Your heart was racing in your chest, and you tried your best to get your breathing under control while you lowered yourself to a chair next to Heeseung. The metal was warm, the sun had been shining the whole day, bathing the campus in bright light, the trees and their golden leaves making your surroundings seem like a painting. 

Heeseung reached for one of your crutches and lowered to the floor before looking up at you again.

You grinned sheepishly at him, reaching into your bag to get out the to-go cup you prepared just before you went to the campus. „I brought you some coffee.”

He accepted the cup, looking between you and his hands. “You brought me coffee? I didn’t ask–” “I know,” you cut him off quickly, shaking your head slightly. “Just…take it.” He blinked at you, processing for a moment. “Thanks,” Heeseung finally said, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smile. “But…why?” You let out a breathy laugh, feeling heat rush to your face. “As a thank you,” you said, shifting in your seat, “for you know…driving me home and listening to my sap story.” Heeseung raised an eyebrow, taking the cup from the table, but his expression softened. “I don’t need a thank you, Y/N.”

You nodded and gave him a weak smile. “I know,” you mumbled, “but it felt like I should do something. To…you know…thank you.”

He was silent for a second, just looking at you, mustering you. You felt nervous under his stare and tucked a stand of your hair behind your ear, trying to avoid eye contact. You weren’t sure if this was too much, if bringing him coffee was weird.  

But before you could think of a way to get out of the situation, Heeseung gave you a soft smile and took a sip. He nodded and hummed, his tongue darting out to swipe over his upper lip. “Thank you for the coffee, but don’t feel guilty for talking to me. I’m gladly listening to you, if it's about how you’re doing or even if it's about our plans in a zombie apocalypse. You don’t owe me anything for it.” 

You nodded and averted your eyes, pressing your lips onto each other, pulling in your lower lip. The lipstick you put on earlier felt silly now; it tasted weird, fruity and nutty at the same time. 

His gaze felt heavy on you, while you struggled to find something to say. After a few seconds of silence that felt like an eternity, he slowly reached out and gently took your hand, which was resting on the table. “I am serious, Y/N. I like spending time with you, being around you is nice, and everyone has bad days. You’ve been listening to me complain about my classes for almost three weeks now, so it’s only fair if I listen to you talk about the most traumatic day of your life, okay?”

You sniffled, cursing yourself for feeling like crying again before nodding slowly, looking up again. His dark eyes were searing your face, and he carefully turned your hand around, intertwining his fingers with yours. 

“Okay.” 

He squeezed your fingers and gave you a small smile before letting go. “Good. Are you hungry?”

You blinked at him in confusion. “Hungry?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, tilting his head to the side. “I’ve been out here for like three hours, and I’m starting to get hungry.” 

“You want to go eat now?”

“If you’d like to?” Heeseung grinned sheepishly. “I’m craving ramyeon.”

“I have…classes in like ten minutes? After that?” You bit your lip, debating for a moment before offering, “Gyu claims you make the best ramyeon he's ever eaten? Maybe we could cook them together?” His eyes lit up at your suggestion, and you felt a flutter of excitement in your chest. “I’d love that! When do your classes end? I’ll have everything ready.” You hesitated for a second. Your eyes are darting between his suggestions. “At your place?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I can get you from the campus if you’d like?”

“I…I’ll have to study a bit today. Maybe we could do that afterwards?” Your voice was small when you asked that.  “Absolutely,” he agreed, nodding seriously, though a smile tugged at his lips.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

What was he thinking? Heeseung couldn’t believe himself. He had invited you over. He had invited you over. 

After his last class of the day, he raced into his dorm, the realisation hitting him two hours too late. 

Heeseung nearly slammed the entrance door to his apartment against the wall as soon as the unlocking sound came from the lock. Jake and Jay were sitting around the kitchen table studying. Both their heads shot up at the sound of Heeseung entering. 

“Guys, I might have messed up!” Jake blinked a few times, confusion etched across his face. “What happened?” “I invited Y/N over to eat Ramyeon,” he said, trying to slide out of his coat, but one of his arms got stuck in the sleeve. “But our dorm is a disaster. I don’t have any Ramyeon left. My room is a mess!” 

Jay stifled a laugh, clearly enjoying the drama. “So you want us to speed clean so you can impress Y/N?” “Yes!” Heeseung exclaimed, already kneeling down to pick up the shoes littering the entrance. “Please, help a guy out. I can’t let her see this place!” “Hyung, what the fuck,” Jake laughed out loud before shaking his head. 

“Please! I promise I’ll clean the bathroom for the next month,” Heeseung wasn’t above begging. He couldn’t let you come in here only for it to look like a mess. 

“You don’t have to beg, Hyung,” Jake said with a chuckle, standing up and grabbing the takeout boxes scattered around him. “Our dorm needs a cleaning session anyway. And honestly, I’m so done with thermodynamics right now. If I see another heat transfer mode, I might bang my head into a wall hard enough to skip out the next semester. I am suffering.” Jay joined in. “I’ll take the living room and vacuum. Hyung, just focus on your room and run down to the GS25 to get some ramyeon.” “Yes, thank you,” Heeseung said, practically sprinting to his room.

Once inside, he was greeted by the mess that was his room: clothes sprawled across the floor, bed, and desk, a collection of empty water bottles. On top of that, his hockey gear was spread haphazardly around the room, gloves, sticks, bags. He immediately began tackling the mess, grabbing clothes, checking which ones were clean, which needed to be folded and put away. He picked up a discarded hockey glove and tossed it into a corner before realising he’d have to deal with the smell somehow. By the time he emerged from his room, he felt a sense of accomplishment. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than what it had been. He glanced over at Jay, who was in the living room, vacuuming with an exaggerated flourish, as he pulled on his shoes. “If she comes while I am gone…”, he tripped over his foot. “Just be normal?”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

The taxi stopped in front of a tall, sleek structure. A few seconds later, you stood in front of it, your gaze drifting upwards. 

14th floor, Heeseung said. 

The apartment complex was just a few minutes away from the one your parents were living in, but it felt like entering a different universe. You knew Heeseung came from a rich family, his father being an NHL hockey player himself before he retired and moved back to Korea, but you didn’t realise he was this rich. 

You laughed in disbelief before making your way to the entrance. With each step, your heart seemed to beat a bit faster. 

You haven’t really had the chance to be over at a boy's house since…ever. The only male friends you had were Soobin's friends as well. Technically, Heeseung was as well, but this didn’t count. 

He was your…friend. 

The elevator ride up didn’t help with easing your nerves; you shifted your weight onto your good leg, adjusting your crutches slightly. 

Over the past few weeks, you had grown used to Heeseung hanging out in your office, almost like it was his second home. Some days, he was already there when you finished your last class, quietly studying or taking notes. His presence had become a strange comfort, one that didn’t bother you. If anything, it helped you stay focused. But this, being invited into his space, felt like a new step, one that made your heart race a little. When you reached his door, you hesitated for a second, taking a deep breath. You could hear muffled voices and the sound of something being moved around inside. 

The door swung open almost immediately after you pressed the doorbell. Heeseung stood in front of you, his hair was a lot messier than when you saw him a few hours ago. 

“Hi,” he said, sounding breathless. 

“Hi,” you gave him a small smile and peeked behind him. Jake stood behind him, waving at you with one hand while holding a full trash bag in the other. 

“Hello, Y/N. Nice to see you!” He dumped the bag next to the entrance to the hallway, where another one was already lying.

“I…we are cleaning today,” Heeseung said, his ears turning red. You chuckled watching him helplessly look between Jake and the trash bags. 

“That’s okay,” you grinned at him and leaned your crutches against the wall to take off your jacket. 

“Oh, wait! Let me–”, he reached forward, taking your crutches and helping you with sliding off your backpack. 

“Thank you.” “Sure!” Heeseung beamed at you while you crouched down to take off your sneaker. By now, you were able to stand on your foot with the cast on for a few minutes a day, and you usually used those minutes to get dressed or undressed. So you did just that, leaning onto your injured foot to slip out of your shoe. 

“Oh fuck sorry,” he reached forward to steady you, his hand wrapping around your elbow. You straightened up again, giving him a small smile. ”Thank you, Hee.”  

His eyes met yours before he averted them, almost shyly. A few seconds later, he seemed to notice that he was still holding your arm, and he let go fast enough for you to almost lose your balance, before catching you again. 

“I ’m-I-sorry,” he laughed breathlessly before handing you his crutches. “Are you hungry?” 

You blinked at him and then caught Jake's gaze. He was stifling a laugh, his shoulders shaking a bit. 

“Yeah,” you nodded once, pressing your lips onto each other to stop each other from smiling. “I have to take my meds soon, so I gotta eat.”

Heeseung nodded. “Okay,” he nodded again, before turning towards the kitchen. “I’ll get going then.”

He walked a few steps only to stop mid-movement. “Wait, I’ll get your bag.” Jake started laughing out loud now, before crossing the hallway to take your bag. “Hyung, go and coo. I’ll bring Y/N to your room. Just cook, if she has to take her meds.”

“I–”, Heeseung looked between you and Jake, blinking, so you nodded at Jake, wanting to save Heeseung from more humiliation in front of his roommate. “Sure!”

Jake shook his head with an amused grin, slinging your backpack over his shoulder before gesturing down the short hallway. "Let’s go then."

You snorted, grabbing your crutches from where Heeseung had leaned them against the wall and following him deeper into the apartment. It was big and spacious but furnished rather cosily, with dark wooden elements here and there and a few framed NHL posters and jerseys on the walls. You recognised the name on one of them. ‘Lee Manseok’, Heeseung's father.

"So," Jake said over his shoulder as he pushed open a door to a tidy room that had barely any decoration in it, a faint cedar scent hitting you. "How's your day been? You have classes on Wednesdays, right?"

"Yeah," you said, easing yourself onto the edge of the bed with a small sigh, putting your crutches on the floor next to it. "It’s been excruciatingly boring today, but that's alright. We don’t have an exam, just one paper and one group project, so I spend my time online shopping."

He giggled again. He dropped your bag on Heeseung's gaming chair, eyes flicking to your cast. "And the foot? How's that doing? You’ve been walking a lot better. I haven't seen your wheelchair for a while now."

You shrugged, rubbing your thigh absently where the pain had been spiking more lately. It was true, you were using the wheelchair less, putting more weight on your foot, you should have been able to walk without a cast for almost a week now, but your physiotherapist recommended you not do so yet. You weren’t ready. It left you incredibly frustrated, but you weren't about to unload that on Jake; it was bad enough that you did just that with Heeseung yesterday. "Alright. Getting there. I can stand on it for a few minutes now. It’s still gonna take like three or four weeks until I’m getting rid of the cast."

"Cool, cool," Jake nodded toward the closet. "Do you want a pair of joggers or something? I’m sure your jeans must be uncomfortable as hell. With your hip and all? Heeseung has an impressive amount of joggers. I swear.”  

You laughed, the sound lighter than you felt. "Sure, why not–"

Jake was already rummaging in the closet before you finished your sentence, pulling out some joggers with a triumphant grin. "Boom. These'll do. Comfy as hell. I steal those from the wash so often, I love these."

You shook your head, still chuckling. "Thank you."

Just then, the door swung open wider, Heeseung stepping in with two steaming bowls of ramen balanced carefully in his hands. His eyes widened at the sight of Jake elbow-deep in his closet. "Dude, what are you doing in my stuff?"

Jake straightened up, holding the pants like a trophy. "I’m graciously giving our dearest social media manager a pair of comfortable pants from your gigantic collection!"

Heeseung's ears went red again, but he set the bowls down on the desk with a huff, shooting Jake a look. "Out. I've got it from here."

Jake smirked and tossed the pants onto the bed beside you. "Alright. Have fun with your ramyeon, you two." He winked at you on his way out and pulled the door mostly shut behind him.

Heeseung exhaled slowly and ran a hand through his messy hair. He grabbed the bowls and handed one to you. The chopsticks were already tucked inside. He kicked off his slippers and settled cross-legged on the bed beside you. Your knees bumped lightly when you both balanced the steaming ramen. The rich, spicy smell filled the room.

"Thank you," you murmured, waiting for him to start eating first.

He hummed and blew on a bite before glancing at you sideways. His tone was casual but careful. "So, did you sleep okay after last night? You were pretty out of it when I dropped you off at the rink."

You shrugged and twirled your noodles slowly. You had tossed half the night after you had woken up at around ten. You decided to be honest with him.

"Not that well, actually. The weather flipped to this sunshine today. It makes my leg throb worse most of the time. It's the pressure drop or whatever. I kept waking up every hour."

His brows knit tight at that, and his chopsticks paused mid-air. Genuine concern etched his face. "Shit, yeah. I forgot about that. Coach mentioned it once. He said barometric changes mess with injuries. Do you need ice or anything? Physio gel? I can grab it from the freezer. Or heat? Whatever helps."

"No, I'm good for now," you said. You managed a small smile around a mouthful of the ramen. "Just gotta pace it. I’ll take painkillers after we’ve eaten. How about you? Did you finish whatever you were brooding over today? You seemed annoyed before I came."

He groaned dramatically and set his bowl on his knee for a second.  "Don't even get me started. I've got this song arrangement due Friday for my music production class. The girl I'm paired with is not doing anything. She was supposed to handle the melody and vocals. But there had been radio silence for three days now. I haven't touched her. I'm basically rewriting the whole damn thing from scratch later tonight." Annoyance bled through as he stabbed at a piece of egg. “I’ll have to sing the whole thing, even though she is the one in the Singing and Vocal undergrad.” 

You laughed and leaned back against his pillows to take some pressure off your leg. “I didn’t know you were singing.”

“I–I am occasionally?” Heeseung said, giving you a sly smile. “I am not the best, but whatever. I do what is needed for a good grade.” 

“I still haven’t found your Soundcloud”, you grinned at him, before taking another bite of the ramyeon. “These are really good, by the way.” 

Heeseung spluttered and coughed. “You tried finding that?”

You shook your head, reaching forward to gently pat his back when he continued to cough. “I haven’t, no. I respect your privacy, but it makes sense that you’re singing when, you know, you’re releasing music and stuff.”

He nodded, and the coughing stopped. “I’ll show you some. Later. Maybe.”

“I’d love to, Hee,” you gave him a warm smile before digging in again. “I understand why Gyu loves your ramyeon.”

Heeseung shook his head and laughed at that. “He’s an idiot.” You agreed to that. “He is, but I love him, so it’s alright.” 

Heeseung was chewing a bite of the noodles, looking at you intently all of a sudden. “Like love love? I didn’t know you and Guy were together.”

You stared at him, chopsticks suspended halfway to your mouth. “Together? Beomgyu and I?”

Heeseung nodded slowly, suddenly looking a lot less sure of himself. “Yeah, the two of you seem pretty close. I just kind of didn’t want to… You know, ask and make it weird.”

You blinked once. Twice. Then a laugh burst out of you, loud and incredulous. “Oh my god, no. No. Beomgyu is–” You shook your head, still laughing. “He is like my annoying older brother. I have never had anything with him. Ever.”

Heeseung’s chewing slowed to a stop. He watched you carefully, like he was trying to figure out if you were joking. “Really?”

“Really,” you said firmly. You set your bowl down on your lap so you could gesture properly. “He has been friends with Soobin for like ten years now, and they had to always take me everywhere and shit. He and my family go on family holiday trips once a year. That man is family. That’s it,” you wrinkled your nose in disgust. “That would be like… dating Soobin. I’d rather die.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh at that, but his eyes stayed on you, lingering a little longer than usual. The room felt smaller for a second, the space between you shrinking even though neither of you moved.

“Okay,” he said at last, voice softer. “Good to know.”

You tilted your head at him. “Why? Were you worried I was secretly in love with Beomgyu or something?”

He looked away then, down at his bowl, jaw working like he was choosing his words. “I just didn’t want to assume anything,” he muttered. “Or…cross a boundary or whatever.”

It took you a heartbeat to catch up. When you did, your stomach flipped. You shifted against the pillows, your leg twinging as you did, but you barely registered it. “Well,” you said quietly, “there’s no boundary to cross. Not like that,” you paused for a moment, your heart slowing down as you formulated the next few words. “If I’m into someone, it’s… definitely not him.”

Heeseung went very still at that. His gaze slowly drifted to yours, and for a long moment you just looked at each other, the glow of the lamp throwing soft shadows across his face. You could see the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, the way his fingers tightened slightly around his chopsticks.

“Okay,” he said again, but this time there was something different in his voice. “I’m… kind of glad, then.”

Your heart kicked up at that, beating loudly in your ears. “Yeah?” you asked, your voice coming out softer than you intended.

He let out a small, breathy laugh and scratched the back of his neck, suddenly shy. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Would’ve sucked if I…” He trailed off, eyes flicking away for a second before forcing themselves back to your face. “If I was reading this wrong.”

You swallowed, the warmth in your chest spreading out to your fingertips. “You’re not,” you said quietly.

His eyes widened just a fraction.

You rushed on before your courage could evaporate. “I mean… I like being here. With you. Like this,” you gestured vaguely between you, cheeks heating, your voice growing quieter with each word. “It’s not just the…ramyeon.”

Heeseung’s mouth curved into the smallest, almost disbelieving smile. “Yeah,” he said. “Me too. It’s… definitely not just the ramyeon.”

You both went a little quiet after that, suddenly aware of how close you were sitting, how your knees still touched, how his comforter bunched under your legs where they almost overlapped. 

He cleared his throat softly. “So,” he said, a little tentative, “Would you like to watch Nteflix?”

You matched his tone with a small smile of your own. “Yeah.”

He reached for the remote, fingers brushing yours for half a second longer than necessary. Neither of you pulled away. Then he hit play, and the room filled with eerie music, both of you settling back against the pillows.

You shifted around slightly, trying to find a position that made the cast not press into your skin as uncomfortably, while trying not to spill any of your noodles or jostling Heeseung too much. 

His eyes flicked to your leg and lowered his bowl to his lap. "Do you need something to drink with your painkillers? Have you eaten enough for them?"

You sighed and rubbed your thigh lightly over the cast. The pressure was a small relief. "Yeah, I think I should take some now. I don’t think it will get better today. Usually, the only thing that really helps is phyiso."

"Massage gun? Would a massage gun help?" Heeseung perked up, handing you his bowl, getting up before you could even utter a word.  "I've got one in a drawer somewhere. Wait, give me a second"

You blinked at him. "A massage gun?"

He scooted off the bed with a grin. “Yeah,” he rummaged in his nightstand until he pulled out a sleek black device. He held it up triumphantly. "It’s a gift from my dad. I don’t really know why he thought I needed one, but whatever.” 

He shrugged and then focused on the buttons on the bottom of the gun. “It sounds a bit like a gigantic vibrator.” 

It came to life, vibrating for a few seconds before dying down again, with a rather pitiful sound.

You both stared at it for a beat before you burst out laughing at the exact same time. 

“I sure hope you didn’t use it as a vibrator? That would have been a quick session?”, you said, causing Heeseung to snort. His shoulders shook as he dropped the gun back in the drawer. "I haven’t, no. The others just joke about it. Our walls are thin.”

You flopped your head back against the bedframe with a sigh. “You all have the humour of a bunch of thirteen-year-olds.”

Heeseung shook his head at that and eased back onto the bed, taking his bowl from you. “Said the one who just made a joke a thirteen-year-old would make.” 

You hit his shoulder, which caused him to yelp and snort, before your laughter faded. The slow pulsing in your leg and the uncomfortable pressure around your ankle seemed to dislike your constant shifting. 

"I'm a bit annoyed," you admitted after a moment of silence. You pushed the rest of your noodles around in your bowl, trying to separate them from the egg that Heeseung had added. "My leg's just not cooperating today. I'm behind on the walking schedule, too. It's fine, but like…I don’t even know. I never thought that the surgery would help. I just,” you gestured vaguely with your hands, “wish the pain would stop? I’ve come to terms with the fact that my life will be different compared to everyone else's. Being disabled, especially in Korea, comes with a lot of accommodations I have to think about. That’s shit sometimes. The hills and the stairs.” 

Heeseung's face softened completely. He gently nudged your good shoulder. "It's not fine. I’m sorry that the crash happened and that you don’t think the surgery helped. I’m not pitying you, but I want you to know that it’s all right to feel shit about the whole situation, Y/N. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

You stared at him for a second, taking in his presence, the soft smile on his lips, his eyes looking so sincere, it made your heart stop beating for a second, warmth spreading in your ribcage. 

“I know. It’s just hard sometimes,” you whispered. 

“That’s alright,” he hummed, and nodded before giving you a small smile. “As long as you don’t let that take over. It might be hard, but there is so much you enjoy doing, isn’t there? Even if it is making us dance to those random TikTok dances.”

You giggled at that, rolling your eyes, while smiling at him. “I really like doing that, don’t I?”

“Well, it’s fun for us as well,” Heeseung took a bite of his noodles, slurping them down with a loud sound. You hummed and copied him, eating the remaining noodles you had left.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

Heeseung shifted slightly on the bed, stretching his legs as the second episode ended. He turned his head, ready to ask if you wanted to start another one, the question already on his tongue, until he actually looked at you.

You were fast asleep.

For a moment, he just stared at your figure. You were curled up against his pillow, wrapped in his blanket. One of your arms was tucked under your head, propping it up slightly. His heart skipped, then stumbled into a faster rhythm.

Your chest moved in slow, steady breaths, while your eyes fluttered from time to time. You looked so relaxed, your shoulders loose, your jaw relaxed, your breathing slow and steady. 

He didn’t dare move.

He became painfully aware of everything: how loud his breathing sounded, how the AC hummed quietly in the background, how the mattress dipped where you lay. He swallowed, tugging lightly at the collar of his shirt, heat crawling up his neck.

What was he supposed to do? Wake you up? Ask if you want to go home? 

In a rush of mild panic, he fumbled for his phone and opened a chat with Soobin.

Heeseung Hey man, Y/N fell asleep at my place. Is it cool if she stays over? I don’t want to wake her up.

He glanced from the screen back to you while he waited for an answer. His eyes were tracing the way your fingers were loosely curled near your cheek, the way a strand of hair had fallen across your face. You shifted just a little, nuzzling deeper into the pillow, and his chest clenched.

When he found you in the office yesterday, with your shoulders hunched and your leg up on that horrible armrest, his heart had sunk. You had been crying, your eyes were puffy, and you were sniffling, even in your sleep. He had wanted to reach out and smooth your hair back, to wipe away the dried tears, to do something to make it better. 

He hadn’t. 

He hadn’t been sure he was allowed to, hadn’t been sure you’d even want him close.

Now, his hand hovered awkwardly halfway between his lap and your face, fingers twitching. He wanted to tuck that strand of hair behind your ear, just once. To see your face clearly. To fix the tiny, meaningless thing he actually could fix.

But touching you while you slept felt… weird, right? Too much. Too intimate. He froze there, hand suspended in mid air, feeling ridiculous.

You sniffed softly in your sleep, and he panicked, yanking his hand back as he’d almost burned himself.

His phone buzzed.

Soobin Hyung (New) She’s an adult, dude. I’ll let my parents know she’s sleeping over, though.

Heeseung let out a breath he’d been holding, shoulders dropping with relief. 

Okay. 

This is fine. 

You’re fine.

He is fine. 

Heeseung sent a quick thank you, then set the phone aside and, moving as slowly as humanly possible, shifted a bit closer in the process, not enough to crowd you, just enough to tuck the blanket a bit higher over your shoulder. The fabric brushed your chin, and you let out a tiny, content hum, making his heart thud painfully hard once.

“Sorry,” he whispered, even though you didn’t wake.

He eased himself back toward the edge of the bed, trying to give you space without falling off. Every movement felt too loud in his own head: the rustle of the blanket, the creak of the mattress, the hush of his breath. 

The TV’s soft glow painted a faint light across your face. From here, he could see the way your lashes rested on your cheeks, the way your mouth relaxed when you exhaled. 

His hand hovered near your face again, closer this time, fingers stopping a few centimetres from your hair. He could almost feel the warmth of your skin, even without touching. He wanted to smooth his thumb along your brow, to check if you were really as relaxed as you looked, to erase the memory of you asleep with tear-streaked cheeks and a clenched jaw.

But you weren’t crying now. You weren’t in pain, or trapped in that crammed office room, or fighting to breathe through sobs. You were just… resting. In his bed. In his space.

And he was not going to risk ruining that.

He let his hand fall back to his side with a quiet sigh, fingers curling into the blanket instead. “I’m going crazy,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anything.

He leaned his head back against the wall, eyes drifting from the ceiling to you and back again. Sleep felt impossible. 

He turned his head for one last look before forcing himself to try and rest. There you were: tucked under his blanket, your crutches leaning against the wall, your shoulders loose, your face free of tension.

He still didn’t really know what to do with all of the feelings crowding his chest, but one thing he knew for sure was that if this was what you looked like when you felt safe, he would do whatever he could to keep it that way. Even if it meant sitting perfectly still all night, overthinking every breath, just so you wouldn’t wake up.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

You woke up slowly, like someone was gently turning the world back on one switch at a time. You kept your eyes closed, refusing to open them, trying to convince your body to fall back asleep, to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of the low humming pain. After a few seconds, you forced your eyelids open, your lashes sticking a little to each other.

This… was not your room.

The ceiling was wrong. The comforter was too light and felt different. Your brain tried to piece that together, but you were so tired you couldn’t be bothered to panic properly. You just made a small noise in your throat and instinctively curled onto your side, trying to find a more comfortable position.

You rolled toward the warmth beside you and nearly bumped straight into him.

Heeseung was lying on his side, facing you, one arm tucked under his head. He was on top of his blanket, his styled hair was a bit mussed, smushed from the pillow. A low snoring sound came from his partly opened lips, while his chest was moving in slow, steady breaths.

For a second, your brain completely stalled.

You were in his bed.

You were in his bed. Under his blanket. Hogging his blanket.

Oh.

Heat shot up your neck at light speed as the realisation properly hit. You tugged instinctively at the covers, eyes widening as they slid with you. 

Your movement was enough to disturb him. 

His brows twitched first, then his lashes fluttered before his eyes blinked open, unfocused for half a second. He looked dazed, caught between sleep and waking.

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

You lay there, barely a hand’s width of space between you, faces close enough that you could see the tiny moles along his cheekbone, could feel the warmth of his breath ghost against your cheek. The room was quiet, washed in soft, blue‑grey light, and the eye contact was suddenly so intense it made your stomach flip.

“I–” you whispered, your voice rough with sleep. You swallowed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He blinked slowly, then the corners of his mouth tipped up in a tiny, sleepy smile. “It’s fine,” he murmured, voice low and husky from sleep. “You didn’t. Not really.”

His eyes scanned your face, a quick flicker of worry passing through them. “You okay?”

You hummed, a small noise, and gave the faintest of nods. “Just… tired.”

He huffed out a quiet breath, something like a laugh. “Yeah. I figured.” There was a pause, his gaze dipping down for a second, as if he had only just realised you were wrapped tightly in his blanket. “Do you… Want something to sleep in? Like actual sleepwear?”

You scrunched your nose, already preemptively protesting. “I don’t wanna get up,” you mumbled, eyes slipping half‑closed again. “I’m tired.”

He let out a soft, amused exhale. “I understand now why Beomgyu was so insistent you get a sofa,” he said, tone teasing, barely above a whisper. “With how much you sleep, he might’ve been onto something.”

Your eyes opened a little wider at that, just enough to send him a weak, offended look. “Rude,” you muttered, fake scandal bleeding through the sleep in your voice. “I just need a lot of sleep, okay? It’s called recovery.”

He smiled, softer this time. “I know,” he said quietly. “I’m just teasing.”

For a beat, he just looked at you. His face was so soft, his expression so gentle, it made your heart beat faster. Then his hand lifted, hesitating in the air between you for the tiniest second before he reached forward. His fingers brushed against your temple as he pushed a strand of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear with almost absurd care. The touch made your skin tingle, warmth blooming where his fingers had been. Your breath caught without your permission.

“I’ll get you something else to wear,” he whispered, his hand lingering for half a heartbeat near your cheek before he pulled it back. “So you’re comfortable.”

You just nodded, suddenly unable to string words together. “Okay,” you breathed.

He offered you one more sleepy, reassuring smile, then carefully pushed himself up, moving slowly. You watched him pad across the dim room to his closet, the blanket still wrapped snugly around you, heart doing that annoying, fluttery thing in your chest.

He came back to the bed with an armful of clothes, the soft rustle of fabric breaking the quiet.

“Here,” he said, voice low as he held them out to you. On top was a shirt made of heavy, soft cotton. Underneath, he handed you a pair of shorts.

Your stomach dropped a little.

“I figured these would be more comfortable than your pants,” he added, smiling lazily at you. “They should fit. Or, you know, be huge.”

Your fingers tightened on the fabric. You knew they wouldn’t cover them, the scars littering your legs, the discolouration, the deformations on the muscles. 

The thought of him seeing everything made your chest squeeze, nausea curling low in your stomach. You hated it, seeing and feeling the odd texture. You knew most people tried not to look when you wore something that showed off your leg, but they still did. They always did.  

You opened your mouth, trying to find the words to not sound unthankful, to ask for different pants. 

It looks ugly. 

My leg looks wrong. 

I don’t want you to see.

But nothing came out. Your throat just closed around the sentence 

“Yeah,” you said instead, swallowing hard. “This is… good. Thanks.”

He nodded, apparently satisfied. “I’ll turn around,” he said, already moving. He stepped around the bed and sat down on the floor on the other side, his back against the frame, facing the wall. “Take your time. I won’t look.”

He folded his arms loosely over his knees, head tilted away, giving you space in the most literal way he could.

You stayed frozen exactly where you were.

The shirt lay in your lap, the shorts beside it, and your hands didn’t move. The room felt suddenly smaller, the air thicker. The thought of standing up, of peeling off what you were wearing and exposing your leg, your scars, in his room, even if he was turned away, made your stomach twist. Your skin prickled, a familiar wave of embarrassment and something like panic creeping in.

You hated this. 

Hated how much space it took up in your head. 

Hated that you could break bones and survive surgery and drag yourself through physio, but the idea of someone you… liked seeing the marks it all left behind, made your body want to shut down.

Seconds passed, a minute, maybe more, maybe less, without you moving.

Heeseung shifted a little. “Y/N?” he asked quietly, not turning around. “You okay?”

Your fingers tightened around the hem of the shirt.

“Can you…” You paused, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “Can you give me long pants instead?” The words came out small, almost guilty. “I don’t… I don’t want you to have to look at the scars.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then he shook his head once, more to himself than at you. “Y/N,” he said softly, still facing the wall, voice steady. “I wouldn’t care.”

You let out ahumourlesss huff. “You say that now.”

“I mean it,” he insisted, and there was something so firm, so sure in his tone that it made you pause. “It’s part of you, isn’t it? Part of what you went through.” He drew a slow breath. “I’m… glad it’s scars. That’s just that. That’s not your whole leg missing. Or you… not being here at all.”

Your throat tightened at that, the nausea mixing with something else, something heavy and warm and terrifying.

He kept going, gently, like he knew if he stopped, you might retreat completely. “I’m not going to think you’re ugly because you have scars,” he said. “If you want to, I can give some to you, but you don’t have to wear long pants. I don’t care about your scars, I promise.” 

You stared at his back, at the way his shoulders were set, at how he still hadn’t turned around, like he was physically holding the boundary for you.

You swallowed hard, the words you wanted to say piling up. 

I hate them. 

I hate that you might see. 

I hate that I care so much what you think. 

Instead, you just muttered, barely audible, “I…okay.”

Your hands finally moved.

You changed quickly, fingers clumsy with exhaustion and nerves, skin prickling every time the fabric brushed over the rougher parts of your leg. You moved as quietly as you could, as if noise might draw his eyes even though he had promised he wouldn’t look. The shirt fell over you, heavy and soft and smelling like him, the hem almost comically long on you. The shorts sat higher on your waist than you were used to, but they were loose and easy to move in.

When you were done, you sat down on the bed again, wrapping the blanket over your legs, clearing your throat. “Okay,” you said again, a little louder. “You can… turn around.”

He pushed himself up and turned, careful, like he was afraid of startling you. His eyes flicked over you quickly, then softened when he saw you properly wrapped in his clothes.

“Looks comfortable,” he said simply. 

You nodded, suddenly too tired to do much else. He settled back on top of the blanket next to you, taking less than half of the bed. 

“Lie down,” he said gently. “You need sleep.”

You did as he said, turning onto your side, facing the wall this time. 

The room fell quiet again.

You stared at the fabric bunched in your hand and tried to ignore the way your chest still felt tight. 

Behind you, you heard him shift slightly. The mattress dipped a bit as he moved into your direction and then back onto his back. You waited for him to say something, anything, but he just let out a slow breath and stayed where he was, close enough that you could feel the faint warmth along your back, while he wasn’t touching you.

You lay there for a while, staring at the shadowy outline of his wall, listening to the soft shift of sheets as he settled behind you. 

You swallowed, then slowly rolled back over.

Heeseung was on his side again, propped slightly against his pillow. When he noticed you turn, his eyelids fluttered open, and his eyes met yours, surprise flickering briefly across his face before it melted into something softer.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice low.

“Hey,” you echoed, your own voice small. You fiddled with the edge of the blanket for a second, then cleared your throat. “Um… good night. And… thank you. For… all of this. Letting me sleep here. The clothes. Just… everything.”

He shifted a little closer on top of the blanket, careful not to crowd you, so you were facing each other with only a small space between. His lips curved into a tired, warm smile.

“You don’t have to thank me. Really,” he replied quietly.

You held his gaze, the dim room making his eyes look softer, darker. The closeness felt strangely intimate and oddly gentle at the same time, like neither of you wanted to break the moment.

“I’ve got training in the morning,” he added after a beat, tone apologetic, “but I’ll get you home after, if you want. Or before, if you’d rather not wait. Whatever works for you.”

You shook your head, the blanket rustling slightly. “No, it’s okay,” you said. “You don’t have to. I can just grab a taxi in the morning. Or whenever I wake up. You don’t need to worry about it.”

His brows knit for half a second, like he wanted to argue, but he let it go. “Okay,” he said softly. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” you murmured.

Silence settled again, but it felt different now, less heavy. He studied your face for a moment, something gentle and almost painfully fond in his expression.

Then his hand lifted, slow and unhurried, giving you enough time to pull back if you wanted to. When you didn’t, his fingers brushed against your cheek, the back of his knuckles barely grazing your skin as he gently petted the side of your face, thumb smoothing over a spot just below your eye.

“Let’s sleep now,” he whispered. 

The touch made your eyelids grow heavier than they already were. Your cheek leaned into his hand without you meaning to.

“Okay,” you breathed, the word barely more than air.

He let his hand linger for a second longer, then slowly pulled it back, tucking it close to his chest.

“Good night, Y/N,” he said, just above a whisper.

“Good night, Heeseung,” you mumbled back, your voice already thick with sleep as you let your eyes finally close, his face the last thing you saw in the soft, dim light.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

“A little bird told me you didn’t return home last night,” Beomgyu teased as he entered your office without knocking first. You looked up from your laptop and sighed, already bracing yourself for his relentless teasing. “I didn’t,” you admitted, rolling your eyes. “Did that little bird also tell you I fell asleep after watching, like, one and a half episodes of Gyeoseong creature? And that absolutely nothing else happened?” 

You knew exactly who the “little bird” was: your brother, who had left several messages on your phone after he had claimed you fell asleep at his dorm and not as Heeseungs, saving you from your father's wrath. “He did mention that, actually,” Beomgyu smirked, shaking his damp hair free from his hat. “But I have to say, I’m a little disappointed.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice dramatically. “You had the perfect opportunity to get something going with,” he paused for effect, “a hot guy that Yeonjun hyung, and I fully approve of, and you did nothing? And don’t give me the ‘I’m not interested in Heeseung’ excuse. I know all about your little evening sessions in your office.”

You ignored the last part of what he had said. “You and Yeonjun? What about Soobin? Wouldn’t he approve of Heeseung?” Bromguys's grin grew in size as he leaned onto your desk, his face in his hands. “Why? Should he?”

Your face heated up when you realised you essentially just confessed to Beomguy that, yes, yes, your brother should approve of Heeseung. “I-no? Yes? Maybe?”

“Oh my god, Y/N,” Bromguy laughed once in disbelief, but his face grew soft as he leaned back, leaning onto your desk with his hip. “You like Heeseung?”

Your eyes darted away from your friend, back to your screen, where a clip of Heeseung and Sunghoon racing through the arena was currently looping. It did not help. At all.

Your face burned now, heat crawling all the way up to the tips of your ears. “I…” You clicked your mouse for no reason, just to have something to do with your hand. “Can we not talk about this?”

Beomgyu huffed out a soft laugh. “So that’s a yes.”

You slumped back in your chair, staring stubbornly at the monitor. “I didn’t say yes.”

“You also didn’t say no,” he pointed out gently.

You chewed the inside of your cheek. 

You did like him, you really did. 

You liked how he made your heart race, you liked talking to him, you liked being around him. But…saying those words out loud felt heavy and awkward…it would make everything real.

You had never really liked someone. 

You didn’t really have the opportunity to do so, at least that is what you told yourself. Ryjin always claimed you just refused to let anyone into your heart that didn’t know you before the accident, before life had turned upside down. 

You knew she was right. 

But it was hard, letting someone in. 

Letting them see the burden you had to carry, the burden they would have to carry, the uncertainty of what would happen next. Of when the next surgery would put your life on hold again, of when it might be too much. 

Your cursor hovered over the pause button, but you did not press it. You kept watching Heeseung race across your screen, frame by frame, over and over.

“Yeah,” you said finally, voice small. “I think…I…I like him.”

The admission hung between you. You did not look up. 

Your heart was beating too fast, like it was trying to escape through your ribs.

Beomgyu was quiet for a moment, but when he spoke again, his voice had lost its teasing edge. “Hey,” he said softly. “Look at me.”

You forced your eyes away from the monitor. He was watching you with that annoyingly perceptive gaze he got sometimes, the one that made you feel sixteen again and caught sneaking out.

“There she is,” he said, lips quirking into a small, fond smile. “You like Heeseung.”

You exhaled, a shaky little puff of air that was almost a laugh. “You don’t have to say it twice.”

“I kind of do,” he said. “It’s cute.”

You groaned and slapped a hand over your face. “I hate you.”

He laughed once, but it was soft, not mean. “No, you don’t.”

You peeked at him through your fingers. “I’m serious. This is embarrassing.”

“Why?” he asked. He shifted his weight, hip still propped on your desk, arms loosely crossed. “You like a guy who is nice to you, makes you laugh, and clearly cares about you. That’s not embarrassing, that’s… normal. Healthy, even.”

You rolled your chair back an inch, the wheels squeaking. “It’s not just that,” you muttered. “He’s my dad’s player. He’s in and out of the rink all the time. If it goes weird, I still have to see him. And Soobin is going to freak out. And my leg is a mess. And I–”

“Hey.” Beomgyu reached out and wrapped his hand around your wrist lightly, pulling on it enough to make you drop your hand from your face. “Breathe.”

You did, grudgingly.

He held your gaze. “You don’t have anything to worry about with him. Heeseung is a great guy. Like, objectively. Yeonjun and I don’t hand out the ‘we approve’ stamp for fun, you know?”

You snorted despite yourself. “You literally do.”

“Okay, for other people it doesn’t count,” he conceded. “But for you, we would never, you know that, Y/N. Heeseung is my friend, yes, but I also know that he makes you happy, and you make him happy. You’re one of the most important people in my life, you know that. I only want the best for you, and if that is Heeseung, I’ll gladly support and defend the two of you. He’s respectful. He’s not going to mess you around. Soobin knows that too. He’s just…” He hesitated, searching for the word. “…Soobin.”

