Gunil 🖤

Leaving the fifth shop that day, Seungcheol couldn’t help the huff that escaped his lips as they formed a pout while taking a seat, waiting for Jeonghan to finish up his purchase. In truth, he thought it was going to be a quick trip out to get you a present and make it back in time for his session with Jihoon, however, it turned into a few hours of looking over everything in each shop only to leave each one empty-handed. He couldn’t believe that he had no idea what to get you for your birthday this year. Did he want to go big? Should he do something small? Would it be something that you wanted? Does it make sense to get you something that has a more practical use? Lost in his own world of endless thoughts, he didn’t hear Jeonghan approach nor sit down next to him. Jumping slightly at the poke on his arm, he turned sharply to look at who touched him, calming down when he saw it was only his friend who was wearing a smile.

Have you thought about just calling and asking them what to go? Jeonghan shrugged leaning back on the bench, clearly giggling at Seungcheol’s misfortune of not thinking things through. It never even crossed Seungcheol’s mind to ask you what you wanted. Heat raised up his neck as he carefully pulled out his phone, dialing your number and holding his breath as he waited for you to pick up. Tradition meant that Seungkwan and Vernon took you out and spend the three of you would spend the entire day before your birthday, doing who knows what but vowing to try and shut out the outside world. It never bothered him before but as your phone rang, he couldn’t help but think of how unfairly easy their gift to you was. How did that tradition even start up he wondered. Hello?, you answered sounding like you were smiling. Um, hi, Seungcheol got out almost too quickly, he knew that he was interrupting your time with your best friends, but he really didn’t know how to go about asking you what you wanted. Is everything ok?, you questioned with concern lacing your voice. Vernon said you were out with Jeonghan. Did something happen?, you finished almost whispering.

As he listened to you voice and hearing the concern over him, he couldn’t help the butterfly feeling in his chest that even when you were busy doing stuff, he crossed your mind even just a little bit. Did Vernon bring him up casually or did you ask about his plans for the day? Rubbing the back of his neck, he realized, who was he kidding, Vernon probably brought him up and that’s the only reason that you were thinking about him. It pained him sometimes to understand that while you two were friends, there was a few people above him on the list that you would call first if needed. I know your busy, Seungcheol starts, but I was wondering if there was anything specific you wanted for your birthday?, he finished heat spreading across his face as his attention turned towards the ground so that his friend hopefully wouldn’t see how red his cheeks were. In the process, his eyes caught on his shoes, a gift from you his last birthday.

˚⁎⁺˳

His mind takes him back to the few memories surrounding such a normal gift. At the time he had begged that no one get him anything, including his own members. Instead, all he really wanted was for everyone to celebrate with dinner and drinks in a rented house. The day before you were both shopping together, grabbing a few items for the following day, when the shoes caught his eye. Seungcheol spent a few minutes looking at them, trying to decide if they were really something that he wanted to buy or not. What he didn’t realize was that you were watching him, asking the shopkeeper to pull a pair in his size, promising to come back for them. When he opened the gift from you, it took every ounce of restraint he had left after drinking to not get up, walk over to you, and kiss you deeply.

˚⁎⁺˳

Snapping back to the present, he half cursed himself for letting his mind wonder after asking you such an important question. Hmm, I think those two items would be at the top of my list for gifts, you finished saying with a small giggle escaping your lips before a muffled shout was yelled at someone. Seungcheol truly messed up his one chance to get you something that you wanted just because of how much his shoes meant to him, and all he could think was that Jeonghan was going to either kill him or make fun of him for the rest of time. He really didn’t want to think about what Jihoon was going to do if he was late, again, especially for something that could be taken care of after their meeting. Are you sure there isn’t anything else you’d like?¸ he asked hoping that maybe you’d repeat the first two things in the process of telling him there wasn’t anything more. Honestly, no, I think just those two items. It’s already a big ask for one of those. You could split it with the members like you do for other birthday, you simply replied before yelling something about almost being done at his two younger members. Again, why did they get the tradition of taking you out before your birthday? I mean besides you, you whispered so incredibly faintly that he almost didn’t hear you.

His head felt fuzzy as he just repeated what you said over and over again in his head. There was no way that he heard you right, was there? I really need to go before Kwannie decides he is going to do something he regrets when he sees you again, you laugh before hanging up without another word. Oh, he was so completely done for. Did you mean to say that? Was this really happening? Still holding his phone to his ear, he stood before the idea slipped from his mind. Moving quickly, he left a very confused Jeonghan in the distance, as Seungcheol made his way to a shop that he knew would have exactly what he was looking for. Was he slightly out of his mind for this? Yes. Did he really care that everyone was going to make fun of him? No. Within no time, he returned with gift bag in hand while ushering his friend to go so he wouldn’t be late for his studio time.

˚⁎⁺˳

Barely escaping Jihoon’s annoyance and Jeonghan’s endless questioning, Seungcheol managed to make it to your birthday day without anyone knowing what he had gotten you as a gift nor the words that you said to him. During the day he tried to come up with the best time for him to present the gift to you, and all he could land on was immediately upon his arrival at the venue. He knew that it was likely going to be embarrassing for him if he really did miss hear you, but those four words still rung clear in his head every time he thought back to your conversation. ‘I mean besides you’. Those four words were never going to leave his mind. They constantly rang through his mind at random times of the day making him blush doing the most normal of tasks, usually making him hide his face to avoid the teasing of his members around him. His heart raced as he imagined what your response could be.

The hours felt like they slowly ticked by as he waited for the start of your party, well the party that the members insisted they would be throwing for you, for just you and your thirteen closest friends. Pacing in his room, he heard the constant conversations ebbing and flowing before the faint click of the door to their dorm. From his memory, he knew that people were assigned certain tasks for the day to get everything ready, causing him to stop dead in his tracked as he recalled that he assigned responsibility was picking you up and bring you to the location they had picked out. Cursing under his breath, his body was again moving towards the closet to figure out what to wear because all he wanted was to wear something that impresses you. Within no time, his fingers wrapped around the gift bag before he went out the door with someone shouting to make sure he sticks to the plan.

The plan, that was completely fleeing his mind as his nerves radiated throughout his body. Was he about to do this? The different possible outcomes continued to fill his mind as he drove slowly to your place, trying to fully get a plan in place before he got to your door. Finally arriving at your place, he checked his phone to countless texts from the group telling him he needed to stall a few extra minutes due to a small hiccup that Mingyu caused. Pulling together the last little bit of courage he needed, he let his feet carry him towards your door, fingers gripping the handle of the gift bag as he neared your door, nerves on edge as he tried to again picture what your reaction would be.

Carefully, Seungcheol pulled out the little present from the bag, gently clipping the bow into his permed hair, taking one last steading breath before knocking on your door. ‘Besides you’ continued to echo in his head as he heard your shuffling around inside calling for just a few seconds more before you could get to the door. His breathing turned uneven as the seconds moved on painfully slow. Before he could make the decision to remove the bow from his hair, you swung the door open, mouth slightly open but a confused look etched across your features. Hi, are you my ride for the night? You asked, eyes staying glued to his hair. Um, yeah I am. Also, um, happy birthday, he said as his hands slightly pointed back at himself, shyly trying to indicate that he was your gift. The silence that then filled the already quiet hallway, stretched on for what felt like eternity before Seungcheol rubbed the back of his neck, thinking that maybe he did hear you wrong the other day.

Red was blooming across your face and on your exposed ear as you whispered, oh my, you heard that?, hands moving to cover your face. That wasn’t exactly how I planned on you knowing that I had a crush on you, you finished trying to cover your face. Without thinking, he grabbed your hand, pulling it into his chest, and you along with it. Matching your voice level, I was hoping that I heard you right so that I could confess to you, he breathed into your hair, because I really like you and I have for a while now. Letting you pull back slightly, he watched as your eyes took him in again before eyes landing on the bow, a smile slowly spreading across your lips, replacing the red that has previously been there.

I guess a very happy birthday to me if I get Choi Seungcheol himself as a present, you giggled, adjusting his hair that had been displaced. Before he could say anything more, he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket, trying to ignore it as much as possible, only to give in when he remembered there was a plan in place and he didn’t want to incur the wrath of those who planned tonight.

Gently taking your hand in his again, he pulled you down the hall out to his car. Opening the car door for you, he quickly made his way around to jump into the driver’s seat before heading off to the party. Your fingers played with his free hand as the soft sound of music played throughout his car. Never did he think that he would be able to call you his, well he couldn’t quite yet, but he knew by the end of the night that he would officially ask you to be his forever. Warmth spread in his chest as you laced your fingers with his, shifting them to your lap as you looked out the window at the passing nightlife of Seoul.

For a moment, panic takes over and you don’t know what to do. But as soon as you hear his knuckles knocking on the wood, you finally snap into action: you quickly get rid of the pregnancy test and hide it somewhere Wonwoo would never find it, not even by chance.

“Baby, can I come in?” he asks. Even after years of living together, he’s still careful and respectful of your space.

“Um… Yeah! You can come in, honey,” you reply, your nerves completely on edge.Wonwoo opens the door and walks in casually, finding you sitting on the sink brushing your teeth. What he doesn’t know is that you’re trying your best to act normal and calm your racing heartbeat. Still, he finds it a bit odd how you keep avoiding his gaze and refusing to make eye contact. Even so, he doesn’t question you and simply leans in to kiss your forehead before grabbing his own toothbrush to do the same.

“How are you feeling this morning?” he asks with genuine interest, before bringing the toothbrush with toothpaste to his mouth.You take a moment to finish your oral hygiene routine and then answer his question.

“I’m better. The nausea and dizziness are gone. After I took that pill last night, I felt much calmer. I got up a while ago and didn’t feel anything strange,” you assure him, trying to sound as natural as possible. Of course, you left out the part where you woke up so early because of a sudden, intense urge to vomit. You also skipped mentioning the pregnancy test. He didn’t need to know that at least not yet.

“I’m going to prepare what we’re taking to the picnic. Seungcheol said we didn’t have to, but I know the others are planning to bring something too, because Mingyu told me days ago. So it wouldn’t feel right to show up empty-handed,” you complain, frowning in distaste just imagining the awkward situation. “While I take care of that, you can go shower and get ready,” you tell him as you start to leave the bathroom.

“What if we shower together instead? It’d be faster and I could come down to help you in the kitchen,” he suggests in a teasing tone, watching you through the mirror reflection.His deep voice and the intensity of his dark gaze make you shiver. You’re about to nod in agreement, but the reminder that an unconscious little intruder is now growing inside you fills you with fear, and you decide against it.

“No. We both know that when we shower together, we do anything but try to get out quickly,” you counter, pointing toward the shower cabin. And your words weren’t far from the truth. “Plus, I’d be embarrassed walking funny in front of the guys and having them ask what happened to me,” you add, narrowing your eyes at him while he pretends to be innocent about it.

“Alright, you win, my love,” he says with a defeated smile, raising both hands in surrender. You smile back, satisfied that he fell for your excuse. You don’t say anything else and reach for the door again, intending to finally leave the bathroom, but once more your beloved husband stops you. “Hey, baby, I didn’t mention this last night because you weren’t feeling well and went to bed early, but I was thinking about going to the cemetery after we spend time with the guys. I’d like you to come with me to take flowers to Mom.”

His invitation catches you off guard. Until now, you had only gone with him once, since he usually preferred to go alone or with his dad and younger brother.

“Okay, honey. I’ll go with you, gladly,” you reply, stepping closer to give him a quick kiss on the lips. “Now let me go or we’ll be late.”

With that final warning, you finally manage to escape. You sigh in relief once the door closes behind you, running both hands over your face to clear your mind. You grab your phone from the nightstand, pick it up, and head out of the bedroom toward the kitchen.

A while later…

The good thing about preparing something simple was that you finished quickly. You left your husband packing the containers into a bag while you went to shower.Once you were done, you started looking for something to wear. Everything was fine until you tried to put on a pair of jeans and they wouldn’t close. You were about to let out a string of curses when the possible reason why your clothes were starting to not fit crossed your mind.

“It’s only been a few weeks. You can’t possibly be taking up that much space in there already,” you grumble indignantly at the living being currently residing in your uterus. “Now I’ll have to wear a dress, and it’s all your fault.” You complain, clearly annoyed, and reluctantly head to your closet to find a summer dress.

Just as you finish slipping the light garment over your body, Wonwoo opens the bedroom door and walks in to let you know everything is ready and he’s just waiting for you so you can leave. Even though his words weren’t meant to pressure you, that’s how they felt, and it only heightened your already turbulent emotions.

“If you’re in such a hurry, just go without me,” you snap in the sharpest tone possible, leaving him frozen in place, confused and unable to understand what he had said to make you this angry.

He stands petrified at the doorway. A heavy, awkward silence settles between you as he tries to figure out if his words had really come across as pressuring.

You deliberately ignore him and continue getting ready, feeding the bad mood gnawing at you inside, though guilt quickly settles in your chest. You feel terrible for reacting so defensively when all he was trying to do was say something completely innocent.

After what feels like an eternity, Wonwoo gently clears his throat.

“I’ll wait for you in the car, baby. Take all the time you need, there’s no rush,” he murmurs calmly. Without another word, he leaves, once again leaving you alone with your thoughts.

As soon as you hear his footsteps fade away, you let out a long, heavy sigh. You go to get your sandals, leave them within reach, and put on some light accessories before doing a bit of makeup. While your hands work on autopilot in front of the mirror, your mind is already rehearsing a proper apology. You hated being rude to him, especially when he had always given you nothing but love, respect, and treated you like a true queen.

You place one hand on your abdomen and, in a very soft voice, speak to the small, unknown life inside you : “It’s your fault I just snapped at the person who loves me most in this world… and who I’m sure is going to adore you too once he knows you’re in here,” you murmur with affectionate annoyance, almost pouting at someone who has no idea what’s really happening.

Once you’re finished getting ready, you grab your bag, your sandals in the other hand, and finally leave the room. You head downstairs and confirm that your husband has already taken the things from the kitchen out to the car.You take the opportunity to grab a couple of special items you want to bring to his mother’s grave and pick up the house keys.

You’re just about to walk out when a fleeting but impossible-to-ignore thought suddenly hits you with full force.

From inside the car, Wonwoo watches you through the windshield, completely confused as he sees you stop with the door half open and then suddenly hurry back into the house. You rush upstairs to do something quick and come back down a minute later. He sees you come out again, calmly put on your sandals on the porch, lock the door, and finally walk toward the car. Once you get in, he leans over to buckle your seatbelt with his usual gentleness. But before he can sit back, you wrap both arms around his neck, stopping him from pulling away. His body tenses for a second in surprise, but you quickly speak in a soft, low voice:

“I’m so sorry, honey… I didn’t mean to speak to you like that earlier. I was just a little irritated and took it out on you. I really am sorry.” You offer him a sincere apology. As he listens, the tension in Jeon’s shoulders completely melts away.

He reaches out to caress your leg over the light summer dress, then cups your face with both hands and brings his lips to yours. It’s a deep, slow, lingering kiss, the kind that makes you melt, completely captivated by the man in front of you. He even smiles when he hears the soft sigh that escapes you as you kiss him back. Then pulls away gently and leaves a sweet little kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Don’t worry, my love. It did catch me by surprise, but I wasn’t upset with you. I understand you were probably overwhelmed by everything you did since early this morning and the pressure of going to a social event. These things happen,” he assures you with an understanding look. You smile, touched by his endless patience and maturity.

Tough, your smile tenses a little as you secretly remember the real reason behind your emotional imbalance. You give his cheek a gentle caress followed by a quick peck on the lips, then straighten up. Wonwoo settles into the driver’s seat, starts the engine, and pulls away, beginning the drive to where the rest of the guys are already waiting.

The drive passes in a cozy calm. Soft music plays from the stereo, creating a serene atmosphere that matches the steady movement of the car. Jeon drives with his usual quiet ease, keeping one hand intertwined with yours on the gear shift thumb against thumb in a gesture as everyday as it is intimate. Outside the window, the scenery rolls by in shades of green and morning light, simply beautiful.

The road is remarkably flat, with no sharp curves or bumps, so it makes no logical sense for a sudden wave of nausea to settle in your stomach. You choose not to say anything. You shift a little more against the seat, close your eyes for a few seconds, and try to find a comfortable position, convincing yourself it will pass soon… even though deep down you know exactly why it’s happening. By the time you finally arrive and Wonwoo turns off the engine, the silence inside the car feels a bit heavier. He soon turns to look at you.

“Is something wrong? You seem a little off… Do you need anything?” he asks softly, searching your eyes with concern.

“I’m fine, really. Maybe I just need to eat something soon, or the car ride didn’t sit well with me,” you reply, giving him a small smile and trying to sound normal.Wonwoo watches you in silence for a couple of seconds.

You can practically see the gears turning in his mind. He knows you too well to miss that something isn’t quite right. He senses something is on your mind, but he doesn’t want to press you or ruin the moment right before joining everyone. Without pushing further for now, he gets out of the car, walks around the front, and opens your door. He offers his hand to help you out with extreme care.

“Are you sure you don’t want a minute before we go in? Once we’re inside with everyone, it’s going to be chaos,” he murmurs with a slight smirk, checking your face again.

Instead of answering with words, you step closer and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest to look up at him. He immediately wraps you in his arms, pulling you against him. For a moment, the two of you stay like that, gazing into each other’s eyes and silently acknowledging the emotions you’re both carrying though the source and intensity of yours are completely different from his.

“I’m okay, my love. Really… thank you for being so attentive,” you insist sweetly, rubbing his back in an attempt to reassure him. He lets out a resigned but tender sigh and leans down to place a warm, lingering kiss on your forehead.

At that exact moment, the sound of another engine interrupts. A car parks just a few meters away. Junhui steps out with his wife and their two children: the older one and the youngest, a baby girl named Meilin. Smiles appear instantly as they realize how long this reunion has been overdue. Wonwoo walks over to greet Jun and exchanges a few words with the little boy while they start unloading things from both cars. Meanwhile, Jun’s wife comes straight to you for a warm hug, carrying little Meilin nestled in her arms. As her godmother, your eyes light up when you see the girl and you naturally reach out for her, as you always do.

“Come here, beautiful!” you say affectionately. But to your surprise, Meilin suddenly shrinks back against her mother’s shoulder.It doesn’t seem like she doesn’t recognize you. Rather, your mere closeness seems to deeply upset her. The moment you try to get a little closer to hold her, the baby starts whimpering, squirms uncomfortably in her mom’s arms, and desperately reaches her tiny hands toward Junhui. He quickly steps over and takes her to calm her down.

“That’s weird… She always gets along so well with you. I don’t know what got into her,” Jun comments, holding his daughter against his chest and gently patting her back.

“Kids have their days sometimes. I’m sure she’ll be fine in a bit,” his wife replies, looking a little embarrassed by her daughter’s behavior.

You simply smile understandingly and say it’s okay, but inside, your stomach flips. You remember that old myth about babies and animals being able to sense a new life before anyone else. Your gaze discreetly drops for a second to your abdomen, confirming the secret you’re carrying. No one pays much attention to that detail, and so everyone prepares to go inside.

But before you can move toward the entrance, a familiar commotion sounds in the distance. Soonyoung arrives with his little family, making his usual loud and energetic entrance, with his kids running alongside his chaos. Almost at the same time, Joshua arrives with his wife, and Seokmin with his fiancée. It seems you’re the last to join, because by the time you finally walk through the doors of the country club, the rest of the guys and their families are already settled.

