M

choi seungcheol:

you always come to the party

synopsis: You felt comfortable where you were. A well paying job and a group hangout scheduled every week(or at least you guys tried to). You were used to this routine and the occasional errand or two. You honestly preferred it that way, busy and packed. But somewhere along the line, you felt him ripping into the seams of your soul, pushing past the readily available facade and drinking your raw self from a glass straw.

Five times you shouldered something for someone, and the one time you ended up on his shoulder.

word count: 9.4k

yours (part two to yacttp)

synopsis: Seungcheol always considered himself to be yours. That had always been true and will be true. He considered himself to be a rather good friend, thank you very much and always had your back behind the scenes. If only the transition between friends and lovers were as easy. The trials and tribulations of Choi Seungcheol as he battled his own instincts while falling hard for his old friend were never going to be simple.

Five times Seungcheol wanted to have a meal with you, and the one time while eating, you didn't leave things as they were.

word count: 8.4k

⤷ propose (smau prequel to yacttp and yours)

synopsis: You, Seungcheol and the cocoon the two of you build around the world, and yourself. Being high school friends was easy, you just went to class, hung out here and there, maybe ignored what was unsaid a bit, and hung out some more. But when two shy hands held back, maybe words and simple tweets made the most sense.

⤷ cherry blossom ending (smau, pt2) ⤷ bonus

synopsis: You, seungcheol and the years sandwiched between friendship, love and companionship. His awkward actions, your awkward words and the unsaid differences seemed to be growing, alongside the tender feelings you mutually harboured.

who do u love?

synopsis: Choi Seungcheol lived quite well for an eighteen year old boy: He was growing well, had a good friend group, lived in a lavish house, and had the best grades in his class. This all kept him very happy, thank you very much. So why was it that his heart felt so heavy when you, his childhood friend, got closer to Choi Hansol, your neighbourhood’s star boy?

word count: 8.7k

mr mystery

synopsis: You wrote the past, present and future into existence. You know everything, but yourself. Maybe it's time you delved into what made, you human once: Choi Seungcheol.

word count: 3.3k words

er doctor!seungcheol x fem!underground boxer!reader

wen junhui:

90s crush!jun x friend!reader

kwon soonyoung:

frozen, summer

synopsis: 1999, a grueling summer, and you and soonyoung were as thick as thieves. It was a golden summer: days spent at the arcade, cramming in for your college entrance exams and golden hours at lunch. When did your youth end up slipping away?

Five moments between you and Soonyoung, and that one moment where you finally received everything you needed.

word count: 3.9k

jeon wonwoo:

wonwoo x gn!producer!reader

manager!wonwoo x idol leader!reader

kim mingyu:

midnight, the stars and you

synopsis:a chance encounter gives you newfound inspiration when you're stuck under a rainy night, feeling like absolute crap. Who knew this newfound inspiration knew you better than you thought?

word count: 2.9k

choi hansol:

who do u love?

synopsis: Choi Seungcheol lived quite well for an eighteen year old boy: He was growing well, had a good friend group, lived in a lavish house, and had the best grades in his class. This all kept him very happy, thank you very much. So why was it that his heart felt so heavy when you, his childhood friend, got closer to Choi Hansol, your neighbourhood’s star boy?

word count: 8.7k

At first, being captive in a place with no memories of your own but of everything around you being played along behind your eyelids was terrifying. It was impossible to imagine that a celestial body such as yours was able to pinpoint the smallest grain of sand from its beginning to its destination. 

You weren’t like the beings you saw in your visions. You were humanoid, yet you didn't have the desire to eat, or sleep or drink like they did. You were like them in the way you craved connection; in the way you craved to be looked at with something other than your own confused reflection. You wanted to feel the touch of another on your hand, rather than the predetermined palm of your right on your left. You urged to be known, to be acknowledged. It all was very human, something so far away.

You lived somewhere in the mountains, you imagined. It was hard to think too much about yourself and the situation you were in. It was cruel. Being alone was funny: seeing planets and universes come to be and fade out, watching behind your eyelids as a mundane group of people enjoyed something as simple as a meal: cruel. Your reflection displayed a person you didn't seem to recognize, and when you tried to imagine anything about yourself, a blinding, throat-seering migraine slapped you across the face. It was agonizing. You learned to forget yourself. You taught yourself that you worked for the walls that binded you and that that was all for it. 

A door stood at the entrance of your castle. It didn't lead to anything you were aware of. It was comedic. You knew what was going to happen on Humanly Jupiter in 53 seconds, but you had no clue what the door outside your castle held. You only knew that only the hands of a human mortal could touch them. You also knew that they were unidirectional. They could only be opened from the outside. You had learned that the hard way when your hands started to glow from the excessive force you had applied, near centuries ago. Like the glass hypercube you were placed in, these rules were glued into your mind. You were locked from the outside, and had come to terms with your immortality ages ago. 

Lounging in your personal quarters onlooking a glassy, haze like fog, your mind served a moment of peace which handt happened in a while. The last time you had felt true silence was perhaps 763 years ago when your mind suddenly blanked, and you were left with such confining rules in your head. 

“Hello?”

Yoon Jeonghan, Human, Humanly October Fourth, Astronaut and Physicist, educator of stars and matter. 

You approached the throne room, not exactly entering. Jeonghan the human had left the door to the outside ajar behind him as he looked around, his eyes shaking and wavering as he tried to find the source of your feet padding across the floor. 

“Jeonghan. Welcome. You were not supposed to stumble into my realm.” Your voice was malfigured in a way that left him at slight unease, yet warm enough to leave him in a warm embrace he didn't quite understand. 

You stood behind a pillar. You knew what he looked like. His story was written a while back. He was destined for greatness, only to give up on his passion for science and join a baking club in the suburbs in his early forties. The Jeonghan behind the pillar was younger. 

It didn’t make sense, not at all. You were destined for solitude and he was destined for something else entirely. No mortal was allowed into your realm, and you weren’t allowed anything, for all you knew. Jeonghan wasn’t playing along with the script you had transcribed. It made you a little sick, and everything you knew was being questioned, but internally. Out of the two beings in the throne room, you were supposed to be the one who had all the answers, all the timelines under control. The threads were slipping, little by little. 

Stay composed. 

“You know me?” He had asked, rubbing his gear. Dropping his helmet onto the floor. There was no crash, only a light clink. 

“Of course, I know everyone, everywhere.”

“I also-” He took a breath in, nervously, “know you. I’ve heard plenty of stories about you. You were always a wives tale, handed down between families on our planet.”

You listened, curious about yourself. “Earth was it?” You had murmured after a moment to yourself, a migraine already building behind your eyes.

“Yes, but you already knew that, didn’t you, Your Majesty, Thank you for trying to converse with a mere mortal like me,” He sounded awkward, and you felt worse. 

Why would he place you in confinements like royalty when he didn't know a single thing about you? You placed it all in the ignorance of being human and the simplicity that came with it. Confusion was not a state you were proud of, not at the appearance of an anomaly like the man hidden from your vision. 

“That sounds wrong. Please don’t refer to me as such,” You had corrected him, gently. 

“Then shall I refer to you as the name we have given you back in our home?”

Another pause, and your mind seemed to clear, if only for a bit. 

“You may. I don’t think I have a name, but any would be better than such titles I am undeserving of.” 

You were surprised at your candor with the mortal. You had no idea how he was taking this information. But you couldn’t help but utter words that were possibly not needed. You didn't really know anything about words and their necessity. This was the first conversation you had ever had, you thought. 

He called you a name. You didn't recognize it all, which was funny considering the fact that you played with time as if it were a harp and with space as if it were clay getting prepared for pottery. But perhaps, it felt right because you began to feel a warmth encompassing you when he had called upon you with something that was truly unfamiliar. 

A glow emmited from you, and you began to make your way away from the pillar and finally sat up on the chair where you wrote out scripts of every person to exist. 

Jeonghan didn't expect you to look so human. Or so young. 

When he entered the event horizon of the black hole, he had imagined that he would experience what it felt to be human, at least one last time, but he had ended up in a special place. A place where time felt incomplete, where space was just another variable to consider in an equation, and a snowy mountain with a short hike to crystal palace that was belittling him from the precipice. 

The door to your castle had felt negligible, lightweight and almost invisible if it weren’t for the handle. On his hike up to the glass cage, he had wondered where he could’ve landed. Maybe an alternate reality that his mind had escaped to, or perhaps there was enough inertia to pivot him onto another planet, light years away. He had been wrong, of course.

It was only when he recognized a species of flower he had only heard in fables (unofficially named Monsoon due to its blossoming post rain). It had almost dead petals, and yet it seemed to be breathing. He didn't know much about flowers, but everyone in his little town knew that the Monsoon flower represented forgiveness. He didn’t know why, but he plucked three. His hands stopped itching when the three flowers were finally in his palms. 

The presence of the Monsoon Flower implied that he had ended up in your realm, a place given to those who would stumble upon it when they had scratched the surface of space and time and survived. He had heard of the last time someone had entered this realm. They had been granted greath wealth and prosperity. Good for them, he supposed. The journey to your dimension had not been an easy one. At least that last person came out lucky. 

He had been expecting an entity, not a human figure who looked on curiously at him as if he would be ready to bite. His eyes joined yours, and he slowly raised a palm, holding three, handpicked flowers, gently swaying in his. You suddenly felt as if your neurons (if you had any) were suddenly lit on fire. 

Grant it to him. 

Give him a wish. 

Make him happy. 

Your mind was burning. You tried to be presentable, so as to not to worry him but you couldn’t control the motion of shaking this uncomfortable commanding voice out of your head. This wasn’t like the migraines you had self inflicted by indulging in yourself, no. This was something new entirely. An unfamiliar voice whispered into your ears, like a fly on the walls, only that the walls were your eardrums and your hands were tied behind as you struggled to swat at the pestering bug. 

“For making such an arduous journey to my realm, I will grant you one wish.”

Your voice sounded unused, as it had been, and was whispered in a tone that sounded exhausted, yet comforting. 

Jeonghan, what a pretty human he was. His ebony lashes fluttered as he looked at you in utter disbelief. 

“I would like to go back home,” He had come up with, after a momentary pause. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his humble wish. 

“That is already included, your return back to your home is a given, after you decided on your gift.” 

Jeonghan thought hard, and looked at you, a bit more in disbelief, then in confusion. 

“Can’t decide?”

You felt yourself go on autopilot. 

“How about unimaginable wealth? Glory? Wisdom? Perhaps Universe-wide recognition?”

Visions of a man flashed before your eyelids. He was on his knees, in front of you begging at your throne. You looked forward, avoiding his gaze. He was in tunics, and was shaking your shoulders, begging for you to look at him. Your eyes glazed over as you ignored his cries of attention. Everything was bright, Your castle seemed to be breathing lush as views of the mountains grew colder. He made a wish. You coudn’t hear him. He was gone, and you had finally forgotten his face. 

“How about love?” He wondered, Curious. 

A few scenes flashed once more. It was of the same man. His hair was slightly shorter, and he seemed to be clutching onto a gold ring, lilies embossed on all surfaces. Further flashes. Your head hurt as you chased onto the image of his fleeting glances on your lips, and your eyes chasing his view. His laugh was vivid and he imagined you to be his whole world. He grabbed for your face, and you were inching closer to him, and all was going to be good if you were in his arms once more, when-

“Unfortunately that cannot be done, Jeonghan.” You breathed out.

“Understandable.” He nodded off. You didn’t understand how he was quick to agree, but were happy with his answer. That would give you more time to think of solutions to his questions. 

“What about you? What would you wish for?”

It was silence, once more in your head. Third time, ever. 

You looked at the door that had a sliver of light filtering into your chiasm. Maybe a breath of fresh air, perhaps a person to eat a meal with. Maybe a stroll in a park, and skydiving with the wind whipping into your face. Maybe Lilies, and a cup of tea. What exactly was a lily? 

“I have everything I need, right here.” You smiled. You pinched the back of your ear as you pushed your hair back. Why the need to lie to a man you had previously spoken nothing but the truth to? You didn’t know. 

