𓏲ּ𝄢 ℒili

꩜｡ SYN. in which . . . seonghyeon and yn get caught up in fake dating rumours and are asked to get into a pr relationship.

꩜｡ PAIRING. cortis!eom seonghyeon x k-soloist!fem!reader

꩜｡ FEATURING. all cortis members | maki (&team) | iroha (illit) | chiquita (babymon) | louis (lngshot) | two of my lovely moots (hints: intercont & dubai chewy kono yk if yk) | etc.

꩜｡ GENRES. smau | fluff | some jealousy and slight angst | publicly annoyed, privately obsessed ahh

꩜｡ WARNINGS. ‘enemies’ (they pretend to hate each other i don’t even know why, seulbi asked me to do it, so i did it) to luvrs #hyeonyn | swearing, as always | mostly kazuha used as faceclaim for pictures! you can imagine yn however you want tho <3 | slight jealousy and angst | both of them somehow keep playing a lil bit of that ‘hard to get’ game | more will be added as the fic progresses <3

꩜｡ TAGLIST. perm&series tls open (comment which to be added to!)

꩜｡ SKYE’S NOTE. this was gonna be a miniseries but my ahh couldn’t stop yapping after 3 chapters so i js gave up and made it a whole series 😭✌️ also don’t slime me but juhoon series is currently on hold BECAUSE. because. i genuinely forgot my own plot and need to reread (it’s been over a month-ish since i wrote that series guys pls) 💀 HOWEVER this series is going much faster so i’ll probably post a chapter every week and get it done 😁💞 AND it is finals szn so if i do miss updates, pls don’t mind 🥹 i also have the ending of this fic done (i gen wrote the ending and then started writing the whole series AFTER that 😭) ENJOY THOOOO i hope y’all like my babies hyeonyn who i’ve been nurturing for the past month 🥹💞 [++ for anyone who remembers me crashing out about the corlit youtube short & woonhak interacting w cortis posts……. this is the fic i was talking about 😁]

꩜｡ MASTERLIST.

new chapters every tuesday!

𖦹 O1. what is dispatch on fr

𖦹 O2. you flirt like a middle school bully btw

𖦹 O3. more cute hyeonyn edits for u to watch and simp over ig

𖦹 O4. hello this is bighit entertainment

𖦹 O5. award goes to cortis of eom seonghyeon

𖦹 O6. yet you still stay / where else would i go

more chapters coming…

꩜｡ PERM TL. @jjuhyeons @miisoluvsdeer @myen2rude @its-vante @angelyseo @sailuvsu @sevvycoer @chbq2 @miseulsoup @bananabread785 @sstrawbxrry @pbananalover @griinspire @lcvehyeon @stxrrymarsz @ilovegojosatoru13 @lunaryoongie @aphantassia @teacuplps @marsgirltyshi @qngelical @thesvxntyb @mxddi3-the-mnm-lover @nic-andhisfics @yatta-exe @sw4gprinc3ss @casszzzii @mareliio @whitefang1919 @hollyoongs @haezki

꩜｡ SERIES TL. @chocom0ka

© hyuneskkami 2026.

Y’know, I think about you a lot. Actually, do you remember that night I answered three phone calls during dinner because the producer kept changing the arrangement? Little old me being teased by little old you for apologizing to everyone except myself. But the truth is I was happy. Exhausted down to the marrow and still I was so happy. I think that should’ve told you everything. 

There’s just that look you’d give me, you feel? Could be anywhere, my bed, my old junky studio, on my lap where you’d tell me to get my mind off it, all of it. Everywhere I talked about my plans, or muttered some lyrics under my breath instead of, I don’t know, sleeping. You’d look at me like I was something tragic. But I was alive. I felt that I was. You’d tell me once a day, “you’d work yourself to death if someone let you.” And maybe the scary thing about that is I understood exactly what you meant, and still, I would think of what I could make before then. 

There is just so much hunger in me, Y/n, and I always want to obey it. I have begun to wonder whether this was a flaw or some form of faith. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, only that it’s mine. This relentlessness. It’s kinda funny isn’t it, that of all the things I could’ve spent my life worshipping, it was always the future. I was obsessed with it. You had called me wild with determination once, but have you thought that through enough? I’ve never believed a wild creature was meant to bow its head in regret for wanting too much. 

Would you have given up your own ambitions to cross a thousand miles and be with me? Tire with me? Alright. I’ll say it now, and perhaps you might understand where I’m coming from. 

Leave behind that student organization, the Saturday classes and that shitty after-school tutor I know you still go to, all that hard work in the past, and feel this with me again. 

Would you have done it if I told you? I wouldn’t.

Often, I think this makes me selfish. Other times, I think I’m just as honest as can be. Is it greater a love to cross oceans for someone and measure how thoroughly I can abandon myself for that, or admitting there are some distances I’d rather not run in the name of it? I don’t love lightly, you know that. But God do I not dream lightly either. And when something in me reaches for the horizon, I can’t always be easily persuaded to turn around. Not even you, or those asking eyes I would call home,  have ever fully convinced me to go back. I’d choose you, yes, but I’d choose me too. And right now, those may be two truths but they are strangers to each other. 

I want to be one of the remarkables one day. Maybe I am selfish, Y/n. Is that so bad? 

Think of all the people out there who much prefer peace more than a little purpose. I don’t envy them a bit, as comforting as a peaceful life may sound. Imagine loving a life that doesn’t consume you whole. Imagine not needing to become more tomorrow than you were today. 

I don’t wanna toot my own horn, but I think I might be different from everyone else. People like to speak of dreams as though they’re luxuries and optional things. A lot of people around me and this business like to say that, actually. Fuck, I think it’s stupid. A dream may as well be the spine of a life. It holds you so upright that to wake up is to collapse. I am my dreams or I am nothing at all. 

Can’t help it that I miss you, though. Of course I miss you. I miss you terribly, and I’m sorry it took me months of waiting to tell you. I miss the feeling of having you close, of doing all your homework when you fell asleep on your desk or on the floor. I miss the sight of you tangled up in my own smelly sheets, and remembering how you used to call me pretty, touch my hair, tell me you loved me and that it was enough. 

And as contradictory as this sounds, I miss how greedy you were with me. When you’d stop me at the door and kiss me onto the couch, and I’d miss a whole day of practice altogether. Or whenever you’d purposefully SOS my phone during production hours, and I’d run back panicking only for you to tell me the emergency was that you missed me. The crazier thing is that you did this so many times, and I had done the same thing in each one. I was so pathetic then. 

And did you know? I still love you, haha (did I say that too much?). For even just once in my life, I’m glad that I'm able to say that I’ve experienced the most terrifying phenomenon in every person’s existence that is falling in love. It’s a feeling that lives so close to the bone, and the body will keep what mine cannot afford to forget. Thank you for this. For you. I’ll have to write a song about it before I can make peace with that feeling. I hope you won’t mind. 

But right now, I have a stage for tomorrow, a recording set for later, and every hour there is a song in production just waiting to be finished. I have a team to lead as much as they are friends to grow with, and sometimes they’ll ask more of me than what I think I can give. You can say I’m being worn thin by the things I love most, but what I used to call exhaustion I now realize is just my devotion, except I often push it to its edge, so it may look a little different at times. These pieces of myself that I give are being spent on this thing I love enough to keep feeding, and I don’t think its hunger is something I ever want to sate. 

I don’t think my thoughts come from a lack of love. I’ll always love you, especially now that my head's a little clearer and I’ve finally found my way toward things. But I would’ve resented you for the life I never got to live, even if giving it up would’ve been my choice and mine alone. 

So, from all the things I’ve said now, I don’t want to apologize for any of it. Wanting you was never the problem but abandoning myself would’ve been. And to be honest, I don’t think I could’ve made myself betray every chance at a future I got just to prove that. Maybe that sounds cold, or maybe it’s only the truth: that a dream, once you’ve fully imagined it, becomes another kind of body inside you. And asking someone to give it up isn’t always love, you know.

Wherever you are in the world, and wherever you’ll end up in a month or a year, I hope you’ll do the same for yourself, even if it means doing it far away from me. Now you can curse me out or diss me online or ring up my parents and tell them what a bad ex-boyfriend I am for this, but I love you now, I love you tomorrow, and I’ll love you in the next week or two. I’m young so I still don’t know how to move people along the line, and I don’t think I have to worry about that for a long while. But I would’ve still kept walking. I really would’ve.

See you around,

tin

(p.s. if you ever end up in my city, i hope it's for something good)

It was usual to take your time packing your things, not feeling the collective sense of urgency to leave like your classmates. Your fingers smoothed over the edge of your notebook before placing it carefully into your bag, aligning it with the others out of habit. The late afternoon sun had begun to settle low once you stepped outside, turning the dust in the courtyard into something almost golden.

As per usual, the boys had taken over the field, running without restraint while their shoes kicked up dry earth with every turn. The girls stayed closer to the edges, gathered in small groups to keep their past conversations going, or simply watched them play.

“Did you hear about Sunhee?” Near you, two girls stood close together, speaking in hushed tones.

The other leaned in. “No—what happened?”

“She was seen walking with—” Despite how badly you wanted to know that piece of information, your attention was diverted for longer than you’d care to admit

He stood in the corridor with a teacher in front of him. His uniform was perfectly neat; the dark jacket sat straight across his shoulder, the brass buttons catching the light as he moved. The only thing that barely messed up his polished self was a faint trace of chalk along one of his sleeves, as though he had brushed against the board earlier without noticing.

He gave the teacher his full attention, his posture straightening almost instinctively. When the teacher finished speaking, he bowed—clean and measured, neither exaggerated nor careless.

“Yes, sir.” Despite the low tone, it was clear enough to reach where you stood.

The teacher gave a short nod. “Make sure you review that section again. You were close.”

“I will,” Another bow, smaller this time, and the teacher moved on.

You were too immersed to notice how Wonhee nudged your arm lightly beside you. “You’re not listening at all today.”

You blinked, turning toward her. “I am.”

She didn’t believe you, but she let it go. “We’re going to the market later. Are you coming?”

“Maybe.”

“You always say that.” A faint smile appeared on your face, your attention already drifting back. This time, he had stepped down into the courtyard, now joining the others. 

“Juhoon! Don’t just stand there!” A boy whom you recognized as Seonghyeon threw him a ball, and the catch was so easy that it made his friends cheer him on.

“Hey,” The voice from Yunah softly broke in as she followed your gaze. “Who are you looking at?”

“No one,” you answered a little too quickly.

“Are you looking at Kim Juhoon?” The bell rang sharply, a clear cue to dissolve the moment into motion again before you can answer. Students began to move toward the gates, voices blending in familiar patterns. 

Trying to keep up with the conversation between your two friends was a little hard as you nodded at the right moments and offered brief responses when needed. It wasn’t difficult to stay present enough that no one questioned you; it was your forte, even when part of your attention was somewhere else.

And yet, just before all three reached the gate, you turned your head just enough to find him again.

Kim Juhoon… that’s a pretty name for a pretty boy. The name settled more easily in your mind than you expected.

At the time, you didn’t think much of it. Names were just names, and people existed around you every day without leaving any real impression. So why was there something about him that seemed so different that it stuck with you a little longer than usual? In a way, that should have been the end of it, but when your eyes noticed him again the next day, you knew it wasn’t.

It was surprising that it was not deliberate; you weren’t looking for him. Simply more aware of where people stood, how they moved, and of the small changes that others overlooked. It was something you had always done without thinking.

He sat near the front during morning assembly. Again, back straight, right through the teacher's speech, which was longer than necessary. He definitely carried the idea of the ideal student when you saw him ignore his friend's whisper and keep his gaze forward.

Later, in class, you realized he wrote quickly—but never carelessly. He didn’t pause to think of what to write; he paused to make sure it was right.

“Why do you keep looking over there? It has been a couple of days.” You startled slightly, turning to Wonhee, who had already caught you in the act.

“I’m not.”

It didn't take long for her to stop where your gaze fell. “You totally are.”

“I was just thinking.”

“About him?” she asked, not bothering to lower her voice as much this time.

“... No.”

Yunah leaned forward from the other side, resting her chin lightly on her hand. “It’s not a bad choice,” she said, almost thoughtfully. “He’s pretty, but not… reliable.”

“That’s what you’re looking for?” Wonhee teased.

“It’s what everyone is looking for,” Yunah replied simply.

It was the first time you didn't respond because you weren't sure that was really what you were sensing. As days passed by, it happened more often that you even began to recognize patterns.

He arrived earlier than most and always from the same direction, would greet the teachers properly, even when others only bowed halfway or not at all, and most importantly, he studied quietly, talked briefly and to the point, and became his friendly self when he was with his usual group of friends.

Once, you saw him lend a pencil to another student without being asked without making a point of it or wait for thanks—just passed it over and returned to his work. Another time, during a short break where Wonhee spoke about his interaction with Keonho, his friends tried to pull him into a game.

“Juhoon, come on. Just one round.”

“I can’t,” he replied, who you believed was Seonghyeon.

“Again?”

“I have something to finish.”

“Tell us something we don't know.” At that, he gave a small, almost apologetic smile, not moving from his seat. Due to the look on his face, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to join them; it was that he chose not to.

“Again? It’s like a million times today.” Wonhee murmured, barely hiding her teasing smile.

“No!”

“You were.”

“I’m not.” Yunah glanced between the two of you, then back toward him. “If you’re going to look, at least be less obvious.”

“I’m not being obvious,” the tone was quieter, eating one piece of kimbap to keep you busy. Both of them looked at you. You sighed, mouth muffling your words. “…Am I?”

Wonhee smiled. “Only to us.”

That should have embarrassed you, but it didn’t. It was a matter of time before your brain noticed things before they happened—when he would stand, speak, and leave.

And you couldn’t escape the fact of his overall appearance. He was handsome, to say the least, with slightly large brown eyes that turned hazel in the light, and a wide smile that surfaced easily when his friend James made him laugh. His dark hair fell in a soft fringe over his forehead; his slim, graceful build made the structured uniform look both formal and effortless.

God, you even noticed the faint mole just below his right jawline, visible only when he turned his head a certain way, adding a quiet touch of character to his already youthful features. Each day, your brain seemed to dedicate itself to noticing him—to sensing the way youth sat on him so naturally, and how many people envied him while he didn’t even realize he carried it like a blessing.

His skin had that untroubled clarity to it, smooth and bright enough to catch the light when he smiled, making everything about him feel a little warmer—an almost ethereal contrast to the colder persona he tried to portray. As the sun went down, a faint, natural flush would rise softly to his cheeks, fleeting and unfair in the way it made him look younger—or perhaps exactly his age, in the most disarming way.

And when he did smile? Oh, his smile.

His lips curved depending on the moment—slightly downturned at rest when he was holding back a thought or a joke—but that only made his smiles feel more genuine when they came. And it wasn’t just the smile itself—it was how quickly it arrived, how it slipped out before he could stop it. It was the kind of smile that belonged to someone who hadn’t yet learned to measure every reaction, to dull things down for the sake of composure.

There was a carelessness to him—not reckless, it was mostly unaware. As if he hadn’t yet realized how closely the world could look at you. He moved without that weight; the way he stood once as he waited for a girl outside another classroom gave him away. There was a loose rhythm to him, a slight swing of his arms, trusting that the ground would meet him every time. He didn’t hold himself like someone trying to be seen, especially outside of school; his shoulders stayed relaxed, his posture easy and unforced.

And then there were the small, unconscious habits that made him feel younger than he probably realized. The way he leaned in when his friends goofed around, how his fingers tapped absentmindedly against his sleeve when he was thinking, or how he tilted his head just slightly when something intrigued him. That one was your favorite.

He didn’t really guard himself; even when that colder expression crossed his face and pulled his features into something more distant, it never fully held. Something always shone through: a flicker in his eyes, a half-formed smile, a softness that refused to disappear.

Maybe that was why people noticed him without meaning to—why you felt almost hypnotized the first time you saw him. That contradiction made people like you look twice. Because, in your mind, youth—real youth—wasn’t just in smooth skin or bright eyes. It was in the way everything about him felt unfinished in the best possible sense. Just like you, he was still shifting and unaware of which parts of himself would stay and which would fade.

And the strangest part? He didn’t seem to know it at all. It came to him naturally, the same way you had always noticed shifts before anyone else did.

Only now did the shift have a name: Kim Juhoon.

JUHOON's POV

July 23rd, 1960

He adjusted the strap of his bag as he stepped onto the road, the noise of the school fading behind him, replaced by the softer sounds of animals. The path home was familiar enough that he didn’t need to think about it, leaving his mind free to return to more pressing matters. The math test. He replayed the last question, frowning slightly.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the ground if you keep thinking like that.” Keonho caught up to him, hands tucked loosely into his pockets.

“It wasn’t difficult. I just didn’t answer it as well as I should have.”

Keonho chuckled. “You say that every time, and you get it right.”

“Because I’m usually right.”

“See? That’s the problem. You’re always right, and it’s still not enough.” Juhoon didn’t respond, focused on kicking a pebble instead, until Keonho nudged him. “By the way—”

“What?”

“There’s a girl who keeps looking at you.”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve seen it. In class. She’s always—” he gestured vaguely, “—watching.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“I’m not. The quiet girl by the window—the one with the binyeo. She’s been looking at you for at least a month.”

That made him pause, a binyeo? Then he nudged Keonho back, sharper this time. “So you’ve been paying more attention to her than your lessons?”

Keonho scoffed. “I’m a loyal man. My heart’s already taken—by one of her friends.” Juhoon let out a short laugh, quiet at first, then louder at the faint color rising to Keonho’s cheeks.

When the laughter died down, Juhoon looked ahead. “…I know who you mean.”

“See?”

“But that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Maybe not. But it’s still interesting.”

Juhoon shook his head, his expression settling. “It’s not.”

Keonho sighed. “You’re no fun.”

“That’s not my concern.”

They reached the turn where their paths split, and the youngest gave him a friendly pat on his back. “Don’t think about the test all night! You’ll survive one mistake.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” As Keonho left, Juhoon continued alone, though the conversation occupied his mind longer than expected.

He was used to Keonho’s teasing—that was easy to ignore. The mention of the girl wasn’t. She was quiet during lessons; that much was true. He had seen her with her friends: she was more expressive, although never enough to catch anyone’s attention—except for those who were already looking at her, and she was composed and always stayed that way. She perfectly blended herself into the background—unless you chose to notice.

And until now, he hadn’t.

The thought had already begun to fade once he reached his street. His grandmother stood outside the gate, adjusting a basket of tangerines, the bright color standing out against the muted tones of the yard.

“Grandma, you should’ve called me.”

She clicked her tongue softly at the sight of him taking the basket from her, though she let him. “You just came back from school, and I can still carry a few tangerines.”

“They’re not light,” he replied, steadying the weight in his arms.

“And neither are you,” she said, eyeing him briefly. “You’ve grown again.”

He didn’t answer that, only shifted the basket more securely before stepping inside with her.

From the kitchen, the faint sound of his mother already preparing the evening meal, and the smell of a soup simmering drifted into the courtyard.

“You’re back?” she said without turning fully. “Wash your hands soon.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Took you long enough.” Juhoon glanced over. His older brother, Soobin, sat with one knee pulled up, a book resting loosely in his hand. He wasn’t really reading it—just flipping through pages like he had nowhere else to be.

“I walked home,” Juhoon said.

“With Keonho?” Soobin asked lowly with the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Yes.”

“Mm.” The tall one nodded once, convinced. “Then I guess you were talking the whole way.”

Juhoon set the basket down with a quiet exhale. “Not the whole way.”

“Of course not,” Soobin said lightly. “I used to take that one to forget that I have exams coming up.”

Juhoon rolled his sleeves back slightly. “I didn’t forget.”

“I know,” Soobin replied, finally looking up at him properly. “You never do.”

Their mother glanced between them briefly without interrupting, continuing what she was doing right after she gave a kiss on his cheek. He could hear the faint rustle of newspaper pages turning, marking their father’s presence in the living room, remaining silent as he digested the news.

Juhoon moved to wash his hands, the cool water running over his fingers before he dried them clean and grabbed the utensils.

“So, how was the test?”

“I think I made a mistake.”

Soobin let out a small breath through his nose. “You say that like the world’s ending.”

“I know it’s not, but I can’t stop thinking about it,” Juhoon said.

“Good, then just fix it next time.”

The smile he gave him was comforting enough that he copied it. “I will. Don’t worry about it.”

“Obviously,” Soobin said, leaning back slightly. “You’d bother me all week if you didn’t.”

“Everyone! Dinner’s ready.”

“Going,” Juhoon slowed, just a step behind the others, to help his grandma stand up from her rocking chair. “Wow, Grandma. You are getting better at drawing.”

His tone was light, almost teasing, but his grandmother formed a pleased smile. “You think so?”

He nodded, reaching down to steady her arm as she rose. “These are different.”

Up close, the flowers were more detailed than he first thought. Due to his grandma’s drawing abilities, they weren’t just simple petals—clusters layered carefully, and each one slightly uneven. The tiny, round buds gathered together, with faint lines suggesting stems or threads holding them in place.

“They’re pretty,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

“They are, I saw them at the market.”

Juhoon paused. “How? It’s really hard to get flowers at times like this.”

She hummed, taking a slow step forward with his help. “A girl helped me carry the basket on the bus. It was brief since she had to do something.” Her eyes softened, recalling it. “But the flowers stayed in my mind. So I drew them before I forgot.”

“A girl?” 

His grandmother chuckled. “Don’t sound so interested all of a sudden.”

“I’m not,” he said quickly.

“They were in her hair. A binyeo.” She gestured faintly with her free hand. “Soft colors. Pink, maybe. You know, I’ve never seen a piece so pretty since your grandfather gifted me one.”

Juhoon glanced back at the notebook. Soft pink, clustered, and carefully placed without looking messy. The same vague image brushed against his thoughts again.

“You remembered all that just from seeing her once?”

“You don’t always choose what you remember. Some things just settle in and stay.”

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he reached over and gently closed the notebook, focusing on getting his grandma to the table.

“Let’s go.” They moved toward the others, slowing down for her.

Juhoon kept his gaze forward. It didn’t matter. A random girl with a binyeo and his grandmother’s sketch. That was all it was. And yet, as he walked, the image stayed—clearer and more defined than it had any right to be.

He exhaled quietly, the sudden distraction bothering him. He wouldn’t let something that small take up space in his mind. And yet, it did.

Dinner passed in its usual rhythm. The clink of chopsticks against metal bowls, the quiet exchange of small remarks, his mother asking if the kimchi had enough salt, his father folding the newspaper only after finishing the last column—nothing out of place or worth remembering.

Juhoon answered when spoken to, ate what was given, and kept his posture straight without thinking of it. The conversation drifted around him more than it included him, but that had always been the case, and the same went for his brother. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just pretty normal.

Still, somewhere between one bite and the next, his grandmother’s words returned.

“You don’t always choose what you remember.”

He frowned faintly, lowering his gaze to his bowl. That didn’t make sense. Memory wasn’t random—it followed logic, repetition, and importance. That’s what he believed and how he studied; you focused on what mattered, and the rest faded.

That was how it should be.

“Juhoon.”

He looked up. “I’m sorry, yes?”

“You’re thinking again,” his mother kindly said, her hand fixing his hair. “Please focus on your food.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, almost automatically.

Soobin let out a quiet laugh. “Your mind must be busy today, huh?”

Juhoon didn’t argue this time; his brother knew him too well.

After dinner, he gathered the empty bowls, stacking them neatly before bringing them into the kitchen. The warm water stung slightly against his hands as he washed them. As soon as he finished, the house had settled into its usual quieter state. His father had returned to his reading; his mother moved more slowly now as she put things away, and his grandmother’s soft humming drifted faintly from the other room before she turned the TV on.

Juhoon dried his hands and stepped outside; it was his usual routine to prepare himself for a long night. The cool air of the evening brought him enough comfort to ease his mind, as he pleasantly enjoyed the faint edge that came just before night fully settled in. The sky was darker now, the last traces of light barely holding onto the horizon, and somewhere down the street, he could hear a radio playing softly. 

He exhaled, letting the quiet sit with him, leaning back slightly against the wooden post behind him, arms crossing loosely. This was the part of the day he preferred when everything slowed enough for him to organize his thoughts properly before studying, taking his time to close his eyes and breathe deeply, just like he used to see his grandma do.

Despite his efforts, that binyeo came back to his head. Juhoon clicked his tongue softly under his breath, annoyed at himself this time. It didn’t make sense for him to think about it. 

Most of the people he knew who wore that particular hairpiece were adult married women, which is why it made her recognizable in a community where braids and ponytails were standard, which was exactly why it stayed in his mind longer than it should have. That was the reason it made sense to him.

Juhoon opened his eyes again, gaze settling past the low wall, though he wasn’t really looking at anything in particular. The image remained vague—more impression than detail—he shifted slightly against the post, uncrossing his arms before crossing them again, as if adjusting his posture might also settle his thoughts. It didn’t. Maybe his grandmother had misremembered.

That was possible. Ever since the day her mother decided to take care of her because of her age, he saw how his grandmother’s mind was also slowly aging. She worked from memory when she drew, and her memory had a way of softening things, changing them without permission. Either the colors blurred, or the shapes shifted, but she had been so certain.

Juhoon exhaled slowly through his nose. It didn’t matter. 

An unfamiliar low hum of an engine interrupted his internal fight. Juhoon’s attention shifted immediately, his head turning slightly toward the road. The sound grew louder, then steadied before slowing.

A Sibal car came into view. Its headlights cut briefly across the wall before dimming as it pulled to a stop right in front of his house. The car wasn’t new, but it was well-kept, with clean lines and no visible damage, clear as the day that the owner cared for it. 

The driver’s door opened first, and a man stepped out, one polished shoe meeting the ground before the rest of him followed once the engine idled. He straightened slowly, rolling his shoulders to most likely ease the stiffness from the drive, closing the door with care, not letting it slam, and turned briefly toward the house across from Juhoon’s. His gaze scanned—taking in the gate, the small yard, the structure itself. Confirming.

