chenlelovebot.

shotaro. love when you suck him off then ride him , he’ll see start if you suck his dick , and the climb into his lap and sink down on him. “oh shiiiit.” his head thrown back and you bounce on him , watching his cock disappear into your pussy — his type of heaven. “fuck pretty keep bouncing on me.” groaning. “fuck taro.” raking your nails down his stomach as you ride him. and if you turn around , instant nut , slapping your ass as you bounce on him. “fuck baby i’m gonna cum.” he whispered. “fuck keep doing that and i’m gonna cum inside you.”

eunseok. lets you be a brat all day long , you want to talk back? sure. give him attitude? okay go ahead — just don’t complain when he ties you up and won’t let you touch him while he fucks you. “you did this to yourself.” he said pounding into you. “you wanted to be a fucking brat all day , and now look at you.” he grunted. “begging to cum like a slut on my dick.” flipping you in different positions , his cock stretching you out until he cums. “fuck , take my cum.” but he still isn’t done. “let you cum?” “maybe after you take my cum twice more.”

sungchan. give him any opportunity to eat you out and he’s gonna take it — it’s his favorite pass time , you could be laying in bed on your phone watching tiktok’s and he’s coming into the room , crawling into bed , pulling your pants down — and you let him and he gets right to it , licking and slurping your folds up , he’ll spend hours down there , just tasting you , making you cum over and over again while you’re watching the videos on your phone. “fuck i need more , i need to taste more of your pussy , i need you to squirt on my face.”

wonbin. can never let you film a video alone , without coming up behind you. “keep recording.” he whispered in your ear , lifting your shirt up. “fucking love these tits.” kissing your neck , your phone shaking in your hand as he unbuckled your pants stripping you down , hands creeping into your panties , rubbing your clit , using his other hand to wrap around your throat . “don’t drop your phone baby.” you’re a moaning mess as he toys with you , holding on to his jeans to keep yourself up. “wonbin i’m gonna cum.” you whined out. “cum for me , make a mess on my fingers.” so you did , pulling his fingers out of your pants , bringing them to his lips , moaning at your taste. “fuck , send that to me.”

seunghan. another pussy eating warrior ; sucking on your tits , spreading your legs apart , rubbing your slit before getting on his knees , eating you out while fingering you. “hannie.” softly running your fingers through his hair. “fuck you taste good.” moaning against your heat , his cock hard against his underwear. “wanna make you cum on my tongue.” his words were muffled. “want you to make a mess all over my face.” “please cum for me.”

sohee. teasing him by not letting him stick it in; ignoring his please and whimpers as you rut your slick cunt on his cock. “yn-yn , please sit on it -fuck- i need you so bad.” gripping your waist. “haven’t i given you enough?” you smirked. “you’re so greedy.” teasing him by letting his tip get caught against your hole. “please.” he begged , he was about to cum. “please let me cum inside , please.” his cock twitching , it was too late , he was already cumming on his stomach and your cunt. “fuck , fuck.” his hands slamming against the bed. “please can i fuck you now? please.”

anton. he has an obsession with your nipples , like a big one , sometimes not even in a sexual way too , he just wants to touch them , suck on them , rub them while he lays on your chest and you playing with his hair after sex. “you feel so soft baby.” anton says pressed against your chest. “fucking love that about you.” and you let him , even thought it turns you on — trust he doesn’t care about that , just gives him the chance to fuck you again while sucking on your nipples.

“Bye, Ms. Y/L/N!” Your student gave you a cheery wave and goodbye as he climbed into his parents’ car. You fondly waved back to him and his family, watching until the vehicle was out of sight far beyond the school's drive.

Moorehead Prep, the boarding school that you worked and lived at, had released their students for the winter holidays, and he was the last one to be picked up. Almost all of the other staff who lived on-campus had already left as well. Only those who would be staying for the duration of the break remained. You were staying with one other staff member to watch over the handful of students who were not going home.

The empty, silent halls were eerie; you were used to them being filled with the boisterous raucous of young boys. Even on the weekends during term when they were at extracurriculars, playing outside, or visiting nearby family, it was never this quiet. Large swaths of the building had been shut off completely to make it more manageable for you to keep an eye on the children. As you walked by the one common room left open, you spotted two of your three charges reading by the fireplace.

Leaning in the doorway, you watched them for a moment fondly. The eldest, thirteen-year-old Dogyun, was sprawled across an armchair with his favorite graphic novel in hand. He fidgeted with a bandage on his left earlobe from where he’d tried to pierce his own ears just a couple days ago with a sewing needle pocketed from home economics class. Sungmin appeared to be trying to get ahead on the assigned reading for your class for next term, his history textbook propped up against the bricks marking the outer edge of the fireplace and his feet kicked up behind him as he laid on his stomach on the plush rug. Sungmin was also new to the school like you, three grades below Dogyun but four years younger, a bit small for his age and with big eyes that only served to make him look even younger.

“Sungmin,” you announced your presence, walking over towards the boys. Their heads snapped up towards you, and Sungmin gave you a sheepish look as you kneeled down next to him to gesture to his book. “We are officially on break now. This can wait.”

“I tried to tell him,” Dogyun huffed, flipping a page.

“Sorry, Ms. Y/L/N,” Sungmin muttered.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” you assured him. “I just want you to be able to enjoy your time off school, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Also, I know the headmaster said that anytime you’re on school grounds, you have to be in uniform, even on break…” You eyed the tidy uniforms that they were still wearing—although Dogyun’s tie was a little askew as usual. “But I say don’t worry about it for now. It’ll be our little secret, hm?”

Huge grins broke out on both their faces.

“Thank you, Ms. Y/L/N!” “Thanks!”

You glanced around. “Either of you know where Junhyuk is?”

Junhyuk was your third and final student that you were responsible for over the break, a twelve-year-old honor roll student and Dogyun’s roommate and best friend. They were typically fused at the hip and causing trouble, so it was a bit unusual to see them apart unless something like class schedules mandated it. Sungmin’s dorm was in the portion of the school that was closed down for break, so he was temporarily moved into the older boys’ room, taking the vacant bed of one of their dormmates who went home.

“He’s helping Coach Jung put stuff away in the gym,” Sungmin answered.

“Yeah, he said he only needed one person to help,” Dogyun added.

“Thanks.” You got to your feet and brushed off your knees. “You two need anything else from me?”

“Nope!”

“Alright, I’m going to the gym for a minute if you do. Dinner’s at the normal time.”

“Wait!” Dogyun suddenly halted your departure. “Can you tell Junhyuk that we’re gonna play Switch in our room? So whenever’s he’s done helping.”

“I’ll pass the message.”

Each step of your boots clicked and echoed around you, and as you turned down the hallway that led to the gymnasium, you took the opportunity to stop and peer into the trophy cases that lined it. Dazzling trophies and plaques of all shapes and sizes glinted, reflecting your face back at you. The dates stretched back well over a century.

One of the doors to the gym was latched open, and when you couldn’t spot either Coach Jung nor Junhyuk, you ventured in further. Your ears finally picked up distant shuffling sounds, so you followed them down a hall behind the bleachers on the opposite side of the gymnasium where a storage room door was held ajar by a chair. You grabbed the edge of the door to pull it open all the way and step around the chair.

Junhyuk was dutifully restacking cones of various sizes in one corner while Coach Jung seemed to be doing an inspection on a shelf containing every kind of sports ball known to man. He was currently turning a soccer ball over in his hands, carefully eyeing the threads and wear of the material in some areas.

“Hi, Ms. Y/L/N!” Junhyuk greeted you cheerfully.

At the boy’s words, Coach Jung looked up at you attentively, a friendly smile coming to his features. “Oh, hey. What can we do for you?”

“Just wanted to let you know that everyone’s been picked up,” you smiled back hesitantly. Turning to the boy, you continued, “Also, Dogyun asked me to tell you that, once you’re done helping Coach Jung, the other two will be playing Switch in your room if you’d like to join.”

Junhyuk focused wide, hopeful eyes on Coach Jung. “I finished the cones! What else do you need help with, sir?”

“That was the last thing, Junhyuk,” Coach Jung chuckled. “You can go.”

“Thank you!”

You stepped back so he could dart around you out of the room. Leaving just you and Coach Jung. He dropped the soccer ball at his feet, nudged it over to a pile of them that seemed in a similar rough condition, then grabbed another off the shelf to continue his inspection, while you suffered awkwardly in the silence, watching him.

You didn’t know Coach Jung very well. This was your first year at the school, not to mention your classroom was on the opposite side of the school from the gymnasium, and while you both technically lived on the school grounds, only male teachers lived in the dormitories with the students. Female staff had a separate living quarters, so you never crossed paths with him outside typical school hours either. You had only met him in passing at the beginning of the year with the rest of the teachers, and last week in the brief meeting with the headmaster in preparation for your staying through Winter Break. But you’d heard plenty about him. He was beloved by the students both as their physical education teacher and as the coach of several school sports teams. And he was also a regular topic of gossip around the female staff dorms. While you were the youngest in the women’s quarters by at least two decades, the older ladies still enjoyed a good piece of eye candy when he’d lead the running club on a jog around the grounds before breakfast, or help one of them carry something heavy. The delighted tittering when they found out that it would just be you and Coach Jung here for Winter Break was ceaseless until the last of your housemates finally left.

“Did you need something else, Ms. Y/L/N?” Coach Jung asked.

“Oh, I got our keys from the secretary.” You held up the two sets of keys that you’d been given which would grant you access to all the necessary facilities for the next month. “Do you want me to leave your set in your office, or…?”

“I’ll take them now, thanks.” He stepped towards you, hand outstretched.

You dropped the keyring into his palm with a light clink, and he pocketed them. “Also, I uh, I already told the boys they didn’t have to worry about uniform code for the next month. Hope that’s okay with you.”

“Oh, pff, yeah.” He waved a dismissive hand, eyes focused once more on the equipment. “The least of my concerns on any given day is whether or not they’re wearing the right kind of sock, much less on Christmas.”

“That was my thinking!”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

“And, uhm—” You coughed, looking around at anything but him. “You can just call me Y/N when we’re not around the kids.”

He let out an airy chuckle, “Will do. You can call me Sungchan.”

“Oh, right.” You bit your lip to stop from laughing but your nerves still made words pour out, “Please don’t be too offended but I kind of forgot your name. I’m pretty sure you introduced yourself at the beginning of the year all-staff meeting but since then, I’ve really only heard people call you Coach Jung…”

Sungchan laughed loudly, nodding in agreement. “As soon as you came in here, I realized I couldn’t remember your name. I was going to look it up in the staff directory after you left.”

“So we’re really on the same page,” you chuckled. “Is it your first year, too?”

“No, fifth.”

“Okay, I definitely feel a lot better knowing I’m not doing this with another rookie.”

“I’ll take you under my wing. Promise.” He grinned, and oddly enough, his confidence actually did calm your anxiety about the whole thing.

“Well how about, between us, no stupid questions?” You proposed hesitantly. “Instead of looking names up in the staff directory behind each other’s backs or whatever, we just ask? I think it’ll make the next month go much easier, right?”

“I think so too,” he agreed easily. “Just ask.”

“I’ll let you get back to what you were doing.” You gestured vaguely to the storage room. “I’m going to check on the boys and then probably be in the library until dinner.”

“One more thing before you go.” Sungchan brought out his cell phone from his pocket. “Probably be a good idea to have each other’s numbers.”

The kitchen staff were also gone for the holiday break, but had prepared refrigerated and frozen meals. A stipend was also left that could be spent on groceries or off-campus meals if you wanted. The dining hall felt far too large for just the five of you, so you took your reheated food to the common room to eat instead.

“So, what do you boys want to do on break?” You asked as you were all sat around one table together. “Within reason. Give us some ideas, and Coach Jung and I will see what we can do.”

“Right now, we’re looking at one or two off-campus activities a week,” Sungchan added from his seat beside you. “And bringing some fun here if we can.”

“You don’t have to answer now. Think about it.”

“Can we go skating on the pond?” Junhyuk requested.

“Ooh, what about sledding?” Dogyun said.

“We should build igloos on the soccer field!”

“And sleep in them!”

“I bet the Willow Hill is tall enough to ski from!”

“My uncle took me ice fishing one time! Coach Jung, do you think Mr. Suh would mind if we took some tools from woodshop to carve a hole into the pond?”

Both you and Sungchan chuckled, your coworker taking the lead in answering, “He’d probably be more upset that you cut a hole in the pond ice without him.”

“What about you, Sungmin?” You prompted the youngest, who hadn’t joined in the discussion yet.

He looked up from his food, big eyes getting a little bigger. “I thought you said we could think about it…”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” you apologized, patting his head fondly. “I didn’t mean to pressure you. Take your time.”

Upon returning to the female staff dorms, you immediately noticed that something was wrong. You weren’t embraced by warm air after the cold, arduous journey from the main building. The difference in temperature was barely noticeable. Investigating the thermostat, you found that it was set to what should’ve been a toasty temperature.

With a sigh, you dialed the after-hours maintenance line for the school. After three calls going to voicemail, you let out a huff of frustration, which came out as a white cloud in the chilly air. Begrudgingly, you threw a few necessities into a bag, then trudged back to the main building once more.

Spotting light streaming out from under a door at the end of the dorm hall you were in, you shuffled over and knocked. You’ve only been in the dorm halls twice, once on an informal tour during your interview, and the second on a brief tour during your orientation. From what you remembered, the teachers’ rooms were at the beginning and end of each hall.

“Hold on!” Sungchan’s voice called out from within, and after a few moments, he opened the door. He clearly hadn’t been expecting you, blinking down at you. “Y/N. Thought you were one of the boys. Is everything okay?”

“The heat’s out in my dorm,” you explained. “Nobody picked up when I called maintenance.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, so I was just gonna—”

“Oh, yeah, come on in.” He stepped back and opened the door wider.

You slowly pointed over your shoulder. “—sleep in the common room… on the couch.”

“Right.” He coughed. “I mean, whatever you’re comfortable with. I’ve got an extra bed since Shotaro’s out. Or actually, you can stay in here and I’ll sleep in the common room.”

He was already reaching to grab a blanket off a bed, holding the door open with his foot.

“I didn’t come to take over your room,” you stopped him with a laugh. “You think Shotaro would mind?”

“Nah, I’ll take his bed.” Sungchan threw the blanket back and once again moved out of the doorway for you to go in.

You hesitated in the hallway, however. “Wait—Do you think this is okay? I’m not supposed to even be in your room.”

“Actually, I’m not supposed to be in your room,” he informed you with a grin. “There’s technically no rule against you being here.”

“What? Why wouldn’t they make it the same?”

He shrugged. “They forgot? Figured it’d be harder to have hookups with kids knocking down your door every night? I don’t know.”

“Thanks, Sungchan.” You smiled, ducking into the room. As he closed the door behind you, you took stock of the room. It was a little larger than the student rooms, with an attached bathroom and two beds in opposite corners. Each of them also had a nightstand, desk, chair, and dresser. Sungchan’s roommate was Shotaro, the dance teacher, and you spotted a couple pictures of him and his family on one of the desks.

He fetched a couple more blankets from his under-bed storage and handed them to you. “Just washed these yesterday.”

“I feel so special,” you joked, waiting for him to take the bedding off his bed and toss it onto Shotaro’s.

“Who do you room with?” He made conversation as you settled in, toeing off your winter boots and setting your bag down.

“Oh, nobody. We have individual rooms.”

“Lucky,” he huffed.

“Only two showers, though.”

“In the whole building?”

“Yeah, well, it’s just one of the old headmasters’ houses that they renovated.” You sat down on the edge of the mattress. Pulling out your phone and charging cable, you plugged it into an outlet next to the nightstand. “Ms. Hyesoo is very strict about the shower schedule so nobody uses up all the hot water. When you first start at the school, she times all your showers until she thinks you can be trusted.”

“Wait, seriously?!” Sungchan’s mouth was agape.

“Yup. And if you’re not new and she suspects you’re taking too long, she’ll start timing you again.”

“Who made her president of the shower?”

“I’m pretty sure she did,” you chuckled, scooting up towards the headboard and draping the blanket over your lap. “I mean, I think it is important that nobody hogs all the hot water so everyone can use it. And she’s technically like, in charge of the female staff dorms so I guess if she thinks this is necessary…”

“Okay, well for the next month, take as long as you want,” he scoffed.

You laid down on your side, pulling the blanket up over your shoulder. “I appreciate that.”

He reached up for the lightswitch by the door. “Lights out?”

“Ready.”

With a flick of his fingers, the room was plunged into darkness. You could hear Sungchan settling in on his side of the room. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you called out softly, “Sungchan?”

“Yeah?”

“Seriously, thanks for doing this with me. I already told you it’s my first year here, but it’s also my first year teaching at all. I took all these extra online certification courses, even after they told me I got the job. I just want to be the best for the kids, you know?”

“You know much about Mr. Shin? He used to teach your class.”

“Bits and pieces. He retired, right?”

“Yeah. And this is the first year I actually hear kids excited to go to their history classes. Telling me about the cool stuff they’re learning.”

You smiled to yourself, rubbing your socked feet together under the covers. “Aw, yay.”

“You’ll keep learning. The fact that you want to do all that for them already gives you a good start,” he added.

“Thanks, Sungchan.”

“Anytime.” He yawned, “Mm, goodnight.”

“Night,” you replied, shutting your eyes.

It wasn’t until Monday that you heard back from anybody regarding the heat in the women’s building. The head groundskeeper finally called you back, apologetically informing you that the heat in that building was scheduled to shut off for every winter break and he hadn’t been informed to keep it on this year. He offered to drive in to turn it back on for you, letting you know that it wouldn’t be until this afternoon since he lived several hours away, and you gratefully declined his offer. He was on break, too, and it seemed like far too big of an inconvenience at this point. You would just tough it out in the main building for the month.

The boys had asked to go sledding for their first winter activity, which was an easy enough request. Sungchan dug out a few old snow sleds from an equipment shed on the grounds while you inspected the boys’ gear and gave them a thorough safety lecture before even letting them step foot out of their dorm room. Now, you and Sungchan watched them take off from the top of the Willow Hill, sleds careening down through the snow before skidding to a stop nearby. Then they’d leap to their feet and run all the way back up, dragging the sleds behind them.

“Looks fun,” you commented as the three kids all piled onto one sled together, Sungmin sandwiched between the two older boys.

“You want to go?” Sungchan offered, gesturing to the other two sleds forgotten at the bottom of the hill.

“Last time I was in charge of my own sled, I knocked both my front teeth out,” you admitted sheepishly.

“Ouch,” he chuckled. “How about I drive, then? If you’re cool with that.”

“When’s the last time you drove a sled, exactly?”

“Last winter. Why do you think we have them on campus? We use them for Winter Field Day in January.”

You held up your hands in deference. “My apologies, I shouldn’t have doubted your skills.”

Despite your offer to help, Sungchan hauled the bright orange sled uphill by himself. Willow Hill was named for a willow tree that used to sit at the top of it. All that was left of the tree was a short stump that was now almost completely buried in snow.

“What happened to it?” You questioned, staring at the stump. “The willow?”

“Oh, uhm, it died. They had to cut it down,” he replied, lips pursing in a thoughtful frown. “Can’t remember why it died, though. It was way before I worked here.”

“Huh. I’ll ask Ms. Hyesoo after break. I bet she knows.”

“If anybody is going to know, it’s her or the headmaster,” he agreed with a chuckle. Switching trains of thought, he dropped the sled onto the ground and gestured to it, “So, you’ll be in front and hold onto the tie. Lean when I lean. I’ll tell you which way, okay?”

You nodded. “Seems easy enough.”

He held the sled in place while you got settled into the front, then climbed into the back himself. His long legs stretched forward on either side of you, his chest was nearly flush to your back, and he readjusted to be able to properly see over you.

“Good?” He checked in with you.

“Mhm.” You held on tightly to the rope anchored to the front of the sled.

“Y/N—Sorry—You’ve got to lean back on me. If you’re sitting forward like that and we hit a rock you’re going to go flying.”

“Shit, okay, when you put it like that,” you laughed and did as he instructed. Now fully reclined on him, you looked over your shoulder to ask, “That better?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Much uh, safer.”

“Can you see?”

“Yeah, more than—more than before.”

“Oh, good.”

“Good.”

“So, are we ready to go?”

“What?”

“Go down the hill? Sled?”

Sungchan smiled a little. “Yeah, of course. Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you determined. “Do I get a countdown?”

“Are you holding onto the tie?”

“Well, yeah.”

“One—” And with a great shove, he launched your sled off the top of the hill. The cold air bit at your cheeks and nose as you sped downhill, white flurries of snow flew up on either side of the sled, and abundant, uncontrollable laughter tumbled from your mouth. When you felt one particularly large bump under the sled bottom, you let out a half-yelp half-giggle and clutched Sungchan’s leg, your other hand keeping a death grip on the rope. He let go of his handrail on that side of the sled to hold you down by your arm.

“Left!” He called out, and you could hear the giddiness in his own tone with the command. Both of you leaned left, and the sled successfully veered left away from a small log.

At the bottom of the hill, the sled eventually came to a stop, and you let out a sigh of relief.

“There. Made it in one piece,” Sungchan teased, patting the top of your head.

“That was a lot of fun,” you said through breathless sputters, starting to sit up to get ready to climb up out of the sled.

“Want to go again?”

Before you could answer, Dogyun and Junhyuk swarmed you, clambering trying to call dibs as to who would ride with Sungchan next.

“Hold on, let Ms. Y/L/N and me get up first, okay?” He shooed them back. The coach hauled himself out of the sled, and you suddenly were scrambling to stay upright without him behind you. He didn’t leave you floundering for long, offering two hands to help you up, making sure you were steady on your feet before turning to the boys. “Alright, now, one at a time—”

Having already noticed the distinct lack of Sungmin with the others, you turned around in place, scanning the snowy hills for him. Thankfully he wasn’t very far, at the top of Willow Hill, sitting on the stump and seemingly watching the rest of you at the foot. Dogyun was holding a red sled, and Junhyuk a purple one, so you knew Sungmin didn’t have one. You waved at him. He waved back.

Hiking your way back up, you approached the boy curiously. “Hey.”

“Hi, Ms. Y/L/N,” he peered up at you from under the brim of his beanie.

“You forgot your sled. Unless you were planning on rolling down like a log.” You tucked your arms into your chest and mimicked doing so.

He giggled at you before shaking his head. “No, I just wanted to sit up here.”

“You can see a lot up here,” you commented, appreciating the sports fields, pond, and school buildings all laid out around you. “Mind if I sit with you?”

“You can.” Sungmin scooted over on the wide stump to make room for you.

“Thank you.”

“I’ve been thinking about what I want to do on break. Can we go to a movie theater?”

There was a small town nearby that school personnel would sometimes make trips to, but you didn’t know off the top of your head whether or not it had a movie theater. If it didn’t, the next biggest town was much, much further. But you weren’t going to write off his request so hastily. “I’ll look into it, Sungmin. What kind of movie do you want to see?”

“Mmm… I don’t know. I like all kinds of movies.”

You chuckled a little. “Good point. Movies are cool. I’ll see what our options are. Any other ideas?”

“No. Did you know some fish hibernate?”

“I did not know that.”

He pointed to the pond. “I asked Mr. Lee what happens to the fish when the water freezes and he told me.”

“Very interesting. Thanks for telling me.”

“Did you know that some fish hibernate?”

Sungchan poked his head out of the bathroom to affix you with a confused look, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. “Huh?”

“When lakes and stuff freeze over, some fish will hibernate,” you reiterated seriously from where you were sitting cross-legged on your bed.

He finished brushing, spat out his toothpaste, and rinsed his toothbrush before shutting the lights off. Lumbering back into the bedroom, he stopped next to your bed, arms folded over his chest, head cocked, and face absolutely bewildered as he asked, “What?”

“Sungmin was telling me about it today.” You typed away on your laptop.

“Okay, that makes more sense now.”

“He wants to go to a movie theater, but the closest one is like five hours away,” you huffed.

“…To see a movie about fish hibernation?”

“What? No. I mean, he’d probably like that, but I doubt there’s actually a movie like that showing.”

“Of course, my bad.”

“He said he’d see any movie, but there’s no movie theater in town. Look.” You pushed your laptop to the side, off one leg.

He took the cue and sat down next to you on the mattress, taking your computer into his lap. Two of his long fingers swiped and tapped across the trackpad. He alternated pursing his lips and rolling the bottom one between his teeth as he also evaluated the lack of cinema options in your area. Finally, he clicked his tongue against the back of his front teeth.

“Damn, the Cineplex must have closed down since last year,” he sighed. “There used to be this tiny chain cinema like, an hour from here. Mrs. Kang organized field trips there every semester.”

The mention of Mrs. Kang, the film teacher, gave you an idea. You might not be able to bring the kids to the movies, but you could try your best to bring the experience of the movies to them.

“Hold on—There’s projectors in every classroom,” you started explaining your plan to Sungchan. “Take out the desks and chairs, bring in some pillows and blankets, get some popcorn… We’ve got our own movie theater right here.”

“Yes, that’s perfect!” He held a hand up for you to high-five.

“My classroom is in one of the wings that’s locked up right now, so we’ll need to borrow someone else’s…”

“We can use mine.”

“Wait, you have a classroom?”

“Physical education has a classroom, yes,” he chuckled. “We’ve got pencils and everything.”

You sheepishly tried to backpedal, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine, Y/N,” he reassured you, knocking his knee against yours. “It’s in a random hallway in the gym. Nobody knows it’s there. But it has a projector.”

“Okay, if I take the boys to the store to pick out snacks and stuff, would that be enough time for you to set up your classroom? Or do you need my help?”

“Nah. I’ve got set-up, you’re on snacks.”

The next night, you got back from your short trip into town with all three boys in tow and bags of snacks in hand. You took the snacks with you as you sent them to get changed out of their heavy winter clothes. As you headed off towards your own temporary quarters, you texted Sungchan.

[you: just got back. is everything ready?]

You set the bags of snacks down on your bed before pulling your parka off to hang up. The bathroom door opened then, and your friendly greeting got stuck in your throat. Humid air came out along with Sungchan, a towel tied around his waist and damp hair hanging over his forehead.

