mark’s twin flame🧸💖

⋆.masterlist ⊹✩

key: fluff [f] | smut [s] | angst [a]

ㅤ࣭ ㅤㅤׂ ㅤ ㅤˑㅤ ㅤ۟ ㅤ₊ ☆　┈ @txt

txt as romantic tropes [f] txt as hybrids [s]

soobin affection [s] always ours [s] off-camera [s] midnight cravings [s] sinners [a] [f] [s] yeonjun the mysterious boy I met yesterday [f] [a] wishes come true [s] just chillin' [s] always ours [s] teacher's pet [s] assigned to you [s] beomgyu fOoL fOr yOu [f] el muchacho de los ojos tristes [a] I hate and need him so much!! [s] because of you [f] second chance [a] [f] late night host radio 1 [s] late night host radio 2 [s] revenge [s] because of you [s] married in red [s] on the drive home [a] I'M GETTING RIPPED TONIGHT [s] don't hide from me [s] taehyun prophecy [s] punch! [s] not really related [s] the weight of silk and silence [s] huening kai worship you [s]

ㅤ࣭ ㅤㅤׂ ㅤ ㅤˑㅤ ㅤ۟ ㅤ₊ ☆　┈ @nct 127

nct 127 as romantic tropes [f]

jaehyun marry me, mr. jeong [f] [s] all for him [s] haechan virgin's debut [s] preview virgin's debut [s] full version brat [s] my little toy [s]

mark the years that I loved you [f] [a]

doyoung miss erotica [s]

taeyong what you want [s] [f]

ㅤㅤׂ ㅤ ㅤˑㅤ ㅤ۟ ㅤ₊ ☆　┈ @nct dream

jaemin favorite toy [s] the demon queen [s] baby on board [f] jeno no better than this [s]

ㅤㅤ࣭ ㅤㅤׂ ㅤ ㅤˑㅤ ㅤ۟ ㅤ₊ ☆　┈ @wayv

yangyang hentai [s]

ㅤ࣭ ㅤㅤׂ ㅤ ㅤˑㅤ ㅤ۟ ㅤ₊ ☆　┈ @enhypen

jungwon the one he waited for [s]

i don’t really talk about my personal life here, it feels kinda weird and uncomfortable tbh, but i still wanted to share a bit of what’s been going on these past months… maybe i’ll delete this later lol.

last time i updated here was back in august and omg so much happened. nothing “serious serious” but it still hit way too hard on my emotional stability.

first thing was… i ended things with my boyfriend of two years. the breakup was kinda inevitable and even then, writing helped me not fall apart. it was like my safe place. honestly, the relationship had no future. we’re both adults and our plans for life were completely different. neither of us could really compromise without ending up miserable. all those nights i stayed up writing kinda softened the blow, so when it finally ended it didn’t hurt as bad… and yeah, that’s how it went.

and when i posted my last fics, the breakup was still super fresh. but then the real chaos hit. memories and old moments kept popping up, and yeah, he was my first for a lot of things… while for him i was just “someone else” in his life, which i always struggled with. still, i’ve got pride so i didn’t beg or try to get him back.

but i was anxious all the time. i couldn’t write. couldn’t even open tumblr. my mind just went blank and i felt even worse for not being able to keep up with my projects. i honestly had zero energy to write.

then… i met someone. even tho i knew i wasn’t ready for anything. he opened up to me like i was some kind of safe space, but it turned out to be the opposite. now i can laugh but back then it was so… sad. this dude literally had a double life. he had me blocked on his personal ig and only followed me on his work account. super creepy. and i made the mistake of posting a pic of us because he told me we were “talking seriously” and we’d “have something in the future”. after i posted it he just dropped me in the coldest way possible. i felt desperate. i don’t know if it was everything piling up or me not being stable enough to offer anything to anyone… believing his words too fast… ignoring all the red flags… the way he was clearly hiding from something or someone… and then like three days ago i found out he has a girlfriend. it honestly destroyed me. i’ve never felt something like that. i felt powerless because i know he lied to both of us.

but anyway, that’s the short version of everything that’s been going on. my birthday’s in 9 days and i hope i can get myself together soon. during the holidays i wanna try writing again.

lunch was quieter than usual, or maybe it just felt that way because your thoughts were too loud. your legs were moving, but your mind was elsewhere, tangled in everything that had happened that week, heeseung’s words echoing again and again in your head, “i’ll probably make you cry one day.” they weren’t kind. they weren’t romantic. they weren’t the type of things a girl wanted to hear from her boyfriend. and yet… here you were, being led to the cafeteria again by the same boy who said them.

he waited for you outside your classroom like he always did now, leaning casually against the wall, dark eyes dragging slowly from your face to your friends. yoojung didn’t need to be told. she nudged hyojung and sighed, stepping aside when heeseung approached.

“she’s having lunch with her boyfriend today,” he said flatly, like it was routine. not up for debate.

you could feel your stomach coil the moment you sat down in front of him. the table between you felt too small, the distance too close. you barely touched your food. your spoon scraped the tray twice before you gave up entirely. you weren’t even aware you’d already finished your grilled potatoes until a soft clink made you glance up.

heeseung had moved his tray forward. he’d taken the rest of his grilled potatoes and dropped them silently onto yours.

your eyes met for a second. there was no teasing grin, no smug smirk just a calm, unreadable expression on his face as he went back to picking at his rice like nothing happened.

“you should eat more” he said.

just that. like it was the most obvious thing in the world. like the idea of sharing his food with you wasn’t a big deal. but it was. it was. your chest tightened at the gesture, unsure if it was kindness or something else. why did someone like him even notice something so small?

you stared at the potatoes, at his chopsticks, then at him, his sharp profile, his slightly messy hair, the way he wore his shirt loose and casual like nothing mattered. everything about him screamed contradiction.

and just as you were processing it, heeseung reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. without even looking up, he extended it to you across the table.

“we’ve been dating this whole time,” he muttered. “but i don’t even have your number. kind of weird, isn’t it?”

your lips parted slightly, surprised. you hadn’t even noticed that until now. among all the chaos, the pulling and pushing, the awkward silences and stolen glances, you never exchanged numbers. hesitantly, you took his phone and opened the contacts.

you typed your number slowly, thumbs trembling slightly under his gaze. you hesitated before saving it, because that name at the top?

girlfriend ❤️

you blinked. then frowned a little. sure, he’d been calling you that. sure, he technically was your boyfriend now. but it still felt... strange. like the word didn’t belong to you yet. like it hadn’t been earned.

so, without thinking too deeply, you backspaced the label and typed in simply:

heeseung

a second later, your own phone buzzed in your pocket. you pulled it out and saw an unfamiliar number on your screen, paired with a message that read:

heeseung: save my number

you looked up just as he took a long sip of his drink. there was a hint of a smirk on his lips, like he was trying to act cool but couldn’t help being a little proud of himself.

“that was me,” he confirmed. “now add me back. and be ready for saturday.”

“saturday?” you echoed.

he nodded, poking around his food like it was nothing.

“we’re going on a date,” he said. “first one.”

your fingers froze on the screen.

a date?

he said it so casually, like it was nothing special, like it was just something boyfriends and girlfriends did. but your heart was pounding all over again. your face flushed, hands nervously clutching your phone under the table. you’d never had a boyfriend before. never had a first date. and now, your first date was going to be with lee heeseung.

the boy with the sharp tongue and softer gestures. the boy who confused you, cornered you, and yet… kept finding ways to get closer.

you bit your bottom lip, trying not to smile. trying not to let him see how nervous the thought made you.

but somehow, you knew he already knew.

the rest of lunch passed quietly, but not in a bad way. heeseung didn’t talk much, just ate steadily, occasionally glancing up to see if you were still chewing or just staring blankly at your tray again. every so often, he would nudge something closer to you, an extra bite, his drink, even an unopened dessert cup like he was silently reminding you he was paying attention, in his own way. and it wasn’t just the food. it was how he leaned forward slightly when you spoke, how he didn’t check his phone once, how his knee brushed against yours under the table and didn’t move away.

still, your thoughts were tangled. your chest ached with confusion. everything felt surreal. the guy you’d written a secret love letter for hadn’t even read it. and the guy you never meant to give it to was now planning your first date. it wasn’t a bad dream… but it didn’t quite feel like a fairytale either.

when you got back to class, your friends noticed. they always noticed.

the atmosphere between you three had shifted. yoojung and hyojung were unusually quiet, giving each other looks that said “should we ask?” and “is she going to tell us anything?” you pretended not to notice, packing your things with trembling fingers as the final bell rang. and just as you stood up, yoojung stepped into your path.

“will he walk you home again?” she asked, crossing her arms tightly.

you hesitated for a second. then nodded slowly.

“yeah… he will wait outside.”

hyojung let out a sigh, deep and tight in her chest.

“you know, people are starting to talk more than before,” she said, glancing sideways like she didn’t want to admit it. “they think you’re… serious about him.”

you flinched. your eyes dropped to your shoes, and your hands tightened around your books.

“i didn’t mean for it to get serious,” you whispered.

“but it is,” yoojung cut in, frustration lacing her tone. “he’s not like other guys, y/n. you saw what chaeyeon and mina said. and yet… you’re letting him drag you through the school like a prize.”

her words stung more than you expected.

“he’s not like that,” you said, your voice softer. “...not all the time.”

they looked at you like you were making a mistake.

and maybe you were.

when the three of you stepped outside, the sun had dipped a little lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the pavement. you should’ve expected it, but still, your heart dropped the moment you saw heeseung standing near the school gate, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the entrance.

he was waiting.

again.

yoojung groaned under her breath, and hyojung squeezed your hand before stepping aside, giving you space. your stomach twisted as you walked toward him, hesitant steps echoing across the concrete.

“you’re late,” he said bluntly.

“i was with my friends,” you mumbled.

“and i’m your boyfriend,” he reminded you. “i come first now.”

the possessiveness in his voice made your chest tighten, not out of fear, though it was there, but out of the undeniable pressure of being someone’s person. you didn’t know how to carry that weight yet.

he didn’t wait for your response. he just reached for your wrist, wrapped his fingers around it gently but firmly, and began to walk. you almost stumbled trying to keep up, and part of you wanted to pull away, but you didn’t. not because you liked it… but because you didn’t know what would happen if you resisted again.

and then… you passed them.

his friends.

jungwon, jongseong and... jaeyun.

they were leaning against the fence, laughing about something stupid, a half-crushed energy drink at their feet. the moment they saw the two of you, they straightened. the air shifted. like a pack sensing tension.

the silent agreement you two had made not long ago, buried and forgotten in the chaos of your new relationship. you thought it wouldn’t matter anymore. that maybe it had been erased from both your memories.

but clearly, it hadn’t.

heeseung didn’t notice at first. but the moment he saw your expression shift, your shoulders tense, your eyes dart back to jaeyun, he turned his head slowly.

he saw it. the silence. the way jaeyun didn’t say a word. the way you looked shaken.

his eyes narrowed, jaw flexing ever so slightly. he didn’t speak. not yet. but you knew he would. sooner or later. he wasn’t the type to forget something like that.

and you… you weren’t sure how long you could keep the silence intact.

the sun had long dipped behind the buildings, casting a dusky glow over the edge of the city as neon lights flickered to life around them. the group stood outside a dimly lit convenience store, the sharp scent of gasoline and fried food floating faintly in the summer air. bags of chips rustled in someone’s grip, the glass door swinging open and shut with every passing customer.

jaeyun leaned against the wall, arms crossed, trying to stay casual. jungwon was mid-laugh over something jongseong had said, something that wasn’t really funny, but still loud enough to fill the air with distraction.

and then there was heeseung.

he hadn’t said much since they left school. hadn’t smiled. hadn’t even really looked at the others. he was sitting on a low wall outside the shop, one leg propped up, his hands twitching with the same kind of restlessness he always had before a fight. except this time, it wasn’t fists that were about to fly, it was words. and maybe, just maybe, something worse.

he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, jaw clenched, and broke the silence with a voice rougher than usual.

“give me one.”

jaeyun looked up.

“huh?”

“a cigarette.” heeseung didn’t meet his eyes.