But Jeonghan wasn’t as stupid as others had thought of him to be. His eyes were sharp, and his tongue was blunt, but never rude. His gaze was soft and perceptive when needed and he understood the longing behind your eyes as your iris flitted between him and the door he had left open behind him. 

“I want intuition.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised at his wish. Nothing could be said as the air seemed to thicken. You simply nodded. 

“Granted, Yoon Jeonghan. Safe travels back to your Earth. When you wake up, this shall all be a dream.” You added seamlessly, wondering if this would be the last time you would interact with another. 

He looked at you, coyly, and bowed. “Thank you for your gift,” 

His back grew smaller, as he walked away, further away from you, back to the entrance that kept you hidden. 

His helmet was still glistening on the floor, and you looked at it, confused. 

You hurried and grabbed the reflecting orb, before rushing towards his retreating figure.

When he passed the transparent glass, he simply slipped through the glass, leaving a large gap, just enough for you to slip by. 

He walked back on through the mountains. 

You fell through the floor, and the glass swallowed you whole. Your mouth tasted salty as you fell into a deep mass of nothingness, yet sounds of horrid screams echoed in your ears. Your clothes flapped along as darkness surrounded you and the weighlessness that came with being aflight jumbled into your abdomen like a sweet sucker punch. 

You closed your eyes. You balled your hands into fists and let out a shriek into the darkness. Nothing had called back, until the memories came rushing back. 

It was difficult to remember who you were in your palace, but in this dark pool of infinite possibility, visions of adoration and lost memories rushed back in a way that felt restoring. It was as if the cracked pottery received scratches to reattach pieces that once were. Akin to tasting the sweet nectar of a pretty flower ages after having a trial once in adolesence. Was it love that made you whole? 

-

You had loved Choi Seungcheol eons ago. He had loved you back too, you thought. 

He had stumbled into your realm, ripped apart from his timeline and had ended up on your doorstep. He was a good companion, if you tried to remember. Your memories were cracked, just like the pottery of space that you molded occasionally. 

“You’re pretty,”

Was the first thing he said to you. His lip had been bleeding and his face had been hollowed out. His clothes were closer to rags and his voice held a deep ache in them. Yet he couldn’t help but be mesmerised by your smile as you chuckled at his compliment. His heart felt light. But maybe that was the dehydration talking. 

Your heart wavered, too. 

He was a difficult person, initially. He didn’t understand the possibility of a realm such as yours, nor would he accept the wish you could grant him. 

Time passed quickly when you were in love. 

His presence came to you in flashes. 

His fingers brushed the transcriptions along your walls. Your fingers guided him to a script he felt connected to. 

“This is your life story,” You had murmured. 

The space between the two of you grew tighter, more intimate. His breath grew short as he brushed the tips of his fingers against the smooth glass, while you watched the space between his eyes, his philtrum which wavered as he tried to understand the meaning of such symbols. He would simply never. Your heart ached as he brushed onto the last symbol before another person’s story started. He would never know. 

“Will we ever get a chance together?” He had asked one day, about fifteen days into his first appearance, into your crystal chambers. 

You had only looked past him, pensieve. 

Seungcheol would not survive if he was with you. You watched on as he thinned out. You fed him apparitions of the finest meals your palms could conjure. He smiled, yet his cheeks would not rise. His eyes seemed dimmer as the cost of your immortality weighed on him. He swallowed it all up, eager to be by your side. His gentle grip on your wrists as your transcribed glass on glass grew weaker by the day, but when you’d look at him in concern, he’d simply brush you off. His hair grew grey, and not in an elderly way, but in rot. Your dimension was actively chasing him to disappearance. 

You had never wished for love to be so cruel. 

When he had vomited out the contents of his stomach and some, His eyes shed a few tears. He hid them from you, and only laughed on as he gagged, blood entering his throat. 

“My love! You know I don't prefer bean sprouts!” he laughed as you had clutched onto his back, tears blurring your vision. 

You stayed silent, your throat housing a painful ball of emotion and fire. It hurt to stay silent. 

“Mortal Choi Seungcheol of Humanly Earth. Please, make your wish.” You had grunted out, tears slipping carelessly from your eyes as you stayed seated on your throne. 

Seungcheol looked up, and wiped his lips against the brown tunic you had conjured for him. 

“You know my wish would be to make you mine,”

“Please, Seungcheol. Do not make this any harder.” You gripped onto the glass. It pierced you. Your voice sounded unstable. 

“I wish you’d love me back!” He had roared into the glass

“You know I cannot!” 

You breathed in as he stormed towards you, grabbing your injured palm away. 

His eyes were red, and his lashes, once light and airy, were glued together by his salty tears.

“I'm trapped here for an eternity and no matter what I do, I cannot let go. Not of you, but also not of what fate decides for me! And what fate has already decided of you. I cannot choose to be selfish when it has never been a choice and I have clearly blundered by letting you stay here for so long.”

“Don’t be a coward. There's always been a choice. Can I not be your choice, My love?” He sobbed harder. You couldn’t bear to look at his face. His pleads fell onto your yearning ears.

“Don’t call me that! Seungcheol, do you not get it in your stupid measly brain? We were doomed from the start, the stars already planned everything out!”

His face inched closer to yours and yours to his. Your vision blurred as the space between the two of you grew miniscule, until it was infinite. 

“Forget me. Live a life worth fighting for. When you wake up, this will all be a dream. Forget your foolish love. What I had was deprivation.” You snarled, harsh, with minced breath. 

You felt the pain of  thousand swords piercing into your chest as you lied to the face of your vulnerable beloved, his eyes speaking everything, and then nothing. 

Your shoulders were deprived of his warmth. 

When you looked up, all that was left was his blank stare. 

“I wish for you to forget me,”

tbc ˎˊ˗

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hey guys, sorry for the long inactivity period. I haven't been doing the best but I felt the itch to write something after watching the odyssey. this was inspired by a lot of different myths, concepts, medias and fandoms. hope you guys liked it. reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated.

love, M

you had gotten scolded by your company severely. wonwoo was there throughout it all, of course. as manager, he was supposed to look after your online presence, pr training, socials, schedules and healths. he listened to the earfuls you received, then the insults he had to swallow about his incompetency. you argued back when the CEO had mentioned replacing wonwoo with someone more hardworking and diligent. you wouldn’t stand for someone else being held responsible for your actions and opinions.

“that was fucking stupid. all over some stupid milk, i’m sorry I dragged you into this mess. hope you know that whatever they were saying was random bullshit,”

wonwoo stood tall before you, not meeting your eyes as he ran his hands though his hair, sighing frustratedly.

“don’t do that again, especially not for me,” wonwoo had said, rather seriously.

this wasn’t new. wonwoo preferred having a professional relationship, and pushed away any chance of you being friendly towards him. he wasn’t like this with the other members exactly. he would offer a smile once or twice and give them reliable and comforting advice. you weren’t upset, but curious about why he treated you so coldly. did you hurt him in any way?

you worked overtime to burn the anger off. with a new ep coming out, you had meeting with various peoples, accompanied by wonwoo. It was around 5pm when you had told him to go home. you then disappeared into your studio, working on a b-side.

it was around 2am when you left. you hadn’t expected much, and you felt the deep ache between your scapulas. your wrists were aching, and you had messages from your youngest member, begging you to buy ice cream on the way back to the dorms.

the things you do for love.

you walk out of the building, towards your car, only to find wonwoo on his phone, leaning against your car, blue light reflecting onto his glasses.

“wonwoo?”

he looked up. you could only hear the sound of the subway tracks and the sounds of birds tweeting too early and too late.

he wordlessly takes your car keys and takes his seat at the drivers without so much of a word.

“thanks, by the way.”

he looked forward, and mumbled nothing or something. he stopped at a convenience store, near the dorms a bit later into the calm drive.

you look at him, confused and surprised.

he looked a bit amused. “I’m also in the group chat, you know that?”

wonwoo looked younger when he smiled like that.

you followed him as he walked in. he grabbed chocolate for two of the members, then stopped to get mint for the youngest, then he stopped at a flavor you very much loved. it was surprising that he liked the same ice cream as you.

“I’m surprised you also like that flavor.” you prevented him from closing the freezer, trying to grab the same one he had just taken.

“don’t, this one is for you.”

it was silent as you looked at the ice creams in his hands, and watched him pay for them. you didn’t understand him at all, you had thought.

“I don’t understand you, wonwoo," you had grunted as you slammed the door as you huffed into the passenger seat.

it was silent. the car hadn't been turned on and wonwoo just sat in silence, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, the ring around his thumb, and the emblem of the car.

“I’m sorry. but I can’t be close to people I work with. professionalism and ethics and power imbalances and what not.”

“why are you suddenly saying this?”

“I don’t just wanna be workers with you. I get so fucking frustrated around you because of how sweet you are to me, even when I’m being an asshole.”

“hold on,”

“let me finish, please, i prefer keeping my distances from people I like, makes things easier in the long run if I get hurt, but especially you. seeing you put your dream basically on the line for me today was too risky. please don't do that ever again. especially not for me.”

“so you like me?”

“is that all you got out of my confession? but in conclusion, yes.”

“but you don’t date coworkers?”

“not anymore. hearing that bullshit from the ceo pissed me off today. dropped off my transfer letter just after you told me to piss off, I'll be managing that new rookie group that debuts in a few months.”

he locked eyes with you, and asked if he could hold your hand. you had only nodded as he patted his hands on top of yours.

the two of you awkwardly avoided eye contact, looking forward as the bag of ice creams melted onto your laps.

If it was up to you, you’d skip the promotion of your movie all together. As the director, being able to see your sweet baby come to life was an insurmountable feeling. You couldn’t miss it for anything. But you’d been feeling rather blue as of lately. 

Perfectly fitting for the title, in hindsight. It was rather funny. You titled your movie “Blue”, after multiple meetings with hard headed producers and hesitant editors. But you’d stuck to your choice, with an iron fist wrapped in cotton gauze, tenderly. 

Looking around the sea of media, celebrities and journalists in front of you, it was funny that you couldn’t find anyone in blue. You eyed the simple white garment they had dressed Dahyun (your female lead) in. Her stylist had argued that the irony and contrast would make the periwinkle of the poster pop out even more. You had just nodded along, not taking much of anything in.

You had smiled proudly at Dahyun and Minghao from the side, watching on as they gave heartfelt interviews about their characters you had fleshed out the night of a storm.

From an outsider's perspective, your film didn’t have much substance. At least that was what you thought. It portrayed the story of a chance encounter between two strangers, stranded in a storm, finding warmth within one another and eventually blurring the lines between platonic friendship and yearning held together by two mutually broken people, styled out in a small, silent seaside town. Lots of garbage you had written when you were initially pitching the story. You had been told that there was nothing new and that your story had been done time and time again. 

You had agreed with humiliation burning behind your forehead nodding at the words of executives you had to bow down to, of course, then on a whim, without thinking, added that making it a musical and marketing it as such would make it funny, despite the depressing and ambiguous ending. Something like Lalaland, but thoroughly different with characters that weren’t as charming, slightly more relatable, and characters that never seemed to be too hopeful. Why would the audience want to watch boring people? You rummaged your brain when you were first creating the character profiles. They were real, broken people in your brain. And that was enough for you. Hopefully, everybody else thought so too, because people like that existed. You would count yourself as an example, you thought while watching Minghao answer a question, explaining his character’s behavior throughout the film.

The two producers had looked at one another and thanked you for your ideas, mentioning an email or two before having an assistant usher you out of the board room. 

Now you stood from the side lines, dawning a simple, loose fitting black suit, plunging yourself in the shadows as you watched your initial midnight rush make it to the big screen. 

It was during the filming of one scene where you had finally decided on the name Blue. 

It had suddenly turned windy near the river, you’d sighed in disappointment. The scene consisted of Dahyun and Minghao ending their first date and dancing along the banks in hope of their future possible partnership. But somehow, their moves weren’t exploding in a certain feeling that you needed. It felt a bit off and you weren’t able to explain why. Although the two of them were amazing dancers and actors individually, when they danced together, it felt a bit off. You couldn’t tell that to the two of them in public though, so you called a dinner break so the staff could eat under the tents shielding themselves from the rain, and so you could figure out how to combat this sudden awkwardness. 

