaces."
"Thank you," Jiwoo says modestly. The other two glance at each other and giggle but say nothing. "We have something for you."
To your slight but pleasant surprise, she presents the bouquet to you.
"Wow!" says Seungmin next to you. "We have such thoughtful students, Seonsaengnim."
"We do," you say proudly, taking the bouquet. "Thank you, girls."
They look at you and giggle to each other again. You start to get a little perplexed when they linger, until—
"They're from Coach!" Chaeyoung blurts, then gasps and covers her mouth.
You blink. "... Coach?" Jiwoo glares at her friend, and all three girls blush guiltily. You bend down a bit and smile at them to hide your sudden concern. "Did he tell you to do this?"
It takes a moment of silent debating amongst the group, but finally, Jiyoo speaks up, her voice tiny and nervous. "No. But we heard Seonsaengnim tell Coach about liking the dandelions yesterday, and Coach said he wished he was on recess duty today to get you some, a-and ... we wanted to do something nice for Seonsaengnim and Coach."
Your tongue nearly ties itself up into a knot. Shit. You thought it had just been the two of you in the hallway yesterday, away from the kids, but you should've known by now that even the walls have ears. At least you know that Jooyeon has the sense not to purposely involve the kids with this. You avoid meeting Seungmin's eyes for fear that he might say something stupid in front of your students.
While you gather your thoughts, Jiyoo begins to sniff. "I'm sorry for eavesdropping, Seonsaengnim!" she exclaims. "I know you said we're not supposed to!"
Jiwoo and Chaeyoung shift anxiously, eyes downcast. You quickly kneel to soothe Jiyoo and reassure the other two. "Hey, hey," you say softly. "You're not in trouble. I know you three meant to do something nice, and it was very nice to pick me all these beautiful flowers. But Jiyoo-ya is right that we shouldn't eavesdrop. Coach and I were having a private conversation. And whatever is in a private conversation should stay between those two people unless someone is getting hurt, right?"
"Yes ..."
You pat Jiyoo's shoulders and smile at Jiwoo and Chaeyoung.
Jiwoo opens her mouth, then closes it, bringing her friends closer before addressing you. "Seonsaengnim ... can the flowers be from us instead, then?"
Ah, your heart melts a bit. You nod and stroke the bouquet, pressing the flowers to your nose and taking a big whiff. "Of course. I'll put them in a nice cup of water so they can stay on my desk. Thank you."
With all the bad feelings assuaged and a lesson learned, the girls are satisfied and return to playing, and you stand back up, sighing in relief.
"Wow." Seungmin plays with the lanyard hanging from his neck, and you cast him a withering glance as he raises an eyebrow at you. "So even the kids know."
"Seonsaengnim, we're on duty."
He shrugs, taking in a deep breath of sun-filled air. You look back out at your students running and laughing across the schoolyard before he speaks again.
"It's so simple for them. If you like someone, you don't have to worry about their five-year plan or family or Internet history or whatever. You just like them and give them flowers."
"Yeah." You hold your bouquet to your chest, wondering what Jooyeon will say when you tell him that your precious students have beaten him to it. "Kids are lucky."
—
four;
"You know, Seonsaengnim," Jiseok, the science teacher, tells you while you're photocopying extra portrait examples for tomorrow's class, "one might classify you as a homewrecker."
You sputter. "As a—sorry?"
"A homewrecker."
The printer continues to churn out Joseon-period court officials. You glance down at the faces, then at Jiseok, who leans against the overworked machine and returns your questioning gaze with a solemn one.
"Can you ... elaborate on that?" you plead.
"Of course. I'm referring to how my work bestie, Lee Jooyeon, is leaving me for the art teacher." Jiseok shakes his head. "Do you know how hard I've vouched for bridging the gap between the arts and sciences? I've coordinated lessons with you. Both of you have betrayed me!"
A snort leaves your nose. "Oh. You worried me for a second."
"You should be, Seonsaengnim. Even though Jooyeon is single and very available in terms of his personal life, the professional relationship between Jooyeon and me is essential for this school's ecosystem. If it is altered in any way, the effect would be disastrous."
"I don't see how your guys' relationship can get any more disastrous."
Before Jiseok can give a verbal reply, the door opens. Both of you look over, wide-eyed, at the sudden appearance of—well, Jooyeon.
"Hi," he says. "What are you guys doing?"
"Photocopying things in the photocopying room," you say as Jiseok wanders over to the neighboring photocopier to gather his own papers. "What are you doing?"
"Yeah," Jiseok drawls, a shit-eating grin on his face. "What are you doing, Jooyeon-ah?"
"The light was on, so I wanted to turn it off if nobody was in here," Jooyeon says, even though the door has a window. He turns to you. "I can carry your papers for you, Seonsaengnim."
You wave your hands. "You don't have to. I can do it."
"I want to do it."
"It makes me feel a little guilty, though."
With raised eyebrows, Jiseok slips past the two of you, throwing you two exaggerated thumbs ups behind Jooyeon's back before the latter turns to see what's going on. They pause for a moment, and you start to become a bit suspicious before Jiseok heads out and Jooyeon turns back to you.
"Don't feel guilty. You help me all the time, even when it's annoying."
His earnestness softens you yet again. You sigh with a smile, handing the warm stack of papers to him. "All right, then, here. As long as you tell Jiseok that I'm not leading you on."
At that, Jooyeon laughs, holding your papers against his chest and opening the door to let both of you out.
"What's wrong with being led sometimes?"
—
five;
You want to go home. You want to go home and take a shower and change into soft clothes and cry yourself to sleep in your bed.