Juhoon followed that line of sight instinctively. The “For Sale” sign was gone completely. He didn’t notice when the passenger door opened and someone emerged into his sight more slowly; what he did was catch the fading light from her hair. 

A half-up secured with a binyeo holding her hair neatly in place, with a soft detail at the end that caught what little light remained. Pink or something close to it. That’s when his eyes widen slightly.

The girl smoothed her skirt absentmindedly before glancing toward the unfamiliar surroundings, her quiet yet contained movement feeling too familiar, making it easy to connect the dots between the past conversations he had had. One of the streetlights made her face more visible, finally putting a face to the object.

She looked exactly like someone who had not yet realized she was being looked at; an unguarded youth settled on her naturally, from the ease of her posture to the softness that hadn’t been shaped into anything yet. Every feature of her delicate face conveyed a certain beauty that he couldn’t quite put his finger on from a distance; her slightly parted lips faced the street, as if these narrow roads and quiet houses would be the ones to watch her grow over the next few years, too busy taking it all in to think about being seen. Still, it felt difficult for him to look away once he had started, as though there was something in that unawareness that held him there longer than he intended.

While the light didn’t do her justice, at least not enough to define her features so much as to rest on them, he couldn’t help but notice the faintest trace of melancholy in the way her gaze moved quietly and observantly rather than bright with excitement. She didn’t fidget with the medium-sized cardboard box in her hands as most would, nor did she rush to follow her—presumably—father toward the entrance; instead, she remained where she was for a moment longer, existing within the stillness, carrying a composure that didn’t feel practiced, only natural.

It made her seem older at first glance, and yet, the longer he looked, the clearer it became that it was the opposite—that this quiet steadiness was part of her youth, not separate from it, and very unrefined and unguarded in a way that made it all the more real.

It happened without warning—the moment her gaze lifted and met his.

For a second, neither of them moved, the distance between the two houses collapsing into something far smaller than it should have been. Up close—or as close as that distance allowed—there was a flicker in her expression, realizing she was no longer alone in her quiet observation. Her eyes widened slightly, the composure slipping just enough to reveal the girl beneath it, and just as quickly as it appeared, she looked away, the motion small yet immediate.

“Sweetheart, come take a look!” the man spoke, and her shift was sudden. She adjusted her hold on the box, almost too quickly now, and without sparing another glance, she turned and moved toward the gate, her steps no longer as unhurried as before. The door opened, then closed behind her, and just like that, she was gone.

Juhoon remained where he was. A coincidence, that’s all. It wasn’t unusual to see people move. Houses changed owners, and the streets were meant not to stay the same forever. There was no reason for this to feel like anything more than that.

From inside, he heard the faint creak of his own front door.

“Juhoon?” his mother called lightly. “Who is it?”

He turned his head slightly. “New neighbors.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s a father and his daughter. The man came in the afternoon to move their stuff.” She spoke again, the leftover kimbap from his hand going to his mouth after his words.

There was a brief pause before his brother stepped out with Grandma by her side to see for herself. “Ah… I see. Hopefully, they are kind.”

Across the street, the man came out again, noticing them looking directly at their property, and gave a polite nod, one that his mother returned almost immediately. And by the look on her face, a proper introduction would come later. He stepped back, turning toward the door, the moment already beginning to close in the most uneventful way ever. As he entered his room, partially ready to study, his gaze went to his window.

There she was again, this time with more comfortable clothing, her hair completely loose, a few strands falling softly against her face as she moved about the room without urgency. The light inside her house was warmer, embracing everything about her, making her seem even more distant despite being closer than before. She continued unpacking, and Juhoon stood there for a moment longer than necessary before looking away.

It was nothing. Just a neighbor across the street, someone he happened to go to the same high school, and there was no reason to think about it beyond this, especially since there were more important things waiting for him. Pop quizzes and exams didn’t allow room for distractions, and he had never been the kind to create them for himself.

After a quick shower, he pulled his chair back, opening his notebook to the same page from earlier. The numbers were still there, waiting for him to do what he always did—focus, correct, and move forward.

It would have been impossible to avoid your friends’ questions about the move when you had spent the whole week talking about it, only to fall silent now. You hadn’t gotten used to having Juhoon as a neighbor yet, much less expected that, out of everyone, it would be him—the one who had already unsettled your heart.

Every morning for the past week and a half, the new street became familiar as you created your own route to avoid him, making your usual stop before going to school. 

Whenever you entered, it was usually the same noise—some mornings heavy with the low-energy vibration of a Monday morning, others softened by the sunlight filtering through the tall windows, dust drifting in golden haze.

You sat at your desk near the window as usual, when two chairs suddenly scraped close. The sight of Wonhee and Yunha leaning over your desk with their eyes bright with curiosity made you chuckle a little.

“So?” Wonhee whispered, “Did you see him this morning? Did he say anything?”

“No,” you murmured, pulling your literature textbook from your bag. “We’re just neighbors, it’s normal.”

“Normal doesn’t make you turn that shade of pink,” Yunah teased, resting her chin on her palm.

You didn’t answer because, at that moment, he walked in. As usual, he moved unhurriedly, his perfectly ironed gakuran-style jacket embracing his body. “Have you ever thought of confessing?”

Your head snapped toward her, “Are you insane? No.”

“You have an advantage. He’s your neighbor—” Yunha used her hands to emphasize her argument, disappointed in how you denied.

“I actually spoke with Keonho about you, so we can—” The confession made your pens drop, eyes shamefully wide. 

“You said something about my crush on him?” The whisper came out sharper than you intended.

“No!” Wonhee rushed. “He asked first! He noticed you looking at him. That’s when we started paying attention. We didn’t know about your feelings until now.”

Oh, God.

“Good norming, everyone. Let’s begin the class.” The teacher’s voice settled over the room firmly. Wonhee and Yunha exchanged one last look at you before retreating to their seats. You kept your eyes on your desk, heat still clinging to your skin.

The panic of one person knowing—one that was so close to him—and exposing you sent shivers down your spine. You didn’t dare look up, hearing the chalk tapping steadily against the board in the background. 

Normally, you would have followed along easily, but your hand remained still as that lingering thought began to press against your mind: He knows.

Or worse, Keonho might know, and he might say it.

The graphite hovered over the page before finally touching down. Each of the strokes was carefully written down your book slowly and unnaturally, but despite your efforts, your thoughts kept drifting.

“...open your notebooks and copy this down.” The teacher’s voice cut through your thoughts.

The notebook was pulled safely onto your desk before flipping it open. The soft rustle of the paper, accompanied by the sound of a few pens being unscrewed, was strangely comforting. 

“Is something wrong, Juhoon?” The teacher’s question made everyone look up, their pens pausing mid-writing as their attention drifted towards him without anyone saying a word. Yours included.

He was already half-standing from his seat, one hand inside his bag, the other pushing aside books with restrained urgency that didn’t match him.

“I—” he started, stopping abruptly. His brows drew together faintly. “I think I forgot my notebook.” 

A few people chuckled under their breath, his friends included. The teacher sighed, tapping the chalk once against the board before turning fully toward him. “You think, or you did?”

Juhoon glanced down at his bag again, as if the answer might appear if he searched hard enough. “I did.”

“Then borrow one,” the teacher replied, his back facing all of us. “And copy everything before the end of class.” 

“Y/N has an extra!” The tip of your pencil snapped faintly. Wonhee’s voice cut through the room with clarity, pulling every gaze toward you.

Warmth flooded your ears. “Wonhee—” you hissed. Yunah covered her mouth, barely containing a laugh, and Wonhee just looked satisfied with what he had done.

He was looking at you when you decided to turn around quietly to confirm rather than discovering something else. As he approached, your heartbeat pounded faster.

The opportunity of laughing it off before denying it was there, and instead, you just sat there, fingers tightening around the broken pencil still in your hand. 

“Can I?” he asked, gesturing toward your bag.

Your mind lagged. “My—? Oh. Yes. I mean—yes.”

It felt like your back cracked as you turned, quickly leaving your broken pencil aside and reaching into your bag to pull the extra notebook your dad has insisted you bring “in case,” its cover still a little too stiff, matching its mostly untouched pages.

“Here.”

Unconsciously, your hand passed over the front once and brushed your fingers with his hand when he reached for it. It was so light you barely missed it if it wasn’t for Juhoon’s eyes on yours when it happened. You carefully pulled your hand back, missing how he slightly bowed with gratitude.

“Thank you.” He returned to his seat to gather the rest of his things, as nothing happened.

“Still nothing?” Yunha murmured, her gaze on you.

“Still noting.” Not even your voice believed that.

After four hours and finally resting in your house, the sky had turned into that quiet blue of early night. It felt weird to see how the first few pages were no longer untouched, and his handwriting filled the top of one page neatly. It wasn’t special, and yet you stared at it longer than expected after finishing your homework.

The tip of your finger traced the faint indentations left behind by his pen, and your pencil found your hand before you thought about it

You didn’t think, just wrote it. Juhoon.

The name looked too intentional sitting there alone, so you draw a heart next to it. You stared at it, feeling your heart beating a little faster than it should have.

“Honey, dinner’s ready!” The door opened before you could react properly. Your dad stood there, clearly watching the way you jolted before placing your hand over the page and erasing everything at a speed that felt almost unnatural, closing the notebook to stop staring at it. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” you said, standing a little too fast. “Let’s go.”

Dinner moved around you without landing. Your dad’s voice carried stories from work, including late deliveries, conversations that slipped sideways. Still, guilt lingered in its place for not engaging like usual because your mind wasn’t fully there.

Chopsticks clicked softly against porcelain. “You’ve been quiet tonight.”

“Just tired.” 

His gaze lingered on you as silence pressed in. “For what it’s worth, your mom used to get like that.”

“Like what?”

“Somewhere else,” he said, a faint smile threading through memory. “All the right answers, none of the attention.”

“I’m listening.”

“I know. Just thinking.” An ache rose to the point it was difficult to ignore. The chopsticks where placed next to your plate.

“How did you know?”

“Know what?”

Your fingers pressed into the fabric of your pajama. “…How did you know you loved Mom?”

The room stilled, and the radio static hummed low like a distant echo. He leaned back, exhaling slowly, something he used to do when a memory settled over. “That’s a serious question.”

“Just want to know.” 

A nod. “At first? Nothing felt important.” 

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. Just another familiar person whom I used to have occasional conversations with. Then, the details stayed in my mind.”

“Such as?”

“The way she laughed at things no one else noticed.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “The quiet around her when she thought. Also, the way she made space for people—even when space was all she had. None of that felt big back then, that’s the part no one tells.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s not sudden and loud. Stories get that wrong.”

“Then what?”

“Quiet. So quiet it’s easy to miss.”

Both of his elbows touched the table. His head was resting on top of his fists with his eyes fixed on the framed picture of them. “It shows up in habits. Wanting to tell her everything first. Wondering what she’d say, even when she’s gone. Remembering without trying.” His voice softened. “And then, everything begins to include her.”

“That sounds—”

“Complicated?” A small nod. “It can be. But back then, it wasn’t.”

“What did it feel like?”

A faint smile returned. “So familiar that it felt that it had always been there and I’d been blind this whole time.”

“And how you knew it wasn’t a phase?”

“Because I gave it a chance. Even when the chaos was everywhere, that feeling stayed.”

“And then?”

“I chose it.”

“Choose it?”

“Feelings arrive on their own. Staying doesn’t. At some point, a decision happens.”

“And if certainty isn’t there yet?”

“It doesn’t need to be. Not at the start. Just pay attention to what stays.” A pause. “Love isn’t about a face. It’s about what remains when everything else fades.”

The warmth of his palm brushed your cheek.

“A face catches attention,” he continued softly, “but a person keeps it. From the way they think to how they treat people, especially when they finally show you who they are when no one’s watching. That’s what makes someone real. And real—”

That small gesture, the one always used to pass the ending over. A laugh slipped out. “—is what stays.”

“Exactly.”

His hand dropped back to the table.“Plenty of people are easy to like from a distance,” he went on. “There’s no risk, responsibility, or need to show up. Closeness asks more, and not everyone’s willing to give that... If something lives in hesitation,” he said, “in almosts, in unsaid things, it doesn’t and won’t last. Maybe it never even begins. Love shouldn’t feel hidden or uncertain.”

He leaned back, reaching for the kimchi to balance the deep conversation. “The right person won’t leave you guessing when they know it’s the one; you won’t have background roles. That person must be next to you, upgrading you every single time.”

“That’s what you did with mom?”

A flicker of mischief crossed his face, “She actually didn’t make it hard. She shone so brightly that the sun was jealous.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was always meant to be seen. And I…” His two thumbs pointed at himself with a small shrug. “I just made sure she shone the way she deserved.”

The conversation stuck with you more than you meant it. You waited for him to leave your room after a kiss on the forehead once you both were ready to sleep for the next day, then opened your notebook again. The faint outline of a name was still visible beneath where you had tried to erase it, but you let it stay.

JUHOON's POV

The afternoon hit when Juhoon finished copying what he annotated on his neighbor's notebook, a clear indicator of it was that particular shade between evening and night in the sky he liked. It was time to return it.

He reached for his jacket first before entering the hallway, and his reflection caught him off guard. Juhoon’s eyes scan over himself—collar straight, hair not completely out of place, nothing noticeably off.

“I’m going out for a bit,” he called, already slipping his shoes on.

His mother’s voice followed from inside. “Don’t be long!”

“I won’t.”

The night air greeted him immediately, a few children here and there playing before dinner. He crossed without hesitation once he noticed her house had the lights on, lifting his gaze toward the window out of habit, stopping himself since there was no reason to look.

He knocked, clearly hearing footsteps approaching, and soon, the door opened, revealing her.

Up close, nothing changed—and yet, it did. Her hair was loose and partially wet, not as carefully arranged as it had been earlier in the week, a few strands resting against her face like they hadn’t decided where to settle. Her expression went from composed to slightly surprised.

“I—” He adjusted slightly, holding out the notebook. “I forgot to give you this.”

Her gaze dropped to it, then lifted back to him. “Oh.” She stepped forward just enough to take it from his hands. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, I didn’t realize I still had it,” he added, because it felt like something that should be said.

“It’s okay, I didn’t need it today. Or any day, I just keep it just in case.”

He nodded once. “That’s good.”

“Oh! It’s you!” a voice cut in suddenly, bright and unmistakably familiar.

Juhoon turned slightly. His grandmother was already making her way across the street, her steps quicker than usual, one hand lifting in an excited wave.

He hadn’t even noticed her leave the house.

“My bus girl!” she said, her face lighting up the moment she reached the gate. There was no hesitation in her steps, no restraint in the way she approached and moved him out of the way. The girl blinked, clearly caught off guard for a second until recognition settled in.

“Grandma—” Juhoon started, but it was already too late.

“My dear!” his grandmother continued warmly, reaching out to gently take the girl’s hands without thinking twice. “It’s really you.”

“Hello, Miss. Kang,” Juhoon didn’t miss her smile and how she got comfortable with the touch of the elderly. That’s one pretty smile. “Are you doing well?”

“Well?” his grandmother repeated with a small laugh. “I’ve been waiting to see you again! You disappeared so quickly that day.”

“I didn’t disappear, I just had to get off,” she admitted, glancing down briefly. “I’m sorry.”

“For helping me and keeping me company for several months?” his grandmother shook her head. “You even carried my basket. I should be the one apologizing for being such a burden.”

“You will never be a burden to me, Miss. Kang. I love talking to you.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” his grandmother continued. “You stayed with me the whole way.”

“It was nothing,” the girl replied.

“That’s what you say,” his grandmother smiled, squeezing her hands lightly. “But not many people would do the same.”

“…You know each other?” he asked.

His grandmother turned to him, almost amused. “Of course we do, are you not listening? She’s been keeping me company on the bus these past few weeks. Sometimes she's quiet, but I love that! Quiet people notice more.”

“You never said anything,” He heard a small chuckle from her, and she glanced briefly toward Juhoon before looking back at his grandmother.

“I didn’t know you lived here,” she said.

“Across the street,” his grandmother replied easily, gesturing behind her. “This is the grandson I spoke to you about.”

Only then did the connection settle fully. “Oh, I didn’t know she was your grandmother,” the girl murmured.

Juhoon straightened slightly, suddenly aware of his own presence again. “Well, I was just returning her notebook.”

“Yes, yes,” his grandmother nodded quickly, but her attention stayed on the girl. “You should come by sometime. I make good tea—better than the one on the bus, I promise.”

A small smile appeared, her fingers gently tugging a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’d love that. I can go with some cookies. I remember you like the lemon ones.”

“Oh, sweetheart, that would be lovely.” Then the girl stepped back slightly, adjusting the notebook in her hands as she bowed. “I should go. My father is waiting.”

“Of course,” his grandmother said, though there was a clear reluctance in her tone. “Don’t disappear again, hm?”

“I won’t. Have a good night, Miss. Kang. See you at school, Juhoon,” she replied softly.

“Night.” Her gaze flickered once more unintentionally toward Juhoon before she turned and stepped inside; the door closed gently behind her.

Juhoon exhaled lightly. “That was unnecessary,”

His grandmother glanced at him. “Was it?”

“You didn’t have to come over like that.”

“She would’ve left otherwise,” she replied simply.

“That’s fine,” he said. “I already returned it.”

“Walk with me,” she said. Since it wasn’t a question, he didn’t argue.

They moved down the street together, her pace naturally slower, his adjusting without effort. He knew the night had settled fully now when there weren’t any children on sight, windows started to dim, and the world was folding into itself after a long day.

He didn’t mind it. Walking beside her had always felt nice, knowing that at the end of it, she would let him vent without being judged by his father.

“You said she was quiet,” his grandmother began.

“She is,” he replied. “And serious. You just said that, as well.”

“Serious,” she repeated, a faint trace of amusement in her voice. “That’s what you see?”

“She doesn’t talk much. She keeps to herself. Focused, I guess.”

“Mm.”

“That’s all.” His grandmother smiled faintly, but there was something in it that made him look away first.

“She helped me on the bus,” she said again.

“I know.”

“She carried the basket without being asked.”

“You told me.”

“And she stayed with me until my stop.”

Juhoon nodded. “You said that too.”

“And she missed hers.”

That made him glance at her properly this time. “…Why?”

“She didn’t say it; she just stayed next to me and told jokes just to make me feel better when I told her I lost my friend.”

“That’s not practical.”

“No?”

“If she had somewhere to be, she should’ve gone,” he said. “Helping doesn’t mean you have to—”

“—lose something?” she finished gently, already knowing his answers.

They walked a few more steps before his grandmother slowed, eventually making her way toward a small bench by the side of the road. She sat down with care, her hands folding neatly in her lap as her gaze drifted upward, toward the faint scatter of stars.

Juhoon hesitated for a second before sitting beside her.

“You look at people the way you look at your studies.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you decide quickly what matters,” she continued. “What’s useful and can be understood.”

“That’s not wrong,” he said.

“No, it isn’t,” she agreed. “But people aren’t questions with one correct answer.”

Juhoon’s brows pulled together faintly.

“You see that she’s quiet. Serious and focused.” She glanced at him briefly. “That’s what she shows you. But what someone shows isn’t all they are.”

He let out a small breath through his nose. “I’m not trying to figure her out.”

“That’s exactly why you don’t see it.” 

“See what?”

“Courage despite the pain.”

“It’s just kindness.”

“Is it?” she asked. Juhoon didn’t answer right away, not truly having a correct answer this time. “She didn’t know me, it would’ve been easier not to help and pretend she didn’t notice.”

He looked down at his hands, resting loosely against his knees.

“That doesn’t make it courage,” he said after a moment. “It’s just… a choice.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “And not everyone makes it. She didn’t gain anything from it. No one praised her or saw it.” A small pause. “She just did it because of her pure heart.”

Juhoon’s gaze drifted somewhere ahead, unfocused.

“You think courage has to be loud so that people recognize it,” she said gently. 

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to, I know you, you punk.” He exhaled quietly despite the nickname. “It’s small, most of the time, and easy to miss if you’re only looking at what’s on the surface.”

Her warm hand engulfed his; her fingers tightened slightly. “I think you’re reading too much into it,” he said after a while.

“Maybe,” she agreed easily. Juhoon leaned back slightly, his gaze lifting toward the sky for a brief moment before dropping again. “Enough about that, what’s on your mind?”

“The math test results come out tomorrow,” Juhoon said, shifting the topic immediately. “I think I lost points on the last question. The method was right, but the explanation wasn’t precise enough.”

His grandmother listened. “If I had written it differently, it would’ve been clearer,” he added. “It’s not a big mistake, but it still matters.”

“A mistake is a mistake, it doesn’t define you unless it hurts someone,” she said.

“That’s why I need to fix it next time, because it will most likely pain my father.” And just like that, everything else faded. They walked home with his voice filling the space now, focused entirely on numbers, on corrections, on what could be improved.

When they reached the house, he stepped inside first.

“Don’t stay up too late,” his grandmother said, her finger pointing at him.

“I won’t.” The woman kissed his forehead before he went straight to his room. The desk, the chair, and the notebook were waiting exactly where they should be.

He sat down and opened the notebook to the same page, the paper settling flat beneath his hand with the problem staring up at him, exactly as he had left it: unfinished and slightly off. He let his pen hover just above the page, the tip barely grazing the surface as if it could decide for him where to begin. It only lasted a second before he started.

The first line came easily, followed by the next, and then the next after that. Each step fell into place with certainty, the method unfolding the way it should have earlier. The smile spreading across his face showed how proud he was that there was no hesitation this time, completely familiar.

It may sound odd for others, but he really enjoyed how numbers didn’t leave space for misinterpretation, hide behind silence, or shift depending on where you looked. If something was wrong, it could be corrected. If something was unclear, it could be rewritten. There was always a way forward and a clearer answer waiting if you just focused long enough to find it.

His attention stayed where it belonged, following the final steps as they coalesced into something complete; the correct answer sat before him. He leaned back slightly, exhaling under his breath, sensing how the faint tension in his shoulders eased without him realizing it.

The notebook was closed with him looking, the soft thud of the cover sealing everything neatly inside. Just like that, the mistake was fixed. 

Across the street, he didn’t know a certain someone was slowly dozing off, still thinking about how a dinner conversation carried more weight than it should, and made her question everything. The distance between them wasn’t far, but why had it never felt wider?

It didn’t change the next day or the one after that; it was already settling quietly and deeper, slipping beneath the surface where it couldn’t be easily named or pushed aside. Juhoon didn’t think about it directly, he couldn’t put it in with words, but it showed in the way his routines lost their characteristic ease, first it was his pen hovering a little longer before writing, then his eyes lingering on questions he would normally move past without hesitation, to end with the certainty he had always relied on began to feel just slightly out of reach.

Seeing himself in second place in his class didn’t cause him any surprise. It wasn’t familiar, sure—there was always a first time for everything, and he was very happy for Minseok—but what unsettled him wasn’t the number itself but how quickly it stopped feeling like something temporary. Three points weren’t enough to define anything, and that bittersweet feeling stayed with him longer than it should have. And despite everything looking the same at home, he could already feel the tension the second his dad glared at him.

The table was already set when he came down from his room, dishes neatly placed with steam rising softly above them from the soup, curling into the air. His mother moved between the kitchen and the table, his grandmother sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap after arranging the utensils, and Soobin helped with what was missing. And his father sat at the head of the table, newspaper closed next to him and conserving his posture straight, not even giving up his stare after he sat down.

He reached for his chopsticks. “The rankings came out today.”

Juhoon’s hand paused slightly before continuing. “Yes.”

“And?”

“I placed second overall.”

“Second?”

“Yes.”

“Who placed first?”

“Hwang Min Seok.”

“And the difference?”

“…Three points.” Juhoon focused on picking up his food, if only to fill the silence with sound.

“So you lost points.”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“The last question.”

“You didn’t know it?”

“I did.”

“Then why did you lose points?”

Juhoon’s fingers tightened slightly around his chopsticks. “My explanation wasn’t clear enough.”

The sound of his father setting the chopsticks down echoed. “That’s carelessness.”

“I reviewed it. I just—”

“You just what?” The interruption was sharp this time, making him stop before saying something else.

“I thought it was enough.”

“Enough?” his father repeated, the word coming out almost incredulous. “You’re satisfied with ‘enough’ now?”

“No.”

“Then don’t say it like you are.”

“I’m not,” Juhoon replied, the edge slipping in before he could stop it. “I corrected it. I know what I did wrong.”

“That’s not the point.” His father’s voice hardened, cutting through the room more clearly than anything loud could have. “You shouldn’t have made the mistake at all.”

Juhoon’s jaw tightened. “I can fix it.”

“I’m not asking if you can fix it, I’m asking why you made it.”

“I told you—”

“You’re not listening.” The words landed fast.

“I am,” Juhoon insisted, the restraint in his voice thinning.

“Then act like it.”

“Jae Won. Juhoon. Let’s eat first,” his mother said gently, carefully placing another dish on the table as if the motion itself could settle things. “The food is getting cold.”

No one was in the mood to reach for it, not when the “head” of the family was still gazing at his son. “You knew the answer and still lost points. That means you weren’t thinking properly.”

“I was thinking,” Juhoon said, more firmly now. “I just didn’t explain it the way the teacher wanted.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s not.” The words slipped out before he could stop them. Soobin straightened slightly in his seat.

“Juhoon,” his mother said quietly, a warning in her tone already too late. He took in how his father’s expression shifted, and his hand started to grip the newspaper beside him.

“Say that again.”

Juhoon swallowed, but didn’t look away this time. “I understood the problem,” he said, slower now, more controlled. “That should count for something.”

“It doesn’t,” his father replied immediately. “Not if you can’t present it correctly.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t know it.”

“It means you failed to show it.”

Failed.

Something in Juhoon’s chest tightened at how that word stung deeply. “I didn’t fail.”

“You came second, you lost points on something you claim to understand. What would you call that?”