Maybe a walk to clear your mind would help. You pushed your phone in a random pocket and left without looking back. You had heard your assistant director, Jihoon, call after you, but you waved your hand to dismiss him, letting him cool off for an hour before shooting would resume.  

You had just gotten off a call with your manager, her shaky remarks leaving you curious as well. 

“-did mention you though! His interview was released just last night! And he even mentioned loving your debut and having this hunger to work with you. The comments were going crazy. I think they have a ship name for you guys, and you’ve been trending on Twitter for the past 15 hours.” 

You were listening, but only enough to catch the keywords. He was an actor you that was more commercially known, working in franchises mostly, but his calm persona and deteriorating character arc in his debut made him a wonderful muse, you had thought. 

Immediately, in your head, you had imagined him in a cyberpunk city, laughing his head off while slamming the pedals on his futuristic bike. Or, dressed in a light blouse, with a pensive stare as he pressed a rag onto his injured shoulder. Another, where he slammed his fist into the hero’s cheek. Or another where he cried his chest out at a park, sipping his orange soda between sobs. Jeon Wonwoo would be a delight to work with, you had decided. His face was perfectly moldable, and you were fantastic and pottery. 

“You’d really make a cute pair though, he had literal heart eyes and a sweet smile while he was talking about midnight, the stars and you.”

“Sana, you know I don’t date. But him talking about MTSA is surprising to hear. Most people forgot about that one, especially seeing how terribly it did.”

“The budget was 10,000 won and a dream. Don’t blame yourself too much.” 

“And your acting, which was honestly good for a rookie. Can’t believe you didn’t take up the offers that JYP gave you. Sorry you’re stuck with me.” You had chuckled. One hand in your pocket, and another pressing the block into your ear.  

The wind was picking up and the upcoming rain was signaling you that you had to return before your clothes got drenched. 

You quickly cut the call on Sana when the winding path became more foggy. The wind was picking up, yet the sound of the blurring rush passing across your eardrums seemed to help you meld into your thoughts. 

What was it exactly that made the dance awkward? 

The two were phenomenal and had this type of yearning chemistry that built to with every scene, slowly filling the pot of visual synergy until the dramatic climax where the pain between the two characters unfolded in a charming yet cynical duet. 

The scene started with a shot of Minghao’s fingers dancing across the railing of the bridge where the two shared one can of beer, eventually crushing it with their stomps and dancing in a soft somber dance across the bridge before going their own ways. The lighting of the night was dreary, incredibly so, and the monotone outfits that your leads dawned did nothing to help. 

Lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice the arrival of a stranger, leisurely handling an umbrella from his forearm, ignoring the rush of the cool evening wind. 

You paid him no mind, focused on getting the dance movements right in your head. Apparently you looked quite upset, and perhaps your eyes watered from the wind, the frustration, the insatiable dissatisfaction, and the sudden realization of everyone’s hopes riding on your work. 

Your face wasn’t even that crunched up, you would add, in a further recollection of this sudden memory. 

This stranger would disagree. 

Mingyu had planned on ignoring your presence. He knew who you were, knew that the shooting for your upcoming secretive film was happening just somewhere around, maybe asked for an autograph and some memorabilia. But at the moment, it seemed like you could use some human nuance and confront instead. 

Mingyu fixed his thick rimmed glasses, and softly tapped the railing you were leaning on.

This was a pretty unfamiliar stranger. His eyes were wide and curious, not prodding, but rather a comforting nudge. 

“May I help you?” You asked, your voice wavering.

Mingyu tilted his head, wondering how you could be asking about him when out of the two of you, clearly one was tearing up in the misty wind. Awkward, he cleared his throat and offered his handkerchief. 

It was silk, and soft. Periwinkle in color. Embroidered with small blue flowers. You clasped it in your palm. Eventually, the silk fabric became darker. Drops of rain pattered down, and so did your tears. You fumbled, awkward. You just ruined a stranger’s offer for help, and were now causing him to get pattered in the rain in front of you. 

You tried your best to get your hands off of the handkerchief, trying to hand it back to him, fingers shaking, trying to thank him under your breath. 

You were in some sort of frenzy. This very charming, helpful and attractive man took a look at your crumbling exterior and tried his best to offer you a token of help (a piece of fabric). Mingyu looked at you, then at your shivering hands. Back into your eyes, cloudy in panic, then finally, Mingyu grabbed onto your wrists, warm against the cool raindrops, and ran away into the night. 

Mingyu looked back at you every few seconds to see if you were following. To see if you were alright, and if you were alright with his palms against you. In this moment, you ran behind him, letting yourself be taken away, and your smile slowly erupted from the tough facade that had been constructed over the course of the night. 

He led you to an awning, where your eyes seemed a bit clearer, and where a small laugh interrupted Mingyu’s quick mental checklist. 

He was panting, and so were you by this point. Your laugh finally became more feasible and real. Mingyu was happy to see this, and he watched as you swiped at the tears and rain from the corner of your eyes. 

His glasses were dotty, with rain drops littering his vision of you, forming a movie-like vignette around you as he looked at you, amazed. 

Your laughter had drawn out at htis point, and what remained was the soft rain in the background. You looked up at him and blinked once, then some more before pointing at his glasses. 

Mingyu was confused. What exactly were you staring at? He knew his smile looked too friendly sometimes, and he knew that the glasses framed his haircut well enough, but he couldnt help put stare down your fingers at your curious eyes. 

He removed them with a quick swipe and offered them to you, where you cleaned his glasses with the same embroidered handkerchief he had offered not three minutes ago. He watched on, feeling slightly flushed. 

Mingyu was used to taking care of people. He’d offer to make the ramen everyone would share on camping trips. He’d offer to drive on nights where everyone else was tired. He would cheer at his friends’ badminton matches, and he’d offer to wash dishes without being asked to. 

This simple task of a celebrity treating him like he was slightly delicate and fragile made him feel like a glass cup waiting for its turn at polishing. New out of the box, but shy and proud nonetheless. 

You wordlessly placed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. You were shocking yourself with the amount of familiarity you were willing to give up to this stranger. He had kept you relatively dry on this stormy night, and offered his company without doing much. 

A sudden revelation came to you, and you couldnt help but widen your eyes in pure whimsy as everything seemed to click in place. 

Patting his shoulder, you left him in the night with a quick, “Thank you, Kind Stranger!”

You ducked back into the rain, unknowingly clutching onto the blue fabric tightly. 

The soft, tender moment you shared with the beautiful stranger was enough to help you spin reality into fiction. 

You looked at the pamphlet in your hand, showing movie stills and quotes from critics. 

Scenes of Minghao laughing at Dahyun, Another where the two dance in the rain. The same rain you escaped into. Then another, with Dahyun cleaning the rain off of Minghao’s glasses, as he watched on bewildered. You hoped the cute stranger wouldn’t mind being used as inspiration. 

The idea that had come to you wasn’t catastrophic or plot twisting of any sort. Just to lighten the mood of the entire evening and let your actors take the reigns, only telling them to end the scene on a light note. Eventually, you had asked the crew to start packing up. But you remained alongside the videographer, asking them to continue filming as Dahyun carried out the instruction you had whispered earlier. 

Minghao’s bewildered face almost mirrored the stranger’s from an hour ago.

You flipped some more, reading some of the reviews you had received. 

“Melancholic with a metallic taste of wine.” Lee Seokmin had said. You didn’t quite understand what he said, but the 9.2 stars underneath gave you some insight as to what he might have meant. 

Your name was shouted acoss the carpet and you couldn’t help but fix the silk handkerchief in your left breast pocket before following the direction of the call. 

Dahyun was smiling as she continued her conversation with the Journalist in front of her, his face hidden by the videographer gauging Minghao and Dahyun’’s converstation. 

“Honestly, working with our lovely director over her was never a challenge. I’d say my character’s love for Myungho was enough to keep her going, until it just wasn’t. It's sad, very unfortunate, but I think that it is plausible, and it is real. That's what I felt when I read the script for the first time. That all of this is so very real. Myungho and Minji, were just not meant to be, despite the similarities they shared, the fact that in the end, they were still in love. But love is not always enough, as disturbing as it sounds.”

“Myungho was going through a lot. A new city, a new love, and with all these changes happening at once, he never gave himself the time to adapt or love his surroundings properly. On the surface, they seem developed enough, but the boss over here gave us very specific nuances behind the camera for character continuity. Like, did you know that my hands were always shaky in the morning scenes because Myungho had been drinking coffee at night to accompany Minji home after her night shifts? Even while art school was taking it out of him. Same with Dahyun, I remember being shocked when she just pointed at my glasses with the most obvious stare ever, and cleaned them for me. I didn’t even notice that my vision had gone blurry and dotted with the rain. That scene was very memorable for us to shoot. The boss even paid for our dinners, of course!”

“Speaking of Boss, here she is in person!”

Dahyun and Minghao looked expectantly at you. You felt yourself shrink a bit, into the collars of your coat, before the journalist turned to you with a gentle smile on his face. 

His hair had grown now, and he’d replaced his glasses for what seemed to be contacts. He was also the only one in the whole event wearing anything resembling blue. A pale navy. He was the stranger that had inspired you to call your film blue. 

Your eyes, lit in recognition and a shy smile glittered under your lips. It wasn't often you got shy, or that your inspiration had very much seen your work, and known that he had been taken as a bookmark into your mind. 

“You're wearing blue,” You simply stated. Gently smiling, allowing your teeth to finally be visible enough. 

He looked more in his own zone now, standing tall and straight, before fixing his name tag and tie. 

“Yes! Of course, I was surprised to be the only one who went the conventional route,”

You had only looked at him, still in a bit of a doozy. Of course the hot stranger knew who you were. But he never said anything about it. It felt good to be treated like a stranger for once. The two of you started at once another as the converstaion came to a lull and Dahyun and Minghao followed down the carpet alongside the videographer for another journalist’s investigation. 

“Off the record, Ma’am,” the stranger had asked. You fixed his handkerchief square once more, it becoming a ritual at some point. 

You hummed in response, awaiting his question.

“Why name the movie blue?”

You looked down at his name tag, eyeing his gait, posture and the way he looked at you as if you hung the stars in the midnight sky. It was fun to watch as he shrunk under your gaze for once.

“You tell me, Kim Mingyu.”

end ˎˊ˗

an: thank you for reading! ngl this was rushed a bit but like I had the creative work flow so I had to get it written before I left it as a draft collecting dust. reblog and comments are very much appreciated. also I love reading your guys' comments, literally makes my whole day so if u guys have any thoughts or head cannons about this duo, comment ahead heheh

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hello lovely nugget13!! thank you so much for your love and tuning in to this short series I wrote. seeing your love likes and reblogs really means so much to me <3 thank you for supporting writers and I really appreciate it. I’m glad you enjoyed the confessions, esp MCs and I hope you didn’t end up crying too much HEHEH ^^ THABK YOU FOR THR LOVE I APPRECIATE YOU SO MUCH OH MY GOSHHHH 😭😘😭😘🩷🩷🩷🥹🥹🥹🥹 have a lovely day/night ahead, and take care!

HELLO MY LOVELY ANON!! 🩷🩷🩷

they did!! I think they didn’t realize but they were dating each other without knowing at all :3 but yes they do get engaged HEHEH!!! wonwoo 💔💔 oh wonwoo!! If only Cheol had said yes to lunch maybe he wouldn’t have forgotten his files, but that would mean no Cheol and Mc interactions hehe 🩷🩷

thank you for spending your time reading my work, I really appreciate it very much ~ thank you so much my lovely anon, I hope you’re having an amazing day/night 🩷🩷

love, M ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

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an: POOR WONWOO thank you for reading once again! reblog and comments are very much appeciated.

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an: thank you for reading. I could only add 30 pics so theres a bonus as well HEHEH... I worked hard on the dates so that theres a chronological order and feel. they're unrealistic of course, but I think its still ok :3 thank you for everything <3 . thank you for reading once again! reblog and comments are very much appreciated.