“i thought you no longer smoked”

“i do now.” heeseung finally looked at him then eyes dark and sharp, like two blades glinting under a low light. “so hand it over.”

jaeyun fumbled for his pack, handed him one without a word, and lit it for him. the moment the flame touched the cigarette, heeseung took a long, slow drag, the tip glowing like a warning light. smoke curled between his lips as he exhaled, the tension thickening in the space between them.

jungwon and jongseong were halfway through the shop door when heeseung spoke again, voice low.

“you’ve been staring at her.”

jaeyun froze.

the words weren’t loud. but they were heavy. cold. each one dropped like a stone in still water, and the ripples were immediate.

heeseung turned his head slowly, eyes locking onto jaeyun’s like a predator catching movement in the dark.

“don’t fucking lie to me. you think i don’t notice?”

jaeyun opened his mouth, then shut it again. his throat moved as he swallowed hard.

“i don’t-...”

“you look at her like she’s yours.” heeseung’s tone didn’t rise. it didn’t need to. the calmness was worse. more dangerous. “so tell me, how do you know her?”

jaeyun shifted uncomfortably, back pressing tighter against the wall.

“it’s nothing... really.”

“‘nothing’ doesn’t make your whole body stiff when she walks by.” heeseung leaned in, cigarette between his fingers, still burning slowly. “‘nothing’ doesn’t make you freeze like a goddamn deer every time her eyes meet yours.”

he paused, his voice dipping lower.

“so i’ll ask one more time. where do you know her from?”

jaeyun looked away. heeseung followed his gaze with a tilt of his head, studying him like he was trying to crack open his skull and read his thoughts directly. when he didn’t get an answer, his expression shifted.

he stood up slowly, towering slightly over jaeyun now, even if they were the same height. he brought the cigarette to his lips again, but he wasn’t enjoying it, it was a leash. a way to keep himself from breaking something.

“you think i’m stupid?” he asked, voice like smoke and ash. “you think i haven’t seen that look before? i’ve had guys try to go behind my back for less. don’t make me turn this into something it doesn’t need to be.”

jaeyun’s hands curled into fists at his sides, but it wasn’t in defiance. it was frustration. guilt. and shame.

because heeseung was right.

he’d been reckless with his eyes. too obvious with his silences. and now he was cornered — not just by the boy in front of him, but by a secret he didn’t want the others to know.

the truth wasn’t about you, not completely. it was about chaeyoung. about the stupid way he still wanted her to look at him like more than just a friend. about how he thought picking a fight with the guy she was talking to would make her jealous. it didn’t. all it did was get him suspended for two weeks and humiliated in front of the school.

and now, you were the key to blowing it all open. because if heeseung found out what you knew — even just that small, fragile detail of their history — it would crush what little image jaeyun had left.

before he could answer, the convenience store door flew open again. jongseong stepped out first, snacks in one hand, cigars in the other. jungwon followed, cracking open a soda and tossing it toward jaeyun without a word.

heeseung didn’t move.

didn’t smile.

didn’t even blink.

he just inhaled the last of his cigarette, eyes still burning into jaeyun’s face like he was engraving the suspicion directly onto his skin.

as he exhaled, he flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his heel.

“we’ll finish this later,” he muttered under his breath, barely audible over the crunch of chips and soda fizz.

jaeyun knew exactly what that meant.

the week crawled forward in a strange haze. ever since that lunch at school, heeseung hadn’t stopped texting you. every day. every hour. it was never anything particularly deep: “what are you doing,” “what class are you in now,” “don’t forget to eat,” followed by a selfie of him in some awkward angle or a blurry picture of the vending machine he was standing in front of, but it still made your phone light up more than it ever had before.

at first it was overwhelming, your fingers clumsy with replies, rereading everything five times before hitting send. you weren’t used to this, to having someone so persistent, so present. you’d never kept a daily conversation with anyone before, not even your best friends. and yet, somehow, heeseung made it feel… expected. like it was the most normal thing in the world that he should know where you were and what you were doing at any given time.

it made you nervous.

and now, standing in front of your bedroom mirror, those nerves had twisted themselves into something unbearable. you were chewing the inside of your cheek, staring at your reflection, hating every outfit you tried on, every possible version of yourself you could present. he’d said he’d be there around 3pm. you’d agreed. nodded through the phone and sent back a small, shaky thumbs-up emoji like an idiot. and now here you were, two hours later, ten tops and three dresses scattered across your bed and no idea what the hell you were doing.

eventually, your eyes landed on the one piece you hadn’t dared try on yet. the soft, yellow floral dress your mom had bought you during a sale. it was long, flowing, with delicate straps and tiny embroidered daisies that danced across the fabric like sunlight. you’d always thought it made you look too soft, too much like a kid, but something inside you whispered wear it anyway. and so you did.

your heart pounded so loudly in your chest that you barely heard the buzz of your phone when the message came in.

heeseung: i’m outside

simple, just like that.

you took one last breath, deep... desperate... and walked to the front door, clutching your purse like a lifeline. when you stepped outside, the sunlight nearly blinded you, but not enough to miss the figure leaning casually against a black motorbike parked at the curb.

and there he was.

lee heeseung, without the school uniform for the first time.

and somehow, he looked even more dangerous.

he was wearing a black short-sleeved shirt, snug against his chest and loose around the sleeves, showing the veins of his arms and the lines of his collarbone. his jeans were dark, slightly distressed, and sat low on his hips in a way that made your stomach flutter. he wore rings, two on his right hand, one on his left, and a chain necklace that glinted when the sun hit it. his hair messier than usual, pushed back slightly like he’d run his hands through it before arriving. and his eyes… they were already on you.

his gaze didn’t waver.

heeseung looked you up and down, slowly, like he was trying to memorize every inch of you. when his eyes returned to your face, his expression had changed. the usual smirk had softened into something unreadable somewhere between surprise and something warmer. something you weren’t ready to name.

“yellow, huh...” his voice was low, almost amused. “you look... soft.”

you blinked, unsure whether that was a compliment or not. heeseung pushed off the bike, now standing right in front of you, and added, quieter this time:

“it suits you.” your face burned instantly. you mumbled a small thank you, eyes falling to the pavement.

he watched you for a second longer before gesturing to the bike behind him.

“don’t worry, we’re not taking that,” he said. “you don’t look ready for your first near-death experience yet.”

you managed a small laugh, still too nervous to speak properly, and followed him to the sidewalk where a car was now parked. you hadn’t even noticed it pull up. he walked over to open the door for you and waited until you were inside before closing it and getting in himself.

once inside the car, you glanced around the interior with subtle curiosity, your fingers absentmindedly brushing the seatbelt as you took in the surprisingly clean dashboard, the faint scent of cologne and old leather, and the way the sunlight filtered through the windows, making everything feel warm and almost unreal. your eyes trailed across the small charms hanging from the rearview mirror, some kind of faded dice and a metal tag with initials etched into it. without thinking much, you turned your head toward him and asked:

"whose car is this?" heeseung kept his eyes on the road, one hand gripping the wheel while the other rested lazily on the gear shift. he didn’t answer immediately. the silence stretched just enough to make you wonder if you’d overstepped, but then he replied, voice cool and casual:

"my dad’s." you blinked. that made sense. he didn’t exactly scream full-time job with benefits.

"wait, so… do you even have the age to drive this?" he turned his head just a little, just enough to throw you a sly look, eyes half-lidded, lips curling at the edge with amusement.

"are you accusing me of driving illegally?" you couldn’t help it, you laughed. really laughed. the sound surprising even yourself, and it made his smile grow a little, just barely.

"no! no, I mean-... well, we barely just turned the legal age, and this car’s kinda... nice," you said, brushing your hair behind your ear, flustered.

at the next red light, without saying a word, heeseung reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his wallet. he flipped it open and slid something across the console toward you. it was his driver’s license.

you held it with both hands, your eyes scanning the little rectangle like it was a sacred document. you tried not to stare too hard, but failed miserably. he looked so... normal in the picture. no scowl, no sharp smirk, no threatening glint in his eyes. instead, his expression was calm, almost gentle. his nose perfectly angled, his pink lips relaxed, slightly parted like he wasn’t even trying, just existing and somehow still managing to look annoyingly beautiful. your heart skipped a beat. you caught yourself staring too long and quickly handed it back, cheeks burning.

heeseung only hummed, placing the license back in his wallet with a smug flick.

when he pulled up to the sidewalk, you expected maybe a small café or a random walk, but instead, the neon lights of a two-story arcade blinked at you in bright, playful colors, casting flashes of red and blue against the shiny surface of the car. he got out and came around to open the door for you, and without saying much else, led the way inside.

it was loud and chaotic. game noises, laughter, the clink of coins and the hum of machines filled the space, and immediately, you were tugged into a whirlwind of digital battles, skee-ball throws, and racing games. heeseung turned out to be annoyingly good at everything, pinpoint accuracy with basketball shots, absurd reflexes on the dance machine, and that same smirk plastered on his face every time he won. which was every time.

“you’re letting me win on purpose!” you pouted after he beat you at air hockey.

“who, me?” he feigned innocence, twirling the mallet in his hand. “never.”

he absolutely was. you could tell by the way he hesitated at the last second, just enough for your puck to make a dramatic comeback, and how he always celebrated your tiny wins like they were massive victories. it made your stomach feel weird. in a good way.

the two of you eventually ended up near a claw machine filled with keychain-sized plushies. tiny animals with huge round eyes, dangling from loops of string inside the glass box like trophies waiting to be won. heeseung stopped walking and pointed toward it.

"you like this stuff, right?"

"what makes you say that?" you raised an eyebrow. 

“your backpack’s basically a zoo.”

you stared at the machine, lips twitching. "and you think you can win one of these?"

“please,” he scoffed. “i can win all of them.”

he was dead wrong for the first four tries.

you watched as he fed coin after coin into the machine, swearing under his breath every time the claw slipped or missed. you told him to give up at least twice, but he waved you off like a man on a mission. his brows were furrowed, his jaw clenched in concentration, and at some point, you realized you were smiling—actually smiling—watching him get frustrated over pastel animals in a plastic case.

"one more..." he muttered, as if the machine could hear him.

and somehow, this time… he did it. not only one, but two small plushies dropped into the bin at once. a tiny strawberry cow and a sleepy blue bunny. heeseung grinned triumphantly and handed them to you like a knight returning from battle.

“told you.” you looked down at the plushies in your hands, eyes wide, heart fluttering. they were so soft, so cute, almost ridiculously adorable. you held them up to your chest and gave him a smile that made his breath catch.

"thank you..." you whispered, voice soft and genuine.

“you can add them to the collection.” he muttered, recovering. 

you hesitated for a moment before holding one of the plushies back toward him.

"then you should have one too," you said. "that way we both have a memory from today."

he blinked. your fingers were outstretched, offering him the blue bunny.

his first instinct was to scoff, to roll his eyes and say what the hell am i supposed to do with this?, but the words died on his tongue. instead, something warm curled up in his chest. his hand closed around the bunny slowly, carefully, like it might break if he held it wrong.

and for a fleeting second, he wished he had his backpack right there, just to clip it on. something about having a part of this moment with him… felt right.

he stared at the bunny. then at you.

and for the first time since you started this strange, accidental relationship, lee heeseung didn’t feel like a bad boy playing pretend, he felt real.

the sun was beginning to dip, casting a soft golden hue over the pavement as you walked side by side in silence, your footsteps echoing in a lazy rhythm along the quiet path near the park. the arcade noise had faded into the background, replaced by the distant chirp of birds and the occasional breeze rustling through tree branches. you held the tiny strawberry cow plush close to your chest, fingers curling protectively around it every now and then as if it were a fragile treasure. your other hand swung gently by your side, brushing the edge of your dress with each step. heeseung walked next to you with his hands tucked deep into his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched forward, his gaze fixed ahead, but not really looking at anything.

he hadn’t said much in the last few minutes.

earlier he’d made fun of your air hockey skills, boasted about his claw machine talents, and even flashed a rare smile when he caught you laughing too hard. but now, something had shifted. it was subtle, but it sat heavy in the air between you. maybe it was the way his jaw tightened just a bit, or how his eyes flickered toward you only to quickly turn away again. you didn’t notice right away, too caught up in the warmth of the day and the sweet high of your first real date, but eventually, you slowed your steps and turned your head.

he looked distracted. distant. like he was trying to solve a problem in his head but didn’t know where to start.