The greeting is a beautiful mix of tight hugs, booming laughter, and overlapping conversations. The reason for the gathering is simple and ordinary: a group of longtime friends and colleagues who just want to catch up, reminisce about old times, and share the present with the special people who are now part of their lives.

Seungkwan and Seokmin waste no time starting the first round of jokes and uncontrollable laughter. In the middle of all the festive chaos, Wonwoo doesn’t let go of your hand for a single second. Everyone knows you well and there’s deep trust in the group, but the way he keeps you close feels almost instinctive, subtly making sure you feel comfortable at all times.

Little by little, everyone settles into the grassy area they had reserved. Picnic blankets are spread out, spaces filled with homemade dishes, fresh fruit, desserts, and drinks passed from hand to hand. The atmosphere becomes light and warm, filled with constant jokes, years of camaraderie, and genuine laughter echoing under the open sky.

The two of you were sitting together on the blanket, enjoying the gentle sun. Very close by were Mingyu, his wife who was sporting a very noticeable advanced pregnancy and their first child. While your husband and Mingyu chatted animatedly, catching up on everything, Yerin shared some of her pregnancy stories with you. You asked plenty of questions, genuinely interested in every detail of how she was feeling. No one suspected a thing; after all, you had always been just as curious with the other wives in the group during their previous pregnancies.

At some point later in the conversation, Yerin insisted you try some of the homemade kimchi Mingyu had prepared, swearing it turned out spectacular. You accepted with a polite smile, holding the container while handing her some of the meat you had made before leaving. When the two men noticed the exchange, they turned their attention toward you.

That was exactly when Wonwoo noticed. The moment the tray with kimchi was in your hands, all the color drained from your face. A pale tint washed over your skin, and you had to make a superhuman effort to suppress a treacherous gag that threatened to rise in your throat. Unable to hide it any longer, you quickly handed the tray back to him and stood up in a hurry, slipping your sandals on awkwardly.

“I forgot my phone in the car… I’m going to get it so I can take some pictures,” you excused yourself in a rushed voice. Without waiting for a reply, you practically fled toward the exit of the country club.

Yerin watched the path where you had just disappeared, then turned to your husband, puzzled. “Is everything okay with her? She seemed a bit off… or maybe it’s just my imagination.”

“She’s been a little sick since yesterday. But this morning she woke up feeling better and assured me she was well enough to come,” he answered calmly, trying not to raise any suspicions.

Mingyu, who had been quietly observing the scene while chewing, tilted his head and asked, half-joking but also genuinely curious: “And you’re sure it’s just a sickness? Or could it be something else?”

Wonwoo visibly tensed. His heart lurched violently as Mingyu’s words hit exactly on the suspicion he had been quietly carrying all day. “I’m going to check on her,” he declared without hesitation, excusing himself immediately and standing up.

When he reached the parking lot of the country club, he didn’t find you near the car. He walked a few steps further and spotted you coming out of a more secluded, discreet area. Your face was pale, your forehead covered in a light sweat, and your breathing was heavy. The world dropped from under his feet the moment he saw you in such a vulnerable state. Anguish tightened his chest, and he instinctively closed the distance between you in long strides.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What’s happening?” he asked, his eyes scanning you for any sign.

“I really needed to throw up. I’ve been holding it in for a while and couldn’t anymore,” you murmured, your voice breaking with exhaustion. Wonwoo didn’t say a single word in response.

Instead, without hesitation, he gently gathered you in his arms, carrying you so you wouldn’t have to walk. He took you straight to the car, opened the back door, and sat you carefully on the edge. Then he leaned in to search for your bag on the floor. He knew exactly what you always carried with you, so he carefully rummaged until he found your usual cloth handkerchief, the small portable fan, and some mints. He returned to you, crouched down to your level, and faced you directly. With incredibly gentle movements, he wiped your face with the handkerchief, slipped a mint into your mouth, and then turned on the portable fan, directing the cool air toward your sweaty skin.

“Would you rather we go home?” he asked, searching your eyes with a look full of devotion and genuine concern. “If you’re not feeling well, we can leave right now. There’s nothing we need to force, and we don’t have to risk your comfort. Or if you want, we can go straight to the doctor so they can check you…” He raised one hand and felt your forehead for fever. When he confirmed your temperature was normal, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he cupped your cheek, cradling your face. You leaned into his touch, letting out a long sigh of relief at the unique comfort that only his contact could bring you in a moment when you were battling not only physical discomfort but also the whirlwind of emotions surrounding your secret.

Wonwoo softly stroked your skin with his thumb. He hesitated for a moment, but finally spoke in a whisper full of tenderness and absolute sincerity.

“My love… Please be honest with me. Tell me what’s really going on. Does this have anything to do with the pregnancy test you hid in the bathroom this morning?” He paused briefly, his eyes flicking down to your bag. “The same one you’re now carrying in here…”

You froze. Surprise, horror, and shame flashed across your face in milliseconds. You felt as if a bucket of cold water had been poured down your back at being caught, completely stunned and at a loss for words. He offered you a small, closed-lip smile, looking slightly apologetic about how everything had come to light.

“I admire so much the effort you made today trying to handle something this overwhelming and much bigger than you on your own,” he continued, breaking the silence before panic could take over. “I respect your fear, because I know exactly how terrifying this is for you. But I would have loved to find out because you chose to tell me because you wanted to share what you were feeling with me… not because I found something you clearly didn’t want me to see.” He moved a little closer, still caressing your face.

“I’ve known since this morning. Actually… I suspected it even before you did, a few days ago. I just didn’t want to say anything because I know how difficult this topic is for you and how much the idea of motherhood has always scared you. But you’re not alone in this. You have me. I’m the dad of this baby, and I’m also your husband.”

Hearing his words, the heavy weight on your shoulders finally crumbled. You instinctively leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in the crook of his shoulder, seeking refuge.Without a second’s hesitation, he held you firmly. With a smooth, careful movement, he shifted positions: he sat where you had been and gently pulled you onto his lap. He pressed you against his chest and began rubbing your back with slow, soothing strokes.The silence stretched for several seconds, dense but strangely comforting until you finally stopped hiding.

You lifted your head to look at him and, in a whisper laced with slight frustration, asked: “How did you find it? I… was sure I had hidden it well.” Wonwoo let out a soft, deep chuckle. There was no mockery in it, only pure tenderness at the little disappointed pout on your face.

“Hiding it at the bottom of the clean towels drawer wasn’t your brightest plan. I just went to grab a towel to dry my face and saw the edge sticking out. I picked it up and… well, I saw the result,” he revealed with a spark of amusement, giving your hip a light squeeze. You closed your eyes and pressed your lips together in pure bewilderment before burying your face in his neck again. He chuckled once more, patting your back lovingly, though his tone grew much softer when he admitted, “I got a little scared at first too, you know? Seeing that clear, real result. But then I thought about how you felt last night, your strange behavior this morning, everything… and all the pieces fell into place. I wanted to wait for you to tell me, to give you your space. But when I saw you feeling so bad out here, I just couldn’t hold back anymore without knowing how you really were.”

You let out a long sigh and pulled back just enough to look him straight in the eyes.

“Wonu… yes, I’m pregnant,” you finally admitted out loud, letting the words take life in the air. And suddenly everything felt more real than ever. “But I really didn’t know how to process it at first. I panicked and thought the easiest thing was to hide it until I could figure out what to do. Though now I know that was really silly of me. Because you’re right it’s your baby too, and you’re my husband… I shouldn’t have hidden something so important from you, like the fact that we’re going to be parents. I’m sorry for reacting like that.”

Wonwoo gently shook his head and cradled your cheek. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. Everything is okay between us,” he assured you, a sincere smile lighting up his eyes and making the atmosphere feel much lighter. “I’m really grateful you’re telling me now. Because, to be honest… I’m incredibly excited about this. I was just trying to be patient and discreet because I know what this means to you.”

This time it was you who let out a soft laugh, the first genuine one all day. You shifted to straddle his lap so you could hug him tighter, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body against his. He returned the hug eagerly, holding you close to his chest as both of you released a sigh of pure relief.

“I love you so much, Jeon Wonwoo. I really do,” you murmured against his skin, kissing his jaw.

“And I love you, with all my soul,” he replied close to your ear, pulling you even closer. Then he pulled back just enough to look at you properly. “But this conversation doesn’t end here, okay? When we get home, we’ll sit down and talk calmly about everything: medical check-ups, monthly appointments, and the steps we’re going to take. Together, the way it should be.”

You nodded immediately. For the first time in hours, the idea of motherhood didn’t feel like a terrifying abyss. And then your heart literally melted as you watched him slowly lean down, his gaze dropping to your body. With a reverence that took your breath away, he lifted the fabric of your summer dress just enough to reach your abdomen. There, he placed several gentle kisses, tracing a warm path over your navel while caressing the subtle curve with his fingertips. He looked genuinely adorable like this, loving you and loving this little creation of his. He was happy, truly happy, and you could feel it. It was beautiful. It made you wonder how you could possibly be scared of something so wonderful? especially when this was your husband and his reaction.

After a good while of cuddles, caresses, and comforting words, you both straightened up a little and returned to the country club. The rest of the afternoon went wonderfully; the physical discomfort had eased, and the heaviness in your chest had completely disappeared.

Near the end of the gathering, while everyone was sharing dessert, Wonwoo held your hand firmly and they decided to share the big news. The reaction was a genuine explosion of joy. The guys made a beautiful commotion: there were tight hugs, congratulations mixed with laughter, and a wave of jokes directed at Wonwoo for officially joining the group’s “dad line.”

Later, amid well wishes, recommendations for a healthy pregnancy, and affectionate goodbyes, the lively gathering came to an end. Now you were heading back in the car, the atmosphere inside completely peaceful. You rested your head against the seat and, without anxiety or fear stirring inside you, fell deeply asleep, lulled by the soft hum of the engine and Wonwoo’s free hand gently caressing your abdomen. However, it wasn’t a very long rest. When you opened your eyes, the car was already parked. Looking out the window, you immediately recognized the place: you were at the memorial columbarium where your husband’s mother’s ashes rested.

“We’re here, baby,” he told you in a calm voice as he unbuckled his seatbelt. He got out, walked around the car, and opened your door, warmly offering his hand to help you out.

You walked together, fingers intertwined, through the silent and solemn hallways of the building. The atmosphere was serene, lit by warm lights and surrounded by small urns protected behind glass cases. He guided you effortlessly to his mother’s memorial niche. Once in front of the glass plaque, you opened your bag and took out the special items you had prepared with so much care: a small bouquet of fresh flowers and an artificial candle. He looked at you with infinite tenderness and kissed your forehead before helping you arrange the offerings in the niche. Then he gazed at the photograph of his mother behind the glass.

“Hi, Mom…” he greeted softly, briefly resting his hand on the glass as if caressing her face in the photo. “I hope you’re well, wherever you are. I came to visit you, just like I originally planned. But it turns out I’m also bringing you some very special news.”

He turned slightly toward you, wrapped his arm around your waist, and pulled you to his side. His hand easily covered the subtle curve marked under your dress. He also gave you a quick kiss on the crown of your head.

“We’re going to be parents. This wonderful woman beside me is carrying our little baby, and that makes me happier than words can say. I want to ask you to please watch over us from up there… especially this little person who is now joining our family. And who will come to say hello once they’re here with us.”

You also leaned slightly toward the glass case, offering your mother-in-law some sweet and sincere words, promising to take care of her son and the new life on the way. Wonwoo gave her a summary of how his younger brother and dad were doing, and how they still remembered her with the greatest love. The moment was filled with pure, transparent emotion.

Eventually, after a few final minutes of respectful silence, you said your goodbyes and slowly walked back toward the exit.

Once outside, under the afternoon sky beginning to tint with orange hues, Wonwoo stopped and pulled you into a long, deep embrace, breathing in the scent of your hair.

“Thank you, my love…” he murmured, his voice thick with raw emotion. “Thank you for being my partner, for loving me the way you do, for always taking care of me, and for giving me the most beautiful honor in the world, becoming a dad by your side.”

You smiled against his chest, feeling your heart fill with absolute fullness. You rose onto your tiptoes to reach his lips.

“Thank you. For being exactly the incredible person you are.”

He smiled against your lips, sealing the promise of a shared future with a slow, sweet, unhurried kiss as the evening breeze wrapped around you in a perfect moment.

You’d been rotting all day, feeling heavy for no particular reason. It’s not that anything bad happened; it was just one of those days when you wanted to cry. Like you woke up, and the world decided that happiness wasn’t on your radar for the foreseeable future. 

When you hear Chan come back from practice, you feel the day's fatigue quickly catch up to you. Lifting yourself from bed, you trudge down the hall and around the corner to find him taking off his shoes. His hair falls in his face, and you can see the little bit of sweat beading across his forehead from dancing. The hoodie he left the house in this morning is now discarded, tossed over his shoulder. You shift slightly from where you stand, the floorboards creaking underneath you.

Chan lifts his head to smile and say hello, but it immediately falters. “Hey baby, you okay?”

All you can manage is shaking your head ‘no’. It takes your boyfriend all but ten seconds to finish taking off his shoes and cross over to you. The second his arms are around you, you bury your face in his chest and finally cry. Chan quietly runs his fingers through your hair, just letting you feel and be in the moment. He’s always like that: just a steady, constant figure for you. Always strong when you can’t seem to be. 

As your crying slows, you pull away, wiping the tears from your cheeks. Chan presses a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks quietly. He’s tucking your hair behind your ears, giving you space to speak if you feel inclined. 

You lift your eyes to meet his gaze. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m just sad. I don’t know. It feels silly.”

“No.” He shakes his head quickly. “Not silly. Sometimes feelings just work that way. What do you want to do to feel better? Comfort food and a movie?”

You sniffle, then wrap your arms around him. He rubs your back lovingly, as you think about what to do. 

“I guess ramyeon sounds good.” You mumble into his shirt. “Can we just eat and lie in bed?”

“You bet.” He replies, giving you another quick kiss on the top of your head. “We can do anything you’d like. Let me shower, and I’ll get started on the food. Okay?”

When you don’t budge, Chan laughs lightly. “You’re not going to let me go, huh?”

“Not yet.” You reply, lifting your head to meet his gaze. 

He smiles warmly, pressing his lips gently against yours. 

“Don’t worry,” he hums. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” 

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You were too busy describing the cat’s little white socks.

“So then I was like, ‘Hi baby, do you have a home?’ and she—”

He made a low, strangled noise.

You blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, but his jaw was tight and he was biting the inside of his cheek like he was physically restraining himself.

His free hand came up to pinch your cheek gently, then not so gently, squishing the soft skin between his fingers.

“Cheollie, I’m trying to tell you about the cat—”

“You’re killing me,” he groaned, voice rough.

“You’re actually going to kill me.”

You tilted your head, confused and a little pleased.

“What did I do?”

“You’re talking with the hoodie paws. You’re using voice cracks. You called a stray cat ‘baby’ in that voice.”

He sat up suddenly, pulling you closer by the ankles until you were half in his lap.

“You’re being so fucking cute I can’t breathe.”

Your face heated. “I’m just talking—”

“Exactly.”

He cupped your cheeks with both hands now, thumbs brushing your skin almost reverently. His eyes flicked all over your face like he couldn’t decide where to look your sparkling eyes, your slightly puffed cheeks, the way your lips kept moving even as he held you. “You talk too much and it’s lethal. I’m having cuteness aggression. Medical emergency.”

You giggled, trying to squirm away half-heartedly.

“You’re so dramatic—”

He cut you off with a kiss.

Not a soft one. Not the gentle little peck he usually gave you when you were being silly.

This was sudden and deep and hungry, like he’d been holding back for the last ten minutes and finally snapped.

His lips moved against yours with purpose, one hand sliding to the back of your neck to tilt your head just right.

You made a surprised little sound that only seemed to make it worse.

“Cheol—” you tried to say between kisses, but he swallowed it, kissing you harder. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you fully into his lap until your knees bracketed his thighs.

The hoodie rode up your legs and his warm palm slipped underneath, resting possessively against the bare skin of your lower back.

“You’re so cute it hurts,” he mumbled against your mouth, barely pulling away enough to speak.

“Every time you get excited like that… fuck, I just want to kiss you stupid.”

“Then do it,” you whispered, dizzy and grinning.

He did.

The next kiss was slower but no less intense tongue brushing yours, teeth grazing your bottom lip, the kind of makeout that made your fingers curl into his hair and tug. He groaned softly at the pull, the sound vibrating through you.

One of his hands slid up your spine under the hoodie while the other stayed on your cheek, thumb stroking like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, foreheads pressed together.

“Hi,” you said softly, a little breathless, cheeks burning.

Seungcheol’s eyes were dark, lips kiss-swollen, but the fond smile that broke across his face was pure sunshine. He squished your cheeks again, gentler this time, and planted three rapid little kisses on your puckered lips.

“My baby,” he murmured, voice wrecked.

“My cute, talkative, lethal baby. Keep talking. I’ll just keep kissing you every time I can’t handle it anymore.”

You laughed, bright and giddy, and leaned in to kiss him again soft this time, sweet, the kind of kiss that tasted like promises and quiet nights in.

He smiled against your mouth, arms tightening around you like he never planned on letting go.

Outside, the city kept moving, but in here it was just you, his favorite hoodie, and Seungcheol’s endless, adorable, slightly feral love.

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You don’t know why you pause. Maybe it’s the way the early light spills across his face, casting faint shadows along the bridge of his nose and his sharp jawline. Or maybe it’s the way he seems entirely detached from the rush around him, earphones in, lost in something only he can hear.

He wears a brown high-neck sweater, the kind that looks soft even from a distance. One hand is tucked into his pocket, the other wrapped around the strap of a worn black backpack. His expression is unreadable—not bored, not impatient, just… distant.

You don’t think he notices you.

It’s silly, the way you keep looking. He’s just another passenger, someone you’ll probably never speak to, never know. But still, you watch him for a moment longer, as if memorizing this version of the morning before the spell breaks.

A man steps in front of you, shifting to adjust his briefcase. The moment lasts only a second, but when you glance back.

He’s gone.

You blink, scanning the space where he had been, but now, it’s empty.

For some reason, the thought lingers as the train lurches forward. You shake it off, exhaling softly. It’s nothing. Just another passing commuter, another stranger among many others.

As you grip the pole tightly, you wonder

Will he be here tomorrow?

DAY 2

The train doors slide open with a mechanical sigh, and you step in. Your usual spot is taken today by an older woman clutching a canvas tote, her head tilted forward in light sleep. So you move a little further down, fingers curling around the overhead rail.

And then you see him. You don’t mean to look, not really. But there he is again, standing in the exact same place as yesterday — leaning against the glass panel near the doors, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. Today, a book rests in his grip, fingers idly turning a page as his gaze flickers across the words.

You wonder, briefly, if he ever misses his stop. If he ever gets so lost in thought that he forgets where he’s going.

The thought lingers for a second too long.

A jolt in the tracks sends the train swaying, and you glance away quickly, feeling oddly self-conscious. It’s nothing. Just another passenger in the sea of strangers.

And yet, when you step off at your stop, you catch yourself glancing back. Just once.

_

DAY 10

It’s been ten days since you first saw him. Ten mornings of stepping onto the same train, gripping the same pole, and watching him from the corner of your eye.