You let out a slow breath, shoulders slumping. “Protective,” you finished for him.

“Yeah,” Beomgyu agreed. “He watched you almost die in a hospital bed. He watched you learn how to walk again. It fried his brain a little. He’s always going to be twitchy about anyone getting close, because he doesn’t want to see you in pain.”

“I know,” you said quietly. You fiddled with the edge of a sticky note on your desk, peeling it up and pressing it back down. “Doesn’t make it less annoying.”

“True,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “But he’s not stupid. He likes Heeseung as a player and as a person. He’s grumpy because you’re his little sister, not because Heeseung is bad news.”

You huffed, looking back at the frozen frame on your screen, Heeseung mid-laugh, eyes almost closed, shoulders relaxed in a way they rarely were on the ice. Your chest squeezed.

“So,” Beomgyu continued, voice lightening a bit, “you like him, he clearly likes you, and both Yeonjun and I approve. Soobin will come around, I’m sure.” He straightened and spread his hands. “Honestly? You’re pretty much out of excuses.”

You glared half-heartedly. “You’re very irritating when you’re right.”

He grinned. “It’s a gift.”

You hesitated, then let the corner of your mouth lift. “You really think I don’t have to worry?”

“I really think,” he said, his tone warm and sure, “that if there is one person you’re allowed to fall for, it’s Lee Heeseung. Please don’t literally fall. I don’t think anyone around you would survive seeing you fall to the floor without having a heart attack. Me included.”

You groaned again, but this time there was a laugh tucked into it. “Shut up.”

He pushed off the desk and headed for the door, tossing a look back over his shoulder. “I’m just saying: if you’re going to like someone, he’s a pretty good choice. And if Soobin freaks out, I’ll tell him it was my idea.”

You blinked. “It wasn’t your idea.”

“I know,” Beomgyu said, winking. “Makes the sacrifice more heroic.”

You rolled your eyes, but your chest felt a little lighter. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah,” he said. “And you like Heeseung.”

“Get out of my office,” you said, cheeks burning.

He laughed all the way down the hall.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊ 

The living room in Yeonjun’s, Beomguy’s and Soobin’s dorm was loud and stuffy with ten people crammed in the tight space. Game night at their flat was usually chaotic and filled with loads of unhealthy food and alcohol, which is why it didn’t happen too often during the season, but they had this weekend off and decided it was time to just come down for a second. Someone was screaming about being blue-shelled in Mario Kart, and laughter echoed through the room. Heeseung barely registered any of it.

He was sunk into one end of the couch, shoulder pressed against the backrest, and you were stretched out along the cushions, your back resting against the opposite arm, both of your legs draped over his lap. Your right ankle was propped carefully, and he had his hands wrapped around your calf, thumbs moving in slow, deliberate circles into the tight muscle. He could feel the tension under his fingers, the way your leg slowly, gradually relaxed. 

He had come a bit later than the others, having had a meeting with the coach about the new recruits for the team. They haven’t integrated themselves as well as anyone would have wished, and the coach was looking for ways to change that, asking his captain for his intel. Heeseung doubted that his opinion on the whole situation mattered much, seeing how your father was set on benching most of the new players. You told him to just tell your dad what he thought, that maybe he would listen, even if you yourself doubted that. 

When he finally entered the living room, you were already stretched over the sofa, Beomguy in the position Heeseung was in now, while he played an intense match of Mario Kart against the others. Beomguy had lost and excused himself to go to the toilet, when Heeseung had just finished greeting the rest and getting himself some pizza, so he took the opportunity and sat down in Beomguy's place. 

You tentatively asked if you could use him for stretching out your legs, and he had carefully guided them into his lap. “You are never allowed to stop doing this,” you muttered, as he started to work on the muscles, or well, whatever muscle was left in the calf. It was surprisingly soft when he first touched it. 

Your head tipped back, eyes half-lidded. “I will sue you.”

Heeseung huffed a quiet laugh, looking down at your leg so he would not stare at your face too much. “I am pretty sure that is not how suing works.”

“It is now,” you said, not even trying to inject real threat into it. 

“Sure,” he said softly. “I’m shaking with fear, Y/N.”

You snorted at that, but the sound dissolved into a breathy, involuntary noise when his thumbs pressed into a knot just above your ankle. It was not a polite little sigh. It was a low, almost obscene groan that punched straight through his chest and settled somewhere hot and uncomfortable in his stomach.

Oh. Oh no.

He felt his ears burn instantly, heat creeping up his neck. Heeseung kept his gaze firmly on your ankle, fingers continuing the same slow, steady motion as if nothing had happened.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, voice coming out rough. “Marry me.”

He laughed, but it came out a touch higher than usual. “I have to decline, Y/N. I want a more romantic proposal. ”

“Rude,” you sighed. “That was very romantic.”

He swallowed a smile and focused on his hands. “Is it bad today? You seem tired?”

You hummed, your head resting on the backrest of the sofa. “A bit? My hip and my back have been acting up, so I took the legally allowed dosage of painkillers. So I’m a bit,” you gestured vaguely in the air with one hand. “Tired? But it’s fine.”  

It didn’t feel fine to him, so he just nodded and hummed, caressing your knee for a second. Even through your jeans, he could feel the unnatural shape of the bone and the tissue underneath. 

“How was your meeting with my dad?” you asked a few seconds later, watching his hands work. “I'm sorry if he was pissed. We fought a bit because I wanted to come even though I am in pain.” 

Heeseung's gaze wandered up, his hands halting for a second before he continued. He didn’t agree often with his coach, but not letting you come seemed like a good idea, considering how exhausted you looked. “It was fine. He is pretty set on benching the others for the next few games until they finally get it in their heads that we won’t play as violently as they do.”

You hummed and closed your yes, nodding in agreement. "He's right tho. Woojin and Seojong should stop trying to start fights on the ice. It won’t get you anywhere.”

“I know,” Heeseung muttered. 

A shadow fell over the two of you, and a hand appeared in his peripheral vision, holding a bottle and a glass with a milky fluid inside. “Another drink for you, Y/N!”  Beomgyu announced, already flushed and grinning. “Heeseungie, do you want a drink?”

Heeseung’s hands stilled for a second. You turned your head toward Beomgyu, eyes lighting up just a little. “For me? Hell yeah.”

“No, Y/N,” Heeseung said at the same time.

Both you and Beomgyu looked at him. “What?” you asked.

Beomgyu blinked. “She said yes, captain.”

“She is on meds,” Heeseung replied, keeping his voice calm but absolute. “She is not drinking on top of that.”

Your bottom lip pushed out immediately. “Just one?”

“No.” He met your gaze, forcing himself not to soften. 

Beomgyu raised his free hand in surrender. “Okay, no Milkis shots for Y/N.” He backed away toward the kitchen again, calling over his shoulder, “More for me then!”

You let your head fall back against the cushion with a dramatic groan. “You are no fun.”

“I am very fun,” Heeseung said, starting to move his thumbs again, slower now. “I am also not interested in seeing you passed out on your brother's floor because you mixed meds and alcohol.”

You huffed, pouting at him. “It wouldn’t have been that bad,” you muttered while you reached for a class filled with what he assumed was Coke. “I’ve done that a million times.”

“Well, not on my watch, Y/N,” he said. Then he added, quieter, “Alcohol will make your foot feel worse, and if you’re already feeling like shit, you don’t have to add fuel to the fire. I would love to not have to worry about that, Y/N.”

He felt, rather than saw, the way that landed. Your shoulders relaxed a little, your mouth softened around the straw of the Coke you had. You did not comment on it, but you did not pull your legs away either. 

“I promise I’m usually careful,” you mumbled after a moment, “You won’t have to worry about me.”

He smiled, eyes flicking to your face. “I know.”

“Good,” you said. 

The two of you went silent for a long moment, just watching the TV screen where the four characters were driving through Bowser's castle. You made another sound when he found another knot, half sigh and half something that sat too close to that earlier groan for his sanity, and your eyes slipped closed. He kept massaging the spot, his finger gently pressing into your calf, while you took deep, relaxed breaths. 

He loved this more than he should.

He loved that you trusted him enough to pass out like this in a room full of people, your leg over his lap, your face turned toward him. 

He loved that he could say no when you wanted something that would hurt you, and you would pout, complain, and then listen. 

He knew exactly what it was at this point. 

He didn’t just like you. 

He had a crush, full-on, warm and terrifying and relentless. 

And he was pretty sure you were reciprocating those feelings to a certain degree. And he loved knowing that even more than anything else. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊ 

At some point, the volume in the living room dipped. Mario Kart had finally been abandoned, and someone had put on a movie. Yeonjun had dimmed the lights, only the TV and a floor lamp casting soft pools of glow across the room.

Soobin wandered back in from the kitchen, a fresh drink in his hand. His gaze swept the room, landed on you and Heeseung on the couch, and softened.

“Move,” he said quietly, nudging Heeseung’s knee with his own.

Heeseung shifted without complaint, scooting a bit closer to the middle so Soobin could squeeze onto the other side of you. Your legs were still draped over Heeseung’s lap, his hands resting lightly around your calf now instead of working into the muscle. Soobin settled down with a small sigh, one arm draping over the back of the couch behind his shoulders.

You were clearly fighting sleep, your blinking slower, your breaths deeper. Every so often, your foot twitched against Heeseung’s thigh, and he adjusted his hold automatically, checking without thinking that your ankle was still in a position that would not hurt later.

Then your head started to dip forward.

He watched it happen in slow motion, your chin tipping toward your chest, shoulders hunching as gravity won. You jerked awake at the last second, catching yourself with an embarrassed little inhale, eyes blinking wide for a moment.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, straightening, rubbing at your face. “I am awake.”

“It is fine,” Heeseung said, voice low so he would not disturb the others. He shifted a bit closer, angling his shoulder toward you deliberately. “Just use my shoulder.”

You looked at him like he had suggested you climb onto his lap instead. “No. That is weird.”

“It is not weird,” he insisted. “You are tired. Your neck is going to die if you keep doing that.”

“I’m fine," you muttered, and stayed upright, staring stubbornly at the screen.

He let it go for about five minutes. In that time, your head bobbed forward twice more, each time snapping back up with a soft curse. Soobin glanced down at you once, worry flickering over his face, but you just waved him off, insisting you were fine.

Heeseung gave it one more minute, then spoke again, quieter. “Seriously. Just use my shoulder. It is okay.”

You blew out a breath, somewhere between annoyed and resigned. “You are very persistent, you know that?”

“Yes,” he said, a smile ghosting over his lips. “I get told that a lot.”

You rolled your eyes, but this time, when your head dipped again, you let it keep going. Slowly, almost reluctantly, you leaned sideways until your temple found his shoulder. You adjusted for a second, a small frown appearing as you shifted to find a better angle, then your muscles unwound bit by bit. He felt the exact moment you gave in, your weight settling more fully, your body sinking into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“There,” he murmured. “Not weird.”

You hummed something faint that he could not catch. It might have been an insult, might have been an agreement, but your eyes slid closed fully this time and did not open again. Your breathing evened out, warm against his neck. One of your hands, which had been resting on your stomach, slipped sideways, fingers brushing his forearm before going limp.

He kept his shoulder steady, barely daring to move. He adjusted his arm just enough to keep your leg from sliding, his fingers resting light against your shin. On his other side, Soobin watched the screen, but from the corner of his eye, Heeseung noticed the way Soobin’s gaze flicked down to you every so often. 

There was something soft there, something protective, but there was no tension directed at him. If anything, Soobin looked… relieved. 

Heeseung's heart made a weird movement at that. His gaze wandered to your face again before he turned his eyes back to the TV, even though he was not really absorbing anything on it. 

All his senses were full of you, the weight of your head, the warmth pressed along his side, the occasional small twitch of your foot. 

An hour later, the movie credits rolled slowly across the screen, casting pale blue light over the living room. The volume had been turned low at some point, just enough to hear the soft synth music over the occasional snore from Yeonjun. Some of the others got up to get something to drink or to go to the toilet, but Heeseung didn’t move. 

His shoulder was stiff, his right leg numb under the weight of yours, but he stayed still as stone. Your head was still tucked against him, temple pressed warm to his collarbone, your breaths slow and even. One of your hands had curled into the fabric of his t-shirt sometime while you slept, fingers loose but holding on, like you had reached for him without thinking.

He glanced down at you, careful not to shift too much. Your face was relaxed in sleep, mouth parted just slightly, the tension gone from around your eyes. It made something ache in his chest, sharp and sweet.

He noticed that Soobin had been watching him for a moment, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. "You alright?"

Heeseung blinked, tearing his gaze away from your sleeping figure. "Yeah. Why?"

Soobin shrugged one shoulder, but there was a knowing tilt to his mouth. "Just checking. She’s been sleeping on you for a while now."

Heat crept up Heeseung's neck before he could stop it. "Yeah, she was tired. I figured my shoulder was more comfortable than her sleeping without any support.”

Soobin hummed, not quite buying the casual tone. "She sleeps like a baby, apparently. Especially when you're around."

Heeseung's ears burned hotter. "She was tired," he said, aiming for defensive but landing somewhere closer to flustered. "Painkillers and everything. You know."

"Mhm," Soobin said, clearly amused now. "And she apparently likes to do that, resting on your shoulder. Very cosy."

"Shut up," Heeseung muttered, but there was no heat in it. He could feel his face going red, scrambling for an out. "She was just comfortable. It is not–"

Beomgyu looked up from his phone, cutting in before Soobin could twist the knife further. "Leave Heeseung alone. You are not Y/N's dad."

Soobin snorted, uncrossing his arms. "I might not be, but I’m still her older brother. And I just wanna make sure they are being safe and happy before I go on and ruin Heeseung's life."

Heeseung choked on air. "We are not–"

"Relax," Soobin said, waving a hand. "I am messing with you. Mostly."

Beomgyu cackled quietly, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. "My god, Hee, you should have seen your face."

Heeseung groaned, rubbing his free hand over his face, but the rest just chuckled quietly.

“So are we gonna watch part two?, Yunjin asked after she came back with another round of drinks for the rest and water for Heeseung. 

“Sure,” Soobin shrugged and searched for the second instalment of whatever movie they were watching, while Heeseung leaned back into the sofa, adjusting your body a bit and carefully brushing some loose strands of hair out of your face, not caring that the whole room was watching. 

When the second movie ended, almost everyone was asleep or close to falling asleep. Heeseung was sure he himself had slept for a bit, his head now resting on yours. He couldn’t remember a big chunk of the movie and couldn’t understand the plot twist, not that he cared much. 

Soobin reached for the remote, turning the TV off before he slowly got up, squatting down next to Chaewon, who was curled against the wing chair Yunjin was sleeping in, slowly waking her up. 

Heeseung watched them for a second, the way she blinked her eyes open, how Soobin lovingly stroked her hair, her face, until she seemed more awake. She stretched, and they whispered something before he leaned down to press a kiss against her forehead. He straightened up and collected a few of the cups standing around, carrying them to the kitchen. 

Heeseung followed his figure for a few seconds, thinking about what to do next. He decided that he should wake you up, so you could go to bed properly. He dipped his head a little, voice barely above a whisper near your ear. "Y/N. The movie's over. Let’s get you home."

You stirred immediately, but not in the way he expected. Your eyebrows pulled together in a grumpy little frown, and instead of lifting your head, you curled closer. Your hand tightened in his shirt, fingers fisting the cotton, and you made a small, displeased noise deep in your throat. "No," you mumbled, face pressing harder into his shoulder. "Five more minutes."

Heeseung bit back a smile, heat creeping up his neck at the way you burrowed into him. "Come on. Don’t you want to get changed and sleep in your bed?"

"Mm," was all you managed, stubbornly clinging.

Soobin watched the exchange, amusement flickering in his eyes before it shifted to something more serious. He chuckled softly, taking the empty Coke cans on the table. "Just let her sleep. I will carry her to my bed."

Heeseung's stomach did an unhelpful flip. He looked down at you again, your fingers still curled in his shirt, your weight fully relaxed against his side. 

“Are you sure? Don’t you and Chaewon noona sleep there?” He asked with uncertainty. “I can bring Y/N home, it’s no problem.” 

Soobin's eyebrows lifted slightly, wariness sharpening his gaze. He studied Heeseung for a long moment, glance flicking between his face and the way your hand gripped his shirt. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Heeseung nodded once, firm. "I have her. Do not worry."

Soobin held his eyes a beat longer, something unreadable passing there. Heeseung knew this facial expression. Soobin was calculating, thinking, but then he exhaled slowly and nodded. "Can you take her to your flat? I am sure neither you nor she wants my dad to know about the two of you."

"I will," Heeseung promised.

Your brother hummed. “Okay. Let me get Beomgyu. He’ll help with her stuff. I’ll get Chae to bed in the meantime.” 

Heeseung nodded wordlessly, and Soobin seemed satisfied enough, turning back to Chaewon, who seemed a bit wobbly on her feet when she stood up. 

A minute later, Beomgyu stumbled in from the kitchen, cheeks flushed and eyes a bit glassy, carrying your crutches in one hand and your bag and shoes dangling from the other. 

“Got it,” he slurred cheerfully, swaying just a bit. “Ready, loverboy?”

Heeseung huffed a quiet laugh despite himself, carefully shifting to gather you up, one arm behind your back, the other under your knees. You were lighter than he expected, even with the dead weight of sleep, your head lolling to rest against his shoulder. 

He stood slowly, adjusting his hold, silently thanking his coach, Jay, and Sunghoon for every gruelling gym session that made him go through.

Your hand stayed fisted in his shirt the whole time.

Beomguy walked ahead, balancing your crutches and bag, kicking open the door with his foot. On the way down the hallway, he glanced back over his shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re taking such good care of her, hyung,” he said over his shoulder, voice a little thick from the alcohol but warm, sincere. His eyes met Heeseung’s for a moment, soft and trusting. “She needs someone like you. Don’t mind Soobin too much. He’ll come around. You’re a great guy for her.”

Heeseung blinked for a second, stunned from the statement, before he swallowed. “Thanks, Gyu. It means a lot to me to hear that from you.” Heeseung adjusted his hold on you. “I don’t mind,” he answered honestly. “I mean Soobin, and the coach. I like being there for her, even if I have to defend myself from them.”

Beomgyu’s mouth twitched into a small, knowing smile. “Yeah. I figured.” He pushed the building’s front door open, letting the cool night air wash over all three of you. Rain tapped softly against the pavement outside. “You two will be fine. Just… keep her out of her dad’s line of sight until you’re ready for that talk, okay?”

“Okay,” Heeseung said. 

They crossed quickly to his car. Beomguy opened the back door and set your crutches and bag on the seat, tucking your shoes beside them. Meanwhile, Heeseung opened the front passenger door with his elbow, then shifted you carefully to settle you into the seat. Your head lolled toward him, eyes blinking open for a second.

“Hm?” you murmured, voice heavy with sleep. “Where’re we going?”

“To my place,” Heeseung said softly, buckling your seatbelt and adjusting the strap so it did not dig into your neck. “You can sleep. I’ll get you home tomorrow.”

You hummed, eyelids already drooping shut again. “’ Kay,” you breathed. “’S fine.”

Heeseung chuckled and shrugged off his jacket, draping it over you like a blanket, tucking it gently around your shoulders. You made a small, content sound and snuggled deeper into the seat.

He closed the door quietly and walked around to the driver’s side. Beomguy watched him with a mixture of fondness and something like amusement. “Drive safe. Text me when you’re there.”

“I will,” Heeseung repeated, meaning it.

The drive was mostly silent. The radio was off, leaving only the hum of the engine and the occasional swish of tyres on the damp road. You slept through almost all of it, your face turned toward him, breaths slow and even. 

Halfway to his building, you stirred, blinking groggily. “Hee?” you asked, voice rough. “Where are we?”

“Almost at my flat,” he said gently. “You okay with that?”

You stared at him for a moment, eyes heavy, brain clearly fighting through sleep fog. Then you nodded once. “Yeah,” you whispered. “’ M tired.”

He smiled to himself. “Thought so. Go back to sleep.”

By the time he parked and turned off the engine, you were out again. He sat there for a second, just watching you, the way his jacket had slipped half off your shoulder. Then he shook himself and climbed out, circling around to your side. He opened the door carefully and slipped one arm under your knees, the other around your back, lifting you out of the seat and cradling you against his chest again.

You mumbled something unintelligible, your head dropping to his shoulder. He nudged the door shut with his hip and made his way into the building. The elevator came quickly, and he stood in there, your weight solid and warm in his arms, your breath brushing his collarbone in little puffs. He shifted you a little higher as he reached his door, fishing his keys from his pocket with his free hand. It took him two tries, but he managed to unlock it without dropping you.

Inside, the apartment was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the city through the windows. He nudged the door shut with his heel and walked straight to his room, moving by muscle memory. At the edge of his bed, he paused for a second, lowering you slowly, like you were made of glass.

He eased you down onto the mattress, one hand behind your head until it met the pillow. Then he slid his arms out from under you, careful not to jostle your leg. You sank into his duvet, his jacket still wrapped around you, a soft exhale leaving your lips.

But before he could fully pull away, your hand shot out, grabbing his wrist.

"No," you mumbled, eyes still closed, voice thick with sleep. "It's cold. Stay."

Heeseung froze, heart thudding hard against his ribs. "I’m gonna get the two of us pyjamas, Y/N."

You tugged weakly at his wrist, not opening your eyes, curling toward his warmth. "Just a minute. Please."

He exhaled slowly, glancing at his closet, then back at you. You looked so small there, half-buried in the duvet, fingers loose around his wrist. He gave in to your plea.

"Okay," he whispered. "Just a minute."

He sat carefully on the edge of the bed. You curled into him almost immediately, your head resting against his thigh, a content little hum escaping as you settled. His hand moved on instinct, fingers threading gently through your hair, petting slow, slow, careful strokes from crown to nape, the strands soft and cool under his touch. 

"Mhmm," you sighed, your body going fully limp.

Heeseung sat there, barely breathing, one hand in your hair, the other resting light on the duvet near your arm. The room was dark except for the sliver of light spilling from the city lights outside. Your breathing evened out deeper, face smoothing completely now, and he could not make himself move.

His thumb brushed your temple lightly, tracing the edge of your hairline. 

One more minute, he told himself. 

Then he would get up, get changed, get ready for bed, maybe even coax you into changing into pyjamas.

But he stayed put. 

Petting your hair, feeling the soft strands slip through his fingers, listening to the quiet rhythm of your breaths. 

After a few minutes, he did get himself to stand up. He slid his hand free from your hair with infinite care, lifting your head just enough to settle it back onto the pillow. You stirred faintly but did not wake, curling into the warmth of the duvet instead. He stood up, his legs a little numb from sitting so still, and moved quietly to his closet. He pulled out a loose t-shirt and drawstring pants that would not press on your leg, then laid them neatly on the bed beside you.

"Hey, Y/N. I’m going to the bathroom," he murmured, unsure if you were still awake enough to hear him. "You can change into them if you want to."

You hummed faintly, a small, incoherent sound, but did not stir further.

Heeseung chuckled lowly and grabbed his own sleeping clothes before he headed to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth quickly, splashed water on his face, changed into a t-shirt and sweats. He caught a glimpse of his reflection, of his messy hair, the stubble along his chin, the faint blush on his cheeks. He shook his head and slipped back into the bedroom. 

He was surprised to see that you had also changed into the pyjama he had laid out for you. Your hoodie and pants are lying in a small pile on the floor, next to your cast. Heeseung cursed under his breath when he realised that your bag and more importantly, your crutches were still in his car. He turned around and begrudgedly made his way down to his car again.  

When he carefully closed the door to his room, your stuff in his hands, he had to suppress a laugh. You had shifted positions again, lying spread out almost horizontal in his bed, one of your arms hanging off his bed. 

Heeseung set your bag and crutches against the wall, then eyed the tiny strip of bed still technically "his." There was no way he was fitting without moving you a bit. 

He eased onto the mattress carefully, trying to shift your limbs just enough to carve out space, one hand nudging your dangling arm back onto the bed, the other sliding your sprawled leg over a few inches.

You stirred immediately, whining low and petulant without even opening your eyes. "Mmm... nooo, stop moving me," you mumbled, flopping dramatically back into your original position, reclaiming every inch. "My spot."

Heeseung laughed softly, the sound escaping despite his efforts to stay quiet. "Y/N, this is my bed. You've taken the whole thing. There's no space left for me."

Your eyes cracked open just a sliver, bleary and unimpressed, before you huffed and pushed yourself up with a groan. "Fine," you slurred, scooting toward the headboard just enough to let him slide in fully. The second he was settled, his back against the pillows, legs stretched out, you let yourself drop right onto him like dead weight, burying your face in his chest with a contented sigh. Your arms looped loosely around his waist, cheek squishing against his t-shirt, legs tangling carefully around his to avoid your bad one.

He froze for half a second, heart stuttering at the sudden closeness, then relaxed with a quiet chuckle, his arm coming up to wrap around your shoulders. "There. Happy now?"

"Mmhm," you hummed into his chest, already drifting again, your breath warm and even against him. "Perfect."

He smiled into the dark, fingers threading lightly through your hair once more. "Night, Y/N."

You did not answer, already gone, and he let his eyes close, the weight of you grounding him perfectly into sleep.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊ 

You woke slowly, the world filtering in piece by fuzzy piece, first the soft glow of morning light sneaking through the blinds, then the steady rise and fall of Heeseung's chest underneath you. Your cheek was squished against the soft cotton of his shirt, one of your arms slung across his waist, while your legs tangled up, with your injured one resting upon his. One of his arms was resting behind our neck, the other one behind his head, his breathing deep and even, face slack in sleep.

You blinked up at him carefully, not daring to twitch a muscle. His hair stuck up in every direction, lips parted just a little, the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw catching the light. He looked younger like this, softer, completely unguarded. Your heart did a slow, warm flip. 

For a second, you were embarrassed for having apparently decided to cling to him like a monkey for the night, but if you were honest, you couldn’t care less. You’ve been in pain ever since you woke up the day before. Not even the pain killers helped, the only thing they did was make you incredibly tired and leave you nauseous the whole day. 

Your leg was still throbbing, but you didn't know exactly why. The position you’ve fallen asleep in wasn’t exactly the best for your body; your hip felt stiff, and the pressure against the scar wasn’t helping, nor was the fact that your ankle was still wrapped in a sock and not elevated. You could feel the swelling, your foot pressing against the compression in pulses that mirrored your heartbeat.

You slightly moved your leg, experimentally flexing the muscles, only to suppress a wince. You took a deep, resigned breath and just closed your eyes, trying to fall asleep again, ignoring that you should get up and take your meds, maybe even go to the toilet, only to rip your eyes open. 

You couldn't remember going to the bathroom, nor could you remember brushing your teeth, nor removing your makeup. 

That thought got a real groan out of you before you pressed your lips onto each other, praying that Heeseung didn’t wake up from the sound. 

You glanced at his face, but he didn’t even flinch in his sleep. You chuckled lowly, remembering how the others had mentioned that an atombomb could go off next to Heeseung without waking him. You slowly moved your leg a bit, trying your best to ignore the pain and adjust your upper body a bit, feeling his heartbeat thump steadily and strongly under your palm.

A few minutes after you had closed your eyes again, doing your best to fall asleep again, a knock came from Heeseung's door. It creaked open cautiously, Jay’s head poking in. He froze mid-step, eyes widening at the sight of you curled into Heeseung’s side, his arm draped protectively over you, both of you tangled deep in the duvet.

Jay cleared his throat quietly, suppressing a grin. “Uh… hey…Y/N. Good morning.”

“Hi Jay,” you answered, smiling at him, not lifting your head from Heeseung's chest.

“I’m going to go grocery shopping because I was planning on cooking galbi jjim later and wanted to know if Hyung wanted something from E-Mart…or if the two of you are here for dinner?”

You blinked at him for a second, warmth spreading in your chest at the more or less casual invitation. “I would love to stay for dinner, but I should probably get home. I don’t have my meds here, and I need a change of clothes? But I’ll ask Hee if he needs something from E Mart and make it text you?”

“Sure, thank you,” Jay gave you a small, but warm smile. “Have a nice day then, Y/N.” 

You nodded at him. “You too, Jay.”

He quietly closed the door again, only for Heeseung to stir awake a few seconds after. He blinked groggily, his arm tightened instinctively around your shoulders for a split second, cheeks flushing as he sat up a little straighter. “Y/N?,” he rasped, voice rough and gravelly with sleep.

You hummed, leaning onto your elbow to look at his face. “Good morning.”

He groaned low, moving his free arm up to his face, trying to block the weak light coming from his curtains by draping it over his eyes. “Too early,” he mumbled. His voice was muffled and whiny, cursing you to chuckle. 

“You just missed Jay,” you whispered, watching him run his hand over his face, before he slowly put his gaze on you. “He’s going to e-mart and asked if you need anything?”

He grunted low in acknowledgement, the vibration rumbling through his chest into you, his fingers coming up to brush your hair back gently. “I’ll text him later. He spends hours grocery shopping.”

You nodded and hummed contentedly, nestling deeper into him despite the persistent throb in your leg and the slow but growing need to use the toilet. His warmth seeped into you, while his heart was still beating slow and steady beneath your palm.

You were silent for a while, and if it wasn't for his fingers still brushing your hair back with the gentlest touch, you would have thought he fell asleep again. His hand had drifted lower after a while, tracing light, lazy lines along your arm, fingertips grazing from your shoulder to your elbow and back again, so feather-soft it sent goosebumps prickling up your skin in warm little waves. 

You shivered faintly at the sensation.

"You were really out of it yesterday," he murmured after a moment, his voice low as he broke the silence in the room. "Like, completely gone. You barely stirred the whole time I carried you."

You cracked one eye open. "I sleep like a baby after taking pain killers,” you said softly. "Those things always knock me flat. I am a truly deep sleeper on them. Like, you could not wake me up if you tried."

He nodded slowly, his thumb continuing those slow circles on your arm, raising fresh goosebumps every pass. "I noticed." He paused, his touch lingering a little longer at your elbow. "I like that you feel safe enough to crash like that around me. Even though you’ve missed both movies."

Your heart squeezed, warmth blooming deeper in your chest. You tilted your head up just enough to meet his eyes, soft and sleepy in the morning light. "Were they good?"

Heeseung let out a sheepish laugh, his cheeks tinting pink as he scratched the back of his neck with his free hand. "I didn’t really pay attention, if I’m honest. I’ve been pretty tired the last few days as well, and zoned out during most of it. I fell asleep for at least half of it myself, I think."

You grinned up at him, your eyes crinkling despite the quiet discomfort in your body, which was now rapidly growing, the more awake you were. "We both suck at movie nights."

"I don’t care if it’s only that we’re bad in," he said, smirking back, his arm tightening around you just a fraction. His fingers resumed their path along your arm, slow and tender.

You let out a soft sigh, your hand curling a little tighter into his shirt. "I really like this," you admitted quietly, voice barely above a whisper, your cheek pressing warmer against his chest. "Waking up here. With you. Like this."

He went still for a heartbeat, his hand pausing mid-stroke. Then he smiled down at you, eyes crinkling soft and full of something warm and unspoken. "I like it too," he murmured, his voice low and sincere, thumb brushing your arm again like a promise. "A lot."

You both fell quiet after that, just breathing together, his hand petting lazy patterns on your skin, your body soaking in his warmth despite the ache, before you decided to break the spell and use the toilet. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊ It had been raining all week. 

Thick clouds were above the skyscrapers of the city, relentlessly blocking out any late autumn sunrays that could have lightened your mood just a little bit. 

Since you’ve gotten home from Heeseung's flat on the weekend, you’ve been caught up trying to get on track with your classes. Midterms were coming up soon, and you really had to start taking them seriously.

You had been sitting in a random classroom in the business department, clicking through your flashcards, trying to memorise everything you had noted down for over an hour now. Beomguy had promised to pick you up after his classes ended for the day, the two of you wanting to go out and get something to eat together.

The rain pelted against the windows, thick drops coating the whole thing into streaks of water. 

You hated the sound of it.

But you couldn’t study while listening to music, so you did your best to ignore it.

And it did work, you did get through at least half of your flashcards when the first rumble of thunder rolled low in the distance.

You flinched before you could stop yourself, your shoulders jumping, the cursor stuttering where your hand jerked. 

You froze, eyes on the screen, then forced your jaw to relax.

It was just thunder. It was fine. You were inside. 

You were safe.

You took a slow breath and tried to focus back on your laptop, only to flinch when it thundered a second time, much closer this time. You raised your head and caught the exact moment a lightning strike hit. It felt like the following thunder rattled the whole building, a bright white flash bleeding at the edges of your vision.

Your hand tightened around your mouse, your nails scraping along the plastic, while the next flashcard appeared. 

The screen started swimming in front of your eyes, your pulse suddenly thudding in your throat. You tried to close your eyes and control your breathing.

This was only thunder. 

Nothing happened. 

You were safe.

You fumbled for your phone while trying to keep your breathing as steady as possible. Heeseung's contact was on top of your recent caller list and, without thinking, you pressed the button. 

He picked up a few seconds later. “Hi Y/N. What’s up?” His voice was hushed, but he sounded upbeat. 

You swallowed and tried to collect your thoughts as best you could. “Are you... Are you on the campus?”

“Yes, I am in the library. Why? What’s up, Y/N?” he sounded alarmed, his voice a bit louder now. 

“I-”, another rumble of thunder interrupted you, and you had to grip your phone tighter, so it wouldn’t escape your sweaty palm. “Can you get me? I’m in the business building. It’s- I-,” you took a rapid breath. “Please.” 

“Fuck,” Heeseung cursed under his breath, and you heard rustling on his side of the phone. “I’ll be there in a second, Y/N. Where in the building are you?” 

You tried to remember to think of where you were, but it felt like your thoughts were racing too fast for you to grasp any. “I-I upstairs? Third floor?” 

“Okay,” Heeseung said, his voice still hushed. “Can you try to go to the door and open it for me? So I can find you better?” 

You nodded and made a sound that he hopefully interpreted as an agreement. He said something else, but the words didn’t reach your brain.

The room felt smaller all at once, the air tighter when you willed your legs to stand up. You were still pressing your phone against your ear, and you were pretty sure that Heeseung was talking to you, but your sole focus was on trying to get to the door, to get away from this, from here, to safety. Your feet felt like they belonged to someone else, your crutches forgotten next to the chair you had been sitting on. You couldn’t feel the pain of putting your full weight onto your foot, underneath the panic racing through your veins. 

You had made it to the door, it was barely ten steps from your seat, before another crack of thunder hit, so loud it vibrated through the walls and turned your legs to lead. Your whole body jerked, your phone slipping from your hand, clattering onto the floor.

The room spun more slowly, and your vision tunnelled, while nausea built up in your stomach. 

You couldn’t see the grey vinyl floor or the door frame that you were clinging to; instead, you saw rain-slick road, wipers slapping frantically, headlamps blinding white in the downpour. 

It wasn’t real.

This was not real. 

But your breaths came faster, ragged gasps that barely filled your lungs, heart slamming so loud it echoed in your ears. Sweat prickled cold down your spine. 

You wanted it to stop. 

Someone had to make it stop. 

Your thigh burned, a deep, vicious phantom pain flaring up, knives twisting in scar tissue, bone-deep fire racing up your leg like it was happening all over again. 

No. 

Stop. 

You pressed your palm hard against your stomach, but it only made the nausea roll thicker, bile surging hot in your throat. It was as if you could feel it, blood pooling warm on your thigh, your leg going numb, then exploding in white-hot agony, every nerve on fire. You squeezed your eyes shut, sliding down the doorframe, your forehead grinding into your knees. You were starting to hyperventilate, short, desperate pulls of air that left you dizzy. Black spots were dancing behind your lids. 

You couldn't breathe. 

Couldn’t–please stop–

A scream out of pure terror ripped free from your mouth when two hands suddenly touched your shoulders.  

Your head shot up, and when you realised that it was Heeseung, who was gently holding you, you lurched forward, flinging yourself into him, your nails clawing into his wet hoodie, your face smashing into his neck.

"Hey, hey," he soothed, hands rising then wrapping firm around your body, pressing your shaking form against him. "It’s okay. You’re fine. You’re safe."

"I–it hurts–", you didn't even know what you had tried to tell him, through your frantic gasps, but he seemingly understood. “Heeseung–”

"It’s okay," he murmured, his voice low and soft. "You’re okay, I've got you." 

He manoeuvred you a few inches inside the room, pulling the door closed behind him, before he sat down on the floor, sliding you into his lap, your legs draped over his. He rocked you gently, one arm locked around your back, the other cradling your head to his shoulder. "Breathe. You're safe. Everything's fine. It’s just you and me. We're inside. We’re safe."

His rocking was slow, rhythmic, as he whispered against your hair. "In slow, out now, that's it,” his hand rubbing firm circles on your back while you did your best to regain control over your breathing again. 

When your sobs quieted to sniffles, he pulled back just enough to cup your face, thumbs swiping tears. "Wanna talk about it?" he asked softly.

You shook your head and squeezed your eyes closed. 

"Okay," he said instantly, no pressure. "That's fine. We don't have to."

The sound of thunder cracked through the room again, this time quieter, the storm having slowly moved on, but your heart still lurched,d and it sent a fresh wave of panic through you. 

"Hee," you whispered, voice breaking. "Get me out. Please. I need to go home. I can't stay here."

"Yeah," he said, no hesitation, arms tightening. "Yeah, I’ll bring you home."

"I... I need my crutches," you rasped, voice raw, glancing toward the desk where you had left them. Your legs felt like jelly, and pain flared up from your ankle, but staying here wasn't an option.

Heeseung nodded once. "Okay." 

He eased you off his lap gently, steadying you on your good foot while he grabbed the crutches, handing them to you, before walking back to your desk, packing up your laptop and the rest of your things. “I forgot my umbrella in the library. Do you have one here?”

You sniffled and belatedly realised that he was soaked from head to toe. His dark hair was sticking to his forehead, and his hoodie as well as his jeans were dark from the moisture of the rain outside. 

You swallowed and sniffed before nodding. “I think there is one in my bag.” 

He hummed and rummaged in your bag until he found the foldable umbrella at the bottom of it. "Let’s get going,” he said, crossing the room with long strides, after he slung your bag around his shoulders, his hand coming around your elbow. 

You gripped the handles of your crutches tightly, your knuckles turning white, as you slowly made your way to the elevator and towards the main entrance. Heeseung stayed glued to your side, his free hand hovering at your elbow. "Easy," he murmured when you stumbled once. 

Outside, wind whipped rain sideways, but he held the umbrella firm, guiding you to the passenger door. He tossed your bag in the back, helped you fold the crutches down, then buckled you in gently and efficiently, like he'd done it a hundred times. You shivered slightly. The rain had soaked your pants and even your coat, despite his best efforts to keep the two of you dry. 

As soon as heeseung started the car and the windscreen wipers came to life, you had to do your best to suppress a wave of panic. 

The car moved smoothly through the parking lot, and you realised that Heeseung had put on his favourite playlist, turning the volume down, but your hand darted forwards, stopping him. 

“Louder,” you said, closing your eyes, a laboured breath escaping your mouth. “I hate the sound. Please make the music louder.”

You felt his eyes on you, but his fingers moved worldlessly, and the music coming from the speakers increased in volume. 

Your hand was still gripping his wrist, and you dropped it, as if the touch was burning. “Both hands. Use both hands.”

His hand flew to the wheel. 

You stared straight ahead, your eyes fixed on the streaks of water sliding up the windshield as the wipers dragged them away, only for more to take their place. 