“Enough! The sound of his grandmother's palms slamming on the table was what finally broke the standoff. “He did well.”

His father didn’t look at her. “He could have done better.”

“He always does his best.”

“And his best should be first,” his father replied.

“Dad, it’s just three points. He’ll beat Minseok next time.”

“That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?” Soobin asked, the casual tone not quite hiding the challenge nor the anger he was starting to feel.

“The issue is that he’s becoming comfortable making mistakes.”

“I’m not comfortable, I said I’d fix it!”

“Fixing it after the fact doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Why doesn’t it?” Juhoon pressed, his voice rising and slightly breaking. “If I know what I did wrong and improve—”

“You shouldn’t be making mistakes like that to begin with.”

“I’m not perfect.”

His mother grabbed his thigh below the table immediately after his scream, barely feeling it. “That’s enough.”

His father’s gaze didn’t waver. “No. Say that again.”

“I’m not perfect.”

“And you think that excuses you?”

“I’m not making excuses,” he snapped, the control finally slipping. “I’m explaining.”

“You’re defending failure.”

“I didn’t fail!”

Soobin let out a breath under his breath. “Alright—okay—everyone just—”

“Stay out of it,” his father cut in. Soobin fell quiet, jaw tightening.

“You’re arguing with me over three points,” his unsteady voice was bothering him, maybe even more than the score itself. “Three points. I still did well.”

“Well, it isn’t enough.”

“It should be.”

“On my roof, it isn’t,” he finally slammed the newspaper on his shoulder.

“Kim Jae Won! That’s enough.”

“You think the world will reward you for ‘well’?” his father went on, completely ignoring his mother's pleas. “You think effort and intention matter when results don’t match?”

“I said I’d do better.”

“You should already be better.”

There it was again, that same sentence carrying the same weight his brother and he had heard six years ago. Instead of making him stronger, he could feel how it threw everything off balance.

“I am trying,” he said, and this time it wasn’t controlled.

“Trying is meaningless if this is the result.”

Juhoon’s grip tightened against the table. “Then what do you want from me?”

His mother’s hand pressed more firmly against his thigh, the unplanned question even taking him off guard. “Juhoon—”

“What do you want?” he repeated. “Because I study. I correct my mistakes. I—”

“I want you to stop falling short,” 

“I’m not falling short.”

“You are.”

His grandmother shifted forward slightly. “That’s enough, you’re pushing him too hard.”

“He needs to be pushed. Those kids you hang out with are a bad influence.”

“He’s already pushing himself because of you.”

“And it’s not enough.”

Juhoon didn’t respond this time. His hand had curled into itself at his side, fingers tightening until they trembled, impossible to still. He kept his head lowered as soon as he felt his vision blur, trying to blink away the burn behind his eyes that only sharpened. His chest felt too tight, which left no room to inhale properly or speak.

“Finish eating. And then study.”

Juhoon didn’t remember finishing dinner; everything was a blur. The next few days passed without anything visibly changing, but that feeling didn’t go away from every single sentence that came from his father’s mouth. At school, he showed more than he realized.

He missed answering a question he knew, the teacher's encouragement to make him participate, and even playing soccer with his friends. They couldn't help but notice that they had a hunch even before they knew what had happened, thanks to the strong bond the five boys shared. He had to intervene and brush it off as something temporary, but it wasn’t. It was obvious.

By the last class of the day, Juhoon stared at his notebook without really seeing it, the lines of writing blurring just slightly as his thoughts drifted somewhere else, as well as his classmates once they heard the bell.

“Juhoon?” A hand on his shoulder reached him, looking up. You stood beside his desk at a decent distance, your quiet presence existing with it.

“Oh,” he said softly, his voice slower than usual. “You’re still here.”

“So are you. The bell rang, and your friends didn’t want to bother you.”

He glanced around briefly. “…Right.”

You shifted slightly, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag before loosening again. “I was going to leave, but…” Your voice trailed off, and for a moment, it seemed like you might take it back.

“But?” he asked, more out of habit than anything else.

He could see that you were physically torn between saying something and not saying anything, until he finally noticed in your eyes that matched what you were about to say. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said automatically.

“You don’t look like it.” His expression couldn’t be hidden anymore, opting for letting out a quiet breath.

“It’s nothing,” he added, softer this time.

“…It’s nothing,” you said gently. For a moment, it seemed like that would be the end of it—that he would let the silence close back in, let you take the hint and leave him, he didn’t think you would step a little closer, reinforcing your presence.

“You don’t have to tell me, I just… thought I’d ask.”

The gentle tone soothed something within him. The lack of pressure and how you were already giving him a way out made the tension on his shoulder ease. He stared at the page a second longer, the tips of his fingers following the route of a random line he drew mid-class.

“I came second.”

You blinked. “Second?”

“Overall.”

“That’s really good. Congrats!”

He shook his head, almost immediately. “No. It’s not.”

“ Oh... Why not?”

His fingers curled slightly against the paper. “…I lost by three points.”

“That’s still—”

“I shouldn’t have.” His cheeks warmed in embarrassment as his words cut through the space between you. He exhaled slowly to try to calm himself. “I knew the answer, I just didn’t write it properly.”

You didn’t interrupt. “I checked it, more than once, and I thought it was clear enough… It wasn’t.”

A small piece of chocolate appeared before his eyes; he glanced at the girl holding it, and she simply gave him a gentle smile, inviting him to take it. He couldn't refuse.

“…My father said it was carelessness,” he went on, the words coming more steadily now while playing with the candy. “That I shouldn’t be making mistakes and how they shouldn’t happen at all. He even said trying doesn’t matter, not if the result isn’t right.”

The faintest crease formed between his brows, and easing them once the chocolate ended up in his mouth. “And I thought I did it right. I checked it, I really did.”

That particular sentence made your chest pull at how his words wavered. You stepped just a little closer. “That doesn’t make it nothing. Three points don’t erase that.”

He let out a small, breathless sound—almost a laugh. “It does to him.”

“…And to you?” His gaze stayed fixed on the notebook, but he wasn’t seeing it anymore. The question went directly to his heart. Has he ever thought about himself?

“…I don’t know, I just—” he exhales unevenly. “I keep thinking about it.”

“The question?”

“The way I wrote it,” he corrected. “What I should’ve changed. If I had just rewritten the last line—”

His fingers tightened again. “I’ve gone over it so many times,” he said, almost under his breath. “I can’t stop.”

“You care a lot,” the few seconds of silence when you said that gently.

“I have to.”

“Or you want to?” That made him pause; his thoughts seemed to catch on something that didn’t already have an answer ever since he joined your conversation.

“I don’t know…” 

“Well, it’s just three points,” you said, your voice light but steady. “But you’re acting like you lost everything.”

He let out a slow breath, shoulders lowering just slightly. “It feels like it.”

When he finally looked up, his expression had shifted—his usual, more put-together.

“…Sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong… If it’s any consolation, you have a bright future ahead of you, even if you came in second. To me, you’re more than just a place in a ranking.” You interrupted gently.

“Thank you,” he said instead, a small smile tugging at his lips. You nodded, offering a small, reassuring smile that brought a slight warmth to his heart.

“Anytime.” Juhoon glanced back down at his notebook, straightening slightly.

“I should go,” he said, his tone more composed now. Familiar again.

You stepped back, giving him space as he gathered his things.

“Yeah, me too.” He slung his bag over his shoulder, walking away with a more relaxed pace, pausing just briefly before turning.

“Wanna grab a cup of tteokbokki before going to our homes?” The offer made you open your eyes in surprise, which quickly turned into a sincere smile that spread to your face.

“I’ll love that, Juhoon.”

September 12th, 1963 || age: 17

Time had a quiet way of slipping past you before you could properly hold onto it. Days folded into weeks, and weeks marked not by dates, but by small changes you only noticed when you stopped to think about them.

Wonhee and Keonho were no longer something whispered about between classes; they were real now, obvious in the way they hold hands while walking to class, in how her voice softened when she said his name. Yunah had started seeing someone, too, though she pretended it wasn’t anything serious, even as she spent longer fixing her hair in the mornings.

And you were still exactly where you had been for three years. Still noticing him, always carrying something that hadn’t quite settled into anything certain. At this point, you’d think your feelings for him were all too obvious—you couldn’t hide how your face flushed when he smiled at you as he walked through the kitchen of his house while you were having a little chat with his grandmother, or the times he helped you with your groceries when he saw you arrive with his mom after a trip to the market

The only difference now was how it felt.

At first, it had been quiet in the easiest way, like something that didn’t need to be explained to be understood. It settled beside you without effort, familiar and unassuming, never asking to be questioned. You had let it exist like that, untouched, because it felt safer not to look too closely.

But somewhere in between ordinary moments, it changed.

Not all at once—at least not in a way you could name. It slipped out of place gradually, as if a rhythm started to fall out of time until the shift was too obvious to ignore. What had once felt steady began to waver, rising and falling without warning, leaving you grasping for a feeling that no longer held still.

There were small things. How his gaze would catch on you, lingering for a few seconds, that, in your heart, almost meant something. How the conversations brushed against depth, only to cut short before they could reach it. Each moment felt like the edge of a story that never quite began.

And that was the hardest part—the almost.

Because sometimes, it felt real. To think he saw you in a way no one else did and believed there was something quietly unfolding between you in an unspoken way. But just as quickly, it would disappear, leaving you questioning whether it had ever been there at all.

You were left suspended between those two versions of him—one who noticed, and one who didn’t—and neither stayed long enough to be certain. And in the space between them, doubt grew louder than anything else, until even your own memories felt unreliable, as if they belonged more to hope than to truth.

“See you on Monday!” Yunah waved her hand brightly. Wonhee was no longer with the two of you since she had an after-school date with Keonho. “I’ll tell you two how the date went.”

“Hope you kiss that person this time,” you said loud enough for her to hear and blush. “Oh, God. The rain had started earlier than expected.” 

It began with a thin drizzle that was barely noticeable unless you paid attention to how it darkened the ground beneath your shoes.

“I’m glad my mom told me to bring an umbrella,” the tallest opened the object, hugging you tenderly before gently walking away.

Your feet quickly carried you along the usual route, though a small detour was demanded by your stomach’s quiet insistence, pausing for a snack before continuing.

At the bus stop, you slipped beneath the shelter just as the rain began to fall harder, shifting your weight as droplets gathered along the roof’s edge and fell in soft, uneven intervals. The scent of petrichor rose to meet you, planting a smile on your face.

There weren’t many people left; most had already gone, disappearing into the weather with hurried steps and lowered heads. Just a few remained scattered along the road. The sound of footsteps approached hurriedly, alerting you enough to turn to where the sound was coming from. And there he was.

Juhoon slowed slightly when he reached the shelter, brushing a hand lightly through his damp hair as he stepped under the small overhang. A few droplets clung stubbornly to the ends, catching the dim light before slipping away. Neither of you spoke, just a small bow from both sides.

“You’re still here.”

“My bus hasn’t come yet,” you replied softly, the usual tone that came out unconsciously when he was around.

He nodded once. “I see.”

The rain filled the silence between you. He stood with his usual posture, his attention drifting somewhere ahead rather than toward you, just like you were doing.

A stronger gust of wind pushed the rain further in, forcing you to step back slightly at the same time he reached into his bag. The hairs on your skin stood on end, and your hands did their best to warm them, too focused on that to notice the umbrella that stretched wide above him.

“You can stand here,” the offer came with him shifting it slightly in your direction, inviting you to step closer.

The space between you disappeared almost instantly; the umbrella wasn’t large enough to keep a comfortable distance, not if both of you wanted to stay dry. Your shoulder brushed lightly against his, and this was probably the closest you two were in three years.

“Thank you,” 

He nodded. “It’s fine.”

The rain continued to fall around you, louder now against the fabric above that wrapped around the moment. It was almost impossible not to feel the warmth of him beside you, close enough to notice, but not close enough to reach. Sadly.

Your fingers tightened slightly around the strap of your bag.

Say something.

The thought came to your head like a whisper. You could.

It wouldn’t be that hard. Just a few words—simple, honest. Enough to shift whatever this was into one that didn’t leave you guessing every time you looked at him.

“Juhoon, I—”

The words stopped, and to your surprise, it wasn’t because you couldn’t say them; you actually could. It was how his gaze focused on the road ahead where the bus would eventually appear. Even when he looked at you, there was no sign that he was waiting for anything more than the bus to arrive, clearly having no space opened for you.

The realization came quietly and landed harder than you expected on the back of your head, your words slipping away just as quickly as they had formed. “…Do you think it’ll be late?” you asked instead.

He glanced at the road briefly. “Maybe. The rain usually slows it down.”

“Oh.”

“That happens sometimes,” You nodded anyway, gaze dropping slightly to your partially dirty shoes. In a way, you couldn’t wrap your head around how the quiet that once felt shared even without words, it stretched between you unevenly, pressing in on your chest in a way that made it harder to breathe.

You were so, so close, and yet it felt like you were the only one standing there whose thoughts were eating her alive. The rain softened slightly, though the sky remained unchanged as the grey clouds didn’t seem ready to clear anytime soon.

All these years, you lived saying, “Maybe it was nothing,” although right now, where you didn’t feel an ounce of willingness on his part to know you beyond the dinners both of your families shared, the small tea parties with Miss. Kang, it felt like you should truly stop using that phrase. 

Surprisingly, your father had been right: A face can catch your attention, but a person keeps it. And suddenly, you weren’t sure what was being kept.

The bus lights appeared in the distance, clearer as it approached. Juhoon adjusted his grip on the umbrella slightly, stepping forward just enough to guide both of you closer to the edge of the road. The movement was considerate in the smallest way, just not enough to feel like more.

The doors opened with a soft mechanical sound. Juhoon signaled you to step in first. “Thank you,” 

He gave a small nod. “Of course.”

And that was it. You climbed the steps, your fingers brushing lightly against the damp railing as you moved inside. There was an empty seat by the window—your usual one—and without thinking, you slid into it, your bag resting neatly on your lap. A second later, he took the seat beside you, close enough that your shoulders nearly touched when the bus shifted forward again.

The window beside you was streaked with rain, blurring the outside world into shifting shapes. You rested your gaze there, watching as droplets chased each other down the glass, merging and separating without ever really stopping. Beside you, Juhoon adjusted slightly, the faint rustle of fabric breaking the quiet. 

“Here.” his voice caught your attention, watching him holding out a small tangerine as a simple gesture.

Still, your chest tightened slightly. “…Thank you,” you said, accepting it carefully.

He nodded once, already pulling his hand back, already moving on as if the moment had ended the second it happened.

“It’s from home,” he added after a beat. “My grandmother bought them.”

You glanced down at it, the bright color sitting softly against your palm. “They look good.”

“They are.” A gentle smile spread across her face, making you smile as well. You peeled it slowly, the scent rising faintly into the air. Naturally, you separated one slice, then hesitated for a second before holding it out toward him.

“Do you want—?”

He shook his head lightly. “You can have it. Grandma bought plenty.” That was it. That briefly friendly tone appeared.

“Oh… okay.” The slice was sweet, slightly tart on your tongue, but your attention wasn’t really on the taste. It drifted beside you instead, catching on the quiet shift in Juhoon’s posture. He hadn’t said anything after that.

He just sat there with his shoulder low; what you did notice was how his eyes blinked slowly, an action you often did when you were trying to keep up with something your body had already decided.

When they finally closed, it just happened; his head landed on your shoulder. You paused mid-eating at the warmth of him resting there, his hair brushed lightly against your neck as he slept without realizing it.

Your fingers tightened gently around the remaining slices in your hand, the peel crinkling faintly as the bus rolled forward. After what her grandmother had told you, you didn't move.

The concern rants about how she saw him stay up long after everyone else had gone to sleep, books spread out in the dim light. How it wasn’t just about school, not really, but about becoming someone his father could be proud of. The kind of effort that didn’t leave room for softness, or hesitation, or anything that might get in the way, like living a normal teenage life.

His behaviour made sense now to you, how carefully he carried himself and kept everything contained, neat and controlled, until he was with his friends, where he let himself loose to take a breath.

Your gaze drifted back to him, to the faint rise and fall of his shoulders, to the unguarded softness resting across his face while he slept. It was different like this. Lighter, almost. Whatever he carried during the day had been set down, if only for a moment.

You let yourself take it in, knowing it wasn’t something you were meant to see. Knowing that once he woke up, it would slip away, replaced by that familiar distance he wore so easily. And somehow, that didn’t make this moment feel any less real.

If anything, it made it more fragile, which was held only in the space between who he was for the world and who he allowed himself to be when no one was looking. And that was enough.

DUAL POV

Juhoon didn’t mean to come this way.

If anyone had asked, he would’ve said he was just walking—clearing his head after too many hours bent over his desk, loosening the quiet tension that felt too heavy on his shoulders whenever he stayed in one place for too long and had to listen to his father's constant speech about perfection. Lately, the air of his house had made him feel smaller than usual, and he didn’t care to name, especially when his father was home. So he walked.

It wasn’t unusual for him to take the longer route, to let his feet decide instead of his thoughts. Still, he knew this path wasn’t one he usually chose. It pulled him further out than expected, already past the familiar houses with their dim porch lights and the small shops already shuttered for the evening. At some point, he realized he didn’t quite know where he was.

That thought should have bothered him, but it didn’t; he actually felt a kind of relief.

He kept going, the rhythm of his steps slowing as the noise of the city thinned behind him. The wind came with a soft rustle ahead, and when he stepped onto a stretch of fallen leaves, the sound followed. Then the path opened. A lone ginkgo tree stood at the edge of a small clearing, its branches stretching wide against a pale, fading sky. Its leaves had already begun to fall, scattering across the ground in uneven patches of gold. 

Juhoon slowed once he realized there was someone there. At first, it was only a shape—a figure near the base of the tree, partially hidden by the slight dip in the ground. But as he stepped closer, the outline became so familiar that it made him stop without realizing it.

It was you, looking smaller here.

Not physically, but you fit into the space around you. The open clearing stretched wide, and there you were, kneeling beneath the tree as if you belonged to it more than the world beyond it. The wind moved gently through your loose hair, lifting a few strands before letting them fall again. Your hands were busy with something in front of you. He hadn’t expected you here, of all places.

His mind made him consider turning back; it would’ve been easy since you didn’t even realize he was there, yet destiny didn’t want it that way, forcing him to step forward. This time, the sound of leaves beneath his shoes gave him away, and when he saw your face, he couldn’t believe how his heart stopped.

There was no shock on your face, only a small pause; maybe his presence had arrived a second too early, but he didn’t feel entirely unwelcome. He was never good at reading emotions; that was his grandma's talent. He was grateful to pinpoint a sadness that didn’t ask to be seen resting beneath your face.

It sat gently in your expression, in the softness of your eyes, in the stillness of your lips. And somehow, it showed you in a light he hadn’t noticed before, or didn’t want to. A kind of beauty that didn’t try to be anything at all, and maybe that was why it moved him enough to make his ear warm up.

“Juhoon.”

“I didn’t know you came here.”

“I do,” you said simply. His gaze drifted, almost without permission, settling on the ground in front of you while his body didn’t know what to do. “Do you want to sit with me?”

Then he noticed it—a small blanket spread beneath you with enough space left beside you for him to sit, and he doubted only for a second before sitting down. Once he was next to you, two small markers that rested beneath the tree caught his eye. Probably, you sensed his curiosity since he couldn’t look away from them. “My family is here,” you added. He searched for the pattern in those markers—two crosses side by side—and could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Are you alright?”

“I am now. Yes.” The sentence came easily. You had already turned back by then, your attention returning to what you had been doing, hand brushing gently over the ground, moving a few fallen leaves aside with quiet care. He didn’t interrupt; he wasn’t supposed to disrupt.

After a moment, you reached into your bag, recognizing the binyeo in a second once you pulled it out. You had worn it for as long as he could remember—three years, maybe more, the fading light softly making it shine as usual, even brighter as you held it between your fingers.

Juhoon’s eyes followed the movement without thinking.

“This was from her,” you said quietly. “My mother.”

Carefully, you leaned forward and adjusted it where it rested, your fingers steady for a person who has been doing it over and over until it became easy, like a small ritual. “She liked things to be neat, said it made things feel in place.”

Juhoon stayed still, feeling how you were trying your very best to swallow that knot in your throat. “My brother used to tease her for it, he said she cared more about how things looked than how they felt, but he always let her fix his collar before he left. He was a student,” you said after a moment.

Your hand stilled for just a second.

“He thought he understood everything.” The corner of your lips curved, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “They died during the April Revolution.”

You didn’t look at him when you said it; it was better if it stayed lowered, fixed somewhere between the ground and the small space you had carefully cleared, so he couldn’t see the small tears forming in your eyes.

“He went out that day,” you continued quietly. “Said he was just going to see what was happening… my mother followed him because she knew deep down he lied.”

Juhoon felt his chest heavier once again as he kept listening. “She found him, before anything happened.” Your fingers brushed over the edge of the marker, lingering there. “And when it did… she didn’t let go. They were both brought back here.”

Juhoon swallowed lightly, his hands resting against his knees, unmoving. He searched for something—anything—that felt appropriate, and that could sit beside what you had just given him.

But nothing came; this was the first time he couldn’t ask a question.

“I see.” The words sounded small, even to him. You nodded, like that was enough, and it was in a way, knowing the lack of comfort he would give.

Neither of you spoke; he watched you adjust the binyeo again, though it didn’t need fixing, your fingers smoothing over it before pulling back. “They used to argue a lot, about small things. My brother always said he’d leave first,” you continued. “That he wouldn’t stay in a place that didn’t listen or feel understood. But he didn’t. because we all knew he was playing around.”

Your lips pressed together slightly, deciding to look at him as one tear finally dropped from the corner of your eye, wetting your cheek. “He stayed.”

Juhoon nodded once, though he wasn’t sure what he was agreeing to. Deep in his mind, he wanted to say something, but asking what it had been after or how long you had been coming here seemed inappropriate. He couldn’t even bring himself to ask how you had carried it all this time and still smile to your friends so prettily and act like everything was fine with her grandma as he watched you from a distance.

The questions hovered somewhere at the edge of his thoughts, and they didn’t even reach his voice. Instead, he sat there, observing something he didn’t know how to step into.  After a while, he shifted slightly on the spot.

“I should go,” It came out gently. You didn’t look surprised.

“Okay.” Contrary to his tone, yours was dry.

“Take care,” he said instead.

You nodded. “You too.”

He stood, brushing a few leaves from his clothes before stepping back onto the path. The sound of them shifting under his shoes followed him as he walked away, quieter with each step. 

He didn’t look back, but just like anything related to you, the image stayed with him. The tree, the scattered gold leaves. Especially, you, sitting there with careful hands and a voice that carried more than it showed. The words from his grandma knocked some sense when he was far enough from you, realizing how little he had actually seen the whole you.

On the other side, you were never simply quiet—not in the way people found easy to understand. There was a depth to your life that resisted being seen, that was sadly shaped by loss and held together with quiet discipline to not show it to the only family you had. You had learned how to carry it without letting it show, folding it into softer expressions, small smiles that asked for nothing in return.

It was easier that way, for others to accept, and for you to move through the world without being asked questions you didn’t have the strength to answer.

He had seen that version of you—the gentler outline, the one that didn’t trouble anyone. Perhaps because it was all you allowed. Or perhaps because anything more would have required him to linger in a place he didn’t know how to stand in.

But there was nothing simple about you. You had endured the kind of loss that reshapes everything, leaving no visible fracture and yet altering the weight of every day that followed. You had learned how to live beside it, how to return to it, how to honor it without letting it consume what remained of you. And beneath all of that careful composure, there had been the faintest hope that someone might one day recognize it—not as something to mend, but as something to remain beside.

Under the ginkgo tree, you did not move.

The wind slipped into the space he had left, gentler than his presence had been, brushing against your face before passing through the branches above.

This place had always belonged to you—to you and to them. Tucked away from the rest of the world, it held everything you could not carry anywhere else. Without meaning to, he had found it. He had seen a piece of what you kept here, had listened as you gave voice to a version of you that you rarely allowed to surface.

There was kindness in him, you knew it. But kindness did not always know how to remain when things grew heavier or when silence stretched and asked for more than quiet company.

Your gaze shifted to the space beside you, feeling more tears rolling down your cheek.

Once, you might have imagined it differently—might have believed that if he opened enough like before and how his grandma wished, something in you would turn toward him without resistance, that the distance between you could soften so it can become steadier in hopes of being something more.

So when the space remained unchanged, you let it. 

JUHOON's POV

Considering how much the country had suffered in recent years, including outside his home, he couldn't avoid conversations that emphasized responsibility.

They came from everywhere now.

From the crackling radio his father listened to every evening, to teachers who lingered a little too long on civics lessons once their words slipped from memorization to more pointed ones, to older students who spoke in lowered voices near the gates, glancing over their shoulders like the air itself might carry their thoughts elsewhere.

Responsibility.

It used to feel like a distant word that was only meant for adults, for men who had already decided what kind of lives they would lead. Not for someone still in uniform, still worrying about test scores and neat handwriting.

But lately, he noticed it by how his father folded the newspaper more sharply than before, in the pauses between sentences at dinner. In the way his brother spoke about the future, one that wasn’t abstract and unavoidable.

And, sadly, he started to see that in himself.

Juhoon adjusted his grip on his pen, the tip hovering just above his notebook as the classroom buzzed faintly around him, a habit he had acquired. The teacher’s voice could be perfectly heard from the front, explaining something about economic recovery, but his attention was snagged on a single phrase.

“…the responsibility of the younger generation…”

He saw how a few students straightened their backs at that, while others looked down. His pen touched the paper again, writing without hesitation: Responsibility meant direction. Hence, direction meant decisions. And decisions meant there was less room for anything else.

“Hey.”

The whisper came from his left. Juhoon didn’t look up immediately.

“Hey,” the voice repeated, insistently.

He finally turned slightly. Keonho leaned back in his chair just enough to avoid the teacher’s direct line of sight, eyebrows raised.