"heeseung?" he blinked as your voice broke the silence, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. your gaze met his, and for a brief second, he looked almost... conflicted. his lips parted, but he didn’t speak immediately.

instead, he took in the way you clutched the plushie to your chest, how your brows furrowed slightly in confusion, the soft expression on your face that always looked so defenseless and unaware.

finally, he exhaled.

"do you know jaeyun from somewhere else?" your steps halted mid-stride.

you stared at him, wide-eyed, heart catching in your throat at the sudden question. you opened your mouth, barely managing to shape a response, but just as the words began to form, a voice rang out in the distance, loud, casual, and horribly mistimed.

"yo, heeseung!" heeseung’s head snapped toward the source of the voice, his shoulders tensing as three familiar figures approached from the opposite sidewalk. jongseong was waving enthusiastically, flanked by jungwon on his left and jaeyun on his right, each of them accompanied by a girl, three stunning girls, dressed prettily, laughing about something you couldn’t hear, their glossy hair bouncing as they walked.

your stomach flipped.

jaeyun looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. his steps faltered the moment he locked eyes with you. you felt the exact same discomfort wash over your skin, crawling like static up your neck. instinctively, you reached up and scratched the back of your neck, your gaze flickering toward the ground, the plushie in your arms becoming your temporary shield.

heeseung’s eyes narrowed instantly.

"you guys done?" he called out dryly, no warmth in his voice.

jongseong didn’t seem to mind the cold reception. he lifted both hands like he was surrendering, flashing his usual cheeky grin.

"don’t mind us, we were just passing by. didn’t expect to see you two lovebirds in the wild."

"have fun, yeah?" jungwon gave a sly wink in your direction, his hands tucked into the pockets of his oversized hoodie.

"jaeyun," jongseong added, nudging his friend, "say something to the couple of the hour, man."

jaeyun didn’t say anything. he barely managed a tight smile before looking away again, eyes lingering for a split second too long on the plushie in your arms.

that was the last straw for heeseung.

"can you guys go already?" his voice cut through the awkwardness like a knife, sharper now, laced with irritation that made you flinch. "we’re in the middle of a date, and you’re ruining it."

there was a beat of silence.

jongseong gave a low whistle and took a step back.

"o-okay... okay, chill man. we’re going." he clapped jaeyun on the shoulder before turning to walk away. "good luck, romeo."

jungwon followed, flashing one last grin. jaeyun hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something, but one glance from heeseung had him retreating with the others, melting into the crowd down the street.

you exhaled slowly, finally able to breathe again. you hadn’t even realized how tense your shoulders were until they started to ache.

heeseung didn’t move at first. his hands were still in his pockets, but you could see the way his jaw ticked, the way his brows knitted together in a tight frown. when he finally turned to you again, you couldn’t read the look on his face.

"sorry" he muttered, "they’re annoying."

you nodded weakly, still hugging the plushie close, unsure whether to ask him about jaeyun again or pretend it never happened.

your fingers fumbled with your books as you stood in front of your locker, attempting to organize them by subject but failing miserably. your head wasn’t in it. not even a little. instead, it was swimming in the memory of the weekend, your first official date with heeseung, the soft surprise of it, his laugh when he beat you at every arcade game, the way his eyes lit up when you gave him one of your plush keychains as a keepsake. since then, his texts had barely stopped. not in a clingy way, more like… persistent. almost comforting, except for the weight that still pressed on your chest from the things he hadn’t said about jaeyun, about what he felt. you hadn’t brought it up again either. maybe you didn’t want the answer.

your fingers lingered on your locker door, eyes unfocused, brain a thousand miles away. that was when it happened, again.

a soft thud.

you turned too quickly and crashed into someone. the books in your hands tumbled to the floor in a messy heap, and you stumbled back a little, your shoulder throbbing slightly from the impact.

“ah-...” you gasped, startled.

and then you froze.

because standing in front of you, looking just as surprised but unmistakably kind, was park sunghoon.

again.

you both just stared for a second, stunned by the timing, the collision, the absurd sense of déjà vu.

he offered a soft laugh under his breath, the corners of his lips curling upward in that way that made your stomach twist.

“this is like the third time,” he said, bending down to help you gather your books. “i swear we’re always running into each other.”

your heart was hammering in your chest now. you lowered yourself with him to pick up the last textbook, your fingers brushing briefly when you both reached for it.

he looked up at you then, really looked at you and you forgot how to breathe. the hallway noise faded behind you. sunghoon had always been handsome, but it was moments like this, the sincerity in his gaze, the softness in his voice, that completely disarmed you.

“be careful next time!” he added, his voice still light. “you’re gonna make me start thinking you do this on purpose.”

“i-i don’t...” you flushed, eyes wide and face heating like a furnace.

he smiled wider. “i know.”

he handed you the last book and stood up straight. and then, just like that, he was gone, walking down the hall like the moment hadn’t just derailed your entire emotional balance.

you stood there with your books hugged to your chest, a little breathless, your heart pinging painfully behind your ribs. it wasn’t fair. that the way he smiled could undo you so easily. that just the sound of his voice could make you forget about every complicated thing in your life, heeseung, for example.

what if he had read the letter?

the question struck you again as you turned toward the classroom. what if you hadn’t made that mistake? what if you’d never put it in the wrong locker?

you barely heard anything during class. the teacher might as well have been speaking a foreign language. your eyes were on the board, but your mind was replaying that tiny exchange with Sunghoon on a loop. your friends could tell.

“you good?” hyojung asked, leaning in close. “you’ve been smiling to yourself like a total weirdo.”

“is this about that boy again?” yoojung chimed in. “please don’t tell me heeseung kissed you again.”

you blinked, snapped out of your daze. “no! it’s not that. it’s… nothing...”

“it’s never nothing,” hyojung said. “and besides, we’re almost at lunch. i bet you five bucks heeseung’s already outside.”

you glanced toward the clock and the second the bell rang, your classroom door slid open.

there he was.

heeseung, leaning lazily on the frame, eyes immediately locking with yours. he didn’t say anything to anyone else, just waited. and your stomach twisted.

heesung had sat across from you at breakfast like usual, complaining about the amount of homework the math teacher dumped on them and grumbling about how school should start at noon. he'd made you laugh, barely. and then, halfway through chewing on a spoonful of rice, he abruptly put down his chopsticks and stood up with a sharp breath through his nose.

“i’ll be back. bathroom. i’m seriously about to explode.”

you just blinked, letting out a confused hum as he practically sprinted toward the hallway. typical. you sighed, quietly sipping your strawberry milk and gently moving his tray aside. he didn’t eat much of his food, so you figured you’d at least carry it for him before some first year decided to take his seat. you gathered your own tray and his, carefully balancing both in your hands as you headed toward the return line to get fresh servings.

and that’s when it happened.

a solid bump, a flash of black hair, and then, warmth.

the thick, messy texture of soup soaking through your cardigan. sticky sauce clinging to your skirt. your eyes widened in slow horror as the plates clattered to the floor, bits of rice and meat scattered everywhere like some kind of tragic battlefield.

“oh my god-... i’m so sorry!” a voice stammered in front of you, gentle and sincerely apologetic.

you looked up to meet the wide, panicked eyes of park sunghoon, again.

your heart nearly stopped.

he held his hands out uselessly, then scrambled to grab napkins from his pocket, crouching in front of you.

“wait-wait, let me help-”

you froze, heart hammering, unsure if it was from the mess or the boy currently kneeling in front of you, reaching out like he was about to dab at your skirt, when a hand yanked him back so violently, he almost hit the wall.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

you didn’t have to turn around to know.

heeseung.

his eyes were darker than you’d ever seen. not the usual playful gleam, not the mocking grin or smug smirk. this was cold fury. his grip on sunghoon’s shirt was tight, white-knuckled, and his body was already tensed like he was about to swing.

“are you fucking stupid?” he growled. “you spill shit on her and then try to get handsy? what, are you desperate?”

“heeseung, stop-!” you rushed forward, placing your hand on his arm.

sunghoon’s face contorted into a glare, yanking his shirt free from heeseung’s grip. “it was an accident! you asshole!”

“don’t fucking talk to me.” heeseung’s voice was low, dangerous. “don’t look at her. don’t touch her.”

you shoved yourself between them. “heeseung, please- he didn’t mean to. you’re overreacting-”

“move.” his voice cracked like thunder.

you shook your head. “no...”

he stared at you for half a second, but it was enough to spark something even darker behind his eyes. without warning, he shoved past you and lunged again, landing a solid punch across sunghoon’s cheekbone. the sound of it made your stomach twist.

sunghoon stumbled back, holding his face, then growled and retaliated, his fist crashing into heeseung’s nose with a sickening crunch. blood sprayed instantly. heeseung didn’t flinch. he just snarled and raised his fists again, ready to fight until someone’s bones cracked.

but it didn’t get that far.

the screams from nearby students echoed through the lunch room. within seconds, a teacher and hall monitor were prying them apart, holding them back as they cursed at each other through gritted teeth.

“you’re dead, park.”

“get a grip, psycho!” you stood frozen, trembling, watching the scene fall apart around you. guilt sat heavy on your chest, like you’d caused it just by being there.

you didn’t speak again, not when heeseung was dragged toward the academic coordinator’s office, his nose bloodied, still trying to break free, not even when sunghoon was helped up and escorted toward the nurse’s office with a swollen eye and a bruised jaw. your hands were shaking as you followed in silence.

after they were treated, heeseung with an ice pack pressed to his bleeding nose, sunghoon with a cold compress over his purple eye, only silence hung in the air between everyone involved. heeseung didn’t look at you. he didn’t speak.

and you didn’t follow him this time.

you were mad. furious.

not just at what he’d done.

but because he hadn’t even tried to explain himself, and then he remembered.

the letter.

the one you claimed wasn’t for him, the one you said was meant for someone else... it was for him, park sunghoon.

suddenly, it wasn’t just embarrassment or anger. it was something deeper. it was something that squeezed at his chest and made his breath catch for just a second. his jaw clenched, his brows furrowed, but he didn’t say anything.

he couldn’t.

because in that moment, the jealous rage he was used to didn’t show up the way it normally did. no fists. no yelling. just... that weird, bitter pit in his stomach that made everything go quiet inside his head.

you hadn’t even looked at him.

and for the first time, he didn’t know what to do.

you pushed the door open quietly, stepping into the small, fluorescent-lit detention room with slow, hesitant feet. it smelled faintly like whiteboard markers and disinfectant, and there, sitting alone at the second row of desks, was sunghoon, head bowed slightly, a cold pack pressed over his right eye. the swelling had already begun to spread across his cheekbone, blooming into a purplish shadow beneath his skin. his hoodie was bunched up around his elbows, and when he looked up and saw you, he blinked in surprised confusion.

“you’re not supposed to be here...” he said, voice soft and unsure, but not unkind.

you froze just inside the door, unsure whether to step forward or leave. his presence was... gentle. so different from the storm you’d just escaped. you lowered your head for a second, then stepped toward him anyway, the words sitting heavy on your tongue.

“i know...” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “but i just wanted to see if you were okay.”

sunghoon set the cold pack aside, eyes studying you for a moment. his lip was split, a thin trail of dried blood at the corner. and yet, even with the bruise and the bandages, there was something boyish and kind in his expression, like he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable despite everything.

“i just… wanted to say sorry,” you said instead, even if it wasn’t what you really meant. “for what happened. for him. he’s-he's not always like that...”

sunghoon tilted his head, folding his arms loosely across the desk. there was no judgment in his gaze, but his voice held a quiet edge.

“you don’t have to apologize. it wasn’t your fault. if anything, i’m the one who should be sorry. i didn’t see you coming with the trays. i made a mess of your uniform.”

he reached down beside his chair, then pulled out a neatly folded hoodie from his bag.