The music was loud now, but even your favourite songs in his playlist could not fully drown out the soft hiss of rain on metal. 

You focused on the sound of the engine instead, on the steady hum beneath your feet, on the way the car responded smoothly when Heeseung braked at a light or eased around a corner. One of your hands was fisting the damp fabric of your pants, while the other one was braced against your knee, as you counted each breath in and out. 

The phantom ache in your leg had settled into a heavy throb, but your stomach still twisted with leftover nausea. 

Beside you, Heeseung drove with both hands on the wheel as you had asked, knuckles pale against the dark leather. His jaw was tense, eyes flicking between the road and you more often than any driving instructor would recommend. 

He didn’t speak to you.

You would probably not have been able to answer him anyway.

Every few minutes, you felt his gaze on you again, checking your breathing, the way your shoulders rose and fell.

“Almost there,” he said quietly after a while, more to fill the silence than anything. “Just a few more turns.”

You swallowed and nodded, keeping your eyes shut for the next stretch of road, letting the music wash over you, clinging to the fact that it was his playlist, his car. 

This was not that night. 

You repeated it in your head like a mantra.

When he pulled off the main road toward your apartment complex, you forced your eyes open again. The familiar outline of the buildings rose out of the rain. He flicked on his blinker, slowing down in front of the entrance like he always did when he dropped you off.

“I’ll just–” he started, preparing to stop at the curb.

“Can you drive into the parking garage?” you cut in quickly, your fingers tightening on your knee. Your voice sounded small and hoarse. “Take my mom’s spot. Please.”

He glanced over at you properly then, reading the plea in your expression, the way your shoulders still trembled faintly. “Do you want me to come upstairs with you?”

You nodded slightly. “Yes. Please. I don’t want to be alone.”

“Okay,” he said immediately. “Yeah. We’ll park.”

He steered past the entrance and pulled into the underground garage, the sudden absence of rain on the roof making the car feel strangely quieter. 

Concrete swallowed the outside noise. 

The lights were dim, casting long reflections on the wet floor. He eased into your mother’s usual spot, shifted the car into park, and turned off the engine. The wipers stopped mid-swipe, leaving a half-moon of clear glass in front of you.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

With the storm muffled by concrete, it was easier to breathe. 

You could still hear the rain distantly at the garage entrance, but it no longer felt like it was pressing in on you from all sides. 

Your shoulders dropped a fraction, and your grip on your pants loosened.

Heeseung stayed very still, hands resting on his thighs now, giving you the space to decide. “We can sit here as long as you want,” he said quietly. “No rush.”

You stared at the dashboard, at the faint reflection of your own tired face on the dark screen. The frantic pounding of your heart had dulled to a heavy, exhausted beat. 

Your breathing was still a little uneven, but at least it did not scrape anymore. 

After a minute, you nodded, wiping the back of your hand under your nose.

“Okay,” you murmured. “I think… I’m okay to go up now.”

He nodded once. You watched him unbuckle first, then he reached for your own seat belt with clumsy fingers. The click echoed in the small space. He slipped out and circled the car, opening your door before you could reach for it. 

Cool, dry air from the garage brushed your face. 

He grabbed your crutches from the back and set them within easy reach, then offered you his hand without a word.

You took it.

Your legs still felt unsteady when you swung them out of the car, the brace heavy, muscles sore from the panic. Heeseung slung your bag over his shoulder and locked the car, falling into step with you as you headed toward the elevator.

In the enclosed quiet of the lift, you could hear nothing but the soft hum of the motor and your own breathing. He stood close enough that his arm brushed yours slightly, but he did not crowd you. 

You focused on the numbers ticking upward, on the reflection of the two of you in the mirror, your tired eyes, his worried ones.

When the elevator dinged and the doors opened onto your floor, he looked to you again as if asking for permission before stepping out. You gave him a small nod and moved forward, the rubber tips of your crutches tapping a slow, steady rhythm down the hall. 

At your door, you fumbled with the keypad. Your hands were still a little shaky, but you managed to get it open on the second try.

“Come in,” you said quietly, stepping aside to let him pass. “Just for a bit. I don’t… I don’t want to be alone.”

Heeseung hesitated for a second before he took off his wet sneakers on the threshold. You leaned against the wall, ignoring that your damp clothing would touch the wallpaper, as you fumbled with your shoe and then with your cast, freeing both your feet.  

He watched you silently, waiting for you to finish up, before reaching for the bot, the cast and your one sneaker, to neatly put them next to his shoes. 

You waited for him to straighten up before you limped through the apartment, towards Soobin's old room. The door opened up quietly, and you beelined for his old closet. You flicked on the overhead light, harsh yellow spilling out, and yanked open the cabinet door, before grabbing the first oversized hoodie and sweats you could find. "Here," you muttered, thrusting them at him. "Yours are soaked."

"Thanks," he said softly, taking them.

You hummed and gave him a small smile that didn't reach your eyes, before gesturing for him to leave the room again. “The one to the right is my room.”

He turned around and opened the door to your room softly, revealing the mess that was your room. A few pieces of clothing were strewn across the floor, accompanied by your physio bag and a basket full of freshly washed clothing. 

Heeseung took a few steps inside, putting your bag onto the floor next to your desk before looking up at you again. You hummed a quiet thanks before dropping your crutches onto the floor. 

Exhaustion hit you like a wave, and everything felt wrong: your wet clothes clinging cold to your skin, your smudged makeup, the compression tights that did not stop your leg from throbbing relentlessly. 

You just wanted it off. 

Wanted to rest. 

To sleep. 

Your fingers went to the hem of your shirt, peeling it off in one damp, heavy motion, letting it slap to the floor. Your wet jeans followed next, before you let yourself drop onto your bed to peel the tan compression sock off your leg. The scars on your thigh glared under the light, jagged lines from surgeries, from the accident, colouring and deforming the pale skin in different shapes and colours. You heard Heeseung shift, and when you looked up, his back was turned towards you, and you realised belatedly that you just got undressed in front of him. 

You pressed your lips onto each other and closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, a sinking feeling spreading in your chest, before you turned around on your bed to grab your pyjamas. 

You saw Heeseung tentatively move, where he was standing before he raised his hands and pulled his hoodie over his head, leaving him in a plain t-shirt that clung to his shoulders, jeans still dark and heavy. He hesitated, glancing back, eyes widening when he saw you watching him. Heat blossomed in your face, and you quickly turned towards the wall, "Uh, sorry," you mumbled,” I didn't want to stare.”

Heeseung laughed softly, low and warm. "It's fine." 

Fabric rustled behind you, as you kept staring at the texture of your wall, you heard him unzip his jeans, before he spoke up again. “Where’s the bathroom? We should put our stuff up, so it can dry properly.”

You turned around and hummed in agreement. He was carrying both his and your wet clothes, standing patiently next to the door. 

“I’ll come with you,” you mumbled, already reaching for your crutches. “I want to undo my makeup.” 

Heeseung nodded, adjusting the bundle of damp fabric in his arms, your shirt tangled with his hoodie, jeans slung over one shoulder. You crutched down the short hall after him, the rubber tips thumping softly on the wood floor. 

He moved efficiently, draping everything over the shower curtain rod and the edge of the tub, hoodies unfolded to let air hit the wet spots, jeans hung straight so water wouldn't pool.

You propped your crutches against the wall and leaned in, twisting the faucet with shaky fingers. Your hands were almost working on autopilot, grabbing your cleanser first, the oil dissolving your makeup into milky brown and black rivulets, dripping from your chin into the basin. You watched it for a second, the grime of the day washing literally away, before scrubbing harder, splashing until your face felt raw and clean.

Heeseung waited patiently by the door, arms crossed loosely, eyes on the floor but flicking to you every few breaths, checking without staring. 

"Done," you rasped finally, shutting off the water, grabbing a towel to pat dry.

He followed you back to your room without a word, the air between you comfortable. Heeseung eased onto the bed first, stretching out on his back against the pillows. His arms opened slowly, inviting you in.

You didn't hesitate and crawled in, curling tight into him. Your head found his chest, nose tucked into the crook of his neck, his heartbeat steady under your cheek. His arms wrapped around you, firm but gentle, one hand splaying across your back.

"Are you feeling a bit better?" he murmured, fingers tracing slowly along your spine.

You nodded against him, eyes heavy. "Yeah."

Silence settled for a few breaths, just the soft thud of his heart under your ear, the faint whoosh of cars far below your window. Then the words that had been chewing at you forced their way up.

"I’m… I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice cracking on the last word. "For all of this. For calling you. For–"

Heeseung’s hand stilled on your back. "Hey," he cut in gently but firmly. His fingers slid up to your jaw, guiding your face away from his chest. "Look at me."

You resisted for a second, shame clawing at your ribs, but he waited you out, thumb brushing soothing circles over your cheek. Finally, you let your gaze drag up to his. His eyes were soft, but there was something steady, almost fierce, behind them.

"You did the right thing by calling me," he said, every word deliberate. "Okay? You did the right thing."

Your throat tightened. "But I–"

"No." His brows knit, grip gentle but unyielding as he kept your eyes on his. "Listen to me. I would rather you call me a thousand times like that than sit alone and be terrified. I want you to call me when you’re scared."

Heat burned behind your eyes. "I don’t want to scare you," you whispered. "I know that being there for someone during a panic attack is terrifying."

He let out a breathy, humourless laugh. "Yeah, I was scared shitless," he admitted, lips quirking in a small, self-conscious smile. "Especially when you dropped your phone. One second you’re talking, the next I hear a crash and nothing. I’ve never run so fast in my life." His thumb swiped at the corner of your eye where moisture had gathered. "But I’m glad you did call. I’m glad I could get to you. I’m glad you’re okay."

That did it. The first tear slipped free before you could blink it back, hot against his thumb.

"I’m so tired of this," you choked out, the words tumbling over each other. "I hate that I’m like this. Not just my leg, but… all of it. My head. I’m so–" Your voice fractured. "I’m so sick of being sick."

You dropped your face back into his chest before he could see more, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. A few more tears broke loose, dampening the cotton. Frustration burned sharp and bitter, shame twisting in your stomach. 

You knew you were a burden to your mom, to Soobin, to your friends, and now…now you were it to Heeseung as well. Calling him during an episode. His arms closed around you again, holding you tighter, one hand rubbing slowly up and down your spine, the other coming up to cradle the back of your head. 

He didn’t hush you, didn’t tell you to stop. 

He just let you cry, his fingertips occasionally tracing along your cheekbone, catching stray tears and brushing them away as they fell.

"I know," he murmured after a while, voice low and rough near your ear. "I know it sucks. I know it’s not fair. But you’re not alone in it, okay? You’re not too much. Not for me."

More tears slipped out at that, a soft, broken sound leaving your throat. 

You felt awful, heavy and raw.

He pressed his cheek against the top of your head, breath warm in your hair. "Y/N," he said softly. You don’t have to be okay right now." His hand smoothed over your back again, slow and rhythmic. "Just try to sleep a bit, yeah? After some sleep, everything will feel a little less shit. I promise."

You sniffed, swallowing hard, fingers still twisted in his shirt.

"Will you stay?" you whispered, the words barely there.

His chest rose and fell beneath your ear, steady and sure. "I’m right here," he said, no hesitation. "I’m not going anywhere. Close your eyes."

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊ 

Sleep wouldn’t come, no matter how hard you tried, how exhausted you were, you couldn’t fall asleep. You were still lying in your bed, tangled up with Heeseung, his arm resting warm and heavy across your stomach. He had fallen asleep a while ago; his breathing rose and fell in deep, even rhythms against the back of your neck. 

The storm had faded to a distant drizzle outside your window. 

You felt tired down to your bones. Your leg was throbbing with pain now; it wasn’t bad, but uncomfortable enough for you to struggle falling asleep. 

The silence in the room left your mind enough space to try to piece together what had happened today. 

You haven’t had an episode as bad as today in a while. 

It was so frustrating, not knowing when your brain might shut down, being triggered. You should have known better today. You knew there would be a thunderstorm, you just…ignored it. You ignored the fact that you knew it was a risk, going anywhere when it might thunder. 

You sighed and tried to shake, but he thought away, letting your fingers lightly trace over his hand. You caressed the knuckles where they draped across your stomach. 

His skin was warm under your touch. 

His fingers twitched faintly in sleep. 

You hated how it stole your control, the ghost of the accident haunting you years after it happened. How it turned loud noises into crash, crunch, and blood. How it left you shaking and sick to your stomach. 

You were so tired of fighting it. 

Tired of the pain that came with it. 

The nausea that still sat heavy in your gut.

But Heeseung was here. 

He was right, you did the right thing. You were glad you called him. You were grateful he had come running. Grateful he held you through the worst without a single complaint. 

Your thumb brushed slow circles over his wrist. Thank god for you, you thought. 

The ache in your chest softened just a little.

Your ears perked up at the familiar sound of the keypad unlocking the front door. You heard the sharp sounds of your mom's heels clicking against the flooring before she changed them to the ridiculous Apeach slippers you got her a few years back. 

You glanced up at Heeseung's face. It was relaxed, his eyelids closed and his mouth slightly open, small snoring sounds occasionally escaping them. You knew your mom would check your room. It was the first thing she did whenever she came home. 

You should probably warn Heeseung, wake him up, untangle yourself from his hug, but you couldn’t care less. The two of you were consenting adults…cudding in your bed, there was nothing wrong with that. 

A few seconds later, you heard a small knock coming from your food before your mom carefully peeked in, only to freeze. Her eyes widened at the sight of you being wrapped up in a random stranger's arms, his face half-buried in our hair, while your legs were tangled under the covers. 

A gasp escaped her. "Y/N?!"

You hummed and freed your hand enough to wave to you, Mom. “Hi, Mom.” 

Even to yourself, your voice sounded tired and exhausted, and you saw her face soften for a second before Heeseung stirred slightly, blinking groggily. 

His gaze shifted from you to your mom in the doorway, and his eyes opened comically wide, his cheeks and ears turning red. 

"I–uh–shit–sorry, I–" he made an attempt to sit up, only to be stopped by your hand gently pressing him back into the mattress. 

Your mom stood there, one hand covering her mouth while she processed the fact that there was an unfamiliar man lying in your bed.

 Your own cheeks burned, but your voice stayed steady as you introduced them. "Mom, this is Heeseung. Heeseung, this is my mom."

Heeseung went rigid underneath you, and his face turned even redder. "M-Mrs. Choi," he stammered. His voice cracked high. "I am Heeseung. Lee Heeseung. From the team. Hi. Sorry. I mean, good evening. Nice to meet you."

Your mom blinked. Shock rippled across her features. 

Her mouth opened. 

Then it snapped shut. 

For a heartbeat, the room hung silent. 

But she pulled herself together faster than either of you, smoothing her expression into something composed. She looked almost amused.

"Heeseung," she repeated, nodding once. "Nice to meet you too. Do not panic. You two look cosy. I will cook dinner. Will you be eating with us?"

You answered before he could open his mouth. “Yeah, he will.” 

“Okay, I’ll make sure to cook enough then. I hope you are hungry, Heeseung,” she gave him a teasing smile, and Heeseung just wordlessly nodded, his eyes flickering between you and your mom. 

She nodded and backed out of your room, pulling the door shut with a decisive click.

The second she was gone, Heeseung let his head fall back onto the pillows. He slapped his hands over his face. 

"Your mom," he moaned. His voice was muffled. "She saw me in your bed. I am done. My career is over."

You laughed fully now, the sound was warm and light, before you reached up and pried his hands down slowly. He peeked through his fingers at first. Then he let you peel his hands away completely. 

"It’s not," you murmured. You reached up to fix his sleep-mussed hair. Your thumb brushed his cheek in a gentle caress. "My dad fucking adores you. My mom has never heard him or any of us mutter a bad thing about you."

"Fuck me," he muttered. But his eyes crinkled softly when they met yours.

“I don’t think we’re there yet,” you teased, before leaning in to press a quick kiss to his temple. Surprising him and yourself with the action, but he just sighed and pulled you back down against him. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊ 

Heeseung's stomach was a knot of pure mortification as the smell of sizzling meat and rice drifted through the gaps in the door. 

Your mom had just seen him, wrapped up in her daughter's bed, sleeping on her daughter, and she invited him for dinner?

You were resting on his chest again, swiping through TikTok on his phone, while he tried to stop himself from panicking. He couldn’t understand how you were so chill about this situation. 

Your mother, the wife of his coach, saw the two of you!

He would get killed. 

Your father would kill him. 

You were still lounging on his chest, thumb flicking lazily through TikTok on his phone, your breath warm and even against his collarbone. 

How were you this calm? 

He cleared his throat carefully, and your eyes flicked up, soft and searching, locking on his. “Do you… Do you know if your dad will be there for dinner?” he asked, voice cautious.

You hummed, thumb pausing. “Maybe. But usually not. Thursdays, he’s out with friends.”

He hummed back, strained, fingers twitching restlessly against your shoulder. “You don’t think it’s… weird?”

Your head tilted against him. “Maybe? Do you?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, cheeks heating fresh. “Your mom saw us. Like this. And now I’m… what? Staying for dinner?”

You shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t think she minds? Do you want to go home?”

“No,” he rushed out, arm curling tighter around you on pure instinct. “I want to stay. I want to make sure you’re okay.” 

His eyes dropped to your mouth without meaning to, then snapped back up to your eyes, his pulse kicking harder. He was sure you could hear his heart beating rapidly in his chest now.

You shifted, propping yourself up on one elbow, your expression turning tentative, almost shy. Your hand lifted, careful, hesitant, fingers ghosting the air before brushing his jaw in an almost feathery-light touch. They trembled faintly as they traced the line of it, cupping his face fully, thumbs sweeping slowly under his eyes. 

“I’m okay,” you whispered, voice thick and low. “I promise I am. Thank you, Heeseung. For… everything.”

His free hand slid up instinctively, covering yours, pressing it firmer against his cheek, his thumb stroking your knuckles softly. 

“Anytime,” he rasped, voice gravel. “I mean it. Always.”

His gaze dropped to your mouth again, in an almost helpless motion. You were close enough for your foreheads to almost touch. He could feel the heat of your breath against his lips, your gaze focused on his lips, as he carefully leaned in, only to stop millimetres before touching your lips. “Dinner’s ready!” your mom called from down the hall, her voice warm and welcoming, breaking the moment.

You both froze, chests heaving, eyes locked wide. Neither of you moved for a moment before his forehead dropped the last centimetres to yours instead, your noses nudging, and your breath mingling together.

“Dinner’s getting cold!” she called louder, laughter threading through now, footsteps padding closer down the hall.

Both of you huffed out laughs before slowly leaning back after lingering a beat longer. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊ 

You slid into chairs at the small kitchen table, the scent of galbi and steamed rice thick in the air, steam curling up from the dishes your mom had set out with practised ease. Heeseung hovered awkwardly for a second, eyes darting between the spread and your mom bustling at the counter.

"Can I help with anything?" he asked. "Plates? Anything at all?"

Your mom waved him off with a warm laugh. "Sit, sit! You're a guest. Relax."

He sank down beside you, his knee brushing yours under the table. The wooden chair creaked under him, amplifying the sudden quiet. He was hyperaware of every sound, every movement you or your mom made, but he forced a small smile on his face, trying to look at least a bit relaxed.

Your mom didn't let the silence stretch. She slid into her seat across from you both, her focus landing straight on you. "You doing okay, sweetheart? You look tired."

You hummed, swirling your spoon through rice, your hand flicking side-to-side in a so-so wave. "I’m fine now. I had a pretty bad episode earlier today. I completely freaked out during the thunderstorm, but Heeseung got me home safely; luckily, he was on the campus.”

Your mom's gaze shifted to him then, warm gratitude lighting her face. "Thank you for that, Heeseung. I’m glad you were here for Y/N."

Heeseung's neck went hot, his fork stopped halfway to his mouth. "N-no problem. Really. Happy to–glad I could help." Smooth.

Really smooth. 

He winced internally, his ears burning as he stabbed at a piece of meat.

She nodded, satisfied, then turned back to you. "Honey, do you want me to call Dr. Kim and schedule an appointment? Just to talk it through?"

You shook your head firm. "No, thanks. I'll handle it myself if I need to. I promise. I know how."

She sighed but nodded, letting it drop. 

"I think I’ll need to vist her soon. Work is going to drive me crazy one day. One of our indie acts just landed a collaboration with that big group everyone's buzzing about. You know the one you’ve told me about," she gestured into your direction. “But we aren’t able to come up with a contract that all parties will agree with. It’s horrible, Dazed is so hard to work with. I can feel my hair turning gray, every time I walk into that office.”

Heeseung's head snapped up, eyes wide. "Wait, you work at a Dazed Labels?"

She grinned, popping kimchi in her mouth. "No, I am at A&R at Big Ocean Records. Been there eight years now."

"No way." He leaned forward. "I've been trying to get an internship there for three years in a row now. "

Your mom lit up, and launched onto a berate of questions about him and his music. Questions he gladly answered, if it mean that he now knew someone working at his dream label, even if you now knew his soundcloud id. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊ 

You and Heeseung were standing in the hallway after you had wrapped up eating dinner. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” you asked, watching him put on his still wet shoes. 

He hummed in agreement, before he straightened up again. “It wasn’t. Your mom is nice.”

“She is. And she loved you, Hee, I could tell.” Your grin softened, but you glanced at the clock on your phone, and our expression turned serious. "Speaking of... You should head home soon. Dad might be back any minute."

Heeseung's face fell immediately. “Oh, Lord help me.”

You giggled at that and shook your head. “I think no one can help you, not even the lord, if my dad catches you here.” 

He shook his head and stood there for a second, just watching you smile up at him, before you took a step forward, almost stumbling into him, as you pulled him into a hug, your arms looping tight around his neck despite the awkward brace. He melted into it instantly, hands settling carefully on your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"Thank you," you whispered into his collar. "For today. For everything."

He held on a beat longer than needed, breath warm against your hair. Then he tilted your chin up gently with one finger. 

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, your skin soft and warm under his lips. 

"Always," he murmured, lips brushing your skin. "Text me when you’re going to the rink tomorrow. I’ll come to the office."

Thank you so much for reading! Lots of Love, Patty

ᵎ!ᵎ PT3 ──── COMING SOON

⤷ ゛OTHER INSTALLMENTS OF THE SERIES ˎˊ˗

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It had been raining for days, thundering even, thick, dark clouds hanging above the skyscrapers of the city, blocking out any sunlight. 

You had been sitting in the front seat of your dad’s car, your legs tucked comfortably into the seat as he drove through the rain on what was supposed to be a regular, boring Saturday morning. You remembered the music, a song you had heard a million times already. You desperately wished to change the radio station, but didn’t dare to ask. You had fought with your dad in the morning, you couldn’t recall what it was about, you knew it was probably something stupid, something meaningless, but it was enough to dampen his mood, making the whole ride to the ice rink uncomfortably tense. 

You remembered the car coming to a stop at an intersection just a few streets away from the ice arena. 

You hated going past that intersection now.

There wasn’t even a single trace left of what happened that day. The traffic light had been changed, the tyre marks washed away after years of cars driving over the asphalt, and yet it left so many scars on you.

You remembered the horn that cut through the silence in the car. A loud, long, shrill sound.

Seconds later, time seemed to slow down. 

The impact was deafening.

You heard everything at once. Felt everything at once.

The high, tearing shriek of brakes. The heavy, hollow boom as metal slammed into metal.

The feeling of your head connecting with the window in a sharp, sickening thud, and the white, hot pain that would follow. It exploded through your body, radiating from your foot up into your chest, stealing the air from your lungs, leaving you gasping, choking on your own breath. 

For a moment afterwards, everything was silent. You knew it was never silent, but it was like you had dislodged all your senses for a few seconds before the world came rushing back in a torrent of pain and noise.

You remembered the rumble of thunder, the rain drumming harder on the crumpled roof, a sharp staccato against the twisted metal. For a few seconds, you were able to hear your dad over all of the noise, his voice full of panic.

“YN!” His voice sounded far away, buried under the ringing in your ears. “Stay with me, okay? Stay with me!”

You blinked. Your vision was blurry, your eyes stinging. You tried to move to rub your eyes, find a way to make it stop hurting. 

Another rumble came from overhead, thunder chasing the storm across the sky. It blended in with the sirens, with the echo of the truck’s impact replaying in your skull. 

Everything after that was gone. You couldn’t remember the ambulance coming in, the process of freeing you out of the wreck, the drive to the hospital, the surgeries, or the days in the ICU. 

The only thing you could remember from the weeks afterwards was the dull, never-ending pain. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

“-/N? Are you with me?”

A hand landed gently on your shoulder, startling you into ripping your open eyes, almost jolting upright. Your heart was hammering against your ribs until you recognised the white ceiling of the room in the rehabilitation centre. 

"Whoa, easy," Jihoon, the physiotherapist in charge of the EMS machines, chuckled.

The pads placed along your clave went silent, the current fading to nothing, leaving a faint prickling feeling. He peered at you over his glasses, that soft smile in place, that he always used when he knew you were exhausted.

You blinked hard, swallowing dryly while heat crept up your neck. "Sorry. I zoned out."

"Again?" He raised an eyebrow, peeling the electrodes off one by one, before attaching them to your thigh. His touch is brisk but kind, years of working making it almost automatic. "You’ve been stuck in your head a lot lately. Everything alright?"

You forced a laugh, nodding. "I am just dreaming of the day when I don’t have to come close to this building ever again." Your ankle throbbed without the distraction, a deep, insistent pull. Jihoon hummed. "I really love our sessions together, but for your sake, I am hoping the same."

"Thanks," you muttered, clenching your teeth when he started up the machine again. 

“Do you want me to let you sleep while you’re hooked up to the machine?” Jihoon asked, cleaning his hands from the gel he had used to attach the pads. 

You made a sound in agreement, not trusting your voice, while the little electrode pads hummed steadily against your skin. 

Tighten. 

Release. 

Tighten. 

Release. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

It was almost routine by now, the gruelling physio sessions and lymphatic drainages that were leaving dark bruises blooming across your skin, the agonising moment of having to get up and get home despite the exhaustion. 

Soobin's car idled close to the entrance, its hazard lights blinking.

Your brother leaned over to pop the passenger door as you approached, crutches clacking unevenly on the pavement. "Hey," he said, voice light, his eyes scanning your face. 

“Hi,” you eased into the seat with a wince, folding the crutches across your lap. 

You hated this, having to be chauffeured around like a helpless child. Having to wait for someone to get you home.

Soobin grabbed your bag and placed it on the back seat before turning back to you with a soft smile. "How was your day?"

"Hard. Tiring." The words came out flatter than you meant, edged with frustration you couldn't quite bury. 

Soobin caught the bite in your tone, glancing over as he merged into traffic. He was quiet for a second before he started talking again. "My media ethics class was a circus today. The professor had us debate whether deepfakes should be straight-up illegal or just watermarked to hell. This one guy, a total idiot, argued that those who have deepfakes created by whatever AI just had to tell people it wasn’t them. Sometimes I really wonder how those people got into Decelis. I thought it was supposed to be a top university.”

You nodded, half-listening to his rambling; his voice was a steady hum over the engine. When he killed the engine a few minutes later, you had to force your eyes open again, squinting against the bright light in the underground garage. 

Your brother glanced over, smirking as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “I see, you’re truly interested in my life, Y/N.”

You hummed, letting your eyelids close again. “I’ve paid attention. You told me something about deepfakes and laws and…yeah.” 

Soobin chuckled and got out of his seat, rounding the car. By the time you fumbled with the door, Soobin had already grabbed your crutches with one hand and slung his and your bag over his shoulder. "C'mon, Sleeping Beauty. Up you go."

You groaned, but obediently swung your legs out of the car, reaching for the crutches and heaving yourself upright with a huff. Your brother was waiting patiently, holding the car door open wide until you had made your way out of it. He led the way, propping doors open through the dim garage halls, up the elevator, and right to the apartment.

Soobin entered the hallway with a loud, “We are home!” 

Inside, it was cooler than the warm, humid August air. “Hello, you two," your mom's voice came from the kitchen, followed by her head appearing in the doorframe. ”Get changed and come eat.” 

“Hi mom,” you answered, giving her a tired smile. 

Soobin dropped your bag in your room, and you thanked him before letting yourself drop onto the bed with a huff. 

For a long moment, you stayed there, the only movement coming from your ribcage, slowly lifting and lowering with each breath you took. You crossed your arms over your head, your skin sticky from a faint sheen of sweat. “Y/N, aren’t you hungry?” Your father was standing in your doorframe, mustering your figure.

You slowly dropped one arm after the other, still staring ahead at the ceiling. The small glow-in-the-dark stars that Ryujin and Beomguy glued onto your ceiling during your first stay in the hospital were slowly peeling off, leaving holes in the constellations. “I’m tired, Dad.”

“You still need to eat Y/N. And I will not bring dinner to your bed, so come on,” his eyes were ranking over your figure, as you heaved yourself upright. “I can get your mom if you need help changing, and then you can join us.”

You hummed. “It’s fine. I’ll change later.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

“Heeseung!” the voice of his coach ripped Heeseung from his thoughts. “Do you have a minute?”

Heeseung came to a stop and turned around to face Coach Choi, standing near the bench, his clipboard tucked under his arm. 

His eyes darted from the older man to the entrance to the changing rooms. It has been nearly a week since the season started, and he couldn’t remember anyone doing anything that could have gotten him or anyone else in trouble. “Sure, Coach.”

A few strikes over the ice were enough to reach the boards before he stepped onto the rubber flooring. The Coach gestured for him to sit down. 

“Heeseung, my boy, I’ve been thinking about the team’s image,” the Coach began, his tone casual but deliberate.  

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “Image?”  

The Coach nodded, tucking the clipboard under his arm. “Yeah. You boys are doing great on the ice, and it’s a pity we don’t showcase that more on social media. I’ve had a meeting with the athletic department, and it has agreed that we need someone to handle not only your social media but also the figure skaters' social media. They want to have more exposure for the teams and for your students.”

He looked at Heeseung expectantly, and he nodded slowly, waiting for the older man to continue.

“Scouts, sponsors, even alumni donors, they pay attention to more than just your games. They want to see personalities, professionalism, something marketable for their teams.”  

Heeseung crossed his arms, leaning slightly against the boards. “I am aware, sir. But what does that have to do with me?”  The Coach hummed. “We’ve come to an agreement that we will build a social media team this semester. Students and professionals alike. We would like to give students a chance to get internships done and have someone who has an eye on the situation.”

Heeseung tilted his head, curious. “A PR manager?” He wasn’t aware that the team had the funds to hire a person to post a few pics of them on Instagram to appease the sponsors. He knew the swimming team had a PR-manager, a sweet girl being tasked with filming them while they swam and making them partake in ridiculous TikTok trends.

“Yes. I was thinking about asking my daughter for now, until we’ve officially built a team and publicised the applications,” the coach said, nodding, “I want to start posting as soon as possible, so that we already have a few followers when the games start.”

“Y/N?” Heeseung blinked, caught off guard.  

The Coach nodded, his expression softening slightly. “She knows hockey inside and out. And she’s good with this kind of stuff, social media, PR, that kind of thing. It’ll be good for her, and it’ll help the team.”  

Heeseung hesitated for a second. 

The coach’s expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his face, as he spoke up before Heeseung could answer. “She’s been looking for something to focus on, and this is a good opportunity for her. Plus, it’s not like she’s starting from scratch; she grew up around this sport.”  

Heeseung nodded slowly, uncertain what influence your prior knowledge of hockey had on you filming some cringe TikTok videos. “Okay. What do you need from me?”  

“I need you to help make this transition smooth,” Coach said, his tone firm. “She’s going to be around a lot, and I don’t want her feeling like she’s an outsider. Make sure the guys treat her with respect, and if she needs anything, you help her out.”  

Heeseung frowned slightly. “You’re not asking me to babysit her, right?”  

The coach let out a low chuckle. “No, she doesn’t need babysitting. But you’re the captain. It’s part of your job to make sure the team stays cohesive. She’s going to be part of the team.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

Heeseung was standing under the hot stream of the showers in the arena, washing away the layers of sweat that had collected on his skin during the last three hours of drills on the ice. The muscles in his back started to relax slowly under the heat. 

“Hee, do you wanna come over later? Yeonjun, Beomguy and I were thinking about inviting Tae and Kai as well. They are in Seoul today and tomorrow, and we want to get something to eat.” Soobin was rubbing his hair with a hot pink towel, standing in front of Heeseung's cabin, ripping him out of his thoughts. 

He nodded and hummed a ‘sure’ before stepping out of the cabin, reaching for his towel. 

“You tired?” Soobin asked, lifting one of his brows. 

Heeseung hummed again. “I haven’t slept much last night.”

“Oh, believe me. I’ve heard,” Soobin chuckled. “Gyu was screaming around until like 3 am. What did you play?”

“We played Catan online,” Heeseung shrugged. “Let’s say, we all united against him and used the robber well.” 

“Catan?” the older mustered him with an amused smile.

“I have no clue. Jeongin wanted to play,” Heeseung wrapped his towel around his lower half and stepped out of the showers, towards the locker room. 

He glanced at Soobin, who was still scrubbing at his hair with that ridiculous pink towel. Soobin insisted it was a lucky charm. 

"Hey," he said after a few beats, pulling a shirt over his head. "Your dad mentioned something about an internship? A PR intern for the team or whatever. He said his daughter might take it to catch up. He claimed Y/N needed something to ‘focus on’. Not gonna lie, he seemed pretty set on me babysitting her. Any idea what's up with that?"

Soobin's hands froze, and his towel dropped a fraction, a frown making its way on his face. „Y/N? Are you sure he said Y/N and not another name?“

Heeseung stopped adjusting his shirt and turned his gaze towards the older, nodding slowly. „He said ‚my daughter‘, and you only have one sister that I know of?“

Soobin closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath before continuing to towel his hair dry, now with a bit more force than necessary. „Whatever he is talking about, no. She would never do that. She isn’t supposed to do that.“

Heeseung blinked, his hands stilling as he reached for his pants. "Oh. Why that? He claimed that, you know, since she grew up around the sport, she'd be doing just fine?"

Soobin's expression darkened further, a flash of real upset crossing his face, shaking his head like he couldn't believe it. "She will absolutely say no. No chance."

Heeseung turned fully now, brows raised as he zipped up. “Why? She's not into it?"

Soobin exhaled sharply through his nose, as a mix of confusion, disappointment, and annoyance flickered across his face. He rubbed the back of his neck, pacing a single step before stopping,. "Into it? Man, she'll hate every second. Turn it down flat, no question. My dad has this obsession with dragging her back into the hockey world. He thinks being around the rink, the team, all that will 'motivate' her, get her excited about life again after everything. But it does the exact opposite. She shuts down hard. He just... doesn't get it."

Heeseung raised a brow, leaning against his locker as he grabbed socks from his bag. He knew of the accident, of the surgeries. Soobin never really talked much about it, about you, and Heeseung wasn’t one to ask. Soobin was touchy about the topic. "Opposite how? I mean, PR's not even on-ice stuff. She wouldn’t have to skate?"

Soobin hesitated longer this time before answering. "She just had her fifth surgery, Heeseung.” he was quiet for a second, pulling a white shirt out of his locker before he continued. “She loved hockey before the accident. She had a sharper wrist shot than most of the guys here. She’s on crutches or a wheelchair most days now. She barely watches my games anymore and avoids the rink unless she has to. I don’t think she would ever say yes to anything that has to do with hockey ever again."

Heeseung felt a twist in his gut. "The coach made it sound so straightforward."

"Yeah, he always does," Soobin muttered, disappointment heavy in the words as he slung his bag over his shoulder. "I know he thinks he's helping, but he’s just…clueless.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

You first heard them in pieces, muffled voices coming from the kitchen.

“…don’t you think you should have told me first before you ask Heeseung?” Soobin’s voice was low and tight.

It was uncommon for your brother and father to fight, even more so for Soobin to sound this pissed. You sat up quietly on the sofa, the blanket your mother had thrown over you, slipping down your shoulders. 

“I was going to,” your father answered in a clipped tone. “But the athletic department needed an answer. This internship is perfect for her. It gives her credits, a routine, something to focus on. She is not taking classes this semester.”

There was a pause before Soobin answered with a hiss. “Perfect for her?” he repeated, incredulous. “You mean the Y/N who hasn’t watched a full game since the accident? The one who hates everything that reminds her of the time before the crash with a passion? That Y/N?”

Your heart climbed up your throat, and as quietly as possible reached for your wheelchair, pulling it towards the sofa, so you could slide into the seat. The corridor light spilt in as you nudged the door open a little further, not wanting to interrupt them, but also wanting to know what they were discussing. They were standing in the narrow hallway just by the kitchen door.

“You’re exaggerating,” your father said, though his eyes flickered towards your mother, who was wordlessly watching the two. “She used to love the rink. Being around the team will do her good. Motivate her. She’s been doing nothing for months now, just physio and classes when she still had some. She needs a hobby, something that she actually enjoys.”

Soobin let out a short, humourless laugh. “A hobby? Dad, you’re talking about throwing her into a job in the loudest building on campus. You want her sitting behind the bench while thirty guys slam into the boards and pucks hit the glass. You think that’s going to magically fix things?”

“She doesn’t have to be behind the bench,” your father retorted. “She’d be in the office most of the time. Running social media, filming short videos, and organising content. She always liked making videos with her friends when she was younger.”

Your fingers curled around the cold metal of the wheels. What were the two talking about? An Internship?

“Meaningful for who?” Soobin fired back. “For her, or for you? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re trying to drag her back into your world whether she wants it or not.”

Your father straightens, shoulders squaring. 

“That’s not fair,” he said sharply. “I’m trying to help her. She’s twenty and stuck in her own head. I know how bad the recovery is going, I know that this surgery was the last try, Soobin, believe me, I know. But I can’t watch her sitting at home and rot, she has so much life to live. And maybe getting back into something she loved will help with that.“

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, forcing your heart to calm down. You hated it, you hated it so much, how they tried to decide over your life as if you weren’t there. ‚This isn’t good for you, Y/N‘. ‚Do this, and you’ll feel better, Y/N‘ 

“Maybe she wouldn’t feel stuck if people stopped treating her like a broken project,” Soobin snapped.“She’s allowed to want things that aren’t hockey. Not everything has to lead back to the rink.”

“And what does she want, then?” your father shot back. “She wants to drop her minor, barely talks about her major, and every time I ask about physio, she shuts down. At least this internship gives her structure. Colleagues. A reason to get out of bed that isn’t just rehab.”

“I can ask her,” Soobin said, stabbing a finger toward your room. “You could have asked her too, you know, instead of deciding for her and talking to Heeseung first.”

“He’s the captain,” your father snapped. “I needed to make sure he understood the situation. The team has to respect her.”

“And maybe your daughter should’ve been the first to know?” Soobin’s voice cracked on the last word. “She’s going to hate this. You know she will.”

“I know she needs something,” your father said stubbornly. “She always lit up around the rink. She used to film everything on that old camera, remember? Tournament vlogs, locker room interviews with you and the boys. Why is it wrong to try to give her that back?”

“Okay, that’s enough.”

Your own voice surprised you. Both of them turned at once.

You rolled into the hallway, having to crane your neck to look at them. “Can you two please stop yelling like I’m not here?”

Soobin’s expression softened immediately, guilt flashing across his face. “Y/N, we’re not–”

“You’re exactly what I think you are,” you cut in, looking from him to your father. “Arguing about my life as if I had nothing to decide here.”

Your father exhaled, some of the anger draining into a frown. “We didn’t want to upset you. I was going to talk to you after dinner. It’s just an internship, Y/N. Helping the hockey team with PR, filming a few videos, and taking pictures. It could be good for you.”