“You’ve been writing the same line for the past minute.” Juhoon glanced down. He didn’t even realize that

“I’m listening,”

“Sure thing,” Keonho corrected, unimpressed. “Such an attentive student.”

From behind them, a soft snort slipped out.

“Leave him alone,” James murmured. “If he starts talking, we’ll all get in trouble.”

Juhoon didn’t turn fully this time, but he could picture the expression anyway—the relaxed posture, the half-smile that never quite looked forced. James was like that.

Where Keonho filled silence with noise, James would either let it sit or join. Where Juhoon measured his words, James didn’t seem to measure them at all, yet somehow never said the wrong thing. It made people gravitate toward him without trying.

“See?” Keonho whispered. “Even he thinks you’re too serious.”

“I didn’t say that,” James replied lightly.

“You didn’t have to.”

The teacher’s chalk hit the board a little harder than necessary. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

Keonho straightened immediately. James lowered his gaze, the picture of innocence. Juhoon didn’t move. After a moment, the teacher turned back to the board, the lesson continuing as if nothing had happened.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes returning to his notebook, the word alone in a line: Responsibility.

After school, the courtyard filled like it always did. And despite being used to that movement to shake off the weight of the day, it felt different.

“Are you coming or not?” Keonho tossed the ball lightly between his hands, watching him.

“For what?” Juhoon asked.

“The river. Just for a bit. Seonghyeon and Martin can’t make it because of practice.”

“I have work to finish.”

“You always have work to finish. Come live a little.”

“That’s because I don’t leave it unfinished.”

Keonho groaned. “You’re impossible.”

“Then go without me.”

“I would,” he said, then paused. “But it’s more fun when you’re there.”

Juhoon didn’t respond right away. From the side, James spoke again, softer this time. “Come for a little while,” he said. “You can still study after.” 

The kind offer made him hesitate. It would be easy to say no; it was easier than considering it. The way James said it made the refusal feel like an answer he couldn’t say. “Not long,” he said finally.

Keonho lit up immediately. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

“It shouldn’t have been,” James added under his breath. Juhoon ignored that.

The walk to the river wasn’t long. As usual, Keonho talked the most—about a teacher he disliked, about a rumor he swore was true, about a plan he had already abandoned halfway through explaining, and most importantly, his next date with his girlfriend.

James listened, occasionally adding something small that somehow made the story better or complemented his ideas. Juhoon walked beside them quietly.

“…and then she actually said—” Keonho stopped mid-sentence. “Wait.”

“What?” James asked.

Keonho nodded toward the path ahead. “Look.”

Juhoon followed his gaze without thinking. A group of girls walked ahead, their uniforms moving softly with each step, voices blending into the late afternoon air.

He recognized them by the uniforms, more than anything. Dark skirts moving softly, white sleeves catching the light as they walked. The whole group moved in a pattern he had seen from a distance more times than he could count.

Then, her.

It wasn’t planned; the recognition just happened in such a quiet and immediate way, adjusting into place before he had the chance to question it. But she wasn’t where he expected her to be—not slightly behind or tucked into the edges of the group the way he had unconsciously placed her in his mind.

She was in the middle of it, leaning in as one of her friends spoke, her head tipping back when she laughed, the sound too soft to reach him, and it was clear enough by how her shoulders loosened. One of the girls nudged her, and she nudged back without hesitation this time, something easy and unguarded in the motion.

Her hands weren’t held close to her chest either. One moment, she gestured lightly with them as she spoke; the next, she adjusted the books at her side, only to forget about them again as the conversation pulled her in.

There was a rhythm to her he hadn’t seen before, an uncontained lightness.

She turned her head quickly—too quick to be measured—and said something that made the others react all at once. Even from where he stood, he could see how their steps slowed, and their attention gathered around her instead of passing through.

It didn’t feel like she was trying, and that was the part that caught him.

There was no effort in it—no awareness of how she might be seen. Just the certainty of someone who had forgotten to hold herself back. He watched a second longer than he meant to; the version he had built of her, without realizing it, broken into pieces.

And for a brief moment, that unsettled something in him. In his chest.

“You’re staring,” Keonho sang with the sole purpose of teasing him.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not,” Juhoon repeated, sharper this time. James glanced between them, then back ahead.

“…She’s in our class, right? The one in the middle,” he asked casually.

Keonho nodded. “Yeah. That's Y/N, the quiet one.”

“Mm.” That was it; there wasn’t any exaggeration, just acknowledgment that made Juhoon more aware of it, not less. “She doesn’t look that quiet to me.”

He looked away first, only to find James staring at her as if he were in a daze with a small smile on his lips, a state from which Juhoon made sure to snap him out of with a gentle nudge.

It didn’t mean anything.

They reached the river shortly after, the sound of water softly cutting through the last remnants of conversation. Keonho dropped his bag first, already crouching near the edge to check the temperature. James followed more slowly, hands in his pockets, before he finally sat down on a flat stone. Juhoon stood a moment longer, his bag hanging in his hand, to find a clean enough space to put it.

“You’re doing it again,” Keonho said without looking up.

“Doing what?”

“Thinking like you’re about to solve the country’s problems.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

James let out a quiet breath that might have been a laugh.

Juhoon exhaled, finally setting his bag down. “…It’s just…” 

“What?”

“Things aren’t the same,” he said instead.

“That’s because we’re not fourteen anymore,” Keonho replied immediately. “Of course they’re not the same.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

Juhoon looked toward the water, the reflection of the fading sky shifting with each ripple. “Everyone keeps talking about what comes next, like it’s already decided.”

“…And?” he asked.

“And I don’t think it is.” Keonho leaned back on his hands, quietly thinking about what he could say. 

“So decide it yourself.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“There are expectations,” he said finally.

“From who?”

“You know who.”

Keonho clicked his tongue. “Yeah. Sadly.”

“You’re not wrong,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t have a choice.” James tilted his head slightly, gaze still on the water.

He frowned faintly. “It feels like I don’t.”

“Then maybe you’re only looking at the choices you think you’re allowed to make. Have you ever truly lived?”

The river moved the same way it always had, indifferent to everything else, comforting the silence that sentence created. Eventually, Keonho stood, brushing the dust from his hands.

“Alright,” he said. “If we stay any longer, he’ll start thinking again.”

“I never stopped,” Juhoon replied, smiling briefly. Keonho splashed a little water on him.

“Exactly my point.”

James stood too, stretching slightly with a groan. He removed his shoes before dipping his feet into the water.

“You should head back,” he said to Juhoon. “You’ll worry about it otherwise, and your dad will be pissed. Maybe on the weekend we can all hang out.”

He wasn’t wrong; it didn’t take long for him to pick up his bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Keonho said. “Try not to become a government official overnight.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“I know. That’s why it’s funny.” James just smiled, splashing more water on the youngest of the three.

On the walk back, the quiet returned. His thoughts didn’t scatter as they usually did—they narrowed on words. Responsibility, future, expectation—the words lined up too easily now, slotting into place as if they had always been waiting for him to notice them.

By the time he reached his street, the sky had darkened enough for the first lights to flicker on behind windows, another three words: Home. Routine. Structure. It should have eased him like usual. Instead, when he passed the low wall, he slowed.

Across the street, the gate stood half-open. A faint light spilled from inside, catching on movement. He didn’t mean to look, still, even though he could only see her out of the corner of his eye, he did it anyway.

She stood in the yard, her back turned this time, sleeves rolled just enough as she adjusted something near the entrance. It was either a box, maybe, or a stack of books. Her movements were casual and unhurried. He saw how she paused, her hands resting lightly against the edge as if she had forgotten what she was doing—or maybe she was just thinking. He couldn’t tell, and he shouldn’t have been watching long enough to wonder.

Juhoon shifted his grip on his bag, looking away when he sensed her gaze and kept walking. That was what made sense, and that was what he did—but not before his gaze flickered back once more, resting on her without reason, just taking a look at how the last rays of sunshine made her shine.

Then he turned fully, stepping through his own gate without hesitation this time.

Inside, everything felt the same. A difference was that his mother was next to his grandmother, drinking what he supposed was tea, the usual faint rustle of paper confirming his father's presence, and the familiar expectation fell back into place as if it had never left. His brother was nowhere to be found, his work consuming him until nightfall.

While seated at his desk with his books spread neatly in front of him, a couple of hours later, he found himself pausing more than usual. The material wasn’t difficult. He understood it completely, although his mind had different plans; his focus slipped only for a second at a time. It was either a movement outside, the sentence James had said, or the figure standing in fading light before.

Juhoon closed his eyes briefly and exhaled. This wasn’t like him. It couldn’t become a habit.

He picked up his pen again to force himself back into rhythm. The words came easier after that. Still, somewhere between one line and the next, his thoughts drifted again, not toward responsibility and the uncertain future, but to the simple realization that someone could exist so close, just across the street, and remain completely outside of his world. One look at his window showed that her bedroom window was fully open to let the night in.

She stood there, brushing her hair in absent strokes, the radio hummed “Ranch Lady in the Straw Hat” by Park Jae Ran, and she followed it without thinking, combining a small sway of her shoulders with a turn of her wrist, creating a rhythm that belonged to her. It wasn’t a performance meant for anyone, and maybe that was what held him there—the pure way she seemed to exist entirely for herself in that moment.

He hadn’t meant to notice her, simply doing a passing glance that was supposed to be dissolved as quickly as it came. However, a force prevented him from looking away as easily as he should have. He caught himself observing the details without understanding why: how the light reflected off her hair, the vacant look in her eyes, the slight movement of her lips, as if she were half-remembering the words. It was nothing, really. Less than nothing.

Nevertheless, it tugged some strings somewhere inside him, softly and without invitation.

When she slipped into a small, unthinking sway, losing the rhythm for a second before catching it again, the corner of his mouth lifted before he could stop it. The smile was brief, almost accidental, and soon he looked down, not long after, a little too quickly. Noticing her at all had already felt like more than it should have been.

Still, when his eyes returned to the page, it was too late. His focus slipped once and for all, catching on the same line without moving forward. There was a faint and unfamiliar feeling sitting somewhere in his chest—nothing strong enough to name, just distracting him from what was important. He ignored it, or tried to, though it made it hard to forget entirely.

At first, nothing seemed different. The mornings came as they always had, taking the same walk to school, past the same voices gathering at the gates, into the same rhythm of footsteps brushing against pavement. You slipped into your place in the day, greeting your friends with an easy familiarity, taking your seat, smoothing your hands over your notebook as you had done a hundred times before, and, of course, talking with them before the classes started.

Everything remained exactly as it had been, and yet, deep inside, you had gone quietly still. You didn’t look for him in that instinctive, unthinking way you used to, when your attention would drift without permission, and your eyes would search for him before you even knew you were hoping. Now your gaze stayed where you placed it, anchored to the small ordinary things that asked nothing of you. 

The unusual part was that you didn’t decide to stop; there was no moment of refusal, no conscious turning away. It was only later that you realized the pull was gone.

And in its absence, there was something unfamiliar that managed to balance the softness you hadn’t expected to come with it. It was so easy that it felt almost undeserved, as though love at seventeen should have left something heavier behind that tarry and ached to demand to be noticed. But it didn’t. It slipped away from you gently, and you let it go without ever once turning your head.

“Are you feeling alright?” Wonhee asked one morning, leaning in slightly as she studied your face.

You glanced up, pen still in hand, with a soft smile on your face. “I am.”

“You’ve been strange.”

“... I’m always strange?”

“I know, but it’s... strange,” she said, unconvinced.

Yunah, who had been quietly flipping through her book, looked between you both before speaking. “She’s studying.”

Wonhee frowned. “She always studies, more than usual though.”

“Not like this,” Yunah repeated, echoing her earlier tone with a subtle difference. She nodded toward your desk. “She hasn’t looked up once.”

You hadn’t realized that. “There are tests this week, and the one I messed up last time can be improved with this new one.”

“There’s always a test, but you will do great this time,” Wonhee muttered under her breath, the last part gentle.

You didn’t argue, just giving her another small smile because this time it felt like enough of an answer.

“Also, we have something for you.” Then Yunah reached into her bag and placed a white envelope on top of your book. Your name neatly written on it and their names just beneath, you could recognize the envelope anywhere.

“It’s nothing big,” she said. “Just take it.”

Wonhee nudged it a little closer to you at the sight of you staring at it in disbelief. “Don’t leave it there.”

Your throat tightened before you could respond.

“And—” Wonhee hesitated, then took your hand, her grip warm and clumsy. “Next time you go… to the ginkgo tree—”

Yunah picked up gently, “—would it be alright if we came with you?”

You nodded before you could trust your voice. The room blurred, and you quickly looked down, pretending to adjust the envelope in your hands.

“Hey,” Wonhee said quietly, not letting your hand go, “don’t cry here.”

You let out a small breath before leaning forward, wrapping your arms around them both. “Thank you.”

As you heard your classmates rushing to their desks, the moment had to be broken apart, quickly putting your envelope away in one of your books to clean up the tears that escaped from your eyes, right before the teacher arrived a few seconds later.

Months ago, there had always been an awareness that sat beneath your thoughts, mostly the sense of where he was in the room, of whether he had arrived yet, of whether he would speak. Now that it was gone, the absence had shape and made you return to your focused self.

And that also goes to how the hours passed, barely noticing when the bell rang. Wonhee saw you placing your things without thinking about it. 

“Wait—already?” Wonhee called after you, her voice trailing as she wrestled her bag into place. “You’re leaving first?”

“I’m not leaving first.”

“You are right now.”

You adjusted the strap on your shoulder and glanced at her. “I want to go to the library today.”

“Are you actually studying there?”

“Yes.”

Wonhee let out a long, exaggerated groan. “You’re becoming unbearable.”

Yunah laughed, and you did too, the sound slipping out easily. “It’s only for a few weeks. Come with me next time—I’ll explain Civics to you.”

Wonhee physically recoiled at that, clutching her chest like she’d been personally attacked. “Fine. I’m taking that offer, but I won’t enjoy it.”

“I’ll go too,” Yunah added once she caught her breath. “Just in case she tries to escape.”

“I’ll see you girls, tomorrow! ”

You stepped away before Wonhee could argue again, slipping out of the conversation and to the same after-class scenery: clusters of students, familiar paths worn into the space, and several conversations. Nothing had changed, except that the way you moved through it had.

Crossing without slowing down, your gaze stayed forward, not sparing a glance at the corridor where he sometimes stood or the field as you just walked.

The absence didn’t pull at you or demand notice. It stayed to exist without asking anything of you and closing on its own. You hadn’t decided to come here more often. It wasn’t a plan you’d made or a habit you’d set out to build. To your luck, the library had begun to feel less of an obligation.

You had always come when you needed to finish an assignment or just to be outside your house, knowing how passionate your dad got while painting the walls with music. The librarian would even say hello to you since you used to arrive when there wasn’t a clear reason, like today, only wanting to read a new book that your father thought you might like in English, so you can improve.

It would have been easier to follow your friends out through the gates to enjoy the rest of the afternoon, but after all the studying you had done, you wanted to be alone.

The library received you with the soft turn of pages, the occasional scrape of a chair, the low presence of other people existing alongside you without interruption. You took your usual seat by the window after picking up the two grammar books for the next test. At some point, the rest of the day slipped past without you noticing, too focused on reading your book.

“…Is this seat taken?”

The voice pulls you from the quiet gravity of your book, a soft interruption that feels almost out of place in the stillness. You look up, blinking once, twice—more out of surprise than confusion. It takes a second to place him, not because you don’t recognize him, but because you hadn’t expected to see him here, out of all places.

Zhao Yufan, one of Juhoon’s closest friends.

A flicker of guilt passes through you. You’ve seen him before—of course you have—but only caught your eye once or twice when he did something funny with his taller friend just to make everyone else crack a smile. 

Still, you can’t deny it. He’s handsome.

You envied the balance of his features—soft, but not unremarkable. Defined, but not in a way that feels intentional. As if he wasn’t shaped to impress, he happened to be. Your gaze lingers on his eyes briefly. They’re the first thing that holds you there—calm, slightly downturned at the corners, giving him a thoughtful look. There’s no sharpness to them, no edge meant to intimidate. Not when he’s looking at you with such gentle eyes, it’s almost impossible to read.

His skin is smooth, even, marked here and there with faint scars. His expression rests in that space between neutral and curious. And his lips, softly shaped and with balanced thickness, sit in a relaxed line that makes you wonder for a moment what they’d look like if he smiled without holding back, which probably might change everything.

His hair falls in uneven strands across his forehead, slightly tousled, which doesn’t look intentional. It suits him effortlessly, softening whatever distance his expression might have created, and makes him feel closer somehow.

“Um… no,” you say, realizing a second too late that he’s asked you something. Your eyes flick to the empty chair across from you, and you gesture toward it. “Go ahead.”

“Thanks.”

He moves quietly, pulling the chair out with minimal sound, setting his books down with the same careful ease. You brace yourself for the awkwardness that usually follows in this type of situation, but it never quite arrives. He doesn’t look at you again right away,  just opens his book, settling into his work like your presence doesn’t complicate anything.

You return to your own pages, this time from the grammar book for your English class. Eventually, you both reach for the same reference book, causing your fingers to brush.

“Oh—sorry,” you said immediately, pulling your hand back.

“It’s okay,” he replied, just as quickly. None of you moved after that, then he shifted the book slightly toward you. “You can take it.”

“You were reaching for it too.”

“I can wait.”

“…Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Totally”

You hesitated before taking it, your fingers brushing the edge of the cover instead of his this time.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Before you can think too hard about it, you glance up again. “How about we read it together?”

He doesn’t react at first, but when you see his eyes lift from the page, meeting yours with surprise, his gaze shifts briefly to the book in your hands, then back to you.

“…Together?” he repeats, like he’s making sure he heard you right.

You nod, suddenly more aware of how this might sound than you were a moment ago. “It’s—uh, kind of annoying to wait for it. We’re probably looking for the same thing anyway.”

A small pause follows before he leans back slightly in his chair, considering it.

“…Okay,” he says.

You made a small space next to you for him to put his chair, and the book was placed between you two for him to see. Your shoulders don’t touch, but you’re aware of how close they could. The silence came back between you two as you both looked down at the same page, silently figuring out where to start.

“Were you in this section?” you ask, pointing lightly to a paragraph near the middle.

“Yeah,” he replies, leaning in just slightly. “That part explains it better than the earlier one.”

You hum in acknowledgment, eyes tracing the lines as you read. It’s easier this time, and now and then, one of you points something out like a sentence, a detail, or a correction.

The rest of the time slips with quiet exchanges, shared glances at the same lines, the occasional murmur of agreement. Later, you stop keeping track of whose hand moves first, whose voice breaks the silence. It blends easily and unforcedly, and turns out, Yufan was good at English, so he helped you with the pronunciation from time to time.

Deep down, you felt a little disappointed at how quickly time had flown by, even though you’d been able to relax with Yufan for at least ten minutes earlier. You closed your notebook with a small exhale, gathering your things.

“Are you leaving?”

“Yes.”

He nodded, closing his own book. “Me too.”

You weren’t sure why you waited, but you did just long enough for him to stand. Outside, the air had cooled slightly, announcing how the night was getting closer.

“You stay late often?” he asked after a bit of walking side by side.

“Recently. I do that when it’s exam season.”

“Mm.”

“You?”

“Not usually,” he admitted. “But I had more to finish today.”

You nodded, adjusting your grip on your bag. “You’re good at focusing.”

You blinked. “What?”

“In there,” he gestured lightly toward the school behind you. “You didn’t look up once.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t realized. “…I guess.”

“It’s impressive.”

“It’s just studying.”

“Still. I can’t even sit still for a couple of minutes—I just pulled it off to match your energy.”

There’s something playful in his tone that catches you off guard. You let out a small laugh before you can stop it, and the way his expression shifts—quietly pleased—makes it feel like he’d been waiting for that.

“That’s very kind of you, Yufan.”

“James.”

“Mh?”

“Call me James. It’s easier.”

“But I like your name.”

That, apparently, surprises him enough for him to lift one of his eyebrow lifts. “Liar.”

“I’m serious,” you insist, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I think it’s pretty… but if you want me to call you James, that’s okay. I can make that sacrifice.”

He laughs this time, it felt even warmer than the evening air, softer than the fading light. You slow your steps without meaning to.

“I go this way,” you say, gesturing ahead.

“Same,”

“I didn’t know you lived nearby.”

“Not too far.”

The quiet that follows isn’t awkward, but it soon fills with your conversations. “…Keonho talks a lot,”

A small laugh escapes you before you can hold it back, remembering how you and Yunah placed a bet once on who speaks the most, him or Wonhee. “He does.”

“He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know!”

“He just fills space with the most random things. So does Martin.”

“That makes sense,” you say, glancing down for a moment. “They get along so well.”

He looks at you then, briefly but directly. “You don’t.”

You frown, a little puzzled. “I don’t talk much.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

You turn your head toward him, confusion softening your expression. He doesn’t explain right away, letting the moment sit there. “You don’t need to.”

Something about the way he says it makes your chest feel different, but before you can figure out why, he nods toward a smaller street branching off ahead. “This is me.”

You stop. “Oh.”

“Let’s keep going,” he says.

“James, we’re in your street.”

“I don’t want to let you go alone; let me take you home safe.”

It’s said simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He reaches out, hand hovering before gently nudging yours forward, urging you to keep walking. The contact is light, fleeting—but it made your face warm instantly and forced you to look away, walking forward before he has the chance to notice.

Or maybe he does.

The street stretches ahead as your footsteps walk side by side, the conversations growing as both of you arrive at your house.

“Hold on, you are Juhoon’s neighbor?”

“Yes, for a couple of years now, actually.” 

“I didn’t know that,” he says, glancing between your house and his, fitting pieces together a little too late. “That makes sense.”

You smile faintly. “Does it?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, hands slipping into his pockets. “You’re around more than I thought. I just didn’t notice properly.”

“Well,” you murmur with your eyes on him, “you’re noticing now.”

“Glad I am.”

You stood in front of the cool metal of your gate with your key in hand. “I had a good time,” he says then, almost like it surprises him to admit it out loud.

Again, you were caught off guard, but this time, it’s easier to smile. “Me too.” Your door finally opened. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, James.” 

You take a step back, already half-turning toward your door.

“…Yufan sounds nice, too.” Once the words lingered in the air, you looked back at him just to see the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow, Yufan,” you corrected, his smile growing a little in size.

“I’ll be happy to see you tomorrow,” he says. “Y/N.”

You nod once before slipping inside, closing the gate behind you. But even as you walk toward your door, you give one last glance back once more. He’s still there, waiting for you to enter safely and to wave his hand softly before he finally turns and heads home.

Who would have thought that Yufan was that sweet?

─── BLR DIDN'T WANT ME TO POST THIS BC OF THE 1K BLOCK LIMIT </3! Hence, I'm posting the first part out so you all can stop waiting (and yes, we are missing more scenes). The second part will come out hours later today or on Thursday, but it WILL. Tysm for waiting, it feels so good to be back on cortisblr yall 🚬🩷

MUSIC WAS YOUR HOME. YOUR LOVE. you don’t know when it started. how it started. but for the longest time you’ve loved music. maybe you heard a really good song when you were little or you had one that you couldn’t get out of your head and it made you want to search for more. either way, it was one of the things you couldn’t let go. 

you had a bunch of band posters stuck on your wall for years, some of them barely sticking onto your wall. and your vinyls on another. they were like your work of art. so many different bands and artists from all the phases you’ve had. maybe it’s the nostalgia you get looking at your room that made you love music so much. 

but you’ve always wanted music to share with someone. to sit there with a person you loved, listening to songs you thought reminded you of them. you always believed music was something best shared. the experiences you had with others and music of course the most memorable. 

you’ve always wanted your love with someone to be as beautiful as music is. 

he’d run your hand through your hair while he held you in his arms, a stupid love song playing on your record player. or you’d hold hands while you shared headphones, walking on a field of flowers. maybe that wouldn’t be so realistic. but you still wanted something to remember everyday. something that was romantic. sentimental. something you’d replay in your mind all the time like a favourite song on loop. 

but you’ve always let that become a distant dream because when you got so close, it got so hard. when it finally felt easy, you let them go. when the yearning was over, it didn’t feel right. but truly, love wasn’t easy. 

it wasn’t carefree and magical like the movies showed. it was scary. it would break you right after putting you back together. it, like all good things, never lasted. 

you were scared to let yourself fall again. so scared to trust anyone with your heart and love. and it ruined all the chances you ever had with love. 

so many boys have come in and out of your life with sweet words they didn’t mean. with glances they’d give any other girl. it was never real, never original. it was an endless cycle of heartbreak and fear that you found yourself never being able to escape from. 

you hadn’t really opened up your heart. 

yet you still believed in true love. that maybe you didn’t let go cause it just wasn’t the right time. or those boys just weren’t worth all of it. that your love was waiting out there for you. somewhere. like destiny or fate. and you would share your love for music with him too, someday. 

“hello? earth to y/n? daydreaming about love again?” rei nudged you, resting her cheek in her palm as she teased you. your eyes darted around the room suspiciously, earning a laugh from rei. 

“i knew it! you’re such a hopeless romantic, my little lover girl. the boy that steals your heart will be the luckiest guy on the planet!” rei smiled, interlocking your fingers with hers. you couldn’t help but smile back at her, tilting your head. 

rei was your best friend. the cute girl with the really hot boyfriend and bunny cheeks. you wondered why you were called bunny and not her. 

with the cute bangs and the heart of an angel. your bestest friend. though when you first met you were probably her biggest enemy, you somehow managed to work it out. 

you were five, in the park, quarreling while a circle of kids surrounded you. you stole the swing she always went on, every single day. you were new to the neighbourhood she had lived in her whole life and she always swung on the left swing with the metal pink seat with scratched up paint and a dent. 

and one day you were bold enough to swing on it. and soon enough she was fuming and a whole crowd was watching you and screaming with you guys like it was brawl stars. 

but your parents forced you to apologise with a hug. and your mom forced you to share your cookies with her as compensation which she happened to love. then she loved you and you two became inseparable. 

and she was still the same sassy five year old you remembered. she still batted her eyelashes at you and mocked you when you whined, rolled her eyes when you were right. 

but she was still your best friend. still the girl that wiped your tears every time a boy broke your heart. and also got icing on her shirts for you every time you baked brownies for the school bake sales. 