“here,” he said, holding it toward you, “you can wear this home.”

you looked down at it, at the way his hands hesitated slightly offering something so small but somehow weighted with meaning. your fingers curled tighter around your skirt.

“thank you, but… i’m fine.”

you weren’t. not really. your whole body still buzzed from the aftermath of the fight. your chest ached with things you didn’t say like i used to like you, i wrote that letter for you, i’m sorry you were the one hurt when none of this was your fault.

but the words stayed locked in your throat. he studied you a little longer, then gave another quiet smile, more thoughtful than before.

“you’ve always liked him?”

your eyes widened. “w-what?”

“heeseung,” he said, as if the name didn’t taste bitter on his tongue. “he acts like you’re the only thing that matters to him. i just figured… you liked someone quieter.”

your heart twisted. god, why did he have to say that? why did he have to be so kind now, when it didn’t change anything?

you parted your lips, but nothing came out.

and before you could find a way to say anything, the door opened again, and a hall monitor stepped inside, clearing his throat.

you panicked.

“i-i have to go.” you turned and hurried out, your steps echoing down the empty hallway as your heartbeat pounded in your ears.

heeseung kicked the office door shut behind him, his shoulder tense, his jaw locked so tight it hurt. his nose still throbbed faintly from the impact, but it wasn’t the pain that lingered, it was the suspension. an entire fucking week. he wouldn’t see you in class, wouldn’t get to sit by your side during lunch, wouldn’t get to watch the way you pouted when you were annoyed or held your carton of strawberry milk with both hands like it was the most precious thing in the world. and it was all because he’d lost control. again.

he shoved his hands into his pockets as he stepped into the hallway, head down, trying to breathe through the heat pooling in his chest. but the voice of jungwon from earlier kept looping through his mind low, teasing, but almost too on the nose to ignore.

“wow hyung… you’re really interested in everything that has to do with her.”

his steps slowed as the memory crashed into him.

they’d skipped physics again, like always, ducking behind the gym where the walls were lined with graffiti and cigarette burns on the concrete floor. jaeyun was already lighting one, jongseong had some kind of sour candy shoved in his cheek, and jungwon had sprawled out on the ground with his back against the wall.

“so,” jongseong said, eyes glinting, “heard you took that girl to the shops last saturday. what was that about?”

heeseung rolled his eyes, stealing one of his candies and popping it into his mouth.

“what do you mean, what was that about? we were hungry. we ate.”

“ate each other?” jaeyun grinned.

“fuck off.”

jongseong chuckled, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “no, seriously. you’ve been acting different.”

jungwon added, “not saying she’s not cute or anything, she’s got a sort of charm to her... but she’s definitely not your usual type.”

heeseung furrowed his brows, scoffing.

“what are you talking about?” he licked his thumb, then casually began ticking things off with each finger. “y/n’s really cute, she smells nice, she’s soft and delicate, when she gets shy, she makes this dumb face like she wants to hide behind her own hands, and when she’s mad, the tip of her nose gets red like a rabbit. plus… it’s fun to tease her. she reacts to everything.” his voice had drifted without him realizing it, turning quieter, almost fond. when he looked up, his friends were staring at him like he’d grown two heads.

jungwon blinked. “uh… wow.”

jaeyun let out a long whistle.

“hyung,” jungwon said again, sitting up now, “you’re actually into her. like, not just messing around. you… like her.”

heeseung paused. the candy sat still on his tongue, suddenly tasteless.

he looked toward the sky, the clouds moving slowly, lazily above the gym roof.

“yeah...” he muttered, shrugging. “and what if i do?”

jongseong blinked, face unreadable. “it’s just… the last time you talked about a girl like that was, like... forget it”

heeseung waved him off.

“it’s too much to think about. i don’t want to do that right now.”

he didn’t say it, but his heart had already moved ahead of him.

now, back in the present, the halls were mostly empty. he passed a group of students whispering about the fight, pretending not to hear. everyone had seen it. everyone had seen you stand in front of sunghoon. not him.

and that part? that part tore something open in his chest.

because he could take a punch. he could take ten. he could even handle suspension. but what he couldn’t take… was the look on your face when you defended someone else.

like he was the villain. like he hadn’t just acted on impulse because he was scare, scared of losing you, scared of watching sunghoon smile at you like he could give you something heeseung never could.

his fingers curled tighter in his pockets.

it had been building up for days, that feeling... raw and unfamiliar and infuriating. he didn’t know how to name it, only that it made his chest tight and his thoughts spiral when you smiled at anyone that wasn’t him.

🎧 still monster by enhypen playing in the background...

the school grounds were unusually quiet by the time you stepped outside. the sun hung low in the sky, its golden rays streaking the pavement with long shadows. students were already gone for the day, the last wave of noise fading into the distance. but you waited. you knew he’d be here. and sure enough, leaning against the outer wall near the main gate, a cigarette unlit between his fingers and his jaw clenched so tight it could snap, there he was.

lee heeseung.

you approached slowly, your backpack heavy over your shoulder, your throat dry from all the things you’d rehearsed in your head but weren’t sure how to say. he didn’t look at you right away. not until you were close enough that your shadow fell over his shoes.

“the principal gave me the boot. week-long vacation.” heeseung’s mouth twitched.

“so that’s it?” you asked, your voice low but laced with heat. “you’re just gonna throw punches and get suspended and not say anything? just disappear?”

he finally lifted his eyes. dark. sharp. blood still crusted faintly around one nostril.

“what do you want me to say?”

“anything, heeseung! you hit someone, in front of everyone. for what?”

he scoffed and pushed off the wall, standing taller now. “oh, so you did care about him?”

“of course—!”

“then go to him!” he cut you off, voice suddenly sharper. “you saw your precious park sunghoon reaching for you like he had a fucking right! you let him kneel in front of you like some goddamn romantic scene and didn’t do shit to stop him!”

you stared at him, stunned by his words, by the sheer fire in them. his jealousy was palpable, wrapping around you like barbed wire.

“it wasn’t like that!” you snapped. “he spilled the tray, it was an accident-”

“and you ran after him like you owed him something,” he snapped back, stepping forward. “do you like him that much, huh? is that it? you finally got your moment with your sweet little sunghoon and i ruined it?”

his voice broke a little on the last word, and that... that made your chest twist.

“what’s wrong with you?” you swallowed hard, your fists clenched by your sides.

“what’s wrong is that you’re here, yelling at me, when i was the one watching someone else touch you and you didn’t even flinch.”

“because i was embarrassed!” you shouted. “i didn’t even want that! and now everyone’s talking and blaming me like it’s my fault!”

heeseung laughed, short and bitter.

“well, it is your fault.” you felt like he’d slapped you.

he didn’t mean it, not really, you knew he didn’t, but your chest still hurt like he’d cracked it open with those words. you turned away, blinking back angry tears.

“you’re unbelievable...” you whispered. “you think everything’s about you! you don’t even ask how i felt, you... just—hit, lash out, like a child.”

“and you-” heeseung said, voice rising as he followed you, “you act like i’m some goddamn monster, but you’re the one who signed that letter. you put your name on it. you confessed. and then what? you wanna play pretend now? pretend like none of this happened? like i don’t matter?”

you turned sharply and stared up at him, eyes blazing.

“i wrote that letter to sunghoon!” heeseung’s face fell for half a second, the kind of collapse that only someone who’s pretending not to care can show.

“yeah,” he muttered, the anger sliding into something colder. “i know.”

“then why are you acting like i betrayed you?” you asked, softer now. “you knew from the start it wasn’t meant for you.” he looked at you for a long, long moment.

then his voice came quieter. rougher. “because i wanted it to be.”

the silence that followed was deafening. your lips parted, words stuck somewhere deep in your throat. he looked tired. not just physically—but like the weight of everything was finally pressing down too hard.

“you don’t get it,” he said, dragging a hand through his hair. “everyone likes sunghoon, he’s perfect, polite, all the girls love him, but me? all they say is i’m violent, i’m trouble, i ruin everything i touch. but then you… you never looked at me, not once, and when you did, it wasn’t with fear. it wasn’t with hate. it was just you. like i was no one.”

he stepped closer again. his eyes searched yours.

“and then you left that stupid letter. and it had your name. and for a second, just one, I thought maybe, maybe, you saw me too...” you didn’t know what to say.

he’d never said things like this before. he’d never opened that part of himself, it felt raw, and heavy... and real.

and it hurt.

“heeseung…” he shook his head and pulled back.

“don’t pity me,” he whispered. “just go.”

the weight of his words lingered in the air like smoke, thick and stinging and impossible to wave away, you didn’t move, you didn’t speak. the world around you kept breathing, leaves rustling, cars humming in the distance, the wind carrying whispers you couldn’t hear, but inside you, everything had gone terribly still.

heeseung had just told you he wanted to be the one you saw, the one you chose, and it didn’t sound like a plea.

it sounded like a wound.

your body moved before your mind could catch up, you stepped forward, slowly, gently, and reached out. his shoulders were tense under your fingers, rigid with pride or shame or anger, you didn’t know which. but when you wrapped your arms around him, pressing your cheek softly to his chest, he didn’t pull away. in fact, he froze, like the concept of being held was foreign, like affection wasn’t something he knew what to do with. and then, cautiously, his arms slid around your waist, locking you in like he was afraid you’d vanish if he loosened his grip for even a second.

“i know that letter wasn’t for me,” he murmured against your hair, his breath shaky and uneven. “but it didn’t matter, i wanted to pretend, just for a bit... just long enough to feel like i mattered to you.”

your heart clenched at the honesty in his voice, he never talked like this, he never needed anyone. yet here he was, folding himself into you like this was the only place he felt safe.

“but today-...” he said, his jaw tightening again, “seeing you look at him like that, defending him, letting him be near you, when you’re mine-... fuck, y/n, i hated it. i hated every second of it.”

you swallowed thickly, unsure what to say.

his hand slipped to your lower back, his thumb rubbing slow, nervous circles over your uniform.

“i don’t like it,” he confessed, softer this time, voice almost boyish, almost scared. “i don’t like when you look at someone else. i don’t like when you say another guy’s name. i know we started this weird, i know i forced it at first, but now, i can’t go back. i don’t want to.”

then, without warning, he shifted against you, his weight leaning into you as he rested his forehead on your shoulder. your breath hitched at the sensation, warm, real, so heeseung. one of his hands trailed up to your jaw, tilting your face ever so slightly, and his lips barely grazed the shell of your ear. his voice dropped, low and broken and real.

“just love me, y/n,” he whispered. “please.”

your entire body flushed in an instant. his breath, warm and trembling, lingered against your skin. his words settled into your bones like heat in the middle of winter, slow and consuming and terrifying in how much you suddenly needed to believe them. you hadn’t expected it, not the way he said it, not the way he sounded scared to lose you. not the way your chest ached with the realization that you already had one foot over the edge.

you pulled back slightly, just enough to see his face. his eyes weren’t cold now. they were dark and glassy and vulnerable, like he was offering you something fragile and asking you not to break it.

you didn’t say anything. you couldn’t.

instead, your hand rose to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against the fading bruise there. his eyes closed for a brief second at the touch, as if memorizing it.

and when you leaned in, when your lips barely brushed his, when the kiss you shared was soft, deliberate, and painfully slow, he kissed you back like you were the only thing in the world that made sense.

no teasing this time. no wicked smirk.

just heeseung, holding you like you were something he never expected to have, but now couldn’t live without.