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sports fest, senior year, 18

graduation, 18, again

university chronicles, 19

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a/n: this is probably only going to have two parts heheh. ages are unrealistic here and I wanted to show the change in their mindsets with their texting styles, pfps hehehehh… ANYWAYS!!! Reblogs and comments would mean very much :3

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Your mother had mentioned that she was sending you a few boxes from your days at school, mementos she had kept for the sake of remembering days of your sunny youth. But, with the move she was planning to make to the countryside, maybe it was best for you to finally open Pandora's box and relive what it was like to be 18, graduating high school, and dipping your feet into the real world of grown-ups you were now, so well accustomed to. 

June 4th, 1999, Friday

You, Soonyoung, and Jihoon were walking back to your respective homes. School was finally over for the day. It was a late night with the sounds of cars honking over your silent conversations. 

Jihoon was the one who was mainly speaking, talking about how the Physics teacher, Mr. Lee, was being way too harsh, enforcing study hours earlier than other classes, and somehow still leaving at the same time as everyone else. 

You and Soonyoung were listening silently, feeling a bit awkward with one another, with Jihoon sandwiched between the two of you, which was uncommon. 

The two of you were caught sending notes to one another, and had to deal with the ‘oohs and ahhs’ of your stupid classmates, as your teacher scolded you on about the failures that the two of you would end up becoming if you two stuck to one another so closely. 

When you had planned to retort, you had felt Soonyoung's sheepish hands on yours, only further strengthening the teasing of your classmates. You couldn't look him in the eyes for a good two hours. 

The relationship between the two of you was loving and delicate. Soonyoung cared for you, as did you for him. You would defend him if it meant hearing the curses of your teachers and anyone in the way, but Soonyoung wouldn't let you. He wouldn't want you to do that, especially not for someone like him. You would disagree.

You shook your head as the memories of the day came back to you. 

"I have to go buy some groceries on the way back. I'll see you guys tomorrow, though." Jihoon waved at the two of you, not even bothering to look back at you. 

When it was just the two of you left, what remained was silence. It was rare, with you and Soonyoung usually coming up to no good, but left without vices and excuses to lean on, what lay was a foundation of honesty that was always hidden. 

"Soonyoung, My Hoshi," You had started off, not looking into his eyes as the two of you wandered down the street. The night made it easier to ignore his gaze. 

"You're not going to be a failure. I know it for sure. You're going to kick these exams in their asses, and old man Lee won't know what's gonna hit him." You stopped, finally meeting his gaze. 

He looked at you, finally coming to his senses. 

“You still up for the arcade?” 

-

After a 10,000 Won note was well spent, the two of you were back in your regular rhythm. Competitive, teasing, and upbeat. This was what you preferred. 

“Hosha, pass me the raspberry,” you had told him, without taking your eyes off the screen, which played overwhelming music and obnoxious sounds of shooting and victory voice notes. 

He had passed you his raspberry-ade without much thought, you’d taken a sip, complained, and proceeded to take another sip. Both of your tongues had been dyed a bright, toxic blue by the end of the night. Typical for Class 3’s tedious twos. That was what your English Teacher had come up with three years ago, when Soonyoung had first started talking to you. Back when you were still just another student in his eyes, until, of course, you weren’t. 

The two of you were mashing the buttons of the Tekken 3 machine. The owner’s son watched the clock, waiting for when he could kick you guys out. 

As the minute hand stepped closer to 10PM, Jeonghan would be free to drop back home and relish in kicking the two annoying high schoolers out of his shop. He couldn’t wait for mischief to arrive.

“Alright, pack it up, idiots,” He clapped his hands incredibly close to your ears. You didn’t flinch, used to his annoying presence. 

“Oi, I need her for backup, don’t annoy us, uncle!” Soonyoung came to your defense. You enjoyed it, somehow. 

Jeonghan backed up, guffawed at the occurrence of being renamed an uncle, and flicked the lights in one go. 

The sound of the arcade machine dying caused you and Soonyoung to deflate in real time. With the clock striking closer to curfew, you couldn't help but flip Jeonghan the finger. He couldn't help but laugh at your profession of anger in return. 

You carried your school bag on hunched shoulders, while Soonyoung finished the last of his drink, pausing when the brain freeze finally ended up phasing past him. When the arcade shutters were placed, you and Soonyoung couldn't help but give each other a glance as the lone gacha vending machines lay outside, unguarded. 

If any passerby were to be interviewed, they would've mentioned seeing two arguing idiots squatting on the floor, fighting for the cuter keychain. Soonyoung, of course, ended up relenting, and you became the owner of a very special edition star keychain. 

Looking back, it was stupid: all of it.

The star keychain felt smaller in your hand now, yet the banter and late nights made up for it. 

June 15th, 1999, Tuesday

Birthdays were usually a quaint affair for your friend group. Unfortunately, the two of you were studying for a big exam. Soonyoung had sat next to you for all three years of high school, something that had shocked you on the first day when he had walked in and slammed his bag next to yours. Initially, you were scared. Was he a gangster? With his unnerving walk, he seemed a bit off. 

You assumed he'd change seats next period after the teacher left. It made sense when you thought about it. He'd taken the only free seat at the back. 

You were shocked when he remained your trustworthy seat-mate, even after years of changing classrooms and teachers, and ages. 

"This is another way we can write non-real numbers, using Euler's number. Don't forget it. Also, focus on trigonometry. I heard they asked it a lot in Jeonghan's paper, last year," you explained. You tried your best to remain as quiet as you could, not wanting to distract anyone during self-study. 

"Jeonghan? When did you talk with him?"

"Hoshi! Not relevant, and let's focus on maths, okay?" You tapped his forehead as he rubbed on, pouting as he grabbed the pen that was lying nearest him.

"Don't hit me on my birthday,"

"Sorry, Birthday boy." You couldn't help but give him a silly face as you watched him work on a few problems. Guess he was listening. He had no problem rushing through the questions. 

Your stomach was rumbling. Your stomach was grumbling rather loudly. Perhaps it was the combined hunger and anxiety, but this had become your new normal, unfortunately. You had told Jihoon to keep Soonyoung's cake at his house, being closer, but you didn't know how much longer you could wait for dinner. 

Soonyoung poked your shoulder, and you couldn't help but glare back, unintentionally. You immediately apologised and rubbed his shoulder. Thankfully, there were only about thirty minutes left until the self-study session was over. 

You looked at Soonyoung lovingly. Your friend whom you'd always relied on. He was your rock, but also your feather, if that made sense. He was there for you when you fell during PE, but was also there to cheer you on when you would supply stupid ideas that would get you pelted on by other friends. It all worked out in the end. Now, you and Soonyoung were off to university together, too! 

You patted his shoulders when the bell finally rang. It was time to get out of this place, stinking with teenage fumes. 

-

You stared on as the two unfamiliar strangers were sitting across from you and Soonyoung, singing off-tune to a very lacklustre happy birthday melody (or what it was supposed to be). 

You helped set up the cake with Jihoon, leaving Soonyoung to be left with the two unfamiliar batch mates. You couldn't help but hurry and stuffed the ribbon wrapping the birthday cake box into your pockets, snagging the corners and presenting the cake to a waiting Soonyoung. Jihoon followed with the candles. 

"So, Wonho, how is the preparation for English going?" Soonyoung had mentioned, with cake eventually running down his cheeks. 

"Uh, it's Wonwoo, and I'd say it's going good. It could be better," the spectacle-wearing guy had answered. 

Soonyoung shifted in his seat, clearly embarrassed for not knowing his batch mates, despite being the self-proclaimed popular guy of the 1999 batch. No issue, he would just talk to the other guy instead. 

"What about you, Junho? How's Chemistry?"

"I'm having a hard time remembering the reagents. But I'm enjoying it anyway. Oh, it's Junhui, by the way," The other guy corrected, kindly. You couldn't take your eyes off the way Soonyoung seemed to melt further into the cushion of Jihoon's living room. He was adorable, now that you looked closely. 

The conversation flowed into the room, eventually, thanks to your help. You tried to flow the conversation between the other four, who were awkward teenage boys who seemed to be meeting for the first time. Even Soonyoung was rather quiet. It was rare, especially when you considered the fact that it was his birthday and he never really got shy around strangers. He even talked back to Jeonghan when you guys first landed at the arcade three years earlier. 

Jihoon had finally mentioned that his mom had offered cake to their next-door neighbours, leading to Wonwoo entering your party of three, and inviting his friend Junhui along. It wasn't that bad with them, in hindsight. Wonwoo ate in silence, while Junhui nodded along to everything you and Jihoon said. It was a mundane conversation, yet the excitement of Soonyoung's birthday eventually got to all of you. You left Jihoon's at almost eleven at night. Soonyoung offered to walk you home. Bright, rose-like ribbon was spilling out of your pants pocket. You couldn't help but push it further into your pocket as Soonyoung talked about his worries for the future. He would be okay, you thought. 

Looking at the frayed ribbon now, you wonder why you held on to it, so many years later. You remembered the bright flash of crimson that wrapped the box, but all that remained was an aged, frayed, and dirty ribbon. 

June 27th, 1999, Sunday

You'd find Junhui crying after one of his exams. You didn't know what to say, but you patted his shoulders and let him cry for a good two minutes while looking out the window, giving him some sort of pseudo-privacy. He'd given you a smile down the hallways a few days later. Soonyoung looked on disapprovingly. You brushed the boy off. 

You and Soonyoung finally finished a few of the more challenging examinations. You'd get a week off before the exams begin again. The pressure of everything was hitting you hard. You'd be stepping into a new world. New people, new environment, A whole new city. This would be something you'd put off for years, but it was getting closer to graduation every day you woke up. Would it be possible to stop time and enjoy the summery days before adulting became real? You didn't want to leave the comfort of your childhood, the comfort of having your closest friends by your side, the taste of your mom's food, the treats your dad would bring back after a long day of work. It was becoming realer by the second, and you couldn't help but be blue as every day grew closer to graduation. Your world might as well just end. 

Soonyoung shook your shoulder gently. You turned to look at him, but looked away almost immediately. He held a small flashlight between his teeth, trying to find a pen you had dropped in the PE field. The grass was growing, untended, as the summer days grew closer and the holidays were inching further towards you. He had grunted back then, his way of asking where you went for a second. If only Soonyoung knew half of your worries. You didn't wanna grow up, not ever. 

Soonyoung offered something in his palm. You grew excited, finally finding your precious pen, but only finding a small leaf in the small of his palm. You grabbed it from him, finding a small four-leaf clover. He smiled at you, his face scrunching up, and the warm wind placed apples of roses on his cheeks. You couldn't help but grab and squish his cheeks in appreciation. What a thoughtful boy, you had thought back then. 

You didn't end up finding the pen, unfortunately, which left you further in the trenches. Soonyoung had given it to you as an olive branch of friendship on your second week as seatmates, and you'd been buying refills of said pen for a good while. 

"Hey, I can always buy you another one. Plus, that pen was on its last run; it's better this way anyway," Soonyoung suggested, lollipop in his cheek. 

He didn't understand. This was another thing that was changing and was out of your control. You felt a bit frantic. Seven exams had finished. You had four more to go. Four more until everything would change. 

The clover was now barely green. You'd remember pressing it flat against a textbook once you'd reached home. You never remember it being still in one piece after so many years apart. 

July 13th, 1999, Tuesday

Jihoon couldn't believe that all his exams were over. All of these exams he'd been studying for were finally over. He was in some sort of daze, feeling a bit under the weather. He pushed his rice around in his bowl, letting his sighs become more and more evident as the afternoon passed on. 

You nudged Soonyoung, gesturing for him to look at Jihoon. The two of you shared a concerned look. Your own plate was rather empty, but Soonyoung was still scarfing his meal down. You tried to bring up conversation, but Jihoon would only hum or nod in response. Soonyoung was growing rather restless, too. 

You couldn't believe how fast things were going downhill. Could you stay cocooned at this lunch table where you'd heard chatter from friends and foes alike, the sound of cutlery being carelessly thrown around, and the sound of high pitched laughters from all four corners? It was impossible, but you looked on at Jihoon, who was now beginning to mirror the storm in your head. The worries of University, work, love, and the future were going to weaken you at the knees. It hurt even more, seeing your friend Jihoon going through something similar. 

Soonyoung watched your face drop as you took in Jihoon's mannerisms. It seemed that the two of you were in deep worry. Usually, you and Soonyoung would come up with something to make Jihoon snap out of it or offer some deep advice. But it didn't work the same way when half of the gag duo was in the same boat as Jihoon. 