Your breaths escape you in soft hisses between your hands. Your hands, damp despite having wiped the sweat from them a minute or two ago, press hard into your face. The fan on your desk whirs gently.
"Seonsaengnim?"
Shit.
Inhaling, you tear your hands from your face and reach for your water bottle, leaning back and taking a long sip of water to excuse your late reply. "Yes?"
"It's Jooyeon." You know. There's a lengthy pause behind the door before he continues, uncharacteristically tentative, "Can I come in?"
You probably look like a wreck. "Sure."
The door opens. You fiddle with the cap of your water bottle, not meeting Jooyeon's eyes as he steps in and carefully closes the door behind him.
Clearing your throat, you say wryly, "Sorry, no art lesson today."
"I know. I just heard about what happened." He looks down at you, brow furrowed. "Really, it's messed up."
"I just ... can't, sometimes." The frustration suddenly escapes you in a burst. You feel hot. "The parents want me to teach their kid. I can't teach them because they're busy bullying other students. I can't discipline them because I'm not their parent. I scold them for scratching another kid and the parents threaten to report me and tell me I should be fired. What am I supposed to do?"
Jooyeon bites the inside of his cheek. "... I don't know," he mutters. "At least you know you're not going to be fired."
You laugh, bitter. "Yeah. This time."
Resting your elbows on the desk again, you rub your temples, willing the sting behind your eyes to go away.
Movement from Jooyeon's position catches your attention. Your chair swivels and then he's close, almost too close, hands gripping the arm rests tightly as he says your title with conviction.
"You worked fucking hard for that title. If the school ever decides to throw you away because of shitty parents, then it's a shitty school and the rest of us should quit."
Your bottom lip trembles almost imperceptibly. "That's not fair to the kids."
"We'll open a new school for them."
"Their parents will still be shitty."
"I—come on!" Jooyeon whines as you chuckle wetly, shaking your chair with a pout. "I'm trying my best to comfort you here."
"I know," you say, wiping half a tear from your eye before grinning up at him. His expression lightens, and he lets go of your chair, only to continue hovering close. "Thank you."
He smiles back.
—
+ one;
"Seonsaengnim!" The sudden boom after hours of silence causes you to jump about ten feet in the air. You snap your head towards the door to see Jooyeon, who grins and waves at you. "Hi."
"Jooyeon-ssaem, you scared the crap out of me," you scold. The man's grin only broadens, and you shake your head, leaving the craft table to walk over to him. "What are you doing here? It's the weekend."
Jooyeon scratches the back of his head. "Ah … I forgot to finish some paperwork," he admits. "So I figured I should do it now before I forget again and get in trouble."
You raise your eyebrows. "Thinking ahead? That's new."
His eyelids crinkle at the corners as he laughs. That's Jooyeon for you—always taking your teases in stride. "You're so mean," he exclaims. "I was gonna say that I also came in because you said you were gonna be here today, but maybe you don't deserve my help."
"No, no, no, wait," you say quickly. Maybe a little too quickly, judging by the way his eyes glint. "I meant to say that you're proactive and hardworking and really helpful. Like, you always ask if I need help when you have time, because you're that nice."
He waves you off, feigning modesty. "Ah, please, I'm just doing my part. Anyway, do you need any help?"
"I thought you had paperwork?"
"It can wait for a little bit," he says dismissively. He leans to peek around you, then trots over to the craft table. "This is what you're working on?" He picks at one of the many small, triangular flags strewn over your table.
"Yep. The kids designed their own flag, and I'm putting them together to hang around the classroom. Oh!" You pick up one of the younger students' flags, showing Jooyeon a doodle of two stick figures. "Guess whose this is?"
Jooyeon squints at it for a few moments. Then he breaks into a smile and snickers, holding the other side of the flag in such a way that his fingertips meet yours underneath the paper.
"Shit, that's me! This's gotta be Hongseok's flag." He points at the taller stick figure, squiggled ponytail and all, running after the shorter stick figure. "This isn't true, by the way. He's never actually beaten me in a race yet."
"Really?" A proud nod. "Congrats on winning against a nine-year-old."
"He's the fastest kid in his class!"
You snort, letting go of the flag to cross your arms. "Y'know, most adults would let him win at least once. To encourage him?"
At that, Jooyeon shakes his head. "Nine-year-olds are smart enough to catch onto stuff like that. I'm teaching him persistence," he says. "Plus, I told him if he ever beat me, he wouldn't have to do P.E. for the rest of the year. I don't think the principal would like that."
"Ah, geez."
He sets the flag down with care, placing it where it had been before you'd picked it up. His eyes meet yours before he leans in conspiratorially. Your skin prickles in delight, even more so when his voice dips the slightest bit lower to accommodate the close proximity.
"I was the Hongseok in my class. It's bad to have favorites, but you won't tell on me, right?"
You swallow. "How can I, when you're my favorite teacher?"
"Aw, I am?"
"Don't look so smug. You already know that."
"I do?"
He seems to lean closer. The sunlight streaming through the window hits his skin and turns his eyes amber.
You have the sense to pull away and fuss with your flag project, adjusting the spacing for no particular reason. Dammit. You wish you had the guts to say something.
Jooyeon sticks by you nonetheless, still chipper.
"Since I'm your favorite teacher," he says, "do you want to take a lap around the track?"
You blink at him. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah, of course."
"I'm working."
"And how much have you gotten done since you started talking to me?" You open your mouth to protest, but he powers forward. "Just one lap. Exercise is important. Come on," he urges, shaking your shoulder. "It'll just be you and me. Don't you want to try to beat me in a race?"