💌 author's note: hello everyone! i think this is the longest chapter i’ve ever written, lol. i was considering splitting it into two parts and posting half of it in the next chapter, but i felt like everything was so intense that it had to stay together hahaha🤣 by the way! i found the manga i told you about, the one that inspired the initial premise of this fic. i found it on my old wattpad account, it’s called namete kajitte tokidoki medete 🚫this fic is not entirely based on that manga!🚫

i also want to thank you all for your endless support. the story will continue to grow, and please look forward to its progress😭 there are so many things i want to add gradually hahaha🩷🤭

the air was thick with late morning heat, and even though the sun hadn’t reached its peak, the gym felt like a furnace. the sharp scent of sweat and asphalt clung to the breeze, drifting lazily through the open fences that lined the school’s outdoor court. half the class was still jogging around the track, some dragging their feet, others pretending to run, while the faster students—those with better stamina—had already finished their laps and collapsed onto the metal bleachers.

jongseong leaned back with his arms behind him, his short-sleeved athletic shirt rolled tightly over his broad shoulders, exposing the defined lines of muscle that made more than one girl glance in his direction. he was smirking, breath still a little uneven from the last sprint, his eyes glinting with mischief.

next to him, jaeyun sat with one knee bent, the opposite pant leg pulled up haphazardly to his thigh, revealing toned calves and slightly bruised shins. he absentmindedly picked at the velcro on his sneakers, quiet, watching the others with a detached stare.

jungwon was fanning himself with his shirt, tugging the fabric back and forth, letting it rise just high enough to flash the lines of his abdomen. he didn’t seem to care who saw. in fact, the way he did it almost felt calculated. his hair stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat, but his smile stayed lazy and unbothered.

and then there was heeseung.

slouched low against the upper row of the bleachers, legs stretched out in front of him, arms crossed. his shirt clung to his chest and back from the heat, but he made no move to fan himself. his eyes were fixed somewhere in the distance, but he was listening. always listening.

“so,” jongseong said, his voice cutting through the buzz of sneakers pounding the court, “are you seriously dating her, or are you just dragging her around for fun?”

he snorted, clearly amused.

“looked like you were pulling a hostage the way you grabbed her yesterday.”

jungwon barked a laugh.

“no shit. she looked like a scared kitten. that face—pure ‘please don’t kill me’ energy.”

he mimicked your expression dramatically, eyes wide and lips parted, making jongseong wheeze beside him. they were laughing now, openly, unfiltered, like this was just another casual game of banter.

but jaeyun didn’t laugh.

he was still, too still. his fingers froze on his shoe strap. he stared at the court, but his mind was clearly somewhere else.

you.

he was thinking about the look you gave him yesterday. that flicker of recognition. the way your eyes widened and then instantly dropped, like you'd touched a flame you weren’t ready for.

of course you remembered.

he knew it the second your gaze lingered on him. not like you had with the other guys. no—you remembered everything.

his mouth felt dry. the sun pressed too hard on the back of his neck.

heeseung wasn’t laughing either.

his gaze slowly slid toward jaeyun, narrowing. he was good at reading people, always had been. and something in the way jaeyun’s shoulders tensed, in how he avoided eye contact, made alarm bells ring in the back of his skull.

he didn’t say anything—yet.

but his eyes stayed locked on him, unblinking.

“yo,” jongseong said, wiping his face with his sleeve. “what’s her name again? the girl. your... girlfriend or whatever.”

heeseung finally looked away from jaeyun. his jaw flexed.

“y/n.”

jungwon hummed, stretching his arms behind his head.

“y/n, huh? where the hell did you find her?”

“just appeared one day out of nowhere,” jongseong added, chuckling. “shy little thing. not really your type, man. you usually go for the loud ones.”

heeseung’s mouth twitched—not into a smile, but something unreadable, something almost thoughtful. he shifted on the bleachers, scratching the side of his neck, before dropping it casually:

“she confessed through a letter.”

the silence was instant.

not dramatic, not gasping—but real. the kind that hung in the air for a beat too long, making the sweat feel colder on their skin.

jongseong blinked first. then his brows lifted.

“wait—what?”

“you mean... like a literal letter? the kind with stickers and glitter shit?” jungwon leaned forward, his shirt still half-lifted over his abs, voice laced with disbelief.

heeseung rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it.

“white envelope, pink hearts, handwriting and everything.”

another beat of silence—then they all broke. jongseong doubled over with laughter, smacking his knee. jungwon slapped the metal bar behind him, choking on his own snort. even jaeyun, caught off guard, let out a dry, surprised sound—though his eyes never met heeseung’s.

“bro, that’s the oldest move in the fucking book,” jongseong wheezed, wiping fake tears from his eyes. “that’s elementary school shit, are you serious?”

“no way,” jungwon added between laughs. “you fell for that? a letter? next she’s gonna be passing notes under your desk asking if you like her: yes, no, or maybe.”

“holy shit,” jongseong continued, gasping for air. “what are you, twelve?”

they were relentless, the kind of laughter that echoed down the court and rang between the bars of the bleachers like a joke that wouldn’t die. heeseung didn’t laugh with them. he didn’t even smile.

his jaw tightened again. his fingers curled slightly against his thigh.

but he let them laugh. for now.

because none of them knew the letter wasn’t meant for him. and if they did, if even one of them found out—

he’d shut that laugh right out of their mouths.

his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, slow, deliberate. his eyes drifted back to jaeyun—who was still staring at the track like it had answers for questions he hadn’t asked aloud.

what was that look yesterday?

what the hell does he know?

before the tension could stretch thinner, a sharp whistle blew across the court.

“lee heeseung! sim jake! park jongseong and yang jungwon! back on the track!”

the coach’s voice barked through the humid air. the rest of the boys groaned as they stood, brushing dust from their legs and shoulders. jaeyun blinked and finally looked up.

heeseung didn’t break eye contact when he passed him.

but he didn’t ask anything—not yet.

he shouldn’t have looked at you, not for as long as he did, not in front of heeseung. but the second your eyes met his—wide, startled, familiar—he felt something seize in his chest, like a thread being yanked tight from a place he thought had been buried under months of silence.

because of course you remembered him.

how could you not?

he still remembered everything about that morning, too. the way your backpack bounced against your back as you sprinted across the pavement, hair messy, expression panicked, like the world was about to end if you didn’t reach the school gates in time.

he remembered because you looked nothing like the quiet girl everyone claimed you were. that day, you looked alive. desperate. out of breath and out of patience.

and desperate people did things they normally wouldn’t do.

you had snuck in through the back gate. the one behind the music building—always left cracked open by lazy maintenance workers. it wasn’t allowed, everyone knew that. but you clearly didn’t care. you’d looked behind you once, saw no teachers around, and slipped through, clutching your backpack like a shield.

he hadn’t meant to be there either. but he was. and so was that other guy.

jaeyun didn’t even remember his name anymore. didn’t care. all he remembered was the way the guy flinched under his fists, arms raised in surrender, whimpering like a dog that got too brave.

“don’t ever talk to chaeyoung like that again, you fucking freak,” he’d said through gritted teeth, pressing him against the concrete wall. “say one more word about her and i’ll bury your tongue under the soccer field.”

the guy had been trembling, red-faced and bleeding from the nose.

“i won’t, i swear, i won’t—please, man—”

“go to the infirmary. tell them you tripped on the stairs or something. if i hear my name come out of your mouth again, i’ll break your jaw next time.”

the guy stumbled away, practically limping, clutching his face and nodding like his head was about to fall off.

and then, he saw you. frozen. staring.

eyes wide. lips parted. shoulders pulled up like a deer cornered on a highway.

“shit,” he’d whispered to himself, blinking.

you were already turning to run.

“wait—hey! stop!” his voice had been sharp, not loud, but enough to make you halt. only barely. you looked like you were deciding whether to bolt or cry. maybe both.

he jogged up to you, lifting his hands in a half-assed attempt to look less threatening.

“you saw something you weren’t supposed to.” you stepped back, heart hammering.

“i didn’t see anything—i swear—i won't tell, i swear i won’t say anything—” your voice was rushed, shaky.

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he looked you up and down. not in the way most guys did. not predatory. just calculating. because he recognized you now. the quiet one. the one people said never talked.

“well,” he said after a pause, “you were doing something you weren’t supposed to, too.” your face paled.

he gestured casually to the back gate behind you.

“pretty sure students aren’t allowed to sneak in through that entrance. pretty sure i could get you in a lot of trouble if i said something.” you bit your lip. silence settled between you, thick and heavy.

then, timidly, you whispered:

“i won’t tell if you don’t.” he smiled. not smug. just… intrigued.

“deal.” he held out his hand.

you stared at it like it was a snake. but after a second of hesitation, you lifted yours and shook it.

it was small. cold. trembling.

his grip had been warm. steady. confident.

no more words were exchanged after that. no promises written in blood or cryptic threats. just that quiet, unofficial vow that neither of you ever mentioned again.

until now.

until this exact moment, watching you get dragged by the wrist by lee fucking heeseung—eyes downcast, lips pressed together in that same panicked silence— and jaeyun felt it again.

the weight of what you both knew.

and heeseung noticed the way he looked at you.

jaeyun felt it in the back of his neck. the heat. the suspicion.

and that was going to be a problem.

his words kept echoing inside your head like a broken record on loop, not loud, but persistent “what if i do like you?” and no matter how many times you tried to push it away, the sound clung to the back of your mind like a stubborn shadow.

you were sitting on the metal bleachers behind the gym, the sun dull and heavy overhead, your knees pulled up and your fingers twisting around the soft edge of your skirt, trying to ground yourself in something that wasn’t him. beside you, yoojung was half-watching the boys playing soccer, pretending not to glance at your face every few seconds, while hyojung scrolled aimlessly through her phone. neither of them spoke at first. they gave you space—until they couldn’t anymore.

“you’ve been weird all morning,” yoojung muttered, nudging your arm gently with hers. “what’s going on with you?”

you didn’t look up, just shook your head a little, voice low. “nothing. i’m fine.”

“is it because of heeseung?” hyojung asked this time, not unkindly, just careful. “did you guys… like, break up or something?”

that word—break up—felt too big, too official, too real. you didn’t know what you were with him. you barely knew what he was doing in your life at all. he didn’t walk you home yesterday. he hadn’t barged into your class this morning. he hadn’t even looked for you. and maybe that was normal for other people, but for him… it meant something. it meant silence. it meant absence. and that scared you.

you stayed quiet.

they looked at each other over your head, eyes flickering, sending whatever silent warning girls share when they know not to push too far. yoojung sighed and leaned back, stretching her arms behind her.

you looked down at your hands. the pink carton of strawberry milk was still cradled between your palms, half-warm from your touch. you hadn’t opened it. you hadn’t thrown it away either. just… held onto it. like it meant something. and maybe it did. he noticed that i always drink this. that one detail, small and stupid, made your chest ache in a way you weren’t prepared for. because it meant he’d been watching. he’d seen you—quiet, ordinary you—when no one else did.

and now you didn’t know what to feel about it.

meanwhile, at the very edge of campus behind the old storage building, heeseung leaned against a brick wall, long legs crossed at the ankles, a cherry lollipop tucked between his lips. he watched his friends pass around a cigarette, the smoke curling lazily into the muggy afternoon air. he didn’t want it. hadn’t wanted it in a while. the scent clung to everything—skin, clothes, breath. and lately, he hated the way it tasted. like ash. like guilt.

“you gonna take a hit or just stand there looking pretty?” jaeyun teased, exhaling smoke through his nose as he offered the cigarette toward him.

“cigarettes make your mouth smell like shit.” heeseung didn’t even glance at it.

jongseong barked a laugh. “what, were you expecting it to taste like roses?”

heeseung rolled his eyes and let the lollipop click against his teeth, his tone flat. “roses would still be better than shit.”

jungwon grinned from where he sat crouched on a low crate, flicking ash into a crushed soda can. “ohhh, i get it. so you wanna have a fresh mouth to kiss someone, huh?”

heeseung clicked his tongue, a warning in his expression, and raised a hand to lightly smack jungwon on the back of the head.

“don’t be annoying.”

jaeyun leaned in, squinting at him. “nah, he’s been weird lately. different. you’re all moody and shit. like, more than usual. what’s up with that?”

heeseung hesitated for a beat, tapping the stick of the lollipop against his front teeth. then, without looking at them, he muttered “i’m... seeing someone.”

the silence that followed was sharp.

“wait, what?” jongseong blinked.

“for real? like, actually dating?” jungwon tilted his head.

heeseung gave a small nod, eyes flicking up toward the sky as if bored.

jaeyun whooped. “ohhhh. that’s why you didn’t wanna go to the thing with the girls from wonhwa! sneaky bastard! you should’ve told us sooner.”

heeseung didn’t reply.

“so? who is she?” jongseong pressed. “is she from our school?”

“yeah...”