You stared up at him. “No.”

The word left your mouth before you even thought it through. 

His brows knit. “You haven’t even heard the details.”

“I don’t need the details,” you replied, heat rising behind your eyes. “If I could, I would never do anything with hockey again. Not as a player, not as a manager, not as a mascot, nothing. I don’t want to work for your team. I don’t want to sit in that rink, listening to sticks smack the ice and pucks hit the glass and pretend I wouldn’t die to be down there, to play.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Y/N–”

“And I’m so tired of you acting like forcing me back into that world is some kind of cure,” you pressed on, voice tightening. “I am healing. Slowly. Miserably. With more pain than you want to admit. You deciding I need a ‘hobby’ is not going to fix my leg.”

“You do need something,” he insisted. “You can’t just exist between physio appointments and your bed. This isn’t about hockey, it’s about your life. You need a reason to get up, a project. You always loved filming and editing; this combines what you’re good at with something that gives you real working experience. Why is that so terrible?”

“Because you’re not listening,” Soobin said sharply. “You’re not listening to what she wants, Dad. You’re listening to what you want. What you miss.”

„Stop it!“ you raised your voice, now almost louder than the two of them. „I get it! You’re worried about me, but I am the one deciding what I want and what’s good for me, okay! I already feel like shit with everything going on, you don’t have to make it worse!“ 

Your father’s shoulders sagged, and he was the first to break the silence that followed your outburst. When he spoke again, his tone was quieter. “You’re right. Both of you.”

He dragged a hand over his face, the years suddenly visible in the lines around his eyes. “I shouldn’t have talked to Heeseung before I talked to you. That was wrong. I still think this could help you, but… It’s your life. We can discuss it properly. Without yelling at each other like idiots.”

Soobin nodded, moving to stand beside you now. “Then maybe actually listen when she says no,” he said, but there is no heat in it anymore.

You exhaled slowly, tension leaking out of your shoulders. “We can talk,” you agreed, your voice tired. “Later. When we have all calmed down and had something to eat. You two tend to get hangry”

A corner of your father’s mouth twitched, reluctant. “Fair enough.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

You shuffled into the bathroom after dinner, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling that hadn’t disappeared since you interrupted your father and brother. There was a chair already set up in the shower, positioned under the handheld nozzle you’ve installed there after the last surgery. Your mom followed you, grabbing fresh towels from the linen closet. 

“Need help?” she asked softly, though she already knew the answer.

You nodded silently and let her help ease you onto the chair, after wrapping up your leg in a plastic bag. You sat hunched forward, one leg extended awkwardly, while she knelt on the bathmat with a loofah and body wash. Her hands were gentle, methodical, washing your back first, then your good leg, avoiding the cast with practised care.

You hated how all of this was routine already, how your mother had to sacrifice so much of her time for you, to care for you, when you should be able to do all of this by yourself.

The steam rose slowly, fogging the mirror, distorting your reflection until the only thing you saw was blurry silhouettes. 

“Honey,” your mother said after a while, watching you rinse soap off your shoulders. “Do you really think the internship is such a bad idea? Your father only means well. He worries about you. Maybe… maybe you would have some fun with it? Filming the boys and girls, making videos. You used to love that.”

You kept your eyes on the drain, watching suds spiral away. “I have friends, Mom. I do things.”

She pauses for a second. “I know you do. But you’ve refused visitors for weeks. You don’t leave the house except for rehab. You’re just… sleeping. All the time.”

“I’m tired,” you said, sharper than you meant. “That’s all.”

“I know you’re tired,” she murmured, taking the loofah from your hand and gently cleaning your injured side. “But I’m worried too, Y/N. You used to be so bubbly, so outgoing, you had so much fun. Now… It’s like you’re fading. And we all see it.”

Frustration bubbled up hot behind your eyes. “Because even three months ago, I still could have fun mom,” you burst out, water splattering as your hand clenches. “I knew this surgery wasn’t a good idea. It's stealing another nine months of my life again, Mom. And look at me now. I’m exhausted, my hip aches so bad from the bone graft that I can’t sit up alone some days. It’s not healing. You and Dad keep acting as if I just try harder, that with a hobby, an internship, whatever, it’ll magically get better. But it won’t. I’m stuck like this, and pretending otherwise just makes me angrier.”

Your mother’s hands stilled completely. She sat back on her heels, water dripping from the sponge onto the mat. Her eyes met yours, sad and searching. “We don’t know how to help,” she admitted quietly. “Your father pushes you because he’s scared. I… I miss my girl. The one who was always in a good mood, who always had a smile on her face. But I also know that we will never understand what you are feeling, Y/N.”

You swallowed hard, throat tight. “I miss her too.”

She reached out, cupping your cheek despite the spray of the water. “Then let us try. Not to fix you. Just… to be with you.”

You didn’t answer. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

The air wasn’t particularly cold where you were sitting in the bleachers. It had been three days since you had spoken properly to either your father or Soobin. You were hurt. It hurt, hearing them say that, them all somewhat agreeing that you were letting your life just go by without…living it. 

The worst part about everything was that they were right. You were just sitting around doing nothing, but what were you supposed to do? All you could do at the moment was go to rehab, spend your day with grandmas who have gotten new hips or knees, and have to hear how you were too young for your injuries. You did your best with the exercises, taking it easy, but you had the feeling that it wouldn’t be enough. 

You were watching a Sunghoon float across the ice. He was tall and slim, jumping around the ice as if it were nothing. Your dad had wanted you to start figure skating as well. He had enrolled you in a class, but you hated it. You weren’t elegant or willing to go through the grueling training to get flexible enough to actually do some of the elements; you wanted to play hockey, like your brother…like your father. 

The figure skater jumped, and his toe pick got stuck in the ice, causing him to stumble and fall onto his side. He stayed on the floor for a few seconds. His face was turned away from you, but you could imagine the frustration on his face. Sunghoon had fallen five or six times while doing this specific element already. 

Getting stuck over and over, having to repeat one step over and over. 

You knew that feeling, being stuck. 

But he got up every time, started his music anew and ran the program again and again and again. 

The door to the rink opened with a soft metallic groan. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw another tall person stepping inside. He was dressed in all black, baggy clothes, shaking out his hair. He stepped to the boards, watching Sunghoon gather his speed again and stumble into a jump he had landed with ease before. You recognised Heeseung even from afar. You had spent the last few days stalking the team, or well, teams on their social media accounts. 

Sunghoon made an annoyed sound and skated to the boards where his phone rested, and Heeseung stood. They talked for a bit, Heeseung looking amused, if not a bit worried. You couldn’t hear what they were talking about; the low hum of the rink was louder than their conversation. After a while, Sunghoon went back to his starting position, and for a moment, the hockey player just stood there, watching before his gaze drifted up, scanning the stands.

You straightened a little when it landed on you. You had met Heeseung a few times, at parties or when he came over while Soobin was still living at home. He was nice, polite. 

You lifted one hand in a small wave, trying to tug your mouth into something that could pass as a smile. He blinked, surprised for a fraction, then his features softened, and he waved back, lips curving. A moment later, he disappeared from view, heading out of the rink’s sightline.

You assumed he had gone to the locker room, but a couple of minutes later, you heard the faint echo of footsteps on the metal staircase. You turned your head and saw him coming up towards your row, duffel thumping lightly against his hip.

He didn’t say anything at first, just reached the top and crossed over to your row. He lowered himself onto the seat next to the one where your crutches lay, balanced awkwardly against the bench.

You blinked before turning your head to the ice again, watching Sunghoon skate. He hadn’t restarted his music, so the silence in the rink was only broken by the sharp sounds of blades scratching over the rough ice. 

You glanced to the side, where Heeseung was now leaning back into the seat. He had to fold his legs slightly, too tall for the tight space in between the rows. His gaze was focussed onto the ice, watching the figure skater. 

It felt awkward, the silence between the two of you. You averted your eyes and mustered the grey plastic of your cast, hoping for him to go back down again. This was supposed to be your escape. You wanted to be alone for a second. To not see anyone, to not talk to anyone. You didn’t know why you decided the rink was the best place to go. You hated coming here. 

You hated the rink. It reminded you of everything you had lost, of the future that would never be a possibility. But somehow, when you had finished your rehab earlier than planned today, and got into a taxi, you ended up coming here. 

“I’m Heeseung,” he said after a while, breaking the silence. His voice was calm, and his eyes were fixed ahead. “By the way.”

You huffed a breath that was almost a laugh. “I know who you are.”

He nodded once, accepting that, and silence settled again, thicker this time.

Sunghoon stumbled on the ice and fell hard onto his hip. You frowned at the sight. 

Heeseung spoke up again. “How long have you been here?” he asked quietly.

“A while,” you answered, shrugging one shoulder. “He’s been struggling with that sequence for… I don’t even know how long. It keeps tripping him up.”

Heeseung nodded, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. “He won’t care,” he said, like he’d seen this happen a hundred times already. “Sunghoon will stand up and do it again as many times as he needs to. He’s preparing for the Olympic qualifiers.” 

You hummed this time, watching as Sunghoon pushed off the ice again, hands on his hips, eyes narrowed in concentration. 

Of course, that was the right thing to do. 

When you were that talented, giving up was not an option. It never had been.

“Are you training for the Olympic team as well?” you asked after a beat, turning your head slightly towards Heeseung.

He let out a short laugh, glancing over at you. “No,” he said, amusement tugging at his mouth. “It’s hard enough being captain under your dad. I’ve already been drafted by a team. I want to play with them first, see where that goes. Maybe then I’ll think about the Olympics. If they even want me.”

You nodded, accepting that answer. You sat like that for a while, both of you watching the streaks of motion on the ice. Eventually, a dull ache started spreading up your calf, into your thigh. You shifted, carefully adjusting the position of your leg, trying to find a spot where the pull lessened.

“You alright?” Heeseung asked, his head turning a fraction towards you.

“Yeah,” you said, biting back a wince. “Just… aching muscles. My physiotherapist had me try a new exercise today.”

“Oh.” He nodded slowly. “That sounds good, though. That’s how healing works, right? At least that's what building up muscles is like. It hurts a bit?”

You let out an annoyed little huff, the corner of your mouth twitching. “Unfortunately,” you admitted. “It is.”

He smiled to himself, eyes drifting back to the ice, and you followed his gaze, both of you letting the quiet settle over you again, the sound of blades and distant music filling the spaces. 

“I can’t do the internship,” you said finally, the words tumbling out of nowhere, surprising even yourself.

He hummed low in his chest. “Yeah,” he replied. “Soobin told me already.” His gaze didn’t leave the ice. “It’s alright. I get it.”

Down below, Sunghoon went into the troublesome pass again. You watched his blade catch, just slightly off, and he went down hard on his hip this time. The music kept playing, while he got up slowly, his chest heaving.

"Do you need a ride home?" Heeseung asked after a while, breaking the silence , his voice casual, eyes still fixed on the ice.

You turned your head slightly, surprised by the offer. "Oh," you said, shaking your head. "No, thank you. I will take a taxi."

He let out a soft huff of laughter, the corner of his mouth lifting. "If Soobin knew you were here, and knew that I was, that we met, he would probably kill me if I let you take a taxi home." He nodded towards the ice where Sunghoon was gliding into position again. "So let me drive you. It would save us both some trouble. The men in your family are quite protective of you, in case you haven’t noticed."

You shook your head again, though a small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. "You just arrived. Do you not want to train or something?"

He hummed thoughtfully, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. Then he shook his head. "No. I will not get Sunghoon off the ice anytime soon."

"I am only here because I was feeling bored," he continued, as if it explained everything. "I wanted to procrastinate on one of my essays, and what better way than going to the ice instead of being stuck behind my desk?” 

You hummed. Sunghoon took off again, his blade catching just enough to make him stumble, and glanced back at Heeseung. He leaned back against the bench, taking your hum as an agreement, stretching his arms along the top row behind him.

"How is your rehab going?" he asked, his tone shifting to something gentler.

You exhaled slowly, nodding slightly. "I’m not sure. Worse than my doctor had anticipated? I don’t really know what to do with myself at the moment, if I am honest.” With a shrug, you turned to him. “This surgery was meant to restore the little mobility I had left and ease the scar tissue pain in my leg. But I am just more exhausted than before. The hip where they took the bone for the graft aches so badly on bad days that I cannot even sit up alone."

He winced visibly. "That sounds horrible."

"Yes," you agreed. "It is."

The silence returned, softer this time, with Sunghoon's music looping faintly in the background. After a moment, Heeseung spoke again. "Do not worry about the internship, by the way. I am sure they will find someone else."

"Yes," you said, nodding. "It does sound like fun, in a way. I am sure someone will love it."

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. "Would you not love it?"

You would. The thought stung because part of you really would love it if you gave it a chance. 

"I would," you admitted after a moment, your voice heavy. "But I would hate coming here every day. Seeing what I could have had."

He nodded slowly, understanding flickering in his expression. "Were you ever on the ice during the phases when you could walk?"

"No," you replied, averting your gaze from him to the ceiling, before closing your eyes. "I was too scared I would hurt myself even more."

He hummed. “Do you think you could try skating again? After you’re done with rehab, even if it isn’t completely healed. You would not have to be some crazy hockey player. Just skating. It could be nice, no?"

Sunghoon landed cleanly below. You watched the motion of his blades, the way he moved as the ice belonged to him, and felt that familiar ache. You would love to, you were almost desperate to. "Maybe," you said quietly. 

“You would have some pretty good coaches on your side, if you ever want to try,” Heeseung joked, and you huffed out a laugh. 

“I would, wouldn’t I?”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊ You were stuck in traffic almost as soon as you exited the rink's parking lot. Heeseung cursed under his breath, not letting go of the brakes fully, barely letting the car roll forward even after the light turned green for the second time. 

He was still in disbelief at what was happening right now. He had come to the rink to clear his head, maybe get some solo drills in. But he knew that there was no chance he would be able to get Sunghoon off the ice today, as soon as he stepped inside. His friend had been sick for days, and this was the first time since then that he had time to go over his routine, so he didn’t want to impose. He scanned the empty stands out of habit, than anything else. He was surprised to see someone actually sitting in there. You sat high up in the bleachers, crutches propped beside you, your expression distant as you watched Sunghoon glide across the ice. There was no particular cold in the air, but you looked small somehow, hunched into yourself, like the weight of something invisible was pressing down on you. Heeseung paused by the door, surprised at himself for even recognising you. He barely knew you beyond team events and Soobin's warnings to "be nice but don't get too close." For a second, he wondered if he was crazy. What was he supposed to do, walk up to his Coach's daughter and strike up a conversation? But you looked… miserable. Sad, even. And you seemed nice enough from the handful of times you'd exchanged words. He wasn’t a person who went up to others to just start up conversations; he was rather awkward most of the time with new people, but before he could talk himself out of it, his feet were already carrying him up the stairs. And now he was driving you home. 

Heeseung took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down enough to not start cursing out the poor drivers in front of him and noticed how you shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat next to him. He imagined the cast to be uncomfortable, especially now in the hot, humid summer. 

"Is it very bad?" his voice was gentle, when he broke the silence in the car for the first time, since you got in. 

"Just sore," you answered with a shrug, repeating your answer from before. He would have been fine with that as an answer, but you continued talking. "I swear my physio is trying to kill me. I know to rebuild muscle, I have to actually work on it, but he thinks of the worst exercises."

He huffed out a soft laugh at that. "Sounds like your dad. He claims that if we are not sore by the end of a gym session, we are pussies who haven't done enough." That made you smile, small but genuine. "Sounds like him, yeah."

A car honked behind you, and Heeseung sighed, resting his forehead briefly against the steering wheel, closing his eyes in resignation, before turning his head towards you. "I think we're going to be stuck here for a while."

You snorted and raised a brow. "You think?"

He ignored the remark and sat up properly again, trying to strike up an actual conversation this time. "Which year are you in?"

"Third," you answered. "You?"

"Same," he replied. "Well. Technically. I took an extra semester."

"Hockey?"

"Hockey," he confirmed.

The music from the speakers shifted quietly between R&B and pop. He kept his eyes on the traffic ahead. "So, what are you studying? Your major."

"Business administration," you replied, staring out at a couple walking their dog on the sidewalk next to Heeseung's car. "With a minor in media production."

"That fits," he nodded. "With the internship, I mean. PR stuff. Content creation."

You hummed in acknowledgement but did not say anything further, and Heeseung bit his lower lip, thinking he had fucked up by mentioning the internship again. He glanced at you, but you were still staring out of the passenger window. Great, seems like he did fuck it up. 

"What about you?" you asked after a long moment of silence, turning your head towards him. "Music production," he answered, almost relieved. "Sound engineering, mixing, that kind of thing." Your eyebrows lifted slightly, interest sparking. "Music production? Have you done anything like… professionally? Or just as a hobby?" He smiled faintly, tapping the steering wheel with the beat. "Right now, it is mostly me in my flat at three in the morning, trying to layer vocals over beats that sounded better in my head. My roommates have to suffer a bit with it.” 

"That sounds cool," you cocked your head a bit to the right. "Do you make whole songs? Or just remixes and stuff?"

"Both," he gave you a small smile, counting it as a win, that you seemed at least a bit interested. "I started with remixing songs I liked, speeding them up, adding drops, that kind of thing. Now I am trying to write originals. Lyrics are harder than the production, though."

You nodded thoughtfully. "What kind of music? Like… pop? Electronic?" "Bit of everything," he admitted. "Pop, hip-hop, some lo-fi. Depends on my mood. Lately, I have been messing around with ambient stuff."

"Have you put anything online?" you asked, leaning a little closer to the centre console now. "Like on SoundCloud or something?"

He felt his ears heat slightly; he usually didn’t talk much to strangers about his music. Most of the stuff he did write or produce was close to his heart, had a lot of meaning to him, or was the person to whom he gifted the songs. "A few tracks, yeah. "

You were smiling properly now, eyes bright. "What is your artist name?" He laughed softly, shaking his head. "You’re gonna have to try to figure that out by yourself, Y/N."

“Aw, Heeseung,” you pouted, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. “I thought we were friendly now. Why would you make me work for it?”

He raised an eyebrow. "Friendly?" "Are we not?" you said simply. "You came up to me while I was moping around, and you are driving me home now. In a weird way, you were able to even lift my mood a bit!"

Heeseung giggled at that, a real, full giggle breaking out of him, and he felt his ears reddening before he caught himself. “I am glad I could lift your mood, Y/N. But you’re not gonna get my user. You have to work for that.”

You huffed out a breath and pretended to be upset, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Unfair!” 

"What do you do in your free time, aside from now probably trying to figure out my Soundcloud handle?" Heeseung asked, his curiosity genuine as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. The traffic had finally started to ease up a little, but you were still crawling along at a snail's pace. You let out a small sigh, your gaze drifting back to the window. "Lately? I sleep a lot. I do not really do much aside from physio and sleeping at the moment. Maybe watch some Netflix if I have the energy." He nodded slowly, processing that. "And before? If you are in media production, you probably did a lot of video stuff, right?" Your smile returned, but it did not reach your eyes. "Yes, I did. A lot of video editing. It was actually a lot of fun. I used to vlog, make edits for friends, little projects for classes. I even had a small following on TikTok for a while." “Oh, what did you upload?” he tried to keep his tone light.

“Different things? Mainly edits of a few idols?”, you answered, sounding a bit embarrassed at that.

Heeseung nodded, smiling, amused at your reaction. “Like those thirst traps of them being half naked?”

“No!” you gasped and shook your head. “Definitely not that. Usually, it was just a few videos cut to a song I thought was cute with a few filters and stuff like that.”

Heeseung laughed at that, and you nodded, averting your face, but grinning.  

“Do you do anything aside from playing Hockey and cooking up some crazy beats that I am not allowed to hear?” You asked a few seconds later. 

He hummed and nodded, switching lanes before he answered. “Not much? I like to play video games. Do you know Beomgyu? We tend to play League a lot.”

That made you snort and shake your head. “Oh, believe me, I do know Gyu rather well. He claims gaming is helping his strategic thinking on the ice. I call it bullshit.” 

Heeseung chuckled, nodding along. "Fair enough. But you have to admit, his game sense is pretty good sometimes. Gyu reads plays two steps ahead, sets up those perfect give-and-gos like he sees the whole rink in his head."

You raised a brow, turning fully towards him now. "Dude, what the fuck? If he wasn't as good with his wrist shots, he wouldn't be any good on the ice at all."

Heeseung blinked, genuinely caught off guard. "His wrist shot?"

You shrugged, but your eyes lit up just a fraction. "Gyu's release is filthy. He hits the top shelf before goalies even track it. Without that, his 'strategy' wouldn't save him from anything."

He stared for a second, lowkey impressed. He had forgotten, not just that you were Coach's daughter, but that you had played yourself. "Damn," he said, grinning despite himself. "Spot on. How do you know all that?"

You huffed a small laugh, glancing out the window. "I catch highlights sometimes after you play. And yeah, Gyu's shot carries him." "He did a reel with his best shots of last season," he said carefully. "It got a few million views on his TikTok."

“I know,” you went quiet for a moment, your fingers tapping lightly against the armrest. “I cut the videos. I helped out with most of his videos when he was still actively posting.”

Heeseung hummed at that, not knowing what to say now. The playlist shifted to another soft pop track, filling the space. 

"I don't know," you finally admitted. "Part of me thinks it could be good. To do the internship, I mean. I think my dad is right, and I would love it. But coming to the rink every day… being surrounded by hockey again. It is hard."

"Why not try it?" he pressed gently. "Just for a bit. If you like it, great. If not, you quit. I will even play babysitter.” He huffed out his chest a bit and winked at you. “I’ll be rude to anyone who does not participate. Make sure everyone behaves."

You let out a small laugh, genuine this time. "Ohh the scary captain saving the poor social media girly in need? I don’t think you’re scary enough to get the others to film stupid TikTok trends."

He grinned, playing along. "Oh, I am terrifying. Ask the freshmen. They cry into their pillows every night."

You snorted, shaking your head. "Such a bad captain. The team must hate you."

"They worship me," he shot back, mock-serious. "Fear and respect. Perfect balance."

The laughter faded into a comfortable quiet, but he could see you thinking, turning the idea over in your head. "Just say the word. I will make sure everyone is on their best behaviour."

You smiled tiredly, but nodded. "Deal."

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊ Crazy. You had to be batshit crazy for what you were about to do. You had just finished brushing your teeth when your father shuffled into the bathroom, yawning wide as he reached for the cup where he kept his toothbrush. The morning light slanted through the frosted window, catching the tired lines around his eyes. Before he could even start his routine, you turned from the sink. "I'll do it," you burst out, watching his reflection in the mirror halt mid-motion. His hand froze over the cup, toothpaste tube half-squeezed in the other. He blinked, setting the tube down slowly. "Do what?" "The internship," you said, taking a deep breath that did nothing to steady the sudden hammering in your chest. "I'll try it. I'm not promising anything. If I hate it, I will quit. But I'll give it a shot." Your father straightened up, toothbrush forgotten entirely now. Shock flickered across his face, eyebrows shooting up, mouth parting slightly as if he thought he had misheard you. He turned fully to face you, leaning one hip against the counter. "Wait. You-you're serious? After everything you said the other night?"

You nodded, gripping the edge of the sink behind you. "Yes. I'm serious."

He stared at you for a long moment, processing, then a slow smile started to spread across his face, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made him look ten years younger. "Y/N, that's… that's great. Really great." He stepped closer, clapping a hand on your shoulder gently. "What changed your mind?"

You shrugged one shoulder, avoiding his gaze by focusing on the toothpaste flecks in the sink. "I do need something to do, no matter how hard it might be. You and Mom are right, sitting around all day… It's not helping. I think I need to really live my life again.”

The words tasted bitter, like admitting defeat, but they were true. 

He nodded eagerly, hand lingering on your shoulder a second too long. "Exactly. This is perfect for you. With your eye for video, knowing the game inside out, you could do hockey media afterwards. Analyst, journalist, or something in the industry. Build a real future around it. This is such a good opportunity for you! I am glad you’re finally seeing that aswell."

You froze, closing your eyes, while your heart slowed down for a second, before beating faster than before. Disappointment washed over you.  "Dad," you said, your voice tired. "I told you that I’m having a hard time doing literally anything and want to try to get my life started again, and you want me to already turn that stupid PR thing into a career? The last thing I am thinking about is building a future around something I would be close to but could never have."

He frowned, hand dropping. "What do you mean, can't? You’ve always loved–"

"No." You turned fully now, gripping the counter edge so your knuckles whitened. "Dad, how can you still not understand what I am saying? You’re right, I loved hockey. But I have to leave that in the past; I had to reinvent myself dad. I will never be the girl who lived and breathed hockey. I can’t even sit up without help for fucks sake!”

His expression softened into pity. You pressed your lips onto each other, turning away, trying to blink away your tears. "Y/N…I didn’t mean it like that. I always imagined that when you’re healthy again, you’d go back onto the ice, help me with the summer camps, and have fun joking around. You were such a talented player."

Tears pricked in your eyes. "So you still see me as a prodigy lost, got it."

Silence hung heavy between you. He stepped back, deflated. "I… thought the rink would help."

"You thought wrong,” you snapped. "This isn't about your dreams for me. I regret letting Heeseung talk me into this now. I’m such an idiot. How could I think you’d ever understand me?"

He exhaled slowly, rubbing his neck. "Y/N I was driving the car. I saw you almost die. You think seeing you not getting better is something I enjoy? I am trying to understand. But I actively lived my life after the crash, and I know you can too.”

You laughed; it was a hollow, pained sound. "Your surgeries were nothing compared to mine, Dad. You walked weeks later. I got crushed. Pinned. It’s been six years, those six years that are the most important ones. Hell, I was in the hospital on my eighteenth birthday, I can barely remember my sixteenth, I was too high on pain and anxiety meds! You don't get it." 

The bathroom felt too small suddenly, air thick between you. 

"Alright," he said finally, his voice quieter. "You're right. I got ahead of myself. I’m just… trying to help."

You swallowed hard, the fight draining as quickly as it came. "I know," you muttered. "But let me try this my way. Okay?"

He nodded, reluctant but genuine. "Okay. Your way."

You grabbed your crutches, brushing past him towards the door. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

Heeseung was lazily shooting a puck into the goal. He had actually finished his essay this morning and had handed it in as soon as Jake had read over it, wanting to get rid of the stupid document and never look at it ever again. He loved his major, and he did enjoy the lectures he had with that particular professor, but this essay stole away every ounce of motivation Heeseung had going into the summer break. If one could call it summer break. He had spent it training either by himself, with his younger brother or helping his older brother move and renovate. If Heeseung was honest, he didn’t catch much of a break. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement, and the heavy door to the rink opened. He didn’t see anyone in the doorframe. The door closed again.

Heeseung skated towards the boards opposite the door, when it opened again with more force than necessary, revealing you. You were sitting in a wheelchair and struggled to get over the threshold, getting caught on the door while it closed on you. 

“Y/N?”, he heard himself ask over the music coming from his headphones. 

You looked up and immediately back down, muttering something under your breath while pushing open the door again. 

“Hi, Heeseung,” you greeted him, giving him a tired smile, when you finally made it into the rink. “That door is heavy, Jesus Christ.” 

“I–,” he was at a loss for words for a second. The view of you in a wheelchair took him by surprise; you looked like you knew what you were doing, casually rolling closer to the boards. You were wearing oversized clothes, a shirt with the logo of a band you couldn’t recall and a pair of what looked like Soobin's basketball shorts, judging by the size. It made you seem small, almost fragile, in combination with the wheelchair. 

“Have I shocked you into silence with my fabulous wheelchair skills, oh scary captain?” you joked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He felt heat creep up his neck, and he coughed once in embarrassment before catching himself. “No. Sorry. I just…I just didn’t know you needed a wheelchair? I would have opened the door for you?” 

“Nah,” you waved dismissively. “It’s fine. As you see, no door is heavy enough to stop me and the immense levels of willpower I have when we’re talking about opening doors on my own.”

He chuckled and skated along the boards. The two of you were silent for a long moment; it wasn’t uncomfortable, rather the opposite of it. 

You were rolling into the direction of the opening to the rink, him doing the same, glicidng over the ice before jumping over the railing as soon as the thick plexiglass stopped. 

You came to a stop a few meters from him, watching him.

“I said yes,” you said, suddenly.

Heeseung looked up from where he was just putting on his bladeguards, leaning against the bench with his thigh. 

“To what?”, he blinked at you in confusion, his hand stilling. 

“The internship,” you hummed, not looking at him. “I kinda…fought with my dad a bit about it…But I agreed.” “You… said yes,” Heeseung repeated, just to make sure his ears weren’t lying. “That’s… good. I mean–” He cleared his throat, eyes dropping to his hands as heat crept up his neck. “–I’m happy for you. I guess?” You snorted softly, the sound cutting through the rink’s chill. “You guess?” He shrugged, feeling a little helpless under your gaze. “I don’t know. It sounded like a sore spot last time. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing and scare you off because I am an idiot, in case you really wanted to do it?” Your expression softened, just a fraction, as you let out a breath through your nose. “It is a sore spot. But you were right.” Heeseung hummed, rolling his shoulders to shake off the lingering surprise “Well…I’m  glad, then.” You rolled your eyes, but a hint of a smile ghosted your lips. “You’ll have to protect me, though. Make them take part. I’m not begging twenty overgrown kids to lip-sync for TikTok.” He laughed, the echo bouncing sharply off the empty boards. “Sure. I can do that. I’ll be the bad cop. Very scary captain, remember?” Or else. They probably won’t listen to him, but to the coach, who was your father, they definitely would.

“Oh, absolutely terrifying,” you deadpanned. “They’re all shaking in their skates.”

He grinned and shook his head, then his gaze dropped for a second to the chair again before flicking away. His fingers fiddled with the edge of his glove. He wanted to ask why you were suddenly not able to walk at all anymore. He knew you weren’t healing as fast or as well as you had wished, but having to use a wheelchair? “Can I… uh,” he started, then stopped, grimacing slightly. “This is going to sound stupid.”

You tilted your head, scrunching your nose and smiling, making him feel even worse. “It’s okay. Just ask.”

He scratched his neck, feeling his cheeks heat up again. “I just… didn’t know you were… using the chair now. You had crutches the last time. Is it… worse?”

You glanced down at your hands on the wheels, then back up at him. “Not really worse,” you said. “Just different bad. When the weather changes and the rain comes in, my leg and hip hurt more. The bones and scar tissue get… angry, I guess. Today, the wheelchair is just easier than forcing myself to hobble around.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, the tension in his shoulders easing a little. “Makes sense,” he said quietly. “Less strain.”

You nodded and pushed yourself a little closer to the gap in the boards, resting your forearms on the ledge. “I was just hoping to sit here for a bit,” you continued. “Be nostalgic. Watch Sunghoon or whoever might be training. Then, you know… eventually get my shit together.”

He followed your gaze to the empty rink, only a few stray pucks scattered over the surface. “If you want to watch properly,” he said after a moment, “there are disabled seats in the upper ranks. It’s not as high up as your seats last week…but you’d have a better view? I can take you up there later, if you’d like.”

You made a face, half amused, half resigned and he feared again that he might have said the wrong thing. “It’s fine,” you shrugged, sitting up again. “I’ll just give my commentary to your playing instead.”

He huffed out a laugh, honestly surprised at that answer. “Oh? You’re going to roast my shot selection?”

“Obviously,” you said. “Someone has to keep you humble, captain.”

His eyes lingered on your profile, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. 

Then you looked up at him expectantly, as if you were waiting for him to say something else. He shifted his weight, and cleared his throat. “Do you… want to see your office?” he asked. “Your dad told me that the room would be for the social media team. We started dumping some stuff there. I can show you.”

You hesitated, glancing once back at the ice, then at the hallway behind him. “Stuff?”

“A desk and a chair? The room has been used for storage for at least half a decade now, so it’s a bit stuffed.” He admitted. 

That made you smile. It was small but seemed genuine. “Yeah,” you said. “Okay. Show me.”

He nodded and moved to the side, grabbing your bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure if he should push you or leave you on your own, but decided to just let you do your thing. “I handed my essay in, by the way,” he explained, walking backwards a few steps as you rolled toward the staff door, leading towards the offices and media rooms of the rink. “I did finish most of it after I drove you home, actually.”

You snorted. “Well,  then I don’t have to feel bad about stealing your time in the rink.”

“You sure don’t, Y/N,” he held the door open this time, letting you wheel past into the corridor. The air was warmer here, laced with the familiar mix of sweat, detergent and faint rubber, even though the players rarely came here. Heeseung assumed the smell he had come to love and grow familiar with carried through the whole building. 

As you started down the hall together, your chair clicking softly over the uneven floor and his bladeguards thumping with every step, it was silent for a few seconds before you started talking again. 

“I didn’t know I’d get an office,” you hum, while Heeseung opened the door. It was rarely locked, it was in a locked part of the building and mainly used for clutter that is yet to be thrown away.

“I think they want to have a whole social media team? So think you’re not only getting an office but colleagues as well,” he opened the door and revealed the small room. It was lit by a small window, one side of it stuffed full with clutter, stacks of paper, scattered office supplies covered multiple surfaces, including an old wooden filing cabinet. A half-empty bookshelf leaned under the weight of folders, some piled haphazardly on top of one another. Boxes of miscellaneous items were stacked in a corner, threatening to topple. In one corner stood a seemingly clean desk that Heeseung and Yeonjun had cleared up a few days earlier. They had dumped everything that was on there onto the other side.

“I’m sorry, it’s still a mess. I honestly didn’t think you’d say yes, and then you know, your dad would have had to officially search for someone, and that would have given us a bit of time?” Heeseung leaned down and picked up two boxes to make space for your wheelchair. 

“Is my dad making you clean the room?” Your voice sounded annoyed, and he turned around. Your gaze was fixed on him, and he blinked again. “...No? Yes? What answer would you prefer?” 

You laughed teasingly and hit him with your healthy leg. “It’s not your fault if he made you. My dad is an asshole.” 

“He…can be?,” Heeseung said, nodding slowly. 

He knew Soobin wasn’t the closest with his dad, and apparently you weren’t either. 

“Hee, you don’t have to keep being so careful,” you giggle, and that confused me even more than using a nickname. “My dad is an ass, for the record. I still love him, but he can be annoying as fuck.”  

Heeseung laughed once and leaned against the desk in the room. “He…yeah…he is an asshole, especially if you don’t do what he wants to do.”

“And you know what I really like doing?” You stopped for a second, but answered your own question before he could even open his mouth. “To not do what he wants me to do. I think if he knew I was here instead of at home, he would scold the shit out of me.” 

Heeseung raised his eyebrows. “Really? Why?”

“Well, for starters, he gets really paranoid when I sit in the chair. I have no idea why, because usually people have even more pity with me and try to help me, but he hates it. And that I am here technically alone, cause I couldn’t know you’d be here, would get me scolded,” you shrugged and let your gaze wander across the room.

He mustered your face, let his eyes wander across your face, your hair, and the blue shirt. You were smiling; it was a small smile, but at least you were smiling. When he met you last week, you seemed so down, so frustrated; seeing you be so upbeat today made him smile as well. 

Your face snapped back at him. “What’s got you smiling like that, Captain? My dad possibly scolding me when I get home?”

“Ah-I-no-”, he stumbled, being caught staring at you the second time today. “I was just thinking about how you look a lot better than last week, even though you’re going to get scolded.”

“Oh, you just had the pleasure of meeting me in a bad mood. I promise I can be fun?”, you joked, shooting finger guns at him, causing him to laugh lowly again. “No, seriously. I just haven’t had the best time doing anything after the surgery; it’s been hard.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling a bit better than,” Heeseung grinned. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

You were sitting on the floor of Soobin's living room, your head resting against the side of Beomgyu's thigh. He was deeply immersed in a rather intense game of FIFA, his focus unbreakable as his thumbs flew over the controller. Yeonjun, Beomgyu, and your brother had decided to invite a few people over for a pre-semester get-together at their flat. When they said ‘a few people’ it really just meant the three of them, their girlfriends, and you. While Chaewon and Yunjin were in the kitchen reheating the pizza you had all ordered for dinner a few hours earlier, you had decided not to move an inch. Your eyelids felt heavier than they should have, especially after the unhealthy amount of Diet Coke you had consumed all evening long. So, you simply curled up closer against your friend's leg, letting his warmth seep into you.

Beomgyu huffed in annoyance when his team lost to whoever he was playing against online. A few seconds later, his hand landed gently in your hair, softly caressing your scalp. The motion only lulled you further toward sleep, your body growing heavier by the second.

"Hey, Y/N," Soobin's voice startled you, forcing your eyes open again. "Do you want to go to sleep?"

You took a deep breath and rubbed your eyes, ignoring the smudges of mascara from the excessive amount you had applied that morning. "No, I'm fine. Gyu is warm."

Beomgyu laughed loudly at that. "Damn right. You heard that, everyone? Y/N agrees that I'm hot!"

You reached up and slapped his calf playfully, while the boys made various sounds of disagreement and mock disgust. Beomgyu whined in protest, but he did lift your head slightly so he could look down at you properly. "It's fine if you want to sleep a bit. You can use literally any bed in the apartment. I'll even personally carry you to bed if you want."

You just shook your head and gave him a tired smile. Then you sat up a bit straighter, wincing as a sharp pain shot through your hip from the sudden movement.

"You're basically asleep, Y/N," Yeonjun said from the couch, pausing his own game to look at you with clear concern in his eyes. "Seriously, go crash in a bed."

Soobin nodded in agreement, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. "Use my bed"

"I'm not gonna sleep," you protested, though your voice came out weaker than you intended. "I’m fine. I’m just resting my eyes a bit."

Beomgyu paused his game with an exaggerated sigh, then shoved Yeonjun's leg off the coffee table and hip-checked Soobin just enough to claim more space on the sofa. "Scoot over, you losers. Make some room for her." The other two grumbled playfully but shifted aside, clearing a spot as he patted his lap insistently. "Come on, Y/N. Get up here and rest your eyes properly."

You laughed softly and let him tug you up without much resistance. You settled with your head properly in his lap as he sprawled back against the cushions. His hand found your hair again, fingers carding through the strands in gentle, rhythmic strokes. Your eyes fluttered shut almost immediately, the steady warmth and motion pulling you right back under. 

You were just on the edge of sleep when your brain snagged on something important. Your eyes cracked open again. "Oh, wait," you mumbled, your words slurring slightly with exhaustion. "I took Dad's internship offer."

Soobin froze mid-sip of his soda, his eyes widening over the rim of the can. "You did what?"

"I said yes," you clarified, shifting a little to peer up at their stunned faces. “On my terms and conditions tho. You’ll have to be nice to me and let me film you for some stupid Tiktoks or I’ll get dad involved.”

Your brother stared at you, his sodacan now slowly sinking into his lap. “Y/N did he make you say yes?” 

You let yourself sink back into Beomguys' lap, appreciating once more how muscular hockey player thighs were. You had spent many hours napping in various laps over the last few years. 

 "No, he didn't make me do it. I just…thought about it. I did like making those TikToks for Gyu last year, and I like the team. You’re fun. Plus, I'm only taking two classes this semester. Rehab ends soon, and I'll be bored out of my mind otherwise."

Somehow, you didn’t feel like telling your brother about how you met his captain, how talking with him for a mere two hours was enough to convince him. You still didn’t understand how or why, he didn’t even have to do any convincing, but somehow…somehow it was enough.