Every day, he’s there — leaning against the glass panel, the same sky-blue book in his hands, which makes you wonder if he ever really reads it. His hands are always in his pockets; sometimes, his gaze turns toward the window.

You don’t know when you start expecting to see him.

He’s just supposed to be another passenger, another face in the blur of morning commuters. But now… now, the moment you step onto the train, your eyes move without thinking, searching and waiting.

The next day comes like all the others. But lately, there’s one thing that makes the mornings feel less mundane. 

You find yourself on the platform, scanning the crowd before you even realize what you’re doing. Maybe you’ll never know his name, never exchange a single word, but that doesn’t stop your mind from conjuring a thousand possibilities, fleeting thoughts that leave you restless.

The train arrives with a familiar hum, and as you step inside, your eyes instinctively seek him out.

There he is.

Standing in his usual spot, clad in a high-neck sweater and loose-fitted trousers. But today, something is missing — his book.

Instead of reading, he simply watches the city blur past, his reflection faintly mirrored in the window. One hand is tucked into his pocket, the other grips the strap of a worn brown suitcase.

And then his head tilts slightly.

For a brief second, a flicker of something unfamiliar stirs in your chest.

Is he looking at you?

The thought unsettles you more than it should. Your fingers tighten around your phone as you glance away too quickly, pretending to check the screen. A silly reaction. He’s probably just lost in thought, staring past you like people often do.

Even as you tell yourself that, the feeling still lingers.

DAY 11

You’re not a superstitious person. You never believe what people say about black cats crossing your path bringing bad luck. On the contrary, you feel good things happen to you when you see a black cat.

And weirdly enough, the man on the train feels like your black cat. It’s not that he actually brings good luck. It’s just that your day seems a little better whenever you see him.

Today, you oversleep. Miss your alarm. Burn your toast. Everything feels five steps behind as you shove your shoes on and fly out the door, heart pounding at the thought of the impending scolding from your manager for being late.

You’re breathless. Disoriented. Out of rhythm.

The train is already at the platform by the time you arrive, and you squeeze in just before the doors seal shut.

But it’s okay, you think — as long as I see him.

And then, your gaze lifts instinctively.

He’s not there.

Your eyes dart across the carriage — once, twice, again. Nothing. Just faces you don’t recognize. None of them are him.

Your heart sinks, and it shouldn’t. You know it shouldn’t. People have lives. Schedules change. Trains get missed.

Still, you lean your head against the glass, suddenly aware of how loud everything feels in his absence. The usual quiet thrill has dulled.

You spend the ride staring out the window. Trying to mimic the way he does it. Trying to imagine what he sees in the blur of grey buildings and sleepy streets.

It doesn’t work.

You get off at your stop and walk a little slower.

Funny, how much space a stranger can take up in your head.

_

DAY 13

Today, you see him again. And somehow, that alone makes you feel like the day might not be so bad after all.

You can’t find a seat in the morning rush, so you claim a spot near the door, your shoulder resting against the cool glass panel.

Just like any other day, he enters.

Today, he’s in a dark blue satin shirt tucked neatly under a black trench coat. He takes his usual place across from you, setting his suitcase down by his foot before pulling out the same sky-blue book he reads every day.

You squint slightly to catch the title — Ikigai. You make a quiet mental note to buy it later.

The train halts at the next station, and a new wave of commuters pours in. The space tightens. You try to brace yourself, but the crowd pushes you forward.

Your shoulder bumps into someone — him.

You freeze, flustered, about to apologize when he looks up from his book.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice deep and smooth like velvet.

You nod, maybe a little too quickly, mumbling a quiet thanks before turning your face away, hoping the heat on your cheeks isn’t too obvious.

And then he smiles. A perfect little curve that deepens into a dimple.

Oh man.

If you weren’t in deep before — you are now.

DAY 20

It takes a whole twenty days for him to finally notice you.

Like any other day, he enters the train and occupies his spot near the door. This time, you happen to be standing beside him. Like clockwork, he pulls out the book, slides the bookmark free, and holds it between two fingers; eyes moving smoothly over the pages.

The train screeches to an abrupt stop between stations, and the lights overhead flicker once before settling into a dim, humming glow.

Around you, the usual groans begin. A man sighs dramatically. Someone taps their foot like it might make the train move faster. The lady next to you mutters something under her breath about being late again.

The volume of your earphones must be louder than you think, because he looks at you and asks, “Laufey?”

You let out a sigh, glance at your watch to check the time, and look up instinctively because he’s here today too.

Just in time, his gaze lifts and finds yours. The corner of his mouth quirks up, and you can’t help it — you smile back.

Not entirely sure he’s talking to you, you pull out one earbud and mumble, “Sorry?”

He gives a little smile before repeating the question — and god, that damn smile will be the end of you.

You don’t put your earphones back in. Somehow, it feels rude now. Your gaze flickers around the coach, searching for something, anything to keep the conversation going.

“Ikigai! I’ve read it. It’s nice,” you blurt out, nodding toward the book in his hand.

“Really?” he says, sounding pleasantly surprised. “I haven’t met many people who really understand it. It’s nice to find someone who appreciates it. What part did you like the most?”

Idiot. Why would you say that? 

You haven’t even finished the book. You bought it on a whim, sure — but gave up halfway through because it was too dense for your brain to grasp at 10 p.m. on a work night.

“Uhh… the… the living part.”

What the hell does that even mean? Could you make a bigger fool of yourself?

“That’s… interesting,” he replies, polite but clearly unconvinced. You can feel the moment your credibility starts slipping away.

“I mean, I really like the concept behind it,” you add quickly, grasping at straws. “You know, the idea of ‘the happiness of always being busy’… things like that.”

You let out a nervous laugh, hoping it masks the rising panic. He’s still looking at you, curious. That unnerving kind of silence that feels like he’s trying to decide whether you’re genuinely insightful or completely full of it.

Just when you’re about to change the subject or fake a sudden phone call, he smiles again. A little smaller this time. Softer.

“That is a nice thought,” he says, his voice warm now. “I think that’s what I liked too.”

You blink. He’s letting you off the hook?

Relief floods through you, and you feel yourself relax just a little, your shoulders easing out of the tense shrug you didn’t even realize you were holding.

“You probably understood it better than I did, though,” you say with a sheepish grin.

“Maybe,” he says with a shrug, “but I haven’t finished it either.”

“You’re evil,” you mutter under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

You stare at him, stunned for a beat — then laugh.

Of course he hasn’t. Of course he let you sweat for a full minute before throwing you a lifeline.

He chuckles, and the sound settles somewhere low in your chest.

For the rest of the ride, you don’t put your earphones back in.

DAY 30

You finally get to know his name. Seungcheol.  It suits him, you think.

You’ve started greeting each other every time you meet. You don’t talk much, just small conversations here and there about your day, the weather, or whatever comes up.

At some point, you admit you gave up on Ikigai because it was a bit too complex for your “small brain,” as you put it. He laughs at that. Really laughs but ever since, he’s taken to explaining parts of the book to you whenever you meet.

And you can’t help but think… if you’d known him during your college years, you probably would’ve passed every exam with flying colors.

You find out that he works in finance and surprisingly, his office is near yours. The revelation makes you wonder why he never gets off at the same station as you, but you don’t ask.

Some things feel too delicate to question just yet.

One morning, you notice a small Captain America keychain dangling from the zipper of his suitcase — a new addition. Curious, you ask if he likes Marvel.

He laughs, shaking his head. “My nephew stuck it on and insisted I keep it. I haven’t really watched many of the movies.”

You gasp dramatically, loud enough that a few passengers turn to look. “You’ve never watched Marvel?!”

He winces, grinning. “Maybe one or two? I don’t remember much.”

From that moment on, your train rides take on a new rhythm. You start explaining the entire Marvel storyline, movie by movie, diving into characters and chaotic timelines, your hands animated and your eyes bright with excitement.

And Seungcheol? He listens. Really listens — eyes on you, smile tugging at the corners of his lips, occasionally asking questions or teasing you gently when your passion makes you trip over your own words.

_

DAY 40

Lately, Seungcheol starts getting off at the same station as you.

The first time it happens, you shoot him a curious glance, unsure if it’s just a coincidence. But when it happens again, and then again, you can’t help but ask.

“Sorry if it seems like I’m intruding, but… why didn’t you get off at the earlier station?” you ask, brows slightly raised.

Today, as the train slows to your stop, you notice he doesn’t move toward the doors like he usually does.

Instead, he waits beside you.

He catches your glance and smiles casually. “I used to get off early to grab coffee. Their brews were the best I’ve ever had.”

“So… no coffee today?”

He shrugs, hands tucked in his coat pockets. “I woke up early to get it before the train. That way, I could ride with you.”

Your heart thumps a little. Not enough to show on your face, but enough that you feel it in your throat.

You look away, trying to hide your smile.

“Ah… well,” you say lightly, “must be some really good coffee.”

“Second best part of my morning,” he replies without missing a beat.

DAY 46

Walks with Seungcheol are part of your routine now.

You used to drag yourself out of bed to start the day, but lately, you wake up on your own even before your alarm rings.

You learn he has a dog. Kkuma. A pretty little Coton de Tuléar with soft white fur and a habit of stealing the spotlight. He goes on evening runs with her every Sunday, and almost without fail, he sends you a picture afterward. Kkuma, dressed in a tiny hoodie or a frilly bow.

At some point, the two of you exchange numbers. It starts with simple texts — “I reached safely” and “See you tomorrow” — but quickly grows into something more.

Now, you text nearly every day, even though you see each other just as often.

And while Kkuma is adorable, you can’t help but zoom in just a little to catch a glimpse of the man holding the leash, his messy sunday hair. The hint of a smile he doesn’t realize he’s wearing.

__

It’s pouring today.

You’re already halfway to the subway when the first drops begin to fall. Too light to worry about, at least at first so you keep walking, brushing damp hair from your face as the drizzle picks up.

Seungcheol boards the train two stops after yours. And the moment he enters, his eyes scan the crowd searching until he sees you. Then he makes his way over.

You talk about your weekends — easy conversation, soft laughter. It makes the ride feel quicker than usual.

When you step out of the station, you realize you forgot to check the weather. The rain’s still coming down, steady and unrelenting. You don’t have an umbrella.

Seungcheol, like some savior from a drama scene, wordlessly opens his umbrella and holds it over your head. You offer to carry it, but he refuses. So you ask to hold his suitcase instead.

But a few steps later, he stops. With his right hand, he adjusts the umbrella and then with his left, gently pulls you closer, tucking you beneath the canopy again.

You walk side by side, shoulders brushing now and then.

After the third time, you shift slightly away, not wanting to invade his space.

Your arm brushes his.

“If you get sick,” he says, eyes forward, voice casual, “who am I supposed to go to work with?”

You don’t say anything, just look up at him and smile. But you don’t move away either.

DAY 50

You and Seungcheol start growing closer.

It isn’t just morning walks anymore. Sometimes, you stop by a café after work, sit across from each other with drinks in hand and talk about everything and nothing. You walk home together too, shoulders bumping every now and then, especially when the sidewalk narrows.

If one of you is running late, the other waits—no matter how crowded the station gets.

Even the metro rides become something you look forward to. You talk about dinner plans or what shows you’re binge-watching. Some days you just share a playlist, sitting in companionable silence as the train rocks gently beneath your feet.

The evenings are always busier than the mornings. Too crowded to sit together, too loud to talk. So you both end up standing on either side of the door, listening to the same song through your AirPods, synced through Bluetooth. It becomes a little ritual.

Still, you hate the space between you.

It’s silly. Just a few feet. But Seungcheol has this quiet warmth to him—like being near him makes the train feel less suffocating, the day a little lighter. And on the days when the coach is packed and you have to stand apart, you miss that.

Then, one day, you fish into your bag and pull out your wired earphones instead.

Seungcheol notices immediately. “What happened to the other ones?”

“Oh… um, they broke,” you say, not really looking at him.

He doesn’t ask anything else. Just smiles and reaches for one side of the wire, placing the left earbud in his ear while you take the right.

You stand side by side that day, close enough that your arms touch. Close enough to hear him hum under his breath. And when the train jolts forward suddenly, he reaches out instinctively to steady you—fingers curling briefly around your wrist before letting go.

Neither of you say anything about it. You just stand there, sharing music.

And somehow, the ride home feels shorter than ever.

That night, after dinner and a long shower, you flop onto your bed and reach for your phone.

No messages.

You stare at the screen for a moment before opening your playlist—the one you listened to with Seungcheol on the train.

You scroll down and tap on one song. The one that was playing when his fingers brushed yours.

You don’t think too much about it—you just send it to him. No caption. Just the link.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes.

Seungcheol [11:47 PM] good taste also… I liked this part the best [audio snippet attached]

You play it. It’s the chorus.

Your phone buzzes again.

Seungcheol [11:48 PM] reminds me of train rides and someone hogging the right earbud 👀

You smile, cheeks warming.

You [9:49 PM] i offered to switch sides you’re the one with territorial issues

Another reply, instantly.

Seungcheol [9:49 PM] fine, next time I’ll hold the wire hostage

You laugh, phone resting against your chest.

DAY 69

You don’t expect to see Seungcheol on a Sunday.

Today is supposed to be all about the Han River. There’s a lantern festival happening, something your friends have been buzzing about for weeks. If it were up to you, you’d spend the entire Sunday curled up on your couch, binge-watching Friends for the third time this year.

But your friends are determined. They show up at your apartment in full force, barging in with iced coffee and snacks. Apparently, they don’t trust you not to cancel again.

And honestly? Fair enough.

Last year, you claimed you had “urgent office work.” The year before that, you said your grandmother was sick and needed to be taken care of. 

(Sorry, Grandma. You’re doing great. I love you.)

So here you are dressed, dragged out, and mentally preparing yourself to be social for the next few hours.

Your group decides to head to the river early to avoid the crowds and grab lanterns before they sell out. After a long walk under the sun, everyone is tired and hungry, so you volunteer to run to the convenience store and grab some ramen.

What you don’t expect is to bump into Seungcheol doing the exact same thing.

And judging by the surprised look on his face, he doesn’t expect to see you either.

He lifts a hand in a small wave, his voice matching it in volume. “Hey.”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Jihyo appears at your side, arms full with four cans of beer.

“Oh, hello,” she says, giving Seungcheol a polite nod before turning to you. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, we go to work to—”

But Seungcheol doesn’t get the chance to finish.

“You go to work with someone?!” Jihyo gasps dramatically. “Wow, didn’t think you had friends outside of us.”

Before you can react, a blond-haired man strolls up to Seungcheol’s side.

“Cheol, there’s no space outside.”

“Then we’ll just sit here—” Seungcheol begins, but Jihyo is faster.

“You guys can join us!”

“Oh, that would be lovely,” the blond man grins. “Sitting with pretty ladies and eating good food? Count me in.”

“Jeonghan—” Seungcheol starts, but again, Jihyo cuts him off.

“This is going to be so fun!”

Just like that, she walks off with Jeonghan, chatting like they’ve known each other for years. You can’t help but envy her a little, for how effortlessly she talks to new people.

That leaves you and Seungcheol standing alone, both a little thrown off but smiling anyway.

You exchange a glance, share a quiet smile, then follow after the two of them, side by side.

By the time you all finish eating, the sun has dipped low in the sky. The festival is about to begin—lanterns being unpacked, children running around with glowing sticks, couples picking spots near the river.

You and Seungcheol haven’t talked much since the ramen store encounter. Not because anything is wrong, but because suddenly, things feel… different.

Awkward in a new way.

Even though you’ve known him for a while now, even though you’ve shared coffee, playlists, and half your mornings—something about seeing him here, outside your usual rhythm, throws you off.

You keep catching each other’s eyes and looking away just as quickly, only to glance back a moment later. Each time your eyes meet, he gives you a small smile. You return it, cheeks warm.

The boys couldn’t buy the lanterns because all sold out early, so you decided to share yours.

The six of you split into groups to light and lift the lanterns—Jihyo and Nayeon pair up, Jeonghan and Joshua team together, and that, of course, leaves you and Seungcheol.

You sit on the grass with the lantern between you, a set of markers in hand.

“Should I draw something meaningful or just… stars?” you ask, uncapping a pen.

“Stars are meaningful,” Seungcheol says, kneeling beside you.

You smile and begin sketching— tiny stars, a moon, a little ramen bowl in the corner for fun. Seungcheol adds a small Kkuma doodle near the bottom. Your hands brush once. Neither of you moves away.

When it’s finally time to lift the lantern, you both stand, holding it gently between you. Around you, dozens of lanterns floating into the sky, glowing orange and soft against the inky blue.

“Ready?” he asks, glancing at you not at the lantern.

You nod. “One, two, three…”

You let go.

And for a second, your gaze follows the lantern.

But his stays on you.

The sky is dark and clear, making every light stand out sharply. Lanterns float up one by one, glowing softly in warm shades of orange and gold. They move slowly, carried by the breeze, flickering light. The river below mirrors them perfectly, like the sky has dipped down to meet the water. It’s calm, almost still, just the soft rustle of grass and the low hum of people watching in silence.

The sky sparkles above you, but you feel the warmth of his eyes more than the lantern lights.

_

Later that night, back home, your phone buzzed with a message from Jihyo.

It was a photo.

You and Seungcheol standing shoulder to shoulder, watching the lantern rise. The light from the flame illuminated your faces, casting a glow that made the photo look straight out of the Tangled movie.

Then another message follows.

Jihyo [11:59 pm]  you & your lover boy 💗

You roll your eyes, already typing a response.

You [typing…] “it’s not like that—”

Before you could even hit send, another message pops up.

Jihyo [12:00 am]  “and don’t even try to say no. i’ve seen the way you look at each other.”

You stare at the screen, speechless.

Because, maybe you don’t really want to deny it.

DAY 70

Jihyo’s words stay with you the whole night. You keep reaching for your phone, opening it just to stare at that photo again. You don’t see it, the so-called look Seungcheol is giving you—not the way Jihyo describes it.

Still, it’s enough to keep you tossing and turning, caught between curiosity and denial.

When you wake up, there are faint dark circles under your eyes. You even stare at yourself in the mirror, wondering if it’s actually possible to get dark circles overnight.

You start your day later than usual. Not because you oversleep. No, you’ve been awake for a while—but because you’ve been trying to avoid Seungcheol. You time your routine to reach the station half an hour late, thinking—no, hoping he’s already gone.

You aren’t ready to face him. Not after everything in your head starts sounding like Jihyo’s voice.

But of course, life has other plans.

Seungcheol is still there—standing on the platform, eyes scanning the crowd like a puppy trying to find its owner. And when he finally spots you, his face lights up instantly. He waves too eagerly, too wide and jogs over to meet you.

“Oh! Seungcheol,” you say, caught off guard.

“Hey!” he grins. “I was this close to calling you.”

“Why didn’t you go?” you ask. “Won’t you be late?”

“It’s fine,” he shrugs. “Just a few minutes.”

“Seungcheol. I was thirty minutes late. That’s not just a few minutes.”

He smiles, almost like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I wanted to go with you.”

And just like that—your heart does that stupid thing again. The thing where it thumps in your chest a little too loudly, like it’s trying to remind you you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be.

You look away, down at your shoes, anywhere but at him.

Because Jihyo might’ve been wrong about the look. But you aren’t so sure about yours.

_

When it’s time to get off work, you make some excuse that you have to stay over longer because of some pending work and ask him to not wait for you.

To which he replies with a pout emoji and an ‘okay’ with it.