You narrow your eyes. "'Try'?"
"Well, you said it yourself that you're slow."
And that's how you end up outside, tightening the knots of your shoelaces as Jooyeon hops up and down next to you on the school's running track.
"Ready yet?"
"Yep." You stand up and stretch your arms half-heartedly, wondering how liking your coworker this much has led to this situation.
"Okay," he chirps, leaning forward into position. You copy him. "One lap. Three, two, one, go!"
With that, Lee Jooyeon leaves you in the dust, practically halfway around the track by the time you register what had happened.
Gritting your teeth, you chase after him, pumping your arms in an attempt to catch up. He looks back more than once to see how far you are behind him, and you make a face at him whenever he does so. The promise of only one lap disappears from the back of your mind as you continue running after him after he's crossed the starting line.
"What! I won already!" he yells over his shoulder, fleeing to the grassy area inside the track.
"Yeah, so let me give you your prize!"
"No way!"
Still, he eventually stops short, whether out of belated pity or fatigue, and you barrel into him with reckless abandon.
The grass is slightly damp. Jooyeon topples over, bringing you along with him, and the two of you land with a groan.
"Ow, shit."
"Sorry."
"Nah, it's okay."
With him on his back and you on your stomach, one of your arms splayed across his chest, you start to remove yourself from him to push yourself up. A hand closes around your wrist before you can fully do so.
"Wait," Jooyeon says quickly, breathless. You lock eyes with him; his face is flushed and his gaze is wide. "What's my prize?"
You struggle to catch your breath. It seems much harder to do now. "I thought you didn't want it."
"I changed my mind."
"Hm." The sound that leaves your throat is rough. How can it not be, when Lee Jooyeon is staring up at you like that? You wet your lips and he seems to lock onto the movement. There are a million ways to answer him, but your mind is fuzzy from adrenaline and the lack of distance, and the only thing you can come up with is, "What if you don't like it?"
"I'll like it." There's not a shred of doubt in his tone, but it's raspy. "Pretty sure you'll like it too."
It's all the encouragement you need.
His other hand moves to the back of your head as you lean down and press your lips to his.
It's a short one. The groan Jooyeon lets out is enough to make you dizzy and his mouth is so soft you want to melt into it, but your stupid lungs still feel like they're going to collapse and you pull away to save them. Blood pounds in your ears, your chest heaving against his, and you almost don't know where your breaths stop and his begin.
Finally, you break the silence. "Does this mean we're work spouses now?"
Jooyeon stares at you, flabbergasted. "We better be more than that," he retorts, "'cause I'm gonna want you on top of me every single day."
You tap his chest, shushing him, and he laughs, pulling you in to peck your lips once more. And it's just as good as the first time.
the completed set of crunchy ms paint xdinary heroes rock the world lilac class art... finally did lilac gunil and jungsu cos im seeing them in august and had to rewatch
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Also, I love your writings they are amazing! But make sure you don't overwork yourself! Take all the time you need to rest. We all appreciate you <3
thank you!!! that means a lot to me 💞 i haven't written a lot lately for xdh because i've been busy with/tired from #work but i do have a bunch of drafts hahahaha :) i rest when i can! don't worry!!!
You have probably seen this by now but Junhan's hand/finger tattoos omg and his cherry red hair! :○ the tattoos are so cool and I like how dainty they are and the red looks so good on him! :D
his finger tattoos UGH they suit him so well and they look even better with the black nail polish!!! i saw a clip of him talking abt them but i didn't have a translation so idk the meaning behind them if he explained it :')
and the hair!!! whenever i see a new color i think about how fried his hair must be LOL but cherry red is so pretty :) esp when they make it wavy/curly (i LOVE junhan w longer wavy/curly hair cause i think it's cute hehe)
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a/n: this isn’t titled “untitled” just to be cool and mysterious. I’m just severely stressed and can’t think of what I’d even wanna name this. “mel likes very specific parts of people’s faces and wanted to make this just to compliment some of my favorite features on xdinary heroes”? idk man the melatonin isn’t working and I’m TIRED
warning(s): mention of death in Junhan’s (very unserious), maybe very little swearing (I always include this because I do be slipping up and cussing for no reason so if there’s no swearing then SURPRISE)
── .✦ tags; alcohol use, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, fluff, small town romance, childhood best friends to lovers, not actually unrequited love, seungmom™, momsu™, the mortifying idea of being known
── .✦ a/n; still alive!!! happy valentine's day everyone n just know that i am sending you all a big heart <3
Stifled and sweaty inside your layers of winter wear, the heat in the car turned up to the max, you sit boneless in the passenger seat and wish for the summer.
"We missed you, you know," Seungmin says behind the wheel. He seems unfazed by the temperature, not a drop of sweat on his brow. "Now we'll get to hang out again like we used to."
You hum.
The reason the heat is still blasting is because you had told Seungmin earlier that the plane was freezing. Telling him that it's too hot now feels like an inconvenience, and you don't feel like removing your coat.
"I visited in September," you say.
Your cousin sniffs loudly, the telltale sign that he's about to start nagging. "That was three months ago," he says, "and you've called maybe twice since then." You lean against the window, closing your eyes when the cold glass sticks to the side of your head. "And you mostly slept the whole time. Plus, you completely avoided Jungsu, who didn't even know you were visiting home—"
You keep your eyes firmly closed when his name comes up. "Does he know what happened?"
"I didn't tell him …" He trails off, and your heart sinks before he even continues. "But … Auntie must've, because he confronted me about it last week. I'm sorry. You know how your mom is." His tone is softly apologetic as you exhale. "He was pretty hurt you didn't tell him yourself."