He skidded to a stop just past the threshold, alarmed. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t hear you come back.”

“No, it’s fine, I didn’t hear you either, sorry,” you apologized, trying to keep your eyes on anything except the beads of water tracing the contours of his bare chest as they rolled down, down, down, and disappeared into the towel.

“I uh, forgot pants,” he pointed to the dresser on his side of the room—the one you were currently occupying—shuffling his way over there.

Keeping one hand where the towel was tied, he flipped his wet hair out of his eyes with the other before opening a drawer and rifling through it. With him turned away from you, you took the opportunity to look a little more directly at him, at the way his back and shoulders subtly flexed and shifted with every movement. When he righted himself, clothing secured in his hand, you hastily looked away, back down at the bags of snacks as if you had been attending to something important with them the whole time.

Sungchan reemerged from the bathroom fully dressed, toweling off his hair, “Everything go okay when you were out?”

“Yeah, the boys were great,” you told him. “Your room all set up?”

“Yep. You ready?”

“Ready.”

He tilted his head. “…In your snow boots?”

You shook your head, embarrassed. “Right. Uhm, give me a minute to change.”

“I’ll grab the boys and meet you in the hall.”

Sungchan’s classroom was, in fact, in a random hallway in the gymnasium. The hallway outside contained the desks and chairs that used to be inside, and sleeping mats were now spread out on the floor of the small room, pillows and blankets piled up on top of them. You had all each brought your own blankets and other various items for comfort, but this looked plenty cozy on its own. While the kids immediately jumped on the mound of blankets and pillows, you went with Sungchan over to his laptop that was hooked up to the projector.

“You did good,” you complimented him, fondly watching the boys paying around and wrestling. “This is perfect.”

“It was your good idea.” He bumped your hip with his. “I just executed it.”

“This was better than I imagined. A-plus execution.”

“We’re a pretty good team, huh?” Sungchan grinned, pulling up the first movie.

With the first movie started, everyone started actually settling in. You were readjusting pillows and blankets while Sungchan took it upon himself to begin distributing the snacks. “Sungmin…” he held the chocolate covered pretzels out.

“Thanks, Coach Jung,” Sungmin accepted the bag.

“Who got the sour gummy worms?”

“Me!” Dogyun called out. Sungchan tossed them to him.

“Mini peanut butter cups?”

“Me!” Junhyuk answered.

“And these are mine, so this must be yours.” He passed out the final two snacks, his pick and yours.

You accepted it from him graciously. “Thank you.”

Your students all quieted down as the movie started, splitting their snacks between them in quiet agreement. As they readjusted and got comfortable during the course of the movie, you scooted around as well to give them more room. But when you accidentally knocked your hand against Sungchan’s under a blanket, you realized that you had slowly been scooting closer into his personal space in the process.

“Sorry,” you whispered, taking your hand back and preparing to move away.

“It’s fine,” he replied quietly. “You’re fine there, don’t worry.”

Trying to ignore the heat rising on your cheeks, you stared at the screen in front of you, staying put and letting your leg fall and relax against his.

“Hey, you boys almost ready?” You asked into the open door of the boys’ dorm room. Junhyuk and Dogyun were inside lacing up their snowboots.

Junhyuk handed you a pair of small gloves. “Minnie forgot these, can you go give them to him? Dogyun takes forever to get ready.”

“Yeah, because you were hogging—”

“I’ll give them to him,” you cut off the beginnings of their bickering. “Thanks, Junhyuk.”

Snow soccer was on the schedule today—what exactly that entailed, you still weren’t sure, but the boys would apparently explain everything once you started. So you began the trek out to the soccer fields. Fresh snow was beginning to fall, and you wondered if this would benefit or ruin the snow soccer plans. Two others were already there, Sungchan and Sungmin. You had just raised your hand, preparing to wave, when you realized that something was wrong. It sounded like Sungmin was yelling, upset. Your friendly greeting died in your throat as you dropped your hand and picked up your pace.

“I just want you to leave me alone!” He seemed to be yelling at Sungchan, little, bare hands balled into fists at his side. Sungchan, for his part, wasn’t engaging. He didn’t seem to be reacting at all, still as a statue and mouth dropped open. “I never want to talk to you ever again! You’re always doing this! You’re-You’re such a—such a asshole!”

“Jung Sungmin!” You finally stopped him, stepping in between the two. Keeping your voice level but stern, you told him, “That’s enough. Go to your dorm and take a breather. Don’t leave your room until you and I have talked, okay?”

The boy’s face was completely pink, tears welling up in his eyes. But more than anything, he was angry. You’d never seen him more than annoyed, never say anything harsher than ‘dumb,’ so this entire situation was leagues out of your comprehension.

Sungmin didn’t say anything more, turning on his heel and storming off towards the building. You watched him for another minute to make sure he made it inside before pivoting on the adult still with you.

“That’s your idea of deescalation and conflict resolution, Sungchan?” You questioned, eyes wide.

Sungchan was still frozen to the spot, eyes glued to where Sungmin had just been standing. “He…”

Utterly flabbergasted, you looked between Sungchan and the school building. “Sungmin’s the sweetest kid ever, I can’t imagine anything getting him that worked up.”

“It’s my fault.”

“What?”

“It’s his first Christmas without his mom.” He offered an explanation, his voice hollow. “He doesn’t want to be here.”

“He wants to be home with her,” you said softly. Your heart broke with the realization. While the reasons the three students were staying over break hadn’t been disclosed to you, you knew they weren’t going to be good. “No other family?”

Sungchan gestured to himself, the defeat apparent on his face. “You’re looking at it. He’s my nephew.”

That did catch you off-guard. While you were aware they shared a surname, it wasn’t a terribly uncommon one, and definitely not enough to suspect any sort of relation between them. Especially since neither had ever alluded to it. “Why did you stay here with him instead of going home?”

“I don’t have anywhere to take him. I live here during the school year, and I used to stay with my sister and Sungmin for the couple months during the summer in between.”

You nodded, noticing the redness around Sungchan’s eyes too. While there was more that you wanted to say, Dogyun and Junhyuk were coming out of the school building, and you still had to talk to Sungmin. Patting his shoulder, you said, “I’m going to check on Sungmin.”

“Thanks,” he sighed, sniffing and trying to quickly compose himself.

Passing by the older boys, you saw the solemn looks on their faces and figured they had encountered Sungmin. You shook the snow off you as you walked through the empty, quiet halls. The light poured out of the open door to the boys’ dorm room, and you stopped at the threshold. Sungmin was sitting on the bottom bunk of one of the two bunk beds, staring at his feet that were dangling over the edge.

“Hey, Sungmin,” you greeted him calmly. “Are you ready to talk? Or do you need a few more minutes?”

“You can come in,” he mumbled.

“Thank you.” You stepped into the room. “May I sit with you?”

He shrugged, and you took that as a yes, positioning yourself at the foot of his bed. The boy huffed, refusing to meet your eyes as he suddenly began rambling, “I shouldn’t have yelled at him, or said a bad word. He’s my teacher, I should be respectful, I know. I’ll apologize.”

“That’s all true,” you acquiesced. “Are you okay?”

“He told you, didn’t he?” He messed with a loose thread on his sweater. “About my mom… That she…”

“He did. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

Sungmin’s shoulders jumped as he hiccupped, and you could see that tears had finally begun falling down his cheeks, wetting his lap. You stayed put, not wanting to crowd or overwhelm him.

“Where do you feel it? The sadness?” You asked him quietly.

He pointed to the middle of his chest. “H-Here.”

“Good job,” you praised him quietly. Breathing in, you asked, “Can I tell you something?”

He nodded.

“It’s my first Christmas without my mom, too,” you admitted. Sungmin finally looked up at you, his tear-stained face giving you a sinking feeling of déjà vu in the pit of your stomach. You continued, “I miss her all the time. It’s okay to miss her, and feel sad, and all sorts of stuff. It hurts, right?”

“A lot. Right here,” his voice trembled as he patted himself on the chest once more. Then, he curled both of his hands into fists in his lap. “I want it to stop.”

“I know, Sungmin, I know. When you hurt inside, you should talk about it, not try to make somebody else hurt more than you.” You felt for him, terribly. “It won’t make it stop immediately, but it makes it easier.”

“I-I’m also mad. A lot,” he confessed, eyes seeking your face. “A-At him.”

“At Coach Jung?” You were careful to only address Sungchan the way that you’ve heard Sungmin address him.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I mean, like, I was mad because he told me to go back inside and get my gloves but like, I wasn’t really mad because he told me to get my gloves. My hands were cold. I think… maybe I was mad he was telling me what to do. Like he really cares.”

You tilted your head thoughtfully. “You think he doesn’t care about you?”

“…No, I don’t think that,” Sungmin huffed, his shoulders deflating. He was no longer actively sobbing, the odd stray tear slipping down his cheek. “I’m just being mean again.”

“It takes practice.”

“What does? Not being mean?”

“Being a person. You’ll be practicing your whole life,” you informed him. “Everyone else is too. It’s everyone’s first time being a person.”

“He’s my uncle.” Sungmin got up, shuffling over to where a suitcase was sitting atop one of the dressers, opening one of the front pockets. He sat down right next to you to show them to you. They were custom Christmas cards that a family would mass-order every year to send out to their entire address book, each one featuring a big picture of Sungmin, Sungchan, and a woman—Sungmin’s mom. Sungmin pointed to Sungchan in the picture from last year. “Coach Jung. Well, he’s really my Uncle Sungchan. I-I didn’t want anybody to know at school, so I stopped calling him Uncle Sungchan. During the summer he always came and lived with us—me and my mom. He told me stories about the cool school where he worked, and I used to beg Mom to send me here…” His voice cracked, and he snapped his head up to you, eyes wide with panic. “You don’t think that’s why…?”

You couldn’t imagine what came next. “Why what?”

“Because I wanted to come here? And now I am? I didn’t mean it like that, I just—”

“Oh, Sungmin, no, no. Of course not,” you quickly reassured him, rubbing his back to soothe his breathing that had quickened again. “I know sometimes we want to find reasons to blame bad things on ourselves, because it makes it easier to understand, or because then we think maybe we could stop something like it in the future. But this isn’t your fault.”

He visibly relaxed again, but kept staring at the pictures on the cards pensively. As he flipped through them, you saw they went back to his first Christmas, an infant in a candy-cane printed onesie in his mom’s arms as Sungchan happily wrapped an arm around them both, beaming at the camera. It wasn’t professionally taken like the more recent ones, just a selfie taken on a couch.

With an idea forming in your mind, you said, “Every Christmas, I used to help my mom bake cookies to give out to our neighbors. Do you want to make some with me this year?”

Finally, something other than sorrow—interest—flashed across Sungmin’s face. He nodded.

“Perfect, thank you,” you smiled. “I need a taste tester, after all.”

He giggled a little at this.

“Since you’re helping me, is there something you and your mom used to do every Christmas that we can do?”

Sungmin sniffled and nodded. “We-We made Christmas cookies, and would put like, sprinkles and stuff on them.”

“I can totally make that happen,” you promised.

“Junhyuk and Dogyun will want to do it too.” After a beat, he added, “Uncle Sungchan, too.”

“Absolutely. All five of us.”

He rested his head on your shoulder, looking at his pictures again. “Yeah.”

“Yeah…” You echoed, squeezing his shoulder tight, to remind him you were there. Your other hand brought out his gloves that were still in your pocket, handing them over to him, “Your friends wanted to make sure you had these.”

“I’m not ready for snow soccer yet, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Snow soccer can wait for whenever you’re ready. They’ll understand.”

When Sungmin finally felt ready, he tucked his pictures away again, and the two of you set back off outside. The snow hadn’t let up while you were inside, and way out on the soccer field, you saw Junhyuk and Dogyun throwing a soccer ball back and forth while Sungchan watched on from further away.

“Hey!” Sungmin waved a gloved hand at them, jumping up and down.

“Minnie!” Junhyuk waved back.

Sungmin ran ahead of you to his friends, and you made your way over to Sungchan. He watched the kids interacting, and you knew he was desperately looking for any hint as to Sungmin’s mental state.

“He’s okay,” you told him. “I’ll tell you about it after dinner?”

“Good idea.” He nodded. Moving his gaze to you, he added genuinely, “Thanks, Y/N.”

“Let’s play snow soccer!” Dogyun announced loudly, to the cheers of the other two. “We need you guys, too!”

Locking eyes with Sungchan, both of you smiled, before you agreed enthusiastically, “Alright, let’s play snow soccer!”

Snow soccer, it turns out, was soccer that you played in the snow. The biggest difference, perhaps, was that it was harder to kick the ball through the layer of freshly fallen snow, and that the lines on the field were rendered entirely useless by the fact that you couldn’t see them under said snow. But it was fun anyway, the five of you running around until the sun was going down and the lights over the field clicked on. Your nose was frozen off by the time hunger finally pulled the boys off the field and inside. They spent all dinner exchanging ideas about what other sports could be better played in the snow, then it was bedtime.

As soon as the door to your room was shut, the air grew heavy. Sungchan plopped down on his bed—his real one, the one that you had been using. You sat next to him.

“I’m sorry about your sister, Sungchan,” you broached the subject head-on. So far, all of the focus had been on Sungmin’s loss, you wondered if Sungchan had even stopped and let himself grieve too.

“Thanks,” he whispered, wringing his hands together. Clearing his throat, he asked, “You said Sungmin’s good?”

“We talked about how he’s feeling. He showed me pictures of his mom—your Christmas cards.”

“When our parents found out she was pregnant, they disowned her. She wasn’t married.”

“That’s horrible…”

“I was the only one in our whole family who kept talking to her. That’s how he ended up with me. I didn’t think bringing him around to family Christmas now would help any. They’re strangers to him.” His voice was tight, and he let out a shaky breath. Rubbing his face, he continued, “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She wanted to do all this stuff—She was so smart.”

“Sungmin’s really bright,” you commented lightly.

“Yeah, he is.” He smiled faintly. “He called me ‘Uncle Sungchan’ again, just now when we were saying goodnight. Thank you for whatever you said to him. All those online certificates seem to have paid off.”

“Wasn’t exactly in the online trainings…” You confessed hesitantly. “I told him this was my first Christmas without my mom too.”

“Shit, Y/N…” Sungchan breathed out, the bittersweet smile immediately falling from his face. He hugged you. “I’m so sorry.”

“My dad passed when I was a baby. It was just me and my mom for my whole life. Now it’s just me,” you muttered against his shoulder, tears beginning to eke out the corners of your eyes. With a cynical chuckle, you said, “I haven’t told anybody else this, but the reason I volunteered to stay here over break is so I wouldn’t be alone on Christmas. It’s a bit pathetic, isn’t it?”

“No, not at all,” he reassured you, hand cradling the back of your head. “Honestly, I probably could’ve taken him somewhere—rented a place for the month, I don’t know—but I was afraid of it being just the two of us on Christmas. Thought the other boys would give him something else to do than be sad, you know?”

“They’ve kept us pretty busy,” you giggled.

“For sure,” he agreed humorously.

“Sungmin told me that every Christmas, they used to make and decorate cookies. I promised we would all do that.”

“It’s a good idea. Thanks, Y/N.”

You and Sungchan were still hugging each other, and with your tears subsiding, you began pulling away to dab at your eyes with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “You’re doing really good, Sungchan,” you sniffled, and patted his forearm. “With Sungmin. You’ll keep learning.”

He turned his hand over, catching yours and holding it. “You’re good with them too. All of them.”

Your chest was suddenly too tight around your heart, and you couldn’t say anything, so you squeezed his hand back instead.

“I’m here if you need me, for whatever. Even after break,” he said as he began standing up, still holding onto your hand.

“Of course. You took me under your wing, remember?” You choked out a joke.

He smiled fondly. “Of course.”

Letting your hand slip from his, he crossed over to the other bed and pulled the covers back to get under them. You were oddly cold as you went to sleep that night, blankets tight around you, thinking again about how warm Sungchan’s arms were around you.

The five of you were in the dining hall for the first time that break. The long tables afforded plenty of space to spread out the many, many cookie decorating supplies you’d procured especially for today. Yesterday, you and Sungmin had baked batches and batches of cookies—five people was simply too many to have in the kitchen helping out at once, so you sent the other three to find something to do. Now that the cookies were all cool, it was time to decorate them.

“How’d you do that?” Sungmin gasped, staring at one of Junhyuk’s cookies, which had gel food colorings swirled through the white frosting.

“Here, I’ll show you, Minnie,” Junhyuk offered, putting the cookie he was currently working on down.

You smiled to yourself, continuing to carefully place snowflake sprinkles on your cookie. Sungchan peered over at your work. “What’s going on there?”

“It’s Apollo 8, the first manned mission to the moon.” You gestured to your surprisingly legible rocketship piped on with gel icing, then at the pearl sprinkle you’d put next to it. “That’s the moon.”

He laughed, pointing to the snowflake sprinkles that you were still dutifully adding. “I’m not the science teacher, but I don’t think it snows in space.”

“Neither am I.” You wrinkled your nose at him in jest. “I took creative liberties. It entered orbit around the moon on Christmas Eve.”

“Well when you’re done, I need those sprinkles.” He nudged his work over towards you for you to look. You could parse out a shaky stick figure, and another circle next to one of its feet. “My snow soccer is missing some snow.”

“That looks like a volleyball to me.”

“You’re right, hold on.” He picked the black icing back up, adding a few dots inside the empty white circle. “Better?”

“Much.” You pushed the container of sprinkles over to him. “All yours.”

“You guys made a lot of cookies,” he commented, eyeing the other containers of treats that you still hadn’t decorated. “There’s only five of us.”

“Got a bit carried away,” you admitted sheepishly. “But they’re really good!”

“Ooh, I haven’t tried one yet, hold on.” He grabbed an undecorated cookie and bit into it. His eyebrows shot up, and he nodded appreciatively as he wolfed down the rest of it. “Mm, I don’t think we’ll have any problem finishing these, actually.”

“You’ve got crumbs all over your face now.”

“Oops.” He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You missed some.” You tsked, grabbing a clean napkin and brushing the rest off his cheek.

He beamed. “Thanks.”

With a flutter in your chest, you returned to decorating cookies.

The next day was Christmas Eve, and Dogyun was heading home. This had always been part of the plan, in your briefing from the headmaster. While he was staying at the school for Winter Break as a whole, he’d be with his family on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. They lived in the nearby town and were driving over to pick him up soon.

As you watched over the boy haphazardly throwing things into an overnight bag, you couldn’t help your curiosity, and cautiously asked, “Were they out of town? Your family?”

“Nah,” Dogyun answered bluntly. “We live right there.”

“Oh. Of course.”

“Junhyuk’s dad made him stay here, so I asked my parents to stay too,” he expounded as he dug around in his dresser, occasionally sniff-testing garments of clothing before shoving them in. “They said I could, but I had to come home for Christmas. I wanted him to just stay at our house, since my parents are on his emergency card, but then we heard that Minnie would be here too. Me ‘n Junhyuk.”

You smiled proudly at the boy. “That’s all very nice of you to do for your friends, Dogyun.”

“Why’re you here, Ms. Y/L/N? On Christmas?” Dogyun questioned. “What about your parents?”

“My parents have uhm—they’ve passed.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry, I didn’t know—”

“It’s okay,” you reassured him calmly. “I’m glad I’m spending Christmas—and this whole break—with you guys.”

Dogyun zipped up his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Hey, can you check on Junhyuk before lights-out? I know you always come say goodnight to us, but look after him a little extra right now? I’m not here, so however much you look after me, give it to him.”

“I’ll look after him double.”

“Thanks, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

Dogyun’s family was already in the drive when you got outside. His parents immediately hugged him, to which he rolled his eyes, but hugged them back nevertheless. You gave all of them your holidays wishes, and waved one final time to your student as he climbed into the car.

That night, before lights-out, you checked on the boys as promised. Sungmin had climbed into Junhyuk’s bottom bunk, watching the older boy play a game on his Switch. You hovered in the doorway for a few moments, just observing them fondly. When it looked like he was between levels, you softly knocked on the open door to announce your presence.

Both of them looked up from the screen, Junhyuk setting the device down on his lap. “Hi, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Hey, guys. How are you?”

“Junhyuk was showing me a really hard level in this game! He’s really good!” Sungmin told you enthusiastically.

“Is it lights-out?” Junhyuk asked.

“No, not yet. Just popping in to say goodnight.”

Sungmin threw the blankets off him to scurry over to you, throwing his arms around your waist. “Goodnight.”

You patted the top of his head. “Night, Sungmin.”

“Can I go see my uncle for a minute?”

“Of course.”

He zipped down the hall, leaving you with the older boy. Junhyuk turned his device off and set it down. After a moment of silence, he hesitantly asked, “Can I hug you too?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” You opened your arms for him, letting him approach you uncertainly, hugging you with much more caution than Sungmin had. You squeezed him tight, patting his back, and felt him relax in your arms. “You know me and Coach Jung are right there if you need anything, right?”

He nodded, retracting from the hug as slow as he’d initiated. You offered one more reassuring smile, already hearing the hurried footsteps of Sungmin returning. The nine-year-old squeezed into the room, launching himself back onto Junhyuk’s mattress.

“One more level, Jun?” He pleaded.

Junhyuk chuckled and started gently pushing him over. “Not if you’re hogging my whole bed, Minnie. Make some room.”

Back in your room, you slowly got ready for bed, Junhyuk’s situation still weighing heavy on your mind. Emerging from the bathroom, you stopped at the foot of Sungchan’s temporary bed, where he was propped up against the pillows reading something.

“Do you know why Junhyuk’s here?” You asked.

Sungchan sighed and nodded. “Yeah, his dad’s shitty. I know we’re not supposed to talk like that about them—”

“I won’t tell.”

“—Absolutely fucking evil son of a bitch,” he groaned, snapping his book shut and mimicking like he was strangling somebody. “He’s leaving Junhyuk here over break to teach him a lesson.”

Your jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Because he wore the wrong color tie to some event.”

“What?!”

“Junhyuk told me the first day, when he was helping me with the equipment. The really sad thing is, he believes that he deserves it.”

“No…”

“Yeah,” Sungchan confirmed. “Poor kid.”

You blood boiled over in record time. “That’s not a fitting punishment at all! Doesn’t even deserve a punishment! That guy’s a dick! He doesn’t even deserve a kid as good as Junhyuk. Oh my god, he shouldn’t even fucking be a parent!”

“I told him that. Well, the first part.” He watched you pace angrily. “Junhyuk say something to you?”

“Dogyun seemed worried about him while he was gone, asked me to take extra care of him. Didn’t say why.” You bit the inside of your cheek. “Dogyun’s a good kid. Despite the…”

“Stealing sewing needles to pierce his own ears?”

“I was going to say general disregard for rules and authority that he doesn’t deem worth his time, but that too,” you chuckled.

“Same thing.”

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were remarkably quiet. Junhyuk and Sungmin mainly kept busy with indoor activities—video games, reading, and playing in the gym. As you bit into a cookie Christmas night, you thought about your mom, letting a few bittersweet tears fall.

Dogyun’s return made the school feel full again, despite the distinct lack of all other students. There was more laughter, more smiles, and more energy. He brought with him extra presents for Junhyuk and Sungmin from his family, as well as an invite for them to stay over at his family’s house for New Year’s Eve. Dogyun’s parents were one of Junhyuk’s emergency contacts alongside his own, meaning that they had pre-approved permission to sign him out. Sungchan gave his permission for Sungmin to go as well. But in the week before New Year’s, they were still yours to entertain.

“Yeti! Mountain! Yeti! Mountain!” The three boys chanted in the backseat as you passed under the sign out front of the amusement park.

Today, the five of you had woken up rather early to make the long trek to Yeti Mountain, a seasonal theme park several towns over. With the cold, dreary weather outside, you were hoping that the lines wouldn’t be too long, despite the fact that it was now just a few days from Christmas, meaning that lots of families would also be looking for something to keep their own children entertained.

“Okay, buddy system,” you reminded everyone as Sungchan passed out tickets out front of the gate. “Nobody goes off by themselves. You’re either with Coach Jung, me, or each other.”

“Yes, Ms. Y/L/N!” They agreed in unison.

The crowd was about as bad as you had imagined, and you were grateful that you had insisted they all wore their school-issued coats today, as it was easier to spot the three little blobs in matching white and maroon striped puffers among the throng of blobs in black puffers.

“Ooh! Let’s do the Polar Plunge!” Dogyun pointed ahead to a ride, and you watched as it took the strapped-in riders straight up in the air, tilted them face-down, let them dangle, then dropped them back down, slowing down just in time to not actually impact.

“Polar Plunge!” Junhyuk cheered, grabbing his friend’s hand. He turned to the other boy. “You’re coming, right, Minnie?”

“Yeah!” He nodded excitedly. “Polar Plunge!”

Junhyuk grabbed his hand too, and they all ran off towards the ride.

“You want to go?” Sungchan asked you, the two of you slowly trailing after the kids.

You wrinkled your nose and shook your head. “Nah. I like rollercoasters. Not that shit.”

“Sensible,” he snickered. “Mind holding my phone?”

Taking your hand out of your pocket, you held it out palm-up expectantly, and he plopped his phone down.

“Thanks!”

You nodded ahead at where the boys had already raced to the back of the line. “I’ll wait in line with you guys.”

“Yes! You guys are riding it too!” Junhyuk pumped his fist in the air.

“Just Coach Jung,” you informed them. “I don’t like this kind of ride.”

“We’re splitting the rides,” Sungchan added. “So if you ever don’t want to go, you’ll have one of us down here. Don’t worry about saying no, okay?”

You squeezed his arm appreciatively at the idea, and he smiled back at you.

The line slowly shuffled forward until it was finally your group’s turn to board. Promising that you’d be watching, you had just started walking away when Sungchan called your name. Turning back around, you saw that Sungmin was being taken aside to have his height measured, and despite stretching his neck out as much as possible, it was clear he wasn’t going to make the height minimum. Sungchan said a couple more words to him, and the other boys patted his back before letting him walk over to you alone, shoulders slumped.

“I wasn’t tall enough,” Sungmin informed you glumly, watching as the other three got on.

“Aw, that’s a bummer,” you led him over to a portion of the fence that surrounded the ride. “There’s more rides, this is just the first one.”