DAY 74

Over the next few days, you try to avoid him—subtly. At least, you think it’s subtle. But apparently, you aren’t as discreet as you’d hoped. Because on the third day, Seungcheol texts you, asking if you are avoiding him, if anything is wrong, or if he did something wrong.

You stare at the message for a long time, guilt creeping in.

You don’t mean to hurt him. Truly, you don’t. But the space helps. You need those few days to gather your thoughts, to figure out what’s going on inside your own head.

And somewhere in that quiet, you realize something.

You might actually like Seungcheol.

Not just the morning walks or the shared playlists or his little smile when your eyes meet. Him.

And now, all you can do is hope—really hope that Jihyo has been right all along about the way he looks at you.

So you decide not to avoid him anymore. And also maybe try to come clean about your feelings.

_

DAY 75

You wear your pink skirt and a white off-shoulder top today—the one Jihyo swears makes you look like an angel. You wake up extra early, wanting to take your time getting ready. Something different from your usual pencil skirt and tucked-in blouse. A little blush, soft liner, your favorite lip tint. Nothing too dramatic, but just enough to make you feel… pretty.

Because today, you decide. You are going to confess to Seungcheol.

You are nervous, no doubt about that. But mixed in with the nerves is something else—something bright and fluttery. A little thrill at the thought that this could be the day everything changes.

It feels like either the last day you’ll see Seungcheol as just a friend… or the last time you’ll ever see him.

When you reach the station, he’s already there. He hasn’t noticed you yet, which gives you a quiet moment to take him in.

He looks good. Too good for a regular weekday.

A crisp black shirt tucked into slate grey pants, sleeves rolled up just enough to show his forearms. His hair is slightly messy, like he’s been running his fingers through it while waiting. He has one hand in his pocket and the other holding a coffee, eyes scanning the platform casually.

You walk over and gently tap his shoulder.

He turns, smiling. “Hi—”

Then his eyes widen slightly, his smile freezing for a second before softening into something warmer.

“Woah… you look amazing. Is there any occasion today?” he asks. “Wait, is it your birthday?”

You shake your head, shy. “No. I just… felt like wearing this.”

He tilts his head slightly, still smiling. “Well, you look really pretty.”

You mutter a quiet thank you, cheeks already heating up. Before you can say anything more, the train arrives, pulling into the platform with a gust of wind and that familiar screech of brakes. You both step in together, falling into your usual routine—music, small talk, the shared comfort of standing close.

Later, as you walk out of the station toward your offices, Seungcheol glances over.

“Hey… would you mind coming with me somewhere after work?” he asks.

“Where?” you ask, surprised.

“I need to buy a gift. For someone.”

You blink. Is he buying something for you? But that doesn’t make sense. Why would he take you along to pick your own gift?

Still, you nod. “Sure.”

—

You manage to finish your work quickly and leave the office earlier than usual. Outside, leaning casually against the building wall, is Seungcheol—head tilted down, focused on his phone.

He looks effortlessly handsome. Same shirt from the morning, sleeves pushed up a little higher now, hair ruffled even more from the long day. He glances up as you walk over.

“Hey,” you greet, and he slides his phone into his pocket.

“Hey,” he replies, smiling like he’s been waiting for you.

You fall into step beside him, the two of you making your way to wherever this little errand of his will lead.

The shop is located on the corner of an alleyway. No wonder you’ve never seen it before. Inside, it’s small but cozy, filled with shelves lined with candles, handmade accessories, tiny notebooks, and other gift-y things that feel both thoughtful and random. Seungcheol walks ahead, scanning the displays carefully. You trail behind, heart beating just a little too fast.

He eventually makes his way to the counter and leans in slightly, speaking to the worker.

“Do you know what would be a good gift for a lady?” he asks, voice polite.

The worker looks up. “What age range are we talking about?”

“Around 25?” he replies casually.

You don’t wait to hear the rest.

You quickly turn away and wander to the far end of the shop, pretending to browse a shelf of overpriced bookmarks.

Your stomach drops.

Of course he’s taken. Why wouldn’t he be?

You feel like an idiot. A man this kind, this funny, this good-looking—how could he possibly be single? You scold yourself internally for even letting the idea of confessing take root.

You don’t know what you feel more—embarrassed that you almost made a move, or heartbroken that he’s already someone else’s.

Maybe you should be grateful. At least you haven’t actually said anything. You can still keep the friendship. Things can stay the same.

Right?

Even if all you want right now is to go home, bury yourself in a blanket, and scream into your pillow.

DAY 87

You start avoiding Seungcheol again. This time, it isn’t subtle.

You don’t reply to his texts. When he messages asking, “Are you avoiding me again?”, all you can bring yourself to respond is a simple, “I’m sick.”

Technically not a lie. Just… not the whole truth.

You begin leaving for work fifteen minutes earlier than usual, hoping to slip away before he even reaches the station. On top of that, you start taking the women’s coach—just in case he happens to come early too.

It is ridiculous, you know that. But the thought of seeing him, knowing what you know—or rather, what you think you know is too much. You don’t trust yourself to act normal, and you don’t want him to see through you.

So you do the only thing you can think of. You disappear from his mornings. Even if it breaks your heart to do it.

—

But what you don’t expect is to walk through the door and see him there.

You decide you hate Jihyo.

She texts you earlier saying she and Nayeon are going out for drinks with some people, and asks if you want to come. You have been a mess for days—mopey, overthinking—so you figure, why not? A night out might help. Distraction can’t hurt.

You freeze just a few steps inside the bar, hand flying out to grab Jihyo by the wrist.

“What are they doing here?” you hiss, nodding toward the trio of familiar men at the bar counter—Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua, laughing over drinks like they have no idea they are ruining your life.

“Oh, I invited them,” Jihyo says with a shrug, like she just asked them over for coffee.

Your jaw drops. “How? How did you even get their numbers?”

“I exchanged numbers with Jeonghan the other day,” she says simply, brushing past your panic like it is nothing. And before you can protest, she is already walking over to greet them smiling, waving, completely unbothered.

You don’t have the energy to chase after her.

The rest of the night is a blur of noise and lights and everything-you-wanted-to-avoid crashing into you all at once. Seungcheol tries to talk to you more than once, always gentle, always a little concerned, but you keep brushing him off, pretending you don’t hear, pretending someone has called your name.

You laugh louder than necessary, drink more than you should’ve, and cling to Nayeon’s arm like it is a lifeline.

By the time it’s time to leave, you can barely stand without holding onto something or someone.

And when the drinks start to hit, you get drunk. Properly drunk.

Because maybe if your head is fuzzy enough, you’d stop remembering the way he looks at you in that photo or the way he looks at you right now.

Your head feels heavy, and your voice comes out slower than usual. Jihyo and Nayeon aren’t much better off. They giggle as they sling their arms around each other, tipsy and carefree. The problem is—they live in the same direction. You don’t.

Even in your dazed state, you can vaguely make out Seungcheol speaking to Jihyo.

“I’ll drop her home,” he says, voice calm and firm.

“YOU’RE THE BEST—thank you!” Jihyo shouts, completely unhelpful, before stumbling away with Nayeon, leaving you behind.

You stare at Seungcheol, swaying slightly, hugging your bag tightly to your chest like it is some kind of shield. He walks ahead, opens the passenger door to his car, and turns back to you with a tired sigh.

“Can you please get in?”

You blink at him. He raises an eyebrow. You don’t move.

“I’m not kidnapping you,” he adds dryly. “Just trying to make sure you get home in one piece.”

You hesitate for another beat before finally moving, sliding into the passenger seat with a clumsy thump. He closes the door behind you and circles around to the driver’s side.

“Can you put your address in the GPS?” he asks once he is settled.

You fumble with your phone, hands still trembling a bit. Eventually, you manage to type it in and pass it to him.

The car pulls out onto the main road, and for a while, there is only the hum of the engine and the soft sound of the air conditioning.

Then he rolls the window down a little.

The cool night air hits your face, it helps for a moment. You close your eyes, breathing in deep. The nausea settles just a bit, and your thoughts start to line up again, one by one.

Still a mess, still confused. But slowly sobering up.

You ask him to drop you off a little farther from your house—somewhere down the road, away from your actual address.

But, of course, Seungcheol doesn’t listen.

He stops the car right at the bottom of the slope that leads up to your place, shifts into park, and turns to you.

“Stay here,” he says gently, before getting out of the car.

You blink, confused, until you see him circle around and open your door for you. He holds out his hand.

You hesitate, but your legs aren’t steady enough to argue. You let him help you out, his hand warm around yours. He doesn’t let go even as you both start walking up the quiet slope together.

The silence between you stretches for a few minutes, just the sound of your shoes on the pavement and distant insects chirping in the dark. You aren’t sure if it is the alcohol still in your system or the storm in your chest, but eventually, you break the silence.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you ask.

He glances at you, eyebrows pulling together slightly. “What do you mean?”

You exhale slowly, avoiding his eyes. “You know it’s not exactly gentlemanly to lead on a lady when you’re already in a relationship.”

He stops walking.

“…What relationship?” he asks, voice cautious.

You keep your eyes forward. “The bag you bought the other day—it was for her, right? Your girlfriend.”

He says your name softly. Then again, firmer. “Look at me.”

You do. Slowly.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he says. “In fact… there’s someone I like.”

Your heart sinks anyway. Just hearing those words “someone I like” even if it isn’t someone he is with, it still isn’t you.

You look away. “Then go tell her. Why waste all this time on someone who you won’t like back?”

Your voice drops to a mumble at the end, but he still hears it.

He squeezes your hand, just enough to make you look at him again.

“You’re the one I like”, he says.

You don’t know if it is the alcohol or the months of slow-burn tension finally snapping but you lean in.

“No,” he holds you back by your shoulders. “Not like this. Not when you’re drunk. Not when you might not remember.”

Your lips part in protest, but nothing comes out. Your face crumples instead, and without another word, you turn around and start walking ahead.

“Just go,” you mutter. “I’m fine. You don’t have to follow me.”

He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t call out to stop you. But he doesn’t leave either.

He stays parked at the bottom of the slope. Watches you unlock your door. Waits until you step inside. Stays there until the lights in your house turn off.

You don’t know what exactly you’ve done.

But one thing you are sure of. The ghost of tonight is going to haunt you tomorrow.

DAY 90

You were right.

You don’t remember everything that happened last night. Bits and pieces come to you in flashes—your head pounds every time you try to force the memory. You vaguely recall leaving the bar, Seungcheol’s car, walking up the slope...

The more you try to piece it together, the worse your headache gets.

You pop some ibuprofen, hoping it will dull both the physical ache and the mental chaos. It doesn’t do much, but it helps just enough to drag yourself out of bed and into work clothes.

When you finally make it to the station, still feeling like your brain has been put through a blender, you spot him.

Standing exactly where he always does—except now, just the sight of him sends your stomach into a spiral.

You freeze in place.

Few memories flash by. You remember asking about the gift. You remember accusing him of leading you on.

Oh no.

Oh god.

Did you try to kiss him?

Before you can figure out how to vanish into thin air, Seungcheol is already walking toward you. Calm. Collected. Way too composed for someone who might’ve been kissed by a drunk mess.

He reaches into his pocket and holds out a hangover medicine to you.

You blink. Then take it with a quiet, “Thanks.”

“About yesterday…” he starts.

Panic flares.

“Nope,” you blurt. “I mean—OH LOOK! The train’s here, let’s go!”

You practically speed-walk past him and into the nearest compartment like your shoes are on fire.

The entire train ride, you keep a very safe three-foot distance between you and Seungcheol, standing awkwardly near the door like you don’t even know him. You avoid eye contact like it is your job. If someone had drawn a chalk line around you, it would’ve been labeled “emotional damage containment zone.”

You have no idea what to say or what he wants to say. But whatever it is… you aren’t ready.

_

DAY 94

You had, against all odds, successfully dodged the talk with Seungcheol. And honestly? You were kind of proud of yourself.

Sure, it wasn’t the most mature move, but avoiding awkward emotional conversations? You were practically a professional at this point.

Not that he made it easy.

He still waited at the station for you, even though you started leaving earlier than usual in the hopes of missing him. On the train, you avoided any and all eye contact like your life depended on it. And despite that, when evening rolled around, you’d still find him waiting outside your office building, casually leaned against the wall like he hadn’t been ghosted for a week straight.

You’d just mumble something about needing to finish up emails and hide behind your monitor.

Even your coworkers had caught on.

“Your handsome man is downstairs again,” one of them would say with a teasing grin.

“You shouldn’t keep a man that fine waiting. It’s rude,” another would chime in.

But today… Seungcheol clearly decided enough was enough.

As you walk out together after work, the sun just starts to dip low in the sky. He glances sideways at you and asks casually, “Do you like cafes or parks better?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“The vibe, I mean. Like if you had to pick. Cafes or parks?”

You furrow your brows, confused but grateful he isn’t bringing up that night.

What you didn’t realize, of course, is that he wasn’t just making small talk—he is trying to figure out where you’d feel more comfortable. Where you’d feel safe enough to finally talk.

Which, honestly? Is kind of really sweet.

The park is quiet this time of day—just a few people jogging, some kids chasing each other near the fountain, the sky turning that soft, cotton-candy shade of evening.

You aren’t sure how you got here, really. One second you’re walking with Seungcheol, and the next he is leading you toward a bench under a big tree, acting like this is just another casual detour.

Except… you know it isn’t.

You sit beside him, not too close, not too far. Your hands rest in your lap, picking at your sleeves. You can feel your heart beating in your throat.

Seungcheol doesn’t speak for a while. He just sits there, hands resting loosely on his knees.

“I thought you were mad at me,” he finally says.

You keep your gaze ahead. “I wasn’t.”

“You avoided me like I had the plague.”

You let out a breath—part laugh, part guilt. “I panicked.”

“Why?”

You hesitate. “Because I remembered bits and pieces from that night. I thought maybe I said or did something I shouldn’t have.”

There is a small pause.

“You didn’t,” he says. “Nothing weird happened. Except maybe how fast you ran off afterward.”

You smile despite yourself. “I was embarrassed.”

“Why?”

You glance at him, then look back at your hands. “Because I started overthinking things. You were just being nice, and I made it weird.”

He is quiet again for a moment. “I wasn’t just being nice.”

That makes your heart skip a little, but he doesn’t press it.

Instead, he nudges your foot lightly with his. “Anyway, I just didn’t want it to be awkward.”

You nod. “Yeah… me neither.”

“Cool,” he says, leaning back slightly. “So… we good?”

You look at him, and something about the way he is watching you makes you feel lighter.

“Yeah,” you say. “We’re good.”

The conversation shifts to safer topics after that. You stay on that bench for a while longer, talking about random things—the weird subway ad you both hate, the café with terrible coffee he swears he only likes for the muffins.

And just before you leave, he glances at you and says, casual as ever, “Hey… let’s hang out next week. Like, properly.”

You blink. “Like… outside the train?”

It isn’t like you haven’t seen him outside other times, but this time it might be just you two. You and him.

DAY 99

The days passed quicker than you imagined.

You and Seungcheol still took the train to work together every day, but somewhere along the way, those commutes turned into something more. You started stopping by cafés on the way. Tried out that dinner place that had been all over your feed. Even ended up at an arcade once—half-tipsy from drinks at a pojangmacha tucked into the corner of some quiet street, laughing so hard you nearly cried when he lost to you in a dance battle.

Today, you stood on either side of a fogged-up train door.

Absentmindedly, you doodled a tiny smiley face on the glass with your finger. When you looked up, you caught Seungcheol doing the same—drawing a tiny heart just beside your smiley.

You didn’t say anything. Just smiled to yourself the rest of the way home.

Later that night, as you were drying your hair after a shower, your phone buzzed.

Seungcheol [9:13 PM]      hey!! can we meet tomorrow?

You blink. Sit down on your bed and quickly type back:

You [9:13 PM] (indented) sure!! where tho??

It takes him a minute to reply.

Seungcheol [9:14 PM] (indented) there’s this garden café near dongmyo… it’s quiet and pretty at night. 7pm?

You bite your lip, smiling at your screen like an idiot.

You [9:17 PM]     sure 😊😙 see you then!

DAY 100

You are nervous as hell. You are sitting on one of the corner seats at the café, fiddling with your hair, smoothing down your skirt, rubbing your hands against your thighs like it will somehow calm your heartbeat.

Now you sit in that café, trying not to look at your phone every five seconds. He isn’t late. You are just early. Painfully, ridiculously early.

You dress up more than usual today—okay, a lot more.

A sheer, light mocha-brown ruched blouse with soft, billowy chiffon sleeves and a deep V neckline. A high-waisted, dark chocolate brown maxi skirt with a gentle drape and ruched detailing at the hip. You even do a winged eyeliner—after three failed attempts. You check the mirror at least ten times before finally forcing yourself out of the house.

Five minutes pass.

Then the bell over the café door chimes, and you instinctively look up.

There he is.

Seungcheol walks in, dressed in a warm chocolate-brown crew neck sweater and cream-colored corduroy pants. His hair bounces slightly as he moves, and somehow, he looks even better than you remember—soft and put-together and annoyingly, heart-flutteringly handsome.

You stand up as he reaches the table, and he gives you a breathless smile, holding out a small bouquet—white lisianthus and garden roses, sprinkled with baby’s breath.

“You’re early,” he says, just a little out of breath, eyes scanning your face and outfit in a way that makes your skin buzz.

You nod, shy, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “So are you.”

He chuckles softly. “Guess we’re both a little eager, huh?”

And just like that, the nervous weight in your chest lightens, bit by bit.

Dinner is perfect.

Seungcheol insists you try everything. Every time you so much as glance at something on the menu, he tells the waiter, “We’ll have that too.” Your table is overflowing with plates by the time the mains arrive, and you lose count of how many times he leans forward to ask if you are full, if you like it, if the dessert is too sweet.

He keeps spacing out mid-sentence, staring at you with this dazed, boyish look before shaking his head and mumbling, “Sorry, what were we talking about again?”

You tease him for being distracted. He claims it is the lighting that makes him space out. You know it isn’t.

And even though he laughs and looks like he has everything together, you notice the way he fidgets with the hem of his sleeve when he thinks you aren’t looking. How he checks his phone screen just to lock it again.

After dinner, the two of you step out onto the quiet street.

The rush has died down. The air has cooled just enough to make you pull your cardigan tighter. Street lamps cast soft glows on the pavement, and the sounds of the city fade to a distant hum—just footsteps, laughter from across the block, and the occasional car passing by.

You walk side by side. Close, but not touching.

Until he stops walking.

You turn to him. “Cheol?”

He looks nervous. Palms in his pockets, shoulders drawn in slightly, eyes fixed on the road like he is rehearsing something in his head.

Then he looks at you.

“I know this is random,” he starts. “Well—not random, but kind of sudden? Or maybe not. I mean, it’s been a hundred days. That’s a lot. But also not enough, I guess, to say something like this—but it also feels like it is.”

You blink. He isn’t making much sense.

Seungcheol takes a breath and scratches the back of his neck.

“What I’m trying to say is…” He looks at you, really looks at you. “I like you. Like—really like you. More than a ‘train friend’ or a ‘text you memes at 11PM’ kind of way. I think I’ve liked you for a while now, and I kept waiting for the right time, and then today just feels like it. Because it’s special, right? A hundred days. And I—”

“Seungcheol.”