You know.
That had been your plan, telling Jungsu. But the shame hasn't eased like you had hoped, and before you knew it, two weeks had passed and it currently roils in your stomach along with guilt when you think about seeing Jungsu in person now.
You just didn't want him to know you're a failure.
"Maybe this is for the best." Seungmin turns into the exit, calm despite the flurries of snow flying into the windshield. The roads have long since been salted and you think you can feel each chunk being ground to dust underneath the tires. "Think of it as a time to finally rest? All you did for the past two years was work."
"I got laid off right before the holidays, Seungmin. This isn't really a vacation."
His eyes dart over to meet yours for a split second before you look out at the snow-covered fields blurring by.
Seungmin sighs a little. His hand finds your shoulder, patting it through the winter layers.
"I know. Just trying to help."
That's all anyone in this town ever does, you think, the sounds of the heater and the rumble of the tires taking over what's left of the conversation.
—
Your childhood bedroom is the same as you had left it. Well, mostly; the decade-old bedsheets have since been cleaned, and there are fresh tracks in the carpet from when your mother had vacuumed earlier today. You leave your suitcases and bags by your desk to unpack later.
"Auntie told me to stay for dinner," Seungmin tells you, falling back onto your bed and unlocking his phone. "So you'll have to put up with me for a couple more hours, at least."
"You're not gonna help with dinner?"
"I offered, but I got permission to hang with you instead."
"Suck-up," you say, and Seungmin rolls his eyes upward, poking his cheek with one finger.
You join him on the bed, taking a peek at his messages. He lets you be nosy. This is what you do best when you spend time with Seungmin—even now, you guess, you're just a kid in grownup clothes, watching your cousin navigate life and relationships with a maturity you try your best to emulate. You envy him as much as you love him, sometimes.
While watching him catch up on his mutuals' Instagram posts, your own phone buzzes beside you. Reluctantly, you flip it over, and your mouth parts when you see the notification.
"Who is it?" Seungmin asks, eyes still glued to his screen.
"Um," you slowly swipe the lock screen away, "Jungsu."
His attention turns to you fully when you admit as much. "What'd he say?"
You open your messages, a little self-conscious as Seungmin scoots closer to see the conversation. The last time you'd texted Jungsu outside of the group chat was a month ago, when you were still blissfully unaware of the upcoming layoffs and merely amused by a funny animal video that reminded you of him. The thumbnail of the cuddly, sleep-rumpled kitty is halfway visible, Jungsu's emoji-filled reply nestled right between it and the text he had sent just now.
jungsu: was your flight okay?
"Does that sound … passive aggressive to you at all?" you ask tentatively.
Seungmin squints at the message, scratching his head. "Nah, I don't think so. He's just asking."
"Okay."
you: it was fine. seungmin picked me up ^^
jungsu: good!!
jungsu: i wish i could've gone to the airport too to welcome you ㅠㅠ
you: me too haha but it's ok
"He should be off work in about an hour," Seungmin tells you, then nudges your shoulder with his own. "You want him to come over for dinner? Your choice."
The thing is, you should say yes. It should be as natural as breathing, because that's how it had been for as long as you can remember, and because Jungsu is probably still a little upset even if he doesn't admit it.
But you hesitate, and Seungmin takes it as a no.
"If it's too many people, that's—"
"No, it's okay. I don't want to leave him out," you murmur, already typing.
Like Seungmin, Jungsu will be in your life until its unspectacular end. And despite how distant you've been lately, that is still where you want him to be.
you: seungmin's staying for dinner, u wanna come over too?
—
An hour later, the doorbell rings, and you open the door to a stiff breeze, stray snowflakes, and Kim Jungsu.
His nose and cheeks are rosy from the cold. The front bangs of his hair (blond, freshly dyed, longer) stick out from underneath the knitted cap he's had since high school, dusted with snow, and the white of his breath dissipates before it can reach the toasty threshold of your home.
(You think, as you always have, that he looks pretty.)
His eyelashes flutter when he meets your gaze.
You bite the bullet. "Hey."
"Hi," he breathes.
You move to let him inside. He quickly sheds his winter gear, and you get a whiff of ginger and fried food when he gives you a hug.
"Welcome home," he whispers before he pulls away. He smiles at you, and even though you look for it, you can't find a single drop of resentment.
You manage to give him a small smile in return. His hands are a bit cold when they squeeze yours once, but the rest of him is warm. You try not to linger too close.
"Yo, Jungsu!" Seungmin leans over the back of the couch just a few feet away, and Jungsu walks over to hug him as well. "How was work?"
"Good, just busy. Some out-of-towners are staying the night because of the storm warning."
"Oh." You trail after Jungsu and Seungmin to the kitchen, where your mother has set the food out. Jungsu greets your mother affectionately, and she responds in kind before filling her own plate and heading to the living room to allow the three of you to gossip. "Anyone our age?"
"Nope."
"Damn."
"You know the only people that pass through here are old couples and families with little kids," you say, settling into your chair. The arrangement is the usual one—you on the side closest to the sink, Seungmin on your right, Jungsu right across from you. "We've never had anybody our age stop here for the night."
Seungmin points at you with his spoon. "No, there was that one guy when we were in high school, remember? The one with the shady van. Our moms thought he was trying to sell us drugs."
"He told me he was an artist," Jungsu adds, "but the entire time he stayed at the inn, I didn't see any artwork or supplies. He just had a small duffel bag that he carried everywhere."
"Drugs," you say.
"Or money from drugs," Seungmin says.