Although Soonyoung's face didn't express it, he was going through painful turmoil inside his skin. But how could he express it through words when the two of you lay in front of him, faces all sullen?

Soonyoung pulled out strips of coloured paper and folded them in on themselves, forming three pentagons before tucking the ends of the paper into a small crevice. He pinched with his nails (that you had painted clear the night before), gently on each of the vertices. Soonyoung did this mindlessly, not thinking much. He couldn't let the building migraine take away from what he was attempting to do. When the three mini stars had been made, he placed them on his sweaty palm, offering it between the three of you. 

Jihoon looked on, distracted, but he let out a soft smile that seemed to take away the age of his crinkled eyebrows. He picked the soft pink star. 

You watched lovingly, admiring Soonyoung. He was a good listener and friend, despite what the teachers had warned you against. How could you hate such a thoughtful friend, who knew how to brighten your days without a thought? 

You picked the tiny, bright blue star from his palm and carefully pocketed it into your breast pocket, safe and sound. 

Later, when the two of you were walking home at three in the afternoon, your palm brushed against Soonyoung's. He didn't pull his hand away when you clasped onto his thumb. 

The pinched points of the star were now squashed flat, almost returning to the folded pentagon it once was. No matter how much you tried to pinch it back, it wouldn't budge.

July 30th, 1999, Friday

Graduation. When you first walked into the tall walls of your high school, it seemed as if the day would never come. Your parents smiled on proudly as you dressed in your finest and brought their cameras along to document every moment. They had even saved up for one of those famous Polaroid cameras you had wanted as a birthday gift two years earlier. 

Jihoon smiled as he received flowers from a girl he didn't quite know, and you and Soonyoung stuck to one another. He'd held on to your camera, the strap pressed close to his chest while you fixed his hair that was tucked under the graduation cap. 

Watching him felt like a victory. It was a slap across the face to all the judgmental teachers who had judged Soonyoung based on baseless rumours when he had first transferred into your high school years prior. Soonyoung had a glint in his eyes as you watched the Teachers relaying their final wishes to your graduating batch. It was heartwarming, especially for the teachers who had been nothing but nice to you and Soonyoung. 

When it was all over, Jihoon had walked over to the entrance of your class, one final time, where you and Soonyoung were carving your initials on your desks at the back of the classroom. A way of leaving your mark on this little corner of the world you had grown up in. You used a compass while Soonyoung waited on you, patiently. 

Your tables were now engraved in an amalgamation of disfigured initials. Yours, neatly placed alongside a messy scrawl of "+ K.S.Y".

Jihoon watched on with a smirk, his own graduation cap slipping off. Your classroom was now empty, with the sun sinking further into the horizon. You watched as Jihoon turned a chair towards your desk one last time, and Soonyoung gave Jihoon one last head pat before everything became real. 

You had laughed, your book bag heavy with departing gifts. 

"Hey, let's take a photo, just us," Soonyoung begged. 

"Hosh, you have the camera. You really don't have to pout," You had laughed. 

Jihoon took the camera from Soonyoung's outstretched hands and asked the two of you to pose. 

You smiled, meekly, suddenly aware of the proximity between you and Soonyoung. This was the seat where the two of you reigned at the back of the classroom. Where the two of you tossed stupid notes despite having the ability to whisper. Where you had tutored him thirty minutes before the maths midterm. Where you had expressed your fears of failure. 

But this was now where you were, smiling, with the sun rays falling on your cheeks as you posed alongside your friend, suddenly shy. 

Jihoon snapped, and the photo developed. 

"Hey! One more for me to take home!"

Jihoon rolled his eyes, muttering something about the price of film. 

You pressed your head against his shoulder, feeling tired and slightly nostalgic for the moment you were currently in. 

"Yah! another one!"

In this one, Soonyoung pressed a wet peck against your smiling cheek. You didn't know how to react when he pulled away, and only nodded on as he pocketed the two pictures. 

Jihoon watched on, amused, but he didn't say anything. He knew the two of you would cross the bridge eventually. 

At the end of the day, when you walked home with Soonyoung, he had pressed a book into your hand. It was an English book that you never really got to finishing. The cover was hardback, so you knew it was going to be crazy expensive. When Soonyoung handed it to you before heading home, you had smacked his bicep in appreciation. He held on to your shoulders for a second, remembering your face and etching it into his eyelids. You understood this feeling of longing, somehow. 

"Yah! See you over the summer!" You called out as he walked away.

"Definitely!" His voice cracked as he replied. 

When Soonyoung turned around the corner of your street, you waited for him to turn back. He hadn't.

That was the last time you ever saw Soonyoung. 

Present day, July 30th

You hadn't thought of Soonyoung in a long, long time. It was too painful to think about him and the days you spent together without a thought. When he first disappeared, you had asked around his neighbourhood, only finding out he had moved right after graduation. He left no trace, no clue, nothing. Jihoon had held your sobbing figure on your first birthday after his disappearance, muttering words of courage while his own tears slipped away. 

Your days at the university were promised with Soonyoung, but he'd betrayed you terribly. If you were to see him again, you'd never forgive him. Oh, but you would, that too, with open arms. 

Years later, when you had married Jun, you had felt his lack of presence the hardest. You had mailed an invitation to his old address, only to receive it weeks later, rejected by the mail office. That was when it had finally hit you, your best friend and first love was officially missing. 

Your hands shook as you opened the book slowly, its spine cracking after years of neglect. 

A picture, long forgotten, had slipped out. 

It was a picture from graduation, with Soonyoung pecking your cheek affectionately. You were so young, and he looked so content. Sometimes you wondered if he was happy out there somewhere, and you once hoped he remembered you. You had almost forgotten what he'd looked like. But with the passing of time and your own maturing, you left it as an unfinished chapter in your life. 

The polaroid was as it was the day Jihoon took it, pristine, untouched, and frozen in that forsaken summer. 

You had flipped it, ready to place it back within the book it had been encased in.

In his messy scrawl, he left words that flickered a sudden freezing warmth at the pit of your chest. 

I love you, always. 

from soonyoung. 

end ˎˊ˗

an: thank you for reading. this one hurt to write. also, I don't think there will be a part two to this. this is where soonyoung and mc's story ends <3 . I would like to add that mc got with jun after getting over soonyoung. thank you for reading once again! reblog and comments are very much appreciated.

masterlist

Below his bungalow, closest to his heart, lived a friend he’d known since birth. It was your family. Your family wasn’t in a good financial state, and he’d heard stories from his mom about how scraping your monthly rent was getting harder and harder. It wasn't much, but the half-basement house that you and your family resided in was always welcoming. The floors were often cold, but your family had warm hearts. 

Adjacent to his house was the Yoon Family’s bungalow. They were well off, and about three years ago, Seungcheol, his brother, and his parents rented a small warehouse in the patio of the Yoon Residence. Seungcheol wasn't able to visit often, but whenever he did, Jeonghan was lounging around without a care in the world. His parents were often at work, so Jeonghan often tagged along with whoever was nearby, often eating meals together or watching the latest movies together in Hansol’s room. 

Across his house to the left was Jisoo Hong’s house. Good ol’ reliable Jisoo. Class president Jisoo. The honourable Son Jisoo, the perfect Brother Jisoo. Jisoo and Seungcheol went way back. Jisoo lived in a small, quaint house with his mother and his baby sister. 

Next to Jisoo’s house was the house of the neighbourhood's star boy. The star boy wasn’t even home most of the time, but his room was where the heart of the street resided. The house lay free for the first five years of Seungcheol’s life until a father-son duo made the corner bungalow theirs. Choi Hansol and his father moved into the street fifteen years ago. Their arrival was the final one, and thus, the four musketeers closed up and became five. 

Seungcheol grew up poor. He lived a life with his parents, carefully rationing off their meals so he and his brother could have their fill. Life wasn’t fair to him. It wasn't really fair to anyone who lived on his street. His house was on a small street on the outskirts of Seoul, shying away from the developing city, but close enough to the city for him not to be considered a country bumpkin. 

His family used to be the poorest on their block. Now, his family was the richest. Winning a lottery on a random Tuesday afternoon does that to you. 

In the comfort of his room, he was enjoying a comic that was recently released, with earphones that played some of the hits of 1988: Violet Fragrance, to You, and After The Play Is Over.

“Seungcheol!” His mom called from the kitchen. Seungcheol threw his comic on his bed and ran to the kitchen, where his mom was towering above him, holding a large tray filled with an assortment of rice cakes. 

“Go give some to your friends. Be back before dinner,” his mom gently said, before walking back to the kitchen, checking over the pot that held a bubbling stew. 

-

Seungcheol trudged down the stairs of his house. Then he walked down some more stairs in the gruelling winter down to the half-basement where your family resided. Seungcheol fixed his collar slightly, cleared his throat, and knocked gently against the metal door before walking in with the tray in tow. 

To his surprise, he wasn't the only outsider in the house. He saw you conversing with Jisoo, who was eyeing your house, as if trying to turn it upside down. You, on the other hand, were in your own world, talking and eyeing him as if he were the only person in the whole room. 

As soon as the metal door scraped the concrete floor, both your and Jisoo’s eyes snapped towards Seungcheol’s. Jisoo let out a gentle smile, greeting his friend and bidding him goodbye as he grabbed the small trinket that was in your hand before leaving with a small sigh that went unnoticed by you, but not by Seungcheol. He’ll ask Jisoo what happened later in Hansol’s room.  

You grumbled at Seungcheol, playfully annoyed at his presence. This type of banter and faux anger was common between you and Seungcheol. It was your dynamic. You would say something far too optimistic or dense, and Seungcheol would bluntly pull you out of la la land with a harsh comment or two, and you would reply back with another just quip until Jisoo or Jeonghan pulled you two out of your mental arenas. 

“What are you here for, Seungcheol?” You grumbled out, looking at the retreating figure of Jisoo, slightly fixing your jeans skirt as the last of his footsteps finally left the vicinity. 

“Hey, I don't wanna be here either, okay? My mom just wanted to give you some rice cakes she picked up from the city today.” He picked out a box of red bean rice cakes and handed them to you.

You looked at him with a warm smile, “Thanks. Tell Auntie I’m really grateful. I don’t know how she knew I was craving it today.”

He nodded and awkwardly shuffled around, ignoring the way his ears warmed at the sight of your smile. There wasn't much to do now in the small, cramped room that was your kitchen. 

“I’m going now. Bye.” He walked towards the rusted red door, and a creak played out as he pulled it open. Cool, dry air flowed in thick layers. He put his hands in his pockets and adjusted them. A little scrap of paper fell from his pocket, falling at your doorstep. Before his body fully left your view, he pulled his head into the doorway,

“It’s winter, idiot. Wear more clothes. And keep some rice cakes for your family too. It’s not all for you, you know?” 

-

Choi Hansol didn't spend much time with you guys like he used to. It was rare nowadays for all five of you to gather on the same day. After he started taking Chess professionally, he was only free very late at night, or the hours before sunrise when he wasn’t sleeping. Hansol dropped out of school after earning his FIDE master title at the ripe age of 16. There wasn't a point in staying in school when the tournaments earned him thousands comfortably. The whole neighbourhood cheered for weeks, and Hansol couldn't leave the chess association club without reporters swamping him for days. 

But today was special. The whole gang sat in a circle in Hansol’s room, celebrating Jeonghan’s sister’s birthday. A clear case lay on the floor, a new cassette from Jeonghan’s favourite artist already playing in the background. You were seated between Jeonghan and Jisoo, slightly leaning on Jisoo as Jeonghan rambled on about how his vision worsened due to his overuse of the television he received last year for his 17th birthday. And as it was a special day, marinated fried fish was cooked by Jeonghan’s mother to celebrate.  

“-and I don't know what this doctor's problem was, but he seemed way too excited to tell my dad that I'll be needing glasses, something about goddamn teenagers always glued to the screen!” Jeonghan grumbled as he shoved another spoonful of dry rice into his mouth, talking between gulps, “So now my dad’s taking away my TV until I get my grades for history up!”