He keeps going. “—I mean, I didn’t want to make it weird, and maybe this is weird, and I’m talking too much—”

You step forward and wrap your arms around him.

He freezes. Then melts. His hands hover for a second before resting gently on your back, holding you like he doesn’t quite believe you are real.

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes. “I like you too.”

It is quiet for a moment. His eyes search yours like he is waiting for you to take it back, like he has to double-check that he heard you right.

You smile. “I was kind of hoping you’d say something.”

A quiet relieved laugh slips from him.

Then, softer, “Can I kiss you?”

You nod.

Seungcheol steps in close, one hand resting lightly on your waist, the other hovering just beside your cheek like he is scared to touch you too fast. His gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips and back again, as if he is memorizing you right here, under the soft yellow glow of the streetlamp.

His fingers finally brush your jaw, a soft touch, careful—like you are something delicate. Your heart thuds in your chest, loud enough you’re sure he can hear it.

Then, slowly, finally, he kisses you.

His lips are warm, soft, hesitant at first—testing the waters, afraid to mess it up. You tilt your head and lean in, and that’s all the reassurance he needs. His hand slides to the small of your back, pulling you a little closer, and he kisses you again—this time deeper, more certain.

There is just the feel of his lips on yours, the quiet rhythm of his breath, the faint scent of his cologne—something warm and woodsy that makes your knees go weak.

When he pulls back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, neither of you say a word. Not yet.

The night is quiet around you, just the hum of distant traffic, the glow of streetlamps, and the soft sound of your breaths mingling in the small space between you.

He finally speaks, voice low, like he doesn’t want to break whatever this is.

“Do you know what today is?”

You smile. “A hundred days.”

He nods. “A hundred days of you. Of seeing you on the train. Of wanting to say more, stay longer.”

You blink up at him, heart full.

“I want more,” he says, thumb brushing your cheek. “Not just another hundred. I want all of them. Every day.”

You lean in, kiss him one more time.

And as you stand there, in the middle of a quiet street with the man who used to be just a stranger on the train. You think the next morning, the train will still come.

And this time, you’ll be boarding it—hand in hand.

BONUS - SEUNGCHEOL’S POV (DAY 1)

The train pulls in, slowing with that familiar screech of metal. Seungcheol leans against the glass panel, one hand in his pocket, headphones in, watching people come and go.

Then she steps on.

He doesn’t recognize her — she’s new, at least to him. She looks around for a moment; the seats, the windows, the slow-moving scenery outside. There’s no rush in her expression, just quiet observation.

She finds a spot across from him, steadying herself on the rail as the train lurches forward. For a while, she just watches the buildings go by, eyes calm, thoughtful.

Then she pulls out her phone, scrolling through something, expression soft and unreadable.

He looks away, pretending to focus on the song playing through his headphones. But it’s hard not to notice her — how she stands a bit straighter than everyone else, how she seems almost peaceful even with the crowd pressing around her.

She doesn’t look at him. Not once. Or so he thinks.

Still, he catches himself checking.

And then the train keeps moving, same as always.

He hopes to see her tomorrow too.

His mouth feels too dry and his throat too tight. He uncaps the bottle of water almost fallen to the ground and takes a long sip. He still has time. There’s nothing he’d be able to do to immediately fix things if the issues went on for so long, of course, but he should be at least able to show that he cares. The dream feels like a wake up call. It’s better to trust the dreams, they never failed him. Even though some would say he’s reading too much into it, that it’s just stress and inevitable anxiety that comes with prolonged separation, Seungcheol knows better.

Once he lands, that same fear captures him in its grasp because he doesn’t see you there, waiting for him. Which is to be expected - it’s getting late, he told you not to come, he forbade you from coming. Still he barely remembers to say his goodbyes before getting the first taxi available and scouring the internet for a flower shop that’s still open and wouldn’t hinder his journey home too much.

He got lucky - the bouquet of roses carefully lies on the seat next to him. Unoriginal, Seungcheol knows, but he hasn’t given you roses in a long time so he hopes you’ll let it slide. 

You open the door before he can let himself in, beaming at him. In your excitement, you barely stop yourself from jumping into his arms when you spot the flowers.

“Cheollie,” you sigh with a smile that he knows is fond but still it might easily be read as resigned as well by his racing mind, “You didn’t have to.”

“No, I did - I love you,” he smiles and pulls you closer anyway, holding the flowers safely aside, “And I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you hum, planting a few kisses along his jaw, “All I have to offer in return is dinner, though. If you’re hungry.”

“For your cooking? Always,” he smiles. Seungcheol refuses to let you go. 

“Not yet,” he whispers. 

He holds you a little tighter and kisses the top of your head before finally setting you free after a minute that feels like the good kind of eternity.

It’s not new, or too unusual, but you still get flustered. Though you’d still write it off as Cheol being his usual clingy self, if it wasn’t for the other things.

The dinner is a simple dish you’ve cooked many times before, yet tonight your boyfriend keeps coming up with compliments to pay you. He honestly treats it like a Michelin star dish. Not to mention his hand is always reaching for yours and even though the situation could easily seem like a farce, it doesn’t. Not when the gratitude and awe genuinely reach his eyes.

He doesn’t let you touch the dishes, insisting on taking care of them himself. And when, after, you decide to just go to bed, he demands you let him help you with your night routine. 

“What’s going on?” you finally sign and cup his face so that Seungcheol can’t run away from you. He wouldn’t even let you hop on the counter yourself, he had to put you there like you were too fragile to handle it on your own. He looks like a deer caught in headlights.

“I- uh,” he stammers, “Nothing. It’s nothing. Are you happy with me?”

You blink a couple times, blindsided by the sudden question.

“Yes, very much so,” you answer with a slight frown, “Did something happen?”

“Just a prophetic dream,” Seungcheol mutters, his faith suddenly not as strong once he’s admitting it aloud. Not when you get that concerned look on your face. 

“Come again?” your frown deepens. He shakes his head with a small smile. You wouldn’t lie to him. But his brain definitely would.

“If you’re happy, then that’s all that matters,” he says as he takes your hands in his, “Tell me if there’s anything, anything, that bothers you, okay? Nothing is too small for you to have to endure it.”

“My boyfriend’s gotten crazy with longing,” you chuckle, leaning forward to kiss him, “I promise.”

“Good,” he whispers against your lips. 

Even so he takes over skincare and everything you usually do. It makes your heart flutter that he still remembers on top of everything he has on his plate and the separation.

And although you told him everything’s fine, tried to drive the point home by more compliments and reassurance, he still carries you to bed and tucks you in before settling next to you.

And after everything, he still pulls you against his chest and holds you the whole night. 

It feels safe.

You press the button for the first song request, the soft strains of a romantic ballad filling the room. As the music plays in the background, your eyes scan the requests that have been flooding in. The chat box is constantly ticking with messages—listeners asking for advice, sharing their love stories, or seeking songs that speak to their hearts. You feel that rush, the adrenaline of knowing you’re connected to so many people in real time.

"Now, I’ve got a message here from a listener who needs a little help," you say, pulling up the request. "This one’s from 'Cherry,' who writes in: ‘I’ve been crushing on someone for a while, but I’m not sure how to confess. Any advice?’"

You let out a small breath, your fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk as you think. This one’s a classic. You've seen it all before, but every confession still feels fresh. You smile softly into the mic.

"Ah, 'Cherry,' I get it. Confessing your feelings can be scary, but it’s also one of the most real things you can do. Here’s my advice: Keep it simple. No need for grand gestures, no elaborate speeches. Sometimes, the best way to let someone know how you feel is through a small, sincere gesture. Maybe write a note or give them a little gift that shows you’ve been thinking about them. And when you tell them how you feel, just be honest—there’s no such thing as a perfect confession. Just be you."

You pause, feeling the warmth of the words settle into your heart. The music swells in the background, adding to the ambiance of the moment.

"Remember, 'Cherry,' it’s not about getting it perfect—it’s about being brave enough to say it. And hey, the worst that can happen is they don’t feel the same way. But you know what? You’ve still won because you were true to yourself. So take a deep breath and go for it. You got this.”

You let the silence linger for a moment, Cherry’s words still hanging in the air. Then, with a small smile, you reached for the controls.

"Alright, Cherry, and everyone out there holding onto feelings they haven’t found the words for—this one’s for you. Maybe it’ll give you the courage to say what’s in your heart, or at the very least, remind you that you’re not alone."

With a soft click, the studio filled with the delicate, wistful melody of "From the start" by Laufey—a song that is the ultimate friends to lovers song for all delusional daydreams.

Leaning back in your chair, you glanced out at the city lights reflecting against the glass. Somewhere, maybe Cherry was listening, hesitating over a letter they weren’t sure they’d ever send. Or maybe, just maybe, they had already begun writing.

After an hour of song requests, confessions, and quiet laughter shared through the airwaves, the LIVE sign dims. You take off your headphones, stretching your neck as the studio falls into silence. Another night, another show wrapped up.

Gathering your notes, you stack them neatly before grabbing your now-lukewarm latte from the desk. The faint chatter of coworkers drifts through the halls—other RJs wrapping up, producers discussing schedules.

"Great show tonight, ___," someone calls out in passing.

"Thanks! See you tomorrow!" you reply with a small smile, pulling on your coat.

Near the exit, your producer glances up. "Don’t forget—tomorrow’s segment is longer for the Valentine’s special. Get some rest!"

"Got it. Night, everyone!"

Pushing open the station doors, you step into the cool night air. The city hums in the distance, but here, it’s quiet—still. You take a slow sip of your latte, savoring the warmth against the crisp breeze.

And then, just a few steps away, you see him.

Leaning against his car, hands tucked into his coat pockets, Seungcheol watches you. The street lamp casts a soft glow over him, catching the faint curve of his lips.

You stop in front of Seungcheol, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing here?"

He tilts his head, acting like it’s the most casual thing in the world. "I was just passing through."

You narrow your eyes. "Passing through? Your workplace is nowhere near here."

"Okay, fine," he chuckles, pushing himself off the car. "I thought I’d pick you up. It’s been a while since we had dinner together."

"Ah, I see. You missed me." You smirk, taking another sip of your latte.

"Don’t flatter yourself, " he scoffs, but the amusement in his eyes gives him away.

You let out a laugh, shaking your head before walking around the car. "Alright, alright. Let’s go before you start crying about how I never have time for you."

He pulls open the passenger door for you with a teasing bow. "Your chariot awaits, my lady."

Rolling your eyes at his theatrics, you slip inside, and he shuts the door before making his way to the driver’s seat.

As he starts the engine, Seungcheol glances at you. "Nice show today."

You blink. "Oh? What’s up, Choiseung? You’re complimenting me?" You raise an eyebrow, grinning.

He scoffs, shaking his head. "Forget it. Should’ve just let you believe no one listens to your rambling at night."

"Too late. I’m taking this to heart forever," you joke, leaning back in your seat.

A few minutes into the drive, Seungcheol reaches into his coat pocket and hands you a neatly folded envelope.

"Here."

You glance at it, then at him. "What’s this?"

"Just open it."

Curious, you unfold the letter inside. His familiar handwriting stretches across the page, carefully written, filled with warmth. It’s a simple note—thanking you for being in his life, for always listening, for just being you.

Your heart softens as you read.

"Ohh, Cheol... this is so sweet. Thank you so much, friend." You smile, touched by the gesture.

The moment the word leaves your lips, he freezes—just for a second.

Then, with a short nod, he looks away, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.

"Yeah… friend." His voice is light, but something about it feels off.

You don’t notice. Or maybe, you just don’t understand.

"Hm? Did you say something?"

"Nothing," he clears his throat, turning into a street. "We should hurry before the restaurant gets packed."

You let it go, tucking the letter safely into your bag as the city lights blur past.

Dinner is simple—warm bowls of stew and easy conversation. You catch up on each other’s lives, laugh over childhood memories, and argue over who should pay the bill (which Seungcheol wins, as always). It’s comfortable, familiar—just like it’s always been.

But every now and then, Seungcheol watches you with something unreadable in his gaze. Something just beneath the surface.

Later, he pulls up in front of your place.

"Thanks for dinner, Choiseung." You grin, unbuckling your seatbelt.

"Yeah, yeah. You can pay next time."

"I’ll believe that when it happens." You laugh, stepping out of the car. "Goodnight!"

He waits until you disappear inside, only driving off once your lights flicker on.

And then he waits.

Seated in his car, he watches as your silhouette moves around the room. It’s only when your lights finally turn off that he exhales, rubbing the back of his neck before driving away into the quiet night.

The next day passes in a blur of work, coffee, and the usual routine. You go through meetings, reply to emails, and try not to fall asleep at your desk. It’s just another regular day—until night falls, and you’re back in the studio, headphones on, mic live, slipping into the comfort of your show.

"And that was 'Moonlight' to set the mood for tonight," you say, adjusting the volume on the console. "Now, let’s see what’s on your mind, listeners. Late-night confessions, random thoughts, love letters—I'm here for it all."

A familiar name pops up in the chat, and you smile.

"Ah, a message from ‘Cherry’ again," you muse, skimming through it.

"So, Cherry says: ‘I wrote them my feelings, but I feel like they didn't get the hint. Any advice?’”

You lean back, thoughtful.

"Confessions are tricky, aren’t they? But if words feel too heavy, why not try something else?"

You pause, then smile.

"Here’s an idea—make a playlist. Fill it with songs that subtly express your feelings, and share it with them. You can name it something meaningful, like ‘For You’ or ‘Songs That Remind Me of You.’ Maybe they’ll get the hint, maybe they won’t, but either way… music has a way of saying what we can’t."

A soft melody plays as you set up the next song, your voice lowering.

"Speaking of confessions… Cherry, this one’s for you."

___

After the show, you gather your things, stretching as the familiar hum of the studio fades into the quiet of the night. Stepping outside, the cool air brushes against your skin—and there he is, leaning against his car, arms crossed, waiting.

"You again?" You arch a brow, teasing.

Seungcheol smirks. "What can I say? Madam needs her personal chauffeur." He pushes off the car, opening the door for you with a playful grin.

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you slide in. "More like my chauffeur needs his daily dose of validation."

He chuckles, shutting the door before rounding the car. "Can you blame me? Gotta make sure my most important passenger gets home safe."

You shake your head, biting back a smile as he starts the engine. The familiar warmth of routine settles between you, comfortable and unspoken.

As you drive, soft music fills the space—a melody unfamiliar yet strangely intimate. You pause, listening. It’s not his usual sound. Gone are the heavy beats and sharp rhythms he prefers. Instead, the speakers hum with gentle tunes, lyrics drenched in longing.

You glance at him, amusement flickering in your gaze. "Since when did your taste in music change this much?"

His fingers flex over the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the road. "Dunno. Just felt like switching things up."

You hum along absentmindedly, letting the melody wrap around you, comforting in ways you don’t fully understand.

Seungcheol exhales quietly, gripping the wheel a little tighter, sneaking a glance your way. Because this playlist isn’t just a mix of songs—it’s a confession. One he can only hope you’ll hear.

As Seungcheol pulls up in front of your place, he shifts the car into park but doesn’t make a move to unlock the doors just yet. Instead, he drums his fingers against the steering wheel, stealing a glance your way.

"__, since tomorrow’s the weekend... you wanna hang out?" His voice is casual, but there’s something just a little hesitant in the way he says it.

You turn to him, brows raised. "Sure. Where?"

Seungcheol clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks away. "Nothing much… just the amusement park. Maybe a café after, y’know."

You blink before breaking into a small smile. "Huh, it’s been a while since we’ve gone there."

He nods, still avoiding your eyes. "Yeah. Thought it might be fun."

You tilt your head, watching him for a second before nudging his arm. "Well, if you’re paying, I’m definitely in."

He scoffs, rolling his eyes but grinning nonetheless. "Yeah, yeah. Just don’t go overboard with the snacks."

You laugh, reaching for the door handle. "No promises. See you tomorrow, Choiseung."

As you step out, he waits, watching until your lights flicker on inside. Only then does he drive off, the soft hum of the playlist still playing in the background.

The next day, the weekend air carries a hint of excitement as you step outside, spotting Seungcheol waiting by his car. Dressed casually in a hoodie and jeans, he looks effortlessly relaxed—except for the way he keeps checking his phone, as if trying to act nonchalant.

"Wow, you’re actually on time today," you tease, walking up to him.

He scoffs, sliding his phone into his pocket. "Please, I was born punctual."

You snort. "Sure, if 'punctual' means making me wait at least ten minutes every time."

Seungcheol rolls his eyes but opens the car door for you anyway, his usual playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Just get in, before I make you walk to the amusement park."

You laugh, sliding in as he rounds the car. Soon, you're both on the road, the soft hum of music playing in the background.

"So, what’s the plan, tour guide?" you ask, glancing at him.

He shrugs, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "Nothing fancy. Just rides, food, and you trying not to chicken out on the roller coasters."

You gasp dramatically. "Excuse you, I do not chicken out—"

"You literally backed out last time," he deadpans, making you groan in protest.

The banter continues, filling the car with laughter as the amusement park comes into view, the vibrant lights and distant screams of thrill-seekers setting the perfect scene for the day ahead.

As Seungcheol parks the car, you glance at the towering rides ahead, the excited chatter of parkgoers filling the air.

"Alright, where to first?" he asks, stretching as he steps out of the car.

You scan the park, lips pursed in thought before pointing towards the roller coasters with a challenging grin. "Since you’re so confident, let’s start with that."

His eyes widen for a split second before he huffs. "I wasn’t the one who backed out last time, remember?"

You laugh, linking your arm with his and pulling him along. "Exactly. Time to redeem myself."

The line moves faster than expected, and soon, you're seated, the bar locking in place. You grip the handles tightly, sneaking a glance at Seungcheol. He looks relaxed, but the way he exhales deeply before the ride starts doesn’t go unnoticed.

The moment the coaster shoots forward, your screams mix with laughter, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you grip the bar for dear life. When it finally slows, you glance at Seungcheol, only to see him looking at you instead of the ride’s descent.

"What?" you ask, breathless.

He shakes his head, a small, fond smile on his lips. "Nothing. Just glad you didn’t chicken out this time."

You roll your eyes, nudging him playfully as you both step off the ride, your legs slightly wobbly from the rush.

The day continues with more rides, playful bets on who can win the most arcade games (he cheats, you swear), and an unnecessary but hilarious attempt at a claw machine.

"Face it, I'm just naturally gifted," he boasts, tossing you a small stuffed bear.

"Naturally full of it, maybe," you grumble, but take the bear anyway, hugging it to your chest.

Finally, as the night settles, you both find yourselves on the Ferris wheel, the gentle hum of the ride filling the comfortable silence. The city sprawls below, glowing under the streetlights, and in the distance, fireworks begin to bloom in the sky.

"Didn’t think today would be this fun," you admit, leaning back against the seat, the cool glass behind you a contrast to the warmth in your chest.

Seungcheol glances at you, something unreadable in his expression. He exhales softly, his fingers tapping against his knee.

"Yeah... I, uh—" He hesitates, licking his lips, his voice quieter now. "There's actually something I—"

But before he can finish, a particularly loud firework crackles in the sky, painting the cabin in flickering colors. You turn quickly, eyes lighting up as you take in the view.

"Oh, look at that one! It’s so pretty" you say, completely missing the way Seungcheol sighs, his half-spoken words swallowed by the moment.

He leans back, running a hand through his hair, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah," he murmurs, gaze lingering on you instead of the fireworks. "It is pretty."