"He was really creepy." Swallowing his food, Jungsu leans forward as if you hadn't talked about the strange man countless times before, on nights just like this. "But he paid for the two nights he was here."
"In cash, right?"
"Yeah."
"If he was an artist," you say, thoughtfully, "he would have painted the view behind the inn."
Jungsu nods with a smile. "I think so, too. I don't think an artist would've ignored it." His glance towards you sticks. You shift just slightly in your seat as he chews his bottom lip and then asks, tone careful, "Do you guys want to go tomorrow morning? The sunrise will be pretty after the snowstorm."
"Sure," Seungmin readily agrees. He raises his eyebrows at you. "[Y/n]? You game?"
You open your mouth for a reply that you haven't yet formed. "... Oh, um," you finally say, nervous from the two pairs of eyes peering over into yours, unassuming and familiar though they are. "I don't know. I'm kind of tired from the flight ..."
Seungmin's mouth presses into knowing disappointment at the corners. Jungsu blinks and nods; his hopeful smile shrinks the tiniest bit, though to you it might as well be by a mile.
"Ah, right, you should rest," Jungsu replies in a softer voice, and he reaches across to pat the space in front of your bowl. "Maybe later this week?"
You stir your food around. "Sure."
"I can still meet you at the inn tomorrow morning, Jungsu," Seungmin says. He keeps his gaze on you. "I'll leave at seven, so if [Y/n] is awake, we can walk there together. Sound good to you, [Y/n]?"
The offer is well-meaning. You wonder how much pity your cousin holds for you right now, for it certainly bleeds into your own self-pity, and there is not much for you to do in response other than bob your head half-heartedly. Underneath the table, Seungmin's foot bumps yours.
The three of you finish dinner in relative silence.
And yet, after you use your excuse of fatigue once more and hug them goodbye for the night, taking a hot shower and settling into bed, you set your alarm for a quarter to seven.
—
"You're here." Jungsu sounds surprised within the warmth of his scarf and winter jacket. "You're not too tired?"
You note how the snow rises up above your knees as you nod slowly. Jungsu's eyes crescent with a hidden grin, and he takes a hold of your arm as the three of you march across the yard towards the edge of the hill behind the Kim family's inn.
Jungsu's family has owned this property for several generations, but it was only during his granddad's generation that they had decided to develop it and make a bit of money off the folks who pass through your hometown. The building is a small thing, but it is clean and very well taken care of, and the meals are always warm.
The best part of the inn, however, is the view.
It's still pretty dark outside. You stop at a bench, brushing it off and sitting down between Jungsu and Seungmin while you observe the thin sliver of orange peeking out from behind the trees.
"It's too cold."
"Don't fall asleep," Seungmin teases. "You'll get hypothermia."
"I won't," you grumble, though your eyes are half-lidded. "Jungsu has the coffee, doesn't he?"
"Here," Jungsu says, handing a small thermos to you before suddenly retracting. "Ah, wait. It might still be too hot." He unscrews the lid, steam bursting upward into the icy morning air and then sideways as he blows over the top of the drink a few times, taking a tentative sip before deeming it acceptable to share. "Okay, here."
He brings the thermos almost to your lips, but then seems to think better of it and simply hands it over with a slight blush, though not quick enough to beat the blood crawling to your cheeks.
"Thanks, Mom," you mutter, drinking from the cup. Truthfully, the drink is more of a hot chocolate, with some instant coffee added in. You refrain from being greedy and pass it to Seungmin.
Mouth and throat and stomach now warmed, you settle back, watching the sky as the darkness slowly peels farther and farther back.
When you hold your breath, you can almost hear the sun stirring underneath the indigo.
"I think you're right, Jungsu," Seungmin says over the lip of the thermos. "This is going to be a really good sunrise."
"They're always extra beautiful after a storm."
"Wow. Deep."
"It's too early and cold for deep thoughts," you mutter.
Jungsu tilts his head. "Do you need more layers? We have some inside."
"Oh, no, it's okay. I'm just finding things to complain about ..." still, Jungsu's brow remains furrowed, and you stumble slightly over your words, "as one does ..."
"Have some more coffee," Seungmin says, pushing the thermos in your direction.
You do as you're told.
The red-orange dappling the clouds has given way to something light and golden. As the minutes creep by, the sun shows itself above the trees, a shock of bright yellow whose glow reaches out and up.
It's blinding, the light, but you look anyway, wondering how something you've seen a million times can still feel like the first.
"Wow," you state into the still air, mostly to yourself.
The boys hum in agreement. You continue staring at the sky, hearing Jungsu finish rest of the coffee and snap the lid shut.
"I have to pee," Seungmin says suddenly. "See you guys inside for breakfast?"
You blink rapidly. As your cousin stands up, leaving only you and Jungsu on the bench, the slightest bit of nerves overtakes you. "Oh, I—"
"Okay," Jungsu says at the same time you start to stand, and you freeze. He is still seated, though now he casts you a surprised glance. "Oh. Do you have to go too?"
You avoid Seungmin's eyes and slowly sit back down, shaking your head. "N-No, I just thought we were all going now. Let's stay for a few more minutes."
"... Alright."
The crunch of Seungmin's boots through the snow fades into the distance as the two of you look back at the pale sky. Golden sunlight brushes the expanse of snow at the bottom of the hill, smooth and bright.
You burrow your chin into your scarf, the winter morning showing its bite in exchange for the view it is granting you.
"It's really pretty."
Jungsu's soft voice breaks through the silence. His expression is one of perfect contentment; his eyes catch the early light in a gentle way, and you find yourself momentarily at a loss for words.