“is she hot?” jaeyun smirked. “did you hit already?”

the lollipop stopped moving in heeseung’s mouth. his jaw clenched slowly, then he turned his head, eyes hardening into something sharp and unreadable as he stared straight at jaeyun.

“don’t talk about her like that.” the tone was calm. quiet. dangerous.

“shit, alright. chill. didn’t think you’d get all protective.” jaeyun raised his hands, half-laughing, but the tension in the air had shifted.

“man… that’s weird. usually you’d only answer the last question.” jongseong shook his head, watching him with a half-smile.

heeseung didn’t deny it. didn’t smile. didn’t say anything at all. instead, he went back to sucking on the lollipop, looking off into the trees, where the shadows flickered in the wind.

he didn’t care if they thought it was weird.

because for the first time, this wasn’t just about proving something.

this wasn’t just a game.

your steps were slow, scattered, barely in sync with the hallway's rhythm as the last bell echoed in the distance. classes were over, but your mind wasn’t. it was still trapped back in that corridor, tangled in the words heeseung had whispered like a warning or a promise. “i’ll make you cry.”

you didn’t know how to feel. were you supposed to be scared? offended? intrigued? your chest had tightened like you were walking on a wire, teetering between dread and something that felt dangerously close to… longing. it was wrong. it didn’t make sense. and yet, your body remembered the weight of his stare, the rasp of his voice, the warmth of his hand around your wrist.

you sighed softly, so lost in your spiraling thoughts that you didn’t notice the corner you were turning—until you slammed into someone.

a soft gasp escaped you. the impact made your heart stutter, your cheeks flare hot, and when you looked up, your breath caught in your throat.

park sunghoon.

“woah, careful there,” he said with a gentle chuckle, steadying you by your arms.

he was close. closer than he’d ever been. and you could smell his cologne—something fresh, clean, almost too perfect.

you stumbled a few steps back, stammering an apology you couldn’t even finish. “i—i’m sorry, i didn’t see—”

your backpack had bounced awkwardly from the sudden stop, and you didn’t notice the small plush keychain that fell from its zipper until sunghoon bent down to pick it up. he held it between his fingers for a second longer than expected, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“this yours?” he asked, holding up the small yellow star with the smiling face.

you nodded weakly. your throat felt tight.

he laughed, soft and kind, the sound stirring something tender in your stomach. then he lifted the plush beside your face, tilting his head. “looks just like you.”

your whole body flushed. not just your cheeks—everything. from the tips of your ears to your fingertips.

that smile…

your heart drummed against your ribs, desperate to escape. it was like no time had passed. like the feelings you’d tried to bury were clawing their way back to the surface, alive and sweet and cruel. what if… what if he had read the letter?

what if it had been his locker?

you tightened your lips, the thought digging a sharp ache into your chest. sunghoon placed the keychain in your palm gently, brushing your skin just barely.

“see you,” he said, and walked away with a smile that left your thoughts scrambled.

you stood there for a moment, dazed, the star plush resting in your hand like a secret you couldn’t keep anymore. then you turned slowly and made your way to the school gates, trying to breathe, trying to think—

and stopped.

because you saw him.

heeseung.

standing just past the gate with his usual slouch, hands in his pockets, hair messy, face unreadable. but when he spotted you, his posture snapped straight and he started walking—fast.

you blinked, startled, your feet frozen in place.

“where were you? i was waiting for you outside the classroom” he asked, not quite yelling but not gentle either.

you frowned. “why?”

he gave you a look, like the question offended him. “what do you mean why? i was gonna walk you home.”

you hesitated. your instincts told you to say no. to make up an excuse, to escape before his presence overwhelmed you again. but before the words left your mouth, he reached out and grabbed your wrist.

“hey—let go,” you protested softly, trying to pull back.

“stop fighting,” he muttered, dragging you gently but firmly down the steps.

you turned to him, your voice trembling. “you said you wouldn’t do anything i didn’t want—”

“and you walked off without saying anything,” he snapped, his jaw tightening. “that pissed me off.”

you stared at him, really stared. at the furrow of his brows, the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes burned ahead like the world owed him something.

he was not like sunghoon.

not in the way he looked at you. not in the way he touched you.

and yet… you were his girlfriend. he had kissed you. he was the one taking you home.

heeseung wasn’t saying much now. but his grip on your wrist softened slightly as the school gates closed behind you. the cool breeze of late afternoon brushing against your skin did nothing to ease the heat in your chest.

as you passed a group of students near the front gate, you caught the familiar voices of his friends—jungwon, jongseong, and jaeyun. they all stopped talking when they saw you. they weren’t even subtle about it. you felt their eyes on you like a weight.

but it wasn’t until your gaze landed on jaeyun that your heart dropped.

his eyes widened the second they met yours, recognition flickering behind them like a switch being flipped.

you stared back. shocked.

you hadn’t seen that face in a long time, and it stirred something old and sharp and buried deep—something you’d locked away for good reason.

you quickly looked away. pretended you didn’t notice the way his expression faltered. but your stomach turned with unease.

you hadn’t known jaeyun was friends with heeseung.

and now that you did…

heeseung's pov

🎧 confident by justin bieber playing in the background...

i was used to being watched.

that sounds cocky as hell, but it’s just the truth. it was always like that. ever since i hit that growth spurt, ever since i started fighting back and didn’t give a damn what the teachers said—people started noticing. and girls? girls always noticed, some whispered, some stared, some smiled too long, i didn’t mind it. i liked it, actually. attention never felt like a bad thing to me, i played into it, fed off it, if someone wanted to fall in love with the version of me they made up in their heads, i didn’t stop them. i dated when i felt like it. dumped them when they got too clingy. rinse and repeat. nothing new.

then there was her.

at first, i didn’t notice her, not really, she wasn’t the kind of girl who walked in and made the room pause. she didn’t laugh loudly or flip her hair on purpose, she didn’t wear short skirts or lip gloss or whatever the hell was trending that week, she didn’t even try to look my way when i passed her in the hall, not even a glance. nothing.

and that bothered me.

i don’t know why.

maybe it shouldn’t have. but it did.

the first time i actually saw her, she was sitting in the second-to-last row, bent over her notes like the world might end if she didn’t write fast enough. her hair was tied up, kind of messy, and there were these tiny creases on her forehead like she was overthinking every word. she didn’t look up once. not even when someone behind her dropped a book or when i walked past her desk, it was like i didn’t exist.

and that was new.

that was interesting.

so, i started watching her, not like a creep or anything—just... noticing? from a distance, during lunch, in the gym, after class. she never hung around big groups, always stuck to the same two girls, her laugh was small, soft, and whenever someone bumped into her by accident, she apologized first—even if it wasn’t her fault.

then came sports week.

i remember her during the relay race. she was on the team but couldn’t finish the circuit. tripped halfway through and scraped her knee, got up and tried to keep going even though she was clearly shaken. no one said anything harsh, but i heard the pity in their voices. poor thing. she tried, at least. i saw the way she laughed it off, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy. i watched the whole thing from the bleachers, arms crossed, pretending not to care. but something about the way she stood there—trying not to cry in front of everyone—stuck in my head longer than i liked.

still, even then, she didn’t look at me. like i wasn’t even in her universe.

so yeah. when that white envelope with the dumb little hearts showed up in my locker and signed with her name? that shit hit different.

i almost didn’t believe it. i even checked if it was a joke. but no—her handwriting, her words, the way she poured herself onto the page like it meant something... it was real. and my first thought?

she finally noticed me.

i should’ve thrown it out. should’ve ignored it. but it was good for my ego, alright? the girl who never looked my way—the one i was convinced didn’t even know i existed—confessing through a letter like some cheesy old romance manga? hell no, i wasn’t letting that go.

i accepted immediately. obviously. maybe i didn’t ask... maybe i forced it a little... but i said yes, i claimed her, i didn’t even think twice.

but then… then came the punch to the gut.

when she stood in front of me, red-faced and trembling, asking for her letter back like it was some kind of mistake, i already knew something was off. the way she avoided eye contact, the way her voice cracked when she said, "that letter… it wasn’t meant for you."

i smirked, played it cool, shrugged like it didn’t mean shit.

until she said that name.

park sunghoon.

i swear, i almost fucking gagged.

him?

that stiff little robot? the teacher’s pet with the perfect smile and boring ass haircut? that’s who she was trying to confess to? i wanted to punch a locker. or throw up. or both. it wasn’t even jealousy—it was insult. sunghoon was everything i wasn’t. quiet, polished, fake as hell. i couldn’t wrap my head around it. was that really the type of guy she liked? what the hell did that mean about me?

still, i kept my face straight. acted like it didn’t bother me. but inside, something snapped.

nah. fuck that.

if she wanted perfect, she could go find it. but she wrote that letter. to me. maybe by accident, maybe not. either way, the moment it touched my hands, it became mine. and if i had to prove to her that i was worth more than whatever stupid fantasy she had about sunghoon, i’d do it—my way.

she wanted a prince? too bad.

she got me instead.

and now she was gonna learn what it meant to be wanted for real.

you didn’t see him that afternoon. not outside your classroom, not leaning by the gates like he sometimes did when he was trying to seem like he wasn’t waiting for you—when he’d glance away the second you looked in his direction, only to fall into step beside you like it was all a coincidence. this time, he wasn’t anywhere.

you even lingered by the courtyard longer than you should have, pretending to tie your shoelaces while scanning the crowd. but your chest tightened the longer you stood there alone, and the noise of the other students around you only made your solitude feel louder. heeseung had vanished, and with him, so had the fragile, stupid hope that had started blooming inside your chest these past days. your steps felt heavier as you walked home, the sun already dipping low. and all you could think about was how mina and chaeyeon had been right.

you were just a game.

a distraction. something temporary. something replaceable. your throat burned, but you kept walking.

meanwhile, heeseung sat sprawled on the sidewalk curb behind the convenience store near the station, hoodie pulled halfway over his head, eyes trained on nothing in particular. jaeyun was talking too much, his voice animated, practically bouncing with anticipation.

“so, saturday,” jaeyun started, picking at the edge of a sticker on his water bottle, “we’re heading out with those girls from wonhwa, right?”

jungwon nodded lazily, leaning back on his elbows. “the ones from the cheer squad?”

jaeyun grinned. “hell yeah. the girl in the pink skirt? she’s insane. swear to god. heard she’s crazy in bed.”

jungwon snorted. “and who told you that, her ex-boyfriend?”

“dude, her friend told jongseong, and he told me. it’s legit.” jongseong raised an eyebrow but didn’t deny it, just gave a half-smile and went back to scrolling through his phone. the other two laughed easily, the air between them thick with lazy confidence. boys talking like boys do when they think no one’s listening—or that no one will care what they say.

heeseung didn’t laugh. didn’t smirk. didn’t even flinch. he just stared ahead at the faded white lines of the parking lot.

jongseong eventually looked up. “yo, hee. you good? you’re coming saturday, right?”

“no. i’m not going.” heeseung shook his head, barely moving.

jungwon sat up straighter. “wait, why?”

“...” heeseung didn’t answer right away. his jaw tensed slightly. then he shrugged. “not interested.”

jaeyun blinked, then laughed. “what do you mean not interested? since when do you need to be interested? you’ve gone out with girls you didn’t even know before.”

jongseong added with a grin, “yeah, what’s the big deal? it’s not like it’s your first time ditching someone to hook up.”

they all laughed again—except heeseung. he sat there, silent, still.

then slowly, he lifted his head and looked at them. not smiling. not playing.

“what part of i’m not fucking going didn’t you idiots understand?”

his voice was low, even—but sharp enough to cut the air clean through. the group fell completely silent. jaeyun stopped smiling. jungwon blinked, startled. jongseong looked away, clearing his throat. nobody said another word. and heeseung leaned back again, pulling his hood lower, eyes burning into the pavement, thinking only of you.

the next morning, you kept your head down as you walked into school. there was a heavy feeling sitting in your chest, something like dread, something like disappointment, and you tried not to look for him, tried to tell yourself you didn’t care—but your eyes still scanned the hallway against your will. and that’s when you saw him.

lee heeseung.

he was already standing by his locker, hands shoved into his hoodie pocket, his weight leaning slightly on one leg, gaze unreadable. he wasn’t smirking, he wasn’t cocky, he just watched you as you approached, not saying anything at first.

you stopped a few feet away, hesitating.

then, wordlessly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pink carton. strawberry milk... your favorite.