Eventually, you both find yourselves at a cozy café just outside the park, the scent of coffee and pastries filling the air.

After placing your order, Seungcheol suddenly pushes back his chair. “Be right back,” he says, flashing a quick smile before heading toward the counter.

You don’t think much of it, scrolling through your phone until the waiter returns with your drinks. As they set your cup down, you notice the delicate heart design floating atop the foam.

You tilt your head, stirring it slightly with your spoon. “Oh? Is this some kind of Valentine’s special?” you ask, amused. “Did you get one too?”

Seungcheol, who’s just returned to his seat, glances at his own plain coffee and shrugs. “Yeah… no.”

You raise a brow. “Huh. Guess they just like me more.”

He chuckles, taking a sip of his drink, but you don’t notice the way he hides his small, satisfied smile. Because the truth is, he had asked for that heart—just for you.

//

The next evening, the soft glow of the studio lights casts a warm hue as you settle into your seat, adjusting your headphones. Outside, the city hums with life, but a sudden downpour has turned the streets into shimmering reflections of neon signs.

"Looks like we’re in for an unexpected downpour tonight," you say, adjusting your headphones with a small chuckle. "So if you're heading home, grab an umbrella—or better yet, find someone who’ll share theirs with you—if not, maybe this is your chance for a classic movie moment. You know, the whole ‘one umbrella, two people’ thing."

With a quick tap, you queue up a slow, dreamy melody.

"Wherever you are tonight—rushing through the rain or just watching it fall—I hope this keeps you warm. Stay safe out there." As the song plays, you sit back, stretching your arms with a sigh. 

As the show wraps up, you take off your headphones, letting out a small sigh as the last song fades into silence. The studio, once filled with the hum of voices and music, now feels still. Gathering your things, you push open the door, stepping into the quiet hallway.

Outside, the rain still falls in soft sheets, blurring the glow of streetlights. You pause near the entrance, rummaging through your bag. No umbrella. Right. You meant to bring one this morning, but in the rush, it completely slipped your mind.

 You pause at the entrance, contemplating making a run for it, when a familiar voice calls out.

"Figured you’d forget yours."

You blink as Seungcheol steps forward, holding out an umbrella, his usual smirk in place. His hair is slightly damp, his coat dusted with droplets, like he had hurried here without much thought.

A small flutter, barely noticeable, stirs in your chest. You shake it off with a teasing smile. "What, no chauffeur duty today?"

He chuckles, tucking a hand into his pocket. "Uhh, not tonight. I have to stay late for that project."

You tilt your head, a little surprised. "So you came all the way here just to give me this?" You motion toward the umbrella in your hand.

"Yeah," he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Before you can say anything else, his phone buzzes. He glances at the screen, sighs, then looks back at you. "I gotta go. Text me when you get home, okay?"

You nod, watching as he jogs toward his car, the red taillights fading into the rain.

For a moment, you just stand there, gripping the umbrella a little tighter. You don’t know why, but the weight of it in your hands feels different.

Then, shaking off the thought, you open it and step into the rain, heading home.

//

As morning arrives, the first thing that comes to mind is Seungcheol. You blink at your phone, thumb hovering over his contact.

Texting him isn’t anything new—you’ve done it countless times before. But for some reason, tonight, it feels… different. Maybe it’s your coworker’s words still echoing in your head, or maybe it’s the way he’s been occupying your thoughts more than usual.

Before you can overthink it, you start typing.

You: Did you get home okay?

A second passes. Then another. You bite your lip, debating whether to add something else.

You: And did you even sleep well? Don’t tell me you stayed up all night working.

You press send before hesitation can creep in. Almost instantly, the dots appear.

Seungcheol: Wow, checking up on me? I must be special.

You roll your eyes, already imagining the smug grin on his face.

You: Forget I asked.

Seungcheol: Wait, wait— I did sleep. Kinda. Had a long day, but I’m home now.

You: Good. Don’t overwork yourself.

Your fingers hover over the screen for a beat before you add one last message.

This time, he takes a little longer to respond.

Seungcheol: You too.

You lock your phone, exhaling softly as you sink into your pillow.

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe you’re just overthinking. But the warmth unfurling in your chest suggests otherwise.

At work, the usual hum of chatter fills the office. You’re halfway through your emails when a coworker slides into the seat beside you, a teasing grin already in place.

"I saw you yesterday," they start, leaning in slightly. "With a guy. Was he your boyfriend?"

Your fingers freeze over the keyboard.

"What? No!" The denial is immediate, instinctive. Too quick. You clear your throat, forcing a casual shrug. "Just a friend."

Your coworker chuckles, clearly amused. "Mmm, sure. You should’ve seen your face just now."

You scoff, shaking your head. "Oh, please. It’s not like that."

They raise an eyebrow, smirking as they lean against your desk. "Right. Just a friend, huh?"

You roll your eyes, waving them off, but as they walk away, their words linger.

Just a friend. 

You’ve said it a hundred times before. So why does it feel different now?

The soft glow of the studio lights wraps around you like a familiar embrace as you settle in for another night on air. The playlist hums in the background, filling the quiet spaces between your thoughts as you scroll through messages from listeners.

One catches your eye.

“I think I’ve fallen for my best friend. It wasn’t sudden—more like a slow, creeping realization. One day, I caught myself smiling at my phone just because they texted me. I don’t know if they feel the same, and I’m scared to lose what we have. What do I do?"

You hesitate for a moment, the words settling heavier than they should. There’s a flicker of something familiar in them, something that makes you sit up a little straighter.

You take a breath and lean toward the mic. “That’s… complicated,” you begin, your voice even, steady. “Falling for a best friend is tricky. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it. One day, they’re just… them. The same person they’ve always been. And then suddenly, everything feels different.”

Your breath catches slightly. A part of you wants to laugh at the timing, but instead, you clear your throat and lean into the mic.

You exhale softly, fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of your notes. "I think the scariest part isn’t even confessing—it’s the thought of what happens after. What if they don’t feel the same? What if things change? But… at the same time, isn’t it worth knowing? Isn’t it better than wondering ‘what if’ forever?"

The words come naturally, maybe a little too naturally, and you catch yourself mid-sentence, blinking at the realization. Your fingers tighten slightly around the papers in front of you.

You shake it off with a light laugh. "Anyway, I’m not a love expert. But if you’re listening… maybe ask yourself this—would you rather take the risk or live with the regret?"

As the segment transitions, you queue up the next song, the soft melody of Can't Help Falling in Love by Kina Grannis filling the airwaves. A bittersweet smile tugs at your lips as you lean back in your chair, staring at the ceiling.

//

The idea of a team dinner had been floating around the office for weeks, but it wasn’t until today that your producer finally put his foot down.

“We’re going,” he declared, arms crossed as he leaned against your desk. “No more excuses, no more ‘let’s do it next week.’ Tonight, we eat.”

Your coworker snickered, spinning lazily in their chair. “You just don’t want to go home and cook.”

“Exactly,” he admitted shamelessly. “Besides, it’s been a while since we all hung out outside of work. You in?”

You hesitated for a beat, glancing at your screen before sighing. It wasn’t like you had anything better to do. “Yeah, I’m in.”

And that was that. A few hours later, you found yourself walking toward the restaurant with the rest of your team, the air buzzing with conversation. Your producer was still arguing about food, insisting that this place was “decent at best” while another team member defended it with an almost personal level of passion.

You laughed at their banter, falling into step behind them—until something made you slow down.

A familiar figure stood just outside the restaurant, hands tucked into his coat pockets. Even before he turned, you knew who it was.

Seungcheol.

Your brows lifted slightly in amusement. “Are you a stalker?” you teased as you approached. “You’re literally everywhere I go.”

He turned toward you, chuckling under his breath. “No, I’m here with someone. My cli—”

“Shall we go?”

The voice belonged to a woman who stepped up beside him, her posture poised, her tone polite. She looked… elegant. The kind of effortless elegance that didn’t even need to try.

Your gaze flickered between them, something unreadable tightening in your chest before you smoothed your expression. “Who…”

The woman met your eyes and smiled. “Oh, I’m Lee Hana. I’m working with Seungcheol on a project.”

You nodded, lips curving into something light, something easy, even as something else tugged inside you. “Right. Nice to meet you.”

Seungcheol’s gaze lingered on you for a second longer than it should. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh,” you blinked, shifting slightly. “Our team is having dinner.” You motioned toward the restaurant behind you. “You know, bonding and all that.”

He nodded, but before he could say anything else, Hana touched his arm lightly. “Shall we?”

There was a pause—brief, barely there—before he cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah.” Then he glanced at you again. “Bye, then. Have fun.”

And then he was gone, walking away with her at his side.

You watched them leave, something unspoken pressing against your ribs. It’s not jealousy, you told yourself. Not really. But the feeling stayed anyway.

A voice broke through your thoughts. “Oh, isn’t he the umbrella guy?”

You turned to see your coworker standing beside you, glancing after Seungcheol with mild curiosity before their gaze shifted back to you. “Did he come here with a woman?”

You said nothing, but that seemed to be enough of an answer.

They hummed knowingly. “You really must be just friends.” And with that, they walked inside.

You stayed there a second longer, staring at the spot where Seungcheol had just been, before shaking yourself out of it and following them in.

The night air is crisp as you walk back home, the sounds of the city buzzing softly in the background. Your team dinner had ended a while ago, but instead of feeling full and satisfied, there’s a strange heaviness in your chest—a weight you don’t quite understand.  

As you turn the corner to your apartment complex, you slow down, your steps faltering.  

There, leaning against his car with his arms crossed, is Seungcheol.  

Your brows knit together. “What are you doing here?”  

At your voice, he straightens, slipping his hands into his pockets. “You didn’t look well back at the restaurant,” he says, his tone light but laced with something else—concern, maybe. “So, I thought I’d check on you.”  

You blink at him. “You drove all the way here for that?”  

He shrugs. “It’s not far.”  

Liar. His office is nowhere near your place.  

There’s a brief pause. The usual banter is on the tip of your tongue, but for some reason, the words don’t come out as easily tonight. Maybe it’s because he actually showed up. Maybe it’s because you don’t know what to do with the way your heart stutters at the sight of him standing there, waiting for you.  

You shift your weight. “Do you… want to come in for coffee?”  

At that, he chuckles, shaking his head. “Coffee? At this time?” He tilts his head at you, amused. “You must really hate me if you don’t want me to sleep tonight.”  

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Then I’ll give you plain water. Just come in.”  

His lips twitch into a smirk before he pushes himself off the car. “If you insist.”  

And just like that, he follows you inside.  

The door clicks shut behind you as you step inside, flipping on the lights. The familiar warmth of your home settles around you, but with Seungcheol standing in your living room, it suddenly feels… different.

“You can sit,” you say, gesturing vaguely to the couch as you move toward the kitchen.

He hums in response, wandering over but not immediately sitting down. Instead, he looks around, eyes flickering to the small details of your space—the stack of books on the coffee table, the blanket draped lazily over the couch, the half-full cup on the counter from this morning.

“By the way,” you start, keeping your voice casual as you pour warm milk, “who was that woman earlier?”

Seungcheol hums in acknowledgment, but when he answers, it’s after a slight pause. “Just a client. I’m handling a project for her company.”

“Ah.” You nod, stirring the coffee a little too forcefully. “Looked like you guys were close.”

He lets out a small laugh. “Are you interrogating me right now?”

You scoff, bringing the mugs over to the table and handing him one. “No. Just making conversation.”

You drop onto the couch beside him, curling your legs under you. He’s been here so many times before, and yet tonight, the usual comfort feels a little different—like you’re hyper-aware of the way he leans back, his long legs stretched out in front of him, the way he watches you over the rim of his mug.

“You seemed off earlier,” he says after a beat. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you lie, but even you don’t sound convinced.

Seungcheol doesn’t press, just tilts his head slightly, studying you like he’s figuring out a puzzle. “If you say so.”

After a while, he stretches, glancing at the time. “I should go.”

You nod, following him to the door. He lingers for a second, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Text me when you wake up, yeah?”

You frown. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Just ‘cause.”

You roll your eyes, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes your chest tighten. “Fine.”

He smirks. “Good.”

And then, with a small wave, he’s gone.

You stand there for a second, staring at the closed door, fingers curling tightly around your cup.

The theater is dim, the soft glow from the screen casting flickering lights across Seungcheol’s face. The film has barely begun, but the hum of quiet conversations and the rustling of popcorn bags fill the space around you.

You’re not sure who suggested this movie. Maybe he did. Maybe you did. Maybe it was just one of those things—where he casually texted, "Movie?" and you didn’t even think before replying, "Sure."

The movie plays, but your focus wavers. You’re aware of him. Of the way his shoulder is just barely brushing yours. The way his fingers drum lazily against his knee. The way he shifts slightly every now and then, getting comfortable.

And then, his hand moves to the popcorn bag between you.

Your fingers accidentally graze his. Just for a second.

You don’t think much of it—until it happens again.

The second time, neither of you pull away immediately. It’s not intentional, not deliberate. Just… a pause. A moment that lingers for a beat too long before he finally retracts his hand.

Your pulse stutters, but you keep your expression neutral.

A few more scenes pass. You’re getting lost in the film when suddenly—

A jump scare.

It’s sudden enough that your breath catches, and before you can stop yourself, your hand darts out, grasping the closest thing—his arm.

Seungcheol doesn’t move. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t say a word. Just glances down at your fingers curled around his sleeve.

You realize what you’ve done a second too late. Heat creeps up your neck as you start to pull away.

But then—

His arm shifts just slightly, just enough that your hand slides from his sleeve to his wrist, fingertips brushing against his skin.

You don’t move. Neither does he.

The moment stretches, unspoken, unacknowledged. Not quite intentional. But not exactly not intentional, either.

And suddenly, the movie is the least interesting thing in the room.

The movie ends, and the crowd slowly shuffles toward the exits. You stretch your arms as you step out of the dimly lit theater, the cool night air greeting you.

"That wasn’t as scary as I thought," you say, glancing at Seungcheol.

He scoffs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Sure. That explains why you nearly ripped my sleeve off."

You roll your eyes, nudging him lightly with your elbow. "That was one time."

He smirks. "Uh-huh. And what about the other time? And the time after that?"

You narrow your eyes at him, but there’s no real bite behind it. He’s enjoying this way too much.

"Okay, whatever. Where are we eating?" You change the subject swiftly, and Seungcheol hums, pretending to think.

"Ramen?" he suggests.

Your stomach growls at the mention of food, and you nod. "Sounds good."

It’s a short walk to the small ramen shop tucked away on a quieter street. The place is cozy, warm, and familiar—one of those late-night spots you’ve both ended up in more times than you can count. The moment you step inside, the comforting aroma of broth and spices fills the air.

Seungcheol orders for both of you, as he always does, rattling off your usual without even asking. The cashier doesn’t even blink, already used to it by now.

You shake your head with a small smile. "One day, I’m going to switch things up just to mess with you."

He leans against the counter, grinning. "No, you won’t."

He’s right, and you hate that he knows it.

The two of you settle into a booth, the conversation flowing easily between bites of food. Seungcheol steals a piece of your fish cake without asking. You retaliate by swiping a sip of his drink. It's effortless, familiar.

By the time you step back outside, the streets are quieter. The late hour drapes the city in a peaceful hush, the occasional headlights casting long shadows on the pavement.

Neither of you say much as you walk, but it isn’t an awkward silence. Just the kind that lingers when words aren’t needed.

At some point, Seungcheol slows his pace, falling into step beside you instead of slightly ahead.

The street lights flicker above, the air crisp but not too cold. You rub your hands together out of habit.

A beat passes before Seungcheol exhales through his nose and, without a word, reaches out.

His hand brushes yours, just barely.

You think it might be an accident until he does it again.

This time, he doesn’t move away.

And neither do you.

The apartment is quiet when you step inside, the familiar space wrapping around you like a well-worn blanket. You toe off your shoes, set your bag down, and exhale, as if the night still clings to your skin. The soft hum of the refrigerator is the only sound filling the air, but your mind is anything but quiet.

You wander into the kitchen on autopilot, reaching for a glass, but your fingers hesitate over the cabinet handle. The thought slips in, uninvited.

What if he already knows?

The question lingers, settling into the corners of your mind like an echo. You shake your head as if that alone could shove it away, but it doesn’t work.

Maybe it’s the way he laughed tonight—soft, genuine, like the sound itself belonged to you. Or the way he leaned in closer, just enough that his warmth almost touched you. Maybe it’s nothing at all, just the way he exists around you—familiar, steady, yet suddenly… different.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to chase the feeling away, but it’s stubborn. Because now that you’ve noticed it, you can’t unsee it. Every teasing remark, every lingering glance, every small, meaningless moment—it’s all been leading to this.

And the worst part?

You don’t even know when it started.

You sink onto the couch, pressing the cool glass against your palm, grounding yourself. You try to convince yourself it’s nothing. You’ve always been close. He’s always been there.

But tonight, when his hand brushed yours and he didn’t pull away… when he said goodnight like he meant something else…

Your heart had stuttered.

You bite your lip, staring at the ceiling, willing your heartbeat to settle.

...What if he already knows?

//

The studio is quiet except for the soft hum of the equipment. The city lights flicker through the window, casting faint shadows against the booth. You scroll through the messages, eyes landing on a familiar name.

Cherry.

“I tried everything you said—gave them a letter, took them out, spent so much time together. And honestly? I swear they like me too. But… nothing. What do I do?"

You let out a breath, tapping your fingers lightly against the desk.

"Okay, first of all—don’t give up. I know it’s frustrating when someone doesn’t read between the lines, but sometimes, people need things to be said plainly. No metaphors, no subtlety. Just… real words."

You lean back slightly, eyes flickering toward the dim window of the booth, where the city blurs in the distance.

"Because here’s the thing—what if they do feel the same way? What if they’re just as scared as you are? Wouldn’t you rather know than spend your days wondering?"

The words come easily, almost too easily, and for a split second, you wonder if you’re really just talking to Cherry anymore.

You exhale and push forward.

"So here’s my advice, Cherry. Tell them. No hints, no half-confessions. Just look them in the eyes and say, ‘I like you.’ And if they don’t feel the same? At least you’ll know. At least you won’t have to live with ‘what if.’"

Your hand hovers over the controls for a moment longer than necessary before finally pressing the next song cue.

The melody flows through the studio, soft and steady. And yet, your heart is thudding slightly faster than it should.

The night air is cool against your skin as you step out of the building, the faint hum of the city filling the quiet. Work is done for the day, your coworkers already heading their separate ways after a few lingering goodbyes.

You stretch your arms slightly, exhaling as you adjust the strap of your bag—only to freeze mid-motion.

He’s there.

Standing just outside the entrance, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket—except for one, which lingers behind his back, hiding something.

Your heart stirs, something instinctive. “Seungcheol?”

His lips twitch in a small, almost nervous smile. “Hey.”

“You’re waiting for me?” You shift your bag on your shoulder, stepping toward him.

“Yeah.” A soft exhale. “I had to.”

You tilt your head slightly. “Why?”

Seungcheol hesitates, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Then, with a slow exhale, he pulls his hand from behind his back—revealing a bouquet of flowers, delicate and vibrant under the streetlights.

Your breath catches.

Your fingers brush against his as you take it, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours.

“Seungcheol…” Your voice is softer now, unsure. The gesture feels too deliberate, too thoughtful. It makes your heart ache in a way you don’t fully understand.