When he meets your gaze, you smile quickly with your eyes, and a laugh like a small bell escapes through his scarf.
"[Y/n]," he says, "I'm glad you showed up."
"You didn't think I would."
"I hoped you would. You usually do, even though you always complain about waking up early." Jungsu pauses for a moment, and then his gaze flickers downwards. "But ... I don't know. It's been a while, I guess, so I just didn't want to get my hopes up."
He doesn't have to specify that he's talking about more than just the sunrise.
"I'm sorry." The apology is quieter than you had thought it would be, and the shame speaks louder than you had anticipated. You clear your throat. "Are you still upset with me?"
"Honestly?" He sighs. "I was still pretty upset until yesterday. But then I went to your house, and you opened the door—and then, well. I was just happy that you were back."
Oh. "Oh," you say.
Jungsu is quiet again. He tugs on the fingers of his gloves, and you track the movement idly, hyperaware of the hands that those gloves keep warm, steady hands that hold and play and tap. You swallow. Your throat feels tight.
"Can you promise me something, though?"
"Yeah?"
"Just be honest with me from now on," he requests. "We're best friends. You can tell me anything, you know that, right?"
"I know, Jungsu." The sentence is little more than a breath, but he hears you nevertheless, and he smiles before making a noise of realization.
"Ah, right, we should head inside, huh? Seungmin's probably waiting."
"He's a patient guy ... it's cold, though."
"Yeah, you've mentioned that once or twice."
You chuckle sheepishly as Jungsu stands and holds out a hand, helping you up. The sun shines behind your heads while you walk back to the inn, shoulder-to-shoulder.
You think about what he had said, and about the feeling of his hand in yours, and your heart clenches as if in warning.
Anything, but not everything.
—
Two weeks pass, and the boys still find things to keep you busy nearly every day. You suspect that it is partially at the request of your parents and partially due to worry they had mustered on their own; you are currently unemployed, after all, and they fear that idleness will make you depressed or delinquent or some other "D" word that describes small-town people your age whose hopes and dreams have been crushed by the big bad world outside. If you occupy yourself with cooking dinners and buying groceries and taking snowy winter walks, you won't have time to spiral into despair (which also starts with "D").
Today, the activity is preparing classroom decorations for the new year. Seungmin has tasked you with making lanterns and people out of colored construction paper, and so you have cluttered the table in the corner of the inn's dining area with clippings of various colors, being careful not to drop any on the floor.
"Wouldn't it be easier to print a coloring page and cut them out?"Jungsu asks after he finishes cleaning the other tables, sleeves rolled up to his elbows in a way that looks too good to have been done thoughtlessly. He leans over your shoulder, and the back of your neck prickles with heat. "Where's Seungmin, anyway?"
"Went to the store to get more stickers and colored duct tape," you say, unsheathing a craft knife to tackle the more minute details. "He'll probably come back with snacks, too."
Jungsu hums. "You're good at this," he says, sitting down next to you and picking up a cutout. You had clothed it in layers of different-colored shapes of paper, and he inspects the hem of their skirt with the tips of his fingers. "I bet you could become a teacher's aide for Seungmin's classroom."
"Probably." You take the cutout from him to paste googly eyes onto it. "Waste of my degree, though."
"… Well … I don't think we have any good tech startups around here. Or any at all. Maybe an IT job?"
You remain noncommittal, cool, even as the thought of job hunting all over again fills you with gut-curling dread. "That's probably what I'll end up doing," you say. "Not like I'm going anywhere anytime soon."
Your voice must hold more bitterness than you think, because Jungsu looks a bit uncomfortable at your words, furrowing his brow.
"Is it really that bad to live here?"
Count on you to sour the mood again. "I—no," you reply slowly, "but I mean, come on, Jungsu. You know all the good-paying jobs for me are in the city, right?"
"Seungmin and I are doing okay," Jungsu defends.
"Your family has been here forever and runs a business here, so of course you'd stay. And Seungmin is Seungmin. He'll be okay wherever he is." You tilt the cutout back and forth. The googly eyes move in response. "But I'm just me. I have to take every opportunity I can so I don't waste my life."
Jungsu opens his mouth and then closes it. His lips purse, and you can tell that you've displeased him.
(Jungsu has always been the sentimental type. He has found his dreams within the realm of your hometown; even while you both had gone to college in the city and been dazzled by the promises of big careers and changing the world, in the end, he had kept his love for the simple comforts of family, the inn, and the known. And so he had come back to stay. You understand, and at the same time, you don't think you ever will.)
"I'm never going to change your mind," he replies, laughing a little dryly. "Am I?"
"Probably not."
"Geez ..." A long sigh escapes him. He fixes you with a wistful smile and picks up a pair of scissors. "Then I guess we should keep putting you to work while you're stuck here, wasting just part of your life."
You kick him underneath the table. Jungsu snickers, taking a sheet of paper to cut out the lantern trapped in the middle of it.
The box of permanent markers is on the other side of where he's seated. You stand up slightly to reach around him, hooking your fingers over the edge of plastic and dragging it closer.
"You could've just asked me to pass them to you."
"Well, you were being mean, so"—you make the mistake of turning your head to look at him, and promptly choke at the close proximity—"so, uh ... um ..."
He tilts his head unbearably slowly, blinking up at you with a look of both amusement and bewilderment as you make a fool of yourself once more. Your eyes trace down the slope of his nose and pause on his lips, and your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth.
"... Are you okay?"
Soft.
"I'm ffine," you blurt, sitting down swiftly with a hot face. You do your best to hide it from him. "Stop slacking and go back to work."
"Now who's being mean?"