Sungchan, Dogyun, and Junhyuk were seated on the side facing you, and all waved fervently at you and Sungmin as the ride went up and up. The two of you waved back, until they were tilted forwards and could no longer see you. Your boys’ screams were distinct among the chorus of yells when it dropped, and both you and Sungmin laughed at just how loud they were.

The next ride they wanted to go on was a teacup ride modified to look like icebergs. The carts only fit four people, so you sent the kids off in one while you and Sungchan took another. You easily spotted the car with your students in it, Junhyuk and Dogyun doing their best to make it spin as fast as possible while Sungmin was squashed in between them, face absolutely lit up.

“I’m getting sick just watching them,” you snorted, maintaining the lazy pace you had started with the wheel.

“Oh, so you don’t want to…” Sungchan gripped the wheel with two hands, mischievous glint in his eyes.

“No, wait!” You squealed as he whipped the controls around, speeding up your teacup as well. While you were pushed back in your seat, Sungchan apparently hadn’t braced himself for his own act, getting thrown to the side and stumbling into you.

You were laughing as you elbowed him, “Instant punishment.”

He dropped back into the seat where he was, giggling, letting his arm that he’d used to catch himself on the seat back naturally fall to your shoulders. “My bad,” he grinned.

After a few more rides, you stopped at a food stall to get everyone snacks to eat under covered picnic benches. As the boys were engaged in their own chatter about a video game, you happily took a bite of your fresh mini-donut, still warm. Sungchan chuckled and set down the cup of hot chocolate he’d been sipping on.

“Hold on, you’ve got—” He bit the finger of his glove and pulled it off. Gently, he brushed at the corners of your mouth and chin with his fingertips, finishing his sentence, “—powdered sugar all over your face.”

“Oops,” you mumbled, looking away from his eyes, a bit too afraid what you might do if you actually met his gaze right now.

By the end of the day, you were tuckered out, fully ready to utilize the car trip back home to sleep. As your group made your way to the exit, however, you were stopped by the park employee saying goodbye to everyone.

“Hey, you folks drive in from out of town?” He asked.

“Yes, why?” Sungchan responded.

“Avalanche blocked the only road out of here. Afraid it won’t be cleared until tomorrow,” he explained. “We’re offering complimentary accommodations at the resort hotel to ticketholders who can’t leave.”

Sungchan turned to the rest of you, clapping his hands together. “Well, looks like we’re staying, then.”

At the front desk, you kept an eye on the boys as they looked around at the themed hotel decorations in awe, checking out the Christmas tree with ornaments of the titular yeti character and his many wintery friends, pictures of them on many adventures hung around, and general icicle and snow motifs. You were only half-listening to the conversation that Sungchan was having with the desk attendant as he checked you all in.

Then Sungchan was tapping your elbow. “Is that alright, Y/N?”

“Hm?” you lifted your eyebrows questioningly, looking away from your kids for a moment.

“They have two rooms left, one with two queen beds, the other is just a king,” he filled you in. “The boys will need the two beds, are you okay with us in the other room?”

You blinked maybe a little too fast, throwing on a smile and nodding. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

Emerging from your bathroom decked out head to toe in brand-new Yeti Mountain merch courtesy of the lobby gift shop, you immediately burst into laughter upon locking eyes with Sungchan, in a very similar outfit.

“We look like the biggest Yeti Mountain fans ever,” he snickered from his spot reclined on the bed, one leg crossed over the other and an arm behind his head.

“We look like that family with annual passes who take their kids here every day its open,” you snorted, walking over to the window to peer out at the theme park in the distance. Pulling the curtain aside fully, there was a small ledge with a cushion for sitting.

“We probably got married at Yeti Mountain.” Sungchan joined you at your spot, staring outside with you. His limbs were a bit long for both of you to be sharing the nook, but you didn’t complain, letting him squeeze on with you, shoulder-to-shoulder and knee-to-knee.

You laughed. “Do they even do weddings?”

“They should. A wedding reception in the Yeti Cave would be kind of sick.”

“With a disco ball and everything.”

“Now you’re talking.” He look over at you with a grin, and your breath caught in your throat.

Sure, you’d been rooming with Sungchan for almost a month now, but this was different, closer. No ocean of floor between your heads. His hair fell in his eyes, and you watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. Even the silly Yeti Mountain branded t-shirt he was in seemed to fit him remarkably well, longsleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing the prominent veins that criss-crossed his skin from his hands and up into the sleeves.

Pressure was building up in your head, it was hard to think past the white noise in your ears. You habitually wet your lips, and you didn’t miss how his eyes followed the movement. Then you were kissing him, and he was kissing you back, hand on your waist as yours was carding through his hair.

Sungchan smiled against your lips, breaking the kiss with a chuckle. He covered his face with one hand, then dropped his cheek into his palm, fixing you with a sheepish and tender smile. “Ah, I was trying to wait until spring semester started to ask you out.”

You tilted your head and arched an eyebrow, absolutely bemused at this revelation. “Wait, you were going to specifically wait until we weren’t sharing a room, and everybody in the school was back, to ask me out?”

“Yes, because I’m a gentleman like that.” He was pouting a little bit now.

You giggled, brushing his hair back from his face before cupping his cheek. “Yeah, you kind of are.”

Sungchan leaned forward, bumping your nose with his affectionately. You closed the gap, connecting your mouths once more.

“What are we going to do without them?” You sighed, getting back in the car after dropping the boys off at Dogyun’s family’s house. It was New Year’s Eve, so you would be without them for a whole twenty-four hours, and you honestly didn’t know how you’d fill your time now.

Sungchan started the car, a smirk on his face. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a surprise.”

You couldn’t help but smile as well. “I’ll just wait and see, then.”

“Why are we going to the gym right now?” You questioned as Sungchan led you down the hall of trophies by the hand.

“What? Late-night one-on-one basketball match wasn’t what you were hoping for?” He teased, bumping your shoulder with his.

“In our pajamas?”

“Just wait,” he hummed, continuing to pull you across the gymnasium, towards another set of double doors.

The two of you ended up outside his classroom, which you hadn’t been in since you set it up for movies with the kids a couple weeks ago. All of the classroom furniture that you swore he, Junhyuk, and Dogyun were supposed to be putting back in the classroom while you and Sungmin baked cookies, was still in the hallway. You gave him a skeptical look, but said nothing further, letting him open the door for you.

The sleeping mats, pillows, and blankets were set up on the floor, illuminated by the blank projector screen and strings of rainbow lights hung from the ceiling. You turned back to Sungchan, jaw dropped in delight.

“So sweet,” you gave your approval, throwing your arms around his neck.

“This time we don’t have to watch a bunch of kids movies,” he chuckled, strong arms holding you tight to him. “It’s just us.”

As you went to settle into the pillows and blanket, you gazed up at the lights thoughtfully. “Did you take these off the Christmas tree in the dining hall?”

“I technically didn’t,” he replied pointedly.

“Dogyun,” you immediately surmised.

“They’ve requested anonymity.”

“Wait, is this what you three were doing while we baked cookies?”

He held his hands up, even as he was smiling mischievously. “I can neither confirm nor deny when the alleged theft took place.”

You shook your head and laughed, pecking his cheek. “Thank you, Sungchan. And your little elves.”

Later on, you didn’t even realize that midnight had already come and gone until Sungchan was switching between movies, and you happened to glance at the time on his laptop, nearly one in the morning.

“Happy late New Year’s,” you snickered, pointing to the clock.

“Happy New Year’s.” He beamed, swooping in to capture your lips with his.

The staff and students began returning to the Moorehead Prep campus on Saturday, and the heat was turned back on in the female staff dorms, meaning that you finally got to go back to your own room. Several ladies were in your room, asking about your break while you folded your laundry that you had done ahead of everyone’s return this morning.

“It was great, the boys didn’t cause us any trouble,” you answered, well aware of what they actually wanted to know. “We went sledding, and baked cookies. We even took them to Yeti Mountain one day.”

“Oh, okay,” one of the ladies sighed, not hiding her disappointment. “Sounds nice, Y/N.”

There was a knock at the front door, and another one of your colleagues peeked out of your second-story window. She gasped and turned back to you with wide eyes. “Coach Jung is here!”

You continued folding your clothes, even as you heard Sungchan’s voice at the front door, then footsteps running up the stairs. Ms. Hyesoo didn’t even bother knocking on your wide-open door, suspicious gaze landing on you as she announced knowingly, “Coach Jung is looking for you.”

“Thanks, Ms. Hyesoo. I’ll be down in a second.”

Ignoring the clamoring around you, you tucked your final article of clothing in your drawer, and grabbed your gloves off your nightstand. You gave them all a goodbye as you hurried down the stairs. Sungchan was waiting for you on the porch, smiling down at you as you shut the door behind you.

He wordlessly took off the scarf that he was wearing, looping it around your own bare neck for you. “Ready for lunch?”

“Starving,” you answered with a grin.

⇢ 2025 hallmark movie marathon

TAGLIST

@annenakamura @bee-the-loser @dejundesign @flooftown @httpsxnox @kirrakira @lotties-readings @pandabunbuns @ppddpjdr @reiofsuns2001 @snowyseungs @tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69 @winkeuu @woozidreams

you’d be relaxed if he weren’t so damn handsome and hnn he’d smells so good too. he gestures for you to sit on his twin bed while he retrieves the goods. opens the side drawer of his desk and sits down… but he keeps looking at you even as he packs the baggie.

i’m thinking maybe the first time you go to him you’re just wanting to buy weed for yourself, you’ve smoked before but since you moved onto campus you haven’t been able to get your hands on any unless it’s at a party. beginning to feel at ease in sungchan’s presence, you get the courage to ask him if he sells anything ‘stronger’. ‘what do you mean, like a different strain?‘ he asks in response, casually explaining that he doesn’t really know the thc percentages, but he (lightheartedly) promises you that it’ll definitely get you high.

‘n-no… like… mdma..’ you mumble, voice dropping with embarrassment as you realize how silly you sound. ‘huh? you mean molly?’ he asks, raising his eyebrow at you and his lips spread into something between a grin and the start of a laugh. your face flushes with heat, palms sweating and if you didn’t feel so humiliated, frozen in place, then you’d make a run for it.

it’s like he’s enjoying how flushed and squirmy you’ve gotten, sealing the ziplock almost purposely slow. he tells you that yeah, he might have some but what do you need it for? you shrug your shoulders and explain that your friend mentioned wanting to try it, that it sounded like fun but you’ve only ever gotten high smoking weed…

‘well, start with this…’ he says, leaning forward to hand you the nugs, just to snatch it back again when you reach for it. ‘aren’t you forgetting something?’ he teases and you blink dumbly at him before you realize and fish through your sweatshirt pocket for the cash. ‘maybe you can try some at one of my parties, i can give you a sampler.’

“Bye, Ms. Y/L/N!” Your student gave you a cheery wave and goodbye as he climbed into his parents’ car. You fondly waved back to him and his family, watching until the vehicle was out of sight far beyond the school's drive.

Moorehead Prep, the boarding school that you worked and lived at, had released their students for the winter holidays, and he was the last one to be picked up. Almost all of the other staff who lived on-campus had already left as well. Only those who would be staying for the duration of the break remained. You were staying with one other staff member to watch over the handful of students who were not going home.

The empty, silent halls were eerie; you were used to them being filled with the boisterous raucous of young boys. Even on the weekends during term when they were at extracurriculars, playing outside, or visiting nearby family, it was never this quiet. Large swaths of the building had been shut off completely to make it more manageable for you to keep an eye on the children. As you walked by the one common room left open, you spotted two of your three charges reading by the fireplace.

Leaning in the doorway, you watched them for a moment fondly. The eldest, thirteen-year-old Dogyun, was sprawled across an armchair with his favorite graphic novel in hand. He fidgeted with a bandage on his left earlobe from where he’d tried to pierce his own ears just a couple days ago with a sewing needle pocketed from home economics class. Sungmin appeared to be trying to get ahead on the assigned reading for your class for next term, his history textbook propped up against the bricks marking the outer edge of the fireplace and his feet kicked up behind him as he laid on his stomach on the plush rug. Sungmin was also new to the school like you, three grades below Dogyun but four years younger, a bit small for his age and with big eyes that only served to make him look even younger.

“Sungmin,” you announced your presence, walking over towards the boys. Their heads snapped up towards you, and Sungmin gave you a sheepish look as you kneeled down next to him to gesture to his book. “We are officially on break now. This can wait.”

“I tried to tell him,” Dogyun huffed, flipping a page.

“Sorry, Ms. Y/L/N,” Sungmin muttered.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” you assured him. “I just want you to be able to enjoy your time off school, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Also, I know the headmaster said that anytime you’re on school grounds, you have to be in uniform, even on break…” You eyed the tidy uniforms that they were still wearing—although Dogyun’s tie was a little askew as usual. “But I say don’t worry about it for now. It’ll be our little secret, hm?”

Huge grins broke out on both their faces.

“Thank you, Ms. Y/L/N!” “Thanks!”

You glanced around. “Either of you know where Junhyuk is?”

Junhyuk was your third and final student that you were responsible for over the break, a twelve-year-old honor roll student and Dogyun’s roommate and best friend. They were typically fused at the hip and causing trouble, so it was a bit unusual to see them apart unless something like class schedules mandated it. Sungmin’s dorm was in the portion of the school that was closed down for break, so he was temporarily moved into the older boys’ room, taking the vacant bed of one of their dormmates who went home.

“He’s helping Coach Jung put stuff away in the gym,” Sungmin answered.

“Yeah, he said he only needed one person to help,” Dogyun added.

“Thanks.” You got to your feet and brushed off your knees. “You two need anything else from me?”

“Nope!”

“Alright, I’m going to the gym for a minute if you do. Dinner’s at the normal time.”

“Wait!” Dogyun suddenly halted your departure. “Can you tell Junhyuk that we’re gonna play Switch in our room? So whenever’s he’s done helping.”

“I’ll pass the message.”

Each step of your boots clicked and echoed around you, and as you turned down the hallway that led to the gymnasium, you took the opportunity to stop and peer into the trophy cases that lined it. Dazzling trophies and plaques of all shapes and sizes glinted, reflecting your face back at you. The dates stretched back well over a century.

One of the doors to the gym was latched open, and when you couldn’t spot either Coach Jung nor Junhyuk, you ventured in further. Your ears finally picked up distant shuffling sounds, so you followed them down a hall behind the bleachers on the opposite side of the gymnasium where a storage room door was held ajar by a chair. You grabbed the edge of the door to pull it open all the way and step around the chair.

Junhyuk was dutifully restacking cones of various sizes in one corner while Coach Jung seemed to be doing an inspection on a shelf containing every kind of sports ball known to man. He was currently turning a soccer ball over in his hands, carefully eyeing the threads and wear of the material in some areas.

“Hi, Ms. Y/L/N!” Junhyuk greeted you cheerfully.

At the boy’s words, Coach Jung looked up at you attentively, a friendly smile coming to his features. “Oh, hey. What can we do for you?”

“Just wanted to let you know that everyone’s been picked up,” you smiled back hesitantly. Turning to the boy, you continued, “Also, Dogyun asked me to tell you that, once you’re done helping Coach Jung, the other two will be playing Switch in your room if you’d like to join.”

Junhyuk focused wide, hopeful eyes on Coach Jung. “I finished the cones! What else do you need help with, sir?”

“That was the last thing, Junhyuk,” Coach Jung chuckled. “You can go.”

“Thank you!”

You stepped back so he could dart around you out of the room. Leaving just you and Coach Jung. He dropped the soccer ball at his feet, nudged it over to a pile of them that seemed in a similar rough condition, then grabbed another off the shelf to continue his inspection, while you suffered awkwardly in the silence, watching him.

You didn’t know Coach Jung very well. This was your first year at the school, not to mention your classroom was on the opposite side of the school from the gymnasium, and while you both technically lived on the school grounds, only male teachers lived in the dormitories with the students. Female staff had a separate living quarters, so you never crossed paths with him outside typical school hours either. You had only met him in passing at the beginning of the year with the rest of the teachers, and last week in the brief meeting with the headmaster in preparation for your staying through Winter Break. But you’d heard plenty about him. He was beloved by the students both as their physical education teacher and as the coach of several school sports teams. And he was also a regular topic of gossip around the female staff dorms. While you were the youngest in the women’s quarters by at least two decades, the older ladies still enjoyed a good piece of eye candy when he’d lead the running club on a jog around the grounds before breakfast, or help one of them carry something heavy. The delighted tittering when they found out that it would just be you and Coach Jung here for Winter Break was ceaseless until the last of your housemates finally left.

“Did you need something else, Ms. Y/L/N?” Coach Jung asked.

“Oh, I got our keys from the secretary.” You held up the two sets of keys that you’d been given which would grant you access to all the necessary facilities for the next month. “Do you want me to leave your set in your office, or…?”

“I’ll take them now, thanks.” He stepped towards you, hand outstretched.

You dropped the keyring into his palm with a light clink, and he pocketed them. “Also, I uh, I already told the boys they didn’t have to worry about uniform code for the next month. Hope that’s okay with you.”

“Oh, pff, yeah.” He waved a dismissive hand, eyes focused once more on the equipment. “The least of my concerns on any given day is whether or not they’re wearing the right kind of sock, much less on Christmas.”

“That was my thinking!”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

“And, uhm—” You coughed, looking around at anything but him. “You can just call me Y/N when we’re not around the kids.”

He let out an airy chuckle, “Will do. You can call me Sungchan.”

“Oh, right.” You bit your lip to stop from laughing but your nerves still made words pour out, “Please don’t be too offended but I kind of forgot your name. I’m pretty sure you introduced yourself at the beginning of the year all-staff meeting but since then, I’ve really only heard people call you Coach Jung…”

Sungchan laughed loudly, nodding in agreement. “As soon as you came in here, I realized I couldn’t remember your name. I was going to look it up in the staff directory after you left.”

“So we’re really on the same page,” you chuckled. “Is it your first year, too?”

“No, fifth.”

“Okay, I definitely feel a lot better knowing I’m not doing this with another rookie.”

“I’ll take you under my wing. Promise.” He grinned, and oddly enough, his confidence actually did calm your anxiety about the whole thing.

“Well how about, between us, no stupid questions?” You proposed hesitantly. “Instead of looking names up in the staff directory behind each other’s backs or whatever, we just ask? I think it’ll make the next month go much easier, right?”

“I think so too,” he agreed easily. “Just ask.”

“I’ll let you get back to what you were doing.” You gestured vaguely to the storage room. “I’m going to check on the boys and then probably be in the library until dinner.”

“One more thing before you go.” Sungchan brought out his cell phone from his pocket. “Probably be a good idea to have each other’s numbers.”

The kitchen staff were also gone for the holiday break, but had prepared refrigerated and frozen meals. A stipend was also left that could be spent on groceries or off-campus meals if you wanted. The dining hall felt far too large for just the five of you, so you took your reheated food to the common room to eat instead.

“So, what do you boys want to do on break?” You asked as you were all sat around one table together. “Within reason. Give us some ideas, and Coach Jung and I will see what we can do.”

“Right now, we’re looking at one or two off-campus activities a week,” Sungchan added from his seat beside you. “And bringing some fun here if we can.”

“You don’t have to answer now. Think about it.”

“Can we go skating on the pond?” Junhyuk requested.

“Ooh, what about sledding?” Dogyun said.

“We should build igloos on the soccer field!”

“And sleep in them!”

“I bet the Willow Hill is tall enough to ski from!”

“My uncle took me ice fishing one time! Coach Jung, do you think Mr. Suh would mind if we took some tools from woodshop to carve a hole into the pond?”

Both you and Sungchan chuckled, your coworker taking the lead in answering, “He’d probably be more upset that you cut a hole in the pond ice without him.”

“What about you, Sungmin?” You prompted the youngest, who hadn’t joined in the discussion yet.

He looked up from his food, big eyes getting a little bigger. “I thought you said we could think about it…”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” you apologized, patting his head fondly. “I didn’t mean to pressure you. Take your time.”

Upon returning to the female staff dorms, you immediately noticed that something was wrong. You weren’t embraced by warm air after the cold, arduous journey from the main building. The difference in temperature was barely noticeable. Investigating the thermostat, you found that it was set to what should’ve been a toasty temperature.

With a sigh, you dialed the after-hours maintenance line for the school. After three calls going to voicemail, you let out a huff of frustration, which came out as a white cloud in the chilly air. Begrudgingly, you threw a few necessities into a bag, then trudged back to the main building once more.

Spotting light streaming out from under a door at the end of the dorm hall you were in, you shuffled over and knocked. You’ve only been in the dorm halls twice, once on an informal tour during your interview, and the second on a brief tour during your orientation. From what you remembered, the teachers’ rooms were at the beginning and end of each hall.

“Hold on!” Sungchan’s voice called out from within, and after a few moments, he opened the door. He clearly hadn’t been expecting you, blinking down at you. “Y/N. Thought you were one of the boys. Is everything okay?”

“The heat’s out in my dorm,” you explained. “Nobody picked up when I called maintenance.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, so I was just gonna—”

“Oh, yeah, come on in.” He stepped back and opened the door wider.

You slowly pointed over your shoulder. “—sleep in the common room… on the couch.”

“Right.” He coughed. “I mean, whatever you’re comfortable with. I’ve got an extra bed since Shotaro’s out. Or actually, you can stay in here and I’ll sleep in the common room.”

He was already reaching to grab a blanket off a bed, holding the door open with his foot.

“I didn’t come to take over your room,” you stopped him with a laugh. “You think Shotaro would mind?”

“Nah, I’ll take his bed.” Sungchan threw the blanket back and once again moved out of the doorway for you to go in.

You hesitated in the hallway, however. “Wait—Do you think this is okay? I’m not supposed to even be in your room.”

“Actually, I’m not supposed to be in your room,” he informed you with a grin. “There’s technically no rule against you being here.”

“What? Why wouldn’t they make it the same?”

He shrugged. “They forgot? Figured it’d be harder to have hookups with kids knocking down your door every night? I don’t know.”

“Thanks, Sungchan.” You smiled, ducking into the room. As he closed the door behind you, you took stock of the room. It was a little larger than the student rooms, with an attached bathroom and two beds in opposite corners. Each of them also had a nightstand, desk, chair, and dresser. Sungchan’s roommate was Shotaro, the dance teacher, and you spotted a couple pictures of him and his family on one of the desks.

He fetched a couple more blankets from his under-bed storage and handed them to you. “Just washed these yesterday.”

“I feel so special,” you joked, waiting for him to take the bedding off his bed and toss it onto Shotaro’s.

“Who do you room with?” He made conversation as you settled in, toeing off your winter boots and setting your bag down.

“Oh, nobody. We have individual rooms.”

“Lucky,” he huffed.

“Only two showers, though.”

“In the whole building?”

“Yeah, well, it’s just one of the old headmasters’ houses that they renovated.” You sat down on the edge of the mattress. Pulling out your phone and charging cable, you plugged it into an outlet next to the nightstand. “Ms. Hyesoo is very strict about the shower schedule so nobody uses up all the hot water. When you first start at the school, she times all your showers until she thinks you can be trusted.”

“Wait, seriously?!” Sungchan’s mouth was agape.

“Yup. And if you’re not new and she suspects you’re taking too long, she’ll start timing you again.”

“Who made her president of the shower?”

“I’m pretty sure she did,” you chuckled, scooting up towards the headboard and draping the blanket over your lap. “I mean, I think it is important that nobody hogs all the hot water so everyone can use it. And she’s technically like, in charge of the female staff dorms so I guess if she thinks this is necessary…”

“Okay, well for the next month, take as long as you want,” he scoffed.

You laid down on your side, pulling the blanket up over your shoulder. “I appreciate that.”

He reached up for the lightswitch by the door. “Lights out?”

“Ready.”

With a flick of his fingers, the room was plunged into darkness. You could hear Sungchan settling in on his side of the room. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you called out softly, “Sungchan?”

“Yeah?”

“Seriously, thanks for doing this with me. I already told you it’s my first year here, but it’s also my first year teaching at all. I took all these extra online certification courses, even after they told me I got the job. I just want to be the best for the kids, you know?”

“You know much about Mr. Shin? He used to teach your class.”

“Bits and pieces. He retired, right?”

“Yeah. And this is the first year I actually hear kids excited to go to their history classes. Telling me about the cool stuff they’re learning.”

You smiled to yourself, rubbing your socked feet together under the covers. “Aw, yay.”

“You’ll keep learning. The fact that you want to do all that for them already gives you a good start,” he added.

“Thanks, Sungchan.”

“Anytime.” He yawned, “Mm, goodnight.”

“Night,” you replied, shutting your eyes.

It wasn’t until Monday that you heard back from anybody regarding the heat in the women’s building. The head groundskeeper finally called you back, apologetically informing you that the heat in that building was scheduled to shut off for every winter break and he hadn’t been informed to keep it on this year. He offered to drive in to turn it back on for you, letting you know that it wouldn’t be until this afternoon since he lived several hours away, and you gratefully declined his offer. He was on break, too, and it seemed like far too big of an inconvenience at this point. You would just tough it out in the main building for the month.

The boys had asked to go sledding for their first winter activity, which was an easy enough request. Sungchan dug out a few old snow sleds from an equipment shed on the grounds while you inspected the boys’ gear and gave them a thorough safety lecture before even letting them step foot out of their dorm room. Now, you and Sungchan watched them take off from the top of the Willow Hill, sleds careening down through the snow before skidding to a stop nearby. Then they’d leap to their feet and run all the way back up, dragging the sleds behind them.

“Looks fun,” you commented as the three kids all piled onto one sled together, Sungmin sandwiched between the two older boys.

“You want to go?” Sungchan offered, gesturing to the other two sleds forgotten at the bottom of the hill.

“Last time I was in charge of my own sled, I knocked both my front teeth out,” you admitted sheepishly.

“Ouch,” he chuckled. “How about I drive, then? If you’re cool with that.”

“When’s the last time you drove a sled, exactly?”

“Last winter. Why do you think we have them on campus? We use them for Winter Field Day in January.”

You held up your hands in deference. “My apologies, I shouldn’t have doubted your skills.”