“are you sure? i’m not quite good at handling love, you know?” you murmured, your tone filled with skepticism. 

“of course i know and that ends today.” she said, full of determination, pressed a fist to the table. 

rei was always more committed to your love life than you were. why? well, she really cared about your happiness. more than she would ever admit. she just hid it behind being a good friend.  

“eh, you’ve said that how many times exactly?” you lifted an unconvinced eyebrow, your skepticism now rather mocking. 

rei let out a loud whine, grabbing your shoulders. 

“stop being a debby downer! just cause i failed like a couple times doesn’t mean there’s no hope.” 

rei had a point. she was miss optimism all the time. even when it came to your failing love life. she never once gave up hope. it was probably the only reason why you hadn’t given up completely. because she just wouldn’t let you. 

the truth is, you’ve spent your life in fear of being alone. you hated being alone. even if you only had one person in your life, it was better than nothing. 

even if it didn’t fill your thoughts all the time, that fear lingered at the back of your mind and it just wouldn’t go away. 

what was the point of loving someone who’d leave in the end? you refused to attach yourself to someone who wasn’t willing to stay in the end. 

so you ran before you could figure out whether they were ready to stay. well, you liked to say you were saving yourself the trouble. 

maybe you wouldn’t have thrown so many pity parties if you just had a wee bit more hope. 

“okay, you might be right about that. but still, i’m going to make sure you get a boyfriend one of these days.” rei let go of your shoulders with a gentle squeeze, winking at you. 

“whatever helps you sleep at night.” you couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head in amusement. she just never stopped, did she? well, that was rei for you. 

“anywho. boba date at three, be there or be square.” of course it was a boba date. every time you went on a boba date, it was to plan your love life. well, there probably wasn’t a loser ready to fall for you. 

“i can assure you that i will not be square.”

“what i love to hear. i got a class to go to and a boy to kiss, ciao!” she smiled, blowing a kiss at you as she walked to her boyfriend. 

you felt your lips curve up as you watched them disappear, wide grins gracing their lips.

rei was lucky enough to not end up like you, constantly overcoming her fears. she didn’t really care as much as you did. you only live once, she always said. she was right. 

rei and her boyfriend made you believe that true love probably did exist. you were yet to find it, eventually. who knows, maybe you would be just as lucky as her. 

you snapped out of your thoughts, getting up from your seat. you had classes too. and you also had vinyls to buy. something to occupy your mind for the time being. 

something to take your mind off love. 

the record store bell jingled above your head as you opened the door, the soft noise of songs playing in the background filling your ears. every corner you looked at had a shelf of vinyls or a bunch of music posters. 

there was a small, quieter space though. windows with sunlight that filtered through them that gave you a gorgeous view of the sunset. with a plush, dark purple couch with funky cushions. you’d always sit there when you needed to disappear from the world. 

it was your space, sort of. everyone’s space, really. but it was your own on tuesdays and thurdays. 

you smiled as you made it to the box of records you always searched through, flipping through the vinyls. 

this specific box always had the best songs in there. it was like a treasure chest and those records were your gold. shining so preciously at you like they were asking to be bought. 

but then you felt a pair of eyes on you, drilling holes through your head. and when you looked up, you saw a blondie. you hadn’t seen him before. 

in all the months of you going to this record store, you hadn’t seen him once. but you felt like you’d seen him somewhere else before.

he seemed quite awkward from the way he looked away from you so quickly. but he was cute. 

his hair was straightened, almost reaching his eyes and he had this really cool graphic tee on which looked pretty old from the peeling fabric paint. he also had a bunch of bracelets on and some silver rings, the pencil in his hand moving swiftly as he wrote in his notebook. 

you pressed your elbow on the box, resting your cheek on your palm. he looked up again, meeting your eyes fully this time. your smile widened slightly, one creeping onto his face slowly. 

“like what you see?” he teased, resting his cheek in his palm as well. you stood up fully, scoffing to yourself. 

“i should be asking you that question.” you joked, looking back down to pick out a vinyl you liked. 

“hm, i guess so. is that a problem?” 

“hmm, i don’t know.”

“you’re cheeky,” you walked to the counter, placing the vinyl down in front of him. “hm, frank ocean. you have taste. i guess you’re not that bad.” he smiled softly, scanning the barcode on the back. you rolled your eyes, poking his hand. 

“what, is your music taste better?” you raised an eyebrow, his words almost like a challenge. 

“yeah. it probably is. i mean, i do work at a music store.” he shrugged his shoulders, handing you back your vinyl. 

“prove it then,” you took a pen that you saw on the table, pulling his hand to write down your number. his eyes widened slightly but he didn’t pull away. “text me later. we’ll see who really has the better music taste, um-”

“martin.” martin. you knew that name. that was the name of one of juhoon’s friends. but juhoon didn’t have friends this hot. well, not that you knew of. 

“martin? hm, are you buddies with juhoon?” you asked softly, squinting at him slightly. 

“yep. are you?” 

“yeah. y/n, the most goated best friend.” you boasted, flicking your hair arrogantly. martin smiled at you, slightly amused.

“heard that name before. didn’t think juhoon would have a cute friend like you.” how could he so casually call you cute after being so incredibly awkward? 

you had to pretend that that didn’t affect you. 

“so you do like what you see.” you said, your tone accusatory, more of a statement than a question. 

“you caught me.” martin chuckled softly, lifting his hands up in surrender. 

martin was something else. 

“well, tell jju i say hi and text me. if you want to of course.” you stammered slightly, walking backwards to the door with a bashful grin. 

“yeah. just don’t buzz my line, okay?” 

“mm, i should be saying that to you.” you slipped out the door, the bell jingling after you. 

the second you turned on the sidewalk, you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. he was really cute. super cute. and really attractive. and he was juhoon’s friend. finally the odds were working in your favour. 

“hey, lover girl! you look like you just saw a boy. a really cute boy. is he the real deal?” she giggled, fiddling with the pink faux leather of the menu. you sighed as you sat down, your cheeks pressed to your palms. 

“really cute. ugh, i can’t do this!” you groaned, staring at the menu with a pout. rei let out a bark of laughter, pointing at you like you were some stupid joke. 

“aha! how cute? tell me, tell me! i need to know everything!” 

“well, he had this really cool band shirts and this super cool jewellery and this blonde hair and like he just looked so cute, ugh.” 

“and?”

“i sorta kinda gave him my number.”

“y/n l/n!” rei called out, rising from her seat in one swift movement. everyone looked at her like she was crazy, her hand moving to cover her mouth embarrassingly. 

“shut up! it was nothing. it was just for music suggestions, nothing more.” you whisper-shouted, slapping her arm. she winced, rubbing the spot you hit as she sat down. 

“yeah right and i’m ariana grande. don’t you know that’s like code for i want you? please say you weren’t awkward about it.” 

“i sort of wrote it on his hand.”

“oh my gosh, y/n!” rei called out again, louder than before. everyone looked at her again, all with irritated expressions. she smiled apologetically, whispering a loud ‘sorry’. 

“on his hand? just call him your man already.”

you smiled at the waitress that handed you your food, chuckling softly at rei’s words.

“okay, please. that was one, small and very innocent interaction-”

“sweetheart, that’s innocent on jupiter. get back down to earth, that is so much more than innocent. he so wants you.” would a cute boy like him really want you? maybe on neptune.

“no. no, no, no! do not get my hopes up. he’s just an acquaintance. and a soon-to-be friend hopefully. as long as you don’t interfere.” you narrowed your eyes at her, pointing a finger at her. she flinched, sipping her boba nervously. 

“okay, fine! no matchmaking. yet. who even is this guy to have you acting all crazy? not even i know this y/n.” 

“martin. juhoon’s friend. can’t believe jju is capable of having such hot friends.” you said, shaking your head in disbelief. 

“martin? oh my gosh!” she paused, looking at you with a sly grin on her face. 

“so that’s your kind of cute, huh? okay, player, i see you. love life here we come. he is sitting next to you in class.”

“ugh, rei! stop! he will not be my boyfriend. and he is not sitting next to me. no matchmaking whatsoever.” you grumbled, sipping your boba with a pout. 

he was in your classes too. how did you not notice him? you probably wouldn’t pay attention in class if you caught a glimpse of him. 

“no promises, cutie. he should call you that. i’ll make it happe-”

“no matchmaking!” how would cutie sound off his lips? 

“fine, lover girl. suit yourself. you’ll be on your knees begging me to help you get with him soon. very soon.” you couldn’t tell if she was threatening you or telling you it would happen. either way you didn’t want to take her seriously. 

what would happen if you actually fell for him?

“TINNY! WHO GOT YOU SMILING LIKE THAT? was it a new record in stock or was it a really cute girl cause i have a feeling it’s both.” keonho giggled, grinning like a cheshire cat as he looked at the music posters then at martin.

“well, it’s a really, um cute girl, i guess.” 

“finally, now you can be sappy with a girl for once.” juhoon murmured, slouching down into the purple couch. 

“oh, no. she’s really cute. but she’s so out of my league, guys. like she’s a goddess and i’m,” martin looked down at himself like he was a peasant. “well, me. she would not like a guy like me.”

“but a girl like her wrote her number on your hand,” seonghyeon murmured, lifting martin’s hand to look at your neatly written name and number with a heart. “‘y/n.’ dude, hoon, that’s your best friend.” 

“since when did she become this bold?” juhoon asked quietly, looking at seonghyeon with a surprised gaze. 

keonho giggled again, gasping at the heart on martin’s hand. 

“dude, a heart and you just met the girl? she wants you bad! just call her your girl already.” he gushed, batting his eyelashes at martin.

“no, keonho. no. nope. not at all. i have like no chance with her and i’ve accepted it.” he sighed with resignation, closing his diary. 

“nah, y/n probably finds you cute.” juhoon said, fiddling with a pencil. martin and cute? it couldn’t be. 

“how would you know that?” 

“we’re best friends, i know her. you have a chance.” juhoon looked up at him, completely serious. juhoon wasn’t a liar. if anything, he was super wise. like an old man in a teenage body. 

he was always right too. maybe now he’d be wrong. martin wanted to believe he was wrong.  

he was martin. you wouldn’t like him. he looked at the heart on his hand and fully believed that it was just kindness. 

martin had no love life. nothing. he’d never liked a girl or let alone loved a girl. he barely talked to girls too. 

he just sat alone, when he wasn’t with his friends of course, listening to music like it could make him forget about the world awaiting him. and it did. 

he seemed to shut out the world around him when he listened to music. like the only thing that mattered in that moment were the beats per minute. but even though he could push everything else away, he couldn’t push away love. 

martin was a huge cheeseball and wanted to be in love. he always wanted to give a girl the world. 

he wanted to hold a girl’s hand and call her his girlfriend. even hugging a girl too. the only girl he ever hugged was his teacher in elementary school. okay, she doesn’t count.

he didn’t feel hopeless though. he was patient. good things come with time, they say. he just had to believe in it. 

“hello?” he said, waiting for your voice on the other line. 

“look who’s blowing up my line now. you miss me already.” your teases rang in his ear, a smile slowly spreading across his lips. 

“fine, you got me again. your ego’s too big, y/n.” 

“maybe yours isn’t big enough.”

“it shouldn’t be big. i’m me, y/n.” he murmured, slumping against his wall. he didn’t just say that. he sounded like a complete loser. 

“that’s bullshit, you’re super cut-wait no. you’re really attractiv-nope. uhm wait-”

“y/n.” martin interrupted you, that smile coming back to his lips. 

“yes.” you replied, your voice shaky with embarrassment. 

“did you just call me cute? and attractive?”

“well um. uh…ye…ah. but not in the way you’re thinking! just to boost your ego, okay?” you exclaimed defensively, blurting out whatever excuse you could think of. you couldn’t believe that you just did that. 

“okay. whatever you say.” 

“you so don’t believe me!” you exclaimed through the other line, letting out a huff. “ugh, i’m so stupid!”

“no, you just like what you see. and that’s kinda cute.” 

“ugh, if this is you with an ego, i don’t like it.” you mumbled, your cheeks heating up. he was making you blush and you wanted to die. 

“you do. but, i won’t push it out of you. anyway, i got some songs for you. they remind me of you. well um, just like, they’re you-coded.” 

he already had songs that reminded him of you. martin was so much cheesier than he had imagined. 

“hmm, i see. already thinking that much of me. oh, martin. i have loads of homework but just text me them.” you said, laced with playful smugness. martin couldn’t help but smile. you sure were something. 

truth is, he didn’t want to stop talking to you. he liked hearing the things you had to say. the teased you had to give. your voice was really sweet too. but some things come first. 

he certainly wasn’t a priority if you just met him. 

but he was thinking about you already. that smile. it was really pretty too. martin was starting to like you already. was it supposed to be this quick?

he didn’t really know. maybe it was those love-at-first-sight instances. those only existed in books though, didn’t they? 

“i will. bye.” 

he opened his notebook, scribbling down his unfinished notes. he had to occupy himself with something. just not you. 

he couldn’t do his homework. he wasn’t thinking right. he’d finish it in the morning. he just couldn’t stop thinking about you. he couldn’t force the thoughts away. he didn’t really want to. 

he couldn’t sleep either. he lay awake, staring at his ceiling. he was starting to like you. he could feel it. what would he do when he saw you again?

what would he say? hopefully nothing stupid.  

the store was closing soon, the sun setting outside casting a golden glow on everything. you would probably look so beautiful under the rays. martin was right. 

“hi, martin!” your warm voice cut through the silence. you instantly went to a box of vinyls, flicking through them briefly. “i bet you thought i wouldn’t come, didn’t you?” 

“this place is your second home, obviously you’d be here.” he didn’t want to admit the doubt that churned in his stomach. 

“well, the queen has arrived, what shall she purchase today?” you said to yourself, tapping your chin in thought as you ran your fingers along the vinyls like the brittles on a comb. martin smiled at you, walking around the counter to stand next to you. 

“well, what is the queen looking for today?” he asked playfully, raising an eyebrow at you. you laughed, turning to martin.

“well, the queen is feeling like a lover girl today.”

“don’t you feel like a lover girl everyday?” he questioned, tilted his head to the side. 

“let me be special!” you whined, slapping martin’s arm. 

“you are.” you had to ignore the flutter in your chest this time. what did he even mean by that? 

“okay, then pick a special lover girl vinyl just for me.” you were quite bold to say the least. well, you made it very clear that you liked being cared for. or being special to someone. martin probably.

“hm, so many options. well, i’d choose this.” he took out a vinyl, handing it to you. your fingers brushed each other, his heart beating faster. your hand was soft, just like you were.

“melting by kali uchis, hm. nice, mars!” 

“yeah, it came in a few weeks ago, it just reminded me of you.” 

“really? hm, i guess i’ll have to figure out why.” you said, a curious smile playing on your lips. you knew the lyrics well. you just didn’t want to think martin felt that way. 

“good luck to the queen then.” you smiled, poking his nose.

“mm, good luck to me indeed.” 

the store fell into a gentle silence, martin’s eyes fixed on you. you looked into his eyes, the sun hitting your face just right. you were glowing and you looked so ethereal. 

he pulled his hand away after a few moments, his touch lingering. his hand was there for longer than it should have. a beat longer. a second longer. maybe even a few seconds longer. you weren’t counting. 

“you’re really sweet, tin. and your music taste is also pretty sweet too.” you lifted your head up just enough to look at him, the both of you laughing. 

“well, y/n, you’re also really sweet. and your music taste isn’t so bad,” you nudged him, causing him to wince. “okay, it’s sweeter than mine.” 

you smiled, clutching your vinyl to your chest. 

“want me to walk you home? it’s getting kinda late.” he asked, tilting his head at you. 

“well, bold move. if you insist.” you teased, elbowing his side before walking out the door with him. 

he wanted an excuse to see you longer and somehow it was working. 

the sun was almost down, the sky a blend of blues and oranges, the stars starting to dust the sky. it was gentle, a comfortable silence. he didn’t want to talk. he just wanted to be with you. just for a little while. 

soon enough you were at your door. it felt like it was just a few seconds. he turned to you, staring at your face. he didn’t want to look away. 

you looked up at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. you nudged his arm playfully. 

“so quiet.” you whispered, a hushed tease. 

your house looked like you. the white picket fence outside your house. the beautiful blooms of bright flowers on your bushes and trees just as pretty as you were. the white arm chairs with pink floral cushions, the pink curtains on the second story window to the right. your room. 

“i’ll remember your house too. it’s pretty memorable. all the pink. guess it’s a generational thing.” he teased, looking around at everything like he was committing to his memory. 

“well, you’re right. it is. except for my dad. he’s not exactly a pink fan. but yeah, i love pink.” 

“maybe you’ll tell me about all the things you love next time.” he said, more of a question than a statement, tilting his head with hopeful eyes. 

“yeah, i will. bye, mars.” he didn’t want to say goodbye to you. not when you had that adorable smile on your face and those gentle eyes. 

“see you tomorrow, y/n.” he said, hiding his disappointment. he had to. you couldn’t know that he was starting to like you. your pretty face and your perfect personality. 

only cause he knew he wasn’t meant for you.

YOUR VINYL COLLECTION WAS GROWING DAY BY DAY. well, your feelings too. you were surprised by how many songs the both of you liked. another thing that got to you. 

it was oddly charming to you. when someone had the same interest in something you did. 

he didn’t pretend either. well, he worked in a music store. but still. you saw the way his eyes glimmered when you knew a song he did or when he talked about a favourite artist of his. 

you loved that look in his eyes. it looked like the love you’ve seen in the eyes of lovers. people that know who they’ll spend the rest of their life with. almost like that. 

it made your heart flutter every single time. you didn’t want to fall for martin. you didn’t know what it would do to you. you didn’t want to hurt him. but he was different. so different. you didn’t know anyone like him at all. 

it made you scared. what if you ran on instinct but this is something real? you’ve spent a lot of time hurting yourself. feeling the pain so much that you were numb. you almost expected it each time. 

but you didn’t want that to be an expectation for martin. or a shock. you didn’t want anything like that for him. he was too sweet for that. 

you didn’t know what that flutter in your chest was. to be frank. it was just a feeling you couldn’t force yourself to feel with anything else or anyone else. only him. 

and you felt that little bit of hope in your heart growing, very slowly. 

you placed a vinyl on your record player carefully, one of your favourites that also seemed to be a favourite of his too. get you by daniel caeser. juhoon loved it too. well, was juhoon really important right now? not really. no, he wasn’t at all important. 

maybe listening to music would distract you from your feelings. at least you hoped so. if anything it made it worse. 

it was a love song. you didn’t want to listen to it anymore. maybe another song. 

okay, starstudded by malcolm todd. you listened for only thirty seconds before taking it off your record player. another love song. 

okay, another. pretty boy by the neighborhood. you really loved that song. you wanted to smash your record player. another fucking love song. why did martin only give you love songs? 

and why did he say a lot of them reminded you of him? 

maybe it was the beat. maybe there was a certain part he thought you’d like. it couldn’t have been the lyrics. 

well, most of the time lyrics are what remind someone of another person when it comes to songs. you know that. it works like that for you. it probably works like that for everyone.

martin couldn’t have possibly felt anything for you. i mean you two were really just, well, friends. acquaintances? you hadn’t really said what the relationship between you two was. 

god, you didn’t even know what you were. it was just platonic. simply just platonic. you just met the guy. it had been what, just three weeks. 

you turned off the record player, hugging your pillow to your chest. 

rock music it is. 

MARTIN WAS BEYOND COOKED. he already had your number. he had already texted you. and called you. 

he was in your classes, he even sat next to you in some of them. and he saw you almost every single day at the record store. 

somehow he also always had a song recommendation for you. it was always a love song. he hoped you wouldn’t notice. 

all of this in the span of three weeks. and he was convinced he had zero game. well, to be fair, he did say all of this and ask all of this with clammy hands and a million stutters. 

it wasn’t even attractive so you probably didn’t even feel attracted to him. every single time he stuttered he asked himself why you called him cute and attractive. it was out of kindness. 

no probably, no maybe. it was. he knew it was. out of spite. maybe even pity. no, cross that out and scrap it, it was out of pity. 

but he was starting to like you. romantically. he hadn’t ever liked a girl before. he wasn’t good with the ladies and he knew that. yet somehow you were still talking to him. 

he was close to saying something really gross to drive you away. he didn’t deserve someone as perfect as you. god, he was even calling you perfect. 

he was done for. 

it was just a stupid crush, he told himself. even though he had favourite things about you and you made his heart race. he had to tell himself that every time he went to sleep and every time he woke up. if it repeated in his head like a mantra maybe it’d get through. 

newsflash, it didn’t. 

YOU FOUND YOURSELF AT THE RECORD STORE AGAIN. it wasn’t martin’s shift day though. part of you was glad. 

you sat alone at your purple couch, sketching in your notebook. you were supposed to be doing homework. you did it. well, part of it. then you started thinking of martin half way through and you had to distract yourself. so you started drawing a lily, your favourite flower. you loved drawing lilies. 

you found yourself looking for distractions a lot as of late. most of the time it was drawing lilies. it would work sometimes, working meaning getting your mind off martin. if you just focused on colouring the flower really nicely you wouldn’t even pay attention to him. 

but it was bad. really bad. when you started to like someone, you’d think about them all the time. it could be anything really. like riding a bike or falling down a staircase. it didn’t matter what it was, it would just always have them there. 

he was always there. lurking in your mind, buzzing around like a mosquito you couldn’t kill. you didn’t want to kill him. you just wanted to kill the thoughts of him. though they were very, very nice. 

snap out of it!

the one time you could distract yourself though, the man of the hour just had to appear. 

“hey, y/n.” oh god, you should’ve just dug up your grave right then and there. rei and juhoon would have probably ruled your death as due to unknown causes but really it was due to having a crush.

and he was clueless. he was waving his hand like a respectful guy. why couldn’t he be some jerk ready to play you? and his stupid smile made it so hard for you to try and ignore him too. 

“hi…” you greeted in this really high-pitched tone, so embarrassingly high that you thought you would’ve chased martin away. you almost dropped your pen too, catching it quickly as it slipped through your fingers. then you smiled at him nervously, mentally cursing at yourself. 

he was for sure going to stop recommending you songs. 

“quick reflexes i see. and cool drawing too. nice.” he uttered, staring at your notebook with so much interest in his eyes. a gentle pique in his curiosity. that made your heart flutter. 

“thanks.” you mumbled, looking at the lily as well. yeah, the drawing, y/n. he was interested in the drawing, not you. 

the pretty pink petals and the small black dots you had to squint to see clearly. so much for a good conversation. 

“oddly quiet today. did the english homework scar you for life?” he joked, plopping down next to you. he nudged your shoulder playfully, which you did back, a small smile growing on your lips. 

“uh-huh. just trying to distract myself from how hard it is… i’ll finish it eventually.” you couldn’t stop stuttering. god, you were just so awkward. and you thought he was awkward when you first met. you’re ten times worse. no, a hundred! 

“i see. it’s romance though. that’s your forte.” he looked at you, right in your eyes, almost like he was trying to read you. you couldn’t even lie to fix the situation either.

romance was indeed your forte. you seemed to know so much about it but you didn’t have any good memories of it. that’s just the way things go in your life. 

“mm, just a little mind-boggling, that’s all.” you shrugged, trying your hardest to hide the turmoil in your head. why did he have to be so martin?

“ah, okay.” 

“why aren’t you on a shift?” you asked curiously after a few moments of silence, finally finding something to say to keep the conversation going. 

“oh, it’s not my shift day. we gotta get a break from everything at some point.” 

“yeah. right.” you nodded, scratching the back of your neck. a million times worse. 

“well, i’ll leave you to it, just wanted to say hi. i’ll see you tomorrow in class?” he got up, patting your shoulder gently. you felt that same flutter again. it was so uncomfortable yet so warm. 

he had was there for a few more seconds, too long to be friendly, the warmth dissipating as he lifted his hand up. 

“mm-hm. with finished homework.” you promised, lifting up a finger. you couldn’t even be as humorous as he is. yet he still smiled. he even laughed too. 

“i’ll hold you to it.” he looked back at you one last time before disappearing out the door, the bell jingling after him. 

as much as you could barely hold that conversation with him, you didn’t want it to end. you wanted him to stay and watch you draw and tell you about something stupid. maybe you’d get a chance again. 

but really you couldn’t stop denying yourself anymore. 

you had a crush on martin edwards. 

MARTIN COULDN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT YOU. the second he reached his room, he took out a vinyl from his shelf. a love song you both really liked. pretty boy by the neighborhood. 

he thought it would’ve made it better. spoiler alert, it didn’t! he didn’t know what to do about it. 

martin never liked a girl. no stupid crushes. not even one in middle school. he wasn’t even sure it was a crush. he had to search up this stuff on google because his friends couldn’t know about this. google!

they wouldn’t let him see tomorrow. 

plus, juhoon was your best friend. you two were as close as can be. you were practically glued to each other. what would that do? 

it’s like girl code just without the dating part and the girl part. then there’s really no girl code. he just felt like it was wrong. liking your best friend’s best friend. 

he flipped the record over when the song finished, the song replaying for the third time. was martin supposed to shoot his shot? was he supposed to tell his friends? he never hid anything from them. he couldn’t. 

no. none of the above. 

he had to take it slow. become your friend. yes, become your friend. then his feelings will get in the way. just not now. it wasn’t time yet. 

seventh time. 

he lifted the stylus, taking the vinyl out. he stopped listening to it before he got sick of the sound. 

just friends, he said to himself. just friends. even if it hurt a little. you could only be just friends. just until he figured out what he was going to do about you. 

and until he figured out whether he deserved you or not. 