He watches you for a second before exhaling, running a hand through his hair. “I should’ve said this sooner. A long time ago, actually.” His voice drops slightly. “I think—no, I know—I’ve liked you for a while now.”

Your breath catches.

He holds it out to you, a faint chuckle escaping his lips. “I know it’s kind of cheesy, but... I saw this and thought of you.”

Your fingers brush against his as you take it, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours.

“Seungcheol…” Your voice is softer now, unsure. The gesture feels too deliberate, too thoughtful. It makes your heart ache in a way you don’t fully understand.

He watches you for a second before exhaling, running a hand through his hair. “I should’ve said this sooner. A long time ago, actually.” His voice drops slightly. “I think—no, I know—I’ve liked you for a while now.”

The world feels like it slows down.

His eyes flicker with something—uncertainty, vulnerability, an honesty so raw it makes your chest tighten.

“I tried not to,” he continues, voice steadier now. “I thought maybe it would pass, that maybe we were just friends and I was misreading things. But then you started showing up in my thoughts at the most random times. I’d hear a song and think of you. I’d pass a café and wonder if you’d like their coffee. And no matter how much I tried to ignore it… it was always you.”

Your fingers tighten around the flower.

“So I’m done pretending.” His voice is quiet but firm. “I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time.”

You swallow, fingers tightening around the flower as your heart stumbles over itself. The weight of his words settles over you—not heavy, not suffocating, but something warm, something undeniable.

For a long moment, you don’t speak. You don’t know if you can.

Seungcheol watches you carefully, his usual confidence laced with something softer, something uncertain. You can tell he’s waiting, bracing himself for whatever comes next.

So you inhale slowly, steadying yourself.

“You—” Your voice falters slightly before you clear your throat. “You’ve liked me for a long time?”

He nods, lips curving into a self-deprecating smile. “Yeah.” A beat. “I thought you knew.”

Your breath catches.

Did you?

You think back—to the lingering glances, the easy laughter, the way he’s always been there, steady and constant. The way he looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice. The way your heart has been shifting, your feelings unraveling into something you weren’t ready to name.

“I…” You pause, lips parting, your heart beating so fast it’s dizzying. And then you laugh, a little breathless, shaking your head. “God, I feel so stupid.”

Seungcheol blinks, caught off guard. “Huh?”

You meet his eyes, and this time, there’s no doubt, no hesitation.

“I like you too, you idiot.”

For a second, everything is still.

Then Seungcheol lets out a sharp breath—a laugh, almost disbelieving—and suddenly, that teasing smile you know so well is back, but there’s something else in his expression now. Something real. Something unshakable.

“Yeah?” His voice is quieter, laced with something warm.

You nod, lips pressing together. “Yeah.”

And then, he pulls you in—his hand resting at the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair.

His lips press against yours, gentle at first, then firmer, like he’s been holding this in for too long. His other hand stays over yours, the bouquet still between you, petals brushing against your skin.

The city buzzes in the background, but all you can hear is the quiet rush of your own heartbeat. And in that moment, with his warmth, his touch, his everything—

It just feels right.

You pull away just enough to look at him, breathless, your forehead still resting against his. His hands remain on your waist, warm and grounding, as if neither of you wants to let go just yet.

And honestly? You don’t think you ever want to.

A soft laugh escapes you, light and airy. “You know… a listener of mine also loves their best friend,” you murmur, tilting your head slightly. “They tried everything—subtle hints, letters, taking them out—but their best friend was too dense to get it.”

Seungcheol chuckles, his thumb brushing over your wrist. “Sounds familiar.”

“Right?” You sigh dramatically. “So, I told them to just confess. No hints, no half-confessions, just… real words.”

He hums, nodding thoughtfully. “Good advice.”

“Yeah,” you grin, looking up at him. “I wonder how it went for them.”

Seungcheol pauses for a second, then leans in just a little, his voice playful yet quiet. “I’d say pretty well.”

You blink. “Huh?”

His lips quirk up, and suddenly, the way he’s looking at you feels a little too knowing.

And then, before you can process it, he says it—just two words, but they hit you like a ton of bricks.

“I know.”

You stare. “What?”

He grins, tapping a finger against your forehead lightly. “Your listener. Cherry.”

Your brows furrow. The pieces are there, but your brain refuses to connect them. “What about them?”

He hesitates, as if savoring the moment, before finally confessing, “It’s me.”

Silence.

You tilt your head, processing his words. “...You’re Cherry?”

Seungcheol nods, clearly holding back a laugh at your expression.

For a second, you just stand there, staring at him.

Then, with a dramatic gasp, you lightly smack him with the bouquet in your hands.

“Ow—hey!” He feigns pain, stumbling back slightly, but the wide grin on his face betrays him.

“You idiot!” You hit him again, though there’s no real force behind it. “You made me give love advice for your own confession?”

He catches your wrist, still laughing. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

You narrow your eyes at him, but before you can retaliate, he tugs you forward, pulling you into another hug.

This time, it feels different.

Familiar, warm, but with something new. Something neither of you have to question anymore.

You sigh against his shoulder, shaking your head. “I can’t believe you.”

You laugh a little at the mild pout on your boyfriend's face as he stares contemplatively at the bed after you've suggested a rather… interesting sleep method that he's never really heard of before. 

“It's really not,” you assure him. “Other couples do this all the time! And I thought it would be fun to try out too.”

Your boyfriend, Seungcheol, blinks at the bed before looking over at you, mystified. 

“Really? People want to do this?”

“Yes, Cheol.”

“Hm.” Seungcheol frowns. “What did you say this was called again?”

“The Scandinavian Sleep Method,” you say cheerfully, hopping over to the drawers with all the different duvets and duvet covers that you and your boyfriend have collected over the years you've been living together. “Isn't it such a great idea? We sleep in the same bed, but we each have a different duvet so we get better sleep but still get to be next to each other.”

You begin pulling out different duvets, inspecting them and continuing to chatter as you do so. 

“I know how much you love weighted blankets, but you know they're not something I'm a big fan of,” you say. “And you really hate my fluffy covers, for some reason. But if we sleep this way, then both of us can sleep happily without causing disturbance to the other's sleep quality!”

With a flourish, you turn back round to Seungcheol, the offending weighted blanket and fluffy cover in your hands, as if emphasising your point. There's a bright beam on your face, evidently eager to try out this new idea, but Seungcheol? 

He's still looking a bit hesitant. 

Which, understandable. You're introducing a new sleeping arrangement three years after you've been quite happily living together. Anyone would find that weird. 

“If we don't like it, we can switch back,” you assure him. You shrug. “It's just a trend I saw online, Cheol. I thought it would be cool.”

Seungcheol pauses, and then smiles, nodding once. “Fine, fine. Let's try out, then. We'll see if the Scandinavians actually sleep well.”

You cheer, dropping the bedding and skipping across the room to launch yourself into Seungcheol’s arms. He catches you easily, laughing as he does so, amused at how delighted you are by his acceptance. 

“Yes! I love you. Now I get to make the bed all aesthetic with different layered sheets!”

Seungcheol laughs again. “All right, sweetheart. Tell me if you need more sheets to fit in with your vision, okay? I'll buy you whatever you need.”

“Oh my god, suddenly I love you even more.”

───────────── 🗝

Admittedly, Seungcheol does love hearing you say that you, the absolute love of his life, love him (and any self-respecting boyfriend would feel the same), but he's wondering if this entire thing is really, really all that worth it. 

Because, well. 

Seungcheol hates the Scandinavian Sleep Method. 

He harbours no hatred towards the Scandinavians themselves, of course, but their sleep method, for him, well and truly sucks. 

Of course, he can understand why people like it. There are aspects he doesn't mind, too: such as how it's currently way less likely for him to wake up at 4am with a cold ass because you've stolen half the covers from him again. Or how he doesn't have to worry about the fluffy, fuzzy feeling of your sheets pressing creepily soft kisses against his ankles. Or how he can now actually sleep peacefully without finding that he's been suffocated by your weight on his chest because now, you actually sleep on your side of the bed. 

Nevertheless, he hates this. 

Unfortunately, he can't bring himself to say anything about this, because—

“I seriously think my quality of sleep has improved so much,” you say to Seungcheol one Sunday morning, beaming over your cup of coffee as he makes breakfast waffles for you. “The Scandinavians really know what they're talking about, huh?”

And your eyes are bright, sparkling as you say this, so full of life even though it's nine in the morning on a Sunday. 

So Seungcheol smiles back, happy purely because you're happy, even though if you really pressed him, he'd admit that he's not really happy at all. 

“I guess they do,” he says, turning back to the waffles. “Do you want honey with the waffles? Or the new maple syrup I bought you?”

“Ooh, maple syrup, please!”

And then Seungcheol had done all sorts of fancy tricks with the bottle of maple syrup, and you had clapped your hands and laughed, delighted, and Seungcheol felt a little better, the weight of his guilt that he didn't share your opinion beginning to lighten. 

There's no real big reason why he hates this sleeping arrangement. Sure, it stops all your bad sleeping habits, but, truthfully, he… misses all those things. 

He misses waking up to you all huddled up in the blankets, looking all small and adorable whilst swathed in the thick fabric. He misses cuddling you close and entangling his legs with yours in order to escape from the weird fluffy texture of your sheets. He misses feeling the comforting weight of you asleep against his chest, warm and secure like the physical manifestation of his soul, safely tucked against his side. 

Now, you simply smile at him, face shiny and soft from your skincare routine, and give him a peck on the cheek goodnight before snuggling under your duvet, away from him, in your own little bubble of comfort. 

Without him. 

It makes him feel like an abandoned dog left in the rain outside of his owner's home. 

Excuse him for being dramatic, but he's literally slept with you curled up in his arms for a very, very long time now. And these days, now that you're no longer with him and are miles away on the other half of the bed, he can't fall asleep by himself. 

Withdrawal symptoms from cuddling must be a thing, because he's going through them right now. 

“Just talk about how you feel, then,” is what any sane person would say about this matter, which is very good, very sound, advice. 

However, it's also what Joshua says to Seungcheol when he complains to him about the new sleeping arrangement, and everyone knows Joshua is the least sane person in existence, so Seungcheol decides to ignore his advice. 

Joshua rolls his eyes, used to but not pleased by Seungcheol's stubbornness. 

“You're being silly,” he says, when Seungcheol vetoes his suggestion. “This is obviously impacting your sleep quality in a negative way, which is the exact opposite of what Y/N was hoping for.”

“But Y/N seems to be sleeping better,” Seungcheol argues. He rubs his eyes, and the world spins a little as he does so. “So I probably shouldn't say anything, right?”

“No, you should say something,” Joshua says firmly. “What do you think Y/N will do when it becomes obvious that this new arrangement is actively harming you, and yet you didn't say anything? Hell, if I found out my boyfriend wasn't telling me that kind of stuff, I'd get really mad.”

Seungcheol frowns. “What? Why?”

“Because you're my boyfriend?” Joshua says. “Uh—not actually mine, obviously. But that's how Y/N would feel. You need to communicate your feelings. That's what couples do.”

Joshua takes a sip of his tea, spinning around in Seungcheol's desk chair in his study whilst Seungcheol, the owner of the chair, is currently exiled to the small wooden stool beside it. 

“Just think about how you'd feel if you were in Y/N's shoes. How would you feel if your partner wasn't telling you that they're sleeping badly and feeling increasingly more terrible throughout the weeks because of something that could be easily fixed by them talking it out with you?”

And oh, now Seungcheol understands. Now it makes more sense. He'd want you to communicate your feelings immediately. 

Joshua must see the revelation on Seungcheol's face, because he snorts smugly. “I knew you'd get there in the end.”

“Shut up,” Seungcheol grumbles, and Joshua mocks him for how ridiculously macho-man he was being before. “I'll talk to Y/N about this tonight.”

“Well done,” Joshua says amusedly, spinning around in Seungcheol's chair so fast that its joints, even as expensive and well-oiled as they are, begin to groan in surprise. “I'm so proud of you.” 

 “Shut up,” Seungcheol says again, and Joshua laughs. “And get off my chair.”

“Hmph! You're so mean. I bought this chair for you, you know.”

“No, you didn't.”

“No, I didn't. But you believed me for a second, didn't you?”

“Definitely not. Now get out of my house before Y/N gets home.”

───────────── 🗝

It's one of those very, very rare days where you finish work later than Seungcheol, and so when you unlock the front door and finally make it inside, you're more than ready to just fall into your boyfriend's arms. 

Except, the entire ground floor of your house is dark when you get home.

“Where is he?” you say to yourself, mystified. “Cheol? Where are you?”

“In our room!” he calls back from upstairs, and you take off your coat and shoes, dumping your bag by the doorway and bounding up the stairs two at a time to get to your boyfriend. 

“Seungcheol! Why were the hallway lights off? Have you eaten dinner yet? What's— wait, what are you doing?”

In the middle of your bed, right over where the two halves of your bedding meet, Seungcheol is sprawled out in an upside down starfish shape, staring up at you balefully as you walk into the room, and you laugh a little at the state your boyfriend is in. 

“Hello,” you say amusedly. “You look like you're sulking.”

Seungcheol just continues to blink up at you like a displeased cat. 

You laugh again, bending down and kissing him on the forehead. “Definitely sulking, I see. What's wrong, baby? What happened?”

There's a long moment where Seungcheol doesn't say anything, and you continue to smile down at him, petting his hair fondly. And then, he frowns, and speaks. 

“What do you think of our bed?”

You look over at the head of the bed, scanning it briefly. “I think it looks fine.”

It's apparently the wrong thing to say, because Seungcheol frowns harder. 

“Why? Do you not like it?”

“I don't like it,” Seungcheol says, and sits up, turning around to face you. “I don't like this sleeping arrangement.”

You tilt your head. “Oh? I thought you didn't mind the Scandinavian Sleep Method.”

Seungcheol sighs. “I lied,” he admits. “I actually hate it so much. It's the worst thing in the entire world.”

Your face softens in worry, feeling something thick and bitter rising to your throat at the idea that you've been forcing Seungcheol to go through with something he hates. 

“I'm sorry,” you say sincerely, sitting down beside him on the bed. “I didn't realise. You should've said something, Cheol. I would've changed back in an instant.”

Seungcheol, for how big and manly and good at acting as your guard dog he is, still always melts under your touch, and the moment you wrap your arms around his neck, he softens into your embrace, burying his face in your shoulder. 

“Would you really?” he asks, muffled into your blazer, and you belatedly realise that you're still in your work clothes. You haven't even washed your hands. 

“Of course I would,” you say in your best don't be silly voice. “I don't want you to be feeling bad.”

His hands wrap around your waist, warm and comforting and he pulls you in closer, hugging you even tighter. 

“Sorry,” he says. “I feel like I'm being stupid. This isn't even anything big. It just… makes me feel really terrible, and I don't know why.”

“Hey, that's totally okay,” you say placatingly, threading your fingers through his hair and patting him consolingly on the back. “I told you we didn't have to carry on with this, baby. I said we could switch back whenever we wanted to.”

He squeezes you tighter, arms wrapping more securely around you. “I still feel bad. You liked this sleeping method.”

You laugh softly, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Yes, but not as much as I like you.”

If possible, he seems to melt even further into you at those words, and you smile, adoring how clearly he adores you. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” you say affectionately, kissing Seungcheol's ear before untangling yourself from his embrace. “Let's start remaking the bed then, hm?”

You pull away from his arms, and Seungcheol is staring at you with big eyes, irises all melty soft. And then he nods, smiling slightly, looking like a pleased puppy as he gets off the bed and begins helping you take the covers off the duvets. 

───────────── 🗝

It's unusual for Seungcheol to be so shy like this—normally, he's the one telling you to be more outspoken, more confident, so it's a nice change. You quite like being able to reassure him, gently tell him what to do, praise him and shower him with love in the way that he always does with you. 

“So why did you hate the Scandinavian Sleep Method?” you ask him a bit later as the two of you sit in front of the washing machine, watching it spin your bedding round and round. Seungcheol had insisted that you wash all of it right away, because otherwise the two of you were bound to put it off for a whole month. 

Your boyfriend shrugs. He watches the bedding get spun in circles again and again and again. 

And then, he finally looks at you, clad in your classic two-piece cotton pyjamas, hair all a mess, your face softened and natural now that you've washed up for the night, all ready to go to bed. 

You look so pretty like this, so open and comforting and god, Seungcheol had missed you. 

Even though he sees you every day. But that's whatever. He's missed being this close with you at night, in this kind of domestic setting, where it's just the two of you pressed close together in your house as the rest of the world sleeps. 

“That sleeping arrangement…” he begins quietly, and you look up. 

“Hm?”

Seungcheol holds your gaze very seriously as he continues. “It didn't let me hug you.”

You blink. “What?”

“It didn't let me hug you,” he repeats, as serious as ever, and you want to laugh in fondness because it really is that serious for him. “I couldn't cuddle you to sleep. I hated that.”

“Oh,” you say, positively melting away at his reason, so unbelievably in love with him that your heart is goo in your chest. “That's so sweet, Cheol, oh my god.”

You lean over and pinch his cheek, cooing over him, and he bats your hand away with a groan, smiling. 

“Go away,” he grumbles, but it's so full of warmth that the words carry no weight whatsoever.

“But then you can't cuddle me in your sleep,” you say, pouting exaggeratedly. “Unless… you don't wanna cuddle me any more?” 

You gasp dramatically, leaning away from him for full effect, and then yelp when he grabs you by the waist and pulls you into his side, preventing you from moving away. 

“Don't say silly things like that,” he reprimands teasingly, laughter tinging the ends of his words. He kisses your shoulder. “Of course I want to cuddle you. It's the only thing I'll be doing every night from now on.”

“That's awfully cheesy,” you point out. “Sap.”

“It's all your fault.”

“Huh, I suppose it is,” you say proudly, snuggling into your boyfriend. “Glad to know I have such an effect on you.”

Seungcheol sighs, fond, and kisses your shoulder once again. “Oh, if only you knew.”

Until they one day sat down and shared it all, every single one of the 12 boys and men around him had offered him support, everyone certain that he did in fact have a mark, it was just hidden more than most.

He never told any of them, but he prayed that they were right.

Like Seungcheol you were just as excited for your mark, and you were equally as devastated when it didn’t appear. It was like a literal knife in your heart, one that kept twisting whenever one of your friends finally found theirs.

You still smiled of course, you had been raised to be polite and kind, but it was nothing short of bitterness that coated your tongue. Pure jealousy and heartbreak.

One day in class one of the girls had arrived with a little tattoo on her wrist, she had then marched up to one of the boys in your class, all to present him the little star, one that matched his own so perfectly. That had been a tough pill to swallow.

So instead of showing the world the frown and the tears that threatened to spill, you had instead drawn it on the back of your hand.

Seungcheol had been sitting somewhere in the Pledis building when he felt a warmth on the back of his hand, one he had never felt before. And when he had looked, a tiny little :´( had appeared.

He had jumped from the chair, heart beating out of his chest as he tried to communicate with those of his members that were close.

His voice was unable to speak, his mouth was dry and his brain was malfunctioning. So instead of actually speaking, he just stood there and shook his other hand.

It had taken Wonwoo a few seconds to decipher what it was their leader so desperately was trying to tell them. But as soon as he gave the desperate man a pen, he calmed down.

He sat there and stared at the back of his hand, wondering what to write, what to draw, and in the end he ended up with something as simple as a heart. To show that his belonged to you, and that he was there by your side.