Jungsu gets up after cutting out the rest of the lantern, pushing it and the offending box of markers closer towards you. He pats your back gently before sauntering off to continue his daily tasks.
—
"Aw, look. It's Ankle Sprain Seungmin."
Seungmin drops his head back against the couch. "Once again, that's the dumbest thing you guys could have ever called me. C minus. F, even."
"It's more about how you got it," you explain, elementary school yearbook propped up against your torso as you tap a scrawny, cheeky-looking Oh Seungmin in the corner of one page. "It was a warm spring day, and you just had to show Kim Hayeon that you could jump down from the top of the jungle gym." Seungmin rolls his eyes. Jungsu bites down on his bottom lip, muffling a laugh, and you continue somberly. "Instead, you sprained your ankle and we had to carry you to the nurse's office."
"It actually worked, though," Jungsu counters. "Because Hayeon came up to him afterwards and asked if he was okay."
"All part of the plan. She thought I broke my ankle and was pretty worried for me."
You give a thumbs down. "Boo. Lamest way to pick up a girl."
Your cousin shrugs and takes a swig of beer. He purses his lips, flicking at the tab of his now-empty can as he says casually, "Didn't you have a crush on our homeroom teacher in sixth grade?"
This time, Jungsu bursts into laughter. "Oh, my god, you totally did!"
You slam the yearbook shut, mortified, and hit Seungmin over the shoulder with it. The jerk doesn't even have the decency to look sorry. "Shut up! Why would you even bring that up?!"
"What, I can't counterattack?"
"You're older than me, so you have to put up with it."
Seungmin squints. "Shouldn't it be the other way around?"
"No! Jungsu, you're the oldest. Tell him to toughen up."
"Okay, okay," Jungsu steps in, hands out in a placating gesture even as he recovers from his laughing fit. "Let's just say you're both even now. We all had embarrassing crushes."
"Speaking of which, Jungsu, I only remember you having one crush in high school," Seungmin says. "What was her name? She was in choir."
"Oh Jimin," you answer.
You remember Oh Jimin.
"Yeah, Jimin. She had a really nice voice."
"She did," Jungsu agrees. "I was too nervous to ask her out, though. She actually got married last year to one of her classmates."
"Really?"
Seungmin pulls his phone out to show you the wedding photos on Instagram. You look with mild interest. She's beautiful, has that glow that brides have. Her smile is the same. You remember when it would reduce Jungsu to wide-eyed, red-faced silence.
Seeing her now makes you feel guilty for the resentment you held for her as a teenager.
"Seungmin, please get married soon," you say, attempting to redirect yourself. "People will start to think something's wrong with the three of us if you don't."
Seungmin raises an eyebrow. "Find me someone to date, first," he shoots back. "And why should it be me? Why don't you or Jungsu get married?"
The 'or' in the second sentence does a lot of heavy lifting in your mind.
You cross your arms, scoffing. "To who?"
"I dunno." Seungmin pauses. Then, to your horror, he lifts a finger and waggles it between you and Jungsu. "But at this rate, if both of you are still single in twenty years, you might as well marry each other."
It's almost two o'clock in the morning. Perhaps you can blame what happens next on the late hour, or on the presence of alcohol, or maybe if you are really honest, you can just blame it on yourself.
Jungsu's cheeks have long been flushed, but you wonder if they've become just a little darker when he responds, chuckling, "O-Oh, no. No, [Y/n]'ll find someone before then."
You blink, your heart ripped in two.
"Wow, not even a maybe?" You do your best to sound upbeat, but your voice pitches oddly at the end, and you know Jungsu notices when his smile stiffens. "Am I that bad?"
He shakes his head quickly. "No, I meant that you'll find someone else—"
"But what if I didn't?"
The living room falls silent. The way Jungsu's expression turns pained tells you all you need to know.
Seungmin utters no more than half your name before you stand up and dash out of the room.
Your cousin's house is small. You reach the guest bedroom within seconds and fumble with the doorknob to open it, closing the door hard behind you.
Your feet carry you towards the hidden space between the bed and the far wall. Once you sit down, what feels like a decade's worth of waterworks turn on, and you cover your mouth and sob.
You had imagined Jungsu's rejection time and time again. But recently, you had also begun to think that, maybe—
Well. Maybe it was never.
Hiccuping, you draw your sleeve across your eyes.
Why would he even want you, anyway?
You spend what feels like hours wiping your face until your nose and cheeks feel scraped raw. More than once, you think you are finished, only for Jungsu's pitying expression to resurface in your mind and open the wounds all over again.
But eventually, the tears begin to run dry, and that's when you hear a knock at the door.
"[Y/n]?" It's not Jungsu, but Seungmin. His tone is coaxing. "Can I come in?"
You gulp. The backs of your eyes ache, and you wipe your nose. "Okay."
The latch bolt clicks. You hear the sock-clad footsteps of your cousin approaching before he sits down beside you.
He says nothing for a moment. When you lean against him, eyes closed, he wraps an arm around your shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Seungmin says. "I don't know why I said it. You can hit me, if you'd like."
"You know, don't you?"
Your voice is tiny. Seungmin squeezes you and exhales slowly, and you slump, defeated.
"Yeah."
"Does he know?"
You are deprived of an answer for a good minute. Finally, Seungmin clicks his tongue softly, and he says, "I think the two of you should talk to each other and clear everything up."
"He knows, doesn't he?"
"If he does, he'll tell you. He's still here, if you're willing to talk to him now. I just figured I should check on you first. But you need to talk to him and he needs to talk to you."
"I don't want to."