REI AND JUHOON LOVED SCHEMING. it was like their love language for you. any time you had something remotely close to good they made sure it was great. amazing. wonderful. whatever you wanted to call it. 

their scheming was never your cup of tea. you hated how good at it they were. but you still gave them their flowers at the end of the day. 

you and martin were their next project. 

that’s why you had full intentions of keeping it a secret. 

you weren’t good at keeping secrets. they’d slip out eventually or you’d be forced to tell them. you never won. you had to learn to keep them starting now. 

you wanted to be martin’s friend. not his girlfriend. sure he was really hot but you barely knew him. and he was juhoon’s buddy. you couldn’t do that. that’s like altering the balance of the universe. 

and you just didn’t want to hurt him. 

you didn’t know what you would do if you fell for martin. what if he would be another guy you didn’t give your heart to? what if you pushed him away out of fear? he didn’t deserve that. 

you knew he was a good person. from all the time you had spent with him, you knew enough to say that he was a good person. one that most definitely isn’t capable of being a heartbreaker. he couldn’t even get his left and right correct. 

why would he hurt you? 

he wouldn’t. but you could have. you didn’t want to test the possibility. so you had to push away the feelings before they could even grow. for his sake and for yours. 

even though you still felt your hope for love growing even more. 

“hey, lily girl.” martin greeted, plopping down in the seat next to you. it was art class. the one class where you could unwind and forget about the schoolwork ahead of you. 

you had a pretty sweet teacher too. the cherry on top. rei sat next to you. juhoon sat with his friends. martin was one of them. now martin was sitting next to you.

you didn’t know if you wanted to shoo him away or keep him there. 

keep him there. 

“so you’re calling me lily girl now?” you joked, raising a curious eyebrow. 

“i can call you something else?” he asked, sinking into the chair beside you, his eyes never leaving yours. martin edwards. why couldn’t he just die?

“like?” well. you still wondered how cutie would’ve sounded off his lips. 

“well, what do you want me to call you?” of course he’s asking you now. why was he still talking to you? 

“call her cutie-ah, who said that?” rei blurted out, side-eyeing you with slight fear in her eyes. your eyes widened, your cheeks instantly flushing. 

what the fuck was wrong with rei? 

what were you even going to say?

“cutie?” martin questioned, sounding shocked and pleasantly surprised?

“oh no, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” you immediately retorted, shaking your head as you flashed a nervous smile. 

“y/n, didn’t you call him cute-shit!” juhoon asked, yelping when you slapped his arm. these scheming little idiots. you were going to dig their graves first. 

“don’t mind them, please.” 

“oh no, i don’t know what they’re talking about.” you waved your hands in front of you, trying your hardest to stop your lips from quivering. 

oh god. could it get any worse? 

how were you supposed to look at him after this. he had that stupid smile on his lips. that stupid smile that could get him anything he wanted. he was just so charming. he didn’t realise it. 

you grabbed your pencil, scribbling on the canvas like it could make you forget what just happened, your eyes fixed on your drawing. 

martin didn’t say anything more, just let a soft chuckle slip past his lips. then he just watched you, silently. it was exactly what you wanted when he was there with you in the record store. except this time you were a million times more flustered. 

but it was still so nice. 

in that moment, you felt like you were the only thing he wanted to pay attention to. it was just a feeling, you thought. just a feeling. 

you heard rei and juhoon whispering to each other and giggling but you didn’t care. 

it felt like it was just you and martin and to be frank, you didn’t want anything else other than that. 

then, when you already felt like your cheeks were on fire, martin reached out his hand to you, his hand brushing your face as he pushed a strand of hair away. 

where was the awkward boy from the record store? clearly nowhere to be seen. 

you looked at him, your bashfulness written all over your face. you couldn’t even hide it anymore.

“your hair was in the way.” well, no shit, sherlock.

“thanks.” you muttered, turning back to your drawing. he just wanted to make you swoon on purpose. 

well, you were definitely sure now. you for sure had a crush on martin edwards and it was growing fast. 

so fast you didn’t know if you had given up all hope in love anymore.

“HM, I WAS RIGHT, TIN.” juhoon murmured, leaning against the locker beside martin’s. 

“about?” he asked, rummaging through his locker. juhoon scoffed, raising an eyebrow.  

“your girl.”

“she is not my girl.” martin retorted, his tone defensive. his girl. you weren’t his girl but he definitely wanted you to be. 

he couldn’t deny it anymore. he couldn’t deny himself. maybe to the others but not to himself. he very much wanted you. 

“she will be if you lock in.” juhoon tilted his head at him, almost like it was an offer. 

“jju, she doesn’t like me-”

“martin, please spare me that bullshit. have you seen how she looks at you? i’ve known that girl all my life and i’ve never seen her look at a boy like that.” juhoon groaned, slamming martin’s locker shut to look him in his eyes. he seemed pissed.

juhoon was rarely ever pissed. maybe juhoon really was right about you. 

“maybe you don’t know her as well as you thought.”

“or maybe she’s actually falling for you. you may not realise it now, but you will soon.” he looked up at martin with a knowing gaze before walking away. 

“whatever.” martin muttered under his breath, watching juhoon disappear into the crowded hallway. 

martin didn’t want to tell himself that was the truth. that maybe you actually had some kind of feelings for him.  

you were so gorgeous. so pretty. so incredibly sweet and perfect. how would a girl like you ever want a boy like martin? it was like saying two plus two was five. 

he was truly afraid of rejection, mostly because you were the first girl he ever liked but also because you were you. so out of his league. 

but he felt so close to you. and he felt it. the glimmer of something else in your eyes when you looked at him. how you blushed at so many things he did. 

maybe making you fall for him and being your friend could work at the same time. 

and just maybe it was finally the time for him to work his magic.  

“YOU SUCK, JJU.” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder as you moved joysticks with your thumbs. 

the room was filled with sounds of buttons clicking furiously and violent shots being fired swiftly. 

“don’t be a dick, y/n.” juhoon grumbled, rolling his eyes at your words, his eyes still fixed on the screen in front of you. 

“but it’s true.” you smirked, winking at him mockingly. 

“whatever.” juhoon sucked at video games. for years you’ve always been better at them than him. but, his pride never let him admit it. 

then the large victory text appeared in the screen, a smug grin spread across your face as the theme song played. 

juhoon let out a huff, dropping the controller on the pillow beside him as he crossed his arms, a soft pout on his lips. 

“who is going to help you with that history work?” you asked, feigning seriousness. 

“you.” he mumbled softly. 

“treat the boss with respect.” you patted your chest, thumping his forehead. 

“fine.” he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes at you once more. 

“thank you.” you smiled with mock sweetness, grabbing your history books from your bag. 

“so, mars. what’s going on with you two?” of course he was going to mention this. 

you and martin were starting to look like lovebirds at school. at the record store. anywhere you were together, as your friends said. 

you didn’t believe that but they just kept pushing. for two whole weeks, rei and juhoon kept asking you about martin. what you thought of him, if they were anything going on between you two. 

there wasn’t. well, at least you didn’t think so. you texted almost every single day and you were at the record store much more often than you used to. and you were running out of space on your vinyl shelf. 

that wasn’t anything romantic, well not to everyone else. but to you, it meant so much. you felt like someone knew you for the first time in your life. a boy knew you for the first time.  

and your heart was growing bigger and bigger. 

but that didn’t mean martin wanted you. it just meant he wasn’t anything like the boy you first met in the record store. and he was someone that you were starting to care about, more than you should’ve. 

“we’re just friends, i think.” you said, averting your eyes from him. 

“bullshit.” 

“jju-” 

“please just admit to liking him.” juhoon admitted, his tone slightly pleading. why did he want you to admit that so badly? 

“i don’t. we’re just friends. trust me.” you said, trying your hardest to be convincing in the slightest. 

“you suck at lying.” he let out a deep sigh, irritation crossing his features. 

“i’m not lying.” you denied once more, glaring at juhoon. 

“sure and i’ve been to the moon. be honest with yourself.” 

“jju, we’re just friends. and we don’t know each other well enough-”

“i’d beg to differ-”

“-for us to even date. just stop.” you continued, narrowing your eyes at juhoon. 

“fine. i’ll stop, for now.” juhoon said, resignation laced in his tone, muttering the last part under his breath. 

then you looked to juhoon who had that knowing expression on his face. he only looked at you like that when there was more to your words. when you were leaving things out. 

“okay fine, he’s really cute and he’s um… hot too-” you say, slumping your shoulders as you let out a deep breath. 

“and you call yourself the boss. of course you find him cute. i’m a genius, even though i already knew all this stuff,” juhoon interrupted again, a glint of mischief shining in his eyes. “well, maybe martin is the guy for you. like the guy.” 

juhoon was there through it all. through all the text messages, the confessions, the rambles about every boy you’ve found cute. the tears, the heartbreak, the pain. the happiness. he was there. and he always hated seeing you so sad. broken and hopeless. 

but like you believed in true love, juhoon did too. and deep down, he believed that you and martin were meant to be, more than you would ever know, but he wasn’t ever going to tell you how much he wanted to see you two together. well, maybe not now. 

“jju.” you said, staring at him with a piercing gaze. 

“what? maybe he is. have you ever considered that possibility?” he lifts his hands up innocently, his eyes widened. 

“i don’t even want to consider love, you know that. not even stupid crush.” your frown softened at the slightest. yet you felt part of you wondering what it’d be like if martin was your boyfriend. 

“eh, you’re saying this now.” juhoon retorted, barely convinced. 

“jju!” you called out, crossing your arms tightly. 

“hey, don’t get all angry bird on me, girl. i’m right about a lot of things. i’m not called master yoda for nothing.” he murmured, rather cocky. master yoda? well, juhoon was pretty wise. 

“no one calls you master yoda.” you scoffed, narrowing your eyes at him once more. you knew people probably did. but, pride doesn’t like to admit things sometimes like defeat. 

“oh, people do, y/n. and trust me, you’re going to come crawling to me about martin soon.” he rebutted, nodding at you deliberately. 

“whatever floats your boat, jju.” 

“your boat is going to sink.” he chuckled playfully—insulting—as he took his history book out. 

“who is going to walk into class with a terrible excuse for unfinished history work?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow. 

“not me.” he mumbled, his smile instantly fading. 

“what i thought.” you smirked to yourself, opening up your book. 

how long were you going to have to keep your feelings inside? 

and how long were you going to be stuck in your cycle of heartbreak? 

MARTIN HAD THE CONVERSATION PLAYING IN HIS MIND FOR TWENTY MINUTES. how he was going to ask you, what you possibly would’ve have said. well, in every possible conversation he had with himself, in the end you either said no to him or said yes in a way that put him in the friendzone. 

that was just martin. 

he refused to believe you had any kind of feelings for him. not once. even when you smiled at him so sweetly and texted him every single day and walked with him to every single class, he just couldn’t wrap his head around that. 

you liking him. you were too pretty. too kind. too perfect. too you. 

but deep down in his heart, he had hope. hope that maybe his terrible attempts at flirting would make you fall for him one day. that maybe juhoon was right about him having a chance with you. 

but, that hope was buried far away. so far he couldn’t even reach it himself. 

and he intended on keeping it that way. 

“hi, mars. wait, can i call you that?” you beamed—your eyes glimmering with joy—as you leaned against the counter. you looked so happy. happy to see him or happy because you had a good day? you must have had the best day of your life then. 

“yeah, it’s okay, y/n,” he chuckled softly. you were so cute. and he was so whipped. “you’re happy today.” 

“is it that obvious? um, it’s nothing.” nothing? how could it be nothing when you looked like you were fighting off the biggest smile in the world?

“i see. well, i actually wanted to ask you something.” he murmured, his tone slightly serious now. well, here it goes. 

“hm?” you and that little hum. you were going to kill this guy some day. 

“well um would you want to go somewhere?” he asked softly, nervousness creeping onto his face. 

“where?” you asked, gentle and curious in a way that was effortlessly charming, your eyebrows raising on instinct. 

“yes or no?” he replied quickly, like his life wouldn’t go on if you didn’t answer him first. like a no would crush him. it would have. 

“okay, yes.” you agreed, curiosity shining in your eyes. you looked so adorable, the way your big, doll eyes stared back at him. the way your eyelashes brushed your skin. 

this wasn’t apart of the plan. you were supposed to say no, you were supposed to friend zone him. yet you were here, saying yes to him without friend zoning. was he dreaming? 

“really?” he questioned, the shock in his tone barely hidden. 

“yeah, sure. i don’t see why not.” how could you say that so casually like it wasn’t anything at all? like he was asking you the simplest question in the world. you were so unaware of your effect on him.

“oh, well, um. it’s a secret. you’ll just have to trust me.” he said, gentle yet bashful, his heart pounding so hard he thought you could hear it. 

“cheeky, mars,” you smiled, his nickname rolling off your tongue so sweetly. he loved how it sounded off your lips. “well, don’t leave me hanging.” 

martin chuckled once more, walking around the counter to you. “i won’t.” then he grabbed your wrist, tugging you along with him. 

that was bold. to think martin that was the very same guy who got flustered at the mere sight of you had his fingers wrapped around your wrist. 

your skin was so soft, your wrist was so small under his fingers. it was so you.

and you were so blissfully unaware of the turmoil in his mind. 

the emotions waging war on each other. 

the desire to tell you the thoughts and feelings he had of you. 

the irrational fear of your rejection that churned in his stomach from the day he met you. 

the need for this moment to be forever. 

he looked back at you for a fraction of a second, instantly catching a glimpse of your face. that sweet smile. that smile he hadn’t really seen often. 

in the two months of knowing you, truly seeing for who you were, he had barely seen that smile. 

the one that made your eyes crinkle so much you wouldn’t be able to tell if they were there without your eyelashes and the millions of wrinkles. 

the one that made your dimples deepen so much that you could see them from afar. the one that showed all your teeth. 

the one that looked like it hurt in the best way possible. 

he hadn’t memorised that smile. he committed a lot of things about you to his memory but this? it was almost foreign. an expression that no ordinary happiness could amount to. 

an expression that no ordinary person on the street could bring to your face. 

were you smiling that because of him? it wasn’t a possibility he ever wanted to confront himself with. 

he saw that smile three times. three times with just you and him. just you and him. 

it was baffling, really. how anyone could smile so hard just with him around. but you weren’t just anyone. you were y/n, the first girl of his dreams. the first girl he ever felt for. 

and that smile wasn’t just a smile. it was a symbol of a happiness that was irreplaceable. of something so precious that you just couldn’t break it. 

he couldn’t break you. 

not when you’d shown him this side of you. one so vulnerable that guilt would haunt him forever if he did. no. he was going to give you the world. drop everything he had if it meant holding you in his arms just once. that was love. 

to him, really. maybe much less to you. or more.

but this. this was enough for him. more than enough. he had to prove it. it was something he felt compelled to do. only for you would he ever feel such a magnetic pull. 

soon enough you were both at this path. divided in two, one side concrete topped with rocks that’d crackle under your feet, the other blossoming with your favourite flowers. 

the grass so lush green and perfect, the flowers so bright and blooming that they looked like you. the sun warmed your skin, like a comforting hug you didn’t know you needed. he needed that. from you. 

would he ever get that? only god knew. 

“martin-” your voice so soft and slightly breathless he couldn’t tell what you were about to say. “it’s beautiful. it’s just so beautiful. how did you find this place?”

“i don’t tell my secrets, y/n.” he said, with a cheekiness that lacked malice. 

“ugh, martin.” you grumbled with that soft pout, that little whine you gave people when they did something so perfect that kindness couldn’t even show how much it meant to you. 

“what?” he asked, feigning innocence. he knew you loved it. but, part of him wanted you to say you loved him. or liked him at least. 

“you’re so unbelievably sweet.” there it was. your arms wrapped around him. not tight like you hadn’t seen him years but tight like he was the only thing that mattered. tight in a way that was warm. welcoming. 

and he didn’t hesitate to hold you. his hands quickly found their way to your waist like it was muscle memory, his face buried in your hair. 

he didn’t think hugging you would feel this right. the way your hair tickled his skin when the wind blew just right. your face buried so deep in his chest anyone would think you didn’t want to pull away. 

maybe you didn’t. 

you shifted, just enough to look him in his eyes. you looked at the large space of the flowers that seemed to be at peace. just like you two were. 

then your eyes landed right back on him. 

“i’m so lucky to have you, mars.” there was something in your voice that he hadn’t heard before. something so gentle and something else he couldn’t quite find himself being able to pinpoint. 

but the look in your eyes, that sparkle. the sparkle of a girl who felt special and seen. a sparkle of a girl who was sure of herself. 

you didn’t look away and he didn’t say anything. just simply squeezed your waist like it was an answer. 

and for a moment. just a split second, that hope didn’t feel so far away. 

ANOTHER MONTH HAD PASSED YOU BY SINCE YOU VISITED THOSE FLOWERS. ever since that day, you felt something in the air shift. like there was something else more than platonic between you two. 

it was soft. subtle. you couldn’t really see it or feel it but you knew it was there. 

martin wasn’t the awkward boy on the surface of first impressions. he wasn’t just the guy with band tees and the messy handwriting. he also wasn’t just the music geek who seemed to know music from the inside out. 

he was so much more than that. more than any words could ever express. he was a quiet morning where you watched the sun rise. like a breath of fresh air when you feel like you’re suffocating. 

you didn’t realise how much things had changed between you. 

he’d copy all your notes in your shared classes because ‘you summarized them better’ and stole all your pens and gave them back pretending he was your knight in shining armour. 

he’d walk by your side to classes, the air so light with that blissful feeling that youth and teenage years were depicted as in the movies. 

and he would just be there. sometimes in silence, other times with your stomach hurting and your laughter ringing in the air. 

you were closer. so much closer. as friends. but there’d be times where you questioned your friendship. where you questioned his feelings. you wondered if he’d ever want you. and sometimes it felt like he did. 

he’d always touch your hair, talk about how soft it is. it was weird that a friend would do that but really were you even friends? 

you never minded it because you knew your shampoo was working. but soon it became so much more. 

you’d hug each other when you said goodbye. you would hold his hand sometimes, well barely but still. 

sometimes he would call you pretty but say it was a slip of the tongue. deep down you wanted him to mean it. 

but every time you had that inkling that he wanted you, you had to remind yourself that he didn’t. that you were friends. platonic. nothing more. 

and you had to remind yourself of your nature. of who you were. that you didn’t operate with love being part of your system. 

opening your heart wasn’t part of your hardwire. 

but it still hurt. for some reason. 

“okay fine, to all the boys i’ve loved before is peak, it is. there, i said it. but i did not cry.” martin admitted defensively, crossing his arms. you shook your head, leaning against the headboard of his bed. 

“whatever you say, tin. you definitely didn’t cry to all three movies.” you giggled to yourself, a smile spread on your lips as you watched martin’s eyes roll. 

then the giggles died down. your smile faded to this soft curve. your eyes still fixed on his side profile, the sharp curve of his jaw. 

martin turned to you, the room falling into a comfortable silence. he moved a strand of hair away from your face, stroking your hair. 

he always did that. but for some reason this time it felt different. like its intent wasn’t what you always knew it be.  

“have you ever been in love, y/n?” he asked softly, serious. out of the blue.

had you ever been in love? no, you hadn’t. if you were being truthful with yourself, you knew you hadn’t fallen in love. you never felt that feeling for anyone. 

“no, i haven’t.” you said with a sigh. 

“neither have i. i watch cheesy romance movies with you and read cheesy romance books but i’ve never felt it in my heart.” he looked up at his ceiling, letting out a bitter chuckle. 

“it’s funny. i tell myself i’ll be this bold, loving guy who isn’t afraid to love the girl he wants so badly. yet i find myself being so shy around you.” you? was he really saying what he had just said. 

“marti-” you couldn’t let yourself process it. not yet. 

“i care so much about you, y/n. so much. i like you. a lot. so much. you just know how to pull at my heartstrings. and i let go of all my defenses when i’m around you. i want you.” he looked at you again, cupping your cheek. you saw it in his eyes. those feelings he was silently harbouring for you. you didn't know how you didn’t see it. how you weren’t able to see past your self-doubt. and you felt it all rushing in. 

“i like you too, mars. so much. and it scares me.” you whispered like it was a secret. 

“let me take those fears away.” of course he was insisting. he was martin edwards. and he was the boy who wanted you. 

“you can’t, mars. i just-” before you could come up with any excuse for why this wouldn’t work, his lips were on yours. 

of all the kisses you’ve had in your life, nothing compared to this one. it wasn’t desperate nor was it passionate. it was chaste in a way that stopped everything going on around you. 

his kiss was slow and gentle, his lips warm and sweet. his lips seemed to stop every flowing through your mind. it was all rendered down to this. the feeling of his want for you. 

his thumb brushed your cheek, your arms instantly wrapping around his neck. it felt like something out of this world, unreal. this moment was yours, just for you and him. 

and you didn’t want to let go, didn’t want him to stop kissing you. you loved the feelings of his lips on your own. of being the only girl he looks at. you wanted this to be forever. 

but you knew yourself, you knew what love did to you. and you didn’t want to be the one to hurt martin. not when he meant so much to you. 

even if it wrecked you, you didn’t want it to wreck him. he couldn’t hurt the way you did. 

“martin. i can’t. i can’t do this. i just-i want you so much but i can’t do this. i’ll hurt you, i know i will. and i’ll never forgive myself when i do.” you pulled away reluctantly, your voice cracking in the process as you looked anywhere else but in his eyes.

“no, y/n. i don’t care. i’d let you hurt me if meant that i got the chance to be loved by you.” he said, with this silent desperation he had been keeping in for so long, turning your face to him. 

“don’t say that, mars. please don’t.” you shook your head, already feeling the hot liquid in the corners of your eyes threatening to spill over. along with your feelings. 

“no, i will, y/n. you’ll hurt me if you go.” martin’s words, so raw and real. vulnerable. the pain of letting you go in his eyes. the fear. you didn’t want to let go. you didn’t want to leave him. 

but you knew you couldn’t. you couldn’t keep yourself close with the fear of being hurt again. with the fear of hurting the only boy you’d only truly fell for.  

before you knew it, you were kissing him again. 

this time it was passionate, desperate. all the months of yearning, all the weeks are wrestling with your mind and emotions. 

the years of being unsure. you were sure now. 

you wanted martin edwards and you needed him in your life. but he wasn’t supposed to be yours to keep. 

even he claimed he did, even if the whole world told you that you two were meant to be, you would never fully believe that. 

you pulled away, your forehead pressed against his as you caught your breath, shaky. then you let go completely, even when your body was fighting for you to stay in his arms. 

“i’m so sorry, mars. i don’t deserve you.” you apologised, your voice cracking. you got up the second you felt those hot tears on the brink of falling, grabbing your stuff as you darted out his room. 

he ran after you, calling out your name. but you didn’t stop running. you ignored the burning in your legs, the river of tears streaming down your face. you could only think about how much you were hurting martin and yourself. how hopeless you’d be without him. 

he grabbed you by your wrist, spinning you into his arms. his other arm wrapped around your waist, his lips desperately pressing against yours again. you melted into him again, too broken to let go.

then you pulled away, burying your face in his chest, your hands grabbing his shoulders like they could ground you in that moment. 

“i’m so sorry, tin. i just can’t hurt you.” you hugged him, crying harder at the feeling of his gentle touches. how could he still want you while you were hurting him? 

he pulled away, wiping away your tears. 

“i love you. i love you, y/n. you need to know that.” he whispered, his voice cracking softly. he kissed your forehead, wiping away the tears that fell. 

he loved you? he loved you. he loved you. and you didn’t know what to do. what to say. it wasn’t just a simple like. a crush. something that would pass over a few weeks.

it was love, the one thing you didn’t do. couldn’t do.

your eyes continued to blur with tears and the ache in your heart seemed to be so much more unbearable. 

“i’m sorry.” you choked out, letting go of his him reluctantly, slowly. it was the last thing you ever wanted to do. he called out to you again, softer this time yet so broken, but you didn’t turn around. 

your feet kept moving like it was automatic because only god knew how much you would have hurt him if you stayed. 

MARTIN KNEW HEARTBREAK EXISTED. he knew love would hurt, but he didn’t think it’d be then. in that moment. he didn’t think that the moment he knew he was in love with you would also be the moment you pushed him away. 

but he didn’t cry. he just felt this emptiness in his heart. this dull pain. this numbness he couldn’t explain. he was in denial. all he wanted to do was yearn for you. to be yours. he didn’t care how much it would hurt him. he just wanted you. 

he took out his diary, the place that knew his innermost thoughts and dreams better than himself and opened to a fresh page. 

“LET ME BE YOUR FOOL.” he wrote at the top of the page. then everything he wanted and felt was spewing out of him. 

he wrote those words with a heavy heart. with you in his mind fully. with the memories of you fresh in his mind. he wrote them hoping that one day they’d be true. even when there was a large part of his heart that was full of doubt, he didn’t succumb to it. 

even when he’d just come face to face with his biggest fear. 

he didn’t want to sink into the darkness of love because he knew there would be no way out. the darkness didn’t have the answers. nor did it have you. and really, the darkness wasn’t real. the void that told him there was no hope. 

he clung to that hope. to the words you spoke. to the reciprocation of his feelings. even if you hadn’t said you loved him, he somehow could feel just the tiniest bit of it. 

he could only think of that kiss. well, your kisses. the way your eyes didn’t widen but instead closed so calmly. how you let go with him. you weren’t tense. you were just his. for that small fragment of time. 

he let you have him and you let him have you. it was an irreplaceable feeling. only you could make him feel that way. you knew it. he didn’t have to tell you that for you to realise it. 

so why did you have to leave? why did it have to be like this? 