It had taken the two of you a while to figure out that you couldn’t use words to communicate, it had to be drawings and symbols. But you had still managed to figure out that he was from Korea, which of course meant you had tried learning the language straight away.

Seungcheol would send a little drawing of a flag your way whenever he was travelling, letting you know what he was up to. When he injured his leg he had managed to draw a stick figure on his arm with a broken leg to convey the message that he was out of business.

That day was the first time you had kissed your wrist with lipstick on, and he had seen the imprint there, and had kissed it back. His heart was breaking a little, because it had been years, and the two of you were nowhere near figuring out who you were, or how you were to find one another.

And then it happened, the article came out. Now he only needed to figure out how he got you to read it.

“How do I tell her which article to read?” He said as he sat there looking more like a giant question mark than a man.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. They had been at this for hours, and they were nowhere closer to figuring out just how to communicate the name of the article to you.

So far all they had come up with was a newspaper and a flower, but when they had tried googling themselves, nothing even slightly familiar had come up.

Seungcheol laid his cheek on the table in front of him. You had to find it now, the article was trending and twitter was collectively losing its mind. This was his chance.

Joshua stood up from the couch. “You two are so impossible to be around” he said as he took the little brush from his friend's grasp.

He drew a newspaper, a microphone, a small seventeen and a flower.

“There, it should not be that hard if she googles article, singer, seventeen and flower”

Joshua smiled at the older man before he returned to his spot on the couch. A hangout session with the three eldest was nothing new.

They loved spending time with one another, there was an understanding between those three, that the other ten didn’t always understand. And they didn’t need to.

Seungcheol nodded. “Okay. I mean, yeah. She’ll get it. Of course she will”

“Of course she will,” Jeonghan echoed.

There was excitement brewing in his chest, but also nerves, because there was still a chance that this just wouldn’t work.

“What the hell does that mean?” You said as you stretched out your arm to your best friend.

She laughed in response. “Why are you asking me? He’s your soulmate” she bit down on a dumpling, before she made a dramatic gesture of complete and utter satisfaction.

“Is that a book or a paper… Hell it might even be a magazine?” You crooked your head to the side.

“The 17 and the flower is easy enough” You pulled out your phone and typed “17 flower” into your search engine. Nothing popped up.

“Maybe it’s ‘singer’? The microphone I mean”

You pointed her way before adding it to the search, and as if you had said the magic word, there it was; an article about the group Seventeen and their soulmates.

“Holy shit” you said before you stood up from your seat. “Holy shit!” you yelled a little louder.

“Dude we’re in public” was all you got in response.

Your eyes welled with tears as you felt your hands starting to shake. You read the whole thing while you were still standing up. There was no time to sit down, no time to collect yourself, all you could do was read.

Your friend rose from her seat and came to plop you down in your chair, luckily for her it worked, because people had started to stare.

As soon as you finished the story you forwarded it to her.

“Aw, I like that, flowers… That must be such a beautiful mark!” she said.

The two of you had moved on to twitter, the home of fangirls and fandoms.

“Okay… So there’s four of them left on the market apparently”

“The man market” Your friend said as she stuffed Japchae into her mouth with a satisfied groan. You sent her a look, and all she did was smirk in return.

“So who’s left?” she asked as she leaned forward over the table, desperate to take a look at the four men available.

“There’s Joshua, Vernon, Mingyu…” you said as you scrolled through the pictures.

“Oh, wow!” Your friend said as she snatched the phone from you. “I would not mind sinking my teeth into that man”

You rolled your eyes as you scrolled to the last person on the list. “And then there’s the leader, Seungcheol”

Your cheeks heated up, and your mouth went completely dry as you looked at the man on your phone.

There was no doubt in your mind that it had to be him, none of the others made your heart beat out of your chest, nor did they make your hands clammy.

“I think…” you said as you looked at your bestie, she only reached out for your arm.

“Yeah, so do I!”

He was beautiful, tall and wide, with a smile that would make any woman forget what she was thinking.

But the beauty and the fame would definitely be an obstacle, you needed to figure out how to get to him.

First you needed to let him know that you had received his message

Seungcheol had been sitting and staring at his arm for about an hour, and nothing had happened. There had been no response from you.

It killed his spirits, and he had ended up sending the guys home, so that he could just wallow in his own self pity.

His friends had patted him on the back, and told him to keep his head held high, that he at one point would be able to crack the code.

He had dropped down on the couch hiding his face in his hands when that well known warmth spread on the back of his hand.

He was prepared for a question mark, or any other indicator that you in fact hadn’t been able to figure out who you were.

After a few minutes he had decided he might as well get it over with, sooner rather than later. He slowly sat up and looked at the back of his hand, then he shot up from the couch with a roar.

Because right there on the back of his hands were two cherries, and around it was drawn a heart. It was his symbol, which could only mean one thing, you had finally found him.

You had done your research about your man, where he liked to hang out, and where he frequented. It was a little weird, and deep down you felt a little bit like a stalker.

Yet you had no idea how else you were meant to stumble upon him. It was impossible to get a meeting with him, and to get inside of the Hybe building had proven absolutely impossible.

Nothing had worked. So instead you had just been roaming the city.

You were currently sitting in a small café not far from your airbnb, cozying up to yet another coffee in your soulmates city.

The last few days had been nothing short of amazing.

You had made it clear to him that you would be there, that you would be looking for him and you hoped that he too would be out and about, looking for you as well.

When you had sat down at the cafe you had pulled out the little pen you always carried and drawn a little coffee mug on the inside of your wrist.

Hoping that he would go out and get a cup himself, hopefully at the little shop where you had been cooped up for the last hour or so.

But he had not come. There was a little bit of disappointment in your heart, even though you knew that it would most likely take more than that for the two of you to meet.

You slowly got up from your seat, and went to thank the kind lady for a wonderful cup of coffee.

You didn’t notice the man who entered, so instead you walked straight past him and out the door.

Like most of his brothers Seungcheol had taken a few days off as soon as he had gotten the memo that you would be in town.

He visited all the places that he loved, that he knew carats knew as well, yet you were nowhere to be found.

Tomorrow was his first day back, preparing for their comeback, and he hated that he might have to return empty-handed, without a beauty on his arm.

The little coffee mark on his wrist had sent him on one last adventure, but the café he had chosen was empty, except for the woman who had walked straight past him.

Whoever the woman was she had smelled of cherries, and for some reason the smell alone reminded him of you.

Just as he was about to follow her out the door, the lady behind the counter asked him what he would want, and the thought of the cherry smelling woman was quickly out of his mind once again.

You had just exited the shop when the sky above opened and the rain started pouring.

A curse left your lips as you made a mental note to remember to pack your umbrella.

Luckily there was an awning outside the shop to keep you dry while you tried to call a taxi to take you back to your little apartment.

It did feel like kind of a waste to pay someone to drive you, when it would only take you ten minutes to walk.

But you also refused to spend the last few days of your trip being sick and therefore make it even more diffucult to meet that other half of yours.

You pulled out the pen once again and drew an umbrella with a cross over followed by a sad smiley, hoping that he would get the memo.

Seungcheol felt the warmth spread on the inside of his wrist once again, and he couldnt help but smirk at the little drawings.

He had been smart enough to check the weather forecast before he left his apartment, so as soon as he had secured his coffee he pulled his own umbrella from his jacket pocket, ready to enter the now wet world of Seoul.

Maybe he just needed to walk around and look for a woman who had forgotten her umbrella?

He smiled before quickly drawing a heart and a smiley, urging you to go on.

As Seungcheol excited the shop the familiar smell of cherries washed over him, and the woman who had just been inside of the cafe, now lingered outside.

He was just about to ask what she was waiting for, when he spotted her looking at her right wrist.

And on her skin in ink, was the exact conversation of little figurines that was mirrored on his own.

Seungcheol felt how his heart started beating, how his mouth went dry, and how he for the life of him suddenly became unable to speak.

Instead he just stood there, opening and closing his mouth again and again, hopeful that the words would come to him.

They didn’t, instead he looked down to the umbrella he had in his hand, and decided to utilize it.

The man had stopped much like you had, and had no doubt decided that staying put would be better than going out into the rain and getting wet.

You stood there and admired the little encouragement your soulmate had decided to send your way, a small smile on your lips.

Then you felt a small push, and as you looked out of the corner of your eye, you saw an umbrella.

You turned towards the man with a puzzled look.

And there he was.

His smile was awkward and nervous, and if you looked closely it was clear for anyone to see that the legendary leader of Seventeen was shaking like a leaf in a storm.

You stood there and just stared at him, as your heart was beating out of your chest and as you could feel your entire being warm up.

He was here, he had found you, umbrella in his hand and everything.

A tear fell from your eyes, and before you had the chance to even blink, the man had closed the distance between the two of you and pulled you into his chest.

And there, in the warm embrace of your soulmate, you had finally found your place in the world.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you” he whispered into the crook of your neck.

You laughed a little as you pulled yourself closer to him, as close as physically possible. It led to him releasing a hum that managed to ease your anxiety straight away.

“You are a hard man to find, Seungcheol” you said with a small laugh that he quickly returned.

He pulled away from you and finally took you in, the beauty of you. You were perfect, beautiful and fierce. He couldn’t wait to get to know you better.

One of his hands snaked up around the back of your neck. It was firm, yet gentle enough that you could get away if you wanted to. He squeezed gently and saw how your eyes sparkled as you smirked at him.

"Want to get out of here?” He asked as he raised a brow, and you quickly nodded.

His arm snaked around your shoulder as he pulled you as close to his side as humanly possible.

He was never letting go of you.

Seungcheol had spend all night getting to know you, talking until the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms.

He had woken you up with a peck on your nose, then on your forehead, on your cheeks and in the end he just kissed you all over.

You had laughed before finally giving him one, so intimate and passionate it would end up making him late.

The leader was excited when he told security that you would need a badge for the building. He was happy when you pulled him a little closer when you got close to the practice room.

And he was proud when he finally pulled open the door to meet his members, only to be scolded by each and every one of them for being late.

He didn’t care one bit. He just stood there and smiled, until he pulled you in after him, and the room erupted into the well-known chaos that was the boys introducing the group to their soulmate

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You smile to yourself automatically. He says it so casually, like it's obvious he'd wait forever for you if he had to.

And honestly, he probably would.

Seungcheol has never once rushed you while getting ready. Never complained when you changed outfits four times. Never sighed dramatically or checked the clock every thirty seconds like some boyfriends did. If anything, he liked watching you get ready. Liked sitting nearby and talking to you while you did your makeup.

You give your lips one final press together before grabbing your bag and stepping out into the living room.

Seungcheol is exactly where you expected him to be—spread comfortably across the sofa with one arm resting behind his head, phone balanced in his hand while he scrolls absentmindedly through something. He's dressed already, dark jacket thrown over a simple shirt, hair slightly messy in that way that somehow only makes him look softer.

The second he hears you approach, he looks up and smiles lovingly.

"There's my girl," he murmurs, locking his phone and sitting up properly. "Ready to go, babe?"

You nod while walking toward him, already leaning down instinctively before you even stop in front of him. "Mhm."

Your lips brush against his in a quick kiss. His hand settle naturally against your waist, thumb rubbing absent circles through the fabric of your outfit before you pull away.

"Lemme just put on my heels," you mumble, pressing a kiss on his dimple.

By the time you're out, Seungcheol has already taken out the car. As you slide into the passenger seat,you see him tapping lightly against the steering wheel to the music playing softly through the speakers. The inside of the car smells faintly like his cologne and the iced coffee he insisted on grabbing earlier.

The moment you settle into your seat, he turns toward you slightly.

"You warm enough?" he asks automatically.

"Yes, dad."

"I'm serious," he says, reaching over to tug lightly at the sleeve of your jacket. "Last time you said you were fine and then stole my coat an hour later."

"That's because you're basically a human heater."

"You love it."

You do.

Instead of answering, you lean across the center console and kiss him again before buckling your seatbelt. This kiss lasts longer than the one from earlier.

Seungcheol kisses you lazily, one hand still resting on the wheel while the other comes up automatically to cup your jaw for a second. His lips are warm against yours, soft and familiar enough that kissing him feels less like an action and more like muscle memory at this point.

When you finally pull away, he looks faintly dazed for a second before starting the car properly.

The drive begins quietly.

Your phone rests in your lap while you scroll mindlessly through notifications, occasionally glancing up to look outside at the passing streetlights. Seungcheol hums softly along to the music under his breath, fingers tapping against the steering wheel.

Suddenly, you hear a tiny hiss from your side. Your brows pinch slightly, but you ignore it. When it happens again, you immediately glance up.

Seungcheol's face is scrunched slightly in confusion while he presses his lips together awkwardly. His tongue darts out to wet them before he bites lightly at the bottom one like he's trying to figure something out.

"What's wrong?" you ask.

"Dunno hun." He glances at you briefly before looking back at the road. "My lips feel weird."

"Weird how?"

"I don't know?" he tilts his head. "Like…burning?"

Your gaze drifts to his mouth,and the second you properly notice it, laughter bursts out of you so suddenly you nearly choke on air.

Seungcheol's head snaps toward you immediately. "Why are you laughing?"

"You—" you gasp between laughs, pointing uselessly toward him. "Babe, your lips."

"What about my lips?"

"Your lips got bigger." You wheeze.

"Babe stop playing." His voice drops.

"I'm serious!"

The panic on his face appears almost immediately after that. One hand flies up to yank down the vanity mirror above him while the other keeps the wheel steady. You watch his expression morph from confusion to absolute betrayal in real time.

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

The sound that leaves your mouth after that is somewhere between a laugh and a wheeze. Because his lips really are noticeably puffier now—soft and swollen and ridiculously glossy from him constantly rubbing them together.

"Oh my god," he groans, still staring at himself in horror. "Why do I look like I lost a fight with bees?"

"It's the lip plumper!" you finally manage to say. "I forgot I put it on!"

"You forgot?!" He looks genuinely scandalized. "You can transfer that stuff through kissing?!"

"I guess so!"

Despite his complaining, he keeps absentmindedly touching his lips every few seconds, brows furrowed while he processes the sensation.

Honestly, it's adorable. Especially because beneath all the whining, he still keeps leaning toward you at every red light like his body naturally gravitates in your direction.

"Babeuhhh," he whines miserably, sinking lower into his seat. "What am I supposed to do now? Your parents are gonna open the door and immediately start laughing at me."

"They are not." You place your hand over his thigh.

"Yes they are! Look at me!"

You laugh harder at the genuine panic in his voice

"They honestly don't even look that different," you insist. "Your lips were already big.”

He gasps softly, turning to look at you. "…You flirting with me right now while I'm suffering?"

You shrug casually, leaning across the center console again. This time, when you kiss him, he lets out the tiniest wounded whine into your mouth because the tingling definitely got worse but he still kisses you back immediately.

You pull away at the sound, eyes narrowing offended. "Do you not want me to kiss you?"

"When did I say that?" he mumbles instantly, pouting.

The pout only makes his lips look bigger.

you're finishing the last touches of dinner when you hear the sound of the front door opening and then closing, indication that your husband has finally made it home. you check the kitchen clock; 20:47, the latest he had arrived all week. you sigh, knowing that it must’ve been a pretty challenging day at work.

seungcheol comes into the kitchen then, looking beyond exhausted. he has dark bags below his eyes, and his hair looks a mess, strands all tangled up together and rumpled. and yet, as soon as he sees you, a tiny smile forms on his lips. that has never changed, not since the first moment you had met; seungcheol always smiles when he sees you.

“hi honey,” you softly greet him. he hums, dropping his jacket on a chair and dragging his tired feet to you. the second he reaches you, he pulls you to his chest, squeezing you tight, and lets his head fall into your neck. you hug him back, sliding your hand up and down his back in what you hope is a comforting gesture. “rough day?”

you feel him snort. “rough day, rough week, rough year.” he answers, his tone dripping with barely contained frustration.

you untangle yourself from his embrace, grabbing his face with both hands and standing on your tiptoes to be able to drop a long peck on his lips. and then another one, shorter. “go sit at the table, let’s eat so you can go to bed early, mm?”

he complies, and soon enough you’re both eating a delicious homemade dinner and making quiet conversation. to other people this routine might seem boring or monotonous, but for you, it is the highlight of your day.

nothing better than spending quality time with your husband, turning mundane tasks like eating, washing the dishes or brushing your teeth into special moments laced with precious intimacy. the touch of his hand on your thigh; a peck on your cheek, your neck, your shoulder; a soft squeeze on your waist. the simple act of cuddling on the couch with him makes you more giddy than any possible alternative plan, no matter how exciting it may sound.

after you both finish dinner seungcheol volunteers to clean the dishes, but you refuse, ushering him to the bathroom to take a shower so that he can be in bed as earliest as possible. he complies after some half-hearted grumbling, and before he leaves he leans down to peck your lips, murmuring a soft ‘thank you’.

while he showers you finish tidying up the table and washing the dishes, and soon you're getting ready for bed in your bedroom. it is then that you spot a small bottle of lavender oil hidden between your skincare products, and after some contemplating you get the idea to do something special for your husband, to help him release some of the stress his job had burdened him with.

when seungcheol comes out of the bathroom, cheeks pink and skin glowing, you’re waiting on the bed sitting against the headboard, oil in hand. he frowns when he sees it, head turning to the side like a puppy. “what’s that for?” he asks.

“come sit baby, I’ll give you a massage, let’s get rid off all those knots on your back.” you pat the space next to you, and you can see on his face that he’s more than delighted with that idea. yet, he stops himself before reaching the bed. “are you sure?,” he seems guilty. “you must be tired, you worked all day too. and then you cooked dinner.”

you huff. “don’t be silly. I didn’t work nearly as many hours as you. and I want to do it, I wouldn’t offer otherwise. come.”

he lets his shoulders drop and walks two big steps before faceplanting on the bed, groaning the second his body makes contact with the soft mattress. you wait until he finds a comfortable position, laying face down with both arms crossing under his head, and then you layer your hands in oil and begin to knead and rub at his skin. he whimpers and groans, his body relaxing more and more every second.

you make sure to put pressure on the spots on his back you know are extra knotted, and go softer on the parts where you know he’s more sensitive. you go back and forth, from shoulders to waist and up again, not leaving any spot untouched.

the ritual becomes soothing, not only for your husband but also for you. you love his body, and spending time worshiping it was one of your favorite things to do. you take the moment to stare at him, appreciating his strong shoulders, the mole on the back of his neck, his tattoo, the short hair on his nape.

in your eyes, no man has ever come close to him when it comes to looks. and while some may owe it to the fact that he was your first boyfriend (first everything, really), you think it’s something else. it’s because he’s your person, your soulmate, the only one you were meant to love, and so nobody else could ever compete against him. nobody else was even in the race. it has always been just him.

a soft snore coming from below catches your attention, and you realize he must have dozed off while you were too busy caught up in your thoughts. you keep caressing his back a bit more though, just to lull him into a deeper sleep, and while your hands grow softer, his snores get louder.

when you first started dating cheol back in college, his friends had asked you if it wasn’t difficult sleeping next to him because of his habit of snoring. but it had never bothered you; in fact, you found it rather cute. and now, after years of being together and sharing a bed, your husband's snoring had become your lullaby. anytime you were separated for a night, whether it was because of one of his business trips or your sleepovers at your sister’s house, you had a hard time falling asleep. the silence was unbearable, and it’d make you miss him even more.