“i know it’s your favorite.” your eyes flicked from the carton to his face, unsure. you hesitated before taking it, your voice barely a whisper.

“how do you know that?” he didn’t meet your eyes right away. he looked past you, at the crowd moving behind you, like he was avoiding something.

“you always drink it.” your heart stuttered in your chest. a small, stupid detail—but the fact that he noticed… that he remembered… it made something tighten in your throat. but the weight of what the girls had told you just days ago came rushing back, slicing through the warmth before it could settle. your fingers clenched slightly around the carton. you looked down.

“give me back the letter, please...”

“what?” his brows lifted slightly.

“the letter,” you repeated, firmer this time. “please, give it back.”

his expression darkened with amusement, and he leaned his back against the locker behind him, tilting his head like he found this whole thing funny. you hated the way he was looking at you—like he was already several steps ahead in a game you didn’t want to play.

“why?” he asked. “you want it so bad?” you nodded, fists clenched at your sides, but your lips trembled. he stared at you for a second longer, then slowly turned to his own locker, spun the dial with practiced ease, and popped it open.

for a moment, your breath held. and then he reached inside and pulled out the folded, heart-stamped letter—the one you wrote with shaking hands under your blanket that night, the one where you confessed everything with every ounce of courage you had. he held it like it was nothing. like it wasn’t your whole heart in a piece of paper.

“if you want it so bad,” he said, voice lower now, playful and sharp, “then take it.” before you could even move, he slipped it under his hoodie, tucking it inside his shirt—right against his chest. your eyes went wide, your entire face flushing instantly.

“w-what—?”

“go ahead,” he said, stepping a little closer, smiling with that same dangerous smirk he always wore when he had the upper hand. “if you can pull it out, i’ll give it back. and i’ll even stop bothering you. we’ll be done.”

your heart was racing too fast. your skin burned. this was humiliating, ridiculous, twisted, and yet you couldn’t look away from him. you hated the challenge in his tone, hated how confident he was, hated the flicker of something hot in your stomach as he leaned forward slightly, daring you with his eyes.

your hand trembled as you lifted it, halfway to reaching out. his grin widened, watching you like a predator watching prey hesitate at the edge of the trap.

but before you could even touch him, your hand dropped, and your voice broke.

“i—i...” you whispered softly. “i can’t...” you turned away, face burning, eyes filling with tears you didn’t want to show. “i-i can’t do it, this is too much—”

he laughed. really laughed, the sound echoing down the hallway, rich and cruel and amused beyond belief.

“damn,” he said, shaking his head. “looks like you lost.”

he leaned forward again, tone light but eyes sharp.

“guess we’re still dating.” you spun to face him, fists clenched now for a different reason, voice cracking with anger and something deeper—something breaking.

“heeseung... i know you don’t like me.” he looked up.

you forced yourself to continue, even as your chest burned, your voice trembling.

“you don’t see me that way... you’re just playing! and i’m tired of being in your stupid little game.” he didn’t react at first. didn’t smirk. didn’t roll his eyes or scoff. he just stared at you, and when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than you expected.

“what if i do like you?” you froze.

he stepped a little closer, but not enough to touch you. just enough to make you feel the weight of his presence again.

“is this about the rumors?”

you didn’t answer, but the way your eyes dropped told him everything.

“what people say about me… they don’t know me. they don’t know how i act when i actually care. they’ve only seen the worst parts of me—and yeah, there’s a lot of that. i know. but they’re not in this. you are. and the only person you should be listening to… is your boyfriend.”

you looked up, startled, your breath catching at that word.

heeseung’s expression didn’t change. “me.”

he let that hang in the air before continuing, his voice low, almost careful.

“i’m rough sometimes, maybe too much, i get angry fast, i don’t always say the right thing, and yeah, i kissed you first. maybe i shouldn’t have. but i did... and i don’t regret it.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to cry.

“i won’t do it again,” he added, more gently now. “not unless you want me to.”

there was a pause, long, heavy, your heart was pounding in your ears. and for the first time, you saw something fragile behind his eyes. not regret—but fear. not fear of you leaving, but fear of being real with you. of lowering the mask and not knowing if you’d still choose him once you saw everything underneath.

and maybe that’s what made you hesitate.

heeseung reached under his shirt again and pulled the letter out—creased, warm from his skin, but still intact. he held it in front of your face, not letting go of it.

“this is proof, you wrote it,  you confessed first, you wanted this.”

“i—i didn’t mean it like—”

“doesn’t matter,” he cut in, lips curling at the edges. “you said you wanted to be with someone, that's me, you wanted to make me happy, you wrote all that.”

you looked away, embarrassed beyond belief, but he stepped closer again and tilted your chin up gently with two fingers, making you look at him.

“so,” he said, soft but firm. “officially. you’re mine now.”

he didn’t move, not even an inch, as you stood frozen in front of him, his fingers still curled lightly around your chin, gaze heavy like iron on your skin. and then his lips curled into that same slow, deliberate smirk that made your stomach twist.

“you’ll keep being my girlfriend,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, “if you can last until the end.”

he took another step, the space between you vanishing, your backs nearly brushing the lockers behind you as the toes of his shoes met yours. he leaned in, close enough that you could feel the heat of his body seep into yours, close enough that his breath ghosted against your cheek when he spoke again, quieter this time, like a threat whispered in secret.

“i’ll give the letter back. but if you can’t…” his hand slid up, fingers hooking beneath your chin again, lifting it with more pressure this time until your eyes were locked on his, unable to look away, heart pounding in your throat. “…then i’ll make you cry.”

your breath hitched. you didn’t understand how someone could say something like that so calmly, so easily, with a look that made it impossible to know if he meant it as a joke or a promise. his face dipped closer, inch by inch, until the space between your mouths was barely a breath—too close, too intimate, and your mind screamed that he was going to do it again, that he’d steal another kiss, that you were cornered and trapped and trembling—

“noooo!!”

your voice cracked like thunder in the hallway as you shoved him with both hands, hard enough that he staggered back a step, shocked. your eyes burned with tears, your cheeks flushed with fury and humiliation as you shouted, voice breaking:

“you said you wouldn’t do it if i didn’t want to!!”

you didn’t wait for a response. you didn’t look at him. you turned on your heel and ran, tears blurring your vision as your footsteps echoed down the hallway, heart racing, lungs burning, your body moving faster than your thoughts.

behind you, heeseung stood still for a second. and then he smiled. not a soft smile. not one of kindness or regret. but something darker. something like triumph. because even after all that, even after your scream and your fear and your flight—he’d made you feel something.

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find the letters...

✦ lettre une 💌

summary: you write a love letter for park sunghoon… but it ends up in someone else’s locker.

wc: 5k

🎀 read here!

✦ lettre deux 💌

summary: heeseung declares you're his girlfriend, and everyone begins to talk — especially chaeyeon and mina, who warn you about all the rumors surrounding him.

wc: 2,3k

🎀 read here!

✦ lettre trois 💌

summary: when you confront heeseung to get your letter back, he refuses, teasing you before boldly claiming you as his girlfriend. despite your protests, he says the moment you wrote that letter, you became his—officially.

wc: 3k

🎀 read here!

✦ lettre quatre 💌

summary: fleeting encounters with sunghoon stir feelings you thought were gone, while a mysterious connection with jaeyun begins to surface… what will it lead to?

wc: 1,7k

🎀 read here!

✦ lettre extra 💌

summary: the day you first met jaeyun and the secret promise you made back then resurface… how will heeseung react when the truth comes to light?

wc: 1,7k

🎀 read here!

✦ lettre cinq 💌

summary: your first date with heeseung feels unexpectedly sweet, but repeated encounters with sunghoon stir up old feelings and confusion. when heeseung notices, his reaction makes you wonder... is he really the monster everyone talks about, or is there more to him than meets the eye?

wc: 6,8k

🎀 read here!

✦ lettre six

coming soon...

✦ lettre sept

coming soon...

✦ lettre huit

coming soon...

✦ lettre neuf

coming soon...

✦ lettre dix

coming soon...

you didn’t sleep. not really. you tossed and turned all night, your heart too loud, your lips still tingling, your brain replaying the moment over and over again — the warmth of his mouth, the way he pulled you against him, the look in his eyes when he said you tasted sweet. you buried your face in your pillow in humiliation every time your thoughts drifted back to the kiss, and you couldn’t believe it. your first kiss. your first real kiss. and it had been taken from you. stolen by someone you didn’t even like, didn’t even know, someone who had laughed while doing it and walked away like it was nothing. your stomach twisted with the memory, and by the time your alarm rang, you were exhausted and on the verge of tears.

stepping into the classroom felt like dragging your body to a courtroom. every step was heavy, every breath shallow. you kept your head low and made a beeline for your desk, gripping your bag tightly, hoping no one had heard or seen anything. but yoojung and hyojung were already there, and the second they saw your face, they knew something was wrong.

you didn’t want to say it, but it slipped out, your voice cracking the moment the words hit the air. "he… he kissed me."

they froze. yoojung’s eyes widened, hyojung dropped her pen, and the silence stretched for a beat too long.

"he what?" yoojung asked, her voice rising, eyebrows furrowing in disbelief.

"he kissed me," you repeated, softer this time, almost in a whisper, like saying it louder would make it more real. your hands trembled slightly as you clutched your bag, your eyes stinging with shame. "i didn’t want him to. he just— pulled me close and… and it happened. i didn’t even see it coming. i— i’ve never… it was my first—" you stopped, voice breaking. the tears were right there now, trembling on your lashes.

"that asshole," hyojung hissed, slamming her book shut. "what kind of psycho does that?!"

"i swear to god, i’m going to kick his face in," yoojung snapped, already halfway out of her chair. "he can’t do that. he can’t. you didn’t even agree to date him, you didn’t want this!"

"he’s a damn delinquent!" hyojung added. "you don’t deserve this, y/n. you’re not someone he can just—"

but before she could finish, the classroom door opened, and a hush fell over the room like a cold wind. you didn’t have to turn around. you felt it. the shift in energy. the ripple of tension that rolled through your classmates as they all turned their heads toward the back.

he was here.

lee heeseung.

he didn’t knock. didn’t ask. didn’t say anything as he strolled into the room like he owned the place. your heart dropped into your stomach as you watched him scan the desks — and when his eyes landed on yours, his expression shifted into something unreadable, something dark and vaguely amused.

without a word, he marched toward your desk, stopping in front of the seat just ahead of yours. a guy was sitting there, mid conversation, when heeseung nudged the back of his chair with his foot — more like a small kick than a tap.

"move," he said simply.

the guy looked up, confused. "what—?"

"i said move," heeseung repeated, his voice calm, cold, like he wasn’t even angry — just done wasting time. the student stood up without further argument, clearly intimidated, and heeseung dropped into the chair, turning it around so he could lean forward against your desk, his chin resting on his arms as he looked up at you like you were the only person in the room.

"morning, babe," he said, like yesterday hadn’t happened, like stealing your kiss hadn’t meant anything, like pushing someone out of their seat wasn’t worth blinking over.

you shrank in your seat, your eyes darting to your friends for help, but yoojung looked frozen, and hyojung’s expression was somewhere between panic and disbelief. everyone was watching. everyone. some eyes filled with confusion, others with judgment, most with fear. and pity. god, the pity was the worst. murmurs erupted across the classroom almost instantly.

"you sleep okay?" he asked, like you were catching up after a nice date and not a mental breakdown.

you didn’t answer. couldn’t. your hands were trembling under the desk.

"you look like shit," he added, not unkindly—but not kindly either. just saying it. stating a fact. his voice dropped a little lower. "you think too much. stop doing that."

you blinked. slowly. did he know you barely slept? or was he just… guessing? either way, it felt wrong how he said it. too familiar. too intimate. the way people were still staring at you both like you were some kind of bizarre horror show only made it worse.

you heard someone whisper behind you.

"is that really her boyfriend?"