IT WAS ALL YOUR FAULT YET YOU WERE THE ONE CRYING. you didn’t have any right to.

you wanted to call him. you did. you wanted to talk to him. to be with him. you just wanted him. he would’ve held you in his arms, running his hands in your hair telling you that it’s okay. that he wouldn’t leave and that he loved you, over and over. 

you knew he would’ve. maybe not that but something else. all you knew is that he would’ve kept you close and maybe you would’ve stayed. he wouldn’t have stopped until you did. 

and you knew you loved him. you were in love with him. you could feel it. you could say it. even in such a short amount of time it felt so right. but you were running away from it. it felt unbearable. it felt like shit. and you really wanted to break this cycle. 

your finger hovered over the call button, shakily, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. you wondered how he was feeling. if he was crying like you were. if he was angry. if he was going to give up on you. 

but then your phone rang and it was him. 

he wasn’t going to give up, it was martin edwards. you knew him and he didn’t stop until he got what he wanted. 

but you didn’t know what you’d say if you answered. it was better if you didn’t. you watched your phone ring, the caller id through your blurred vision. you felt your heart break even more. why did he make this so hard for you? why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

you placed your phone on your bed, hugging your knees to your chest. you looked at your light pink curtains and remembered that day with martin. 

how he looked at your house like it was a mystery he wanted to solve. how he looked at you like you held all the answers to his problems, like you were the answer. 

you saw the vinyl he gave you, stuck on your wall next to the band poster he bought for you. it was your favourite band. 

you got up, carefully taking it off your wall, switching the record on your record player with that vinyl. you hugged your pillow, staring out your window. then you opened your drawer, taking out some polaroids you took with your camera. some were of you and rei and juhoon, others with you and martin. 

you looked at the one individual picture of martin. he was holding a basketball and you drew a red heart around his head. there was writing on the bottom. “teenboi=loverboi >_<” he wrote that on your polaroid of him and when you asked why, he said there was no reason. you finally knew why. 

then you looked at yours. you knew he wanted to keep yours but he told you to take it anyway.

he drew a heart around your head with no writing. then you turned it around and felt your heart ache even more. 

“wish you’d be mine, pretty girl.” 

but you smiled this time, a small curve on your lips.  because despite the pain you were still able to smile. you wondered how you hadn’t noticed it yet. maybe that’s why he wanted you to keep it. because he wanted you to know that he wanted you. 

you held both polaroids to your chest, pressing your eyes shut. oh, how you wished you’d be his too. 

“i love you too, martin. i’m so sorry.” you whispered to yourself, a soft sigh slipped past your lips as your breathing started to even slightly.  

they were both reminders of how hard it was to stay away. to stay close. you didn’t know what you wanted to do.

but you were going to avoid him. you weren’t going to look at him or go to the record store or talk to him. but you’d still think of him and dream of him because that made it easier. just a little. 

you turned the vinyl, letting it play again. you were going to be doing that for the rest of the night. 

MARTIN DIDN’T SIT NEXT TO YOU IN ART CLASS. he sat at the far back, alone. you sat with rei and juhoon like you did before. but you wouldn’t stop looking back at him. 

and he wouldn’t stop looking at you.

you didn’t have anyone to watch your paintbrush move for an hour. you didn’t have anyone to push your hair away. no one to make you smile to yourself. 

martin couldn’t watch you the way he wanted to. he couldn’t smell the distinct scent of your perfume. only you wore it. 

he couldn’t make stupid jokes and laugh at the way you were so annoyed by them. you were never really annoyed and the both of you knew that. it just wasn’t something you would confront. 

you were avoiding him. he knew you were. but at least he knew that you were doing it because you cared. he smiled to himself, focusing on his painting. 

maybe you weren’t going to say it and maybe you two would never speak again but he knew that part of you wanted him too. even if it was the smallest part of your heart. 

that was the only thing keeping him going. 

“Y/N FUCKING L/N! YOU DID NOT.” rei yelled, looking at you like you killed a dog. you hugged your pillow tighter, curling yourself up. 

“i’m sorry. i just freaked out. i mean he kissed me. like seriously. we were making out and stuff.” you mumbled defensively, looking at rei with sad puppy eyes. 

“if it was a good day i would be so excited about this but you messed up big time. seriously, y/n.” 

as if you weren’t already feeling terrible. now your own best friend was pissed off with you. 

“you know how i am, rei. it’s my nature.”

“but with martin? seriously? you know what jju said. and i can see it too. martin’s in love with you, y/n. i thought you’d have more of a heart than this.” you hadn’t ever seen rei so upset with you. sure you’ve had some arguments and you’ve hurt each others’ feelings before but she seemed so disappointed in you and you felt disappointed in yourself. 

“more of a heart? well i’m sorry that my love life isn’t so picture perfect like yours, rei. i’m sorry i can’t go to martin and tell him that i love him every ten seconds.” oh god. this was beyond your angry bird girl crash outs, this was your breaking point. 

“y/n, that’s not what i meant-”

“no, rei. you listen to me. i try so fucking hard to keep it together. to not fall in the dark when the light is right there. to be in love,” you paused, a lump growing in your throat. “but it’s not easy. it’s not simple and magical like your love is. and i’m so jealous of you. i’m so jealous of everyone that can fall in love. fuck!” your voice cracked, tears streaming down your face like a waterfall. you were breaking down and you weren’t sure if you were going to be able to be put back together this time. 

“y/n. i know that it’s hard. trust me, i do. i’ve watched you break more and more for years and it hurts me too. but have you ever tried to stop yourself? have you ever tried to love someone?” rei asked, taking your hands into hers. had you? no, truthfully speaking. you’ve never truly tried to love anyone. not before. not until you met martin edwards. 

truth be told, you were afraid. extremely. and you don’t want to hurt martin. not at all. he was just too good to you.

you weren’t going to tell rei. or juhoon. not if you hadn’t even told martin yourself. not if you didn’t even know what to do with your life anymore. 

“yes.”

“don’t lie to me. you know you haven’t, y/n-”

“so fucking what, rei? what’s your point? that i can change my ways overnight because martin said he loved me? oh, please. like i haven’t heard that line before.” you were gone. and this dark part of you was replacing you. a part of you that you never wanted to face. 

“what the hell is going on with you, y/n? genuinely. i’ve seen so many sides of you but not this one.” what was going on with you? you were acting like a total bitch. 

but rei was too kind to say that to you and the both of you knew that deep down. but you had too much pride and you were just so hurt. 

“maybe you don’t know me like you thought you did.”

“i’m your best friend, y/n. i know you’re scared and i know you’re hurt bu-”

“you know nothing, rei. get out.”

“y/n, just list-”

“get out!” you yelled, pointing to your door. rei opened her mouth then closed it, staring at you one last time with hurt in her eyes before walking out your bedroom. 

you shut the door after her, slumping down into the ground as you cried again. you were sobbing, pathetically. and for the first time, you really didn’t know what you wanted to do. 

you lost martin and now you lost one of your best friends. and you were a monster. an evil one. 

and you were starting to think that leaving martin was making you do things you’d regret instead of staying. 

“MARTIN, I KNOW YOU, WE ALL KNOW YOU. you don’t just give up like this. you’re martin edwards, you’re a fighter.” keonho said, with this determined tone that seemed to be an attempt to hype him up but instead made it worse. 

martin was a fighter, he had always been one but it just felt so hopeless. it was you, the prettiest girl he had ever seen. and it was him. 

you two didn’t make sense. you were all bubbly and lovable and he was all awkward and just “him.” martin never felt worthy of you. of your love, your time, your attention. every second spent with you was just mere kindness. nothing more. it wasn’t real to you, clearly. 

maybe last second you realised that it was a mistake. that giving martin of all people a chance was a stupid decision. maybe you couldn’t think of him that way at all and avoiding him after that kiss was his answer. 

so yes, martin edwards was a fighter but he couldn’t fight for you because that would be fighting for something he’d never have. 

“i know that.” he murmured, hushed and defeated. and pathetic too. seriously pathetic. 

“so why aren’t you fighting, dude? do we have to write it out for you or something?” james scoffed, spinning in martin’s chair to face him.

“it still wouldn’t make sense.” 

“what is there to not make sense of? martin, she wants you. seriously! can’t you see that?” juhoon sprang up from the edge of martin’s bed, running an exasperated hand through his hair. juhoon of all people would be pissed, he knew both sides. sort of. 

“she wouldn’t disappear on me if she did.” and of course martin had to find a reason for why you couldn’t possibly have feelings for him. 

“you’re disappearing on her too and you love her.” seonghyeon muttered, throwing a basketball against a wall repeatedly. 

“i’m not disappearing on her. i’m just done trying. i don’t know what to do.” 

“well, tin, how about for starters you lock the fuck in and tell her you love her.” keonho grumbled, walking over to martin to grab his collar. 

“i already did that.”

“do it again. and again, and again until she believes it. and until she says it back because she will, tin. she will.” keonho retorted like he was the one in love with him, yanking martin. 

“no, she won’t. she never will. she’ll never like me or even love for that matter.”

“martin, until you’ve dealt with your bullshit and get it together, don’t talk to us. seriously.” keonho let go of his collar, letting him fall against his headboard. his friends all got up, walking to his door. 

“and also, do not ask us for anything until you two are dating.” they all looked at him one last time before walking out his door. he didn’t bother to call them back or anything. he watched them go, he let them go. just like how he let you go. 

maybe martin wasn’t the fighter he always made himself out to be. maybe he was really just weak on the inside and he just needed something to prove that. this was all the proof he needed and he lost you and his friends all at once with it. how great!

no lover boy martin for anyone.

IT HAD BEEN TWO WEEKS SINCE THAT KISS. since the day that the both of you decided that you were going to be idiots. and for some reason it hurt your friends more than it hurt either of you. 

but really, it made sense. you walked the halls alone every single day and the light that was always in your eyes had vanished. rei wouldn’t catch you at your lockers once and when she did, which was basically once in a blue moon, you’d avoid her like the plague. 

you sat alone at lunch at a table in a far corner, doomscrolling to pass the time instead of sitting at the same very table you’d ramble with your best friends. 

and you looked horrible too. you looked cold, unreadable. you were gone. the usual infectious happiness you carried nowhere to be seen, the pain in your cheeks you’d always feel when you smiled a forgotten feeling. 

you couldn’t remember what it was like to be happy. to feel your heart filled with warmth and love. and it was all because you. the fear of being in love. you never understood it. 

how you could be so afraid of something that you wanted to consume you whole? you wanted love, more than anything, but you somehow managed to royally screw it all up without fail. and you didn’t know how to fix it. 

you could feel your friends’ eyes on you at lunch. how their sad eyes drilled holes into your head. you’d look at them too when they weren’t paying attention. they seemed to be just as heartbroken as you were. 

you wouldn’t let them say a word to you when really all you wanted to do was talk. to let it all out. you didn’t deserve any of them. 

martin wasn’t any better. he couldn’t hang out with his friends. he couldn’t help at the record store with a smile on his face. he couldn’t listen to music. the one thing that kept him going couldn’t do that anymore because in everything you were there. somehow you managed to never fully be out of his life. his fault for dedicating so many things to you. 

he couldn’t function without you. he loved you that much. you said you didn’t deserve his love yet he felt like he didn’t deserve yours. 

it was stupid. really stupid. and really pathetic. but you didn’t care about that anymore. he didn’t care about that anymore. you could only care about what could have been. 

“jju, spill. right now. why is that idiot doing absolutely nothing?” rei commanded, crossing her arms with a small frown. 

“well, how about you ‘spill.’ why isn’t y/n doing anything? why is she avoiding him? i thought you promised to not let this happen.” juhoon retorted, crossing his arms with the same frown on his face, tilting his head as he widened his eyes. rei rolled her eyes, scoffing. 

“fine, i deserve that, but she’s extremely unpredictable. and you know how she is, jju. she repels love like water and oil. and she just hates letting go of her fears.” rei whined defensively, pushing her hair behind her ear irritably. 

“i know, but martin thinks it’s all his fault. he’s so hellbent on believing that she doesn’t want him too, ugh! at this rate, i’m going to have to drag y/n to him just for her to say she wants him too.” juhoon let out an aggravated groan, burying his face in his hands. 

“wait, what does martin say about her?” rei’s eyebrows shot up, her curiosity instantly piqued. rei has always been the one for tea and drama. 

“dude, you don’t even understand. he’s like obsessed with her. he says all this lovey dovey shit about her being so perfect and cute and pretty, blah, blah, blah. yuck!” juhoon grimaced, gagging dramatically as he pressed his eyes shut. 

“okay, that is not yuck, that is like so lover boy and i love it!” rei giggled, resting her cheeks in her palms as she batted her lashes. 

“well you have a boyfriend for a reason.” he said under his breath, crinkling his nose. 

“and you’re single for a reason.” she rebutted, sticking her tongue out at him mockingly. 

“and you sound like a cheesy freak for a reason too.” 

“stop that! we have to fix this for y/n and martin because they won’t. i’ll have to talk to him and convince him myself. he’ll believe me.” she shoved his arm, causing him to flinch. 

“hey!”

“what? i hang out with her more, obviously he’s going to believe my word over yours. and plus, i’ll get the lover boy deets too.” she feigned innocence, smirking smugly at the end. 

“fine, fair point. i’ll talk to her. and i’ll make sure she doesn’t run away, rei.” juhoon said mockingly, shoving his face in rei’s space. 

“i’ll kill you, jju.” rei muttered through gritted teeth, staring at juhoon with a death glare.  

“love you too.” he smiled, patting rei’s shoulder. 

rei and juhoon were always better at love than you were. they seemed to know exactly what to say and exactly what to do at any given moment. you always admired that. 

but all you wanted was to disappear in the void that you created. the place where you buried yourself in your self-inflicted pain. and you wanted martin to pull you out of it and keep you in his arms where you’d never, ever escape. 

and rei and juhoon had the perfect plan to make that happen. you both just had to abide by it. 

MARTIN WAS THE EPITOME OF LOST. he had no idea what to do about you and him. he had no idea how you were feeling. but, somehow the one person that held all the answers appeared in front of him like a genie. 

“so, edwards,” rei said, staring at martin with narrowed eyes.

“yes.” martin whispered slowly, raising an eyebrow. 

“you are a lover boy, i am aware. and you need your lover girl back pronto. so, i am here to be your lovely godmother. and i better be the godmother of you and y/n’s kids too.” rei slapped her hand to the table, causing martin to flinch at the loud clatter, his eyes wide and surprised. 

“kids? rei, is everything in your life straight out a romance movie?” he gasped, tilting his head at rei like she was crazy. well, everyone was starting to think that she was crazy. 

“sort of. i like to call my life a rom-com though. i even have a name for it, you know? it’s-” she giggled, tapping her index finger to her chin.

“please get to the point.” martin interrupted with a huff, digging his elbows into the table. 

“um, rude much. i’m here to be your fairy godmother and you’re not appreciating my services.” rei scoffed, slurping her boba with a big, childish frown. martin almost laughed but that would mean no love for him. 

“well, how about you put your services to use.” he suggested, rolling his eyes. rei gasped at him, slapping a hand to her chest dramatically. 

“ugh, you’re just as sassy as jju is. okay, first, spill the tea.” 

“the tea?” martin asked, tilting his head in confusion. 

“the tea.” rei nodded, sipping her boba again. martin slumped back into his chair, crossing his arms. 

the tea. martin was an absolute goner. and he loved you so, so much. and he really needed you back in his life or he wouldn’t be able to live right. and he also knew that he barely had a chance with you and your sanity was hanging by a strand, all because of him. 

“well, i’m madly in love with your best friend.”

“and?” 

“she’s gorgeous.”

“and?”

“she makes me really happy.”

“and? dude! be serious. when i say spill, i mean spill. so spill! spill it all, i’ll mop it up i promise.” rei pleaded desperately, slapping both her hands to the table, rattling everything on it. 

“calm down, calm down. i will,” martin chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “okay, y/n’s perfect. really perfect. she has a heart of gold and she’s so pretty. she has extremely soft hair and she smells really nice.”

“okay, dude. that’s like basic shit. please get to the good stuff, my heart needs warming!” she demanded, making a heart with her hands as she pouted. 

“fine! i love her so much. i love how she makes me feel, how funny her really dumb jokes sound. how adorable she is when happy and flustered.” martin sighed, staring out the window. well, he was pouring his heart out now. he was like a waterfall, his words spilling out of him with no end. 

“she reads me like nobody else does and sees me for who i really am. and i hope she loves me for it. i’m so irrevocably in love with your best friend.”

“oh my, jju was not kidding.” rei’s eyes glimmered, a wide cheshire grin spread across her lips. lover boys were rei’s speciality and she absolutely loved all the cheese. 

“not kidding about what?” martin questioned, a suspicious frown crossing his features. rei perked up, her eyes darting all over the room. 

“oh, nothing! anywho, you’re crazy for her and I’m going to make sure that you two end up growing old together.” she exclaimed, high-pitched and nervous, scratching her neck. 

“you’re a bigger dreamer than i am.” 

“eh, you like my dreams though.” 

“true. just save me, please.” martin begged, gentle and desperate. 

“well, you didn’t hear any of this from me but y/n is really bad with love. she avoids it when it gets too much at all costs,” rei murmured, letting out a sad sigh. 

“she’s a lover just like you are but she’s just been so hurt for so long that she escapes it when it gets too real to hide from the pain. to “save herself early on.” but honestly it’s quite sad.” you never really wanted to listen. to the people who told you that they loved you. the boys who told you that they loved you. it never really stuck. and you never felt it. but for the first time you felt it with martin and rei knew that. 

she could see it in martin’s eyes that he loved you. but she didn’t know if you wanted to listen this time. if all this was worth anything to you. but she wanted it to mean the world to you more than anything because you deserved everything that martin was willing to give. 

“why didn’t she tell me?” he asked softly, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. 

“she’s too scared to be vulnerable. maybe she would have eventually. but i don’t think she would have knowing how much she cares about you.” 

“but i would have understood. i would have tried to help her-”

“it’s not that easy, martin. y/n is lost. you’re the only light at the end of her tunnel but she doesn’t want to follow it because she’s scared of what’s beyond it.” rei interrupted, leaning forward to look him in his eyes. 

“i just want to love her. i want her more than anything i’ve ever wanted in my life.”

“trust me, she knows that. she’s afraid to hurt you. she thinks she doesn't deserve you. in my opinion, you guys are like the power couple so i disagree.” rei shrugged her shoulders, a small smile playing on her lips. martin smiled at that as well, a sad smile. 

“well, i’m glad you feel that way but it doesn’t mean anything if she doesn’t feel that way too.” he muttered wistfully, looking down at his hands. 

“she’ll come around, i promise. jju has a way of getting through to her. to a lot of people actually. just know that she cares about you so much.” rei grabbed his hands, looking up at him. rei certainly had her own way of getting through to people too. 

“i know. i just need to feel it. and to hear it.”

“you will. i promise. you just need to get the balls to talk to her,” rei let go of his hands, grabbing her boba as she got up from her seat. “now, i have to make sure that jju has not screwed anything up and you have to make sure that you don’t screw anything up.” 

martin sat there alone, in his thoughts. he wanted to write about you again. that, and all the memories of you he had, were the closest things to having you. maybe they’d forever be the only way he’d have you in his life. 

only he could change that. 

YOU WERE IMMERSED IN A BOOK. a stupid romance novel “surprisingly.” you felt numb. a dull ache inside your heart. you just felt like a grey area, like there was nothing around you or inside. it had never gotten this bad.

you just felt empty. like something was missing. your friends were missing, you pushed them away. martin was missing, you pushed him away too. that was something you were really good at. would you even be good at love? 

you heard a knock on your door, the sudden thud interrupting your thoughts. at least something was bringing you out of your pathetic cloud of misery. 

you twisted the knob of your door slowly, seeing juhoon at your doorstep. you let out a relieved sigh, letting yourself fall into his arms. and you also let your river of tears fall too.

“oh, bunny.” he breathed, his arms instantly enveloping you. him and stupid nickname. he had been calling you that for years, especially when all you needed was comfort.

the one thing you’ve always loved about him was how he made it so easy for you to be yourself. you couldn’t hide when it was him. 

“i miss him so much. i screwed him over and he probably hates my guts right now. who wouldn’t hate my guts right now?” you sobbed in his chest, gripping his shirt tightly with shaking hands. 

“i don’t hate your guts right now, rei doesn’t either. and mars most definitely doesn’t hate you.”

“how can you be so sure? i’m horrible.”

“it’s martin. he doesn’t hate you. he loves you. he told you that, didn’t he?” juhoon whispered gently, lifting your head out his chest. he wiped your tears, squeezing your shoulders.

“how do you not have a girlfriend, jju?” you asked, your voice cracking as you sniffled. 

“well, i’m uh, working towards that but this is not about me, it’s about you.” he chuckled nervously, letting his arms drop to his sides. 

“kim juhoon, you are hiding things from me!” you gasped, slapping his arm. he grabbed your hand, pushing it away, running up your stairs as you chased after him. 

“you did too! and you’re going to open up to me today, okay? i’ll get you boba and extra croissants, okay? you just tell me how you feel.” he yelped, gripping your headboard fearfully. you rolled your eyes, smiling softly. 

“fine, fine. but after that you have to tell me about your love life.” you say, crawling onto your bed. juhoon watched you carefully for a few moments, sitting next to you when he believed it was safe. 

“ugh, why did i say that?” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.  

“because i’m your best friend.”

“i know. now, best friend, tell me what’s on your mind.” he turned his head to you, waiting for your next words. well, now you couldn’t escape your feelings. it was all going to crash in again. 

“i’m a mess. and i feel like an evil bitch.” the tears were streaming down your cheeks again, your shoulders shaking. here we go again. 

“woah, woah. you’re not um evil or a bitch.” juhoon said as he shook his head, widening his eyes. 

“then what am i? because i can’t think of anything else. i broke his heart, jju. i am evil.” you lifted your face out your hands, looking around with your eyes blurry with tears. 

“you’re not evil, you’re just hurt.” he muttered, wiping a tear off your face. 

“martin’s hurt but he’s not being a dick.” you crossed your arms, slumping against your headboard as you stared at the picture of you and him. he wouldn’t ever be a dick to you. 

“you just handle things differently-”

“stop pitying me! just be honest with me.” you snapped, balling your fingers into tight fists with a loud “ugh!” 

“i am, bunny. i am being honest. you just want to believe that you’re not worthy of love or being treated right because that’s all you’ve gone through.” juhoon said, a hushed admission, a stark contrast to the broken cries that left your lips. 

“i hate you.” you mumbled, looking away from him. 

“your ego hates me.”

“shut up.” 

“no, i won’t. you are going to tell mars that you love him because you know that you do.” he placed a hand on your shoulder, making you face him. 

“i don’t.”

“then why is that song he picked for you still on your record player? and why are your polaroids of him on your nightstand. i wasn’t born last night, y/n.” juhoon had an eyebrow raised, almost like he was ridiculing you. 

“ugh, you won’t let me have anything.” 

“i want you to have everything, bunny. you deserve it, i promise. you deserve him. he doesn’t think that he deserves you.” juhoon said, tender and careful, taking his hands in yours. you looked at him, the sincerity in his eyes so hard to ignore. 

“what? is he an idiot or something?” you yelled right in juhoon’s ear, causing him to grab it in pain. 

“yes, he is. but, he should be your idiot. so snap out of whatever this is and let him have you. please.” you hated how much you wanted to blush at that. your idiot. was that even possible?

“but i hurt him.” 

“you’re hurting him more by avoiding him. especially because the both of you love each other.” 

“i didn’t tell him. he doesn’t know that.” you whispered, taking the picture of you with the writing on the back, reading the words on it. juhoon read them too, flashing you a sad smile. 

“so maybe now’s the time.”

“okay. i’ll listen to you.”

“finally.” he sighed, opening his arms for a hug. you smiled, hugging him back. 

“thank you, jju.”

“anytime, bunny.” he patted your head, resting his head on top of yours. you pulled your head out his chest, looking up at him with a sly grin. juhoon groaned, already knowing what you were about to ask. 

“fine, i’ll tell you.” 

“that’s what i thought. now, spill the deets, right now!” you commanded, resting your elbows on your knees. 

“you’re just as demanding as rei is.” juhoon rolled his eyes, hugging his knees to his chest. 

“she gets it from the best.” 

you couldn’t really stay sad anymore. you couldn’t mope around when you had your best friend. you’d just have to deal with your feelings another time. 

and maybe that would mean you would be martin’s girl. 

THE RECORD STORE WAS LONG CLOSED, martin alone with his thoughts and the sunset. it reminded him of the “date” you had. he always pretended in his head that it was a date. he wondered if you felt the same. 

he kept a folded paper inside the third drawer to the right, it had been there for weeks. he kept it there for a special day. 

“to the prettiest girl, y/n,” it wrote on the back, some writing on the inside. it was a love letter to you. he was waiting for the day he could call you his to give you that letter.

for a while, it was hard for him to not pull it out of that drawer and give it to you. he’d see your pretty face and your pretty eyes golden in the sun rays and wish he had the guts to tell you how he felt. 

today was one of those days. 

he thought of all the diary entries he wrote for you. he had probably written in more than half of that diary about you alone. 

he thought about you. your smile. that gorgeous smile. that kiss. the way you looked at him like he was the only person worth staying for. like he was truly your knight in shining armour. 

he looked at the polaroid he had of you. it was the day you saw the lilies. you were hiding your face behind a huge one, that smile he barely saw plastered across his face.

he looked at that picture every day. he read that letter every night. he read those diary entries every time he needed reminders of how much he needed you. 

only he could bring you back. people could repeat the same lines over and over but at the end of the day, it was up to him. 

he looked at that polaroid he had of you again, seeing the crinkle of your eyes. that happiness. all because of him. that made him hopeful. 

maybe now he was ready to try again. 