Soobin set his can down on the table with a sharp clink, his brow furrowing deeply. "Y/N, I don't know if that's such a good idea. You–"

"Yo, that's actually dope," Yeonjun cut in immediately, grinning wide as he leaned forward. "I’ll sort things out with the others if they refuse to film with you, don’t worry, Y/Nie."

Beomgyu nodded enthusiastically, his thumb still tracing lazy circles on your scalp. "Hell yeah, exactly. I told you it would be fun."

Soobin opened his mouth to argue further, clearly not convinced, but the kitchen door swung open right then. Chaewon and Yunjin came back balancing stacks of pizza boxes and plates, steam rising from the reheated slices. "Okay, what's going on? Why does Soobin look like he just bit into a sour apple?" Yunjin asked with a laugh, dumping her pile onto the coffee table.

"YN's doing the media internship for the hockey team," Yeonjun filled them in quickly, already reaching for a slice loaded with pepperoni. “And Soob isn’t the biggest fan.” 

Chaewon's face lit up with genuine excitement. She dropped straight into Soobin's lap like it was the most natural spot in the world, making herself comfortable. "No way, that's so cool! I’m sure the boys will love having to dance to weird TikTok sounds, just get them drunk, and your job’s gonna be easy." She winked at you over his shoulder. 

Soobin sighed deeply, his arms looping loosely around Chaewon's waist as she stole a bite from the slice he had just grabbed. 

"I guess it's cool, yeah," He trailed off with a half-grumble, relenting under her steady gaze.

Yunjin clapped her hands together sharply. "Anyway! Who's up for Mario Kart next? The loser has to grab the next round of drinks from the kitchen."

You nodded faintly in agreement, already sinking back into Beomgyu's lap as the chatter erupted around you once more. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

The locker room was warm and smelled faintly like perfume and deodorant. The figure skaters had just ended their training session when Heeseung came into the rink. He had watched for a few minutes before heading deeper into the building, his bag heavy across his back.

Some of the other players, mainly his roommates who had driven with him, were already changing when the sound of laughter came in through the doors. Beomgyu’s head appeared in the doorframe.

“Is everyone dressed?”

Heeseung glanced at his teammates, all in various states of undress, and shrugged. “Yeah? Mostly?”

“Perfect!” Beomgyu stepped fully into the room, followed by – you?

Heeseung’s brows shot up, and he had to stop himself from gawking.

You looked a little embarrassed, hovering awkwardly just behind Beomgyu’s shoulder. It was the first time he saw you in something that wasn’t athleisure or oversized clothes. Your hair was done, framing your face, and there was a bit of makeup on your skin that softened and sharpened you at the same time. It was a bit weird, seeing Soobin’s face on a female with makeup on, but it was pretty. You were pretty.

“This is Y/N, she is going to be our social media manager for this semester,” Beomgyu announced, gesturing into the room like he was presenting a prize. “This is our locker room. You’re not welcome in here unless you want to see dicks, Y/N. So don’t come in. This is Heeseung, our captain.”

You gave him a small, amused smile and waved, lifting your crutch slightly in greeting.

He smiled back at you. “Hi, Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you as well.”

He had to laugh a bit at how stiff and formal that sounded, while Beomgyu continued introducing the rest of the team that was standing around. Jake was holding his jersey against his naked chest, his face blooming red as he stuttered out his name. You glanced Heeseung’s way every so often, and he just shook his head in amusement.

“The coach will introduce her to the rest of the team later and, like, explain why we have a social media manager now,” Beomgyu continued, ignoring that the rest of his teammates were a bit taken by surprise at Soobin’s sister, their coach’s daughter, standing in the locker room. “Tell the others to stick by later. The coach asked me to tell you all.”

“Sure. I’ll text the rest,” Heeseung said, dusting imaginary dirt off his jersey pants. “Are you gonna show her the office? Have you finished cleaning it out?”

“Yeah, and not yet,” Beomgyu shook his head and jerked his chin toward the door. “You wanna come along, Hee? Show her around as the captain? I’m doing your job now.”

You laughed at that and boxed Beomgyu in the ribs with your elbow. “Let him be. You just pulled me into the men’s locker room, and now you want to make him show me around because you wanna change?”

Beomgyu shrugged. “You know your dad could have also just made your brother or Yeonjun hyung show you around? I didn’t choose this job. Let me graciously hand it over and get ready, woman.”

That made you giggle and roll your eyes, before shaking your head and looking at him fondly. The two of you seemed pretty close.

Heeseung’s legs and mouth worked faster than his brain. “I’ll show her around. I’m almost done anyway, Gyu.”

“Cool! Perfect!” Beomgyu seemed surprised but genuinely happy about that. “Have fun then!”

You rolled your eyes again when he patted your shoulder, but when you turned to Heeseung, there was a small, careful smile on your lips. “Lead the way then?”

“Sure.”

He crossed the room in three strides and opened the door for you, letting you step out first. Today, you were much faster and almost agile on your crutches compared to when you first met. The movement looked practised, a bit stiff around the hips, but confident.

“Thank you, oh dear scary captain,” you said once you had crossed the threshold.

He huffed out a quiet laugh and let the door fall shut behind him. “You really gonna keep that going?”

“Yes,” you replied without missing a beat. “You have a reputation to uphold, Lee Heeseung. I can’t ruin that by calling you nice.”

“Ouch,” he placed a hand over his heart dramatically. “So I open doors and volunteer tour guide services and still get slandered. Tough crowd.”

You smiled, the corners of your mouth twitching. “You’re recovering from it just fine.”

You walked side by side down the corridor, your crutches clicking on the slightly uneven floor.

He stopped in front of the small office door, pushing the handle down and nudging it open with his shoulder.

“Here we are, Miss Social Media Manager. Welcome back.”

You stepped inside, eyes sweeping across the room, letting out a little huff. “Wow. Still depressing.”

He leaned against the doorframe, watching your expression. “Hey, the desk barely wobbles now. That’s an upgrade.”

“I really need to bring some decoration or something,” you muttered, moving closer to the window and looking back at the desk. “Plants. Posters.”

Heeseung chuckled. “Just let me know what you need, and I’ll arrange everything as the big scary captain. One word from me and we’ll have fairy lights and a coffee machine in here.”

You turned halfway to look at him, one eyebrow raised. “Sure, Hee.”

The nickname slipped out so casually that it took him a second to register it. Something warm tugged at his chest before he could stop it. He really liked the way it sounded, simple and familiar, like you had known him a lot longer than you actually had.

“Do you think we could rearrange a bit?” you asked, turning around, a pout on your lips.

He pushed off the doorframe and walked over to the desk. “Sure. What do you want me to do?”

“Could you push the desk under the window?” you said. “I’d prefer some natural lighting while staring into a screen all day. Gotta work on my tan. I am sick of looking sick”

He snorted and grabbed one side of the desk, dragging it across the floor with a dull scrape. “I assure you, you’re looking a lot less sick today. It’s nice to know you are owning jeans.”

You laughed at that, the sound soft but real. “I sure do. I think I have at least two, you know, for some diversity”

Heeseung bit back a smile. 

As he adjusted the desk under the window, he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. The fondness in the way you had looked at Beomgyu earlier stuck with him. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was something going on there. The two of you were the same year, had clearly known each other for a long time, and with how close Soobin and Beomgyu had been since school, it would make sense.

He didn’t say anything, though. It wasn’t his business, and assumptions never helped anyone.

“There,” he said instead, giving the desk a small shove to straighten it. You moved forward and leaned your weight onto the edge, then gave it a small shake. It didn’t wobble. “Not bad, captain.”

“I do what I can,” he replied lightly, brushing his hands off as if he had just completed major construction work. “I’m sure we can get this room to look a bit more inviting in no time.”

“I sure hope so,” you said, looking around the room again. This time, your gaze lingered a bit longer, less unsure, more thoughtful. “It’s weird, but… I kinda feel stupid for doing this. My dad just nepoed me into this job. I am sure there are so many others who would have loved it and actually want a job in this industry later.”

He nodded once, understanding more than he knew how to say. “He did, yeah. But the edits you made for Gyu were really cool, and I feel like you’re just as qualified as anyone else that might have applied. If you don’t like it, you can always stop. You said you’d only do it on your terms.”

You glanced at him, and for a brief moment, there was something open and vulnerable in your eyes. “Yeah, my terms.”

He cleared his throat, stepping back toward the door. “I should get back to get changed, before your actually scary father scolds me later.”

“God forbid,” you said, lips twitching again. “Go protect yourself from getting scolded by my very scary father.”

He grinned, hand on the handle. “If you need anything, just come find me. Or, you know, call your big scary captain to move furniture.”

“Got it, Hee.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

A few hours later, you found yourself sitting in front of a flipchart, surrounded by notes and scribbles of ideas for content. Your research had turned up dozens of trends and challenges that could work for the hockey team’s social accounts, but your enthusiasm was running low. The chair you were sitting on felt like it was designed for maximum discomfort, and you were seriously considering bringing your wheelchair the next time. You sighed, shifting your weight in a futile attempt to find a more comfortable position. Just then, the door creaked open slightly, and Heeseung’s head popped in. “You surviving in here?” Without looking up, you muttered, “Barely. What do you need, Heeseung? Is my scary father done torturing you?” He chuckled and stepped fully into the room, leaning casually against the wall. “We’re done for the day, actually,” he said, flashing you a grin. “He asked me to get you, so he could introduce you to the rest?” You took a deep breath, resting your face in your palms, “Can I say no? I feel like doing that once a day should be enough.” “I fear you can’t,” he replied, chuckling, pushing himself off the wall and taking a step closer to the desk. “I will try to make sure you’re not seeing any half-naked men or dicks, and compared to Beomgyu, I will wait for a proper answer and not burst into the locker. I don’t want to scare you away when you just started. And potentially get killed by either Soobin or your dad.” You snorted despite yourself, leaning back and stretching your arms. “I don’t think any male creature will ever be safe from that, if I am completely honest, not even his star student. So you better take good care of me, but don't get too close!” He laughed and crossed the room to hand you your crutches. As he moved closer, you noticed a faint, fresh scent, like soap and something woody, maybe a hint of citrus. 

“Did you get any work done in here?” he waited patiently for you to pack your bag while holding out your crutches. You shrugged. “Tell me why some of you post random pictures of food with 20 filters slapped onto them.” “Ah, come on,” he said, leaning forward with a grin. “It’s not that bad. My Instagram is pretty and aesthetic!” “Something like that,” you muttered, unable to suppress a small smile, as you stood up slowly. “I found some trends and figured we could hop on a few of them. I’ve got ideas for locker room Q&As, pre-game routines, that kind of thing.” “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out then,” Heeseung said, nodding as he moved to grab your bag. “So, when do we start?” “We?” you scoffed, raising an eyebrow. He laughed, shaking his head. “Your dad made me responsible for everything you do and makes me babysit you, so yes, we.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes again, though it was becoming less from irritation and more out of habit. “Jesus Christ.” “At least I have all of my teeth. And we have some pretty faces on the team, that should help,” he teased.

꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

The air in the locker room was a thick haze of sweat, body spray, body wash and perfume. You scrunched your nose in disgust for a second before doing your best to even out your facial expression, when Heeseung pushed the door open. You hovered just behind him, your crutches digging into your arms, trying not to breathe too deeply as the full team turned to stare. Two dozen pairs of eyes locked on you and Heeseung from the benches and stalls. Your father was standing next to the door with a clipboard in his hands, while he nodded appreciatively at Heeseung and gave you something like a welcoming smile before he turned to the team. 

"Alright, listen up," he clapped his hands once, and the chatter in the room died. "This is Y/N. My daughter.” You pressed your lips onto each other in embarrassment while he continued talking.  “She's taking over social media for the semester, content, TikToks, Instagram, whatever gets eyes on us. You all participate when she asks. There will be no whining, no skipping. She is here to get you known by sponsors and teams, so cooperate, understood?"

Murmurs rippled through the team, a few nodded, and there were even a few agreeing grunts. You shifted your weight and searched for Soobin’s face, hoping for him to save you, but his face made it clear that he still did not like the idea of you being here. You blinked before forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. "Yeah. Hi, everyone. Um, nice to meet you all?"

They greeted you back by waving and nodding, while you turned back to your dad, waiting for him to say something else, but he just stood there in silence. 

You nodded, and your gaze flicked automatically to Heeseung, though. He was leaning against his stall near where you were still standing, arms crossed over his jersey, now giving you a small smile. 

A few seconds later, your father seemed to realise that you had nothing else to say and cleared his throat. "Alright, show's over. Until tomorrow, everyone."

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

Ryujin’s sofa was uncomfortable. It usually wasn’t. You’ve spent many hours here, watching movies or talking until deep into the night, but today the old, worn fabric rubbed at your skin wrong, the pillows were too hard and too soft all at once. You tried to adjust your position, but the only thing that happened was the pack of frozen peas that were resting on your ankle slowly sliding down your leg, causing you to shiver. 

The apartment was filled with the smell of bacon sizzling on the stovetop, where your friend was cooking dinner for the two of you. The food in the cafeteria didn’t seem too appetising, so the two of you decided to cook at her place. 

With a grunt, you sat up, reaching for the improvised ice pack. “I don’t understand how anyone can enjoy being massaged. All I get from a ‘massage’”, you made quotation marks in the air, “are bruises. My legs and my left ass cheek are going to be black and blue tomorrow."

"Nobody is seeing your legs or your ass, girl. Aside from your physiotherapist, who might add some new bruises," Ryujin shot back, stirring the pan with a wooden spoon. The warm, buttery smell mingled with the salty scent of bacon, making your stomach growl in anticipation.

“Unless you want to show someone else your ass?” she wiggled her eyebrows playfully.

"Not really. Who would want to see my blue and black scarred arse unprompted? Do you want to see? I'll undress just for you," you grinned at her, letting the frozen peas drop unceremoniously to the floor before reaching for your crutches. 

Ryujin rolled her eyes, laughing as she scooped the cooked pasta into the pan. "I love you, and I have seen plenty of your naked ass already, but I don't need you to erotically strip for me, Y/N. You're not really my type, I'm sorry."

You sat down on one of the chairs around her kitchen table, the plastic groaning, when you adjusted yourself. "You wound me, Ryujin!" You clutched your chest in mock offence. 

"Ha ha! I'm sure we can find someone who would like to see your ass. There are plenty of guys on campus that are horny 24/7," she shot back, glancing over her shoulder as she added a sprinkle of cheese to the mix.

“Yeah, number one problem: my brother is also at that campus and knows everyone and would scold me for doing that. He and his big brother complex,” you sighed and rolled your eyes, before resting your chin in your hands. “I feel like it’s gotten worse since I’ve started working with the team.”

“Really?” She stepped over and handed you one of the forks she and Lia were borrowing from the cafeteria. “Why do you feel like that?” “I–”, you groaned and shrugged. “I can’t even pinpoint single events, but he hates it. I think he really hates that I am there. Not in a he-wants-hockey-to-be-his kind of way, more like he is afraid it would…I don’t know, trigger me?”

Ryujin plated the carbonara, sliding one over to you before settling on the chair opposite yours with her own bowl. Steam curled up between you as she twirled pasta onto her fork. “Does it?”

You poked at the noodles, thinking of what to say. You weren’t good with feelings or talking about your feelings. .  

After a long moment of silence, you hummed and nodded slowly before answering. “Both?” You leaned down and took a bite of your noodles while Ryujin waited for you to continue, chewing slowly.

“I think he is afraid that I’ll go back and hide in my shell when I realise that all of the dreams I once had are dangling in front of my feet, but are so unattainable?” You swallowed, the sauce leaving a creamy film in your mouth. "Don't get me wrong, that can happen. I’ve done my best to try to not interact with the women's team, but Soobin should just let me do my thing, let me live my life. Maybe my dad is right, and I just need to finally come to terms with what my life is now and have to, you know, still have fun? They both do their best in trying to tell me what I am supposed to do, which is annoying, but at least they care, I guess.” 

You took another bite, the noodles flicking a bit of sauce on your face.

Ryujin hummed. "Have you told him that?"

You nodded once, slow, the tangle easing a hair. “I did. I’m just not sure if he understood.” 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

The air in your office was stuffy and warm, the open window doing little to let in some fresh air. The sun was still relentlessly blazing down, even two weeks into September, and you were suffering from the heat. 

To help with the airflow, you had opened the door to your office, had pulled a chair into the doorway with more effort than necessary, your wheelchair getting in the way. Your mom had taken you shopping for the office a few days ago, after she had visited your office for the first time, so now there were a few plants and a floor lamp standing around. It wasn’t much, but it was something at least. 

You were sitting with your healthy leg pulled to your chest, and the injured one stretched onto the desk, mindlessly scrolling through TikTok, for the better part of an hour now. You actually had a few videos to cut, but the heat made you feel lazy and lethargic. 

You could hear the shrill sound of your dad blowing his whistle, and your eyes searched the small clock that was hanging on the office door. 

4.15. 

You hummed to yourself and turned your attention back to the reel looping for the third time now. A few minutes later, you could hear the door to the hallway open, the sound of laughter echoing along the walls. Yeonjun's head appeared in your doorframe, grinning at you. His hair was flat and damp from sweat, and his face was still red from the on-ice session. “Hello, my dearest Y/N!” Behind him, Soobin and Beomgyu strolled in, just as sweaty, looking completely worn out. Beomgyu flopped dramatically into your office chair. “Yeah, sure, come in and just take over my whole workspace while you’re all stinky and sweaty”, you teased, though you didn’t mind the company. Beomgyu groaned, stretching his legs out. “This break isn’t long enough. Your father is killing us. I swear I’m going to die.” Soobin rolled his eyes, perched on the edge of your desk, while Yeonjun leaned against the wall. “You’ll survive. We’ve had worse drills.” Yeonjun smirked. “Speak for yourself. I’m not built for this much cardio.” You laughed. “Maybe you’re just really out of shape because you spend the biggest part of your summer break eating anything you find?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I was just bulking up, Y/N. Just you wait and see!” 

“Man, that’s such a lame excuse,” Beomguy groaned and laughed at Yeonjun. “Just admit, you let yourself be fed fat by your charming girlfriend who is madly talented in the kitchen.” “Can’t confirm or deny!” Yeonjun shrugged, and Beomguy rolled his eyes at that, smiling. 

You turned to your brother. “Can I help you with something?”

He nodded and scratched the back of his head. “I was wondering if it was okay for you to go home with Heeseung? I have a study group later, and Dad has a meeting after training. He offered to take you home?” You blinked at him, your brain needing a second to catch up.

“Heeseung?” you repeated slowly. “Driving me home?”

Soobin nodded, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “Yeah. He’s going that way anyway and said it’s no problem.”

That was… new. Your brother was many things, but usually, if it involved you and getting you from A to B, he shoved the responsibility onto Beomgyu or Yeonjun without thinking. They were the default options, the built-in safety net. The idea of Heeseung offering, and Soobin being cool about it, caught you off guard.

“Wow,” you said, half-teasing, half-genuinely stunned. “You’re cool with that?”

Soobin studied you for a moment, eyes scanning your face. “Yeah,” he said finally. “Heeseung’s not an idiot. He’ll get you home in one piece. And I really can’t miss that study session.”

There was something in his tone that made your chest squeeze; it was as if he was reluctant, but trusting. You swallowed and nodded once. “Alright. Sure. I’ll go with him.”

“Cool,” Soobin said, as that settled it. “We gotta get back. Dad wants us in the gym in–” he glanced at the clock on your door, “–five minutes.”

“Yay,” Yeonjun groaned, peeling himself off the wall.

Beomgyu pushed up from your chair with a dramatic sigh. “If I die, Y/N, post a really hot memorial slideshow for me, okay?”

“I’ll only use pictures where you blink,” you replied sweetly.

“Monster,” he muttered, but there was a grin tugging at his mouth.

Soobin leaned in as the other two started bickering their way toward the door. He bent down and pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head, the gesture so familiar and careless it almost made your throat close up.

“Text me when you’re home, okay?” he said quietly.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “Yes, Mom.”

He snorted and straightened. “Brat.”

You watched him walk out with the others, sweaty and tired and already complaining about gym sets, and for a second, the irritation and tension of the last days dulled. You still loved him. Of course you did. Even when he was hovering and moody and weird about the internship. He was still your brother.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

Heeseung was tying the shoelaces of his sneakers; the rink was silent, almost eerily so. He sighed, reached for his bag and ruffled his hair. It was still damp from his shower and fell into his eyes, sticking to his forehead.  He pushed them back with the heel of his hand and stepped out into the hallway.

The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead as he walked past the locker room, past the gym, the familiar path toward your office tugging at his feet more than any conscious decision. 

Your door was propped open, and the air coming from inside was warm and heavy. He paused in the doorway and leaned his shoulder against the frame.

You were in your wheelchair, curled into a strange, half-comfortable position. Your injured leg was stretched out onto the desk, while your healthy leg was bent, heel hooked against the wheel. Your laptop sat in your lap, fingers flying over the keyboard as you typed something with determined focus, bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

Heeseung took in the scene for a second, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “You know that looks mildly unsafe, right?”

You startled, fingers pausing mid-word as your head snapped up. For a heartbeat, you just stared at him, then you let out a breathy huff. “Jesus, Hee. Do you make it a habit to sneak up on people?”

He pushed off the doorframe and stepped inside, smile widening. “The door was open. I think that’s technically an invitation.”

“Yeah, well,” you muttered, shifting your leg a bit on the desk with a wince, “maybe the invitation didn’t extend to commentary on my sitting positions.”

He glanced pointedly at the way you were half-twisted in the chair. “Are you at least comfortable like that?”

You rolled your eyes and let your head fall back against the chair for a moment. “As comfortable as a person can be when only one side works properly, I guess. Don’t discriminate against my wheelchair pose, Lee Heeseung.”

That made him laugh, the sound soft and genuine. “Right. I’ll work on that. I’m sure the media team would gladly give us another of those PR sessions. Are you ready to go?”

You snorted, then closed your laptop halfway, the screen dimming. “Yeah, I am sorry that Soobin makes you drive me home.”

He shook his head and gave you a small smile. “It’s fine. I offered to drive you.”

You hummed at that, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thank you. Can you give me my bag?”

“Sure!” Heeseung pushed himself away from the doorway, crossing the small room, until he was next to your desk, leaning down to grab your bag. It was surprisingly heavy when he lifted it up and handed it to you.

His eyes drifted across your working space. It looked a lot better than a few weeks ago; plants and decorations gave the still cluttered room at least a bit of character.  He picked up one of the tiny figurines you had placed on your desk and turned it over in his hand with a grin. “What’s with these little guys? A personal touch?” You gave him a mock glare, clearly more amused than offended. “They’re called Sonny angels, and yes, this office was depressing. I needed to liven it up.” Heeseung laughed softly, putting the figurine back down carefully. “Why would you bring naked angles?” You rolled your eyes again. “Don’t make fun of my babies. They are cute, and that one was a gift, so leave it be.” Heeseung laughed, setting the figure down gently. “Okay, okay”, he sat down on the edge of your desk, “Have you had a productive day? You’ve been here for like six hours now” You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “I was trying to finish up all of the videos I want to post next week, but it’s taking longer than I thought.” Heeseung glanced over at the cluttered desk, noting the piles of papers and sticky notes you were using. “And you couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” “Nope. I like torturing myself,” you said dryly, then raised an eyebrow as he continued to toy with one of the angels. “Are you done judging my office decor now?” Heeseung twirled the figurine in his fingers, then squinted at it. “I mean, I’ve got questions. First off, what’s up with this one?” He held up a small yellow angel wearing a dinosaur costume. “Did you really choose this? Not gonna lie its kinda ugly. And why is the other one naked?” You groaned, rolling your eyes. “No! I wanted the pink dinosaur one, but kept getting the yellow one instead. Three times! So, this is what I’m stuck with. And honestly, I am not sure, but they are cute.” Heeseung laughed, genuinely amused by the annoyance in your voice. “Are they figurines from lucky boxes?” 

“Yeah, but I don’t seem to have luck with them,” you replied with a deadpan expression. “I have one in my room, one in my car, and now this sad thing is stuck here, reminding me of my failure every day.” Heeseung chuckled. “Well, pink dinosaur or not, it does help make this place less depressing.” You just laughed at that. He watched you for a moment, noticing how your shoulders were slightly hunched. His gaze dropped to the wheelchair you were sitting in. “You know,” he said, looking around the room. “This office still feels so crammed and uninviting. You need a couch or something.” You raised an eyebrow. “A couch?” He grinned, nodding. “Actually, Yeonjun and I were thinking about it even before you had the office. We need to get Coach to clear out the junk on the other side of the room so we can move in a couch. You’d have a nice place to chill while pretending to work.” You laughed, shaking your head. “And by ‘chill,’ you mean take naps, right?” “Exactly.” 

You glanced at your leg, then back at him. “Can you grab my bag? And maybe, if you’re feeling extra heroic, help me get this thing off the desk without me dislocating something? My foot is…asleep.”

Heeseung moved without complaint. He set your bag on the back of your chair, then stepped to the side of the desk, hands hovering near your ankle. “Tell me what you need.”

“Just… support under the heel? It feels weird when it’s lower than my hip for too long.” Your voice softened a bit, more matter-of-fact than apologetic.

He slid one hand carefully under your heel and the other under your calf, lifting slowly until the tension in your face eased. “Like this?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, shoulders dropping. “Like that. Thanks.”

He guided your leg down until it rested back on the footrest, making sure you were steady before letting go. “There. No dislocations on my watch.”

You gave him a small, crooked smirk. “Guess I’ll keep you on the payroll, then.”

He stepped behind your chair and wrapped his fingers lightly around the handles. “Ready to go home?”

You glanced once around the office, then you nodded. “Yeah. Let’s get out of the sauna before I melt onto the floor.”

He chuckled and eased the chair out of the doorway, careful of the threshold. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊ 

Heeseung's bedroom was dark except for the blue glow of his phone screen, the only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioner. He had dropped you off almost an hour ago. The drive had been quiet, comfortable in the way that didn't need filling, your wheelchair folded neatly in his trunk. He had pushed you inside without asking, just because the path from the car to the entrance of the apartment complex you were living in had those stupid uneven steps. His thumb hovered over the screen, mind circling back to the way you had stretched your leg across the desk in your office. The faint wince when you shifted. The fact that you were using your wheelchair most days. 

It must be horrible. 

He didn’t dare to ask either you or Soobin about what happened. 

He knew that you were involved in a car accident and needed multiple surgeries afterwards, but your dad sat in the same car, right? Why was his coach so… healthy compared to you?

He sat up a bit, bunching his pillows under his elbows in the process and typed your full name into Naver. The first entry on the results page was to a junior hockey league profile. He clicked onto the link, and a profile pic loaded first: you at maybe 16 or 17, wearing the same colours as he was at that time. You played for the Hyundai Juniors. He scrolled past your picture, and his breath caught. Your stats from before the accident were still listed on the page, your last five games ever played. Apparently, you were a top scorer in your division and had an impressive number of assists. A few clips were added to the gallery at the bottom of the page, and he couldn’t stop himself from clicking on them. You moved like lightning in them, sharp edges, explosive starts, a cocky grin flashing after breakaways. Damn. Impressed didn't cover it. 

You were good.

Really good.

He returned to the Google results page and clicked on the next link, ‘Junior League Star Y/N Lights Up Regionals–Scouts Take Notice’. 

He read the article and the next one and the next one. You truly were a star player in the female league. You could've had a career, scholarships, maybe Europe, hell, even NCAA if you had pushed academics. Instead…

He swallowed before continuing this thought. Instead, you were now sitting in a wheelchair, unable to walk without crutches. Heeseung's jaw tightened, thumb pausing on a crash article thumbnail, the rain-slick road, mangled car, your name in the survivor column.

He tossed the phone screen-down onto the nightstand, harder than intended. 

It was awful, all of this was awful. He understood why you didn’t want to do the internship, why you were so hesitant. And he had more or less talked you into it. To being stuck editing other people's glory while yours rusted away. Heeseung felt nauseous.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

Your class had dragged on endlessly today. The two hours of marketing lecture blurred into white noise, your hip throbbing sharper with every shitty shift in the lecture hall seat. 

You had planned to meet up with some of the ice hockey players and figure skaters to film challenges with them later, and the thought of working on your essay for said lecture in the library, sitting in one of the uncomfortable seats, was worse than anything else you could imagine right now.  By the time you crutched across campus to the rink, the universe felt like it had a personal grudge. 

You pushed through the players' entrance and beelined for the sofa tucked in the corner of your newly cleaned-out office. The players had spent one gym session cleaning out the room from all the clutter, in exchange for not having to work out on that day. Now you were the proud owner of a new sofa, a clean shelf, where your decoration and a few hockey books were now lying, and a floor lamp. Your bag hit the floor with a thud, crutches clattering beside it as you collapsed onto the cushions with a loud groan. Pain pulsed like fire up your leg, every nerve screaming, even when you hoisted it up on the armrest.

"Fuck this," you hissed to the empty room and sat up again. You fished for your bag and searched for your painkiller; you had taken one barely an hour ago, but you didn’t care. The blister pack rattled slightly when you finally found it and popped one of the pills out. You swallowed it without water and leaned back down into the sofa.

You still had around an hour or so until the others would come in, so maybe you could try napping a bit and letting the painkillers do their thing. Your body sank into cushions, and you tried falling asleep. But even trying to blacken out the light in the room by crossing your arms over your eyes doesn’t seem to help you fall asleep. 

Frustration burned hot up your throat, and you snatched your phone instead, opening TikTok; maybe mindlessly scrolling would help a bit. A few minutes in, you realised that you were logged into the rink's account, figure skaters and ice hockey players popping up nonstop. You took a deep breath, but continued scrolling. Your thumb hovered over the screen, the TikTok looping again and again, but you couldn’t get yourself to swipe it away. Jeon Somi was holding up the Lee cup, surrounded by her teammates, her face 

split wide in a grin mid-celebration. She was wearing a pro club jersey gleaming under the arena lights, the women's league logo stamped bold at the front. It was an edit; someone had edited her shooting goals, giving assists, and celebrating.

Your heart dropped.

You used to play together, to match, to dream of the same dream. 

Tears stung your eyes, and the screen blurred, before you tossed your phone to the floor, not caring if the screen cracked or not. 

You pressed heels of your hands into your eyes, grinding hard till white sparks bloomed behind your lids. You knew there was no use in being sad about it, of being jealous. But you were so, so jealous. She was living her dream, the life you had dreamed of, the life you could have had, but was so unattainable now. Life was unfair, it had always been, will always be to everyone. You knew it was, and you knew you had to get used to how it was now. You were used to it, but you hated it. So so much.

A sob broke through your lips, and you pressed your hands across your mouth, trying to stop yourself from making any sounds.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

A familiar male voice, low, careful, said your name like he didn't want to startle you. "Y/N?"

You cracked one eye open. It felt heavy and swollen. You sighed and closed them again. 

There was a chuckle before your name was said again. You grumbled something garbled and tried to roll away, shoving your face deeper into the cushions. The fabric was rough under your face, and you cursed your father for picking out a cord sofa. The movement sent a sharp pain down your hip, your leg had tangled upwards, the cast hooked heavily over the armrest like a dead weight. You cursed and opened your eyes again, only to notice that you didn’t imagine Heeseung's voice. He was kneeling right in front of the sofa on the scuffed lounge floor, elbows braced on his knees. He gave you a small smile, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

Heat flooded your face, and you yanked your arms up quickly, crossing them over your face like a shield, your elbows digging into the sofa. "Go 'way," you muttered, muffled thick against your sleeves. God, why him? Why now?

You must look like a mess. Your eyes were swollen, your hair probably a mess.

"Do you want to go home?" he asked. His voice was steady and even, like asking about the weather. Even if he noticed the state you were in, there was no pity in his voice.

The "M'fine," you answered with, came out moody even to your own ears, the lie sour on your tongue. Your head felt foggy from the painkillers that weren't kicking in yet, and every sound in the small room, the humming from the AC, the sounds from the rink, the ticking coming from the old clock, everything was too loud. 

"Mhm. Sure, you are." Amusement threaded through his words, light and teasing. 

You risked peeking one eye out from under your arm, squinting at him. Damp strands fell over his forehead, and your phone dangled loose in one hand. "Don't you have training or something?"

He shook his head. "Not for another two hours. You'd be stuck here at least five, waiting for your dad or Soobin to drive you home."

A groan ripped out of you, pure, raw annoyance bubbling inside of you. 

"I can drive you home if you want," he offered, straight and simple, like it was nothing. He straightened up a little but didn't rise fully, keeping himself at eye level. "It’s no big deal."

Pride warred hard in your chest, you wanted to say no, you didn't need pity, not your brothers, not your friends and especially not Heeseungs. You hated that he saw you this way, how broken you were. You sat up and had to close your eyes when you were seated upright, to make your head stop spinning. Maybe you should go home. No, you should definitely go home.  

"Yeah. Okay," you swallowed, your voice small. There was a beat of silence. "I’m just…not having a good day. My painkillers aren’t working. I might be a bit slow."

"That’s no problem," he said immediately, without hesitation. He pushed to his feet smoothly then, but instead of heading for the door, he just... dropped cross-legged onto the floor right there. “You should wake up properly before we go outside. I’ll text the others that we aren’t going to film today.”

You bit your lips and closed your eyes, suppressing a groan. You had forgotten about that. 

Heeseung leant back against the sofa arm, close enough you could smell the citrusy perfume he liked to use. 

“I’m gonna tell them I am feeling unwell,” Heeseung added, while he already started typing something into his phone.

You nodded and leaned back into the cushions, resting your cheek against your knee, staring at Heeseung's hair. It was still styled, the stands lying in a way that made it seem as if he hadn’t put much thought into it, but the way it barely moved with the movements of his hair made it clear that he had spent some time on it today. You rarely got to see him like that, in his street clothes, with his hair looking like this, you got the sweaty, tired Heeseung. Not that you were complaining, you still didn’t understand why you got any Heeseung at all, why he would care, come to your office, check on you as often as he did. Why did he offer to drive you home, even though he would have to come back to the rink?

He had been quiet for a while, back resting against the arm of the sofa, thumb scrolling half-heartedly over his phone. 

When you shifted and swallowed down another groan, he spoke again. “I’m not leaving you here if you’re not feeling well, Y/N. Don’t even think about asking me to go somewhere else.”

You stared up at the ceiling for a beat, jaw tightening. Of course, he would say that. Of course, he had been… kind. It scratched at something raw in your chest, that familiar mix of gratitude and rage, like your body couldn’t decide which way to flinch.

“I don’t want your pity,” you snapped before you could stop yourself, the words out sharp and ugly. They hung between you, heavy. You winced at your own tone, but it was too late.

Heeseung’s brows pulled together. He didn’t look offended, just surprised at your sudden outburst. “It’s not pity,” he said quietly. “If I pitied you, I’d have walked away a long time ago. I like being around you.”

You swallowed, throat tight. Heat crawled up your neck. You turned your head toward him, meeting his eyes. They were soft, steady, no pity in sight. They just had that same quiet determination you’d seen at practice, the one he got before stepping into a faceoff.

“I just…” Your voice thinned. “People feel bad, and then they hover, and I don’t… need that.”

He held your gaze, shoulders loosening a little. “Okay,” he said. “Then don’t call it pity.”

“What am I supposed to call it, then?” you muttered, more tired than angry now.

He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged one shoulder, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. “I’m your friend,” he said simply. “And your friend’s not going to leave you here when you’re in pain and can’t even roll over without cursing out the universe.”

Your chest squeezed at that, tears stinging your eyes again, and you averted your gaze, hoping for your eyes to stop watering. “You’re really bad at minding your own business, you know that?” you whispered.

He huffed out a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Comes with the captain thing, I guess.”

You let your eyes fall closed again, but nodded. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

Heeseung's fingers tapped a restless rhythm against the steering wheel, the windshield wipers sweeping steady, rhythmic arcs across the glass. Rain hammered relentlessly against the car roof, turning the world outside into a smeared watercolour of streetlights and glistening asphalt. You were slumped deep in the passenger seat, your crutches jammed awkwardly between your knees. Neither of you had said much since you had sat down, music filling the space. He had no intention of starting up another conversation, waiting for you to talk, if you wanted to. 

You crossed your arms over your chest, your gaze fixed on the downpour sheeting down the window. The silence between you wasn't uncomfortable; he had grown familiar with it over these past weeks, but he could feel the tension radiating off you, shoulders stiff, fingers picking absently at the seam of your jeans.

He wanted to ask. To ask how you were doing. Why you had been crying. What had happened today. His heart broke a bit when he saw you asleep on the sofa. Your eyes were puffy as if you had cried. Your face pulled into a frown even in your sleep. 

His chest tightened at the thought. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what he was supposed to say, so he stayed silent. 

You broke the quiet first, voice cutting soft through the rain. "Do you know if it's supposed to thunder tonight?"

Heeseung glanced over quickly, then returned his eyes to the road, his hands flexing on the wheel. "No idea. Probably?"

You fell silent again for a long moment, watching the rain streak the glass. "I hate thunder," you muttered finally, the words almost lost under the drumming downpour.

He nodded, keeping his tone even. "I get that. Rain's not my favourite either."

You huffed a small sound, not quite a laugh. "Rain is okay, actually. Thunder just... reminds me of the accident."

Oh. 

Heeseung's grip tightened on the wheel, knuckles paling slightly. He didn’t know what to say before, but now even less. He wasn’t good with words, has never been. He wetted his lips before nodding once. “Did it rain that day?”

He glanced at you, trying his best not to do it too obviously, but even if he had, you were staring out the passenger window. 

You took a slow, shaky breath.

"It had been raining for days,” you paused and dropped your hands to your lap. “Dad was driving me to my last game of the junior league season." A dark chuckle escaped you, "I was the second hockey prodigy in the family, you know? His whole pride and joy. I was the star player, top scorer, scouts circling like vultures. We were just a few streets from the rink when it happened. The other driver hydroplaned. He t-boned into our passenger side. The metal of the car crumpled together as if it were paper, and glass exploded everywhere. Thunder cracked at the exact same second as the crash. Everything blended together for me, screeching tyres, folding steel, that boom shaking my whole world."

You stopped there, staring at your hands. Heeseung kept quiet, he was a bit surprised at the outburst, of you telling him all this, but maybe you just needed to talk about it, and he would gladly be there for you.

"I don't remember much after that," you continued, voice dropping monotone. "I woke up five days later in a coma. My right side was completely shattered. My hip took the worst of it; the dashboard basically shoved straight through it. My ankle was mangled too. My femur snapped clean, nerves shredded everywhere. The Docs said I was lucky to keep my leg. It’s a miracle that I can use it at all, that I am alive."

Heeseung swallowed hard, the horror sinking slowly and cold into his gut. He kept his eyes on the road. His stomach twisted awfully, pity rising despite himself. He knew you hated it, so he did his best not to show it. 

Your voice stayed flat through the medical rundown, but he caught the faint shake when you wiped your eyes quickly with your hoodie sleeve. "That's why loud sounds hit me so hard. Sticks cracking. Pucks slamming boards. Whistles piercing. You know loud sounds. It got better with years of therapy, but bad days still send me spiraling and I just hate thunder,” you sniffled. Heeseung risked a glance at you; your face was still turned toward the window, and tears glistened on your lashes. He wanted to reach out for your hand, for your face. He hated seeing you cry. 

You laughed dryly and wiped over your face once again. 

"Your dad," Heeseung surprised himself by speaking up. "Wasn’t he in the car as well? Why is he, you know…"

You shrugged before finally turning to look at him straight. "His injuries were a joke next to mine. He healed within weeks, and then he was back on the bench. He walked everything off like it was nothing."

Heeseung didn't know what to say. "I'm glad you survived," he managed a few seconds later, his voice rough and low. 