"how did she even get him?"

"heeseung? no way…"

he turned his head, slowly, toward the group of girls sitting to the left. locked eyes with the one who just whispered. silence fell again like a blanket of ice.

"wanna shut up?" he said calmly, but his tone was razor sharp, cold and dangerous in a way that made the girl shrink back in her seat immediately. "you’re irritating me."

your whole body tensed, unable to breathe. was he serious? what was this? why did it feel like he was playing a game you didn’t understand?

before you could say anything, the classroom door opened and the teacher entered, eyes narrowing when he noticed the unexpected visitor.

"lee heeseung," the teacher said, clearly annoyed. "you’re not even in this class. get out."

heeseung stood up slowly, scraping the chair back with a screech that echoed through the silent room. he didn’t look at the teacher. only at you. eyes unwavering.

"i’ll see you at break," he said. "don’t run this time."

and just like that, he left. you felt like collapsing.

and true to his word — he was waiting when the lunch bell rang.

you tried to escape. really, you did. you held onto your friends’ sleeves like lifelines, whispering that maybe if you stuck together, you could lose him in the crowd. but he was already leaning against the wall right outside your door, arms crossed, head tilted, watching every student exit until his eyes landed on you. he pushed off the wall immediately and stalked over, grabbing your arm before you could bolt.

"where do you think you’re going?" he asked, not unkindly, but firmly, like you were being ridiculous for even thinking of hiding. then he turned to your friends and added, "go. i’m having lunch with my girlfriend. so scram."

yoojung opened her mouth to protest, but one look from him shut her right back up. hyojung hesitated, gave you an apologetic look, and tugged yoojung away reluctantly.

you didn’t say anything as he walked with you to the cafeteria, his hand still wrapped around your wrist, his grip steady but not painful. people were watching. people were whispering. you felt like you were floating in a nightmare, unable to ground yourself.

then, as if nothing had happened, heeseung shoved himself to the front of the cafeteria line, pushing aside a group of startled first-years. they didn’t even complain — just stepped back in silence, clearly too scared to say anything.

you stood behind him, frozen and pale, trying not to cry from sheer embarrassment.

he dropped your tray on the table with a loud clack and sat down across from you, already digging into his food with zero shame. you stared at him, still too stunned to sit, unsure if you were supposed to thank him or slap him.

you stared at him. stared at the food. stared at your hands in your lap.

everything about this — the way he forced people aside, how he pushed your friends away, the way he just decided you were his — it wasn’t normal. it wasn’t okay.

"eat," he said, not looking up. "you didn’t eat breakfast, right? figured."

you slowly sat down, your hands stiff and unsure. your stomach churned. not from hunger, but from fear, humiliation, and whatever this twisted situation had become. the cafeteria buzzed around you, full of noise and life, but your table was a bubble of silence. no one dared sit nearby. people passed and stared, whispered and moved on. everyone knew who he was. and now, they knew you were his.

but he didn’t care. he ate like nothing mattered. like he was exactly where he wanted to be.

and for some reason you couldn’t explain, a small part of you—the tiniest, most shameful part—wondered what would happen if you didn’t fight this.

because for the first time in your life… someone had claimed you.

and that someone was lee heeseung.

you didn’t eat. your fingers hovered over the tray for minutes that dragged like hours, your eyes flicking occasionally to heeseung as he ate like this was the most mundane thing in the world. he didn't say much while he chewed, just made these low, bored hums of satisfaction, like the food was halfway decent and that alone was enough to keep him in a good mood.

you hated that he looked so comfortable. you hated more that no one dared to come close, and that people kept staring at you—like you were the stupid girl who got herself involved with lee heeseung.

you hated the way your heart still hadn't stopped racing, the way your hands trembled under the table, the way you couldn't stop feeling like a rabbit locked in a cage with a wolf that had somehow decided not to eat you—yet.

you tried to keep your voice steady, but it cracked halfway through when you finally spoke, words barely louder than a whisper. “i… i didn’t write that letter for you.”

heeseung didn’t react at first. his spoon paused mid-air, still dripping a bit of soup, but his face remained unreadable—no twitch of irritation, no surprise, no hurt, just a kind of flat silence that suddenly made your skin crawl. the air between you shifted, like you had stepped into the wrong room of a dream. you tried again, swallowing thickly, your voice trembling more now.

“it was meant for someone else... park sunghoon. he’s a year above me... i must’ve put it in the wrong locker, i… i didn’t mean for you to find it...”

he lowered his spoon slowly, placed it onto the tray with a quiet clink, and leaned back in his chair as he studied your face. the silence between you stretched thinner and thinner until it was almost painful, and when he finally spoke, his tone was low, measured, almost casual—but you could feel the pressure underneath it like a wire wrapped too tight.

“what?”

you blinked, confused. “what?”

he scoffed softly under his breath, tilted his head to one side, and gave you a look that made your chest tighten with something dangerously close to shame.

“so?” he said, shrugging like your entire emotional crisis was nothing more than a failed math quiz. “you really think i care who you meant to give it to?” he leaned forward then, elbows on the table, hands clasped loosely in front of him like this was a negotiation he’d already won. “you wrote it. you handed it in. it reached me. that’s all that matters.”

you stared at him in disbelief, unsure if he was serious or just playing with you. “but—”

“you want it back?” he interrupted, voice sharp, not loud but firm. “you want me to pretend i never saw it, that you never said those things, that you didn’t want someone to like you back so bad you poured your whole heart into a sheet of paper?” his eyes locked onto yours, intense and unblinking. “should i crumple it up and throw it away? is that what you want?”

you didn’t know what to say. your lips parted, your breath caught. his words cut deeper than you expected. you wanted to scream at him, push him away, demand your letter back, deny everything—but the truth was, he wasn’t wrong. you had wanted someone to see you. you had wanted someone to choose you, to say yes, to make you feel like maybe you weren’t just background noise in everyone else’s lives. but not like this. never like this.

heeseung leaned closer, lowering his voice until only you could hear.

“you were brave to write that,” he said, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, like it actually mattered to him. “even if you’re scared now, even if you’re trying to take it back. i’m not letting you.”

you snapped, finally, your fear twisting into something sharp in your throat. “you don’t get to decide that!” you said, louder than you meant to. your face burned with frustration, and tears prickled behind your eyes. “you don’t even know me!”

he paused. then smiled, slow and unbothered, tilting his head like you’d just challenged him to a game he already planned to win.

“then let’s fix that.”

he stood abruptly, grabbed both trays, dumped them without a word, and returned to you, offering no explanation as he started walking. you stumbled after him, confused, overwhelmed, because you couldn’t just sit there after that—because even if your instincts screamed to run, something darker and dumber kept your feet moving.

you flinched when he reached for your hand again, and this time he didn’t bother hiding his annoyance. he sighed, rolled his eyes, and gripped your sleeve instead.

“fine. don’t hold hands. yet. but i’m walking you home anyway. try not to cry about it.”

you didn’t respond. didn’t have the strength to argue. the walk outside felt surreal—your feet barely touching the ground, your heart pounding in your ears. he didn’t say much, just kept pulling you along like it was his job, like your resistance wasn’t even part of the equation anymore.

you were stuffing your books into your locker with slow, deliberate movements, pretending not to notice the glances thrown your way, the whispers curling around the edges of the hallway like smoke—soft but suffocating. it had only been a few days since the cafeteria incident, and yet it felt like everyone had an opinion about you. the shy girl who accidentally confessed to the wrong guy. the girl lee heeseung decided to claim.

you tried to focus on your breathing, on staying grounded, but the echo of his laugh, the way he’d looked at you like he was peeling away your skin to see what was underneath—it haunted you. and then, you felt them before you saw them. footsteps. that particular silence that people make when they’re about to talk to you. and you turned slowly, already uneasy, already knowing.

chaeyeon and mina stood in front of you. two girls from your class. pretty, sharp-looking, and painfully familiar. it took you a second to remember why—then it clicked. they were the girls heeseung had shut down in front of the whole classroom, the ones who had whispered too loudly about him, about you, and had earned a venomous glare and that cold, spine-chilling, “wanna shut up?” that had left the air in the room frozen for hours.

“hey,” mina said, soft but purposeful, folding her hands in front of her like she didn’t want to look threatening. “can we talk to you for a sec?”

you swallowed hard, nodded slowly, heart already starting to beat faster. chaeyeon remained silent, arms crossed, her gaze steady and unreadable. she looked like someone about to drop a truth you didn’t want to hear.

“is it true?” mina asked, her eyes narrowing slightly. “are you really going out with lee heeseung?”

you opened your mouth, unsure what to say—because were you? did being dragged through the school by your sleeve, having your lunch picked for you, and getting walked home under threats of “we’ll do more than hold hands later” count as dating?

but before you could form anything close to a response, chaeyeon shifted her weight and said flatly, “i’ll tell you one thing. there are a lot of rumors about him.”

mina nodded, eyes darting to your face, watching every flicker of emotion. “he’s kinda famous for… making girls cry. seriously. they say none of his relationships last longer than a month.”

your throat tightened. something cold settled in your stomach. “h-how do you know that?” you asked, your voice small and broken before you could stop it.

chaeyeon looked at you with a knowing gleam in her eye. “i was dating his friend, jungwon. they talk about that stuff. a lot. heeseung’s cruel. he doesn’t even try to hide it.” she leaned in a little. “he gets bored fast. he breaks them before they even realize it.”

you felt your fingers dig into the edge of your locker. the metal felt hot against your skin.

“has he done anything weird to you?” mina asked carefully. “has he tried to… i don’t know… force you into anything?”

your heart skipped. your face flushed immediately, the heat rising from your neck to your ears. you didn’t even have time to form an answer before chaeyeon’s eyes narrowed and she tilted her head slightly.

“he kissed you already, didn’t he?”

your silence—your blush—was all the answer they needed.

“knew it,” chaeyeon muttered, almost to herself. “he always does that. fast. makes you feel like you’re special, like you’re the one that’s different. he’s good at it.”

her words hit you like ice water poured over your head.

so he didn’t mean it?

was it just part of the pattern?

you felt something close to shame twisting inside your chest, guilt and anger and sadness all tangled together. your voice cracked when you tried to speak, but nothing came out. they didn’t wait for you to recover.

“just… be careful,” mina said softly, looking at you with something between sympathy and pity. “seriously. don’t let him mess you up.”

jaehyun and you were that couple in high school everyone lowkey rolled their eyes at because you were too in love… but deep down, everyone knew you were endgame.

you went to the same college, moved in together freshman year, and never looked back. your relationship only got stronger with time.

graduation night? you had slow, emotional sex and jaehyun literally asked you to marry him while you were still in his arms. no ring yet, no big speech. just raw emotion and certainty.

you got married right after college and immediately started trying for kids — not because of pressure, but because you wanted that life together.

five kids later and jaehyun is still completely obsessed with you. like, can’t-keep-his-hands-off-you level obsessed.

he has such a huge breeding kink it’s actually insane. anytime you even mention babies, he gets this look in his eyes and you know you're not walking the next day.

during all your pregnancies, jaehyun’s overprotective side gets even worse. he’s clingy, always rubbing your belly, always asking if you've eaten, if you're tired, if you're okay.

sex while you're pregnant? his favorite. he gets extra soft but also somehow even filthier, whispering shit like, “look how full you are with my baby, fuck.”

you guys never grew out of that honeymoon phase — both of you still kiss like teenagers, still make out on the couch when the kids are asleep, still can’t keep your hands off each other.

jaehyun has this habit of pulling you into his lap when you're doing literally anything — feeding the baby, folding laundry, talking on the phone — just because he needs to touch you.

you still get butterflies around him, especially when he calls you “my girl” in that low voice he uses when he’s pissed or horny (or both).

both of you really dgaf what anyone thinks. kiss in public, post cheesy couple pics with captions like “still can’t believe she’s mine,” and basically live in your own little bubble.

the house is loud as hell, filled with kids running around, toys everywhere, half-finished meals — but also love. so much love.

sometimes jaehyun just stares at you from across the room while you're holding the baby, and you’ll catch him and be like “what?” and he’ll just shrug like “you’re so fucking beautiful.”