Despite your offer to help, Sungchan hauled the bright orange sled uphill by himself. Willow Hill was named for a willow tree that used to sit at the top of it. All that was left of the tree was a short stump that was now almost completely buried in snow.

“What happened to it?” You questioned, staring at the stump. “The willow?”

“Oh, uhm, it died. They had to cut it down,” he replied, lips pursing in a thoughtful frown. “Can’t remember why it died, though. It was way before I worked here.”

“Huh. I’ll ask Ms. Hyesoo after break. I bet she knows.”

“If anybody is going to know, it’s her or the headmaster,” he agreed with a chuckle. Switching trains of thought, he dropped the sled onto the ground and gestured to it, “So, you’ll be in front and hold onto the tie. Lean when I lean. I’ll tell you which way, okay?”

You nodded. “Seems easy enough.”

He held the sled in place while you got settled into the front, then climbed into the back himself. His long legs stretched forward on either side of you, his chest was nearly flush to your back, and he readjusted to be able to properly see over you.

“Good?” He checked in with you.

“Mhm.” You held on tightly to the rope anchored to the front of the sled.

“Y/N—Sorry—You’ve got to lean back on me. If you’re sitting forward like that and we hit a rock you’re going to go flying.”

“Shit, okay, when you put it like that,” you laughed and did as he instructed. Now fully reclined on him, you looked over your shoulder to ask, “That better?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Much uh, safer.”

“Can you see?”

“Yeah, more than—more than before.”

“Oh, good.”

“Good.”

“So, are we ready to go?”

“What?”

“Go down the hill? Sled?”

Sungchan smiled a little. “Yeah, of course. Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you determined. “Do I get a countdown?”

“Are you holding onto the tie?”

“Well, yeah.”

“One—” And with a great shove, he launched your sled off the top of the hill. The cold air bit at your cheeks and nose as you sped downhill, white flurries of snow flew up on either side of the sled, and abundant, uncontrollable laughter tumbled from your mouth. When you felt one particularly large bump under the sled bottom, you let out a half-yelp half-giggle and clutched Sungchan’s leg, your other hand keeping a death grip on the rope. He let go of his handrail on that side of the sled to hold you down by your arm.

“Left!” He called out, and you could hear the giddiness in his own tone with the command. Both of you leaned left, and the sled successfully veered left away from a small log.

At the bottom of the hill, the sled eventually came to a stop, and you let out a sigh of relief.

“There. Made it in one piece,” Sungchan teased, patting the top of your head.

“That was a lot of fun,” you said through breathless sputters, starting to sit up to get ready to climb up out of the sled.

“Want to go again?”

Before you could answer, Dogyun and Junhyuk swarmed you, clambering trying to call dibs as to who would ride with Sungchan next.

“Hold on, let Ms. Y/L/N and me get up first, okay?” He shooed them back. The coach hauled himself out of the sled, and you suddenly were scrambling to stay upright without him behind you. He didn’t leave you floundering for long, offering two hands to help you up, making sure you were steady on your feet before turning to the boys. “Alright, now, one at a time—”

Having already noticed the distinct lack of Sungmin with the others, you turned around in place, scanning the snowy hills for him. Thankfully he wasn’t very far, at the top of Willow Hill, sitting on the stump and seemingly watching the rest of you at the foot. Dogyun was holding a red sled, and Junhyuk a purple one, so you knew Sungmin didn’t have one. You waved at him. He waved back.

Hiking your way back up, you approached the boy curiously. “Hey.”

“Hi, Ms. Y/L/N,” he peered up at you from under the brim of his beanie.

“You forgot your sled. Unless you were planning on rolling down like a log.” You tucked your arms into your chest and mimicked doing so.

He giggled at you before shaking his head. “No, I just wanted to sit up here.”

“You can see a lot up here,” you commented, appreciating the sports fields, pond, and school buildings all laid out around you. “Mind if I sit with you?”

“You can.” Sungmin scooted over on the wide stump to make room for you.

“Thank you.”

“I’ve been thinking about what I want to do on break. Can we go to a movie theater?”

There was a small town nearby that school personnel would sometimes make trips to, but you didn’t know off the top of your head whether or not it had a movie theater. If it didn’t, the next biggest town was much, much further. But you weren’t going to write off his request so hastily. “I’ll look into it, Sungmin. What kind of movie do you want to see?”

“Mmm… I don’t know. I like all kinds of movies.”

You chuckled a little. “Good point. Movies are cool. I’ll see what our options are. Any other ideas?”

“No. Did you know some fish hibernate?”

“I did not know that.”

He pointed to the pond. “I asked Mr. Lee what happens to the fish when the water freezes and he told me.”

“Very interesting. Thanks for telling me.”

“Did you know that some fish hibernate?”

Sungchan poked his head out of the bathroom to affix you with a confused look, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. “Huh?”

“When lakes and stuff freeze over, some fish will hibernate,” you reiterated seriously from where you were sitting cross-legged on your bed.

He finished brushing, spat out his toothpaste, and rinsed his toothbrush before shutting the lights off. Lumbering back into the bedroom, he stopped next to your bed, arms folded over his chest, head cocked, and face absolutely bewildered as he asked, “What?”

“Sungmin was telling me about it today.” You typed away on your laptop.

“Okay, that makes more sense now.”

“He wants to go to a movie theater, but the closest one is like five hours away,” you huffed.

“…To see a movie about fish hibernation?”

“What? No. I mean, he’d probably like that, but I doubt there’s actually a movie like that showing.”

“Of course, my bad.”

“He said he’d see any movie, but there’s no movie theater in town. Look.” You pushed your laptop to the side, off one leg.

He took the cue and sat down next to you on the mattress, taking your computer into his lap. Two of his long fingers swiped and tapped across the trackpad. He alternated pursing his lips and rolling the bottom one between his teeth as he also evaluated the lack of cinema options in your area. Finally, he clicked his tongue against the back of his front teeth.

“Damn, the Cineplex must have closed down since last year,” he sighed. “There used to be this tiny chain cinema like, an hour from here. Mrs. Kang organized field trips there every semester.”

The mention of Mrs. Kang, the film teacher, gave you an idea. You might not be able to bring the kids to the movies, but you could try your best to bring the experience of the movies to them.

“Hold on—There’s projectors in every classroom,” you started explaining your plan to Sungchan. “Take out the desks and chairs, bring in some pillows and blankets, get some popcorn… We’ve got our own movie theater right here.”

“Yes, that’s perfect!” He held a hand up for you to high-five.

“My classroom is in one of the wings that’s locked up right now, so we’ll need to borrow someone else’s…”

“We can use mine.”

“Wait, you have a classroom?”

“Physical education has a classroom, yes,” he chuckled. “We’ve got pencils and everything.”

You sheepishly tried to backpedal, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine, Y/N,” he reassured you, knocking his knee against yours. “It’s in a random hallway in the gym. Nobody knows it’s there. But it has a projector.”

“Okay, if I take the boys to the store to pick out snacks and stuff, would that be enough time for you to set up your classroom? Or do you need my help?”

“Nah. I’ve got set-up, you’re on snacks.”

The next night, you got back from your short trip into town with all three boys in tow and bags of snacks in hand. You took the snacks with you as you sent them to get changed out of their heavy winter clothes. As you headed off towards your own temporary quarters, you texted Sungchan.

[you: just got back. is everything ready?]

You set the bags of snacks down on your bed before pulling your parka off to hang up. The bathroom door opened then, and your friendly greeting got stuck in your throat. Humid air came out along with Sungchan, a towel tied around his waist and damp hair hanging over his forehead.

He skidded to a stop just past the threshold, alarmed. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t hear you come back.”

“No, it’s fine, I didn’t hear you either, sorry,” you apologized, trying to keep your eyes on anything except the beads of water tracing the contours of his bare chest as they rolled down, down, down, and disappeared into the towel.

“I uh, forgot pants,” he pointed to the dresser on his side of the room—the one you were currently occupying—shuffling his way over there.

Keeping one hand where the towel was tied, he flipped his wet hair out of his eyes with the other before opening a drawer and rifling through it. With him turned away from you, you took the opportunity to look a little more directly at him, at the way his back and shoulders subtly flexed and shifted with every movement. When he righted himself, clothing secured in his hand, you hastily looked away, back down at the bags of snacks as if you had been attending to something important with them the whole time.

Sungchan reemerged from the bathroom fully dressed, toweling off his hair, “Everything go okay when you were out?”

“Yeah, the boys were great,” you told him. “Your room all set up?”

“Yep. You ready?”

“Ready.”

He tilted his head. “…In your snow boots?”

You shook your head, embarrassed. “Right. Uhm, give me a minute to change.”

“I’ll grab the boys and meet you in the hall.”

Sungchan’s classroom was, in fact, in a random hallway in the gymnasium. The hallway outside contained the desks and chairs that used to be inside, and sleeping mats were now spread out on the floor of the small room, pillows and blankets piled up on top of them. You had all each brought your own blankets and other various items for comfort, but this looked plenty cozy on its own. While the kids immediately jumped on the mound of blankets and pillows, you went with Sungchan over to his laptop that was hooked up to the projector.

“You did good,” you complimented him, fondly watching the boys paying around and wrestling. “This is perfect.”

“It was your good idea.” He bumped your hip with his. “I just executed it.”

“This was better than I imagined. A-plus execution.”

“We’re a pretty good team, huh?” Sungchan grinned, pulling up the first movie.

With the first movie started, everyone started actually settling in. You were readjusting pillows and blankets while Sungchan took it upon himself to begin distributing the snacks. “Sungmin…” he held the chocolate covered pretzels out.

“Thanks, Coach Jung,” Sungmin accepted the bag.

“Who got the sour gummy worms?”

“Me!” Dogyun called out. Sungchan tossed them to him.

“Mini peanut butter cups?”

“Me!” Junhyuk answered.

“And these are mine, so this must be yours.” He passed out the final two snacks, his pick and yours.

You accepted it from him graciously. “Thank you.”

Your students all quieted down as the movie started, splitting their snacks between them in quiet agreement. As they readjusted and got comfortable during the course of the movie, you scooted around as well to give them more room. But when you accidentally knocked your hand against Sungchan’s under a blanket, you realized that you had slowly been scooting closer into his personal space in the process.

“Sorry,” you whispered, taking your hand back and preparing to move away.

“It’s fine,” he replied quietly. “You’re fine there, don’t worry.”

Trying to ignore the heat rising on your cheeks, you stared at the screen in front of you, staying put and letting your leg fall and relax against his.

“Hey, you boys almost ready?” You asked into the open door of the boys’ dorm room. Junhyuk and Dogyun were inside lacing up their snowboots.

Junhyuk handed you a pair of small gloves. “Minnie forgot these, can you go give them to him? Dogyun takes forever to get ready.”

“Yeah, because you were hogging—”

“I’ll give them to him,” you cut off the beginnings of their bickering. “Thanks, Junhyuk.”

Snow soccer was on the schedule today—what exactly that entailed, you still weren’t sure, but the boys would apparently explain everything once you started. So you began the trek out to the soccer fields. Fresh snow was beginning to fall, and you wondered if this would benefit or ruin the snow soccer plans. Two others were already there, Sungchan and Sungmin. You had just raised your hand, preparing to wave, when you realized that something was wrong. It sounded like Sungmin was yelling, upset. Your friendly greeting died in your throat as you dropped your hand and picked up your pace.

“I just want you to leave me alone!” He seemed to be yelling at Sungchan, little, bare hands balled into fists at his side. Sungchan, for his part, wasn’t engaging. He didn’t seem to be reacting at all, still as a statue and mouth dropped open. “I never want to talk to you ever again! You’re always doing this! You’re-You’re such a—such a asshole!”

“Jung Sungmin!” You finally stopped him, stepping in between the two. Keeping your voice level but stern, you told him, “That’s enough. Go to your dorm and take a breather. Don’t leave your room until you and I have talked, okay?”

The boy’s face was completely pink, tears welling up in his eyes. But more than anything, he was angry. You’d never seen him more than annoyed, never say anything harsher than ‘dumb,’ so this entire situation was leagues out of your comprehension.

Sungmin didn’t say anything more, turning on his heel and storming off towards the building. You watched him for another minute to make sure he made it inside before pivoting on the adult still with you.

“That’s your idea of deescalation and conflict resolution, Sungchan?” You questioned, eyes wide.

Sungchan was still frozen to the spot, eyes glued to where Sungmin had just been standing. “He…”

Utterly flabbergasted, you looked between Sungchan and the school building. “Sungmin’s the sweetest kid ever, I can’t imagine anything getting him that worked up.”

“It’s my fault.”

“What?”

“It’s his first Christmas without his mom.” He offered an explanation, his voice hollow. “He doesn’t want to be here.”

“He wants to be home with her,” you said softly. Your heart broke with the realization. While the reasons the three students were staying over break hadn’t been disclosed to you, you knew they weren’t going to be good. “No other family?”

Sungchan gestured to himself, the defeat apparent on his face. “You’re looking at it. He’s my nephew.”

That did catch you off-guard. While you were aware they shared a surname, it wasn’t a terribly uncommon one, and definitely not enough to suspect any sort of relation between them. Especially since neither had ever alluded to it. “Why did you stay here with him instead of going home?”

“I don’t have anywhere to take him. I live here during the school year, and I used to stay with my sister and Sungmin for the couple months during the summer in between.”

You nodded, noticing the redness around Sungchan’s eyes too. While there was more that you wanted to say, Dogyun and Junhyuk were coming out of the school building, and you still had to talk to Sungmin. Patting his shoulder, you said, “I’m going to check on Sungmin.”

“Thanks,” he sighed, sniffing and trying to quickly compose himself.

Passing by the older boys, you saw the solemn looks on their faces and figured they had encountered Sungmin. You shook the snow off you as you walked through the empty, quiet halls. The light poured out of the open door to the boys’ dorm room, and you stopped at the threshold. Sungmin was sitting on the bottom bunk of one of the two bunk beds, staring at his feet that were dangling over the edge.

“Hey, Sungmin,” you greeted him calmly. “Are you ready to talk? Or do you need a few more minutes?”

“You can come in,” he mumbled.

“Thank you.” You stepped into the room. “May I sit with you?”

He shrugged, and you took that as a yes, positioning yourself at the foot of his bed. The boy huffed, refusing to meet your eyes as he suddenly began rambling, “I shouldn’t have yelled at him, or said a bad word. He’s my teacher, I should be respectful, I know. I’ll apologize.”

“That’s all true,” you acquiesced. “Are you okay?”

“He told you, didn’t he?” He messed with a loose thread on his sweater. “About my mom… That she…”

“He did. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

Sungmin’s shoulders jumped as he hiccupped, and you could see that tears had finally begun falling down his cheeks, wetting his lap. You stayed put, not wanting to crowd or overwhelm him.

“Where do you feel it? The sadness?” You asked him quietly.

He pointed to the middle of his chest. “H-Here.”

“Good job,” you praised him quietly. Breathing in, you asked, “Can I tell you something?”

He nodded.

“It’s my first Christmas without my mom, too,” you admitted. Sungmin finally looked up at you, his tear-stained face giving you a sinking feeling of déjà vu in the pit of your stomach. You continued, “I miss her all the time. It’s okay to miss her, and feel sad, and all sorts of stuff. It hurts, right?”

“A lot. Right here,” his voice trembled as he patted himself on the chest once more. Then, he curled both of his hands into fists in his lap. “I want it to stop.”

“I know, Sungmin, I know. When you hurt inside, you should talk about it, not try to make somebody else hurt more than you.” You felt for him, terribly. “It won’t make it stop immediately, but it makes it easier.”

“I-I’m also mad. A lot,” he confessed, eyes seeking your face. “A-At him.”

“At Coach Jung?” You were careful to only address Sungchan the way that you’ve heard Sungmin address him.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I mean, like, I was mad because he told me to go back inside and get my gloves but like, I wasn’t really mad because he told me to get my gloves. My hands were cold. I think… maybe I was mad he was telling me what to do. Like he really cares.”

You tilted your head thoughtfully. “You think he doesn’t care about you?”

“…No, I don’t think that,” Sungmin huffed, his shoulders deflating. He was no longer actively sobbing, the odd stray tear slipping down his cheek. “I’m just being mean again.”

“It takes practice.”

“What does? Not being mean?”

“Being a person. You’ll be practicing your whole life,” you informed him. “Everyone else is too. It’s everyone’s first time being a person.”

“He’s my uncle.” Sungmin got up, shuffling over to where a suitcase was sitting atop one of the dressers, opening one of the front pockets. He sat down right next to you to show them to you. They were custom Christmas cards that a family would mass-order every year to send out to their entire address book, each one featuring a big picture of Sungmin, Sungchan, and a woman—Sungmin’s mom. Sungmin pointed to Sungchan in the picture from last year. “Coach Jung. Well, he’s really my Uncle Sungchan. I-I didn’t want anybody to know at school, so I stopped calling him Uncle Sungchan. During the summer he always came and lived with us—me and my mom. He told me stories about the cool school where he worked, and I used to beg Mom to send me here…” His voice cracked, and he snapped his head up to you, eyes wide with panic. “You don’t think that’s why…?”

You couldn’t imagine what came next. “Why what?”

“Because I wanted to come here? And now I am? I didn’t mean it like that, I just—”

“Oh, Sungmin, no, no. Of course not,” you quickly reassured him, rubbing his back to soothe his breathing that had quickened again. “I know sometimes we want to find reasons to blame bad things on ourselves, because it makes it easier to understand, or because then we think maybe we could stop something like it in the future. But this isn’t your fault.”

He visibly relaxed again, but kept staring at the pictures on the cards pensively. As he flipped through them, you saw they went back to his first Christmas, an infant in a candy-cane printed onesie in his mom’s arms as Sungchan happily wrapped an arm around them both, beaming at the camera. It wasn’t professionally taken like the more recent ones, just a selfie taken on a couch.

With an idea forming in your mind, you said, “Every Christmas, I used to help my mom bake cookies to give out to our neighbors. Do you want to make some with me this year?”

Finally, something other than sorrow—interest—flashed across Sungmin’s face. He nodded.

“Perfect, thank you,” you smiled. “I need a taste tester, after all.”

He giggled a little at this.

“Since you’re helping me, is there something you and your mom used to do every Christmas that we can do?”

Sungmin sniffled and nodded. “We-We made Christmas cookies, and would put like, sprinkles and stuff on them.”

“I can totally make that happen,” you promised.

“Junhyuk and Dogyun will want to do it too.” After a beat, he added, “Uncle Sungchan, too.”

“Absolutely. All five of us.”

He rested his head on your shoulder, looking at his pictures again. “Yeah.”

“Yeah…” You echoed, squeezing his shoulder tight, to remind him you were there. Your other hand brought out his gloves that were still in your pocket, handing them over to him, “Your friends wanted to make sure you had these.”

“I’m not ready for snow soccer yet, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Snow soccer can wait for whenever you’re ready. They’ll understand.”

When Sungmin finally felt ready, he tucked his pictures away again, and the two of you set back off outside. The snow hadn’t let up while you were inside, and way out on the soccer field, you saw Junhyuk and Dogyun throwing a soccer ball back and forth while Sungchan watched on from further away.

“Hey!” Sungmin waved a gloved hand at them, jumping up and down.

“Minnie!” Junhyuk waved back.

Sungmin ran ahead of you to his friends, and you made your way over to Sungchan. He watched the kids interacting, and you knew he was desperately looking for any hint as to Sungmin’s mental state.

“He’s okay,” you told him. “I’ll tell you about it after dinner?”

“Good idea.” He nodded. Moving his gaze to you, he added genuinely, “Thanks, Y/N.”

“Let’s play snow soccer!” Dogyun announced loudly, to the cheers of the other two. “We need you guys, too!”

Locking eyes with Sungchan, both of you smiled, before you agreed enthusiastically, “Alright, let’s play snow soccer!”

Snow soccer, it turns out, was soccer that you played in the snow. The biggest difference, perhaps, was that it was harder to kick the ball through the layer of freshly fallen snow, and that the lines on the field were rendered entirely useless by the fact that you couldn’t see them under said snow. But it was fun anyway, the five of you running around until the sun was going down and the lights over the field clicked on. Your nose was frozen off by the time hunger finally pulled the boys off the field and inside. They spent all dinner exchanging ideas about what other sports could be better played in the snow, then it was bedtime.

As soon as the door to your room was shut, the air grew heavy. Sungchan plopped down on his bed—his real one, the one that you had been using. You sat next to him.

“I’m sorry about your sister, Sungchan,” you broached the subject head-on. So far, all of the focus had been on Sungmin’s loss, you wondered if Sungchan had even stopped and let himself grieve too.

“Thanks,” he whispered, wringing his hands together. Clearing his throat, he asked, “You said Sungmin’s good?”

“We talked about how he’s feeling. He showed me pictures of his mom—your Christmas cards.”

“When our parents found out she was pregnant, they disowned her. She wasn’t married.”

“That’s horrible…”

“I was the only one in our whole family who kept talking to her. That’s how he ended up with me. I didn’t think bringing him around to family Christmas now would help any. They’re strangers to him.” His voice was tight, and he let out a shaky breath. Rubbing his face, he continued, “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She wanted to do all this stuff—She was so smart.”

“Sungmin’s really bright,” you commented lightly.

“Yeah, he is.” He smiled faintly. “He called me ‘Uncle Sungchan’ again, just now when we were saying goodnight. Thank you for whatever you said to him. All those online certificates seem to have paid off.”

“Wasn’t exactly in the online trainings…” You confessed hesitantly. “I told him this was my first Christmas without my mom too.”

“Shit, Y/N…” Sungchan breathed out, the bittersweet smile immediately falling from his face. He hugged you. “I’m so sorry.”

“My dad passed when I was a baby. It was just me and my mom for my whole life. Now it’s just me,” you muttered against his shoulder, tears beginning to eke out the corners of your eyes. With a cynical chuckle, you said, “I haven’t told anybody else this, but the reason I volunteered to stay here over break is so I wouldn’t be alone on Christmas. It’s a bit pathetic, isn’t it?”

“No, not at all,” he reassured you, hand cradling the back of your head. “Honestly, I probably could’ve taken him somewhere—rented a place for the month, I don’t know—but I was afraid of it being just the two of us on Christmas. Thought the other boys would give him something else to do than be sad, you know?”

“They’ve kept us pretty busy,” you giggled.

“For sure,” he agreed humorously.

“Sungmin told me that every Christmas, they used to make and decorate cookies. I promised we would all do that.”

“It’s a good idea. Thanks, Y/N.”

You and Sungchan were still hugging each other, and with your tears subsiding, you began pulling away to dab at your eyes with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “You’re doing really good, Sungchan,” you sniffled, and patted his forearm. “With Sungmin. You’ll keep learning.”

He turned his hand over, catching yours and holding it. “You’re good with them too. All of them.”

Your chest was suddenly too tight around your heart, and you couldn’t say anything, so you squeezed his hand back instead.

“I’m here if you need me, for whatever. Even after break,” he said as he began standing up, still holding onto your hand.

“Of course. You took me under your wing, remember?” You choked out a joke.

He smiled fondly. “Of course.”

Letting your hand slip from his, he crossed over to the other bed and pulled the covers back to get under them. You were oddly cold as you went to sleep that night, blankets tight around you, thinking again about how warm Sungchan’s arms were around you.

The five of you were in the dining hall for the first time that break. The long tables afforded plenty of space to spread out the many, many cookie decorating supplies you’d procured especially for today. Yesterday, you and Sungmin had baked batches and batches of cookies—five people was simply too many to have in the kitchen helping out at once, so you sent the other three to find something to do. Now that the cookies were all cool, it was time to decorate them.

“How’d you do that?” Sungmin gasped, staring at one of Junhyuk’s cookies, which had gel food colorings swirled through the white frosting.

“Here, I’ll show you, Minnie,” Junhyuk offered, putting the cookie he was currently working on down.

You smiled to yourself, continuing to carefully place snowflake sprinkles on your cookie. Sungchan peered over at your work. “What’s going on there?”

“It’s Apollo 8, the first manned mission to the moon.” You gestured to your surprisingly legible rocketship piped on with gel icing, then at the pearl sprinkle you’d put next to it. “That’s the moon.”

He laughed, pointing to the snowflake sprinkles that you were still dutifully adding. “I’m not the science teacher, but I don’t think it snows in space.”

“Neither am I.” You wrinkled your nose at him in jest. “I took creative liberties. It entered orbit around the moon on Christmas Eve.”

“Well when you’re done, I need those sprinkles.” He nudged his work over towards you for you to look. You could parse out a shaky stick figure, and another circle next to one of its feet. “My snow soccer is missing some snow.”

“That looks like a volleyball to me.”

“You’re right, hold on.” He picked the black icing back up, adding a few dots inside the empty white circle. “Better?”

“Much.” You pushed the container of sprinkles over to him. “All yours.”

“You guys made a lot of cookies,” he commented, eyeing the other containers of treats that you still hadn’t decorated. “There’s only five of us.”

“Got a bit carried away,” you admitted sheepishly. “But they’re really good!”

“Ooh, I haven’t tried one yet, hold on.” He grabbed an undecorated cookie and bit into it. His eyebrows shot up, and he nodded appreciatively as he wolfed down the rest of it. “Mm, I don’t think we’ll have any problem finishing these, actually.”

“You’ve got crumbs all over your face now.”

“Oops.” He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You missed some.” You tsked, grabbing a clean napkin and brushing the rest off his cheek.

He beamed. “Thanks.”

With a flutter in your chest, you returned to decorating cookies.

The next day was Christmas Eve, and Dogyun was heading home. This had always been part of the plan, in your briefing from the headmaster. While he was staying at the school for Winter Break as a whole, he’d be with his family on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. They lived in the nearby town and were driving over to pick him up soon.

As you watched over the boy haphazardly throwing things into an overnight bag, you couldn’t help your curiosity, and cautiously asked, “Were they out of town? Your family?”

“Nah,” Dogyun answered bluntly. “We live right there.”

“Oh. Of course.”

“Junhyuk’s dad made him stay here, so I asked my parents to stay too,” he expounded as he dug around in his dresser, occasionally sniff-testing garments of clothing before shoving them in. “They said I could, but I had to come home for Christmas. I wanted him to just stay at our house, since my parents are on his emergency card, but then we heard that Minnie would be here too. Me ‘n Junhyuk.”