You took a long breath. "I wished for a long time that I didn't." Then you groaned, pressing palms to your face. "Oh man, sorry for trauma dumping. What the fuck. This never happens to me."

He shook his head fast, pulling to a red light, turning fully. "It’s fine, Y/N. Trauma dump whenever you need to. I’m not really good with feelings and stuff, but I’ll do my best."

Rain blurred everything outside. You held his gaze a beat, your eyes teary, and he had to stop himself from reaching over, stopping them from dropping. The streetlight changed to green, and he had to break eye contact before he could act on any of his intrusive thoughts. 

You exhaled slowly, wiping your sleeve across your eyes one last time, the rain still drumming steadily on the roof. "Anyway," you said, noticeably forcing your voice lighter, turning your head to look at him properly. "Why were you at the rink so early today? You were half an hour ahead, even if we were filming."

Heeseung blinked, caught off-guard for a split second. Truth to be told, he had shown up early on purpose. He had wanted to see you. He had wanted an excuse to see you alone, to talk with you, hang out with you just for a bit. He liked being around you. The drives home had become a highlight these past few weeks. Talking about nothing, not talking at all, sitting there in comfortable silence, he enjoyed your presence. 

He scrambled quickly. "I wanted to nap on the sofa. Watch a bit of this new series I've been into."

You tilted your head, curiosity flickering through the remnants of tears. "Oh? What are you watching?"

He racked his brain, landing on the first thing that popped up. "Gyeongseong Creature. A new season dropped a few weeks ago. Jeongin has been hyping it nonstop." 

Your eyes lit up a fraction, a weak smile tugging at your mouth despite the redness around them, and Heseung mentally thanked his friend for being so annoying about the show. "Oh, I love that show! How far in are you?"

Heeseung shrugged. "The second or third episode?"

"Really?" You raised an eyebrow, shifting a little in your seat. "You like it so far?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding as the light ahead turned green. "It's good. Weird as hell, but pulls you in."

"That's great," you replied, the smile holding a bit longer now. Then quieter, almost sheepish, you added. "I can barely watch a full episode, though. I get too scared and have to pause."

He grinned, seizing the opening to tease you a bit. "You get scared? Do you have to hide behind that pillow you told me about?"

You rolled your eyes, but a laugh bubbled out of your mouth. "Shut up. They're terrifying. Those demons ripping people apart? No thanks. Not even my squishmello could save me."

He chuckled, warmth spreading in his chest at the sound. He loved this part. Making you smile. Stealing the heaviness away, even just for a drive. "I'll protect you from the TV demons," he promised, mock-serious. 

"Very heroic," you shot back, but your voice softened. "If that ever actually happened, though, I'd really need someone to protect me. I wouldn't be able to run."

Heeseung glanced over, still grinning. "Oh. Well, I need to do some more leg days then. So I can carry you around all the time."

You protested immediately, eyebrows shooting up. "Hey! I'm not that heavy!"

"Yes, but the water and supplies we need?" He raised one eyebrow. 

You paused, then huffed a laugh. "Okay, yeah. True."

The rain eased a little outside, wipers slowing their rhythm. You settled deeper into the seat, the atmosphere warm now. "What would you do in a real zombie apocalypse anyway?"

Heeseung thought for a second, merging onto a quieter street. "I'd grab my youngest brother, Jungwon, and my closest friends, mainly Jake, Jay and Sunghoon. Maybe their girlfriends as well, l if they had any. We would get out of the city fast, head somewhere rural with supplies."

You nodded, a small smile playing. "Mhm. Yeah, that's probably clever. Do you have any actual survival skills?"

"My video games taught me plenty," he said, nodding earnestly. “I just need to acquire unbreakable joints so I can jump around like a maniac and a gun. Or multiple. And a crash course on how to use a gun. 

You sniffed, but the laugh came again, brighter this time. He loved hearing it, loved pulling that lightness back into your voice. 

Heeseung glanced over at you, the rain still pattering steadily against the windows, the wipers sweeping their familiar rhythm. The conversation felt easy now, lighter than it had any right to be after what you'd just shared, and he wanted to keep it there. "What about you?" he asked. "What's your zombie apocalypse plan?"

You let out a small, dry laugh, shifting in your seat to face him a little more. "I have no survival skills. I'd probably just end things before I could turn into one of them."

He raised an eyebrow, keeping his tone light but curious. "You think that's a good idea?"

"Yeah," you said, shrugging one shoulder. "Better than turning and eating Soobin or something."

Heeseung laughed, the sound filling the car with warmth. "Man, Soobin wouldn't let anything touch you."

You groaned in fake annoyance, rolling your eyes dramatically, but a smile tugged at your lips. "True. It's kinda his duty as the big brother."

He grinned, turning onto your street now, the headlights cutting through the wet dark. "Protecting siblings from zombies?"

"Yeah," you replied, your voice softening with affection. "You'd do that for Jungwon, too, right?"

Heeseung nodded without hesitation. "Yeah. I'd burn the earth down for him if I had to."

You huffed another laugh, genuine this time. "Yeah, so don’t you dare judge him. He might be overprotective, but it’s in his DNA. Just look at our dad."

Heeseung shook his head, still chuckling as he slowed to pull into your parents' driveway. "My god, your dad is a scary man. I don’t want to cross him in a zombie apocalypse.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊

The front door clicked shut behind you with a familiar solid thunk. You took off your shoe by the entryway, stopping there for a second. 

You were tired, so tired. 

It wasn’t even five pm yet, and yet you felt like it was at least eleven. 

You sighed and made your way down the hallway, past the door to your room. Each step sent a fresh jolt of pain up your leg. Your mom stood at the sink, rinsing dishes with slow, methodical swipes of the sponge, the radio humming low in the background with some old pop tune half-buried under the running water when you reached the kitchen. She turned at the heavy thud of your bag hitting the floor, her smile starting automatically and warm, only to freeze solid on her face when she caught sight of you. You couldn’t stop yourself, couldn’t stop the tears from coming.

"Y/N? Honey, what's wrong?" Her voice came out soft but sharp with worry, the plate in her hands dripping forgotten into the sink.

The question cracked something deep inside you wide open. You crossed the kitchen tiles in three shaky, uneven strides, your crutches clattering abandoned to the floor as you crashed straight into her. You buried your face into the soft fabric of the sweater she was wearing as the first sob tore out of you. It was a raw and ugly sound, your whole body heaving against hers with the force of it. Her soapy hands hesitated for just a beat in surprise, wet palms hovering, then wrapped tight around your back, pulling you in closer as she steadied the two of you against the counter.  Your tears soaked through the fabric in seconds, your chest hollowing out with ragged gasp for air. "It's not fair," you choked out, your voice breaking wet and jagged against her collarbone. "Why can't I just be healthy like everyone else? I want to play hockey. I want to skate for real, feel the ice under my blades again,” another sob interrupted you, “I want to go to school without counting every single step, without the pain chasing me down. I want to travel, see games, visit friends, live, instead I'm stuck in this endless fucking loop. Nothing works. It's just surgeries. Over and over, and I'm so done."

The words spilt out frantic and unfiltered, grief twisting sharply into rage and then dissolving back into despair. Your mom started slowly rocking you back and forth, one hand stroking steady passes down your hair like she had when you were little and woke from nightmares. You wished you could wake up from this one as well. But there was nothing to wake up from; you were awake. 

Suddenly, the closeness, the touches, felt too much. You pulled back abruptly from her arms, pressing the heels of your hands hard into your eyes instead as you sank down against the cabinets. Fresh tears leaked through your fingers anyway. 

Your mom didn't let go or back away. She knelt right down there on the cold kitchen tile with you, her knees popping softly in the quiet, arms looping loose but firm around your shoulders from the side. "Shh, baby. I've got you," she murmured just once, her voice thick and cracked at the edges with her own helpless ache, but after that she stayed mostly silent. She always said you had to let the storm rage itself out without interruption when you were a child. She was always there, a coming presence, but she knew that sometimes crying was the only option, before going on. 

Eventually, it did. The storm in your head ebbed, your sobs fading into hiccuping breaths that left you hollowed and spent. You sagged heavily against her side, your face damp and swollen. 

Your mom's thumbs came up to brush the last few tears from your cheeks as best she could, her own eyes shining wet. You knew she was suffering, maybe not as much as you, but she always worried. You hated worrying her with this. She should be worried about you partying, about you doing dumb things, and instead, she had to worry that you couldn't stop. Triggered by one single stupid TikTok. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's get you washed up and into bed."

She helped you to your feet slowly and carefully, handing back one crutch and then the other with a steadying arm under your elbow as you limped together down the short hall to the bathroom. The sink faucet ran warm over your hands; she squeezed a swirl of toothpaste onto your brush without a word, waiting patiently while you scrubbed your face and teeth in mechanical motions, staring at your puffy, wrecked reflection in the fogging mirror. "What happened today, sweetheart?" she asked quietly from the doorframe, leaning there with her arms crossed loosely.

You spat into the sink, rinsed your mouth with a slosh of water, and gripped the porcelain edge until your knuckles went white. "Everything," you rasped out, finally meeting her eyes in the mirror's reflection. "I saw a video of Somi winning the Lee cup. She is playing for Samsung. She deserves to…but,” you sniffle before continuing. “I should be there too, Mom. But instead, my hip has been hurting so much that no painkiller is strong enough to make it stop. Heeseung had to drive me home because I just napped it off in the office like a total wreck."

Your mom nodded slowly, her expression soft but steady. She grabbed a clean towel from the rack, stepping close to pat your face dry with gentle dabs. "I know, baby. God, I know." Her arm slipped around your waist then, pulling you into a hug, as if she had to soothe herself. “I wish you were there, too. So much, Y/N.”

You sniffled and rested your head on her shoulder again, before pulling back. “I think I’m gonna sleep now.”

She nodded and followed you into your bedroom.

It was dark outside when you woke up a few hours later, your face still tender and swollen from crying. 

You fumbled for your phone with one hand, wanting to know what time it was when it vibrated. The buzzer sounded against the wood of your nightstand.  You fumbled for it with one hand, the screen's glare harsh against your tired eyes, when you found it. 

Lee Heeseung (Male Hockey Team): Hey Training just wrapped! Are you feeling any better now that you're home?

Your thumb hovered over the keyboard for a long moment. 

Part of you wanted to lie, tell him that you were feeling better, but the words wouldn't form. You didn’t want to lie to him. 

Y/N No But it's alright I will be Thank you for driving me home. It helped a bit. I hope the others didn’t give you any grief for not filming today.

You hit send before you could overthink it, then let the phone rest loose in your palm. Dots danced on the screen almost immediately, pulling your gaze back.

Lee Heeseung (Male Hockey Team): Don't worry about it, no one is mad Get some rest

You stared up at the ceiling tiles, their bland white blanks blurring slightly in the low light. ‘I like being around you.’ Heeseung's face flashed in front of your inner eye again, the way his hair was styled today, his easy smile when you'd first woken up grumpy. The way he was there, getting you to open up, by just being himself. You didn’t understand why, but you knew one thing, and that was for sure: You liked being around him as well.

Thank you so much for reading! Lots of Love, Patty

CONTINUE READING PART TWO ⤷ ゛OTHER INSTALLMENTS OF THE SERIES ˎˊ˗

PERMANENT TAGLIST ⋮ @enhastolemyheart @dreamiestay @elairah @vviolynn @engenemilia  @xylatox @firstclassjaylee @mangoescrazy @ddolleri @goldenmellow @en-boyz @bananasrme @classicroyalty @stars4kooo @evilangel404 @angelhyuka @heeseungiess @minjsui @andieekosmos @enhaverse713586 @dearestdreamies @rizz00 @aquitkuro @vixialuvs @typewonnie @enhapagluuuuu @kristynaaah @libby0705

“Hi, I’m Sunghoon.” Sunghoon set the magazine down on your sofa table. “I’m your new roommate. I don’t know if Mister Kang told you that I am moving in today instead of on the first. I had a more or less spontaneous change of plans.” 

No. 

No, Mr Kang did not. 

You opened your mouth before closing it, willing your face into a small, tight smile. 

“Hi,” your voice was pitched a notch too high, and you cringed. “I am Y/N. Are you sure you are in the right apartment? I mean, considering you probably got the keys from Mr Kang, yes, but he didn’t tell me anything about a roommate? I know Apartment 4B is a free room?” 

Sunghoon scrunched his eyebrows. “This is Apartment 4D, right? I definitely signed a contract for the smaller room in Apartment 4D.”

“Oh,” you just said and blinked at him.

The smaller room in your apartment had been rented out for as long as you lived here. Not by you, but by some mystery girl that seemed to have no interest in living in this apartment. Mister Kang didn’t care if the other girl came or not, as long as the rent was paid on time, and told you you were free to use the room until she did indeed show up. 

So that is what you did. 

You transformed the small room into your studio. 

And you knew for a fact that the desk and the floor were a cluttered mess at the moment. 

Heat shot up your neck at the realisation.

“I–uhm–I didn't know you were moving in at all. I’ve been using the room as my studio. Just give me like an hour, and I’ll move all of my stuff into my room,” you sighed, already feeling a headache coming. Sunghoon raised an eyebrow at your words, then glanced toward the hallway leading to his supposed new room. "You’ve been using it as a studio?"

You nodded, running a hand through your hair. "Yeah. I mean, it’s been empty since I moved in. Not technically empty? Someone rented it out, but she never came, and Mr Kang said I could use the room if my supposed roommate didn’t want it. So I just… took over? I’ll be really fast, so you can start putting all your stuff in there."

Sunghoon’s lips quirked up in amusement, arms crossing over his broad chest. "So, I’m kicking you out of your studio?"

"Technically, yes. But it’s not your fault. Mr Kang just kind of forgot to tell me you were coming? At all? So I didn’t know I had to clean it out." 

He nodded, glancing back toward the hallway before looking at you again. "Well, if you need help moving your stuff, I don’t mind."

You shook your head, taking off your jacket, unceremoniously dropping it onto the sofa. "No, it’s fine. It’s mostly styrofoam, pens and sketches. It's fine."

Sunghoon shrugged. "Alright. Just let me know if you change your mind." 

He moved toward the sofa, lifting a box and putting it onto the floor before flopping down on the green fabric. “Are you a design student?”

“Oh. No. I study architecture.” You shook your head and made your way through the maze of boxes and furniture in your living room towards the hallway that separated your room and now apparently Sunghoon's room. 

“Oh, that's cool. I am in PE,” he grinned at you.

You just nodded again, not in the mood to talk with anyone right now, even less with the mysterious girl, well, boy, you now had to live together with. "Ah. That's nice. Just… make yourself at home while I clean, I guess?"

Sunghoon grinned. "Will do, roommate."

The word made you wince.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

You stood in the doorway of your studio, well, Sunghoon’s room, mentally preparing yourself for the hour of cleaning ahead. The small space was overflowing with architectural sketches, blueprint rolls, rulers, model pieces, and textbooks.

This was… embarrassing.

You usually were a really organised person, but with work and your deadline coming up, you just didn’t have the time and energy to clean up behind you. The last few weeks had been horrible; you were chasing one deadline after another, had worked endlessly on your projects and studied at the same time. Sleep was a luxury and cleaning was the last thing on your mind. The only thing you religiously did every day was cook. 

With a tired nod, you started moving, piling all of the cut-up styrofoam and paper into a trash bin, carrying unused styrofoam into your room and getting a broom from the kitchen. 

After around half an hour, Sunghoon slightly knocked on the doorframe to his room, startling you from where you were sorting through your sketches and designs. 

“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” he asked, walking into the room, doing his best not to step on anything. 

You swallowed, ignoring the crawling feeling under your skin while he looked around with a curious look on his face.

“No, it's fine,” you mumbled, tiredly smiling at him. “I usually am a really clean person. It’s just…exam season.” 

Your head was aching, a slow pressure building behind your eyes, and you were hungry. You just wanted to eat something and roll up in your bed, but you weren’t about to make Sunghoon help you clean his room when it should have been clean from the get-go. 

He let out a soft chuckle. “Mhm. No worries. If it’s just your space that you use for creative chaos, I don’t have any problem with that.”

You pressed your lips onto each other and gave him a small nod before turning back to the stacks of paper on the bed. Most of them were half-finished sketches and drafts you never bothered to throw away, in case you needed them again. It would not be the first time. 

Sunghoon’s voice startled you. "What's this?” He gestured to a half-finished architectural model on his desk, a sleek modernist building carefully cut out of foam board and assembled with tiny, precise details. You spent countless hours on it, just for your professor to ask if you could start over since he didn’t think it was the best you could do.

You hesitated before replying. “It was supposed to be my final project. For my design class.”

Sunghoon bent down slightly, inspecting it. 

“This is insane,” he murmured, his fingers hovering near the structure but not touching it. “It looks like something you’d see in an actual firm.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that, so you just gave a small nod. You watched him inspect the model for a second longer before he reached for a stack of your books. 

“W-What are you doing?” Your hands stopped mid-motion, the papers in them unrolling slightly again. 

“Helping,” he said simply, not looking up. “You’re going to take forever if you do this alone. I’ll just put them into your room, okay?”

“O…kay,” you mumbled, focusing back on your sketches.

An hour and a half later, the room was clean. Well, mostly clean. Your things were now safely in your room, and Sunghoon’s moving boxes were neatly stacked in the corner, ready to be unpacked.

After you gave Sunghoon a tour of the kitchen and went over the house rules, you found yourself standing awkwardly in the living room when you were done. 

"Uhm… do you, uh, need anything else?"

Sunghoon looked up from where he was stacking his books on the shelf. "Nope. I think I got it."

"Okay, um, good. Well, uhm, goodnight then."

His lips curled slightly, amused at your awkwardness. "Goodnight, Y/N."

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

When you woke up and made your way to the kitchen at 6:30 am the next day, you felt like you had just risen from the dead. Your hair was a mess, your eyes were half-closed, and your body was running purely on muscle memory as you wandered towards the kitchen.

There was light spilling into the hallway from the kitchen, and for a second you wondered if you forgot to turn it off yesterday or if you were just hallucinating again. But when you rubbed your eyes and looked up, you realised something far worse than hallucination was happening.

There was a half-naked man in your kitchen.

Sunghoon stood by the counter, one hand resting on the counter, the other rubbing the back of his neck as he yawned. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, and his bare upper body was exposed to the warm air in the kitchen. 

He turned, his eyes heavy with sleep, and blinked at you, standing frozen in the doorway.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, he yawned again. "Morning."

"Uh", you cleared your throat, snapping your gaze away from his body. Ogling at your admittedly stupidly attractive new roommate was very inappropriate. "Morning."

Your voice sounded way too high-pitched.

Sunghoon didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he just poured himself a cup of coffee, completely unbothered.

You walked to the fridge, pretending not to care that he was standing next to it and grabbed one of your containers with porridge inside. 

By the time you turned back around, Sunghoon had disappeared into the hallway. A few seconds later, he re-emerged, now wearing a T-shirt.

"Do you have any plans today?" he asked, casually leaning against the counter as he took a sip of his coffee.

You glanced at him, still feeling a bit weird to have seen him half-naked after knowing him for not even twenty-four hours. "Uh… yeah. I have work today."

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. "You work during the break?"

"Yes?" You frowned. "I mean, my scholarship covers a lot, but I still have to pay for food, transportation, materials, and extra costs. It adds up."

Sunghoon hummed, nodding. "What do you do?"

"I work as an intern at an architecture studio," you grabbed a spoon and honey, setting them on the counter. "I mostly organise files, scan documents, and do small tasks for the senior architects. I also make coffee and refill the printer paper, which is apparently the most important job in the entire office."

Sunghoon let out a small chuckle at that. "Sounds fun."

You shrugged. "It pays. Do you have plans for today?"

He leaned back slightly, his gaze flicking toward your food as you peeled off the lid of your porridge and took a small spoonful. "The only thing I’ll be doing today is train. Probably up until I get thrown out again."

You blinked at him. "Training?"

"Yeah." He took another sip of coffee. "The season ended, but I’m still training. I’m working to qualify for the Olympics."

You froze mid-bite.

"The…Olympics?"

"Yeah."

Your spoon slowly lowered. "You’re an athlete?"

Sunghoon nodded and took another sip of his coffee. “Yeah. I’m a figure skater.” 

“Oh,” you just answered, not knowing what else to say.

Both of you went silent for a long moment until he cleared his throat again. “I’ll probably come home pretty late. Do you mind me showering here or should I shower at the rink? I don’t want to, like, wake you up or something.”

You hummed and shook your head. “No, that’s all right. I sleep well even if there is noise around me.”

“Okay,” he nodded again. 

“Are you really training for the Olympics?” You asked after a bit of silence. 

"Hopefully," Sunghoon shrugged. "If I qualify."

For a moment, you just stared at him and tried to imagine him in one of those pretty dresses the figure skaters wore. Then, you shook your head, trying to get rid of the thought. "That’s really impressive."

Sunghoon just shrugged, like it was no big deal.

You took another bite of your porridge, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. You never did anything that made you special. Or something impressive. 

Your roommate took another sip of his coffee, watching you. "You always eat that little? I feel like if that was the only thing I ate for breakfast, I’d starve all day."

You swallowed, a bit caught off guard. "I meal-prep my portions."

He hummed, tilting his head slightly. "Are you on a diet? Or just because it’s convenient?"

You hesitated for a second, the porridge suddenly heavy in your stomach, and just gave a tight smile. "It’s convenient."

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The apartment was dark when Sunghoon came home. 

It wasn’t unusual for him to come home to an empty apartment. In the last week that he had been living here, he had barely seen you around. 

You were usually out of the house when he rolled himself out of bed, and aside from a few short greetings in the kitchen, when both of you were at home, you barely talked. 

He figured you were just shy or maybe just didn’t like talking to people in general. 

Not that he had a problem with that. 

He himself wasn’t much of a talker either, and he really enjoyed the fact that you weren’t as noisy or nosy as his previous roommate. 

Kicking off his shoes, he stretched his arms over his head, sighing as he made his way into the living room. 

He poured himself a glass of water, hoping it would help him cool down a bit. Even though it was almost ten p.m., it was still unbearably hot outside, and the apartment wasn’t nearly as cold as he wished it to be. You rarely turned on the AC when you weren’t home. Sunghoon didn’t mind that; he was at the rink most of the time anyway, but today he felt like he was melting. 

The remote for the AC was on top of the fridge, and it came to life with a small humming sound after he turned it on. His eyes flickered over the pictures and postcards that were held up by colourful magnets on the fridge doors. Most of them seemed to be from the same place, all of them portraying the beach.

Before he could stop himself, he had reached forward and carefully picked one of them up. He knew he shouldn’t be doing that, but he was curious. He really didn’t know much about you, even though you were living together. For all he knew, you could be a serial killer who would strangle him to death while he was asleep. 

The thought made him chuckle. 

You were more than a head smaller than him and didn’t look strong enough to do that; you were rather petite.

Sunghoon turned the postcard around. 

Hi Bug! Busan is as beautiful as ever. I wish you were here. I hope you're doing well in Seoul. Take care. See you soon.- Love and miss you, Donghyuck :) 

Oh. 

He didn’t realise you had a boyfriend. 

Not that it would make him think differently of you, but he thought you would have mentioned it to him at least once. 

Donghyuck definitely sounded like a boyfriend's name. 

Your hometown was close to Busan after all. Maybe he went to Busan to study, and you went to Seoul, and the two of you were sending postcards back and forth? 

Sunghoon had asked around if someone might know you, and surprisingly, Jay recognised you after he had shown him your profile picture. 

He knew your brother, or well, a very close friend of your brother, Jeno, who had dated one of Jay’s friends for a while. Jay had told Sunghoon that the three of you came from a small town near Busan, but couldn’t tell him more about you; he hadn’t met you in person and had only seen pictures. 

Sunghoon shook his head and took another sip of water. 

He should really get to know you a bit. He really didn’t want to stumble into you and your boyfriend without warning.  

When he was just about to go to the bathroom to get ready for bed, the front door opened. Sunghoon’s fight-or-flight response immediately set in, but when he saw your figure walking into the hallway, he relaxed again.

You seemed exhausted; your shoulders dropped, and your head hung low as you let your bag fall onto the floor, kicking off your shoes. You rubbed at your temple and took a deep, audible breath before lifting your gaze to meet his. The dim kitchen light cast soft shadows over your face, emphasising the dark circles beneath your eyes.

“Hi,” he said, sounding surprised. “Were you at work until now?” 

“Yeah, we were short-staffed in the cinema today,” you mumbled, walking past him to grab a glass from the cabinet.

“The cinema?” Sunghoon repeated. “I thought you worked at the architecture studio?”

"I do," you sighed, filling your glass with water just like he did a couple of minutes before. "This is my second job."

His eyebrows rose. "You have two jobs?"

You let out a small huff of laughter, but it was completely devoid of amusement. "Sadly, yeah."

Sunghoon blinked. “That sounds like a lot.”

You just nodded. “It is. But I get to stay in Seoul, and have at least a bit of money to spend on myself. So it’s worth it.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The sunlight was drifting in through the sheer curtains in the living room, heating up the bare skin of your legs. You didn’t mind the sun or the heat; you preferred it over the artificial cold coming from the ACs that were everywhere. Now that you barely had time for anything but working and studying, even during the summer break, you were almost desperate to catch a bit of sunlight. 

You were curled onto the sofa, reading a book from your to-be-read pile that accumulated during the semester, when Sunghoon shuffled into the living room, still half asleep. His hair was standing up in every direction, and he had red streaks on his face that came from sleeping on wrinkly fabric. He let himself fall next to you on the sofa, leaned back and closed his eyes again, grumbling sleepily. “Good morning, Y/N.”

"Good morning, Sunghoon," you said softly, turning your attention back to your book. You had noticed over the course of the last week that Sunghoon wasn’t a morning person. He was always grumpy in the morning, but still polite and nice to you.

For a long moment he just sat there, his eyes closed. The slow and soft breathing that came from Sunghoon made you think he had fallen asleep again, so you almost flinched when he suddenly spoke up. "Got any plans today?"

"Not really," you murmured, tucking your feet under yourself to make some more space for him.

Sunghoon opened one eye. “You don’t have work today?”

 "The studio is closed on weekends, and since I usually work on weekdays in the cinema, I have weekends off. "

"Mm," he grunted. "At least two days of the week, you don’t have to run out the door at seven.”

You let out a small chuckle. "Yeah. It’s nice to sleep in."

The conversation faded into silence, and you shifted your focus back onto your book. 

Just as you were finishing your chapter, his voice suddenly broke the silence in the living room again.

“Do you not like the AC?” 

You looked up and blinked at him. "The AC?"

He hummed. “Yeah, you rarely turn it on.”

“Oh,” you shrugged. “I like to open the windows in the morning. I like it warm, so I only turn it on when it gets unbearably warm. We can switch it on if you’d like to?” 

Sunghoon shook his head. "No, it’s fine. I was just wondering. Would you like me to open mine as well?” 

You hesitated. On the first day, you had thought about asking him if he could open his window, so there would be better airflow, but decided against it.

“You don’t have to. I don’t want to overstep."

He exhaled a soft laugh. "Don’t worry. I'll just open it myself. Then you can’t overstep anything."

You smiled faintly. "Thank you."

For a while, there was nothing but the occasional rustling of your pages and the sound of cars in the distance. 

Then Sunghoon spoke again. 

He didn’t seem like a person who talked a lot. 

But apparently, he had the desire to talk to you sometimes. He would come to your room or the kitchen when you were there and strike up conversations. It was nice. Sunghoon was nice. 

You googled him and asked Jaemin about Sunghoon when you were working the Wednesday shift in the cinema together. Wednesday was always slow, not that you minded; it gave you plenty of time to talk to Jaemin.

According to him, Sunghoon was really nice. 

"Do you miss home?"

The question caught you off guard. You looked at him again, only to find that he wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling.

You hesitated before answering. "Sometimes. Tongyeong has a certain charm to itself."

Sunghoon nodded slowly. „It must be weird to move from such a small town to Seoul. I grew up in Suwon, but I think I spend more time in Seoul than anywhere else. My childhood and teenage years took place in ice rinks in Seoul.“

You thought for a second. 

It was weird. 

The house you grew up in was always loud. Either your brothers or the guests downstairs in the restaurant were constantly talking or making noises, and suddenly you were in this apartment, all alone, and it was silent. 

You never realised how much you would miss your brothers until they weren’t just across the hall.

„Yeah. It’s weird,” you hummed. It’s so quiet and loud here at the same time. At home, you rarely hear this many cars passing by, but my family is quite loud, so living alone is very quiet,“ you put in a bookmark so you wouldn't lose your page. 

You assumed Sunghoon was in the mood to talk right now. 

„Really? Do you have siblings?“ He tilted his head slightly. His hair flopped down. 

You hummed and nodded. “Three brothers. All older. Seven years, four years and two years. What about you?“

„I have one sister. Five years younger than me. And a dog,“ he chuckled.

„Oh, that’s nice. I always wanted a pet. But my parents wouldn’t allow it. They were busy enough with 4 kids and a restaurant.“

"Your parents have a restaurant?" Sunghoon asked.

"Yeah," you nodded

"Do you help out?" He sat up, turning fully to you, his arm coming to rest on the backrest of the sofa.

"Not really," you admitted. "My parents always told me to focus on my studies and made my brothers help them. I would help if they let me. I usually cleaned out the flat, though. I like the area I live in to be really clean, and growing up, my brothers weren’t the cleanest.“

Sunghoon hummed. „Yeah, I’ve noticed. I think that’s pretty nice. That you are such a clean person, I mean. I love my old roommate, but he left his shit everywhere and should be sued for noise complaints. That guy never shuts up.“

„Oh, that sounds annoying,“ you chuckled. You could see how that would annoy Sunghoon. 

“It’s all right,” he hummed and lifted himself from the sofa. “Do you want some breakfast? I was thinking about going for a run and getting something from the Creek. My friend’s girlfriend works there, and I can get us free stuff?”

“I, uhm. I already ate. But thank you so much for offering,” you smiled at him.

“Sure, always.” 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Sunghoon wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand as he stepped back into the apartment. By the time he finished his run and stepped into the small cafe across the campus, the sun had started blazing. 

He peeled his shoes and socks off and had to stop himself from just ripping his drenched shirt off his body. Sure, you had seen him half naked once, but that was an accident, and he wasn’t keen on repeating it, so he sighed and moved towards the bathroom after dropping off the bag of baked goods in the kitchen. 

Sunghoon had expected you to have gone back to your room, but when his gaze flickered toward the living room, he noticed the top of your head peeking over the sofa backrest. 

“Y/N?” He stepped closer to the sofa. 

You were asleep.

Your legs were slightly bent, and your arms were in awkward positions, one sprawled across your face, blocking your eyes from the light coming in through the living room windows, the other one resting loosely over your stomach. The book you had been reading was lying on the floor next to you, seemingly having slipped from your hand when you fell asleep. 

Sunghoon reached down to pick it up, placing it onto the sofa table, before quietly wandering towards the bathroom to wash off the sweat still running down his back. 

He made his way back to the kitchen twenty minutes later and cursed the architect who designed your flat for deciding on building an open-style kitchen. It was actually what sold him on the place, but now, with only a kitchen pass-through separating the two spaces, it also meant that if he used the coffee machine, it would definitely wake you up. He signed and grabbed the orange juice jug in the fridge instead. 

As he poured himself a glass, his eyes landed on the vase near the window.  The tulips inside were starting to wilt, slowly letting their heads hang down. A few petals had fallen onto the windowsill.

Without thinking, he got up, grabbed the vase and changed the water. Maybe that would keep them alive for a bit longer. 

Sunghoon took another sip, glancing at your figure again. He was thinking about waking you up, so you could go to your bed and get proper rest, but before he could move, you stirred. 

At first, it was just a sleepy shift, a small stretch of your legs. But then, your eyelids fluttered, and with a deep breath, you slowly pushed yourself up, blinking blearily at the room.

“Hi.”

Your gaze flickered to him, still half-asleep. 

“Hi,” you murmured back, your voice soft.

He hesitated for a second before nodding toward the counter. “I got you a salt bread.”

Your brows furrowed slightly, then you followed his gaze to the extra plate. You stared at it for a moment before looking back at him. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he said simply. “I got them for free, so I thought I’d just bring you one too.”

You hummed again before flopping back onto the sofa, stretching your arms above your head with a sleepy little sigh. Sunghoon watched you for a second, trying not to make it obvious that he was watching. You looked tired, even though you had just slept.

When you finally pushed yourself up from the couch, he glanced back down at his juice as if he had been doing that the whole time. He heard your soft footsteps on the floor and then watched you pad over to the kitchen again, yawning as you sank onto the stool across from him. Your hair was a little messy, one side pressed flatter than the other, and you still looked half asleep when you picked up the pastry and stared at it for a moment before tearing off a small piece.

“Thanks, Sunghoon,” you said quietly. “I really like these.”

He only hummed and leaned back slightly, watching as you took a bite.

“Me too. But I can’t really eat bread during the season,” he said. “So I have to stuff myself with anything gluten now, before I won’t be able to.”

You looked up at him, brows drawing together a little. “Why?”

He gave a small shrug. “I get stomach aches sometimes, and bloating is honestly the worst before practice. I really do not need to feel like I’ve swallowed a rock when I’m trying to jump on ice.”

You blinked once, then nodded slowly like you were processing that. “So it’s like a diet thing?”

He shook his head. “Not really. It’s just my stomach being dramatic.”

That seemed to ease something in your face, and you lowered your eyes back to the pastry in your hands. He watched you break off another piece, smaller this time. 

“I kind of get that,” you said after a moment.

He tilted his head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “My stomach is pretty sensitive, I guess. I kind of have to eat small portions more often; otherwise it gets upset.”

That made him look at you properly. “Really?”

You nodded, almost like you were apologising for it. “And gluten makes it worse sometimes. Not always, but enough that I usually just try not to have too much of it at once.”

“Hm,” he hummed, because he didn’t really know what else to say. That sounded annoying, honestly. “That sounds miserable.”

“It’s not that bad,” you said quickly, then seemed to catch how fast you had said it and softened a little. “I mean. It’s annoying, but I’ve had it for a while.”

He nodded once. That made sense enough.

“Do you meal prep because of that?” he asked.

You looked down at the pastry again. “Mostly. It’s easier that way. If I have small portions ready, I don’t have to think about it.”

“Fair,” he said. “I meal prep during the season as well.”

That got your attention. You looked up again, a little surprised. “Really?”

He gave you a look. “Of course. I have to eat a lot, but cooking every day is a pain.”

Your mouth curved slightly at that. “You hate cooking?”

“I don’t hate it,” he said, though that was being generous. “I just don’t want to do it after training. I need a lot of protein and carbohydrates every day, so meal prep is the only way I stay sane.”

You nodded slowly, like you were filing that away. “That makes sense.”

“It’s annoying that I have to eat the same thing three days in a row,” he added. “But it works.”

A small laugh slipped out of you, soft and warm, and he glanced up before he could stop himself. “I actually like cooking,” you said.

He blinked once. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, more certain this time. “It’s kind of one of the few things I don’t mind doing. I like making food for people. I like not eating alone.”

Sunghoon grinned at you. “That’s convenient.”

You frowned a little. “How is that convenient?”

He shrugged. “Because if you ever feel like cooking for me, I would definitely not stop you.”

That pulled a laugh out of you, soft and a little disbelieving. “You would want me to cook for you?”

“I might even sit still and not get in your way while you’re in the kitchen,” he said seriously.

Your eyes narrowed slightly, but he could tell you were amused. “Wow. Generous.”

“I know,” he said, completely deadpan.

You took another bite of the pastry. 

“How often do you train?” you asked after a moment.

“Every day.”

Your brows lifted. “Every day?”

“Usually once,” he said. “Sometimes twice if Coach is being annoying.”

“That’s intense.”

“It’s normal for me,” he said, because it was. “But I burn a lot of calories, so I have to eat enough to stay at my weight.”

You tilted your head slightly, looking at him with that same thoughtful expression you always got when you were actually trying to understand something. “You really have to eat that much?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

That made you smile faintly. “You make it sound like a chore.”

“It kind of is,” he admitted. “I’d rather skate and then disappear into bed, but apparently my body disagrees.”

You laughed softly. “Oh no, poor you.” 

“Well,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “if you ever feel like cooking, you can definitely make me something. I can’t promise I’ll be useful, but I can at least wash the dishes.”

Your eyes flicked to him. “That might actually be a good deal. I hate doing the dishes.”

“It is a good deal,” he said. “I’m very fair.”

The apartment was quiet for a moment, the sound of birds outside filtering in through the open windows.

“Sure,” you hummed and took another bite. 

Sunghoon leaned onto his arms. “So what do you do on your day off?”

You shrugged. “Laundry. Grocery shopping. Paint sometimes, but most of the time I just sleep.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re really making the most of your free time.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “I don’t have much free time, so I have to use it well.”

Sunghoon thought about that for a second. It made sense. He understood what it was like to have every second of your day planned out, to always have something you were supposed to be doing.

His eyes wandered towards the framed canvas hanging against one of the kitchen walls. He had always thought it might have come with the apartment, just like the furniture in his room, but when he took a closer look, there was a stamp with your initials on it. 

“Did you paint that one?” He asked, nodding towards it. 

Your gaze flickered to the painting, and you pursed your lips, nodding slowly. “Oh, uh, yeah,” you mumbled. “Last summer break. It’s oil, so it took an eternity to dry. But, uh, the sun helped.”

He tilted his head back toward the painting. “Oh wow,” he said, genuinely impressed. “That’s so cool. Are the other ones yours, too?”

“Uh. Yeah,” You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and nodded again. “I was feeling…really inspired last year. And my brother got me oil paints for my birthday so I just painted. But we can take them off the walls if you don’t like them? I don’t mind, and you live here too, so you should also feel comfortable and if–”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon chuckled, interrupting your rambling, and your gaze flickered up to his face before you pulled your lower lip between your teeth. “It’s fine. I like them. It makes the apartment feel a bit homier. You’re really talented.” 

“I–,” you nodded again, and Sunghoon had to suppress a laugh. You suddenly seemed so flustered. 

“I never really had the chance to paint with oils before since they’re super expensive. But, uh, money well spent, I guess?”

He looked back at the paintings again, his gaze lingering for a moment. It was really well done. “They are really well done. You should think about selling them, Y/N. Not many people are able to do this.” 

You quickly looked away, avoiding his gaze. And then, you laughed. A weird, nervous little laugh, your cheeks flushing a bit.

“Oh, no, I mean–it’s just practice, really,” you blurted out, waving a hand in the air. “It’s not like–it’s not, like, some crazy talent or anything. It’s just… You do it enough, and it sort of, um, happens?”

“Still,” he said, amused now, “it’s really cool.”

You made a weird, stiff nod, then immediately picked up your water and took the smallest possible sip.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

You stepped into your apartment, shivering slightly at the cool air pressing against your skin. 

Sunghoon must have turned on the AC again. 

It was almost unbearably hot outside, the pavement heating up during the day and not cooling down even in the dark of the night, but inside, it was much colder. 

You never really liked using the AC too much; the temperature drop always left you uncomfortable. 

Unfortunately, Sunghoon didn’t seem to mind the cold. 

You placed your shoes neatly next to his by the door and stepped further into the cool apartment. The sound of the television playing in the background hummed through the air. Sunghoon was sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, eyes focused on the screen.

You hesitated for a second, not really sure what to say, if you should say anything at all. You didn’t want to disturb Sunghoon and make him miss something in his show, but before you could decide, Sunghoon reached for the remote and lowered the volume.

His head turned toward you. “Hey.”