Seungcheol ate his meal quietly and watched as you skillfully removed the bones of a piece of fish with your chopsticks and your wrists manoeuvred the tools with practised professionalism. The chunk was then transferred to Hansol, who had dark circles around his eyes and was holding onto his chopsticks only barely. 

“Hansol, what time did you even sleep last night?” Seungcheol asked with a crease on his lip, worried about the treasure of their neighbourhood. 

“Ah, don’t worry, guys. I didn't really get much sleep last night. I was busy studying a new game. It took a bit of time, but I slept a few hours in the afternoon today.” Hansol said with a weak smile. 

“Hansol, how are you going to win your matches if you're only barely awake?” Jisoo chastised, worried about his close friend. 

Hansol just nodded his head, listening carefully to his friends’ chiding scoldings. 

As the meal continued, the gang all assisted Hansol in some way. Seungcheol kept ladling more soy bean soup into his bowl, Jisoo refilled Hansol’s water, Jeonghan handed Hansol the plate of greens that was furthest from him, and you continued to scan chunks of fish for small bones before piling it onto his now empty bowl. 

This was the dynamic that was comforting to your friend group. You all took care of one another in some way, but you all were also united in the way you all took care of the star of your block. To the world, he was the untouchable and only rising star boy Choi Hansol, but to the four of you who had grown up along with him, he was a friend and treasure to protect and care for. 

-

“Guys, I’m going to go now, it’s getting kinda late.” You yawned, stretching your limbs out as the sun began to set, and a dark red glow overcame Hansol’s room. 

“Oh yeah, before you leave,” Jisoo stopped you and handed you a sheet of carefully folded paper, “Could you ask your older sister to read my personal statement out for me? She probably knows what's good and not, since she's already in university,” Jisoo mumbled out.  

You stopped and looked at him with hearts in your eyes. Hansol and Jeonghan were in the middle of a conversation about his next tournament, but Seungcheol watched on as you nodded bashfully and took the sheet meekly. He dropped the comic book from his hand and felt his heart pang. What was this feeling? Why were you suddenly so shy around Jisoo? Yeah, sure, Jisoo was a good-looking guy and had a few admirers across the school and town, but wasn’t he just a friend? If a relationship were to begin between the two of you (Seungcheol was praying, and he never really did, but he was praying that the day wouldn’t come), wouldn’t it be awkward for the rest? The quintet would be split into a couple and a trio, and Seungcheol didn't like the sound of that. He would be okay with it if it were him instead of Jisoo, but-

Wait, what? 

No. 

Seungcheol stood up hurriedly, shaking his head. The four of you looked on curiously. These thoughts are only temporary, Seungcheol. 

“Guys, my mom told me to get home early, gotta run.” He garbled. He grabbed his coat and rushed out of Hansol’s room, and walked briskly to the entrance, where he began to tie his shoes. He didn't know why, but he wasn't able to tie them well. He tied them. Then untied them. 

The door opened, and you came out of the door, smiling ear to ear as you waved everyone goodbye and good night. “Goodbye, guys! Bye Jisoo, sleep well.”

Seungcheol continued tying his shoes, and this time, it felt right. You were now walking towards him, and wore your shoes without tying them, creasing the almost torn sneakers that you’d been using for the past four years now. His new, white, expensive pair of sneakers made yours look extra shabby. But he didn’t care. Maybe he’d gift you a new pair on your next birthday. 

“Hey, didn't you have to leave early?” You asked once you joined him at the entrance. You were wearing a grey fleece sweater, but you were still shivering slightly. 

“Oh, yeah, it wasn’t really that big of a deal.” He said, looking away from you. 

You nodded and walked ahead of him, shivering and warming yourself with self-hugs. 

Seungcheol walked a few steps behind you, his hands tightening on his warm coat. His hands were almost extending the coat towards your shoulders, but he hesitated and let his hands drop fully. He shook his head. This will only fuel my delusions. 

“This is my stop. Good night, Seungcheol.” You turned around and bid him goodbye as you reached home and walked down the stairs to your basement home. 

“This is our stop.” He mumbled into the cool evening air as the coat lay lonely in his arm. 

-

It was a Saturday afternoon, and the four of you, minus Hansol (who was at a tournament in Kyoto and wouldn’t return until Monday), were watching a movie in Hansol’s room. The four of you were eating Ramen in the sunny afternoon and were discussing upcoming plans for the winter. 

“Guys, I have something I wanna tell you.” Jisoo suddenly announces seriously. Everyone looked towards him, and the room suddenly turned quiet in anticipation. 

“I like someone. And I don't know what to do about it.”

The room went crazy as the cacophony of your and Jeonghan’s squeals filled the walls. 

Seungcheol couldn’t believe his ears. He watched Jisoo watch your reaction, and he watched on at how all your teeth were visible from the toothy grin you had sprawled over your face. Jisoo’s face warmed with embarrassment. Jeonghan prodded Jisoo on the person’s identity, and Jisoo had walls high, protecting this person's identity with a passion. 

Seungcheol felt his stomach plummet. He knew what was coming. He wasn't blind. He saw the trips Jisoo made to your house. I mean, Jisoo had to pass his house before reaching yours. He saw the way you applied lip tint when Jisoo was present. He saw Jisoo carry small trinkets from your house to his. He saw Jisoo borrow batteries for his sister's toy, knowing well that Jisoo’s mom didn't allow his baby sister to have electronic toys yet. It was just an excuse to see you. 

The giggles slowed down until there was a brief moment of silence. 

“Confess.” You spoke confidently, after deliberation. “Confess on the day of the first snow. Your love will come true.” You promised with a warm smile. 

Seungcheol felt bile rise. He needed to leave before he felt suffocated by his own emotions of grief. Why wouldn’t you look at him like that?

-

From his room, Seungcheol watched the night sky. Everyone was probably asleep by now. The street was quiet, and a deep lull fell over the community. The window of his room was slightly frosted as nighttime temperatures plummeted. He was at his desk, writing gibberish over his physics book. He didn't know why, but he felt like tonight was going to change something. 

From his window, he caught a head moving from the corner of his eye. What was Jisoo doing outside this late? 

Then, snow fell. 

They fell in small flakes at first, and Seungcheol's heart stopped. 

He snatched his coat and walked into the freezing winter towards your house. The walls were thin, and although he didnt wanna eavesdrop, he probably had to listen to this confession to get over you. Yeah, I admit it. I like you. 

Jisoo called out your name softly. 

Seungcheol could guess you tilted your head, waiting for the confession. 

“Could you get your older sister for me?” Jisoo asked bashfully. 

Seungcheol’s eyes widened, and his heart felt a little lighter. 

“Why?” You asked, dense as ever, not understanding what your sister has to do with your looming first relationship. 

“Well, because it's snowing... and you told me to confess on the day of the first snow.”

It was silent for a good few seconds.

“Ah, Jisoo, she's not home right now. She went on a retreat with her university friends. Good luck to you, though! And don't worry, I'll keep it a secret from the others for you.” He heard you chuckle out after a few seconds. 

You guys conversed for a few seconds, but Seungcheol wasn’t listening anymore. I still have a chance! 

The corrugated metal flap creaked, and Jisoo made his way out. Seungcheol hid between the empty storage crates so Jisoo wouldn’t notice him eavesdropping. 

Jisoo likes her older sister. That means that I still have a chance! 

Jisoo left. The snow kept falling, and Seungcheol still felt relief. 

A silent wail came from within the entrance of your home. Seungcheol recognized it as your cry. His heart wrenched, hearing you cry. His good friend, who always had something to say. He couldn’t bear it. His hand grew closer to the handle of your door. He wanted to comfort you, curse Jisoo out for leading you on, and hug you. His hand shrank away as he heard you come closer towards the door, possibly hearing his footsteps.

Seungcheol rapidly retreated to his own house, feeling relieved with the newfound revelations.  

-

First love was blooming over the streets of his childhood block. For Jisoo, it was the ever-looming confession to your older sister that he hadn’t uttered yet. For Seungcheol, it was the love he felt for you since last year, quietly brewing in his chest. There were silent moments at night where he’d wait for you to return from the library after late-night study sessions. He would be waiting in the alley with an umbrella, handing it to you, before rushing in the rain back home, leaving behind a bewildered you. He couldn’t sleep for another hour, and finally slept at 2 am. 

For Seungcheol, first love made him do insane things. 

Things like showing up to a coffee shop for you when you called him at four in the afternoon, rushing to get his coat, and telling his mom rapidly that he'll be back before lunch. 

He wore a new shirt, his mom told him he looked rather dashing in, and wore his dad’s cologne, before tying the red shoes he saw you eyeing the other day. He almost bought you a bouquet. But then he shook his head and thought he might be going crazy. 

-

Your two friends greeted him as you eyed him suspiciously. Why would he even come? This cafe is in the middle of Seoul. It didn't make sense coming all the way to the city centre from your neighbourhood just for some coffee. 

“Hi, yes, nice to meet you. I’m Choi Seunghceol.” He bowed and said his hellos respectfully. 

“I thought it was just gonna be the two of us.” He said quietly. His words, unfortunately, were heard by your friends, who weren’t offended at all and looked at one another, curiosity brewing, and realised that something else was going on between the two of you. 

January 1989, Seoul, Seungcheol. 

Seungcheol pocketed the two tickets to a concert that was taking place next week. He thinks this might be a good time to ask you out, and possibly get closer. 

It was another one of those nights where Seungcheol waited at the alley. He was waiting for you to come home from another late-night study session. He was looking over at the tickets. He had to wait in line for two hours to snag these tickets. The price was outrageous, but he knew you liked this artist dearly; you were always humming her songs on the bus ride to school. 

He heard footsteps edge closer to where he was standing. He straightened up, fixed his bun, and let the hair fall into his face. It was chilly, and he was sure his cheeks were crimson. From the weather and also due to the fact that he was going to ask you out. 

Your eyes widened in surprise as you made eye contact with his figure.

“Hmm? Seungcheol? Waiting for me again?” You teased. 

“It’s not like that idiot. Anyways. I wanted to ask if you,” he paused. His nerves were getting to him, and it was hard to speak when you looked so youthful and warm under the cold moonlight. “Go to her concert with me. It’s on a Saturday, so I know you’re free and all.” 

It was quiet. 

You looked up at him with wide eyes, and he noticed your lips were parted and slightly cracking in the cool winter. You gulped. 

“Come.” He mumbled.

“Come with me.”

You nodded hurriedly and took the ticket. 

“Oh, and,” 

You looked at him once more, seeing this side of Seungcheol for the first time.

“Come home a little earlier, will you? It’s our neighbourhood, yeah, but it can be unsafe.”

-

Seungcheol thinks your friends have said something to you. He noticed that you’ve been paying more attention to him nowadays. He should thank your two friends someday. 

As the gang sat down in Hansol’s room, you shoved Jeonghan to the side and took his place beside Seungcheol. His ears warmed, and he looked away. He felt you look at him, and his heart seemed to be growing louder by the second. 

What is going on… I’m not complaining, but this is all new.

Hansol sat to your right and was struggling with opening a can of soda. His nails were often bitten and bloody from the stress of Chess. Without taking your eyes off the TV screen, you snapped the tab of the can and offered it to him, even with a straw that you pulled out of your jeans. 

Hansol was smiling and patted your head in gratitude. Jeonghan let out a loud burp, and Jisoo smacked his head, annoyed with his antics again. The room rumbled as you told them all to shut it, and you had your eyes glued to the movie displayed. 

After about an hour, the movie ended. Hansol had gone back to biting his thumb as the conversation about the upcoming week's plans commenced. You noticed Hansol’s practice. Annoyed, you smacked his thumb away from his mouth. 

The sound of skin thwacking brought attention to you two, and Seungcheol teased you in faux annoyance. “Hey, don't hurt our little treasure, or else you’ll have to take responsibility and take care of him for the rest of your life.”

“That’s no problem with me. I take good care of Hansol, too, you know?” You said with an air of pride and self-righteousness surrounding you. 

“Oh? Look at Hansol, all blushing. Don't tell me you like her?” Jisoo teased. 

“Guys don't say weird stuff,” You chided as all five of you giggled.

Conversations sprang from the five of you, and you guys eventually started talking about how Jisoo’s baby sister might start kindergarten soon. Time really flew. 