You smiled proudly at the boy. “That’s all very nice of you to do for your friends, Dogyun.”

“Why’re you here, Ms. Y/L/N? On Christmas?” Dogyun questioned. “What about your parents?”

“My parents have uhm—they’ve passed.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry, I didn’t know—”

“It’s okay,” you reassured him calmly. “I’m glad I’m spending Christmas—and this whole break—with you guys.”

Dogyun zipped up his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Hey, can you check on Junhyuk before lights-out? I know you always come say goodnight to us, but look after him a little extra right now? I’m not here, so however much you look after me, give it to him.”

“I’ll look after him double.”

“Thanks, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

Dogyun’s family was already in the drive when you got outside. His parents immediately hugged him, to which he rolled his eyes, but hugged them back nevertheless. You gave all of them your holidays wishes, and waved one final time to your student as he climbed into the car.

That night, before lights-out, you checked on the boys as promised. Sungmin had climbed into Junhyuk’s bottom bunk, watching the older boy play a game on his Switch. You hovered in the doorway for a few moments, just observing them fondly. When it looked like he was between levels, you softly knocked on the open door to announce your presence.

Both of them looked up from the screen, Junhyuk setting the device down on his lap. “Hi, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Hey, guys. How are you?”

“Junhyuk was showing me a really hard level in this game! He’s really good!” Sungmin told you enthusiastically.

“Is it lights-out?” Junhyuk asked.

“No, not yet. Just popping in to say goodnight.”

Sungmin threw the blankets off him to scurry over to you, throwing his arms around your waist. “Goodnight.”

You patted the top of his head. “Night, Sungmin.”

“Can I go see my uncle for a minute?”

“Of course.”

He zipped down the hall, leaving you with the older boy. Junhyuk turned his device off and set it down. After a moment of silence, he hesitantly asked, “Can I hug you too?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” You opened your arms for him, letting him approach you uncertainly, hugging you with much more caution than Sungmin had. You squeezed him tight, patting his back, and felt him relax in your arms. “You know me and Coach Jung are right there if you need anything, right?”

He nodded, retracting from the hug as slow as he’d initiated. You offered one more reassuring smile, already hearing the hurried footsteps of Sungmin returning. The nine-year-old squeezed into the room, launching himself back onto Junhyuk’s mattress.

“One more level, Jun?” He pleaded.

Junhyuk chuckled and started gently pushing him over. “Not if you’re hogging my whole bed, Minnie. Make some room.”

Back in your room, you slowly got ready for bed, Junhyuk’s situation still weighing heavy on your mind. Emerging from the bathroom, you stopped at the foot of Sungchan’s temporary bed, where he was propped up against the pillows reading something.

“Do you know why Junhyuk’s here?” You asked.

Sungchan sighed and nodded. “Yeah, his dad’s shitty. I know we’re not supposed to talk like that about them—”

“I won’t tell.”

“—Absolutely fucking evil son of a bitch,” he groaned, snapping his book shut and mimicking like he was strangling somebody. “He’s leaving Junhyuk here over break to teach him a lesson.”

Your jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Because he wore the wrong color tie to some event.”

“What?!”

“Junhyuk told me the first day, when he was helping me with the equipment. The really sad thing is, he believes that he deserves it.”

“No…”

“Yeah,” Sungchan confirmed. “Poor kid.”

You blood boiled over in record time. “That’s not a fitting punishment at all! Doesn’t even deserve a punishment! That guy’s a dick! He doesn’t even deserve a kid as good as Junhyuk. Oh my god, he shouldn’t even fucking be a parent!”

“I told him that. Well, the first part.” He watched you pace angrily. “Junhyuk say something to you?”

“Dogyun seemed worried about him while he was gone, asked me to take extra care of him. Didn’t say why.” You bit the inside of your cheek. “Dogyun’s a good kid. Despite the…”

“Stealing sewing needles to pierce his own ears?”

“I was going to say general disregard for rules and authority that he doesn’t deem worth his time, but that too,” you chuckled.

“Same thing.”

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were remarkably quiet. Junhyuk and Sungmin mainly kept busy with indoor activities—video games, reading, and playing in the gym. As you bit into a cookie Christmas night, you thought about your mom, letting a few bittersweet tears fall.

Dogyun’s return made the school feel full again, despite the distinct lack of all other students. There was more laughter, more smiles, and more energy. He brought with him extra presents for Junhyuk and Sungmin from his family, as well as an invite for them to stay over at his family’s house for New Year’s Eve. Dogyun’s parents were one of Junhyuk’s emergency contacts alongside his own, meaning that they had pre-approved permission to sign him out. Sungchan gave his permission for Sungmin to go as well. But in the week before New Year’s, they were still yours to entertain.

“Yeti! Mountain! Yeti! Mountain!” The three boys chanted in the backseat as you passed under the sign out front of the amusement park.

Today, the five of you had woken up rather early to make the long trek to Yeti Mountain, a seasonal theme park several towns over. With the cold, dreary weather outside, you were hoping that the lines wouldn’t be too long, despite the fact that it was now just a few days from Christmas, meaning that lots of families would also be looking for something to keep their own children entertained.

“Okay, buddy system,” you reminded everyone as Sungchan passed out tickets out front of the gate. “Nobody goes off by themselves. You’re either with Coach Jung, me, or each other.”

“Yes, Ms. Y/L/N!” They agreed in unison.

The crowd was about as bad as you had imagined, and you were grateful that you had insisted they all wore their school-issued coats today, as it was easier to spot the three little blobs in matching white and maroon striped puffers among the throng of blobs in black puffers.

“Ooh! Let’s do the Polar Plunge!” Dogyun pointed ahead to a ride, and you watched as it took the strapped-in riders straight up in the air, tilted them face-down, let them dangle, then dropped them back down, slowing down just in time to not actually impact.

“Polar Plunge!” Junhyuk cheered, grabbing his friend’s hand. He turned to the other boy. “You’re coming, right, Minnie?”

“Yeah!” He nodded excitedly. “Polar Plunge!”

Junhyuk grabbed his hand too, and they all ran off towards the ride.

“You want to go?” Sungchan asked you, the two of you slowly trailing after the kids.

You wrinkled your nose and shook your head. “Nah. I like rollercoasters. Not that shit.”

“Sensible,” he snickered. “Mind holding my phone?”

Taking your hand out of your pocket, you held it out palm-up expectantly, and he plopped his phone down.

“Thanks!”

You nodded ahead at where the boys had already raced to the back of the line. “I’ll wait in line with you guys.”

“Yes! You guys are riding it too!” Junhyuk pumped his fist in the air.

“Just Coach Jung,” you informed them. “I don’t like this kind of ride.”

“We’re splitting the rides,” Sungchan added. “So if you ever don’t want to go, you’ll have one of us down here. Don’t worry about saying no, okay?”

You squeezed his arm appreciatively at the idea, and he smiled back at you.

The line slowly shuffled forward until it was finally your group’s turn to board. Promising that you’d be watching, you had just started walking away when Sungchan called your name. Turning back around, you saw that Sungmin was being taken aside to have his height measured, and despite stretching his neck out as much as possible, it was clear he wasn’t going to make the height minimum. Sungchan said a couple more words to him, and the other boys patted his back before letting him walk over to you alone, shoulders slumped.

“I wasn’t tall enough,” Sungmin informed you glumly, watching as the other three got on.

“Aw, that’s a bummer,” you led him over to a portion of the fence that surrounded the ride. “There’s more rides, this is just the first one.”

Sungchan, Dogyun, and Junhyuk were seated on the side facing you, and all waved fervently at you and Sungmin as the ride went up and up. The two of you waved back, until they were tilted forwards and could no longer see you. Your boys’ screams were distinct among the chorus of yells when it dropped, and both you and Sungmin laughed at just how loud they were.

The next ride they wanted to go on was a teacup ride modified to look like icebergs. The carts only fit four people, so you sent the kids off in one while you and Sungchan took another. You easily spotted the car with your students in it, Junhyuk and Dogyun doing their best to make it spin as fast as possible while Sungmin was squashed in between them, face absolutely lit up.

“I’m getting sick just watching them,” you snorted, maintaining the lazy pace you had started with the wheel.

“Oh, so you don’t want to…” Sungchan gripped the wheel with two hands, mischievous glint in his eyes.

“No, wait!” You squealed as he whipped the controls around, speeding up your teacup as well. While you were pushed back in your seat, Sungchan apparently hadn’t braced himself for his own act, getting thrown to the side and stumbling into you.

You were laughing as you elbowed him, “Instant punishment.”

He dropped back into the seat where he was, giggling, letting his arm that he’d used to catch himself on the seat back naturally fall to your shoulders. “My bad,” he grinned.

After a few more rides, you stopped at a food stall to get everyone snacks to eat under covered picnic benches. As the boys were engaged in their own chatter about a video game, you happily took a bite of your fresh mini-donut, still warm. Sungchan chuckled and set down the cup of hot chocolate he’d been sipping on.

“Hold on, you’ve got—” He bit the finger of his glove and pulled it off. Gently, he brushed at the corners of your mouth and chin with his fingertips, finishing his sentence, “—powdered sugar all over your face.”

“Oops,” you mumbled, looking away from his eyes, a bit too afraid what you might do if you actually met his gaze right now.

By the end of the day, you were tuckered out, fully ready to utilize the car trip back home to sleep. As your group made your way to the exit, however, you were stopped by the park employee saying goodbye to everyone.

“Hey, you folks drive in from out of town?” He asked.

“Yes, why?” Sungchan responded.

“Avalanche blocked the only road out of here. Afraid it won’t be cleared until tomorrow,” he explained. “We’re offering complimentary accommodations at the resort hotel to ticketholders who can’t leave.”

Sungchan turned to the rest of you, clapping his hands together. “Well, looks like we’re staying, then.”

At the front desk, you kept an eye on the boys as they looked around at the themed hotel decorations in awe, checking out the Christmas tree with ornaments of the titular yeti character and his many wintery friends, pictures of them on many adventures hung around, and general icicle and snow motifs. You were only half-listening to the conversation that Sungchan was having with the desk attendant as he checked you all in.

Then Sungchan was tapping your elbow. “Is that alright, Y/N?”

“Hm?” you lifted your eyebrows questioningly, looking away from your kids for a moment.

“They have two rooms left, one with two queen beds, the other is just a king,” he filled you in. “The boys will need the two beds, are you okay with us in the other room?”

You blinked maybe a little too fast, throwing on a smile and nodding. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

Emerging from your bathroom decked out head to toe in brand-new Yeti Mountain merch courtesy of the lobby gift shop, you immediately burst into laughter upon locking eyes with Sungchan, in a very similar outfit.

“We look like the biggest Yeti Mountain fans ever,” he snickered from his spot reclined on the bed, one leg crossed over the other and an arm behind his head.

“We look like that family with annual passes who take their kids here every day its open,” you snorted, walking over to the window to peer out at the theme park in the distance. Pulling the curtain aside fully, there was a small ledge with a cushion for sitting.

“We probably got married at Yeti Mountain.” Sungchan joined you at your spot, staring outside with you. His limbs were a bit long for both of you to be sharing the nook, but you didn’t complain, letting him squeeze on with you, shoulder-to-shoulder and knee-to-knee.

You laughed. “Do they even do weddings?”

“They should. A wedding reception in the Yeti Cave would be kind of sick.”

“With a disco ball and everything.”

“Now you’re talking.” He look over at you with a grin, and your breath caught in your throat.

Sure, you’d been rooming with Sungchan for almost a month now, but this was different, closer. No ocean of floor between your heads. His hair fell in his eyes, and you watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. Even the silly Yeti Mountain branded t-shirt he was in seemed to fit him remarkably well, longsleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing the prominent veins that criss-crossed his skin from his hands and up into the sleeves.

Pressure was building up in your head, it was hard to think past the white noise in your ears. You habitually wet your lips, and you didn’t miss how his eyes followed the movement. Then you were kissing him, and he was kissing you back, hand on your waist as yours was carding through his hair.

Sungchan smiled against your lips, breaking the kiss with a chuckle. He covered his face with one hand, then dropped his cheek into his palm, fixing you with a sheepish and tender smile. “Ah, I was trying to wait until spring semester started to ask you out.”

You tilted your head and arched an eyebrow, absolutely bemused at this revelation. “Wait, you were going to specifically wait until we weren’t sharing a room, and everybody in the school was back, to ask me out?”

“Yes, because I’m a gentleman like that.” He was pouting a little bit now.

You giggled, brushing his hair back from his face before cupping his cheek. “Yeah, you kind of are.”

Sungchan leaned forward, bumping your nose with his affectionately. You closed the gap, connecting your mouths once more.

“What are we going to do without them?” You sighed, getting back in the car after dropping the boys off at Dogyun’s family’s house. It was New Year’s Eve, so you would be without them for a whole twenty-four hours, and you honestly didn’t know how you’d fill your time now.

Sungchan started the car, a smirk on his face. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a surprise.”

You couldn’t help but smile as well. “I’ll just wait and see, then.”

“Why are we going to the gym right now?” You questioned as Sungchan led you down the hall of trophies by the hand.

“What? Late-night one-on-one basketball match wasn’t what you were hoping for?” He teased, bumping your shoulder with his.

“In our pajamas?”

“Just wait,” he hummed, continuing to pull you across the gymnasium, towards another set of double doors.

The two of you ended up outside his classroom, which you hadn’t been in since you set it up for movies with the kids a couple weeks ago. All of the classroom furniture that you swore he, Junhyuk, and Dogyun were supposed to be putting back in the classroom while you and Sungmin baked cookies, was still in the hallway. You gave him a skeptical look, but said nothing further, letting him open the door for you.

The sleeping mats, pillows, and blankets were set up on the floor, illuminated by the blank projector screen and strings of rainbow lights hung from the ceiling. You turned back to Sungchan, jaw dropped in delight.

“So sweet,” you gave your approval, throwing your arms around his neck.

“This time we don’t have to watch a bunch of kids movies,” he chuckled, strong arms holding you tight to him. “It’s just us.”

As you went to settle into the pillows and blanket, you gazed up at the lights thoughtfully. “Did you take these off the Christmas tree in the dining hall?”

“I technically didn’t,” he replied pointedly.

“Dogyun,” you immediately surmised.

“They’ve requested anonymity.”

“Wait, is this what you three were doing while we baked cookies?”

He held his hands up, even as he was smiling mischievously. “I can neither confirm nor deny when the alleged theft took place.”

You shook your head and laughed, pecking his cheek. “Thank you, Sungchan. And your little elves.”

Later on, you didn’t even realize that midnight had already come and gone until Sungchan was switching between movies, and you happened to glance at the time on his laptop, nearly one in the morning.

“Happy late New Year’s,” you snickered, pointing to the clock.

“Happy New Year’s.” He beamed, swooping in to capture your lips with his.

The staff and students began returning to the Moorehead Prep campus on Saturday, and the heat was turned back on in the female staff dorms, meaning that you finally got to go back to your own room. Several ladies were in your room, asking about your break while you folded your laundry that you had done ahead of everyone’s return this morning.

“It was great, the boys didn’t cause us any trouble,” you answered, well aware of what they actually wanted to know. “We went sledding, and baked cookies. We even took them to Yeti Mountain one day.”

“Oh, okay,” one of the ladies sighed, not hiding her disappointment. “Sounds nice, Y/N.”

There was a knock at the front door, and another one of your colleagues peeked out of your second-story window. She gasped and turned back to you with wide eyes. “Coach Jung is here!”

You continued folding your clothes, even as you heard Sungchan’s voice at the front door, then footsteps running up the stairs. Ms. Hyesoo didn’t even bother knocking on your wide-open door, suspicious gaze landing on you as she announced knowingly, “Coach Jung is looking for you.”

“Thanks, Ms. Hyesoo. I’ll be down in a second.”

Ignoring the clamoring around you, you tucked your final article of clothing in your drawer, and grabbed your gloves off your nightstand. You gave them all a goodbye as you hurried down the stairs. Sungchan was waiting for you on the porch, smiling down at you as you shut the door behind you.

He wordlessly took off the scarf that he was wearing, looping it around your own bare neck for you. “Ready for lunch?”

“Starving,” you answered with a grin.

⇢ 2025 hallmark movie marathon

TAGLIST

@annenakamura @bee-the-loser @dejundesign @flooftown @httpsxnox @kirrakira @lotties-readings @pandabunbuns @ppddpjdr @reiofsuns2001 @snowyseungs @tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69 @winkeuu @woozidreams

“If she got herself there she can get herself back.”

Sungchan repeated the phrase to him a million times before he was finally able to lull himself back to sleep. It was 4:21 AM before his eyes finally closed again, he put his hands over his eyes and rubbed them for relief. He went to his temples. He rolled to his side. He sighed deeply, took his phone off silent and set his ringer to the loudest option. 

He was so stressed he was unknowingly on the edge even in his dreamscape. His stress heightened from you defiantly sneaking away in the middle of the night to go to a rave. 

He was so on edge that the sound of someone buzzing his apartment made him bolt upwards. His heart was beating quickly, he gasped and was moving on autopilot from his room to the common area. He was in a rush he didn’t even check what time it was, he went straight to the box by his door to let you in. 

Before Sungchan could connect to the microphone and ask you where you had been mockingly, he saw Shotaro first. His friends face took up the entire camera. The hue of night-vision and the surprise made Sungchan jump out of his skin, blinking hard to make sure he was seeing things correctly. 

“Sungchan.” Shotaro speaks directly into the camera. 

He turns his head to hear him clearly, and when he does Sungchan sees you. Shaky in your heels, holding onto the brick edge of the building for stability. Giselle is beside you, body fully slumped. Shotaro looks behind him to make sure you two are still there. The night vision from the camera and the drop in his stomach makes this feel like a horror movie.

When Shotaro rings the buzzer again, Sungchan finally presses the intercom.

“Hello?” Sungchan asked.

Everyone perked up at the sound of Sungchan’s staticky voice coming through the speakers. Shotaro smiled, got closer, Giselle separated herself from the wall. You went to crouching in your heels, ass nearly scraping the concrete.

“Sungchan. Sorry if I woke you up.” Giselle leaning from the building made her lose her balance, and Shotaro acted quick to grab her hand to keep her upright. Sungchan noticed, even through the terrible quality of his doors’ camera, he noticed. “the girls are drunk. I’m drunk too.” 

“I’ll be down in a second.” Sungchan says.

Before Shotaro can even respond Sungchan is running from room to room trying to clear any trace of you. He throws your keys into his nightstand and your jacket into his closet. He hides your things wherever he can find them, grabbing handfuls and putting them in places he prays Shotaro won’t look. The only thing that pulls him from what he was doing was Shotaro ringing the buzzer again. Sungchan gave his apartment one more run-through. Then he was throwing on his jacket and clearing the stairs two at a time to get to the lobby.

Immediately Sungchan saw Shotaro, Giselle, and you waiting past the door. He didn’t give himself enough time to prepare mentally to hide your relationship, between hiding traces of you and trying to help his friend he didn’t know what to do when he saw you face to face.

He opened the door quickly, he knew to do that. He didn’t say anything about Giselle on Shotaros’ back with her arms slung over his shoulders. He didn’t say anything about his hands on her bare thighs because he knew he was probably next. She’s fast asleep, she’s snoring right in his ear as he looks to Sungchan.

“So sorry for popping up on you like this. Giselle lost her key and my place is too far.” Shotaro adjusts Giselle on his back, his hands on her bare thighs. “They drank way more than I thought they would.”

Sungchan is nodding sympathetically, desperately trying to avoid your gaze. You went to squatting on his stoop, your dress was already tight and short and now it was riding up, clinging to your upper thigh. One wrong move and you were flashing him, and you were also staring at Sungchan like you were starving. Sungchan swallowed thickly and kept his eyes on Shotaro, suddenly remembering he forgot to hide the toothbrush you kept in his bathroom.

“Don’t worry about it.” Sungchan says quickly. He opens the door so Shotaro can pass through first. 

You stand up on your wobbly heels. Sungchan reaches out and grabs your forearm. He’s strong and keeps you from falling backwards. You look down at his hand, and for a moment Sungchan thinks you still might be mad from the phone call you two had earlier. But whatever happened between then and now is seemingly water under the bridge, or you’re too drunk now to remember anything else from when you were less drunk.

“Sungchan can you help me with her?” Shotaro motions towards you vaguely, already making his way up the stairs.

“I don’t need help.”

Shotaro stops with one foot on the stairs and the other still on the ground floor. He turns to you, Sungchan continues looking at him because he can’t handle being in the middle of whatever is about to happen.

“Don’t be difficult.” Shotaro says.

“I can walk perfectly fine.” you say.

“You can barely walk.” Shotaro motions towards Sungchan to look at you. He has to pretend he doesn’t hesitate when he turns his head, just to see you already looking at him. “Just let Sungchan carry you up.”

Sungchan can feel his face heat up from the attention. Shotaro was giving Sungchan an indirect order, and before he knows it he’s walking to you. He tries his best to avoid eye contact, but not to the point that you or Shotaro will comment on it. 

Sungchan walks over to you. You wore the shortest dress you own, your thighs are pressed together and your dress rides up your legs. Sungchan crouches with his back facing you, and after a moment you’re climbing onto his back. Sungchan keeps his arms at his side to be respectful, and you’re letting out tiny moans into his ear from fake effort. Only he can hear them, Sungchan is wide-eyed and refusing to look over his shoulder. He keeps his eyes trained on the tile in his apartment complex. Sungchan waits to put his hands underneath your thighs hesitantly and you’re tucking your head into the crook of his neck and breathing hot air on his sensitive skin.

Sungchan tries to tell you to stop because Shotaro is looking back at you two before he goes up the steps. You stop just in time, but as soon as Shotaro is facing forward you’re licking from the base of his neck to his ear. Sungchan nearly falls back from the shock, your warm breath smells like the drinks you had tonight and it tickles his neck. Sungchan only grips your thighs tighter to get you to stop, but it only makes you take his earlobe into your mouth and sucking on it. Sungchan is bending his neck to get you to unlatch but you think it’s just a game. You just go to the other side of his neck and repeat the process, until Sungchan is beading sweat at his hairline. 

Sungchan clears the stairs two steps at a time. He nearly overtakes Shotaro’s place on the stairs, and when he gets to his door he drops you to the ground quickly and wipes his neck. 

Shotaro looks back at you both, and Sungchan is wiping his spit covered hands on his pants tensely. Shotaro still has Giselle on his back when he gestures to the closed door.

Sungchan opens the door for everyone. He avoids eye contact with you, motioning towards his open area. 

“The couch can pull-out.” Sungchan points towards the extra room. “The girls can sleep in the extra room. It’s small and I use it for storage space but—”

“Sungchan. Giselle just fell asleep on my back and she’s about to fall asleep standing up. It’s fine. I promise.”

Sungchan looks right at Shotaro’s face, drunk happiness fully shows across his flushed cheeks. He’s mad at himself, a little bit mad at you for putting his friend through this predicament. You getting drunk forced Shotaro to come all the way here. The only thing Sungchan can do was give everyone his clothes as some sort of penance. Like he is making up for what you’ve done and what he has lied about thus far.

He was only laying in his bed for ten minutes before he heard his door open. He slinked off after doing his good deed and crawled into bed after leaving Advils and glasses of water for his friend. He held his breath when he put the medicine beside you and Giselle, scared that you were going to leap at him. But you were snoring, and Sungchan was safe. He went to his room after checking on Shotaro, and then he went to bed facing the wall thinking about what type of person he was.

He pretended to be asleep, body still facing his wall as he heard you walking to his bed. Your feet were heavy on his floor, you were still stumbling and Sungchan stiffened. For a moment he thought about pretending to still be asleep. But Sungchan felt a dip in the mattress as you moved in next to him, pulling his body close until he’s the little spoon against you. Sungchan pretends he’s asleep until he hears the bed creak loudly from your weight. He makes a sound through clenched teeth and he can practically hear the smile in the way you pull him even closer to him.

He still feels the leftover guilt from leaving you at that rave—even though he knew you were taken care of—and he felt guilty for pretending like he’s never seen you drunk before. He even felt bad about you attempting to tongue-fuck his ear on the way up the stairs. Usually you two would get up to things whenever one of you was intoxicated. You were a creature of habit, even if the scenery changed you were still privy to doing the same things. You didn’t care that Shotaro was in the common area and Giselle was asleep in your bed—there was something you wanted so you were going to get what you wanted.

But Sungchan is standing tall. Even if you snuggle close until your front is pressing into his back. Sungchan can tell you skipped your bra, just in his oversized shirt with your leg draping over his. 

This is innocent. Sungchan will just wake up early and move to the floor and tell Shotaro that you were being bratty and wanted the bed. You two can cuddle until dawn. You’re just bringing your lips to his ear to give him a gentle kiss.

“Usually we fuck when I’m drunk.” you whisper. 

He swears he can hear a hint of a slur in your voice. You seemingly just got right back up almost immediately after he left the room. 

“I was so horny at the rave you have no idea.” Sungchan feels your hand go to his arm, rubbing all the way down from his flexed bicep to his hand. “I would’ve fucked you in your car if you actually showed up.”

You move from his neck to his cheek, a sloppy kiss that Sungchan can feel the spit cooling on his skin. You move him further, until you’re looking down at his face. When he doesn’t react you shake his body and hum at him.

“I don’t wanna take advantage of you.” Sungchan says quietly.

“Don’t lie.” You put your hand on Sungchans’ shoulders and push them down until his back is pressed to the bed. He’s forced to look at your half-lidded eyes. He doesn’t know if you’re tired or drunk or horny. “You weren’t saying that last time I was like this.” 

Sungchan has to squeeze his eyes tight to forget what happened last time you were drunk. He was a little bit intoxicated too, a little clumsy and heavy handed with his touches. He accidentally ripped your blouse but purposefully tore a perfect hole in your tights. 

Fucking when you both are drunk is different, he maintains that. He needs to tell you but your hand is distracting, going lower and lower. 

When your hand gets to Sungchans’ pants, he collects both of your wrists in one hand. The mattress creaks, you try to sneak your hands further into his pants but he keeps a tight hold.