You blinked, a little caught off guard. “Hi.”

He sat up slightly, resting his elbow on the armrest. “How was work?”

You sighed and shrugged, making your way into the kitchen. “It was fine. Busier than usual.”

You and Sunghoon had somehow become something like friends during the last two weeks; it was nice having him around, filling the silence whenever it became unbearable, but also staying quiet when the world was a bit too loud.

He tilted his head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you hummed and nodded before pulling the freezer open and shuffling through the bags of frozen food. “It’s usually not that packed during summer shifts, but today was weirdly busy.” 

You found the familiar container of kolddugi muchim that you couldn’t stop thinking about all day, pulling it out underneath a bag of frozen broccoli Sunghoon had bought the day before. “At least Jaemin was there. It was fun with him.”

Sunghoon hummed in acknowledgement, his gaze flicking back to the screen for a moment. “Who’s Jaemin?”

You hesitated slightly before standing up from the crouching position you were in. “My friend and coworker, I guess. He works the counter with me.”

Sunghoon nodded slowly. “You work with him a lot?”

The question made you frown a bit. “Yeah. Why?”

“No reason,” he said, shrugging. “Just wondering. I’m just trying to keep on track with all of the names and people you tell me about.”

You nodded slowly before turning back to the counter to start defrosting your food. Your favourite pot was still in the dishwasher; it hadn’t been run today. There weren’t any new dishes in the sink either.

You hesitated for a second. 

“Have you eaten today?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder.

Sunghoon looked at you, almost like he was caught off guard by the question. “Uh… no. I was too lazy to cook after I came from the gym, so I just had a protein shake.”

You frowned slightly. 

A protein shake was not a meal, especially not if he had been training today. 

You shifted your weight, debating for a second before clearing your throat. “Do you… Want some? I’m making kolddugi muchim and rice.”

His eyes lit up a little, his usual neutral expression shifting. “Oh, for sure. That sounds way better than another shake.”

With a nod, you turned back to the counter. “Okay.”  

Sunghoon stood up, stretching slightly. “Need help with anything?”

“Um,” you thought for a second, going through the list of things you might need. “Could you go to the GS25 down the street and get some mu kimchi? Only if it’s no trouble. I can go too.”

He waved you off, already grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter. “Nah, I got it. I’ll be back in a sec.”

The apartment fell silent again as the door shut behind him.

You stood still for a moment, listening to the distant hum of the refrigerator and the faint dialogue from the drama still playing on TV. Then, shaking off the quiet, you turned back to the stove.

The scent of simmering garlic and gochugaru filled the air, thick and warm. It clung to the fabric of your clothes and seeped into the walls of the small kitchen. 

You closed your eyes for a second.

It smelled like home.

Like summer afternoons in the restaurant, your mother’s voice drifting in from the kitchen. The sharp tang of kimchi mingling with the sweetness of caramelised fish sauce. The distant sound of seagulls outside, the heavy heat of the South pressing against the window screens.

You exhaled, opening your eyes again.

It had been a while since you were home. 

You wanted to go home during the summer break, leave Seoul and all its stress behind for a couple of weeks, but then you were offered your internship and couldn’t go it. 

Swallowing the sudden ache, you focused on stirring the sauce, watching the deep red paste thicken over the heat. 

Cooking had always been something comforting, something familiar. 

You never saw yourself working in the restaurant after you finished high school, but you missed living by the sea, close to your family. 

Donghyuck had moved to Seoul a year after you did, and you were glad. He came to visit you a lot, claiming that he needed a break from seeing his roommate’s face from time to time, only to end up bringing Jeno along. He had been Donghyuck's best friend for so long, Jeno was basically your older brother as well, so it was a given that you cooked for him as well. 

The sound of the door being unlocked ripped you from your thoughts, and your head snapped up to watch Sunghoon step back inside the apartment, a small plastic bag in his hand. “Got it.”

“That was fast.”

He shrugged, placing the bag on the counter. “I have long legs.”

You glanced inside, pulling out the package of mu kimchi. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he said, leaning against the counter. “If you’re cooking for me, it’s the least I can do, Y/N.”

His eyes flicked to the stove. “It smells really good.”

“It’s my mom’s. She gives me containers of this stuff every time I visit home. Sometimes I have to eat kolddugi muchim for days after I’ve been home because it won’t fit into the freezer,” you chuckled.

“Oh, I wouldn’t complain about eating kolddugi muchim for days. If it tastes as good as it smells, I’ll gladly help you eat some of the kolddugi muchim you can’t fit into the freezer.” Sunghoon grinned and reached up to grab two sets of plates and bowls from the cabinet. 

You just nodded and smiled at him while dropping the still slightly frozen baby octopus into your mom’s premade sauce. The sizzling of the pan was the only sound for a few moments. 

“I’ll go and turn off the TV. I’ll be right back,” Sunghoon said and disappeared into the living room. A few seconds later, the music box he placed in the kitchen made a sound, and Sunghoon’s playlist hummed through the speakers, while you finished cooking.

Somehow, the two of you had picked designated seats at the kitchen table across from each other, so whenever the two of you had eaten together, there was no question who would be sitting where. 

You watched Sunghoon pile some of the baby octopus onto his plate. “It may be a bit spicy. I kinda put a lot of sauce in there. 

He just shrugged. “That’s okay, I don’t mind the spice.”

“Okay,” you nodded, scooping some rice onto your spoon, trying to not obviously stare at him while he tried the food. 

His brows lifted slightly, and he gave a small nod. “This is good.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. “Really?”

He hummed. “Yeah. This is nice.”

A strange sense of relief settled in your chest. You took a small bite yourself, humming in delight when it did taste good. Not as good as if your mom made it freshly, but it was still good. 

You would have to call your mom later to thank her for cooking for you. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Sunghoon stood outside your door, listening to the faint sound of music coming from inside. He knocked once, then again when you didn’t answer right away.

When he had opened up the fridge this morning, both your shelve and his shelve were almost empty. He knew you would be going grocery shopping today as well, so he figured he could just ask if you wanted to go together.

A few moments later, the door opened just enough for him to see you standing there, paint smudged on one sleeve.

“Hey,” he said, glancing past you into your room. “You busy?”

You turned slightly, following his gaze back to the canvas on your desk. “Um. Just painting.”

He took that in for a second. It looked like another food painting, if the bowl that was already finished was any indicator. The room itself was a little messy in the way yours always was when you were working, brushes, paper and tubes of paint spread out over your desk.

“Right,” he said, then leaned one shoulder against the doorframe. “I was gonna go grocery shopping for the week. Do you want to come with me?”

You looked at him like you were actually considering it, which made him wait instead of filling the silence.

“Yeah,” you said, glancing back into your room before your shoulders shifted and you gave a small nod. “Okay. Give me like twenty minutes to get ready?”

“Yeah, sure,” he hummed. “Take your time.”

You disappeared back into your room, and Sunghoon wandered over to the living room. He dropped onto the sofa and pulled out his phone, scrolling mindlessly through his TikTok while the apartment stayed quiet around him. Every now and then he glanced toward your room, half expecting to hear you rushing around, but there was only the soft thud of you closing your closet door and then nothing.

When you finally came out, he looked up almost automatically.

For a second he just stared.

Your hair was braided back neatly, the way it usually was, and you were wearing a white dress that fell loosely around you, soft and flowy. 

Sunghoon blinked once and sat up a little straighter. “You always braid your hair.”

You glanced at him, your lips pursed. “Yeah?”

He pushed himself off the sofa and tucked his phone into his pocket. “No, I mean. Always always. I don’t think I’ve seen it open more than like once.”

You shrugged lightly, already reaching for your keys. “I just prefer it that way.”

He hummed as he followed you to the door, though he couldn’t stop looking at the braid. It was neat, simple. “Doesn’t it get annoying to braid every day?”

You shook your head. “Not really.”

Sunghoon let out a small breath through his nose, stepping out into the hallway after you. “I think you should leave it open; it’s pretty.”

You just hummed, keeping your face turned away from him. He knew there were certain things you didn’t like talking about, shutting down conversations before they could even begin, and apparently your hair was one of them. Sunghoon shook his head as the two of you started down the stairs together. 

It was hot outside, the kind of heat that clung to your skin the second you stepped out of the building, and Sunghoon immediately regretted not waiting until later in the evening.

“It is so stupidly hot,” he muttered, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “Why does Seoul have to feel like the inside of an oven in summer?”

You glanced at him, then back ahead. “It’s not that bad.”

He turned to look at you, offended. “What do you mean, not that bad?”

You gave the faintest shrug. “It’s warm.”

“Warm?” he repeated. “This is not warm. This is hostile.”

That got the smallest hint of a smile out of you, and he caught it just long enough to feel mildly satisfied with himself.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The grocery store wasn’t far, but by the time you got there, Sunghoon’s t-shirt was drenched. You walked beside him without complaining once, hands relaxed at your sides, braid resting between your shoulder blades.

The doors to the store opened, and when the two of you stepped inside, Sunghoon sighed in relief, the cold from the AC washing over his body as he got a cart for the two of you. He steered the two of you deeper into the supermarket, one hand resting loosely on the handle while the other occasionally reached out to grab something from the shelves without really stopping.

You stayed beside him, quiet in the way you usually were when you were thinking, eyes moving over the rows of products without lingering anywhere for too long. 

“Wait,” you said, stopping the cart when you passed the oatmeal section. “I think mine are almost done.”

Sunghoon hummed and followed you inside the aisle.

“I was thinking of getting these for the week,” you said, squatting down and grabbing a flashy box. 

He hummed, reaching for it, reading the front of the package when you handed it to him.

It was a white oat, fruits and nuts mix.

“Which one do you usually buy?”

You shrugged. “Just the plain one.”

He made a face when he turned the box around in his hands. “You should get the protein one.”

You looked up at him. “Why?”

“Because it has more energy,” he said, pointing at the nutrition table on the back with a fingertip. “And better ingredients. See?”

He held the package out a little so you could look at it, before grabbing the one brand Wonyoung always raved about. “You said you’ve been feeling tired all the time; maybe you need some more protein. That helped a friend of mine, and she really likes that one.”

You reached forward, and your fingers closed around the cardboard before you turned it around once, then twice,  before nodding and tossing it into the cart.

The two of you continued down the aisle, casually stacking more things into the cart. He kept filling his own side with random food. Rice, vegetables, eggs, protein drinks, a few snacks. 

Your side looked different, a lot more specific. You spent a lot more time deciding between products, pondering the different choices, checking the list on your phone, checking the boxes whenever you added something to the cart.

He glanced at your list at some point and then at you. “Do you shop the same stuff every week?”

You looked up from your phone. “Most of the time, yeah.”

“That sounds boring.”

You gave a small shrug. “It’s not bad. There are a lot of things I can cook with that.”

“You mean loads of things you can drown in gochujang?”

You didn’t answer that, just moved to the next shelf and reached for another bar of dark chocolate. Sunghoon watched you for a second before stepping closer and taking one of the protein bars from the shelf.

“You should get these too,” he said, holding it out. “They’re good.”

You took it from him and turned it over in your hand, scanning the front before flipping it around to the back. You read the label for a second longer this time. 

He watched you drop it towards your side of the cart before you put the dark chocolate back into the shelf. 

The second you stepped into the frozen aisle, you started shivering, wrapping your arms around your body, while you followed him, so Sunghoon just grabbed a few packs of chicken breast off the shelf and dropped them into the cart one after another.

You glanced down at the pile of them, then back at him. “What are you gonna eat that with?”

He looked over his shoulder. “No idea.”

You blinked. “You just eat it plain?”

He gave you a look like that was a stupid question. “Most of the time, yeah.”

That made you hum softly to yourself, more thoughtful than amused, and you reached into the freezer case beside you before he could say anything else. A bag of frozen broccoli went into the cart, then another pack of vegetables, then some carrots.

Sunghoon looked down at what you were adding. “What are you doing?”

You shrugged. “I’m keeping my end of the deal, and I won’t let you eat plain chicken.” 

He laughed at that, short and warm, and shook his head a little. “You wanna cook for me?”

You glanced at him, already reaching for another bag. “Well, yes. You’re the one paying. I’ll be the one cooking for the both of us. It’s convenient if we don’t get the kitchen dirty multiple times a day.”

That made him laugh again, a little louder this time, and he nodded once. “Fair.”

After a beat, you reached into the freezer again and added another pack of mixed vegetables to his side of the cart. He looked down at it, then at you.

“You’re spoiling me,” he said.

You hummed. “You’re paying.”

He laughed under his breath. “You’re enabling my laziness by cooking for me. How am I supposed to learn how to cook?”

“If you only want to cook, feel free. I won’t be stopping you.”

“I never said I don’t want to cook.”

“You did imply it.”

He gave you a long look, then broke into another grin and nodded once. “Okay, maybe I did.”

You were already looking away again, focused on the shelf in front of you, but the corner of his mouth stayed tilted up as he kept pushing the cart.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

You left the grocery store with more bags than Sunghoon had expected. He had ended up carrying most of them, insisting you took the smaller bags, ignoring how you complained about him thinking you were weak. Considering you asked him to open bottles sometimes, he was sure you would have handed him the heavy bags anyway. 

The heat outside hit Sunghoon like a wall. He hated it: the warmth, the sweat and the clammy feeling all over his body that came with it. Sunghoon exhaled through his nose, shifting the bags higher in his grip.

“God, it’s still disgusting out here,” he muttered.

You only hummed, apparently unaffected in a way that made him feel slightly betrayed by his own body. The two of you were chatting, talking about nothing and everything while walking back to your apartment complex, before you went quiet for a moment. 

“Can we stop by the flower shop?”

He turned his head. “The one you always talk about?”

You nodded. “If it’s okay.”

He shrugged, though the bags in his hands made the movement awkward. “Yeah, sure.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The bell over the door chimed when the two of you stepped inside. 

It smelled like water, leaves, and something soft he couldn’t quite place. Flowers lined the narrow room in neat clusters, some already wrapped and waiting near the counter, others still standing in buckets along the floor and tables.

The woman behind the counter looked up immediately and smiled when she saw you. “Y/N,” she said warmly, “what a lovely surprise.”

You brightened a little, your face easing in a way Sunghoon had never seen before. It was pretty. 

“Hi.”

She came around the counter, hands wiping briefly against her apron before she reached for one of the buckets near the front. “You haven’t been here in a while. I was wondering when I’d see you again.”

“Work has been a bit much,” you admitted, shifting the bag in your arms.

The woman made a sympathetic noise and then glanced toward Sunghoon, her eyebrows raised, as she looked back towards you. "And who is this?”

You turned slightly. “Oh, this is Sunghoon. He’s my roommate.”

Sunghoon gave her a polite little bow, suddenly feeling nervous about making a bad impression. You and the lady seemed close. “Hello. Nice to meet you.”

Her expression softened instantly, as if the bow had been the correct answer to some invisible test. “Roommate,” she repeated, then looked at you again with a knowing sort of smile. “So you do have company at home now.”

You blinked at her, and Sunghoon noticed the red creeping up your neck. “Ajumma.”

She ignored that completely and waved a hand at the flowers. “Come, come. Let me show you what I have today.”

You followed her deeper into the shop, Sunghoon trailing after you a little awkwardly with the grocery bags still in hand. The woman moved around the buckets, looking for something specific, before lifting out flowers one by one and holding them toward you.

“These are lovely today,” she said, showing you a handful of blooms with pale petals that were slightly open already. “Not the freshest ones, but the shape is still very nice.”

Sunghoon frowned a little as he watched you take them in your hands and turn them gently from side to side. He wasn’t sure why, but he had expected you to reach for the brightest, newest ones. Instead, your attention seemed to settle on the flowers that looked a little less perfect, the ones with petals that had started to curl at the edges or lean slightly to one side.

"Why not buy fresh ones today, my child?" She asked, handing you another battered-looking one. "I got some beautiful tulips just this morning."

You looked up at that, then smiled a little sheepishly. “I think they’re also pretty.”

The woman shook her head fondly. “You and your strange taste."

You adjusted the flowers in your hands and gave a small shrug. “I like the ones that no one else would pick; you would throw them out anyway. And even if they just live for a day in my kitchen, at least they got some love, Ajumma. I'm sure someone will buy the tulips.”

The woman’s expression softened at that, and for a moment she just looked at you with more love and care in her eyes than a stranger should have for their customer. Then she let out a quiet hum and started wrapping the stems in paper.

You smiled, small and pleased, and Sunghoon had the strange feeling that he was seeing a piece of you that didn’t usually show itself anywhere else. Not at the apartment, not at the store, not when you were quietly making tea or sitting beside him on the sofa. 

The woman finished tying the bouquet and pressed it into your hands with the kind of care that felt almost maternal. “There. These suit you better than the tulips would anyway.”

You looked down at the flowers, then up at her with a soft smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she said immediately, as if the thanks were unnecessary. “And don’t wait so long before coming again. Your face looks tired.”

“Ajumma,” you said again, but this time it was gentler.

She only waved you off. “Go home, eat properly, and come back soon."

“I will,” you promised.

Then the two of you stepped back outside, the flowers held carefully against your chest while Sunghoon adjusted the grocery bags again. You glanced down at the bouquet, then up at him, and there was a small smile pulling at your mouth.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Sunghoon had just finished mixing his protein shake when he heard keys jingle and the front door swing open.

He frowned, setting the shaker bottle down. You weren’t supposed to be home yet. It wasn’t even 4 p.m. Had your class ended early? 

Still, he greeted you out of habit. “Hey, Y/N–”

But the person standing in the doorway was definitely not you.

Sunghoon froze. The guy in the doorway froze, too.

For a long second, they just stared at each other, equally confused.

Sunghoon slowly lowered his shaker bottle. Who the hell–

“Uh…” the guy started, blinking a few times like he was trying to process the situation. Then, he pointed at Sunghoon. “You’re not Y/N.”

“No,” Sunghoon said flatly. “I’m not.”

The guy frowned, his head tilting slightly. “Then… who are you?”

Sunghoon crossed his arms. “I live here. Who are you?”

The guy’s face shifted as realisation dawned on him. His confusion melted into something amused.

“Oh,” he said, dragging out the word. Then, he grinned and stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. “I’m Donghyuck. Nice to meet you.”

Oh.

Oh.

Wait.

Donghyuck, as in your boyfriend Donghyuck?

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked toward the fridge before he could stop himself. The slightly curled postcard from Busan hung beside a few photos he had found himself staring at more than once in the past month. Donghyuck was in a lot of them. Always close to you, arms slung around your shoulders, laughing together.

Sunghoon quickly cleared his throat. “Nice to meet you, Donghyuck. I’m Sunghoon.”

Donghyuck hummed, already toeing off his sneakers. “Is Y/N still at class?” He dropped his bag by the door and strolled toward the kitchen.

Sunghoon, still trying to wrap his head around what was happening, hesitated before answering. “Uh… yeah? She usually gets home around 4:30. Sometimes a bit earlier.”

Donghyuck nodded, completely unfazed. “Alright, cool.”

Then, like it was the most normal thing in the world, he reached into a cabinet, pulled out a glass, and filled it with water.

“How long have the two of you been together?”

Sunghoon nearly choked on air.

“What?” He spun around so fast that he nearly knocked over his protein shake.

Donghyuck just shrugged, sipping his water like this was a completely normal conversation. “Y/N didn’t tell me she was seeing someone. Or, well… seeing someone seriously enough to let him move in with her.”

Sunghoon’s brain stalled. What. The. Hell.

“I hope it’s been at least half a year and you didn’t just sweet-talk her into letting you move in after, like, two months.” Donghyuck narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Why–why would I be Y/N’s boyfriend?” Sunghoon blurted.

Isn’t Donghyuck the boyfriend?! What was happening?

The other gave him a look. “Dude,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You literally just said you live here.”

“Yeah, because I’m her roommate,” Sunghoon said, still trying to process this conversation. “I pay rent and shit to be here.”

Donghyuck blinked. “Wait. You’re her roommate?”

“Yes.” Sunghoon gestured vaguely at the apartment. “What else would I be?”

Donghyuck tilted his head, considering. Then he shrugged. “I dunno, her boyfriend?”

Sunghoon let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples. “Dude, I thought you were her boyfriend.”

Donghyuck burst out laughing.

“Me?” He pointed at himself, looking genuinely amused. “Oh, nah.” He shook his head, still grinning. “I’m her brother.”

Sunghoon’s brain short-circuited.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

Brother.

Oh. Okay.

Now that he really looked, Donghyuck did have similar features to you. 

Your brother just grinned, clearly entertained by the situation. “Damn, you really thought we were dating? Siblings dating seems pretty weird, doesn’t it, Sunghoon?”

Sunghoon groaned, leaning against the counter. “I didn’t–”

Donghyuck cackled.

Before Sunghoon could come up with something to say, the front door suddenly swung open again.

“Oh my god,” your voice rang through the apartment, full of surprise and excitement. “Hyuck?!”

Sunghoon turned his head just in time to see you practically launch yourself at your brother. Donghyuck barely had time to put down his glass before you crashed into him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming! I thought you were still at home!” You grinned up at him, eyes shining.

Donghyuck ruffled your hair like it. “I wanted to surprise you. Taeyong packed you a snack box from home. Mom and Johnny’s Mom added some stuff too. You know, since you can’t come home.”

Your face lit up. “No way.”

Donghyuck smirked. “Way.”

Sunghoon, still leaning against the counter, just watched as you glowed with excitement.

But before he could fully process how different you looked right now, so happy, so genuinely overjoyed, Donghyuck turned to you with an easy grin.

“So…” He dragged out the word, eyes flicking between you and Sunghoon. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?”

Your expression twisted in confusion. “What?”

Donghyuck jerked his thumb toward Sunghoon. “You didn’t tell me you were dating your roommate.”

You were silent for a beat. 

Then, your entire face went red.

Sunghoon could feel the heat radiating off you from where he stood.

“What?” you repeated, blinking rapidly.

Donghyuck just smirked, clearly enjoying this. “You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.” He gestured toward Sunghoon, who was just standing there like an idiot.

Your eyes darted towards him like you were expecting him to say something, but Sunghoon’s brain was still buffering.

Because all he could think about was how genuinely happy you had looked when you saw Donghyuck.

So expressive. So open.

The way your face had lit up, the way your voice had lifted into something bright and completely unfiltered. It was cute. And, selfishly, Sunghoon wondered why.

Why did you always hold back a little around him? The small, bashful smiles, the careful responses. Was he that intimidating? He was trying so hard to get to know you, to be a good roommate who would turn into a friend. 

“We’re not dating.” Sunghoon finally managed, his voice a little more rushed than intended. “I’m just her roommate.”

You exhaled, pressing your hands to your very red cheeks. “Yes. He’s my roommate.”

Donghyuck raised a brow, clearly not convinced.

“Right,” he said slowly, crossing his arms. “So you just let random guys move in with you now?”

“I didn’t–it’s not–,” You groaned. “It’s a long story.”

Sunghoon, for some reason, felt the need to defend himself. “It’s not weird, okay? We barely even knew each other when I moved in. You don’t have to worry about us dating or anything.”

Donghyuck snorted. “That makes it sound so much worse.”

Sunghoon opened his mouth, then closed it. 

You groaned again, looking like you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. “Mr Kang is renting the second room to Sunghoon.”

“No way. Your studio?” Donghyuck asked and looked at Sunghoon as if he had personally had the intention to steal your studio from you. 

“Yeah. It’s all right, though. I always knew he could rent it out to someone who will show up,” you leaned against the counter next to Donghyuck. 

Donghyuck was still looking at Sunghoon, but his facial expression had changed from accusation to something that looked like interest.

“Anyway,” he said, focusing back on you, “Do you wanna open the package? I am praying that Johnny put in some of those dope cookies from the bakery under his office. If he did, I am claiming one-half.”

At that, your face brightened again, and Sunghoon caught himself watching the shift in your expression again. 

The way your eyes widened, the slight bounce in your stance, the way you leaned in just a little closer to Donghyuck.

Your brother unzipped the bag and pulled out a medium-sized cardboard box, setting it on the counter with a slight thud.

Your hands were already on the tape, peeling it open. “You had four weeks to eat the cookies from ppangjib. You get one. Or maybe two."

Donghyuck grinned. “Deal.”

Sunghoon, though still a little confused by the whole situation, couldn’t help but glance into the box as you pulled back the flaps. Inside were neatly packed bags of homemade snacks, a few small wrapped gifts, and a handwritten letter sitting on top.

You immediately grabbed the letter, unfolding it with the kind of excitement that was usually reserved for kids on Christmas morning.

While you skimmed it, Donghyuck reached into the box and pulled out a small bag of yakgwa, grinning. “Oh, sick. Mom made you some yakgwa.”

“No way.” You grabbed the bag from him, grinning just as wide.

Sunghoon glanced at the clock hanging above the kitchen door. 

Shit.

He had to get to training.

With a sigh, he grabbed his shaker bottle and slung his bag over his shoulder. 

“I gotta head out.” 

You looked up from the letter. "Oh, right! You have training tonight.”

He nodded, shifting his bag higher on his shoulder. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to eat something later, or will you eat somewhere else?” Your eyes were sparkling when you looked at him, and Sunghoon had to suddenly swallow dryly before being able to answer. 

“I’ll eat with the others, thank you, Y/N." He nodded at your brother. “Nice to meet you, Donghyuck. Have a nice evening, you two.”

Donghyuck, already chewing on a piece of yakgwa, gave him a lazy salute. “Have fun, man.”

Sunghoon huffed a small laugh before turning toward the door. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The bus stop was already fuller than you had hoped for.

You slowed when you got close, eyes briefly flicking over the small crowd waiting in the rain. Uni had already been enough on its own, and the thought of standing around in the wet for the next ten minutes did not exactly improve your mood.

With a sigh, you lined up behind a girl who was fully immersed in her phone, not looking up even when the line moved forward slightly. 

“Y/N?”

You turned and found Sunghoon a few steps away, looking just as exhausted as you felt.

“Oh,” you said, a little flatly before you could stop yourself. “Hi.”

He gave you a small smile and stepped closer, shielding you from the rain by holding his umbrella over your head. For a second, neither of you said anything.

It was not exactly awkward in a bad way. 

Just quiet. 

Sunghoon glanced at you once before looking back at the road. “You got work later?”

You nodded, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder. “Yeah.”

He hummed. “Do you want me to cook then?”

That made you look at him. “You can if you want to?”

He shrugged. “Sure. I’ve wanted to try out a dish Wonyoung recommended. She’s been hyping it up for weeks now.”

“Wonyoung?” You asked, trying not to sound too curious. Sunghoon often talked about one of his girl space friends, but this was the first time he had mentioned a name. 

“She’s one of the skaters I train with, and she’s pretty strict about her diet and eating healthy. She’s also the one that recommended the oatmeal I made you buy,” Sunghoon hummed and gave you a small smile. “Yours is empty, right? I’m gonna go grocery shopping before cooking. I could buy you some before you run out?”

“Oh,” you blinked once, a little caught off guard by how normal that sounded now. Apparently that was just what you were doing these days. Just cooking and buying groceries together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Yeah,” you said after a second, and then, a little quieter, “Thanks.”

He only nodded, like it was no big deal.

When the bus finally came, the two of you ended up standing through most of the ride, holding onto the railings and swaying slightly whenever the bus turned. 

By the time your stop came up, you were both more than ready to get off.

The walk back to the apartment was quiet at first, Sunghoon holding his umbrella above both your heads, trying his best to keep you dry. 

After a while, you glanced over at him. “How was your day?”

Sunghoon let out a small, humourless breath through his nose before answering. “Shit, honestly.”

You looked at him a little more closely. “Really?”

He nodded once, jaw tightening slightly. “This whole week’s been shit.”

You frowned. “Why?”

He looked ahead again and shrugged. “Coach is on my ass. Everything feels off. I don’t know how I’m supposed to get back on track for nationals at this point.”

His voice was flatter than usual, but there was frustration under it, thick enough that you could hear it anyway. He sounded genuinely upset, not just annoyed in the dramatic way he sometimes was when he complained about training.

You hesitated for a second, then said, “I’m sure you’ve been doing well.”

That got a quiet laugh out of him, though it did not sound amused. He shook his head slightly and looked over at you. “You haven’t seen me skate.”

You blinked, then shrugged one shoulder. “I know how much you train.”

He gave you a look at that, something tired and a little resigned in it. “Training a lot doesn’t mean I’m doing well.”

You frowned a little, looking down at the pavement as you walked. “Still. You’re probably doing better than you think.”

Sunghoon huffed again, but there was less edge to it now. “You know,” he said casually, “you should come to one of my competitions sometime.”

Your eyes flicked up to him. “Your competitions?”

“Yeah.” He nodded slightly. “There you could see me skate properly and then think about if I really am doing better than I think.”

You gave him a little smile. “I’ll think about it. I am sure you’re amazing on the ice, dear roommate.”

That made him smile, too.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The cold had come quickly this year, creeping into your apartment and into your room. 

You had spent your day at uni freezing and had been looking forward to just curling up on the sofa or your bed until you fell asleep. Sunghoon had picked up training for his competition, so it was almost rare that you got to see him during the evenings, but today he had been at home when you opened the front door. 

He was studying at the kitchen table, his hair held up by one of his hair bands and a thick pair of glasses on his nose. 

“Hi,” you greeted him, peeling your boots off your feet with your fingers stiff from the cold. 

“Hello, Y/N,” he gave you a tired look, glancing up from his iPad.

“Don’t you have training today?” Your coat was wet from the rain, so you spread it over one of the kitchen chairs to dry before dropping your bag on top of it. 

Sunghoon sighed and shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “They are doing some checks with the building, and we aren’t allowed inside, so no.”

“Oh,” you hummed, moving into the kitchen to heat up some water. “You don’t sound happy about that?” 

He huffed and shrugged. “I wanted to train today. I still feel like shit about not being able to land my combo when I was able to before the summer break. I was off the ice for like two weeks, and it’s just gone.” 

“Because of the break?” 

"Yeah." Sunghoon nodded and watched as you got out your favourite mug. “That happens sometimes and is super annoying. If you lose a jump, you usually need double the time to relearn it again.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to get it again?” 

Sunghoon shrugged again and let his head fall against the wall with a soft thud. “Yeah, it will just take time.” 

You hummed and watched the kettle rattle as it brought the water for your tea to a boil. 

"Y/N", he lifted his head, “a few of my friends want to come over and check out the apartment. Is that fine with you? I know you’ve got work tomorrow, but I promise we’ll keep it down when you want to head to bed.”

You smiled, the question barely making you think. “Oh, that's not a problem, Sunghoon. You live here, too. It’s not like I’m going to stop you from having friends over.” 

He relaxed at your response, the tension in his posture easing as he gave a small, appreciative nod. “Thanks,” he said, looking genuinely relieved. “I’ll let them know we’ll keep it low-key.”

You nodded, offering a small smile. “No worries. You do you.” Then, as an afterthought, you added, “Just don’t be too loud around midnight. I haven’t really had parties here, so I don’t know if our neighbours are cool with noise or not?”

He chuckled again. “Yeah, I’ll try to make sure it doesn’t happen.” He glanced over his shoulder, then back at you. “You can come hang out later. If you want to. We’re gonna order pizza. I know you don’t do lactose or gluten, but if you want a piece just…you know join us?”

You nodded in acknowledgement, giving him a small wave. “Ah. Uhm. Thanks. But I think I’m good. I’ll go to sleep soon anyway.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

You did, in fact, not go to sleep soon. 

It was almost eleven, and you were still reading, curled up in your duvet, a low light illuminating the room slightly. Your stomach had started growling a while back, and the more you tried to ignore it, the more urgent your hunger got. 

With a long and annoyed sigh, you kicked the duvet off and begrudgingly put your book away before you stood up from your bed. 

You hesitated for a moment when you reached your door. 

Sunghoon and his friends were in the living room, playing something on the switch Sunghoon had brought with him when he moved in, so you would have to pass by them if you wanted to get to the kitchen.

You were wearing a pair of loose joggers and one of your brother's hoodies that he forgot at your apartment that you never bothered to return, so you were definitely not dressed for guests, let alone Sunghoon’s friends. But your stomach growled again, making you push the handle down and step into the hallway. 

The laughter grew louder the closer you got to the living room. As soon as you entered, four pairs of eyes turned to look at you.

“Oh, hey!” one of them greeted you, giving you a smile, while his car came to a stop. “You must be Y/N.”

“Oh, uh–hi,” you said, your voice coming out slightly too high.

Sunghoon grinned at you. “This is Jay, Heeseung, and Jake,” he said, nodding toward each of them. “Guys, this is Y/N.”

Heeseung leaned back against the couch, abandoning his character as well. “Dude, your apartment is so nice,” he said. “Did you decorate it by yourself?”

You blinked. “Uh–what?”

“The apartment,” he repeated, still smiling. “It looks really good.”

“Oh! Um–yeah, I did?” You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, shifting awkwardly. “I mean, I just… put some things together. I like interior stuff, so…”

“Man, Sunghoon lucked out,” Jay said, shaking his head. “My first roommate had, like, one folding chair and a mattress on the floor.”

“Hey!?” Heeseung said and turned to Jay, “I was your first roommate?”

“Yeah. And we have been living in our dorm for 3 years now. The only reason why we have a decent apartment now is that your mom insisted on helping decorate it,” Jay deadpanned. “And the main piece of decoration in your room is your keyboard shrine.” 

Jake and Sunghoon snorted while Heeseung tried to defend himself: ”I asked her for help because you wouldn’t stop complaining, you stupid piece of shit.”

“See, I am really happy to have Y/N as my roommate. She has rugs and decorations. And a normal amount of keyboards.” Sunghoon grinned at you. “She is even painting the paintings to fit the vibe of our apartment.” 

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide with betrayal. He just grinned.

“Did you paint all of them?” Jay asked, nodding toward the kitchen.

You hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Yeah. Mostly last summer.”

“Damn,” Jake said, shaking his head. “That’s sick. I can barely draw a stick figure.”

You let out a small, awkward laugh. “Thank you.”

Before you could recover, Sunghoon gestured toward the pizza box. “Are you hungry? We ordered way too much.”

“Oh–no, no, it’s fine,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I was just going to warm up something from the fridge.”

He just raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“I swear this is so much, and we are all supposed to watch over our diets. You’d be doing a good thing by eating a slice or two,” Jake said before stealing a gummy bear from Jay.

“Maybe just one slice?” You mumbled.

Jake’s smile widened. “Sure, take as many as you want.”

He slid a plate toward you, and you shuffled over, still feeling painfully awkward. You perched on the arm of the couch next to Sunghoon, back stiff.

Your roommate glanced up at you, giving you a smile. “Have you finished your book?”

You hummed and took the plate Jake offered you, shaking your head. “Thank you, Jake. Almost? I need like three or four chapters. I’ll definitely finish it today.” 

“So you’re going to read your vampire book?” Sunghoon teased. He had read the back of it and had been making fun of you ever since. 

“No,” you took a bite and swallowed before continuing, watching the TV as they started another round of Mario Kart. “I’ll be waiting until Halloween. I have the morning shift, so I’ll have the whole evening to finish it.” 

“Are you not gonna party on Halloween?” Heeseung asked, not taking his eyes from the TV. 

You frowned, shrugging. “Not really? I’ve not been invited to any parties? And aside from that, I’m not really someone who goes to parties.” 

“You’re just using that as an excuse to stay in bed to read your vampire steamy book, or what did you call it?” Sunghoon teased again, nudging your thigh with his shoulder. “I never thought you’d be one of those girls, Y/N.”

You felt heat rushing up your neck, your cheeks flushing, but before you could defend yourself, Jay already came to your aid. 

ne,” he glanced at Sunghoon and regretted it mere seconds after, driving off the road. “Fuck.”

“I’m not even doing anything,” your roommate grinned.

Your stomach dropped at the words.

It was stupid, really. 

He had only been teasing. 

You knew that, but somehow it felt weird.

Your fingers tightened around the edge of the plate, and forced a small laugh through your nose before you looked back at the TV. 

It was suddenly too loud in the room, too warm, too bright. 

You could feel your pulse in your throat, fast and annoying, and every second that passed made you more aware of yourself.

Sunghoon shifted beside you.

He must have noticed the change in your mood, because when you glanced at him for half a second, he was already looking at you. 

Not teasing, just watching. 

His expression softened the moment he saw your face.

You looked away instantly.

No. No, it was fine. It was nothing.

He didn’t say anything right away, but the apology in his eyes was obvious enough that it made your chest tighten worse. He probably realised he had pushed too far.

It was all right. Nothing had happened; he didn’t mean it in a bad way. 

You took another bite of pizza just so you would have something to do with your mouth, but it didn’t help. Not even a little. Your stomach felt weirdly hollow and too full at the same time, and you kept your face angled toward the TV while your entire body screamed at you to get up and leave before you embarrassed yourself any further.

Heeseung glanced between you and Sunghoon, clearly catching something in the air. For a second, the room went a little quieter, the game noises continuing in the background.

Then Heeseung spoke.

“Actually,” he said, a little more carefully now, “do you maybe want to give partying one more try?”

You looked over at him, caught off guard.

His expression was gentle, not pushy. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. “I mean, instead of spending Halloween alone reading by yourself.”

Your mouth opened, then closed again.

“There’s gonna be a big Halloween party hosted by the swimmers,” Jake said from the floor, spinning his controller between his fingers. “You could come. If you don’t want to go alone, you can bring a friend too. Just tell the guards we invited you; they’ll know.”

You blinked at that. “A friend?”

He nodded. “Sure. If that makes it less weird.”

“Or safer,” Jay added, not looking at you but clearly trying to help in the least aggressive way possible. “Whatever works.”

You glanced down at your plate, your fingers suddenly very aware around the rim. The room was still buzzing with the game, but your pulse had not slowed.

You forced your shoulders to stay loose.

“I don’t know,” you said, and tried very hard for the words to sound normal. “I’m just… not really into parties.”

Jake nodded immediately, as he understood. “That’s fair.”

“But,” Heeseung said, still soft, “you don’t have to be into parties to come to one once.”

You hesitated.

“I haven’t been to one in forever,” you admitted, which was worse than saying no because now it sounded like a confession.

Jake’s face brightened a little, not in a mocking way, more like he had heard a challenge he wanted to win. “Then it’s definitely time.”

“No pressure,” Heeseung added quickly when you didn’t answer right away. “Seriously. But if you want to try it, we’ll look out for you.”

Jake leaned back and grinned at you. “Think about it, yeah?”

You nodded once.

Heeseung smiled, gentler than before. “And seriously, you can bring a friend if you want. No pressure.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Except that it was pressure, and you couldn't stop thinking about it. 

So the next day, Jaemin immediately noticed that something was off the second you clocked in. “Okay, spill.”

You frowned, wrapping your apron around your waist. “What?”

“You look weird. A bit constipated. What are you thinking so deeply about? 

You hesitated, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “It’s nothing.”

Jaemin narrowed his eyes. “Liar.”

You exhaled, already knowing you weren’t going to get away with it. “Sunghoon’s friends came over last night.”

His eyebrows shot up. “The hockey players?”

You blinked, surprised. “How did you know?”

At the same time, you weren’t really surprised. Jaemin had a way of knowing everything and everyone. He was the definition of a social butterfly.

“Just a gut feeling", he grinned. “Tell me more.”

You sighed, opening the door towards the main room of the cinema. “It wasn’t a big deal. They just came over to see the apartment and hang out with Sunghoon. I ran into them when I went to the kitchen.”

“And?” Jaemin prompted, eyes gleaming with interest. 

“And… they were nice,” you admitted. “They complimented the apartment and–” you hesitated, then added reluctantly, “my paintings.”