"But you have to," Seungmin says. His warmth leaves you, and you look up at him desperately as he grabs the throw blanket on his bed and tucks it around you. "You're strong. However it goes, you'll get through it."
The corners of his lips quirk upwards. You can't manage a smile, but his words touch your heart, and you curl into yourself.
"He's still here?"
"Want me to go get him?"
You nod almost imperceptibly.
A few moments later, Seungmin returns with Jungsu and a glass of water. The glass of water is given to you, and Jungsu receives a pat on the back before your cousin leaves the two of you alone.
You bring the glass to your lips and take a long, thin drink. It's cold, but not too cold, with no ice. It makes you feel marginally better.
Eventually, Jungsu speaks up hesitantly.
"Can I sit down?"
You nod, not looking at him.
So he sits down beside you, carefully moving the blanket wrapped around you so as not to sit on it. He brings his knees to his chest. There is an inch of distance between you and him.
You rest your mouth on the rim of your glass, the water touching your lips but going no farther.
"[Y/n] …" Jungsu starts. "I'm really sorry."
The second rejection stings more than punches, alcohol over the raw cut. You breathe out steadily.
"You didn't do anything wrong."
"I hurt you." You can hear the quiet shake of anxiety in his voice. "I shouldn't have laughed, but I—I got nervous, and then your question caught me off guard, too, and I panicked and didn't know how to reply—"
"Jungsu." You turn to meet his eyes, and you hear him swallow. "I'll be fine. It was a stupid question." You rip your gaze away again, digging your toes into the carpet. "Deep down, I think I already knew it wouldn't happen, anyway."
Jungsu is quiet for a long time.
You realize, with a shameful belatedness, that this is a painful conversation for him as well. Jungsu feels others' emotions like they are his own. He shies away from negative ones, sensitive to them like paper to a flame, and more often that not he appeases them with tight smiles and agreeable responses.
But here, in the dim lamplight of the bedroom, he is holding himself over the fire. He cannot run anymore, just like you.
He finally speaks, his voice nearly a whisper.
"It's not because I don't feel the same way."
Your world stops on its axis.
Your head snaps up. You stare at him with wide eyes. He faces you fully, and you scan his expression for a hint of dishonesty, but it is once again nothing but open. He looks sad. Small.
"What?" you rasp.
"I would," he confesses. "Marry you twenty years from now. Or ten, or five. If I had moved with you to the city, or if you moved back here with me. But we're ... I don't think I could make you happy."
You are sure this is your third rejection. But you are still reeling, because it sounds like it is not your feelings that he is rejecting.
"You're afraid to even try."
"You have bigger dreams than here."
"You had bigger dreams once, too. We could have been together in the city." Old grievances rear their head like a reflex to pain, souring your tongue. "But you backed out."
Jungsu's face pinches. "And if I had stayed with you in the city, what then?" he replies. "We'd hardly visit home? Call Seungmin once a month? Work ourselves to death at a place that wouldn't think twice about getting rid of us?"
Blood rushes to your face.
This is too much. Too many different feelings mixing together, too many things spilling out.
You wring out a laugh and grip the glass in your hands until it's just shy of shattering.
"You liar," you huff, new tears spilling over. "You said you weren't upset anymore."
"Well, maybe I am," Jungsu says.
But his voice wavers, and you know that he is no better than you.
So much for talking it out. The room feels as cold as it had when you'd first entered it.
You don't bother to dry your tears this time. Beside you, Jungsu sniffles quietly, the shuffle of fabric letting you know when he rubs his sweater sleeve against his face.
Somehow, it reminds you of years long past. Crying then didn't feel nearly as pathetic.
"I miss when we were kids."
"... Me too."
You stare into your glass, then drain the rest of the water and set it aside.
"I shouldn't have said that," Jungsu mumbles into his knees. "I'm sorry."
"It's ... it's okay. Um." You lick your lips and say, slowly, "I don't think I ever actually apologized for not keeping in touch as much as I should've. I'm sorry."
"… I forgive you."
"You do?"
He nods.
You relax just the slightest bit. Your shoulder touches his, and when he leans into you in turn, you feel a small amount of relief, heart no longer angry but still sore and bruised.
There's nothing left to lose now. You might as well say everything that's on your mind.
"Jungsu." He hums. "You've always made me happy. Just so ... just so you know."
His brow furrows. "I just made you cry."
"What I mean is that it's always been you."
You are being honest, like you had promised, and the way Jungsu flushes to the tips of his ears is honest as well.
"You deserve better," he says.
"I don't deserve anything. I want you. Don't you feel the same way?"
"I do, but ..." He takes in a breath, his hand finding the crook of your elbow and squeezing. "If we hurt each other and never talked again, I don't think I would be able to handle it. These past two years were already ..."
He trails off. There is a pang in your chest as he bites his lip and presses the edge of his sleeve against one of his eyes, and it dawns on you then just how much you have to atone for.
"I really hurt you," you murmur. "Didn't I?"
Jungsu turns. You are suddenly enveloped in a tight embrace, warm wool and clutching fingers. His heart beats against yours, and it's enough to make you tremble, knowing that this is far more than you will ever deserve.
"Jungsu ..."
"Can you wait for me?" The request is a whisper. "Just give me some time?"
You breathe. "Of course."
His weight bears down on you until you're nearly crushed. You find it within yourself to crack a small smile as he clings to you.
Pressing your cheek against his shoulder, one last question leaves your tongue. "Can we still be best friends?"
His answer is muffled and soft, but sure.
"Always."
—
(You wait for him. Jungsu waits for you, as well. It's a long and slow journey but you find yourselves and, in turn, find each other again.