“What are you doing?” Sungchan talks through clenched teeth. “Shotaro is in the other room.”

“I know.” You kiss Sungchan’s neck, pushing his head to the side to expose more of his skin. He gives in too easily, and you kiss his sensitive skin until his grip falters.

You keep reaching your hands further and further down. Even over his shirt you can feel his toned stomach, and you think about how badly he was there at the rave to pick you up. The grip he has on your wrists makes you think of what he would’ve done if he was in that sour mood outside the party. You wish he had a little bit of fight now, instead of the faux-assertiveness he had currently. Beneath it all he is still submissive, even if he’s stronger than he likes to let on. 

“You’re hard.” You wrap both of your hands around Sungchans’ dick. He still has your wrist in his hand, almost making it painful the way your bones press together. You squeeze your hand, just to see how he’ll react. His serious eyebrows falter, and you can’t stop your smile. “You’re really hard.” you repeat.

You slowly start moving your hand up and down, the tiniest movement that his grip allows. When Sungchan doesn’t stop you keep going, repeating the small motion over and over again. You can barely see his face in the dark, so you get closer. You’re nose to nose, you stare at his face waiting for his facade to fall. His eyes were wondering and were never stern to begin with, he pressed his lips in a straight line to assert himself, he seemed to just get closer and closer to you instead of trying to create a distance. 

“Are you taking advantage of me yet?” you giggle while moving your hands faster. “It feels kind of reversed right now.” 

“I can squeeze my legs together and you can fuck them?” You start working your hands a little faster, feeling Sungchan pulse in your hand and leak pre-cum through your fingers. “Like we did last time I was drunk?”

“Baby please.” Sungchan is turning away from your face to look towards the ceiling. You can feel his thighs jump and his body twitch from you touching him. “Don’t make any noise.” 

Instantly he is going back on his own words because he’s whimpering and biting his lip to stop it. He also can’t be adamant about you stopping, because when you pause even for a moment he’s doing to work by using the grip on your wrist to move your hand himself. He even uses his hand to cover yours to make your hand tighten around his dick.

“Touch me too.” You open your legs over the top of the bed, Sungchan’s shirt riding up and exposing your bare bottom half. Sungchan looks towards you, using your free hand to pull your shirt further up your body. “Please.” you add quickly.

Sungchan still doesn’t move. You pout, you stop jerking him off completely. You move to your side, putting a hand on his chest to show that you’re sincere.

“Baby, I said I was sorry.” You move side to side on the bed, causing the mattress to creak. 

“What are you sorry for?” he asks, whispering.

“For running off in the middle of the night and then showing up here.”

Sungchan hums sympathetically, waiting for more. He likes seeing you confused trying to figure out what else he can say.

“Maybe if you jerk me off good enough I’ll think about it.” Sungchan sees the downward shift in your expression and he nods. “You should try to make this right, don’t you think?” he asks.

Sungchan brings your body back close to his, and guides your hand to his dick again. When you start slow he tsks right in your ear.

“Do it like you mean it.” Sungchan says it right into your hair to muffle the volume. He’s fully fucking your hand now, his wet hand clasped over yours doing all of the work. 

Sungchan takes you nodding and speeding up your hand as you trying your best. Despite you being tired and tipsy he refuses to cut you slack. 

“C’mon,” Sungchan keeps fucking your hand, the wet sound breaking through the soft material of his pants. He can feel the uncomfortable cold wet spot in his slacks, and he’s embarrassed for you that he’s lasted this long. “we don’t have all night.”

“I’m trying.” you quickly push Sungchan’s pants down. He brings them down the rest of the way, the waistband tight around his toned thighs. When Sungchan is done he clasps a wet hand over your mouth. He smiles when you breathe hard against his palm, licking and trying to bite him. 

“You’re too loud.” 

You mumble something incoherent and Sungchan feels himself getting even harder. He laughs directly into your hair because he doesn’t even know what he’s doing right now. He’s fucking his bestfriend’s sister while he’s asleep in the living-room, bullying her into jerking him off the right way while he has her mouth covered. He was in your life to treat you right and serve as a live-in-maid per his friend’s request. Now he’s here, and he’s about to cum all over your hand and sheets.

His hand goes back to your wrist and keeps your hand in place. He exerts the last of his strength to stop you from moving completely. He fucks your soft wet hand, cursing into your hair and feeling puffs of air against his palm. He curses one more time then he’s painting your knuckles and his own hand in cum, then he goes to his abs then clothes and sheets. He hates making a mess but he can’t stop. When his hand falls from your face and wrist you use both to jerk him off again. You twist your wrist and do it faster, until Sungchan has to bite his lip to stop himself from moaning too loud.

You still find a way to torture him, because Sungchan is putting shaky hands over yours and murmuring please over and over again so you’ll stop. He sees you locked in on his swollen dick, like you’re trying to get every last drop from him. He thinks it’s only the fifth please you stop, pulling your attention away from his dick back to his face. He sees you through the haze, and as if nothing just transpired you are looking at him with a smile on your face. You still look hazy from the drinking, but the drowsiness on your face is undeniable. You give him a peck on his cheek, then you’re cuddling into his side and getting comfortable. Not even a minute later you’re snoring, even with a mess all over your hands and Sungchans’ shirt still riding up your body.

Sungchan has to get out from under you, careful not to wake you. He goes to his bathroom to clean himself up, then he grabs a warm towel to clean you up as well. He fixes the shirt on your body, and he leaves you sprawled out on his bed to have the entire King for yourself.

Sungchan eventually got comfortable on the floor. He was so comfortable on the floor knowing you were on the bed sleeping soundly. He was so comfortable he stayed asleep, even through the loud sound of you crawling off the bed and onto the floor next to him. He slept through the springing mattress, the creaking floorboard, and the feeling of you settling underneath his arm.

“Sungchan?” 

Sungchan woke up for the third time that night suddenly. His head was pounding, his back hurt, his arm was stiff. 

Shotaro was standing in the doorframe. He didn’t even hear the door open. Sungchan didn’t hear you come down from the bed in the middle of the night, and he also doesn’t remember wrapping his arms around you to keep you close. You were still sound sleep on his chest, wearing his clothes while he was shirtless

You love to munch on your boyfriend every chance you get. At this point, it’s no secret at all.

His kind acts, pretty face and adorable attitudes activate your cuteness aggression every other day, so you’re often squeezing his face, making his lips pucker to drop a kiss on them or biting his cheeks. You just can’t help but think he’s the cutest creature in the world and particularly charming when he’s doting on you and making you feel special. Although the way he’s adoring you right now it’s quite far from cute.

Currently, he has his dick stuffed deep inside your pussy, making you scream and crush his hands in pleasure rather than in infatuation for him. You’re laying in your bed with your legs spread open, the side of them brushing the sheets, while he’s up with his knees slightly pressing on the mattress, perpendicular to you while he drives his hips forward and backwards again and again in a slow pace that’s sure to drive you insane any minute now. His hands that are holding your hips are covered by yours, your fingers trying – and failing – to fill the space in between his fingers to loosen his strong grip on you so you’d be able to meet his thrusts in a faster rhythm.

But of course, Sungchan knows you. He knows he can’t give you any power when you are as desperate as you are now, because then you’d both be cumming a lot faster than intended and that’s not what he wants..

What he wants is to continue his leisure and sweet slides of his cock inside of you, savoring the way your pussy keeps swallowing him whole. And he makes sure you know it.

“That’s it, baby, sucking me in so good,” he groans, his voice low and shaky. “Love fucking this pussy so much.”

“Jinsu, please,” you reply in between broken moans. “Please go faster.”

“So adorable when you beg, baby. But not yet,” he tsks at you, making you roll your eyes.

“You’re insufferable,” you state.

“And you’re desperate,” he says, crouching down so he’s hovering above you, his chest squeezing your boobs in between your bodies, but still keeping his hands steady on your hips. “You always ask for faster, but you love it when I go slow.”

You hate that he’s right. No matter how long you beg for him to fasten his tempo, you end up loving his lazy strokes, especially when they make his cock rub sweetly on your g-spot like it’s doing now. But still, you want more. You need more.

“I love it when you’re inside of me, baby. No matter how,” you say matter-of-factly. Because it is true. And also because you hope that it will soften his heart and make him just as desperate as you.

Sungchan eyes you suspiciously and then moves his lips to the shell of your ear. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” he mutters, punctuating each word with a hard slide of his cock, making you babble incoherently. He snickers at your reaction, pulling his head back to look into your eyes and coo at you. “Are you fucked dumb already? I barely even started.”

“Fuck you,” you spit at his beautiful face.

“You are doing it right now, baby,” he says and you roll your eyes again.

After long minutes of keeping the same rhythm, he finally gives in a little, sliding his hands under you to hoist you further onto the bed and finally laying on it, pressing his body full on yours and then relocating his hands to your waist. Of course, the weight of him pressing down on you still prevents you from moving just the way you want, but now you have a little more room to discreetly wiggle your hips back and forth.

“You’re really testing my patience today,” he says when he notices what you’re doing, flames shining behind his eyes with slight anger.

“I’m testing your patience? You’re the one who doesn’t want to fuck me right!” You cry out in outrage, the intense feeling coursing through you.

At your words, he halts all movements, stopping midway through sliding out of you and closing his eyes, taking a deep breath. You know you fucked up at the very moment the phrase was out of your mouth, but pride and irritation make you purse your lips together instead of apologizing.

“Well, if I’m fucking you wrong,” he says, opening his eyes again to pierce them at you, annoyance dripping from his words, “then maybe I should just stop fucking you at all.”

Your response is immediate, your eyes widening and legs and arms tightening around Sungchan before he has the chance to pull out of you.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you whisper pleadingly, your hands holding his face to yours so he cannot look away. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” You drop three kisses on his lips, but he doesn’t kiss you back. You’re heartbroken at the lack of reaction from him. “I’m just so needy today,” you continue, your voice faltering as you feel the tears welling up in your eyes. “I missed you. It’s been so long we’ve been together like this.” It’s true. Work and other responsibilities have been keeping you away from each other for weeks. Now the both of you have finally caught a break for a few days and you just missed him so much. “And I needed to— I’m so sorry. I’m a brat. You can punish me however you want, but please don’t— Please, Jinsu, I’m—”

Sungchan shushes your babbling when his hands come to your face. You lean into his touch like a cat as he caresses your cheeks and you purr from just the small hint of affection. “Shhhh, it’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” he assures you, wiping your tears away. “It’s fine, I get it. I missed you too. And I’m gonna do it how you want it, okay?”

You shake your head. “No, I don’t deserve it. I’ve been bad—”

“You’ve been my sweet, beautiful, good girl whom I missed so much. And you deserve to be fucked the way you want to,” he says in the sweetest voice ever and drops a kiss to your lips. You follow his mouth when he retreats, trying to coax him into kissing you more, but he resists. “I’m going to give it to you now, okay? And we can go for round two later if you want.”

You’ve never seen Sungchan melt on you so fast before, never seen him change from hard to soft dom in such short notice. You’re taken aback at his sudden change in demeanor, but you can feel the sincerity dripping from his voice and the emotion translated on the shiny tears that gathers at his eyes. “Really?” You ask still, waiting for a confirmation, a stray tear falling from your right eye.

He nods and grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles as he glides fully inside of you again. “Of course, baby.” Then he moves his lips to the trail of the last tear in your face, kissing it until it disappears completely. He places more kisses on you, his lips covering you in his love and his spit as he sucks on your skin repeatedly.

“Thank you, baby. Thank you. I love you so much,” you whisper, gripping his shoulders and raking your nails there.

“I love you too, baby,” he mutters back, ghosting his mouth over yours and kissing you one more time. “Ready?”

You nod. “Ready.”

And then he gives you exactly what you asked for. He slams inside you hard, fast and effortlessly in an unrelenting pace. It’s so powerful you grit your teeth and he has to grip you again so you don’t slip away from him. You think there’ll probably be bruises on your hips in the morning, but you don’t care because your sweet caring boyfriend finally took in consideration your request in bed. And his cock is hitting your cervix in the most delicious way, too.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you scream, moans freely flying out of your mouth. “You’re the best, Jinsu. The most perfect boyfriend. Thank you.”

He chuckles and nips on your clavicle. “If I knew that’s what I‘d get from giving you what you want, I would have done it sooner, baby.”

“Well, I did ask for it more than once before,” you snicker, earning another bite from him, this time a harder one.

“Careful now,” he adverts and you quiet your bratty remarks. There’s no need to make him angry again when he’s being so good to you.

“Sorry,” you whisper and he laughs, moving his arms to rest on the bed, bracketing them on both sides of your head.

That’s when you see it. The veins popping up on his forearms, how they beautifully decorate his skin, from his elbow to the back of his hands. You lick your lips and move your head to the side on instinct, guided solely by the purpose of getting your mouth on him. You kiss his flesh tenderly, laving at it with your tongue and sucking on what you can, tracing the veins with your lips. While you do it, your eyes focus on his biceps, on how they bulge every time he plunges inside of you and relax every time he slides out. Again, you lick your lips and stretch your neck further to reach it. You’re able to kiss the taut muscle just above his right elbow and you smile happily to yourself as you start nibbling on it. Sungchan is so distracted keeping the pace he set and looking down at where your bodies connect that he doesn’t notice it. So you indulge yourself in the moment, delivering bite after bite after, lingering on the next one longer than the last, and kissing and licking in between to calm the blemish that rises on his flesh.

You start to see the indents of your teeth on his skin and, damn, they look so freaking good adorning him. And then you remember the last time you went to the gym with him, how so many pairs of eyes focused on his arms while he did dumbbell curls and bench dips.

Something comes over you. A deep need to mark and assert your territory bubbles up deep down on your belly, flows up through your brain cells and takes over your actions. And just like that, you’re biting his skin harder than before, setting your jaw firm to stamp him with your canines. For a moment, Sungchan still remains oblivious to your actions and everything stays still. But then he’s yelping in surprise and shaking his arm away from you, kneeling up to get it out of your reach.

“Shit, baby. What was that?” He asks, hand going around his elbow and eyes looking at his bicep to inspect this damage. “You almost bit my arm off.”

You finally come to your senses, noticing what you’ve just done, and slip into your docile self again. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, baby. I don’t know what came over me. You were looking so good and I—”

“Well, you didn’t have to actually eat me,” he says with a light tilt to his voice, his thumb tracing the imprint of your teeth on his flesh and showing it to you. “Look, it left a mark.”

You focus on his skin and how the unmistakable dent from your front teeth is formed there. You think it looks beautiful.

“Oh my god, you wanted to do it! This turned you on!” He accuses after gauging your reaction and seeing only satisfaction and possessiveness in your eyes.

You’re caught red handed. But at least you cast down your eyes and bite your underlip in remorse. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You just looked so biteable,” you say sincerely.

He chuckles and lays his body back down on yours, still laughing as he presses a kiss to your lips. “It’s okay, baby. But there will be payback!” You grin at his clear promise of doing the same to you and he shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re turned on by that too, right?”

You nod your head. There’s no reason to lie. He’d see right through you anyway. “Yes, please do it.”

“Naughty girl,” he whispers, shaking his head again and kissing your jaw. He’s back to slowly grind his hips against yours now, but you don’t mind. You love the playful atmosphere that your mishap just set down on you both.

“Com’on, you’re not going to tell me you're turned on by it, too?” You say and he stays silent, moving his lips to your neck now. “I felt your dick twitching when you said it, Sungchan!”

“Okay, okay, I admit it,” he replies with laugh in his voice. “But the real question is: where should I do it?”

You shrug. “You choose. Any place.” You are his anyway, there’s no use hiding it. This will just show it to everyone else.

Sungchan lifts an eyebrow up at you. “Any place?” You nod and his mouth opens in a sly smile. “Okay. How about your ass?”

“I’m okay with that.”

“No, no. I think the back of your thighs will be better,” he says, already slipping out of you and flipping you over so your stomach is pressed on the bed. “Those dickheads at the gym keep looking at them when you’re doing squats. They need to know you’re taken.”

You full on laugh, your shoulders shaking with the force of it as you feel him crouch down, first pressing kisses on your ass cheeks to then move his mouth to your left thigh to pinch the flesh with his teeth.

Despite it hurting a little bit, you smile through it all. He’s a goner for you just as much as you are for him. You’re meant for each other and that’s what matters. Even if it comes with some little bites.

winter, junior year of college

you saw him again on a tuesday, late december. cold enough that your breath curled in the air like smoke, and your gloved hands couldn’t quite keep the wind out.

it had been years.

not just since you’d spoken, but since you’d really seen him—the way you used to, all knees and laughter, the way he’d tilt his head toward you when you talked, like your voice was the only sound that mattered.

but now he was across the street. hair a little longer, his old soccer hoodie peeking out from beneath a heavier coat. for one terrifying second, you thought about turning around and pretending you hadn’t noticed.

except then he looked up and smiled.

the same smile he gave you when you passed him your last piece of gum in middle school. the same one from the night he first kissed you.

you couldn’t move.

age 16, late august

you had grown up with him by your side. if one of you felt lonely, you could rest in the other's arms. you always had a hand to hold, arms to fall back on, and eventually lips to kiss.

you never remembered when you started dating, not really. not in the way other people did—with “will you be mine?” texts and nervous plans for a first date.

it was just you and sungchan, like it had always been. only now there were kisses between sentences and longer hugs when you said goodbye. you marked the date down as august 28th, a quiet kind of ceremony. just a few weeks before his birthday. you were one month shy of turning sixteen, sitting with your knees pressed together on the curb outside your neighborhood.

“you’ve been ditching me all summer,” you’d said, your voice light but your chest tight.

“i haven’t,” he mumbled, eyes on his shoes. “i’ve just… soccer’s been a lot lately.”

“you’ve been hanging out with those other guys more,” you added, quieter this time. “you don’t even walk me home anymore. it's kind of lonely—"

and because he was just a boy who didn’t know how else to tell you that you’d gotten too pretty for him to pretend like you were still just friends, that’s when he kissed you. no warning. no lead-up. just a breath of hesitation and then his lips brushing yours—awkward and fast and kind of stupid, but perfect anyway.

you blinked at him afterward, and then took his hand.

he was your first everything, and you always thought he would be your last.

now

“sungchan,” you said, the name catching in your throat like a splinter.he stepped off the curb and crossed to your side. no hesitation. he looked the same and not at all—older, sure, but still him. still the boy who knew which hand you wrote with and how you took your coffee.

“hey,” he said, breath fogging between you.

you nodded, unsure of what to say.

the last time you talked, you said you didn’t even know who he was anymore. and he left.

now he was standing here again. and all you could think was you're always gonna be someone that i want.

you weren’t planning on seeing him. you were just picking up a drink from the café near the library, the same one you used to sit in together after school. two drinks, one shared brownie. sungchan always said you could have the bigger half, even though you both knew he wanted it.

and now he was here, standing in front of you with snow in his hair and that same quiet kindness in his face.

“it’s really you,” he said, a little breathless.

you smiled, small. “hey.”

he looked down at your gloved hands, then back up. “you’ve been good?”

“i’ve been okay,” you said. “you?”

he nodded. “same. just… here for the holidays.”

you hesitated. “do you—want to walk for a bit?”

he didn’t even need to think. “yeah. sure.”

you walked in silence at first. not the awkward kind, but the kind that used to live between you easily—the kind that said: we don’t need to fill every second. we’re okay.

but things weren’t okay. not really.

you could still remember the last time you walked like this: spring. your last year of high school. the air was warm, but the world felt like it was ending.

he had been quiet that day, hands in his pockets, shoulders tense.

you remember snapping first.

“do you even care that we’re not going to the same school?”

he looked over, surprised. “of course i care.”

“you don’t act like it,” you had said, eyes stinging. “you’re just… letting this happen.”

he frowned. “what do you want me to do, yn? throw away my scholarship? pretend i’m not excited?”

“no,” you said. “i just—i want you to want us as much as i do.”

you didn’t mean to say it. not like that. not like it was his fault. but it was too late. the words were out.

and sungchan, who had always been so gentle with you, took a step back.

“maybe we want different things.”

you didn’t speak after that. not really. not until now.

“still like oat milk?” he asked suddenly, back in the present, hands shoved into his coat.

you blinked. “yeah. how do you—”

he smiled without looking at you. “you always used to complain when they were out.”

you felt something tighten in your chest.

“you remember that?”

“i remember a lot of things,” he said softly.

you walked side by side, hands in your coat pockets, too far apart and yet much too close.

he hadn’t changed much.

taller, maybe. his shoulders broader. his jaw a little sharper under the dim yellow of the streetlamps. but the way he moved—that soft, careful way he always did, like he was afraid of hurting something delicate—that was the same.

you felt it in your chest, sharp and sudden. like a muscle pulling the wrong way.

he turned to you when you hadn’t said anything in a while. “you’re quiet.”

you offered him a small, lopsided smile. “i’ve always been quiet.”

“not with me.”

you looked down. the ache swelled a little deeper as you tried to hold back tears.

you still remembered the way he used to talk to you like you were a secret he didn’t want anyone else to know. how you’d fall asleep on his shoulder after study sessions and wake up to find his fingers tracing patterns on your sleeve. how his voice would go impossibly soft when he said your name.

yn. like it meant something. it still did, at least to you. he nudged your elbow gently. “are you thinking about something?”

you shook your head, then nodded. “just… this feels weird.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. being back here. with you.”

he hummed in agreement. “i didn’t think i’d see you.”

“i didn’t think i’d feel like this.”

the words slipped out before you could stop them. too honest. too raw.

he slowed down just enough to look at you fully. snow settled on his lashes. he didn’t blink.

“feel like what?” he asked.

you looked up at him—this boy you’d loved since before you even knew what love was. your first best friend. your first everything. and now, a stranger you still dreamed about.

you bit your bottom lip, then released it with a shaky breath.

“like i missed you too much to ever say it out loud.”

sungchan’s mouth parted slightly, but he didn’t speak. he just stared at you like he was seeing something he hadn’t let himself look at in years.

and maybe he hadn’t.

your fingers curled tighter inside your pockets. your chest ached, like there wasn’t enough room inside you to hold the truth anymore.

you still loved him.

that love hadn’t gone anywhere. not after the fight. not after the silence. not even after all this time apart. you wondered, quietly, if it ever would.

sungchan was quiet for a moment, too quiet.

and then, just above a whisper, he said, “i missed you too—”

“i should go.”

you said it fast. too fast. your voice barely steady, eyes already flicking away before he could see the way they were starting to shine.

his face shifted, just barely.

“yn—”

“i have to be up early,” you added, like that somehow made it better. like you weren’t just running away from the way your heart had started to crack wide open.

he nodded once. not like he believed you. like he understood anyway.

you stepped back, hands still in your coat pockets so he wouldn’t see them shaking.

“it was nice seeing you,” you said, because what else could you say?

he gave you a small smile. one that didn’t reach his eyes. “yeah. you too.”

then you turned and didn’t look back.

your room was quiet when you got home. too quiet.

you dropped your keys on your desk, kicked your shoes off in the dark, and sat at the edge of your bed like your body wasn’t fully your own. like your heart was still three blocks away, standing beside him in the snow.

you lay down, pulled the blanket over your head, and tried to pretend the ache wasn’t crawling through your ribs. but it was.

you thought about how he looked at you when you said his name. how his voice cracked a little when he said he missed you. how he still remembered your coffee order. how he hadn’t changed, not really. not in the ways that mattered.

you turned onto your side. then your back. then your other side.

the quiet wasn’t peaceful tonight.it pressed in close, loud with memory.

and sometime around 3 a.m., you let yourself cry.

the morning light came slow and gray, spilling across your sheets like it didn’t know what had happened the night before.

your head ached. you sat up, rubbed your eyes, and reached for your phone just to distract yourself. no notifications, except—a message. from sungchan, sent at 8:02 a.m.

sungchan:

hey. can i see you again? just for a little. there’s something i didn’t get to say

you stared at the screen, heart pounding so loudly it felt like it echoed in the room.

flashback — age 17

it was late. the sky outside his window was dark blue and heavy with spring rain. your textbooks were closed, your notes forgotten, and you were curled up beside him on his bed—your back pressed to his chest, his arm draped lazily over your waist.

the sound of the rain and his breathing blurred together, and you felt like you could stay like that forever.

sungchan mumbled into the space behind your ear, half-asleep, “you’re warm.”

you smiled, soft. “you always say that.”

“because it’s always true.”

you shifted slightly to face him, your fingers grazing the edge of his hoodie sleeve. his eyes blinked open, just barely, and the tired look he gave you made something in your chest bloom.

“you okay?” he asked, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. always so careful.

you nodded. “just didn’t want to be alone tonight.”

he pulled you closer, no questions asked.

“you never have to be,” he whispered. “not with me.”

and he meant it. back then, you always had a place to land. a hand to hold. arms to fall into. and eventually—lips to kiss.

he kissed you that night on the couch, the sound of rain soft against the windows. his fingertips brushing your cheek like he wasn’t sure if you were real. you kissed him back like you had been waiting your whole life.

you always had him.

present

you stared at the text on your phone for a long time.

hey. can i see you again? just for a little. there’s something i didn’t get to say

your fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating.

part of you wanted to say no. part of you wanted to protect yourself. but the louder part—the part that still remembered what it felt like to fall asleep in his arms—couldn’t stay quiet.

you:

okay. when and where?

his reply came quickly.

sungchan:

11:30? the hill behind the middle school. where we used to meet after class

your chest tightened.

that hill. the one where he’d wait for you with his soccer ball tucked under one arm and that crooked smile he never gave anyone else. the one you sat on together the day before your first kiss. the one where he told you he loved you and swore he always would.

you pressed your lips together. typed a reply.

you: i’ll be there

you got dressed slowly. layered up for the cold, tucked your hair into a knit hat, and stood in front of the mirror longer than necessary. your eyes were still puffy from crying, but you didn’t try to hide it.

he’d seen you in every season.

your hands were shaking as you tied your boots.

you weren’t sure what he wanted to say. you weren’t sure if you wanted to hear it.

but your feet still carried you out the door, toward him, like they always had.

the hill looked smaller now.

maybe because you were taller. maybe because the past had a way of making things feel bigger than they were. still, the moment you saw it—blanketed in pale winter grass, edges softened by snow—you felt sixteen again.

your breath caught.

sungchan was already there.

he was standing near the top, hands in his coat pockets, head tilted toward the sky like he’d been watching the clouds move. and for a second, he didn’t notice you.

you almost turned back.

but then he looked down—and saw you.

his face softened in a way that felt too easy, like no time had passed at all. he raised one hand in a small wave, like you were meeting after class, like he was just a boy and you were still his girl.

you took a step forward, and then another.

the wind pressed against your coat as you climbed, slow and cautious. the snow crunched gently beneath your boots. he waited, still as anything, eyes fixed on you with something unreadable in them.

you stopped just a few feet away.