-

“I’m gonna go buy some snacks for us from the corner store. What do you guys want?” You asked as you picked up your thin coat. 

“Squid crackers!” “Ice cream, please.” “Ice cream for me, too, please.” Voices rang out. 

“Hansol, you?”

“It’s okay, nothing for me. Get back soon, it's cold.” Jeonghan and Jisoo eyed Hansol as he uttered the words, while you and Seungcheol looked at one another. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” Seungcheol asked.

“No, it's okay. I'll be back soon, okay?” You say warmly, with a meek smile. 

-

“Do you like her?”

“YOU IDIOT WE SAW YOU SMILING”

“ ‘Get back soon, it’s cold,’ ” Jeonghan mocked Hansol’s monotone dialogue. 

Was teased inside the room as soon as you left. 

“Hey, no, seriously, do you like her?” Jisoo asked Hansol. 

Everyone in the room is smiling. Seungcheol forces one out. He doesn’t really like the way the conversation is going. 

“Hey, there’s no wa-” Seungcheol silently voices out, before he’s interrupted, painstakingly. 

“I do like her. I’ve liked her for a while now.” Hansol states, with a gentle smile, as he looks down at his nails on his lap. 

Seungcheol feels a blur pass over his ears. Please, no, not again. 

The conversation is tossed between Jisoo, Jeonghan, and Hansol. Seungcheol listens in and faintly nods. Seungcheol thinks he’s going to be sick. 

“And, I think I’m going to confess soon,” Hansol states with a face of naive determination. 

The room grows silent. 

“Oh my, our Hansol is all grown up.” Jeonghan teases. The three boys laugh on. Seungcheol joins half-heartedly. He wants to be happy at the thought of his friends together, but his heart feels like it's being pierced. The thought of you smiling into Hansol’s shoulder suddenly bangs against his brain, and he knows that a chess game has begun. 

-

You decided to dress well today. You wore your best, cleanest undershirt and wore a pink thick sweater. Yes, it was winter. But you wore your jeans skirt. It made you look good! The concert wasn’t going to start until seven, but here you were, all ready by four. You were going to meet Seungcheol outside of your home. Your parents were out of the house, and your sister was who knows where. You didn't really care.  

You were waiting outside your house at six. Seungcheol was going to come out anytime. Your mom arrived home about thirty minutes ago and was busy preparing dinner. 

Your mom screamed your name, and you ran down the stairs, rushing home. Seungcheol could wait a minute or two, right? 

“You got a call,” your mom calls out as she walks into the kitchen. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. Who could it be?

“Hello?”

“It’s Seungcheol. You should go to the concert without me tonight.”

“Huh, what the heck? Why? Weren't we supposed to go together?”

“I can't make it today.”

“Why?”

“Cus I can't? Can your idiot mind just take that for an answer? I don't wanna go!”

You hung up before he said his final words.

-

Seungcheol, on the other side of the line, slammed the receiver back down and walked to his room before slamming his door shut. Thankfully, his family was out of town at a relative's wedding, or else he would’ve gotten disciplined for his behaviour. 

He cursed out and lay on his bed, tears welling up at his water line. 

He had to grow apart. He can't get too attached. He can't do that to his friend Hansol. 

-

It was about eight at night. You should be at the concert, enjoying yourself. So when he saw your head walk away from the street, from the entrance of your home, from his bedroom, Seungcheol grew confused. 

He followed you, holding his coat, noticing you were wearing only your thin home clothes. 

He noticed you walking towards the staircase at the end of your street, where you sat down and just broke down, sobbing. 

He wanted to walk to you and apologise so badly. He’d get on his knees if you’d like. He’d buy you those rice cakes that you so badly craved. He’d apologise until you’d smile. Anything for you. 

He was thinking about whether he should take a step towards you or not when Hansol walked into view, coming home from the chess club at night. 

Seungcheol stepped back.   

Hansol immediately noticed and took off his coat and wrapped it around you. 

You looked up at Hansol and sobbed into his left shoulder. Hansol, who grew to be a bear, his feelings all hidden and silent, took a step towards you, patted your shoulder, and let himself shoulder the unknown pain you were carrying. He wanted you to feel okay, whenever that would be. 

Seungcheol watched silently from the corner. He wished he were Hansol. He felt his legs tremble from the cold. But he knew it wasn't just the weather that was affecting him. It was the fact that you were crying because of him, because of his actions, and there wasn't anything he could do about it. 

-

Seungcheol was sitting on the steps to your home. He was checking his watch. His heart grew heavier, realising how long he’s been spending with Hansol. Why him?

He heard you trudging towards him, and he stood up and felt his vision whiten for a second. 

You saw him. You glared at him and tried to swerve past him. 

“Hey,” Seungcheol mumbled. 

You rolled your eyes and tried to swerve past him again. 

“Hey,” he repeated firmly, and he held your shoulders to keep you in place. 

“What do you want now?” You muttered. 

“I wanna apologise. I’m sorry. It wasn’t right of me to cancel at the last minute, and in such a rude way without an explanation either.”

“Yeah, it wasn't right.” You said, looking away from him. 

“And I'll give you a proper explanation now,” he said, stalling. 

“Which is..?”

He felt like sweating. Was he going to confess to you, right here and right now? In the freezing winter? Should he be honest with you right now? Who knows, maybe you feel the same way-

“I wasn't feeling well, to be honest. I walked home yesterday in the snow, so I wasn't really up for going out today.” He lied.

Silence.

“That’s it? My gosh, you should’ve told me yesterday straight away, I wouldn’t have gotten mad, you know. I'm your friend too!”

Yeah, friend.

February 1989, Seoul, Seungcheol. 

It was cleaning day for Seungcheol. he was getting rid of clothes left and right that he had grown out of. Eventually, he looked at the pink cotton shirt you gifted him on his birthday last year. He didn't really like pink. But you got it for him, so just like you, he liked it too. It lay on his desk as he looked over it. You were smart and ripped the price tag off, but he knew you scoured every piggy bank in your room to save enough money for his birthday gift. His heart beamed at the fact that you cared so much. 

He smiled, looking at the shirt. It looked comfortable and easy to breathe in. It was very Seungcheol, aside from the colour, which was very you. It made him blush as he looked at it. 

His older brother walked into his room. 

“Seungcheol, can I borrow your stapler? Mine has pins stuck to it.” He said. 

His older brother was eyeing his shirt. Seungcheol saw right through his brother. 

“Hey, can I borrow this shirt someday? I wanna wear it on a date-”

“No,” Seungcheol stated while handing his brother the stapler. 

“Not this one.”

-

It was an early morning to school, and winter was beginning to fall from its peak. The bus was extremely packed, and all the seats were distributed to the elderly, and you were holding onto a handrail, that too barely. You were getting slammed, left to right, as the bus driver showed no mercy on the roads, manoeuvring the bus in a way that left you feeling sick. 

As the brakes were slammed once more, you thrashed forward, falling onto a businessman who was sleeping against a seat, tired and very obviously sleep-deprived. The push you gave him woke him up, and you gave him an apologetic smile. 

This continued for a while, you getting pushed around, bumping into various people, growing overwhelmed and uncomfortable by the second. 

Suddenly, you didn't feel the push anymore. Strong arms were respectfully placed next to you, keeping you in place. Alarmed, you tried to turn around, but there wasn't much space. Using your hands, you tried to push the hands away.

You felt the person flinch.

“Relax, idiot. It’s just me. Don’t want you falling out of the window without me being there to witness it.”

You nodded. You didn't know Seungcheol could be this considerate. 

“Oh, you idiot. You gonna invest in some gloves? It’s already February, and you're still freezing.” He whispered from behind you. 

Maybe Seungcheol should buy you those pink gloves you’re always complaining about, never saving enough for. 

-

Seungcheol was looking at the night sky once again. He was alone, sitting on the patio. He noticed that he's been doing this a lot as of late.

He doesn’t understand why this is happening to him. Your smile, which usually brought him so much euphoria, was now inflicting pain on him. 

Today, when the gang was eating ice cream together at the corner store, Hansol got some chocolate ice cream on the corner of his lip. You, of course, wiped it off with your thumb, but not before chastising him for not being able to eat well at the age of 18. Then you smiled and ate the chocolate ice cream left on your thumb. 

Seungcheol watched awkwardly as the two of you were left in a silent, smiling reverie. There wasn't much he could do.

Why couldn't Hansol just be a bad person? Seungcheol so badly wished that his friend were a bad person. A person who was awful, someone who was horrible. It would make hating him easier. He could hate him for liking his first love, too. It was stupid, Seungcheol was aware, but his heart clenched every time Hansol inched closer to you. 

But realistically, how could he hate Hansol? Hansol, who had handed him a hot, wafting Bungeo-ppang earlier today when he was rubbing his hands closely together at the corner store, freezing.

February 1989, Seoul, You. 

Hansol lost a tournament big time. It was on live TV and made it to the news. It generally was not a good day. 

You were coming back from the corner shop after buying snacks. The days were turning out to be still very dry and freezing, but that didn't stop you from going on a supply run. 

It was about seven in the evening, and you were walking home, enjoying the crackers you ate, and skipping as you turned into the alley where your house resided. 

You paused. Hansol was begrudgingly walking home. You heard about the loss from your dad, who was watching the news once he got home. You felt for him, your hard-working friend who always pushed himself to extremes. 

Hansol spotted you. You gave him a half-hearted wave and walked towards him. Words didn’t have to be spoken. The two of you had an unspoken understanding and felt comforted by one another. 

You offered him your crackers. 

He smiled weakly and shook his head with a no. He came towards you, and suddenly, you were in his bubble. He looked into your eyes with his innocent intensity, and you never realised how much Hansol had changed. His face matured, and his cheekbones had become so much more defined than the chubby face he had when you guys were introduced at age five. 

His face fell towards the shorter one. His warm forehead rested on your covered shoulder. It’s been a while since he embraced you. You didn't know why, but something was different about today. But you let it be. He needed this. 

He spoke your name so softly that I just barely caught it, even though he was resting on your shoulder.

“It’s okay for me to lose, right?”

Your heart clenched. His words, the pressure he carried, it was immensely crazy. This was Hansol, Choi Hansol, your friend of 13 years. You fell into his embrace and patted him. 

“It’s completely fine. You did your best, Hansol.”

“Your hands are so cold. Go in now.” He said, falling back from the comforting hug you both shared. 

“You go in too.” You replied, smiling and patting his hair.

Was he just your friend, right? So why did your heart thunder against your ears when you saw him entering his house? 

You didn't notice the eyes watching above you, slamming the lights of his room close once the sound of the corrugated metal thrashed against the concrete.

The very next morning, pink gloves were deposited at your doorstep. Your younger brother told you that Hansol handed them off to him when he was on the way to the chess club. 

Hansol was a good friend, you thought. Your heart probably disagreed.

February 1989, Seoul, Seungcheol.

Seungcheol woke up early. His brother was making a racket around the house, something about going on a date with his girlfriend. Seungcheol didn't really care. He just wanted breakfast. 

He heard a knock on the door and went out to check who it was. You were standing there, in a white sweater, all cosy, with thick fleece pants, slightly shivering. He was reminded of the night he saw you embracing Hansol and suddenly felt like throwing up. 

“Mom! I’m leaving for my date now! Wish me luck!” His brother screamed from inside the house. 

“Ah, Seungcheol, morning. My mom wanted to ask if your family had some rice to spare.” You told him, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

Before he could agree, his brother stepped out and fixed his shirt. 

“Don't I look dashing?” His brother asked you. 

You, for some reason, looked more awake, looking at the shirt with blank eyes. It was pink. Pleated, cotton, and comfortable. Looked like the one you gifted Seungcheol. In fact, it was the one you gifted Seungcheol. 

Seungcheol’s eyes widened. He didn't know what his brother did, but he knew his shirt was in his wardrobe. He had checked it just this morning. 

His brother gave you a small salute and walked away, all giddy about his date. 

Before Seungcheol could explain, he saw the tears welling in your eyes. 

“Forget it. I'll ask Jeonghan’s family instead.”

Maybe Seungcheol should’ve explained, rather than letting you walk away.