YOU FOUND YOURSELF AT THE FIELD OF LILIES. it had been so long. the morning air kissed your skin, the sun just barely peaking from the horizon as if it were playing hide and seek. 

you walked to those flowers, really close, your fingertips just barely touching the softness of the petals, testing how they felt underneath your fingers. 

just being there made everything lighter. 

for weeks the next day wasn’t something you could predict. another day was another feeling. just a night where you lay awake, feeling the ghost of his touching haunting you. just another hour spent you listening to songs he saw you in just to make him seem a little closer. 

it was as if martin was infused in your mind. his words ingrained in your heart. his very presence something you found yourself craving more than you would like to admit. 

you wondered off sometimes, asking yourself how you could have been so selfish. you wondered if he would’ve been holding you right then in that moment if you had just let yourself go completely. 

you carefully picked a flower, a hushed rip following the disconnection. you wondered if you and martin were like this flower. 

something that grows for so long into something to beautiful. something that people love. just to die down after one part is severed from the other, never being connected again. never alive again. 

but then you looked down at the petals once more, at the warm shadows cast on them. the dots, the gorgeous pink. even though it would die, it was still beautiful. it never lost its beauty. that’s what it lived for. 

then you looked up at the whole field and realised that it would bloom again. not in that very place but just somewhere. again and again and again. 

one death didn’t mean all death. it was simply an inevitable result. 

you couldn’t escape it if you wanted to. you wanted to. you asked yourself again. you just didn’t want to stop escaping it. running was easier when you weren’t focused on the life ahead. at least in that very moment. 

yet you found yourself wishing that you had a second chance with martin. right here. your love blooming once more like a flower replacing a dead one. a shadow of the troubled girl ready to leave her past behind. that bloom a beginning of a new life with love. 

“i hope i’m not interrupting anything.” you heard a familiar voice say, the voice you had almost forgotten. it was the man of the hour. all you wanted was to melt into him. 

you turned around, seeing his tall frame moving closer and closer until he stopped in front of you, a safe distance. not too far, not too close. not close enough. 

for a moment, that awkward boy was shining through. the way he bounced from foot to foot, how tense his shoulders were as his hands shoved deep into his pockets. 

“you aren’t interrupting, mars. i um, it’s good to see you.” you said so softly like it was a secret being whispered, something that you only wanted him to know. that stupid hair and those stupid band shirts. he was so effortlessly attractive. so effortlessly him.

you watched how his shoulders slumped slightly at the sound of the nickname. how he let out a soft breath he wasn’t aware he was holding at the sight of the gentleness on your face. he had been needing that. 

“i was hoping you’d say that. i missed you. a lot.” he murmured, standing closer to you. his cologne filled your nostrils, a scent you missed too. you felt your heart do that thing. that skip. 

“i missed you too, mars.” 

“do you want to talk? and um, hang out? it’s not a date, i promise. i just want to be with you for a little while.” he asked nervously, staring at you with those hopeful eyes he always gave you.  

“i know, it’s not what i think it is, or what you think it is. yeah. yeah, i want to talk.” you giggled softly, staring down at your feet. 

“thank you, y/n.” he said, sincere and something else you hadn’t heard in a while.

“you don’t need to thank me.” he didn’t. it was just talking to you. if anything, you should have been thanking him for giving you a chance to talk.

for not looking at you like the girl that broke his heart but the girl he loves. 

the rocks crackled under the soles of your shoes, the hushed sound so loud in the silence. it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was heavy with the need to tell him that you loved him. heavy with the want to be his. 

all you could think about were the words you wanted to say. the distance between you that you wanted to close but weren’t sure if you could. he missed you though. he wanted to walk with you. you couldn’t pretend that he didn’t care. 

he stopped in his tracks. not abrupt, just deliberate. 

then he turned to you completely. quiet. nothing but that love you’ve always known in his eyes. stronger though. more raw. pure. 

it was just the two of you. 

if you listened well enough, you could hear faint chirping of birds far away. it was just your breathing, the calm, steady beating of your heart. 

“i really wanted to believe it was my fault.” he uttered suddenly, looking at you like you were a puzzle to solve. 

“it wasn’t, mars-” 

“i know that. but it was better than realising how shitty it really was.” 

“i’m so sorry-”

“don’t apologise for who you are. i know you still feel something. i can see it in your eyes every time you look at me.” he took a step closer, a walk into your space and heart. 

then a beat of silence. 

“i think of you all the time.” just that. so simple. yet you felt all his love for you. just how deep it really was. 

“mars-”

“of your voice, your hair. your eyes. i really like your eyes. your tiny hands, how short you are. your really good hugs. your smile. god, i love your smile.” he smiled softly, stopping a breath away from you. he towered over you like he was shielding you from the world around you. 

“i-” 

“mm-mm, don’t say anything. i don’t want to hear it. just listen to why i love you,” he whispered, slowly placing his hands on your face. calculated. his thumbs brushing the bags beneath your eyes. 

“you’re always on my mind and i always see things that make me think of you. things i’d show you that would make you smile or laugh. but i haven’t been able to show you or love you.” his hands were warm on your skin, his words a soothing balm to your heart. he had this pull that made it hard to let go. 

this unfiltered want for you. the kind of yearning you didn’t think was possible. 

“it wasn’t your fault.” you looked up at him, finally, shaking your head. 

“i know but i put you on the spot. i didn’t let you find the words you really wanted to say. it was my fault, sort of.” he leaned his forehead against yours, one hand slipping down your neck to rest on the curve where it met your shoulder. 

“martin, there was so much i wanted to say to you. i just couldn’t say it and i want to say it all to you now.” you breathed out, your eyes closed as you let the love within you consume you whole. 

“tell me.” simple once again. soft. yet you could hear that desperation. 

“i love how you make me smile, how you make it all so easy. how i don’t have to hide with you. i love your stupid band shirts and the way you look at me and how you make me feel so special. i love you. only you.” you admitted, a faint promise of love, your touch on his face so placid it didn’t feel real.

“you really don’t know how long i’ve wanted you to say all that, y/n. i love you so much.” martin murmured, his lips brushing your cheek. 

“you’re really cute.” you whispered, pulling away to smile at him. that smile you barely showed. fourth time. and he knew it was for him. 

“what?” he raised his eyebrow, his thumb freezing on your cheek. you giggled, repeating yourself.  

“you’re really cute. and hot.” 

“i thought you said you didn’t mean it like that the first time.” martin teased, poking your nose. you smiled, your eyes crinkling even more. 

“to be honest with you, i did. and i do now.” 

“well, you’re really cute too, y/n. and pretty.” he smiled back at you, pulling you closer to him until your foreheads bumped. 

then he kissed you, his hand letting go of your face wrap around your waist instead. your smile widened against his lips, your arms slung around his neck. 

this kiss felt better than the first. and the second. you felt freer, happier. loved. all kinds of things. like fireworks just went off in your heart. like butterflies were fluttering in your stomach. like you were his. 

he pulled away, staring at you with that adorable, boyish grin.

“can that be our first kiss?”

“but the first two were really nice.” you whined faintly, pouting slightly.

“well you were bawling your eyes out right after.” 

“mm, well i think about it every day so?” you stared at him through your lashes, batting them hopefully. 

“ok, fine, only cause it’s you,” he sighed reluctantly, his thumbs brushing over your hip bones. “so, are you my girl now?” he asked, looking up at you with those wide, hopeful eyes. you nodded, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. he whisper-shouted a “yes!” earning a giggle from you. 

“my cute girl. i’m going to call you all the petnames in the world, baby.” he pulled away, lacing your fingers as he spun you around. 

“mars!” you giggled, grabbing his shoulder.

“who is mars? last time i checked i go by baby.” he raised an eyebrow. you kissed his lips, causing him to smile against yours. 

“someone’s excited?” you teased, chuckling at him. 

“well yes, the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen is my girlfriend. let me get excited.”

“fine, baby.” you said, batting your eyelashes at him. he smirked at you, squeezing your hand gently. he looked so hot. those eyes full of love, his stupid band tee. that stupid boyish grin. 

“the big leagues are calling my name, mamas. the boys will not believe this.” he shifted, his arms wrapped around your waist and his head nuzzled in your neck. 

“you sure? if anything i think they’ve been waiting for this moment too.”

“not as much as me. i am like the luckiest guy alive right now.”

“and i’m the luckiest girl alive.” you stroked his hair, a sweet whisper in his ear. 

“of course,” he pulled away, winked at you cockily, blowing you a kiss. then he reached down into his pocket, giving you a picture of yourself that you didn’t recognise. “that’s gold right there.” 

“when did you take that?” you gasped, staring at the picture of you. you couldn’t help but smile at how martin was staring at you. with a look in his eyes that made you think the most special thing in his life. you probably were. 

“when you were inhaling the nectar out of those lilies. you were paying zero attention to me, mamas.” he smiled, cradling your head in his chest. 

“i was smelling them, okay! they were so sweet.” you whined defensively, glaring at him. 

“not as sweet as me. you looked really pretty here. my gorgeous girl.” he said, raking his fingers through your hair. 

“overly sappy, bro. lock in.” you scrunched your nose, pressing your lips together as you shook your head at him. 

“there’s more where that came from, mamas. and call me baby not bro. i smell way better than those lilies.” 

“you do, baby. i was mostly hiding my blush from you because it was really embarrassing.”

“your blush is really cute, babe.” he said sincerely, brushing some hair out of your face. you felt your cheeks burning cherry red, instantly burying your head further into his chest. but martin didn’t let you hide, lifting your head out his chest. 

“it’s so not.” you denied, shaking your head once more. 

“so is.” he assured, holding your face in his hands to see just how adorable you looked, kissing the top of your head. 

“ugh, whatever.”

“you know, you owe me a big one for almost shattering my heart to pieces.” he had a cheeky grin on his lips, tapping his chin with his index finger as he pretended to think about it. 

“what do you want?” you groaned, narrowing your eyes. 

“this.” before you could process his words, he was cupping your cheeks, attacking your face with sweet pecks all over. you were a giggling mess, squealing and grabbing his arms. 

“there. so much better.” he pulled away, seeing your adorable face squished in his hands. you felt that familiar ache in your cheeks from all the smiling, nuzzling your head in his chest. 

“you’re welcome, you idiot.” you mumbled into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him like a koala. 

“mm, thank you, babe.” he stroked your hair, one hand holding your head against him, the other grabbing your waist. 

“you owe me for stealing my bracelet. i looked everywhere for it like a headless chicken.” you muttered, poking his side.

“it suits me more. plus, people will know i’m yours now.” he laughed, poking your side as well. 

“you’re lucky i have another.” you looked up at him, kissing the corner of his mouth. then he nuzzled your head in his chest again. 

“even better, mamas.” 

this was all that you wanted. to be in his arms, to tell him that you loved him and so much more. to be his. you had it all, at last. he was yours, at last. 

WALKING TO CLASS FELT DIFFERENT. well, obviously, you were holding martin’s hand. yes, it felt different. but it felt different in another way. like you belonged to your high-school society.

you didn’t feel like an outsider anymore. you didn’t have to look at couples and feel left out anymore. you could just look up at your sweet boy and remind yourself how lucky you were. 

you were especially excited that day though. you had a whole day of classes with martin and also a whole day of classes with both of your best friends. that meant finally telling them about you two. 

you didn't tell rei or juhoon when you and martin got together. you actually managed to keep it a secret for two weeks then the suspicions began to creep in. that was a new record for keeping secrets. but you decided to be bold today, holding martin’s hand in the halls, calling him baby out loud in front of everyone. 

it’s not that you were ashamed, you just wanted it to be a surprise. 

“surprise!” you and martin exclaimed in unison, wiggling your hands with big grins. rei and juhoon stared at the both of you with blank expressions, almost like they didn’t see what exactly the surprise was. 

you and martin looked at each other with confused expressions, interlocking your fingers instead this time. 

“surprise!” you exclaimed again, wiggling your free hands and your interlocked hands. rei and juhoon looked at each other then back at the both of you, their expressions unwavering. you and martin lowered your hands down in embarrassment, looking down at your feet awkwardly. 

“what’s the surprise?” rei asked, staring at you dully. you frowned, looking at martin then at the both of them like you couldn’t understand why she was so unsurprised. why the both of them were so unsurprised. 

“us being together, idiot.” 

“we knew that already.” juhoon replied, leaning back in his chair with crossed arms. did you accidentally let those words tumble out your mouth without realising it?

“what?” you and martin both blurted out loudly, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“do you think we’re stupid? we saw how close you have been lately and martin’s wearing your bracelet, y/n.” juhoon pointed to martin’s wrist as he explained himself, shaking his head in disappointment.  

“you don’t even hide it on your insta either. that soft launch was basically a hard launch. and you tag each other in your cheesy reposts.” rei huffed, her eyebrow raised as she let out a big sigh. 

“to you it was.” you mumbled like a baby, glaring down at your hands. 

“i think everyone knew before the both of you did.” 

“ugh, can you just celebrate with us?” you whined, scowling at them with a deep frown. 

“yay!” juhoon and rei exclaimed in unison, wiggling their hands just like how you and martin did. except this time it felt more mocking than celebrating. 

martin smiled at your pout, poking your cheek. 

“you’re cute when you’re angry.” 

“shut up.” you spat, glaring at him too. he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your temple, his lips curling against your skin.  

“aww!” rei and juhoon both giggled, resting their faces in their palms as they batted their eyelashes at you. you rolled your eyes but felt a smile twitching at the corners of your lips. 

“see, you’re cute.” you hated how much you couldn’t stay mad at him. why’d he have to be so perfect? 

“you’re lucky i can’t stay mad at you.” 

“well, lovebirds, we’ll leave you to it. but, we have eyes everywhere.” rei and juhoon got up from the table as they heard the bell ring, walking away to their seats with smug grins. 

“on that note, i have a surprise for you, babe. maybe it’ll turn that frown upside down?” he asked cautiously, pulling a folded up piece of paper from his bag and handed it to you. 

you unfolded it to see a bunch of paragraphs with a tiny little heart and his name at the end. a love letter. he wrote you a love letter. it was from so long ago, so cute and so sappy. 

“baby! you’re so sweet. like the sweetest! how did you manage to hide it from me?” you bubbled, looking at him with wide eyes. 

“you’re not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed.”

“you did not!” you instantly slapped his arm before he could dodge it. he winced, rubbing the spot you hit. 

“i’m sorry, babe, it’s true!” martin whined apologetically, grabbing your hand. 

“okay, fine. but you’re supposed to be complimenting me.” you murmured as you rested your cheek on your palm. martin smiled once more, kissing your cheek. 

“okay, your lack of attentiveness is adorable.” 

“you say everything is adorable.” you complain, letting out a huff as your eyebrows knitted together. 

“because it is. you’re adorable.” he admitted, caressing your cheek. you couldn’t help but smile at his words. of course he found everything about you cute. he was martin edwards. 

“okay, fine.” you gave in at last and it felt really nice. 

“compliment me.” he said, more of a command than a statement. 

“you’re really hot.” you gushed as you leaned in close to him, his cologne attacking your senses. 

“you always say that, mamas.” he also rested his cheek on his palm, a frown forming on his face. 

“cause it’s true.” 

“see? you do the same thing.” he complained too in the same tone of voice you did, making you sound just as stupid. well, you sounded cuter. 

“fine, you got me.” 

“it’s okay, baby. at least you call me hot all the time. i mean, that’s pretty sweet if you ask me.” martin kissed your nose, pinching your cheek. you pinched his cheek back, getting back to your painting. 

“but really baby, that was so sweet. you’re the cutest, i love you so much.” you murmured, sweet and sincere, love glistening in your eyes. 

“oh, she loves me!” he gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. you smacked his arm as you laughed, rolling your eyes at him playfully. he was so stupid. so stupidly funny. 

martin’s arms wrapped around your waist like it was muscle memory, his chin propped up on your shoulder as he watched you paint. 

it felt so odd yet so right. letting go of your fears, letting yourself love. opening your heart to someone. it felt so right with him. everything felt so right with martin. 

you just couldn’t believe how easy it was to let go now. the battle was over and the both of you were finally at peace. 

“SO, WHY EXACTLY ARE WE BAKING BAKE SALE BROWNIES IF THERE’S NO BAKE SALE?” martin questioned, staring at the brownie batter that clung to his fingertips. 

“because it’s fun and couples do this.” you say, spraying the metal tray with cooking spray. 

“couples sacrifice their hands to the baking pans and trays?” martin asked, tilting his head to the side as he lifted his eyebrows unconvincingly. 

“no. they spend time together making sweet brownies to indulge in while watching a rom-com.” you walked over to him, bopping his nose, leaving a brown dot on it. he licked his fingers with an exaggerated pout, pretending not to like the taste. 

“these hands could be on your waist right now. you’re so lucky that you’re my girlfriend, mamas. i would not do this for anyone else.” he muttered, letting the water run over his hands as he washed them. 

“aw, that makes me feel so special.” you cooed with a half smile, placing a hand to your chest. martin rolled his eyes at you, splashing you with the water dripping from his fingers. 

“your sarcasm is so annoying.” 

“love you too, baby. now, help me out here.” you smiled as you gestured for him to come to you. he hugged you from behind, his larger hands grabbing your hips. 

“bossy? i like, mm, so hot.” he breathed out, kissing your neck. 

“ew, martin. that’s gross.” you grimaced, a loud gag erupting from you. you could hide it but deep down your stomach was filled with butterflies. 

“but it’s hot. and i’m trying to be flirty.”

“don’t try to flirt with me again.” 

“oh, trust me, babe. i will be.” he whispered in your ear, full of mischief, his lips curved against your skin cheekily.  

“ew.”

“you know you love it.” 

“yeah sure, dude.” you feigned disinterest, pouring the batter into the tray to distract yourself from your bashfulness. 

this was your first date with martin. if you could even call it that. he didn’t want it to be a date though. he kept on denying it and denying it because he believed that baking brownies and watching movies all day was not at all a real first date. 

it wasn’t actually. to that day you still believed that your first date was at the lily field. 

you pulled away from martin reluctantly, carefully putting the brownies into the oven. he instantly grabbed you, hauling you over his shoulder. 

“martin! i didn’t even set the timer.” you gasped, flinging your legs and your arms. martin only held you tighter, walking up the stairs to your room. 

“eh, you know these things’ll never be exact.” martin said casually, shrugging his shoulders. 

“mars!” you yelled, hitting his back. he chuckled, pausing on the stairs as he looked over his shoulder at you. 

“um, correct yourself please.” 

“baby!” you whined, letting out a huff as you stopped having a temper tantrum. he was such a tease. 

“yes, my pretty girl?” he answered, mock innocence in his tone. he lowered you down, cupping your face in his hands. 

“please give me cuddles.” you mumbled as you crossed your arms. he pulled your arms apart, taking one hand in his as he lead you to your bed. 

“as you wish, mamas.” he plopped down along with you, holding you close. 

“so rei wants us to tag along with her and her boyfriend for a movie date.” you say, more of a question than a statement, playing with the soft strands of his hair. 

“double date? sweet. we can go.” he smiled, caressing your cheek with one hand, the other drawing circles on the silver of skin peeking out under your shirt. 

“you’re the best, baby. i’ve always wanted to go on a double date with rei. it’s on my bucket list.” you giggled, kissing his cheek. 

“um, ‘course i am. i’m here to make your dreams come true, i’m your boyfriend. you just wear the cutest outfit in the world, okay?” you loved how that sounded. boyfriend. your boyfriend. he was finally yours. it made you blush so easily. 

“you’re saying that like you aren’t going to pick an outfit for me anyway.”

“can we do that now please?” he asked, staring at you through his lashes with those puppy dog eyes. 

“just tell me when the timer goes off. i set a spare one, just in case.” you sighed reluctantly as you got off his lap, putting your hands on your hips. 

“you know me so well.” martin grinned cheekily, batting his eyelashes at you. 

“very.” you rolled your eyes at him playfully, failing to force the growing smile on your face off. it was really hard to stay mad at him. 

he took both your hands in his, pulling you towards him until you were standing right in between his legs. 

“love you so much, mamas.” he mumbled against your skin, giving your lips a chaste kiss. 

“love you too, baby.” 

you still couldn’t believe it. that martin was your boyfriend. he was going on a date with you. a double date! how cool was that?

“TRIPLE DATE? JUHOON IS SUCH A CONNIVING LITTLE-” your eyebrows instantly shot up, your eyes growing so wide you’d think they’d pop right out your sockets. 

“hey, i can hear you!” juhoon looked back at you with a glare which you returned. 

“where is she, hm?” you interrogated, your arms crossed over your chest slightly. 

“she’s in the bathroom, you creep. just eat martin’s face off or something.” juhoon muttered, shaking some salt into his popcorn. 

so, your double date was a triple date. juhoon decided that he was going to get the balls to invite his talking stage or girlfriend or whatever, you didn’t really know what it was, without telling you. 

you two never kept secrets. never. you told him and rei whenever something extremely important happened and he did the same. having a love life was extremely important and he didn’t tell you. 

juhoon wasn’t a lover boy. well, at least not that you knew of. it’s not like he didn’t believe in love but it was more of he didn’t want to love. or he just wasn’t bothered. though he always seemed to be so capable of being a boyfriend. 

he had a huge heart and clearly a lot of love to give but he didn’t. not even a stupid middle school crush. not even one valentine in elementary school. just a tumble weed rolling in a desert. that was the definition of his love life. 

then, all of a sudden he’s on the verge of a relationship. you cried to him about martin, you even forced him to go say things to him like he was a little birdie. juhoon was absolutely cruel! 

“hey, i do not do that!” you gasped defensively, your nose scrunched up tightly as you pouted. 

“you do, cutie.” martin giggled, hugging you from behind. you let out a loud groan, slapping martin’s hands. 

“ugh, shut up.” 

“aww! my little lovebirds! ugh, being in love is so fun!” rei gushed, drawing an invisible heart with her fingers. 

“rei, you shut up too.” you spat with a painful frown on your face. 

“whatever, i hope you get brain freeze.” 

“ugh, you go and eat your boyfriend’s face off.” you groaned again, shoving her to her boyfriend. 

“i would love to.” rei stuck her tongue out at you mockingly, kissing her boyfriend’s cheek as she scowled at you. 

martin looked down at you with that gorgeous smile of his, twirling you around in his arms to look at you. 

“babe, stop pouting. you know you’re happy for juhoon.” he said with that gentle tone that always made you melt, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. 

“but he lied about him and his whatever-they-are.” you grumbled, your pout faltering at the slightest. martin chuckled at that, kissing the top of your head.

“he just didn’t tell you they’re dating.” he stroked your hair as his chin rested on top of your head. 

“fine. i am happy. happy now?” you muttered through your teeth, plastering a tight smile across your lips.

“only cause you’re adorable. we have a movie to watch, stop frowning or you’ll get wrinkles.” he pulls away enough to hold your hand, your cheeks burning with that familiar feeling of love. you let out a sigh, unable to keep up your facade for much longer.

“only cause i want to be a cute grandma.” you giggled, clinging to martin’s arm. 

you and martin sat in the chairs beside rei and her boyfriend, his arm wrapped around your waist like it always is. you turned to look at rei who was smiling at you, the both of you giggling softly to each other. 

then you both looked at juhoon and his girlfriend, smiling even harder as you silently high-fived each other. 

even though juhoon “lied,” his girlfriend was super cute. they were super cute. you spent more time looking at martin and them than the movie itself. 

you were happy for him. happy that he finally found a girl to give his big heart to. she was extremely lucky. you just hoped she knew that, or you’d have to make her realise it yourself.  

though you’re probably not too good at that stuff compared to juhoon and rei. 

you were happy and he was too. everyone seemed to be happy. but most of all, you were. and you were in love too. that was all that mattered. 

“SO, BABY. YOU’RE LIKE A REAL ARTIST NOW?” you smiled, plopping down on martin’s lap. his hands instantly moved to hold you close, his lips curling up to return your smile.

“well, yes.”

“so, when did you write all these songs?” you stared at him through your lashes with this curious smile playing on your lips. he pretended to think about it, looking up as he tapped his chin. 

“when i met you and when we were on the verge of never getting together and when you were finally mine.”

“so, did you ever plan on telling me about these?” you narrowed your eyes suspiciously, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“yeah, of course, babe.”

“but you didn’t, you little liar.” your eyebrows instantly furrowed, your lips pressed in a tight line as you hit his shoulder.  

“it’s not lying!” he yelped, ducking down as his hands darted to your wrists to stop you. 

“fine. you’re only surviving because someone needs to sing these songs. and write more. and because you’re an extremely hot.” you rolled your eyes, a hint of a smug smirk on your lips. only you could get away with attacking him like this. 

“i take it that you like them?” he asked slowly, cautiously lowering your hands down to hold them. 

“i love them, baby. you’re stupidly cheesy. just don’t forget about me when you have like millions of fans and whatever.” you bubbled, attacking his face with a bunch of strawberry pecks. then you pulled away, giggling at the glossy, pink kiss marks on his face. 

“i’ll never forget you. you seem to forget that i can’t let you go, mamas. maybe i should remind you.” he questioned, raising a flirty eyebrow. 

“how exactly do you plan on doing that?” you replied in the same flirtatious tone as him. 

“singing each and every song to you until you’re sick of me.”

“well, you’ll be singing for a while then.”

“i’ll gladly do it, babe.” he smirked, holding your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckles softly. 

“ugh, you’re so cheesy! none of your fans can have this. just go back to reminding me, pretty please?” you whined, no real irritation in your voice, burying your face in his chest. a laugh rumbled in his chest, twirling a strand of your soft hair around his finger. 

“only for you, my pretty girl.”

you both smiled at each other, martin leaning in to press his lips against yours, soft and warm. the fireworks still went off like they did the very first time you kissed him, or second time, okay more like the third time, almost like you were reliving that moment. 

then he pulled away, your noses bumping each other as your foreheads touched. he whispered an “i love you,” a promise of his love for you that wouldn’t ever change. 

you always believed that love was destined to look the other way when it came to you. that you’d be doomed to the shackles of heartbreak and fear of loving again.

that you wouldn’t ever find a love as beautiful as music with the guy of your dreams. but then you met martin edwards. the guy with the stupid band tees and the stupid smile. with the biggest heart in the world. 

and you finally let go. it felt like you were breaking a curse or something. and it finally felt easy. you were in love for the first time in your life and well being in love with martin edwards was pretty sweet. 

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