“hey,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

“hey,” he replied, like he’d been waiting to say it all morning. like maybe he hadn’t slept either.

for a moment, neither of you said anything.

just the wind. just the distant sound of a car passing on the main road. just your heartbeat, loud in your ears.

“thanks for coming,” he said, shifting his weight slightly. “i didn’t know if you would.”

you looked at him. at his familiar features, his familiar voice, wrapped now in distance and winter.

“you asked,” you said simply. “so i came.”

he smiled—barely. more of a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “you always did.”

his eyes flicked to yours. “i mean it, yn. i missed you.”

the words hung in the air between you, suspended like snowflakes.

you opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

he took a breath.

“can i say the thing now?” he asked gently. “the one i didn’t get to say?”

you nodded, but you weren’t sure you were ready.

“i didn’t want to leave,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “that spring… when everything was changing… it felt like i was losing you, and i didn’t know how to stop it.”

you stared at him, throat tightening.

“i kept thinking if i just waited, if i gave you space, we’d figure it out. that you’d come back. or i would. but then summer came. and then school. and we stopped calling. and it just—”he shook his head.“—it got harder to reach you. and i didn’t know how to fix it. i was scared.”

you blinked fast, but your vision was already blurring. he noticed. he always noticed.

“sungchan…”

“i replay it in my head all the time,” he said, voice cracking. “that last fight. the way you looked at me when you said you didn’t know who i was anymore. i… i know you didn’t mean it. i know. but it stuck. and i thought maybe i really had become someone you couldn’t love.”

you stepped forward instinctively. tears spilled quietly down your cheeks.

“i never stopped loving you,” you whispered. “even when it hurt. even when you didn’t call.”

his expression broke at that—his lips trembling, his brows drawn so tightly that he looked like the boy you used to hold when he cried in your room after bad games and long days.

he took a shaky breath, then said it: "i still love you.”

your chest cracked open like a thaw in the middle of winter. you let out a sound that was part sob, part laugh. your hand came up to cover your mouth, but it was too late—tears streamed freely down your cheeks, warm against the cold.

he took a step toward you, slow and careful, like if he moved too fast you might vanish.

“i still love you,” he said again, softer this time, like it was something sacred. something he hadn’t let himself say out loud until now.

you dropped your hand from your mouth and looked at him—really looked at him.

the boy who used to sit beside you during thunderstorms because you were scared of the dark. the boy who taught you how to ride a bike. the boy who kissed you for the first time under the pink-orange sky of late august and made you believe in forever.

he was crying now too, silently. his eyes shined like they used to when he laughed too hard. you remembered tracing the edge of his lashes once, whispering that he had pretty eyes. he had blushed so red he couldn’t look at you for a full five minutes.

“i didn’t stop loving you either,” you said, voice cracking. “not even for a second.”

he let out a shaky breath, and it sounded like relief and heartbreak and home all at once.

you took a few steps forward until there was barely any space between you. his hand hovered at your side, unsure, and you reached up first, brushing a tear from his cheek with your thumb.

he leaned into it, eyes fluttering shut.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered. “i’m so sorry i didn’t fight harder. that i let us fall apart.”

you shook your head, gently. “we were kids. we didn’t know how to hold something that big. not back then.”

he opened his eyes, glassy and full of everything he hadn’t said for years.

“do you think it’s too late?” he asked.

you smiled through your tears. it hurt. it felt good.

“no,” you whispered. “not if we’re both still here.”

and then, slowly, almost reverently, he wrapped his arms around you—like he was afraid you might disappear again. you melted into him like you never left.

it felt like coming home.

you buried your face in his coat and clung to him as the wind swept gently around you, snow falling again like the sky knew it needed to be quiet for this.

after that snowy morning on the hill, they didn't fix everything overnight. they didn’t pretend the time apart never happened. but they agreed—they wanted to try.

“we’ll figure it out,” sungchan had said, pressing his forehead to yours. “even if it’s messy.”

you nodded, your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie. “i want to try, too.”

so they did.

you went back to your separate schools. different cities, long trains, nights filled with calls that stretched into sleep. it wasn’t easy, but it was worth it.

there were surprise visits: sungchan showed up at your dorm one rainy saturday, soaked and smiling with a plastic bag full of your favorite pastries. he kissed you in the stairwell like he’d been starving.

you booked a last-minute bus ride the night before one of his big games, sitting in the stands wearing his number, bundled in his old hoodie that still smelled like him. he spotted you during warm-ups and smiled so wide he nearly missed the ball.

you cried when he scored, of course. you always did. he ran off the field after the game and lifted you in his arms, spinning you once, twice, like the world was finally giving you back what it owed.

your parents noticed, eventually.

they didn’t say much. just a knowing glance when sungchan came by during spring break and your mom found him helping your dad fix a broken light fixture like no time had passed.

your dad gave him a beer without a word. your mom made too much food, like she used to.

you got a card on valentine’s day—handwritten, all in his slanted, boyish print. on the front: a photo he’d taken of your hill last winter. on the back:

thank you for looking at me like maybe we still had a chance. i think we do. i think we always will. happy valentine’s. i love you. – your sungchan

inside the envelope was a pressed flower. the same kind that grew along the edges of the field behind your high school. you didn’t know how he’d found one in february, but that was sungchan—he always found a way.

spring passed quietly.

your phone buzzed every night with his name. his voice filled the space beside your pillow until you fell asleep. some nights you stayed up talking about nothing—just to hear each other breathe. other nights you shared fears you hadn’t even said out loud to yourselves.

you never ran out of things to say.

when finals season hit, you both fell asleep mid-call more than once, books open on your chests, pages marked by the sound of each other’s voice.

and when the semester finally ended—you drove five hours to meet him at the coast. just the two of you. no plans, no timelines. just sunscreen, laughter, and salt in your hair.

the beach house was old, creaky, full of mismatched furniture and windows that wouldn’t quite close. but it had a view of the sea and a bedroom just big enough to hold you both.

you spent your mornings in the water. your afternoons tangled in warm sheets, chasing each other between laughter and breathless kisses.

sungchan pressed soft kisses to your shoulder while the fan spun lazily overhead. your fingers slid beneath the hem of his t-shirt, slow and sure, just to feel him tremble. he’d always been quiet when he loved you—still, focused, hands reverent like you were something he never thought he’d get back.

you traced his spine with your nails and he groaned into your throat. his fingers found your thigh and pulled you in closer.

you loved him slowly. with aching honesty. with lips pressed to every place that ever felt lonely. he whispered your name like it meant something holy. like he was still trying to memorize the way you felt beneath him.

and afterward, wrapped in sun-warmed blankets, he whispered, “i’m gonna live with you one day.”

you blinked at him, smiling sleepily. “yeah?”

he nodded, brushing hair from your forehead.

“you’re my home. i want to come home to you.”

that day came faster than you thought.

boxes were everywhere. your legs ached from hauling the third load up the stairs, but you didn’t mind. you turned around just in time to see sungchan standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips, his shirt clinging to him from the effort.

“we own way too many things,” he said, stepping over a box.

you shrugged. “they all have emotional value.”

he grinned and leaned down to kiss you, all soft lips and sunshine.

“how does it feel?” he murmured. “being here. with me.”

you looked around at your shared chaos—the future piled into cardboard, the mattress on the floor, the unopened bag of groceries, the two toothbrushes by the sink.

and you smiled.

“like spring turning into summer,” you said. “slow. warm. right. and now i'm here forever, running back to you, always."

he kissed you again. deeper this time. and everything—every winter between you—finally melted away.

permanent taglist: @karebearyu

you turn your head a little to face him, guilt washing over you at the look in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that” you quiver. sungchan just shakes his head to reassure you. “could you tell everyone I just need some time?” 

“I will, don’t worry” he hums. “after I get you off this couch though… do you wanna talk about it?” 

at his question, you feel your eyes start to burn and the corner of your lips turn down. “I-“ you start, but your voice trembles. sungchan moves his hand from his head to yours, tucking your hair behind your ear as a comforting gesture as you lay in front of him, helpless. “sungchan, I just fell into this hole so fast and I don’t know how to get back up. I didn’t mean to worry you, but how could I tell anyone when I don’t even know how I got here?” 

“you don’t have to go through any of this alone,” he offers a small smile, hand still in your hair. “you know that, right yn? we care about you… I care about you. and nothing specific needs to happen for everything to come crashing down… but how you ended up here doesn’t really matter now, does it?

your gaze is fixated on his. you can see your reflection in his shining eyes, screaming at you to let him in. there’s a strong flame burning in his irises, waiting for you behind gentle blinks. a tender need held together by a vivid dream that he keeps having every night, filled with you. and only you. 

the tears start flowing like a dam just broke. 

sungchan catches each drop with a swipe of his thumb, as if they were falling stars. “I didn’t mean to make you worry” you plead between hiccups. “I just didn’t think it mattered.” 

he lets out a defeated sigh, detaching himself from you to stand up. “sit up, yn” he orders from above and you obey. as you move to a normal sitting position on the cushions, feet on the floor, sungchan goes to sit next to you. as soon as he does, his hands are on you again.

the boy scoops one arm behind your knees, tugging on them to move your body to face him once more rather than into the space of your living room. you yelp at the sudden movements, gripping onto the back of the sofa in support. once he’s satisfied, meaning he can see your face head on, his hands manipulate your legs into a criss cross position before finally resting lightly on your exposed thighs. 

“you matter to me, yn! what’s it gonna take for you to accept that?” while he’s not yelling or raising his voice, sungchan is firm in every word he speaks. his eyes are blown wide, once again pouring everything he’s got into your own. “not just me, but everyone else around you. I never want you to feel like you have to hide, okay? you don’t need to go all silent when you’re not fine, it’s normal to break. you’re allowed to and I want all your bad days as much as I want your good days.” 

all you can do is stare up at him, a multitude of emotions swimming through the tears you’ve stored for so long. your lip quivers again as you take it all in, take him in until your resolve crumbles completely. launching forward on your knees, your arms wrap around sungchans shoulders as you sob into his neck. he’s quick to catch you, hands rubbing soothingly up and down your back.

no one has ever came to you like this. your best friends loved you in a way where they waited patiently outside the iron gates you have built around yourself. knocking once to let you know they were there for you whenever you were ready, while sungchan came barreling in with his heart loaded in a cannon, knocking it all down in just a few tries. when sungchan finds something, or someone, he finds worthy, he pounds on every single door until they come out from their hiding place. even a tiny glimpse of what he’s longing for is enough for him to bare everything out and keep going. 

it’s scary. it’s a lot, but it’s jung sungchan. what he thinks is deserved is given without a second thought. and sungchan usually thinks you deserve patience, understanding, reassurance in presence, and a lot of care. but right now, he thinks you need a little bit of hard truth. 

“you mean a lot to me, but I’m not trying to fix you, yn” he mumbles into your hair, holding you tighter. “I just like you, even with the cracks.” 

TWENTY NINE - crumbling

⁂ when a girl who just can't be tied down meets a boy who wears his heart on his sleeve, they’re both in for a hell of a ride!

PREVIOUS / NEXT

AU MASTERLIST

mani’s notes: hello hello I hope everyone is having a nice holiday weekend!! went Black Friday shopping and bought me a coach bag on sale for $180 😋

The crowd at Music Bank Lisbon roared so loudly I felt the sound vibrate through my ribs. Lights flared, screens shimmered, and for one dizzy second I thought the whole arena was breathing in rhythm. When the stage lights shifted to reveal Riize, the noise became a wave.

I had waited months for this—nights replaying performances, learning choreography, memorizing every lyric. Now Jung Sungchan stood only meters away, microphone glinting in his hand, his smile sharp and unreal. I lifted my phone to capture the moment, half afraid it would blur like a dream.

For an instant, Sungchan’s gaze brushed the crowd and stopped. On me.

I froze, certain I must have imagined it. Then the beat dropped, and he turned away, swallowed again by the light and sound.

When the concert ended, the world felt quieter, smaller. My phone buzzed with notifications, but one photo made my breath catch: Sungchan mid-turn, eyes unmistakably meeting the lens—as if he had seen me. I stared at it until the arena lights dimmed completely.

Weeks later, Lisbon settled back into its ordinary rhythm: the tram bells, the river breeze, the smell of roasted chestnuts in the streets. I was trying to return to work, to normal days, yet that single photo glowed at the edge of every thought. I told myself it was nothing—just timing, chance, pixels.

Still, sometimes I opened the picture and felt that same tremor of recognition, as though it carried a secret meant for me alone.

______________________________________________________________

Months slipped past. The brightness of that night blurred into memory, yet the photo remained pinned to my mind like a bookmark. Each time I looked at it, I felt the same pull—not toward fame or fantasy, but toward possibility. Maybe this was the sign I needed, a reminder that some dreams waited only for courage.

And so, when the job offer from Seoul arrived—a design position at Vivid Seoul Magazine—I didn’t hesitate.

______________________________________________________________

The weeks before the flight blurred into a rush of packing lists, visa papers, and sleepless nights spent wondering if I was doing the right thing. Yet beneath the nerves was a quiet thrill. For years I had dreamed of living abroad, of building something on my own terms.

When the day came, Porto’s sky was washed in soft gold. Sofia drove me to the airport and insisted on carrying the heaviest suitcase, muttering that friendship had weight limits. We both laughed, hugged for too long, and pretended not to notice the tears in each other’s eyes.

“Promise you’ll call the second you land,” Sofia said, forcing a grin. “I will,” I replied, voice steadier than what I felt.

As the plane rose over the river, the city shrank to a mosaic of light. I pressed my forehead to the window, letting the distance sink in.

By the time I stepped into the crisp air outside Incheon Airport, exhaustion and excitement tangled in my chest. The city unfolded before me in glass and motion—neon, billboards, and traffic weaving through the night. Everything looked alive, as if it had been waiting for my arrival.

My small apartment was exactly what the photos had promised: bright, compact, and perched high enough that I could see the Han River in the distance. I unpacked slowly, humming the last song Riize had performed in Lisbon. It echoed faintly in my memory, tethering the two cities together.

I sent Sofia a quick message: I made it. It’s beautiful here.Then I stood by the window, watching Seoul shimmer awake beneath me.

______________________________________________________________

Monday came sooner than I was ready for. The offices of Vivid Seoul Magazine occupied three glossy floors of a downtown tower. Inside, the air smelled faintly of coffee and new paper.

I adjusted the strap of my tote and told myself to breathe.

“First day?” a voice asked as I waited for the elevator.

A young woman with a bob haircut and a bright smile extended her hand. “I’m Hana, editorial assistant. You must be y/n from Portugal.”

“That obvious?”

“Only because everyone’s been talking about the new designer.”

The elevator chimed. Hana led me through a maze of desks, introducing names I immediately forgot. The office buzzed with quiet energy—clicking keyboards, the murmur of ideas, the whir of printers.

My workspace sat near a tall window overlooking the river. I dropped my bag, exhaled, and tried not to stare at the skyline.

“Coffee machine’s in the break room,” Hana said. “We live on caffeine here.”

I smiled. “That makes us colleagues and survivors.”

By noon, the inbox was already full. I leaned over the tablet, sketching layout options for an upcoming feature, when a ripple of voices rose behind me.

“They’re here,” someone whispered, half-giddy.

I looked up. A small entourage was moving through the corridor—managers, stylists, and seven familiar faces. Riize.

My heart tripped. I blinked, half expecting my imagination to be playing tricks. But no—there was Jung Sungchan, in the middle of the group, tall and effortless, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth as he listened to the photographer.

I ducked my head, pretending to focus on the sketches, pulse thundering so loudly I barely heard Hana calling my name.

______________________________________________________________

The photoshoot was scheduled for the next morning. I arrived early, clutching a clipboard that felt heavier than it should. The studio buzzed with quiet urgency—technicians adjusting lights, stylists unpacking racks of clothes, the faint scent of makeup and fabric steam in the air.

“First big project,” Hana whispered, eyes wide. “They’re shooting the cover story today. You’ll do fine.”

I smiled, though my palms were damp. “Just another day at work,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t tremble.

When the elevator doors opened, the atmosphere shifted. Riize entered, surrounded by staff, their presence drawing the room’s energy toward them. The sound of camera shutters paused, then resumed as greetings filled the air.

I focused on my tasks—checking layouts, confirming lighting plans—but every so often my eyes drifted toward the group. Sungchan laughed at something one of the stylists said, his expression easy, almost boyish. For a moment, the bright Seoul studio blurred into the memory of the Lisbon stage lights.

He turned then, scanning the room, and his gaze landed on me. The recognition was brief but unmistakable. Something flickered behind his calm expression—curiosity, perhaps—and then he looked away.

Hana nudged me gently. “You okay?” “Fine,” I murmured, flipping through pages that I could no longer read.

______________________________________________________________

Hours passed in a rhythm of flashes and movement. I worked quietly at the edge of the set, updating the design board as each look changed. Every time Sungchan stepped before the camera, I caught myself studying the small details—the way he adjusted his jacket, the way he met the lens as if telling a secret.

During a break, the coordinator approached my desk. “We need an extra set of eyes on the preview monitor. The director wants someone from design to double-check the framing.”

I hesitated, then nodded. “Of course.”

When I reached the monitor, Sungchan was already there, towel draped around his neck, watching playback with one of the photographers. He glanced sideways and smiled politely. “You’re from Vivid, right?”

“Yes,” I said, grateful that my voice worked. “I’m checking layout alignment.”

He nodded, attention returning to the screen. “Do you usually look this serious when working?” he asked softly, a teasing note in his tone.

I blinked, caught off guard. “Only when the lighting tries to ruin the design.”

Sungchan chuckled. “Then we’ll blame the lights.”

The photographer called him back, and just like that he was gone again—pulled into another sequence of poses and movements that left me both exhilarated and slightly dazed.

______________________________________________________________

By the end of the day, the studio smelled of coffee and exhaustion. The final shots were approved, laughter rippled through the team, and someone suggested celebratory tteokbokki from a nearby stall.

I lingered to gather my things. As I zipped my bag, I heard a voice behind me.

“You work fast.”

I turned. Sungchan stood by the doorway, still in his stage outfit, hair slightly tousled.

“I try,” I said, smiling. “You perform faster.”

He grinned. “That’s part of the job.” For a heartbeat, silence stretched between us—not awkward, but charged with the kind of recognition that felt both impossible and familiar.

“It was a good shoot,” he said finally. “Maybe we’ll see you again in the next issue.”

“Maybe,” I echoed.

He gave a small wave and disappeared down the hall. I exhaled slowly, the city’s neon glow spilling through the studio windows like a reminder that my new life was only beginning.

______________________________________________________________

The days that followed unfolded in a blur of edits, meetings, and half-finished coffees. Seoul’s rhythm was relentless but comforting—each morning beginning with the hum of traffic below my apartment, each night ending in the soft flicker of city lights through my curtains.

At Vivid, I was quickly becoming known for my precision and quiet determination. I learned the shortcuts through the subway, the best kimbap stall near the office, and how to order my favorite latte in hesitant Korean.

When the Riize cover went live, the issue sold out within hours. The office buzzed with excitement, screens filled with comments and reposts. Hana grinned at me across our desks. “Your layout’s everywhere,” she said, sliding her phone over to show me a clip from the group’s behind-the-scenes vlog.

In the video, Sungchan laughed mid-interview, saying something about the “really focused designer” who barely looked up from her work all day. The comment was casual, tossed between jokes, but it made my pulse stutter.

Hana caught my expression and smirked. “Focused designer, huh? Wonder who that could be.”

I rolled my eyes, but the warmth in my cheeks betrayed me. “Coincidence.”

“Sure,” Hana teased. “Coincidences that smile at you on camera.”

______________________________________________________________

As the weeks passed, my confidence grew. My designs were being requested for more projects, and I began attending editorial meetings, learning how the magazine balanced art and marketing. Every so often, I passed Riize posters in subway stations—flashes of color and charisma that still felt surreal.

One Friday afternoon, my manager called me into a meeting. The brief was simple but thrilling: a full interview spread with Riize, shot across several Seoul landmarks.

“You’ll coordinate with the creative team and the group’s management,” he said. “You already worked on their visuals once—it makes sense to keep the style consistent.”

My heart skipped. “Of course. I’ll handle it.”

Hana grinned after the meeting. “Fate really likes you.”

I shook my head, smiling. “Or it likes chaos.”

______________________________________________________________

The next week unfolded in flashes of color and motion. The Riize feature would span several Seoul landmarks—Namsan Tower, Ikseon-dong, and a rooftop near the Han River at sunset.

I spent my mornings coordinating outfits and layouts, my afternoons running between sets with design drafts tucked under my arm. It was exhausting, exhilarating work—the kind that left ink smudges on my fingers and satisfaction in my chest.

By the time the team reached the rooftop shoot, the sky had softened into gold. The skyline glowed, the river winding below like a sheet of glass. Music played low from a portable speaker; someone was laughing near the catering table.

I adjusted a banner along the edge of the set when I heard a familiar voice.

“Careful. The wind’s strong up here.”

I turned. Sungchan stood a few feet away, one hand shielding his eyes from the sun. He wasn’t in front of the camera yet—just watching the city.

“Thanks,” I said, gripping the banner before it could flutter loose. “Wouldn’t want the logo to take flight.”

He smiled. “It’d make a good story, though. Designer loses brand logo to the Han River.”

“Not the headline I’m going for,” I said with a quiet laugh.

He walked closer, hands tucked in his jacket pockets. “You seem calmer this time.”

“This time?”

“At the studio, you looked like you were trying not to breathe.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “You noticed that?”

Sungchan nodded. “I notice things.”

Something about his tone made my chest tighten, but before I could answer, the photographer called him to the set.

“Duty calls,” he said lightly, giving me a small wave before turning to join the group.

I watched him go, heart caught somewhere between amusement and nerves. I returned to my notes, though my focus kept slipping toward the sound of his laughter drifting through the evening air.

______________________________________________________________

When the shoot wrapped, the team gathered for dinner at a small restaurant tucked behind Hongdae. The table was crowded with dishes—grilled meat, sizzling kimchi, and too many side plates to count. Conversation ebbed and flowed in English, Korean, and laughter.

Hana leaned over to whisper, “He keeps looking this way.”

I pretended not to understand. “Who?”

Hana just arched a brow.

Across the table, Sungchan was listening to Shotaro’s story, but his gaze flickered toward me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. It wasn’t bold—just quiet, lingering glances that warmed the edges of the room.

After dinner, most of the team drifted out toward taxis, but Sungchan lingered near the doorway, waiting.

“Heading home?” he asked when I stepped outside.

I nodded. “Trying to, at least. I still get lost after one wrong turn.”

“Then I’ll walk you to the station.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he said simply.

We fell into step together. The air smelled faintly of rain and roasted corn from a nearby vendor. The city pulsed around us, neon signs reflecting off wet pavement.

“You know, I remember you from Lisbon,” he admitted after a moment.

My breath caught. “From Lisbon?” I asked.

He nodded, smiling faintly. “I vividly remember you back at the concert. I saw your face as clear as day.”

I blinked. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.” He looked ahead, hands in his pockets. “It’s strange, right? Seeing someone once and then again like this.”

“Like the universe forgot to separate timelines,” I said softly.

Sungchan chuckled. “Something like that.”

We reached the station entrance. For a moment, neither of us moved. The sounds of Seoul—the trains, the chatter, the heartbeat of the city—faded into the background.

“See you at the next shoot?” he asked.

“Definitely,” I said, smiling.

He grinned. “Good.”

______________________________________________________________

Today was the magazine’s anniversary party, and it seemed to have arrived sooner than expected—a rooftop event overlooking the city skyline, all string lights and champagne. I wore a sleek black dress borrowed from Hana and a nervous smile I couldn’t quite shake.

The night was warm, music humming through the air. Editors mingled with models and photographers, laughter rippling like wind through glass.

I stood near the railing, sipping from a flute of sparkling water, when a voice behind me said, “You clean up well.”

I turned, heart skipping. Sungchan.

“You too,” I said, eyes catching the faint gleam of silver at his collar. “You’re not on the clock tonight?”

“Technically no,” he said. “But I owe the magazine one social appearance.”

We drifted toward a quieter corner, conversation flowing more easily than it should have between a designer and a public figure. He asked about my work, my favorite places in Seoul, and my adjustment to city life. I asked about the chaos of promotions and the pressure of constant attention.

“It’s weird,” he said. “Being known but not really seen.”

I nodded. “I get that. Just… from the other side.”

Our eyes met, and something unspoken stretched between us—recognition, maybe, or the fragile start of understanding.

Before either of us could say more, a staff member called him for a photo. He gave me an apologetic look. “Work never really stops.”

“I know the feeling,” I said.

He laughed, and for a moment, it felt like the city had shrunk to just the two of us, framed by lights and night air.

______________________________________________________________

Later, when most guests had gone and the music had softened, I lingered by the railing again. Below me, the Han River glowed faintly. I thought about Lisbon, about that concert, and how impossible this would have seemed then.

A quiet voice broke through my thoughts.

“Still thinking about escaping?”

I turned—Sungchan again, holding two paper cups of tea.

“Just getting some air,” I said, smiling as he handed me one.

We stood side by side, steam curling between us.

“I don’t know what this is,” he said finally, voice low, pointing between us. “But I’d like to find out.”

I looked up at him, heart hammering. “Me too.”

The city around us blurred into soft light and distance. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The hum of traffic below mixed with the faint rhythm of music still drifting from the party.

Sungchan shifted closer, his voice barely above the wind. “You make it hard to think straight, you know that?”