-

“Don't I look handsome?” Seungcheol’s brother asked his girlfriend. 

“Of course, I was the one who bought it for you, love. Is it the one you saw, right? Is it the correct one?” his girlfriend replied. 

Seungcheol’s brother nodded. He felt a little embarrassed copying his younger brother, but a good shirt was a good shirt. 

February 1990, Seoul, Hansol. 

Hansol’s birthday was a small event from ages one to five. His parents did their best to make him happy, and once it was just him and his father, it was a day where they ate breakfast, his father handed him a hard-earned gift, and Hansol would jump into his father's arms, and the day would go on.

That changed once he moved to the new street, his father said, would be good for them. His birthdays were days he often looked forward to. The whole block would gather. The kids would get pizzas delivered to Hansol’s room, and the parents would party and watch tv together at one of the houses. 

Today was no different. 

Pizza was getting eaten left and right, you and Jeonghan argued over the last slice, when Jisoo played a song that you hadn’t heard in a while. Both you and Jeonghan dropped the argument, grabbed one another, and danced along to the silly song. 

You swung your arms clumsily, almost clocking Jeonghan in the face. 

The other three guffawed at your silliness, and Hansol let out a loud chuckle. He looked around the room to grasp Jisoo and Seungcheol’s reactions. 

And there was Seungcheol, staring at you as if you held the world in your arms. He looked at you the same way you’d look at an oasis, someone who’s holding your lifeline. He was laughing with this dazed look in his eyes, never knowing when you’d disappear as you turned Jeonghan around and shook your head. Seungcheol looked at you the way Hansol did. As if he were in love with you.

Hansol’s face fell. The revelation that he wasn't the only one vying for his first love's attention was slightly haunting. He couldn’t do this to his best friend. He couldn’t do that to Seungcheol.

December 1994, Seoul, Seungcheol.

The gang was united for Jisoo’s birthday. It’s been a while since everyone was here. You often stayed at your apartment in central Seoul, which was closer to where you worked. It didn't pay much, but you were sure to climb the ranks soon enough. Jeonghan joined his family’s business, while Jisoo entered medical school. Seungcheol worked in Busan, far away from his home, where the scent of his first love lingered and remained. At least he had an excuse for not being able to come home as often, being stationed in Busan, and staying there. Hansol continued to stay at his childhood home, working hard and earning his International Master's title. The whole gang wasn’t exactly there to celebrate, all busy with work and commute, but you sent a flower vase to his home. 

But like six years ago, today was special. Winter was coming close, and the holidays finally coincided. All five of you were home. A weekend back in your childhood street sounded like pure comfort. At least to everyone but Seungcheol. He couldn’t exactly bear your presence. This was not your fault. It was the fact that to this day, Seungcheol chided himself for his actions. Once everyone got busy with college and work, those everyday moments the gang shared slowly dissipated. He never really got to tell you how much he always cared. But perhaps this reunion could be the start of something. Hansol probably has a girlfriend by now. He heard various stories of Hansol’s love life from his bored mother on his daily phone calls.

He entered Hansol’s room, where the rest of the five were already lounging around. Even after six years, and even after the slight tension that formed between Hansol and Seungcheol (suddenly, and was never resolved), the room had remained stuck in time, and had a thick layer of comfort wrapped around it. This was the room of his youth that locked away various memories that he created alongside his friends. 

-

After the cake had been cut, after the food had been wiped off the plates, and after all the catching up had been done, the five friends were lying around the room. 

“Did your latest boyfriend break up with you again?” Jisoo joked as the topic of partners was brought up. 

“Nope. And by the way, I've never been broken up with. We usually have mutual understanding and leave one another amicably.” You snapped, defending your pride childishly. 

“Mutual understanding and leaving one another amicably just sounds like you got dumped!” Seungcheol yowls, and the whole room erupts in laughter again. 

“Very funny. Laugh all you want, but I’m going to a concert date tomorrow.” You boasted.

“Hold up, is it Seo Taiji and Boys?” Jeonghan asked.

“Yup. Had to stand in line for two hours for it.” You smirked.

Seungcheol knows it's been six years. But hearing you utter the word date, and it not being with him, still ached. 

Hansol was doing no better. 

-

“-and I just wanna say I’m so sorry, it's not you, it's me, I just don’t think I’m ready for a relationship. Please, enjoy the concert with a friend. I’m really sorry. I hope you find someone better than me.” 

You listened to his words through the telephone with a bored look. You didn't really know him that well; you guys only started dating last week! You would miss the concert, but it was okay. You could always go next year. 

You sighed. 

“Dear, could you go buy some chives and potatoes from the corner store?” Your mom called out. 

You nodded, grabbed your wallet, and left. 

-

Walking into the street, you noticed the gang already talking with one another, lounging on the stairs outside of Seungcheol’s house, enjoying some coffee together before work. 

“Oi! You off to that concert date of yours?” Jisoo joked. It was obvious you weren’t going to the concert, being dressed in only some thin chequered pants and a large oversized sweater.

It was already embarrassing getting dumped for the fourth time this year. You chose to be prideful. 

“Yeah. I’m on the way to the concert hall. Why, jealous?” You asked Jisoo sarcastically. You weren’t really upset, and everyone could tell, but it was fun among friends to play along. 

“Cmon, I'll give you a lift, it's on the way. Seungcheol and I are going to watch a movie at ten anyway. Your concert is at ten too, right?” Jeonghan offered. You nodded.

“What about you, Hansol? Do you have any work today?” You asked Hansol. 

“I have an important match against a grandmaster at ten as well.”

“Well, you guys are all booked and busy! I need to help my sister with maths. Enjoy the concert, movie, and completion!” Jisoo said. 

1994 December, concert hall, the same day, You.

You called various friends from high school, asking if anyone was free. You even called a senior who used to tease you for your handwriting. They all declined. It was too last-minute, and commuting to the concert hall would take far too long. 

You were beginning to shiver as the last of the ushers began to call everyone into the concert hall, asking everyone with tickets to enter as soon as they could. This was all your doing. Why did you have to be so prideful? They were all your childhood friends… but embarrassing yourself in front of Hansol and the others just seemed too humiliating. 

A thick, heavy jacket was laid on your shoulders, and the sound of heavy panting enveloped you. You turned around to glance at who this stranger was, ready to pick a fight, when you noticed his messy waft of hair with a messily made tie in tow. 

1994 December, movie theatre, the same day, Seungcheol.

“Do you seriously think she actually got dumped?” Seungcheol asked while waiting in line for tickets. 

“Oh yeah for sure,” Jeonghan muttered. 

“Then why did you drop her off?” Seungcheol asked with mirth in his voice.

“Eh, I thought she'd just take a taxi back home.” Jeonghan cackles. 

The movie was about to start, but Seungcheol felt restless. He should be there, with you. But you said your boyfriend would be there, should he go or should he stay?

Seungcheol shot up. He waited before. He won't wait now. 

Jeonghan almost gets up. “Where are you going?” He whispers.

Seungcheol doesn't reply, but he races to his car, where he zooms towards the concert hall with adrenaline rushing into his veins. 

Red light. A red light made him wait 30 seconds. He slammed the horns in anger and frustration. This can't be happening now. He’s so tired of time and chance taking away his opportunities for a future together with you.

He parks haphazardly in a no-parking zone and runs full speed towards the entrance, where he sees you.

You weren't alone. You were laughing, as if the world was kept in front of you. 

He sees you wrapped in a heavy coat, chatting with Hansol, who holds a blush on his cheeks. 

Seungcheol turns around and gets his car ready to go back home.

-

“On to today's chess news. Famous International Master Hansol Choi withdrew from his first match with Grandmaster X due to personal issues. This is the first-ever withdrawal we have seen from the international master in the past eight years of his professional chess career. We wish him the best.”

-

Seungcheol doesn’t feel like walking. He’s still stuck in his car, six hours later, listening to sad songs from his childhood, thinking about why this happened to him. 

No. This didn't happen to him. He did this to himself. Perhaps it is due to all the maybes that stopped him, and all the times he hesitated in front of you. He’s cursing at himself. At first, it started off with him blaming his surroundings. The red light failed him, his speed failed him. Then realist action hit. Why didn't he go to that concert with you? Why didn't he ever explain that the shirt you gifted is still stuck in his childhood bedroom, unopened and forever cherished? Why did he care so much about being cool and uncaring? Why couldn't he comfort you the night Jisoo left you crying? Why didn't he get to you first when you went crying after he cancelled the concert? Why was he unnecessarily rude? Why was it that every single time you felt cold, he let you fend for yourself, even though he had his coat ready, and all he had to do was extend his hand? Why didn't he confess that day? Why? Why him? Maybe Hansol wanted you more and was more forward about it. Why couldn’t Hansol be a bad person, so you’d fall for Seungcheol instead? Why does it hurt so much to watch you take care of Hansol, when Hansol has been doing the same this whole time? Why didn't he get you the gloves you so desperately wanted? What about the shoes you constantly creased? Why did Seungcheol wait around until Hansol swooped in with soft pink yarn gloves, adorned on your hands that eventful winter six years ago? Maybe all he could blame was himself.

1994 December, Christmas, a nearby restaurant, Seungcheol.

It’s been a few weeks since the concert. The parents were all enjoying dinner together, and so the kids (who are now all in their mid-twenties) all decided to have a hearty dinner at a nearby restaurant in the neighbourhood that opened well after they all left for work and university.

Hansol was late. He was finishing up a tournament, and so it was only the four of you for now. 

Seungcheol sat across from you and drank his water silently, chuckling at Jeonghan’s antics. 

“-And then she confessed to him. Can you believe it?” Jeonghan was reenacting the story of how his parents met. 

“Yes, we can,” Seungcheol chuckles. 

Jeonghan turns towards Seungcheol, now choosing his target. 

“Guess we’ll all grow old before we see you confessing to anyone.” He chuckled. 

It grew silent as the chuckles between you four died down. 

Seungcheol called out your name. 

You looked towards him. 

“I like you.”

The table grows silent as Jisoo and Jeonghan eye one another, wondering what is going on. 

“Do you know how much I've liked you over the past seven years? You who always had something to say to me? Do you know how many times I went crazy thinking about how you always reached home after studying at one in the morning? I was in the freezing cold because I wanted to see you so much. I just always wanted to be around you and bask in your presence. I’d always beg my mom to buy you those crazy expensive red bean rice cakes you’d like, and I stood two hours to get that concert ticket we never went to. I had to pretend to tie my shoes multiple times so we could walk to and from school together; that’s how badly I always wanted to be around you. Do you know I avoided coming home because you were always lingering around? I just liked you so much, and there was nothing I could do about it. I’m sorry I never did anything about it.”

The table was silent, and your eyes were glossy. 

Seungcheol chuckled and turned towards Jeonghan. 

“You happy, Jeonghan?” 

“Huh, what?”

“You said we’d all grow old before you saw me confess to someone. I’m somewhat of an actor myself, you know.” Seungcheol confesses. 

“Man, I almost believed that, that was crazy good!” Jisoo laughs. 

You and Seungcheol look at one another for a second, and there's a common understanding between you two. Jisoo and Jeonghan may believe Seungcheol’s lie, but you listen to the confession earnestly and offer genuine closure. 

The restaurant's entrance bell chimes, and your head snaps towards the door. 

Seungcheol watches as you deflate in disappointment, when a lady walks in, instead of Hansol.

Checkmate. 

Hansol won. 

Bonus:

December 1988, Seoul, you.

Pfft, he's so stupid, you thought. You closed the door behind him as you shoved the rice cakes into your mouth, enjoying their sweet, chewy taste. 

You see the paper he dropped. 

Now he’s littering too!

Mom, can you please, please go to the city today? I don't know why, but I’m craving red bean rice cakes today. Please. Thanks.

You know for a fact that Seungcheol hates the chewiness of rice cakes. 

end ˎˊ˗

a/n: thank u my wonderful friends for reading. thinking back, I wrote this two years ago and kept it hidden for a good while... oops. but yeah.. were u guys rooting for cheol? or hansol? or jisoo even... comments, likes and weblogs are always appreciated but never compulsory. let me know what u thought in the comments if you'd like :D love reading your thoughts ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