I smiled faintly, heart trembling. “Maybe that’s fair. You make it hard to breathe.”

He laughed quietly, the sound low and warm, then grew still. The air between us seemed to thicken—not heavy, just charged, as if the skyline itself was holding its breath.

When he reached out, his fingers brushed a strand of hair from my face, lingering just long enough for my pulse to catch. I didn’t move away.

The silence broke not with words, but with closeness—the slow, inevitable pull forward until his forehead rested against mine. My eyes closed, and in that suspended heartbeat, everything that had been unsaid found its answer.

The kiss was unhurried, a meeting rather than a conquest—soft, searching, full of the tenderness that had been building for months. When we finally parted, the night felt different, quieter somehow.

He exhaled, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Now I really can’t think straight.”

I laughed, breathless. “Good.”

The morning after the rooftop event, the city felt slower somehow, and sometimes, in the middle of a meeting or a crowded train, I would feel the echo of that night—the warmth of his breath near my ear, the way his voice had softened when the city fell quiet. It was a memory that didn’t ask to be remembered; it simply stayed.

______________________________________________________________

I woke to sunlight spilling through half-drawn curtains and the faint buzz of my phone. Messages from coworkers filled my screen—photos from the night before, blurry laughter caught in motion.

I smiled, scrolling until one image made me pause. It was a group shot from the end of the party: Riize members, editors, stylists—and there, just at the edge, Sungchan beside me, his gaze tilted slightly toward me instead of the camera.

Something fluttered in my chest.

That afternoon, at the office, I sat at my desk with my third cup of coffee, pretending to read layout drafts. The chatter of meetings and ringing phones faded beneath the quiet echo of that photo.

By the time dusk settled, I was the last one left in the design department. The city glowed beyond the windows, streets pulsing with neon and life.

I opened my phone gallery, scrolling back through the months—to Lisbon, to that first concert, to the photo. Sungchan mid-turn, eyes fixed on mine across the sea of faces.

I hadn’t looked at it in weeks. But now, it pulled me in again, sharper, more alive than before.

It wasn’t the coincidence I once convinced myself it was.

The phone buzzed suddenly, lighting up with an unfamiliar number.

[Unknown number]: Hey. This is Shotaro :) Hope I’m not intruding.

I blinked. Then—

[Unknown number]: Sungchan mentioned you might like coffee. We’re at a small place near your office tomorrow if you’re free.

My stomach flipped.

It was too casual to be random.

I typed quickly: [Me]: Sure. What time? [Shotaro]: Around three. Don’t worry—it’s not an ambush.

I smiled despite myself. Which means it’s definitely an ambush, I thought.

______________________________________________________________

The next afternoon was unusually cool for late spring. I left the office with my nerves bundled tighter than my scarf. The café sat on a narrow side street in Hapjeong—wooden sign, ivy along the walls, soft lo-fi music spilling through the door.

When I stepped inside, I froze. All seven members of Riize were there.

They looked impossibly normal—hunched over mugs, laughing about something on Shotaro’s phone, sunlight catching on glass and steam.

Shotaro noticed me first. “You came!” he cheered, waving me over.

Sungchan looked up at the sound. His expression faltered just for a heartbeat before he smiled, standing slightly as I approached.

“Hi,” I said, keeping my tone even. “Hi,” he echoed.

“Sit, sit!” Shotaro insisted, sliding a chair out beside him—conveniently right next to Sungchan. “We ordered too much already.”

Wonbin grinned. “Always do.”

The conversation unfolded easily. We talked about music, food, the chaos of photo shoots. Eunseok asked about Portugal; Sohee wanted to know my favorite Korean dish. The atmosphere was easy, familiar—like a group of friends instead of idols and a magazine designer.

Every so often, I caught Sungchan watching me. Not intensely, not deliberately—just those small glances that carried quiet warmth.

When Shotaro mentioned the Lisbon concert, my heart stilled.

“You were there, right?” he said.

I nodded carefully. “I was.”

“Sungchan remembered,” Shotaro added, grinning. “Said there was someone in the crowd he couldn’t forget.”

Laughter erupted around the table, but I couldn’t look away from Sungchan. His ears had turned pink, but he didn’t deny it.

“I just meant—” he started, then stopped, eyes meeting mine. “You stood out.”

Sohee gasped theatrically. “Oh, this is a drama.”

Anton made a heart shape with his hands. “Episode one: fate at first sight.”

I laughed, half mortified, half giddy. “You guys are terrible.”

Sungchan shook his head, smiling helplessly. “Ignore them. They live for chaos.”

But I noticed how his voice softened when he spoke to me, how he leaned closer when I laughed.

As the afternoon faded into evening, the others began to leave one by one. Soon, only Sungchan and I remained at the table, the empty mugs cooling between us.

He looked at me, quieter now. “I didn’t expect to see you again. Not really.”

“Neither did I.”

He hesitated. “But I’m glad I did.”

Something in the way he said it made my pulse skip.

We left the café together, walking down the narrow street toward the station. The late sun painted everything in amber. Our shoulders brushed once, twice. Neither of us moved away.

At the subway entrance, he stopped. “Can I, maybe, see you again?”

I smiled softly. “Maybe.”

His lips curved into that slow, knowing grin I was already beginning to recognize. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

______________________________________________________________

That night, I couldn’t sleep. The city outside my window felt too alive, every sound electric.

I pulled up the Lisbon photo one last time. The moment that had once felt like a dream now pulsed with meaning.

It wasn’t just a memory anymore.

It was the beginning of something real.

______________________________________________________________

If someone had told me six months ago that I’d be spending my Friday nights with Riize, I would have laughed. Now, it just felt strangely normal.

My phone buzzed late that afternoon. [Shotaro]: Hey y/naa~ You doing anything tonight? [Me]: That depends. Is this a trap? [Shotaro]: Not a trap! Just a few of us hanging out at the studio. Food, games, Sungchan pretending he doesn’t care that you’re coming.

I snorted at my desk.

[Shotaro]: Bring your sass too. 7 PM.

______________________________________________________________

The studio was warm when I arrived, the faint smell of takeout mixing with laughter. Blankets were spread across the floor, a projector hummed softly against the far wall. The boys had turned their rehearsal space into something between a movie night and a dorm party.

“Y/n!” Shotaro waved dramatically from across the room. “You made it!”

I grinned. “You didn’t really give me a choice.”

“Exactly!” he said proudly, thrusting a soda into my hand.

Sungchan appeared from the corner, casual in a gray hoodie and sweats, hair falling slightly over his eyes. The noise of the room dimmed for me in that instant.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Hey,” I replied.

He looked like he wanted to say more, but Wonbin shouted something about cheating in a game, and chaos resumed.

______________________________________________________________

They played rounds of charades and dance challenges that spiraled into laughter. Eunseok turned out to be a ruthless competitor, Anton the comedic relief. I found myself at ease, trading jokes in a mix of English and broken Korean.

Sungchan wasn’t loud like the others. He drifted between helping Sohee with the snacks and watching the games, his attention occasionally flicking toward me. Each time our eyes met, my stomach fluttered.

When I sat too close to Shotaro during one round, I noticed Sungchan’s jaw tighten slightly—an involuntary tic that vanished as soon as I caught it.

Later, when the laughter died down and the projector light dimmed, Shotaro stretched and yawned. “Alright, I’m calling it. Some of us have early schedules.”

One by one, the group began to gather their things, leaving goodbyes and half-finished snacks behind.

Sungchan lingered. So did I.

When the last of them disappeared through the door, the studio fell quiet except for the hum of the city outside.

He sat cross-legged on the floor, looking up at me. “Did you have fun?”

I smiled. “I did. Though I think Sohee’s secretly training for the Olympics.”

He laughed softly. “Yeah, he’s competitive.”

“Understatement.”

Silence stretched again, comfortable this time. The neon light from the window washed everything in soft pink.

Sungchan leaned back on his hands. “You know, I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Why?”

He hesitated. “Because you don’t seem like the type to get pulled into idol chaos.”

I tilted my head. “You’re not wrong.”

“Then why did you?”

I paused. “Maybe I was curious.”

“About me?” he asked, tone light but edged with sincerity.

I met his gaze. “Maybe.”

The air thickened between us, the kind of silence that hums with all the words neither dared to say.

“You don’t seem like someone who plays games,” I said quietly.

“I don’t,” he answered. “Not when it matters.”

Something unspoken passed between us.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “So what is this, then?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “But I want to find out.”

My pulse quickened. I didn’t move, didn’t speak. The distance between us was small, but heavy with the promise of something new.

A door creaked. Shotaro’s head appeared, grinning wickedly. “Are you two done conspiring?”

Sungchan rolled his eyes. “Perfect timing, as always.”

I laughed, tension dissolving with the sound.

______________________________________________________________

Outside, the air was cool and smelled faintly of rain. We walked together toward the streetlights, neither rushing the moment.

At my stop, I turned to him. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Anytime,” he said, smiling that slow, careful smile that made my chest ache.

As the subway doors slid open, I hesitated—caught between leaving and staying. Then, before I could change my mind, I leaned in and kissed him. It was brief, soft, but real—the kind of kiss that made the world go quiet for a heartbeat.

When I pulled back, he was still smiling, eyes a little wide, cheeks flushed.

“Goodnight,” he said, voice low and warm.

“Goodnight,” I whispered, stepping into the train, my lips still tingling as the doors slid shut behind me.

______________________________________________________________

The next morning, the office felt too bright. Jiyoung from layout leaned over my desk, eyes sharp. “You’re glowing. Spill.”

I blinked innocently. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you dare play dumb,” Jiyoung said. “You were with him last night, weren’t you?”

Minseo, passing by with her coffee, raised a brow. “Sungchan?”

I groaned. “Oh my god.”

“Called it!” Jiyoung cheered.

“I didn’t say it was a date,” I said, trying to hide my smile.

“But it was,” Minseo said flatly, grinning. “And you’re terrible at lying.”

I tried to focus on my screen, but my thoughts refused to settle. Every keystroke seemed to echo with his voice, every pause replayed that quiet moment in the studio—the honesty, the pull, the possibility.

______________________________________________________________

That night, I sat by my window, watching the lights along the Han River flicker in the distance. The city was loud, but my world felt small and still.

For the first time since leaving home, I wasn’t chasing something. I had simply found it.

______________________________________________________________

Days folded softly into one another after that night.

There were no grand gestures, no confessions—just a steady rhythm that built itself around quiet moments.

Sometimes, Sungchan stopped by Vivid Seoul under the pretense of follow-up interviews. Other times, he appeared outside the office with two takeaway coffees, pretending it was coincidence.

“Thought you would like this coffee,” he’d say casually, handing me a cup.

“You’re very kind,” I’d reply.

Our meetings were simple—coffee runs, late studio visits, brief lunches squeezed between schedules. But every time we parted, I caught myself smiling longer than I should.

Hana noticed, of course. “You have a look,” she teased one afternoon as I stared too long at my phone.

“What look?”

“The look of someone getting texted by a celebrity.”

I rolled my eyes, though my blush betrayed me. “He’s just a friend.”

“Sure,” Hana said. “And I’m the editor-in-chief.”

______________________________________________________________

On quiet nights, Sungchan and I found small ways to exist just outside of the world’s gaze.

We met at a bookstore café, tucked in a back corner where the noise faded into the smell of paper and rain.

He wore caps pulled low, I kept my voice soft, and together we built a space that felt both hidden and infinite.

One evening, he showed me a playlist he’d made. “Songs I can’t play on stage,” he said.

I listened, earbud shared between us, as the music shifted from soft R&B to delicate piano instrumentals. It wasn’t glamorous—it was human. And that was what made it beautiful.

When the playlist ended, I whispered, “Do you ever wish you weren’t famous?”

Sungchan smiled faintly. “Sometimes. But then I think… maybe I just wish I could be seen by the right people, for the right reasons.”

My heart tightened. “You are.”

He looked at me then—really looked. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

Our hands brushed, fingers almost touching. Almost.

______________________________________________________________

The first strain came quietly.

A rumor surfaced online—a grainy photo of Sungchan leaving a café with someone blurred beside him. No names, no faces, but enough for fans to speculate.

By morning, the office was buzzing. Hana leaned across my desk, phone in hand. “You’ve seen this, right?”

My stomach dropped. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

I forced a smile. “It’s Seoul. Everyone has a doppelgänger.”

But inside, my thoughts spiraled.

That night, I met Sungchan in our usual café, both wearing the kind of caution that didn’t suit us.

“People are talking,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “It’s not your fault.”

He hesitated. “Still, maybe we should… lay low for a bit.”

The words stung more than I expected. “You mean stop seeing each other.”

“Just until things calm down.”

I looked away, blinking against the weight in my chest. “Right. For the fans.”

“That’s not fair,” he said softly.

“Neither is this,” I whispered.

The silence that followed wasn’t angry—it was just sad. Two people standing on opposite sides of the same reality.

When we finally said goodbye, it wasn’t with anger, but with an ache that lingered long after.

______________________________________________________________

Work became my refuge. I buried myself in design boards, layout drafts, and long nights at the office. The hum of the printer replaced the sound of his voice.

But sometimes, when I walked past the café we used to visit, I’d glance through the window, half-expecting to see him there.

Once, I did.

He was alone, hoodie pulled low, staring out at the street. I stopped across the road, unseen, and for a heartbeat, time folded in on itself—the distance between us measured in more than space.

I didn’t go in, but I thought of the way his fingers had once brushed mine, of how easily the smallest touch had spoken louder than any confession. Now, even from across the street, I could almost feel that same nearness—an ache shaped like memory.

______________________________________________________________

That night, I wandered the city without a destination. The glow of streetlights bled into puddles on the pavement, and for the first time since arriving in Seoul, I felt its vastness press in.

I stopped by the river, watching the lights move across the water and thinking how love and distance often looked the same—both shimmering, both unreachable. When I finally went home, I worked until dawn, my designs growing softer, more personal, each one carrying a trace of him.

______________________________________________________________

Weeks passed before I saw him again.

The magazine was covering Seoul Fashion Night, a high-profile event buzzing with designers, influencers, and celebrities.

I was there to assist the photography team, juggling camera batteries and color boards.

When Riize arrived, the crowd surged. Cameras flashed, fans screamed. Sungchan looked every bit the star he was—poised, calm, untouchable.

Our eyes met across the chaos. For a second, the noise fell away. He didn’t smile. Neither did I.

But something in his gaze said wait.

And I did.

______________________________________________________________

Later, when the lights dimmed and the show ended, I found him in the backstage corridor.

“You look like you could use coffee,” he said quietly.

I exhaled, half-laughing. “You still owe me one.”

We stood there for a moment, surrounded by the hum of crew voices and the distant bass of after-show music. It wasn’t the perfect reconciliation, but it was real—two people choosing to find their rhythm again in a world that kept trying to pull them apart.

We didn’t speak much that night.

The city outside the event hall buzzed with post-show traffic, cameras flashing in the distance as fans lingered. Sungchan walked me to the curb, where the noise faded just enough for breath to steady.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

I nodded.

We ended up at a late-night diner a few blocks away—a place where no one looked twice at two tired people sharing a booth. The fluorescent light hummed softly, the air filled with the scent of coffee and fried dough.

Neither of us touched our food.

“I didn’t mean for things to get so… complicated,” he said finally. “I just thought if I stepped back, it would protect you.”

I traced the rim of my cup. “From what? People already make up stories. At least the truth is ours.”

He looked at me then, eyes heavy but clear. “You’re braver than I am.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” he said quietly. “You moved to another country. You built a life from scratch. And I—” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been hiding behind schedules and an image for so long I forgot what being honest feels like.”

I smiled softly. “You just did it.”

His laugh was quiet, genuine. “Maybe I’m learning.”

We stayed until the diner lights dimmed, trading small stories and long silences. When we left, the streets were nearly empty, rain whispering on the pavement.

At the corner, he stopped. “Can I walk you home?”

“You always ask like I’ll say no,” I teased.

“One day, you might.”

“Not tonight.”

He smiled, relief flickering across his face.

We didn’t hold hands. We didn’t need to. The distance between us had already shifted.

What followed wasn’t dramatic—it was quiet, patient, real.

______________________________________________________________

We met when we could: late dinners, hidden cafés, short walks by the river when schedules allowed. I stopped counting days between messages and started counting moments that felt normal—shared laughter, comfortable silence, the weight of his hoodie draped around my shoulders when the wind turned cold.

At Vivid, I worked harder than ever. My designs started gaining attention; I was invited to collaborate on a feature highlighting emerging creatives in Seoul.

When the editor asked me to design a concept titled “Finding You in Seoul,” I smiled faintly at the irony.

During one late-night editing session, my phone buzzed.

[Sungchan]: Still working? [Sungchan]: Come outside.

I frowned, typing back: You’re joking.

But when I stepped into the cool night air, he was there—hood up, holding two cups of coffee.

“I figured you’d need fuel,” he said, grinning.

“You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he said, handing me a cup. “But I’m here.”

We sat on the building steps, watching the empty streetlights flicker. The world felt suspended—just the hum of electricity and the warmth of the cup in my hands.

“Sometimes I forget you’re not a dream,” I said quietly.

He glanced sideways. “That’s funny. I think the same thing about you.”

______________________________________________________________

Weeks passed, soft and steady, until one evening changed everything.

Sungchan was quieter than usual when we met at our favorite café. The space smelled of cinnamon and old books; outside, rain streaked down the windows.

He stirred his drink without drinking it. “The company wants to send us overseas for a few months—promotions, variety shows. It’s a good opportunity.”

“That’s great,” I said, forcing a smile.

He looked at me. “It also means disappearing for a while. No calls. No texts.”

The words hung heavy between us.

I tried to make it light. “Occupational hazard of dating a celebrity, right?”

But my voice cracked halfway through.

He reached across the table, fingers brushing mine. “I don’t want to lose this.”

“You won’t,” I said. “But you should go. You’ve worked for this.”

His eyes searched mine. “And what about you?”

“I’ll still be here,” I said softly. “Designing, surviving, maybe missing you a little too much.”

He smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s already too much.”

We sat in silence, the kind that pressed warmth and ache into the same heartbeat.

The way he looked at me now carried the same softness as that first night on the rooftop—the same quiet awe, as if every time he saw me, he was still a little surprised I was real.

When he finally stood to leave, I whispered, “Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Come back when you can.”

He nodded once, steady. “I will.”

______________________________________________________________

And come back, he did.

When Sungchan returned months later, fame had grown louder around him.

So had my world. Vivid had offered me a permanent senior position, a chance to design my own column.

We met again beneath the same skyline, both a little changed, both still searching for the rhythm that had started it all.

The evening was cool, the air threaded with the scent of rain. We met by the river, where the skyline flickered across the water like a memory made of light.

For a moment, neither of us moved. Then Sungchan stepped forward and, without a word, pulled me into his arms.

I let out a small, shaky laugh that caught against his shoulder. “You’re really here.”

“I told you I’d come back.” His voice was rough with exhaustion and something softer, something real.

We stood like that for a while, the world narrowing to the rhythm of our breathing. When I finally leaned back to look at him, his expression held both apology and relief.

“I missed this,” he said.

“Me too.”

Our lips met again—not tentative this time, but sure, full of all the months we had lost. The city lights flared around us, the river murmured below, and the space between what had been and what could be disappeared.

When we broke apart, I rested my forehead against his chest, feeling the steady beat beneath.

“Promise me,” I whispered, “that we’ll keep finding our way back, no matter what.”

He smiled against my hair. “Every time.”

Our story wasn’t perfect, but it was ours—born in the noise of a concert, built quietly between the heartbeat of two cities.

And somehow, against all odds, still finding its way forward.

sungchan

No matter the situation, Sungchan will always pause to check who the call is from. If it’s not urgent but still from someone he’s close with, he will literally type out a text telling them that he’ll call them back, all while he’s still inside you, which can be both humorous and frustrating. And if the call is at all work related, he’s 100% answering it then and there. While he’s on the phone, I can see him continuing to gently rock his hips in and out of you, trying to keep both of your budding orgasms from completely dying off. If you start to moan, he’ll sweetly lay a finger over your lips as a silent reminder that there’s someone who could potentially be listening. Whenever he feels compelled to do so, he’ll let out a tired sounding sigh in lieu of the moan he's supressing. The only situation in which he’ll stop completely is if you start to tease him, perhaps by backing your hips on him roughly in the doggy-style position, forcing him to hold you still with a rough grip of his fingers over your hip, as he’s fearful of being heard. If the call starts to drag on, he’ll eventually pull out of you in recognition of there being no chance for the two of you to simply jump back in as if nothing happened. Once the call is over, it might take him a second to get back into the swing of things after being distracted.

If the call is from your phone, he’ll completely ignore it regardless of if you answer it or not, continuing to fuck you at the same pace anyway. You’ll have to place a hand on his stomach to silently urge him to stop so that you don't moan into the phone. Although he’s patient in waiting until you’re off the phone to fuck you again, he won’t be able to resist the urge to kiss you all over your neck and shoulders, too turned on to remain completely still. I could also see him lowering himself towards your face, lowkey listening in on your conversation to see what’s taking so long. 

eunseok

Eunseok’s got quite the sense of humor. If you get a phone call, he’ll encourage you to answer it, and then purposefully fuck you harder to see if he can get you to make a sound. Even if you tell him to stop fucking you, his teasing will be endless — he’ll switch gears to circling your nipples, rubbing your clit, doing anything he can to distract you from whoever you’re talking to, and getting a kick out of it the entire time. He’ll even be as bold as to ask you things like, “Can you feel my dick in your stomach?” in his full voice, all while you’re still on the phone and whispering in embarrassment for him to stop. If the call goes on for a long time, I could see him being so bored and desperate for your attention that he’ll literally pull out and walk over to where your head is, proceeding to silently jack off in front of your face; he’s trying to be funny and clever but he’d also love it if you matched his freak and popped him in your mouth, even if only briefly.

On the other hand, if he got a phone call, his reaction is to check who it is, roll his eyes, and then immediately put his phone on DND regardless of who it is, throwing the phone somewhere and ultimately ignoring it until he’s done. He’s able to convince himself that the call just can’t be that important to justify him cutting the sex short. 

wonbin

Wonbin is so intense when he’s in the throes of sex, so it would be hugely disorienting for him to hear the sound of a phone ringing. Before he even knows whose phone it is, he’d immediately direct his partners gaze back to his with a hand on their jaw, begging them not to answer it and to stay present with him. Even in a situation where the phone just will not stop going off, Wonbin is honestly the type to legit not even check it until both of you are finished and satisfied. If his partner decides to answer their phone despite his pleas, he’d be all pouty watching them talk, all while remaining completely still inside of them. As the call starts to drag on, he may start to caress your thighs and torso affectionately, subtly urging you to remember that you’re in the middle of having sex and to therefore make efforts to wrap up the call. He’s such a brat that even after you’ve gotten off the phone, he’ll behave as if he’s genuinely mad and not even look at you until you’ve coaxed him into pliancy with lots of compliments and apologies. He just wants all of your attention on him at all times, but especially while you're fucking.

sohee

Sohee will not be able to ignore it if either of your phones go off; the sound of it ringing is simply too much of a distraction. In many cases, it’s actually him having to convince you to answer your phone, or at least check it, to ensure that it doesn’t go off again. While you answer it, he’ll be sort-of playful in mouthing silent questions to you like, “who is it?” and “what’s taking so long?” Eventually, boredom and impatience will motivate him to start gesturing towards his crotch, trying to communicate that he is very much hard and pulsing inside of you right now and kind of needs you to do something about it. He’d even be as bold as to take initiative in lifting your hips so that you’re forced to sink down on his cock. It’ll cause him to moan a little, forgetting that you’re still on the phone. It’ll be such a relief for him when you finally hang up and continue riding the life out of him as if there hasn’t been a lapse in time at all. 

When it’s his phone going off, he’ll always check it, and if it's from someone important, he’ll feel compelled to answer. While talking on the phone, he’ll try to hold you still, but if you still manage to tease him anyway, whether by wiggling your hips or by bouncing on him just slightly, he’ll be unable to hold back the giggles that come out as a reaction to how good you are at working him up; he’ll legit have to raise the phone high above his head so that he can’t be heard. He'll either end up pulling out of you and withdrawing entirely, or muting the phone so that he can half-playfully, half-seriously urge you to stop. He’s simply too embarrassed at the thought of the person on the phone hearing him moan and knowing what he’s up to.

anton

If it’s your phone that goes off, Anton will be courteous in asking whether you want him to stop so you can answer it. If you say no, he won’t question it and will keep going as normal. If you say yes, he’ll be a complete gentleman in allowing you to conduct your phone call without distraction, not moving by even an inch despite his body desperately urging him to. If it’s his phone that goes off, he’ll always check who it’s from, and usually might go through a sort of moral dilemma as he tries to decide whether it’s more important for him to answer it or keep fucking you. This can be a little frustrating for you, his partner, who was quite literally inches away from their orgasm and kind of needs him to make a decision instead of just remaining still. If he decides not to answer it, the thought of the call potentially being important will weigh heavy on his mind, and you’ll be able to tell even as he continues fucking you that he’s not fully present. In many cases, it’ll be you who ultimately urges him to take it at your own expense, just so that he has it off his mind. While answering the phone, he’ll remain completely still inside of you, with a hand on your thigh to keep you still. If the call drags on, I could see him even forgetting that he's still inside of you and perhaps accidentally leaning forward as a reaction to what he's being told, bringing his cock deeper inside of you and causing the both of you to almost moan. Cheeks red, he'll quickly shush you before returning to his statue-like disposition. Once the call is over and he returns to the sex, he’ll be so apologetic and extra affectionate to make up for the fact that he had to deny you of your pleasure.

Because Anton is to fun to tease, there may be instances while he’s taking a call during sex that you purposely try to rile him up, whether it be by running your hands up his abs, grabbing his butt, rubbing your clit for him sensually, or kissing his neck. In all of these moments, he will be quick to withdraw himself from you entirely, suppressing a nervous giggle the entire time. Depending on how insistent his partner is, he may even lock himself into a room away from them while taking the call. He absolutely could not survive the mortification that would come from someone in his life knowing that he’s in the middle of having sex.