Jaemin gasped dramatically. “The beautiful paintings that are all over your apartment that everyone compliments? No way!”

You rolled your eyes. “Jaemin.”

“What? Am I lying?” he shrugged, grinning at you.

You groaned, covering your face. “Can you leave me alone?”

Jaemin cackled. “No.”

You shot him a glare. “I hate you.”

“You don’t. In fact, you love me enough to schedule your shift so they’d clash with mine and we have even more time to hang out," he said, waving a hand. “So what happened afterwards? Just meeting them wouldn’t make you this thoughtful.”

You hesitated for a moment before saying, “They… invited me to their Halloween party.”

Jaemin froze.

His expression went from shocked to utterly gobsmacked in less than a second. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“Wait, like, the swimmers' Halloween party?”

“I think?”

He gawked at you. “You think? Y/N, do you even realise how exclusive those are?” He leaned in. “You have to know people to get in or be important enough to be invited.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I guess… I know people now?”

Jaemin smacked your arm lightly. “Oh my god, this is huge.”

“It’s really not. They even offered that I could bring a friend.”

“Oh, my god.” He placed a hand over his heart. “You have to take me with you.”

You groaned. “Jaemin–”

“Please.” His eyes widened. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. We’d be insane not to go.”

You chewed on your lip. “I don’t know… I feel like I’d just be awkward.”

Jaemin softened slightly. “You might. But you might also have fun.”

You sighed.

“If you feel uncomfortable, I’ll leave with you,” he promised. “I swear.”

You hesitated before finally mumbling, “I’ll think about it.”

Jaemin beamed. “That’s all I needed to hear. We’re going,” he said, gripping your wrist.

You groaned. “Jaemin.”

“Please.” His eyes widened dramatically. “Do you even understand what this means? This is like–like being invited to the Met Gala of frat parties.”

You gave him a look. “You are so dramatic.”

“Am I?” He scoffed. “Y/N, do you realise how hard it is to get into one of these? And you got invited. You!” He clutched his chest like he was about to faint.

You shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Jaemin’s jaw dropped. “Not that big of a deal? Y/N, if I had even breathed in the direction of these parties before, I would’ve been escorted out.”

You bit your lip, hesitating. If not even Jaemin had been invited to one of these parties, they probably were a big thing. Johnny was always talking about how he enjoyed going to parties. You loved hearing his and Taeyong's stories every time they came home. 

They did romanticise uni life a bit in your opinion. 

Or maybe you were just doing something wrong. 

Maybe you could try going to that party.  

Jaemin's face softened slightly. “Look,” he said, “I get it. Big parties aren’t your thing. And, yeah, it might be overwhelming at first. But, Y/N, you deserve to have fun.”

“I do have fun,” you muttered.

Jaemin gave you a knowing look. “Working, studying, and just being in your apartment alone all the time doesn’t count.”

You sighed.

“If you don’t like it, we’ll leave,” he promised. “I swear. I won’t ditch you. But at least try.”

You hesitated, staring at the counter, before finally mumbling, “…Fine. I’ll think about it.”

Jaemin grinned as he had already won. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Pushing open the door to your apartment felt like trying to push an elephant out of the way. Your arms were heavy, your brain was pulsing against your skull, and your eyes threatened to fall closed any second now. Somehow your shift at the cinema had been horrible today; it had been loud and hot and entirely overwhelming, so the only thing you wanted to do was to sleep.

But today was Halloween, and you had promised Jaemin and Sunghoon you would go to that stupid party. 

Part of you, a very loud and insistent part of you, wanted to just cancel, tell them that you were too exhausted to go, that you were having a migraine, but another part wanted to go, almost desperately. 

You knew they were right, Johnny, Taeyong, Jaemin, hell, even Sunghoon and his friends. You should try going out more, living life, meeting people, and experiencing things you would usually avoid; it was part of growing up, of living. 

But it was hard. You hated crowds, you hated parties, and you hated being perceived, and that Halloween party would definitely get you to be perceived, especially with your stupid costume.

Somehow Sunghoon and Jaemin, who had almost immediately started forming a coalition against you as soon as you introduced them, convinced you to dress up as one of the puppets from Squid Game. 

With a sigh, you peeled off your shoes and made a beeline straight to your room, shutting the door quietly behind you. As soon as your head hit the pillow, you let out a long sigh and closed your eyes, hoping you would feel better after a nap.

About two hours later, you reluctantly pulled yourself out of bed. Your head was still heavy, a constant throb beneath your temples. 

You could feel your nerves creeping up as you walked out of your room, rubbing your eyes.

“Hey, Sunghoon.” 

Your roommate was standing in the bathroom, the door open, as he styled his hair in the mirror. 

He flinched at your voice, and his eyes flickered to your figure standing in the doorway. “Hi, Y/N. Are you good? You look tired.”

You hummed, leaning against the wooden frame. “My head is pounding. I think I have a migraine coming.”

Sunghon frowned, turning around to look at you properly. “Do you want to eat? Maybe it will get better if you get some food into your system."

“I’ve eaten,” you said, pursing your lips and shrugging. “Jaemin and I ate bibimbap during our lunch break, so my stomach is still pretty full, but I think I’ll take an ibuprofen. Sometimes it helps with the migraines.”

“It has been a while since you had your last one," Sunghoon stated, pushing away from the sink, moving towards and past you into the hallway. “Do you think you’ll be able to go to the party? If you’re not feeling well, you should stay home, Y/N.”

“No, it’s fine. Maybe I'll just leave earlier?”

"Sure, that’s no worries." He moved towards his room before coming back, holding up white face paint. You smiled, though it was still a little tight around the edges. Sunghoon caught your glance and, after a moment of silence, his expression softened into something more reassuring. 

“Come on, it’s going to be okay, yeah? We’ll get there, and we’ll just hang out. You’ll be alright, I promise.”

You gave a reluctant nod, grateful for his words. You stretched out, trying to shake off the drowsiness, and took a deep breath. "Okay."

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The moment you stepped into the house, the overwhelming mix of loud music, sweaty bodies, and flashing lights hit you all at once. The air smelled like alcohol, something vaguely fruity, and whatever cologne the guy who just stumbled past you had drenched himself in.

You were already regretting this.

You had been holding it together on the walk over, but now that you were actually inside, the migraine that had been sitting at the edge of your skull all evening seemed to sharpen all at once. The lights flashing across the room made your eyes sting, and the noise in your ears felt like it was pressing in from every direction.

Sunghoon was right beside you, guiding you deeper into the house with a hand hovering near your back so you didn’t lose him in the crowd. You kept your arms close to your body and did your best not to brush against anyone.

Before you could fully orient yourself, a voice cut through the music.

“Y/N!”

You barely had time to turn before Jake came crashing into you, arms thrown around your middle in a hug that was far too enthusiastic for your current state. You froze immediately.

Everything in you tensed.

Your arms stayed awkwardly at your sides while he rocked you a little, laughing into your shoulder.

“Oh my God,” he slurred happily. “I knew you’d come! I told Sunghoon you were gonna come!”

You stared past him, looking for Sunghoon without even meaning to.

He was standing a few steps away, arms crossed, watching the whole thing with a grin that was way too amused. You glared at him in silent betrayal.

He only smiled wider.

Hesitantly, you lifted one hand and gave Jake a few awkward pats on the back. He seemed delighted by that and finally let go.

Jay appeared a second later. He didn’t tackle you, thankfully. He just gave you a quick half-hug.

“Glad you came,” he said, easy and warm.

You managed a small nod.

“Uh. Yeah,” you said faintly. “Thanks.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Sunghoon was leaning against the sofa, half-listening to Jay argue with Jake about their next beer pong shot. His own cup sat untouched beside him. 

He was pacing himself, knowing he had practice tomorrow. 

His coach was already on him for falling last week, so he didn’t want to even try his luck and skate hungover. The music thumped through the house, bass vibrating beneath his feet, and the heat of too many bodies in a small space was starting to get to him.

If he was completely honest, parties weren’t his thing either. Sure, he’d come along if he got invited, and it was fun most of the time, but he wasn’t as crazy as his friends. He didn’t understand how the hockey players were doing all of this after every game; his coach would kill him if he knew Sunghoon was drinking.

Sunghoon glanced over the table, watching you and Jaemin talk to a small group of baseball players. 

He knew some of them from other parties or sports events but never really got around to getting to know any of them closely. 

He watched as one of them, a little taller than the rest, leaned in slightly while talking to you.

Sunghoon wasn’t sure why, but something about it made his jaw tighten as he saw you taking a slight step back, your smile reverting back to the small, reserved ones you always had when you were uncomfortable or felt especially shy. 

He hadn’t seen that in quite a while now, but it hadn’t left your face all evening.

The way you moved and glanced around made it clear that you weren’t too happy with the situation, and Sunghoon felt guilty. He knew he should have convinced you to stay at home when he saw you step out of your room, your face pale and your hair flattened from your nap. He knew you wouldn’t like being here, and he was sure the sound and the stuffy air inside the house weren’t helping your migraine get any better.

Sunghoon exhaled sharply, setting his cup down on the beerping table with a soft thud. He didn’t know if he was overthinking things, but he did promise you to help you out if you needed an out. So he slowly started making his way toward you. Sunghoon had barely taken a step toward you when a firm hand landed on his shoulder.

“Park,” a familiar voice drawled.

He turned to see Hyunjin, one of the more senior skaters. Despite the loud music and chaotic energy of the party, Hyunjin looked as relaxed as ever, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

“Haven’t seen you drink much,” Hyunjin noted, tilting his own half-empty cup toward Sunghoon. “You’re really out here being responsible?”

Sunghoon snorted. “Some of us have practice tomorrow.”

Hyunjin laughed, shaking his head. “Well, some were clever enough to tell Coach that they wouldn’t come tomorrow so they can drink.”

Sunghoon hummed in agreement, but his attention was already elsewhere. You seemed to suddenly have let loose, your shoulders sagging as you giggled, you giggled, at something the baseball player said. In the one and a half months that he had been living together with you, he never saw you giggle; laugh, sure, but giggle, never. 

He shifted his weight, keeping one ear on whatever Hyunjin was saying while his eyes flickered back to you.

Hyunjin snapped his fingers in front of Sunghoon’s face. “Hello? Are you even listening?”

Sunghoon blinked, forcing himself to focus. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “You good?”

Sunghoon‘s eyes flickered back to you. „Yeah,“ he started, moving, patting Hyunjin's shoulder. „You know what, I’ll be back in a second.“

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The music thudded in your chest, vibrating through your bones. Your head was pounding, your vision blurry, and there was a weird, giddy sensation bubbling up in you.

 You tried to concentrate on his words, but the pounding in your head was intensifying, and you couldn’t grasp a clear thought; everything felt mulled over. It wasn’t unusual for you to get a migraine, especially with the noise and lights in a place like this, but this was different. It felt like your mouth was moving without you even thinking about it when you were answering whatever question Injang just asked.

“So, Y/N, do you have any plans for tomorrow? You know there’s an after-Halloween party for those who couldn’t come today,” he grinned at you, leaning in slightly, his voice a little too loud to make it easy to follow.

You could feel his eyes on you, more intent than necessary. “Um. I have to–I have to study? I can’t party.”

“Oh really? Jaemin mentioned you’re into architecture? It’s probably really hard. Especially for a pretty girl like you, right?" He said, his grin widening. 

You nodded, and the room tilted for a second. 

You blinked hard. 

That wasn’t normal. Your migraines were awful, but they didn’t usually make your body feel this heavy.

“I–I don’t know, maybe?” you replied, your voice trailing off.

„Oh, but I‘m sure you‘re doing a good job, sweetheart.“ 

Somewhere in the back of your brain, you registered the condescending tone he was using, that he was making fun of you, but somehow your thoughts felt detached from everything else. 

They were slow, fuzzy, and your vision started to swim a little as you tried your best to stay nice and polite and look at Injang while he was talking to you. 

Maybe you should have eaten more or drunk more water. 

“Hey, Y/N, you’re okay? You seemed a little drunk." he was suddenly standing closer to you, the heat radiating from his body making your body feel even more uncomfortable. 

You blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the haze in your brain, but instead, the dizziness swirled, and the world started spinning around you.

“I... I’m fine,” you muttered, trying to reassure him, though you weren’t even sure you believed it. Your words were slurred, and your eyelids felt heavy as you tried to shake your head. 

You couldn’t understand what was happening; the only thing you had been drinking all day was water. Why did you feel drunk all of a sudden? 

Injang kept leaning in, his hand brushing a few strands that came loose from the ponytail you had tied your hair in behind your ear, his smirk growing wider. You tried to focus on him, but it was hard to concentrate on anything other than the pressure in your skull and the odd sense of lightness in your limbs.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Don’t you want to drink some more of your water? I’m sure it will help," he asked again, leaning even closer, and you could feel his breath on your face. His voice sounded like it was echoing from far away. 

“I... yeah,” your hands almost automatically guided your cup to your mouth; maybe he was right, and water would help. “I’m just–I’m just a little tired, y’know? I think–I think I should go to my roommate?” 

You glanced towards where you knew Sunghoon was standing, not seeing anything besides the stobling lights flickering over your blurry vision. Your legs felt unsteady, as though they weren’t entirely yours, when you tried to push past the baseball player. 

You could hardly keep your balance, and the noise became so much louder, as if it were vibrating inside your skull. You placed a hand on the wall for support, just trying to stay on your feet. 

The room was spinning, and you tried to focus, to remember where the kitchen was, where you were, but it felt like you had to move through molasses. 

Injang's hands were on you again, and this time it wasn’t just a touch. He was almost painfully gripping your waist, pulling you back. You tried to tug away, but your body wasn’t listening.

“Hey, I’m just trying to help you out, alright? Just let me get you outside; I’m sure some fresh air would help.” Injang’s voice was thick now, too close for comfort. 

His touch sent panic through you.

You couldn’t go outside with him; you shouldn’t. Everything felt wrong.

You knew you needed to get away from him, but every part of you felt so heavy, and your movements weren’t your own. 

You were trapped in this slow, sluggish fog.

"Seriously, Y/N, you're so cute," he continued, stepping even closer until you could feel the heat of his body at your back. "I’m just worried about you. You sure you’re not feeling anything... weird?" 

You flinched, trying to pull away, but he kept his grip, his fingers brushing down to your waist in a way that made you feel exposed and uncomfortable. “Come on baby, don't be shy. It's just a party. We’re just having fun, right?”

You tried again to shake him off, to get awy, but your hands wouldn’t cooperate.

Noise drung through he fog, it semed like someone was fighting, but you weren’t sure. They were muffled and you couldn’t understand what they were saying. 

The next thing you knew, there was a quick movement and Injang’s hand left your waist. 

Without his additional support, your knees buckled underneath your weight and the world tilted, before everything went black. 

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The second you collapsed, it was like time stopped. 

Sunghoon watched how Injang let go of your body, trying to defend himself, saying something about wanting to get you some water. He watched the way you swayed and, finally, how your knees seemed to give up underneath your weight. 

He barely managed to catch you in time, feeling the weight of your body press into him as you fell limp in his arms. His heart slammed in his chest. 

"Y/N?" He shook you gently, then a bit harder when you didn’t respond. 

You felt like a rag doll, no resistance in your body as he went down to the floor, still trying to shake you awake. “Y/N, what’s going on? Wake up!”

Jaemin was suddenly kneeling next to him, helping him hold you up, keeping your head straight. 

“Oh my god," he gasped, his breath coming in short, shaky bursts. 

His eyes flickered between Sunghoon and you.

"What happened to her? What's wrong with her?" Jaemin’s voice was panicked. His gaze darted between your pale face and Sunghoon’s frantic movements. 

Sunghoon's mind raced as he tried to figure out what could have happened. “She had–”, he combed his hair back in a frantic movement with one hand. "She said she’s having a migraine. She took some painkillers. Has she been drinking?” Sunghoon's eyes flickered towards Jaemin's face, still holding your body in his arms. “Has she been drinking, Jaemin?” 

Jaemin shook his head, the panic in his face evident. “She didn’t. She only had water. There was nothing–we didn’t even do shots or anything. I–what's happening, Sunghoon? Has she been spiked? That has to be what's happened, right? She’s been spiked.” 

Sunghoon looked around the room, eyes searching for the guy who had been sticking so damn close to you earlier. His hands were shaking as he tried to make sense of the situation.

“Call 911,” Sunghoon mumbled before repeating it louder. “Call 911!”

“Jay’s on it, Sunghoon,” Jake’s voice came from behind him. He hadn’t even realised that Jay and Jake had followed him and were now standing behind him, his sole focus on you. “They said help is on the way.”

Sunghoon barely heard him.

All he could focus on was how limp you felt in his arms, how wrong it was that your body had gone so still so fast. He shifted you more carefully against him, his heart slamming so hard it made everything else feel distant and blurry. “Y/N,” he said again, lower this time, as he could somehow pull you back with his voice alone. “Come on. Wake up.”

You didn’t move.

“Where is that guy?” Sunghoon’s head snapped up. He couldn’t let that guy go; it had to have been him. You had nursed one cup of water Sunghoon had personally given you, and that guy had been dancing around you all evening. It had to have been him. 

“Jake, Jake, get that guy.” Sunghoon carefully moved your body, cradling you against his chest as he slowly stood up. “He can’t leave, do whatever is necessary. You’re a hockey player, you know how to throw punches.”

His friend looked between him and wherever the guy from just now had escaped towards. “I can’t just–”

“Yes, you can,” Sunghoon cut in, sharper now, eyes wild. “Do whatever you need to do to keep him there. He does not get to walk out.”

Jake opened his mouth again, then shut it when he saw the look on Sunghoon’s face. “Sunghoon–”

“Don’t,” Sunghoon said, more to keep himself from losing it than to silence Jake. “We have to keep him here until the police get him.”

He looked up at Jake again, anger and fear mixing into something almost unbearable. “Don’t let him go,” he repeated, voice rough. “If he moves, stop him.”

Jake’s expression tightened. “Let’s get Y/N out of here first. We’ll deal with Injang later, Sunghoon.”

“No. Get him now.”

That came out harsher than Sunghoon meant it to, but he didn’t know what to do if he escaped. His skin felt too hot, his pulse too fast, his hands shaking where they held you.

Jake stepped closer, one hand raised in a placating gesture. “Sunghoon, listen to me. Let’s get Y/N outside, let’s wait outside for the ambulance to come. We have enough witnesses to get Injang in trouble, okay?”

“What if he gets rid of the evidence?” Sunghoon shot back, eyes darting over the room again, searching for the guy who had been too close, too hands-on, too wrong. “He doesn’t get to do this and walk away as if nothing happened.”

“Sunghoon,” Jaemin said carefully, trying to get his attention, “we need to focus on Y/N right now.”

“I am focused on her.”

“No, you’re not! You’re focused on beating Injang senseless. Get her out of here.”

Sunghoon swallowed hard and forced himself to breathe once, then twice, but it did almost nothing. His chest was too tight, his hands were still shaking.

Then Jay appeared at the edge of the room, pushing through the crowd. “Ambulance is here,” he said quickly.

For a second, Sunghoon didn’t move.

Then his head snapped up. “Police?”

“On their way,” Jay said, voice clipped. “Let’s get Y/N outside.”

That finally broke through some of the haze. Sunghoon looked down at you again, still cradling you tightly, and his expression changed from furious to wrecked in the space of a breath. “Okay,” he said, though it sounded more like he was telling himself than anyone else. “Okay.”

He tightened his hold on you just a little and bent his head closer. “You’re okay,” he said, though it sounded like a promise he was trying to make true by force. “Help’s here. Just stay with me.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Sunghoon sat in the back of the taxi, gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. His mind was racing while his pulse was hammering in his ears as the city lights blurred past the window. His body moved on autopilot when the taxi finally pulled up in front of the hospital. He couldn't get the image of you collapsing out of his head, the way you crumpled to the floor, lifeless in his arms. He insisted on coming to the hospital but wanted Jaemin to be with you in the ambulance, just in case you woke up. 

The chances were low, but he didn’t want you to be with him. 

You barely knew each other. 

You did, technically, he would say; you’ve grown to be something like friends, but he was sure Jaemin was the better, the safer choice for you. 

He barely remembered paying the driver before rushing inside, the sterile scent of antiseptic and bright fluorescent lights making his head pound.

The waiting area was quiet except for the distant beeping of machines and the occasional murmur of nurses. It didn't take much of an effort to find Jaemin.

He was curled up in one of the plastic chairs, elbows resting on his knees, face buried in his hands. His shoulders were hunched, and when he looked up at Sunghoon, his eyes were bloodshot.

Sunghoon hesitated before stepping closer. "Any news?"

Jaemin shook his head, wiping at his face with his sleeve. His voice was hoarse. "She's stable, but she's not awake. They said they would send some of her blood to get checked for drugs." His breath hitched slightly. "But it’s gonna take a while until they get the results."

Sunghoon felt his stomach twist. Before he could say anything else, the doors to the waiting room swung open, and Donghyuck rushed in, wearing a vampire costume, his hair swept by the wind and the blood that belonged to the costume smeared across his lower face. 

His face was full of panic, darting from Jaemin to Sunghoon and back. "Where is she?"

Jaemin gestured toward the hallway leading to the ICU. "They're doing tests."

“Is she going to be okay? What did they say, Jaemin? Will she be okay?” Your brother shook Jaemin’s shoulders frantically.

Jaemin nodded, wrapping his hands around your brother’s arms. “She’ll be okay, Hyuck.”

A sob escaped your brother's lips, and he wrapped his arms around Jaemin, deflating against him, as a sob wracked through his body. 

Sunghoon had to avert his gaze for a second. 

He had never felt so helpless as when he was holding your lifeless body at that party, handing you over to the paramedic, watching you get loaded into the ambulance. 

He knew he probably should stay composed, stay focused, but he felt panic run through his veins, his heart still thumping loudly in his chest. 

 "I don't know what happened, Donghyuck,” Jaemin's voice was shaking as he was pressing Donghyuck against his chest. “She was fine. We were just hanging out, talking to some of the baseball guys I know, and then she… she just collapsed. She was just drinking water. She didn’t drink any–any alcohol."

Donghyuck shook his head, pushing himself away from your friend, wiping a tear from his eye. "It's okay, Jaemin, it's not your fault that this happened." 

A nurse approached them, and the attention of all three of the men snapped towards her. "Mr Lee?" 

"Yes," Donghyuck straightened up immediately.

“The doctors had a few additional questions regarding Y/N,” she said gently. “Have you spent the day with her? Would you know her condition before she fainted?” 

Donghyuck blinked at her, still breathing hard from crying, before he shook his head. "I didn't see her today."

The nurse glanced at Sunghoon and Jaemin. "What about either of you?"

“She’s had a migraine since this morning," Sunghoon cleared his throat. “She took painkillers earlier.”

The nurse’s gaze flicked toward him. “Do you know which painkillers?”

Sunghoon shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

The nurse hummed and made a note. “Did she eat anything with them? Any food or drink?”

“I don’t think so,” he frowned, trying to remember. "I don't think she ate dinner. She said she wasn't hungry because of the headache."

“Did she eat anything besides that?” The woman looked between the two of them

Jaemin straightened from his chair, rubbing at one of his eyes before answering. “Yeah. We had lunch at work, and she had snacks later too.”

“What did the two of you eat?” The woman looked at Jaemin expectantly. “Are you feeling unwell as well?”

“No? No, no, I’m okay, maybe a bit tipsy but like nothing besides that.” He went through his hair, bunching the pink strands together. “We ate bibimbap and mandu for lunch at like three pm.”

"Did she drink any alcohol?"

"No." Sunghoon’s answer came instantly, almost interrupting the nurse. "She only drank water."

"Any recreational drugs? Prescription medication besides the migraine tablets?"

"No."

The nurse looked between them all for a moment, then her eyes settled on Donghyuck again. “Mr Lee, would you like to come in and see her?”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Darkness. That was the first thing you noticed. Heavy, suffocating darkness clung to you like a thick fog, making it impossible to think, impossible to move. Then came the sound. Distant at first, like you were hearing everything from underwater. A rhythmic beeping. The faint hum of voices. Rubber soles moving across the floor. You tried to move, but your body refused to cooperate. Your fingers twitched slightly against the sheets, and a noise escaped your lips. The footsteps stopped. “Y/N?” You forced your eyes open. Harsh white light flooded your vision, sending a sharp pain through your skull. You squeezed them shut again with a faint whimper. “That’s okay,” the woman said, lowering her voice. “Take your time. You’re safe.” Something shifted beside you, followed by the quiet click of a switch. The light behind your eyelids softened. You tried again. This time, you managed to keep your eyes open, although everything remained blurred around the edges. A woman in dark blue scrubs stood beside the bed, one hand resting near the monitor to your left. “Can you hear me?” You gave the smallest nod, blinking at her. “Good. My name is Mina. I’m one of the nurses looking after you.” She leaned slightly closer. “Can you tell me your name?” Your lips felt dry and strangely numb when you answered. “Y/N L/N.” “And do you know where you are?” Your gaze drifted around the space. You noticed a pale curtain surrounding the bed you were lying on, thin wires disappearing beneath the blanket covering you, tape against the inside of your arm, holding an IV line in place. “Hospital,” you whispered. “That’s right.” The nurse gave you a reassuring smile before reaching for the blood-pressure cuff around your arm. “Do you know what day it is?” You stared at her, swallowing dryly when you realised you didn’t. You didn’t know what day it was. The question should have been easy, but your thoughts scattered the moment you reached for an answer. You remembered getting dressed. Sunghoon standing in the bathroom with white paint smeared across his face. The heat inside the party. Flashing lights. After that, there was only a blank stretch of nothing. Your answer came out as a whisper, as your throat tightened. “I don’t know.” “That’s okay.” Her voice remained gentle. “Do you remember what happened tonight?” You swallowed, your throat aching with the movement. “I went to a party.” “Anything after that?” You closed your eyes for a second, trying to push through the fog. You remembered music, someone talking to you, the room tilting beneath your feet. Then nothing. “No.” The nurse checked the monitor, then shone a small light briefly across each of your pupils. “Are you in pain?” “My head.” Your voice barely carried over the insistent beeping. “It hurts.” “On a scale from zero to ten?” You closed your eyes for a second, trying to gauge how painful the throbbing was, ignoring the feeling of panic flaring up in your chest. “Seven. Maybe. I get these migraines sometimes.” “And do you feel nauseous?” “A little.” She nodded and made a note on the chart beside the bed. “You were brought in after losing consciousness at a party. Your friends called an ambulance. Your vital signs are stable now, but you were very difficult to wake when you arrived, so we’ve been monitoring you closely.”

Your fingers tightened weakly around the blanket. “Why?” “We’re still waiting for some of the laboratory results,” she explained, smiling gently at you. “The doctors are concerned that you may have been given something without your knowledge. One of them will speak with you now that you’re awake.” Your stomach tightened. Before you could ask anything else, the curtain shifted, and a doctor stepped inside. He introduced himself, then repeated several of the nurse’s questions. Your name. Where you were. What you remembered. Whether you had consumed alcohol or taken any medication. “I took ibuprofen,” you murmured. “For a migraine.” “Anything else?” You shook your head carefully. “Did you drink alcohol tonight?” You blinked, trying your best to remember anything from the day before. “I…I don’t remember.” The doctor nodded, his expression serious but not alarmed. “Your initial blood work is reassuring. Your blood sugar and electrolyte levels are stable, and there are no immediate signs of a serious injury. We’re still waiting for the toxicology results, so I can’t tell you exactly what caused the loss of consciousness yet.” You stared at him, trying to follow every word despite the fog pressing against your thoughts. “Was I drugged?” “It’s a possibility,” he said carefully. “Your symptoms and the account provided by your friends are concerning for that, but we need the laboratory results before we can be more certain.” Your stomach twisted violently. You’ve gotten drugged. You went to that stupid party, and someone had mixed something into your water. You blinked at the doctor, your brain feeling weirdly blank all of a sudden. You’ve gotten drugged. “Your brother is waiting outside,” the nurse added softly. “Would you like us to bring him in?” Donghyuck. The thought of him sitting somewhere beyond the curtain made something inside you loosen and tighten at the same time. You nodded. The nurse disappeared through the curtain. A few moments later, hurried footsteps approached, slowing only when Donghyuck stepped into view. He was wearing part of a vampire costume. His dark shirt was wrinkled, and the fake blood around his mouth had smeared across one cheek. His eyes were swollen and red. The sight of him made your chest ache. “Hey,” he breathed. He crossed the space between you in two steps and reached for your hand, holding it carefully between both of his. “Hey, Bug.” You stared at him. “What happened?” His expression crumpled for half a second before he forced it back under control. “You collapsed at the party.” His thumbs moved nervously over your knuckles. “Jaemin came with you in the ambulance. They think someone put something in your drink.” Your stomach twisted. “My water?” “We don’t know yet.” The room felt strangely distant again. The monitor continued beeping beside you, steady and indifferent. Someone had put something in your water. You pulled in a shallow breath. “Where’s Jaemin?” “He’s outside.” Donghyuck glanced toward the curtain. “Sunghoon too. They’ve both been here the whole time.” “Can they come in?” Donghyuck studied your face for a moment. “Are you sure?” You nodded. He squeezed your hand before stepping out to speak with the nurse. A few minutes passed before the curtain opened again. Jaemin entered first.

His eyes were red-rimmed, and the moment he saw you awake, his hand flew to his mouth. He crossed the room quickly but stopped beside the bed as though he was afraid to touch you without permission. “Oh, my God.” You gave him a weak smile. “Hi.” His face twisted, and tears filled his eyes almost immediately. Behind him, Sunghoon stepped through the opening in the curtain. Most of his costume was gone, but traces of dark makeup remained around his eyes. His hair was dishevelled, and his face looked drained of everything except exhaustion. He stayed near the end of the bed rather than approaching. For several seconds, neither of you spoke. You looked at him, searching through the missing pieces of the night. “You caught me.” It came out more like a question than a statement. Sunghoon’s jaw tightened. “Yeah,” his voice was rough. “You scared the hell out of us.” The words were quiet, almost restrained, but something in his expression made your chest tighten. The nurse returned before anyone could say more. “I need to check her blood pressure again,” she said gently. “You can stay for a few minutes, but she needs rest, and the doctor will want to reassess her once the remaining results are available.” Donghyuck immediately shifted aside. Jaemin wiped quickly at his face. Sunghoon remained where he was, one hand resting against the metal rail at the end of the bed. The cuff tightened around your arm. You stared at the ceiling while the machine hummed, trying to understand how the night had gone from flashing lights and music to a hospital bed surrounded by three frightened faces. No matter how hard you tried, the space between those two moments remained completely empty. ⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔ The rest of the day passed in a blur. The hospital staff checked in on you frequently, making sure you were eating and drinking, and that the drug was fully leaving your system. Your body still felt sluggish, like moving through water, and your head pounded in a dull, persistent ache. By the time the evening rolled around, you were discharged with strict instructions to rest, stay hydrated, and come back if anything felt off. Donghyuck refused to let you go home alone, ignoring the fact that you wouldn’t be, that Sunghoon would be there with you and insisted on coming to your apartment. So Donghyuck, Sunghoon, and you settled into the couch in your living room, the TV casting a soft glow across the dimly lit living room. There was nothing particular you wanted to do or watch, everything feeling a bit over- and understimulating at the same time, but you knew your brother was worried. So you just let him pull you onto the sofa, opening Netflix and starting the first show that was on your recently watched list. You were looking at the TV, seeing the pictures, hearing the sounds, the music, the monologues, but you could barely focus on following the story. Your whole body still felt off, heavy, sluggish. Every movement required double the effort. It felt like there was a fog over everything, making it impossible to think too hard or even process what had happened. So you just sat there, curled up in the corner of the couch, wrapped in one of the throw blankets.

They had given you medication against the nausea, so you could eat at least a bit. Your stomach felt upset nonetheless, no matter how much you drank or shifted your position, so at one point you had just given up, slumping into the sofa, willing yourself to stay awake for at least the first episode of whatever you were watching. Donghyuck was chattering away, commenting on everything that was happening, even roping in Sunghoon into muttering a few comments here and there. At one point, your brother turned to you, seemingly wanting to see if you agreed with what he had just said. “Right, Y/N?” You blinked slowly, shifting your eyes to focus on his face instead of the TV. “Huh?” Donghyuck’s teasing expression faltered slightly, and his eyes softened. “Never mind,” he said gently. “Are you tired?” You nodded, barely holding back a yawn. Donghyuck reached for the remote, lowering the volume. “You should sleep. You’ve had a long day.” You were about to agree, but when you tried to move, your entire body protested. Even sitting up felt like too much effort. “Mhm, I’ll go after this episode.” Donghyuck hummed in agreement and turned back to the TV. Somewhere in the middle of the episode, your body gave in to exhaustion. You woke up in the middle of the night. It took you a moment to realise you were curled into Donghyuck’s side, your head resting against his chest. His arm was draped over you protectively, his slow, steady breathing the only sound in the quiet room. You adjusted slightly and closed your eyes again. ⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔ The apartment was quiet. Sunghoon stood in the kitchen, rolling his shoulders back as he stared at the half-chopped apple sitting on the cutting board in front of him. His eyes kept flicking toward the living room, where you were curled up on the couch, asleep. Again. Donghyuck had left a few hours ago, only after making you swear you would be okay. He assured you and Sunghoon that he would be back in seconds if he was needed. Now, it was just the two of you. Sunghoon knew that you wouldn’t be on top of your game less than a day after being drugged, but his heart clenched every time he walked past your sleeping figure on the sofa. You had dragged yourself from your room into the living room, claiming your room was too cold to be in, wrapping yourself in multiple layers of blankets before passing out not long after. Donghyuck had insisted you ate lunch while he was there, wanting to see you eat at least a bit, seeming satisfied after you ate a whole bowl of rice and some soup before you took painkillers and suppressants against the nausea. Sunghoon had called his mom after he had woken up today, having the desire to speak to someone who was truly adult about the whole situation. She had offered to come to Seoul, taking care of the two of you for a few days, or at least until you were feeling a bit better, when she learned that your mother couldn’t. He had declined her offer, but gratefully accepted her recipes for an upset stomach. Starting with serving you some vegetables that were easily digestible. So he neatly arranged a banana, a few pieces of cucumber, carrots and some graham crackers before setting the plate down on the coffee table. Maybe you felt like eating a bit when you woke up, and the meds had kicked in. ⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

You jerked awake, shooting upright so quickly that the sudden movement sent a sharp pulse through your head. For a few seconds, you didn’t know where you were. The apartment was silent around you, the curtains pulled almost completely shut. Thin lines of sunlight filtered in around the edges of the fabric, cutting pale strips across the living room floor. The television had been turned off at some point, and the only sound came from the low hum of the air conditioner and your own uneven breathing. You were sweating. Your shirt clung uncomfortably to your back, and damp strands of hair stuck to your forehead and the side of your neck. At the same time, your skin felt cold beneath the blankets wrapped around you, a strange chill sitting deep inside your body despite the heat trapped underneath the fabric. You slowly started peeling the blankets away. Even that felt like too much effort. Your arms were heavy, your fingers clumsy as they caught in the folds, and it took you much longer than it should have to free your legs. By the time the last blanket slipped onto the floor, your heart was beating too quickly for someone who had done nothing but sit up. For a long moment, you stayed there. Your feet rested against the cool floor while you leaned forward, elbows braced against your knees. You took one breath, then another, trying to orient yourself. Your body felt wrong. Heavy and hollow at the same time. Your head still hurt, though the sharp migraine from the day before had softened into a dull, persistent pressure behind your eyes. Your muscles ached like you had been running for hours, and every part of you seemed to lag a second behind your thoughts. Then your stomach growled. The sound was loud in the quiet apartment, followed by an uncomfortable twist that made you place a hand against your middle. You couldn’t remember the last time you had eaten properly. You swallowed, but there was barely any moisture in your mouth. The movement scraped against the back of your throat and made you wince. Water. You needed water. Maybe something small to eat as well. Rice. Toast. Something plain enough that your stomach wouldn’t protest. You placed both hands against the sofa and pushed yourself upright. The world tilted immediately. You tightened your grip on the backrest, your fingers digging into the fabric as the living room shifted sideways. Black spots flickered briefly at the edges of your vision. You squeezed your eyes shut, breathing slowly until the floor seemed to settle beneath you again. When you opened them, the room was still. Mostly. You waited another few seconds before carefully letting go of the sofa. Your legs felt unsteady, but they held. The distance between the living room and the kitchen had never seemed particularly far before, but now every step required concentration. You moved slowly, one hand occasionally brushing against the wall or the edge of the furniture, as though your own apartment had become unfamiliar overnight. A small Post-it note was stuck to the refrigerator door. You stopped in front of it. Sunghoon’s handwriting covered most of the yellow paper, neat but slightly tilted to one side. I cut up some fruit and vegetables for you. It’s in the blue box you always use. My mom said you should get well soon. A tiny smiley face had been drawn beneath the message.

You stared at it for longer than necessary. Somehow you were weirdly touched and embarrassed at the same time that Sunghoon had told his mom, probably asked her what to do and then had taken the time to cut up fruit for you. With a quiet huff, you pulled the refrigerator door open. The light struck your eyes immediately. Pain shot through your skull, sharp enough to make you recoil. You let the door fall closed again and raised one hand to cover your face, blinking rapidly against the burning behind your eyes. For a moment, you stood there with your palm pressed against the counter. The dizziness returned, softer this time but still enough to make your stomach shift unpleasantly. Maybe food could wait. Maybe you should drink something first. The pounding in your head might be dehydration. The dry mouth definitely was. If you drank some water and sat down again, you might feel normal enough to eat the fruit afterwards. A half-full bottle of water stood on the counter. You reached for it, rubbing the heel of your free hand against one eye before twisting the cap open. Your fingers felt weaker than usual, and the thin plastic crumpled slightly beneath your grip. You brought the bottle to your mouth and took three large swallows. The water was lukewarm, but you didn’t care. It felt good against your throat, washing away some of the dryness. For approximately two seconds. Then it didn’t sit right. Your stomach tightened so suddenly that you froze with the bottle still near your lips. A hard, unpleasant twist pulled through your middle. Not quite pain. Something worse. Something shifting and unstable, as if the water had disturbed whatever fragile balance your stomach had managed to find while you were asleep. You stopped breathing. For a second, you simply stood there, staring at the cabinet in front of you. Maybe it would pass. You had drunk too quickly. That was all. Your stomach had been empty, and you had swallowed too much water at once. It would settle if you stayed still. You lowered the bottle carefully. Your mouth filled with saliva. Your stomach rolled again, sharper this time. No. Your hand flew to your middle while the other placed the bottle onto the counter so quickly that it tipped onto its side. Water sloshed against the plastic, but you barely noticed. No, that was not good. You turned instinctively toward the sink, bending forward slightly as another wave passed through you. Please, no. The thought came before anything else. You pressed your palm harder against your stomach, as though enough pressure might hold everything in place. Your breathing became shallow and careful. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Slowly. Calmly. It was nausea. Just nausea. You had been drugged. You had barely eaten. You had drunk too quickly. There were a dozen reasonable explanations for why you felt sick. This was different. It had to be different. You squeezed your eyes shut. Your throat tightened every time you swallowed. The nausea rose and fell in unpredictable waves, and panic followed it immediately, hot and violent beneath your ribs. You could not throw up. Your fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt. You didn’t want to. You couldn’t allow yourself to.

The thought sounded irrational even inside your own head. People threw up when they were sick. It happened. It meant nothing. Your body was trying to protect itself after everything it had been through. But your body did not seem to understand that this was supposed to be different. It remembered. The pressure beneath your ribs. The saliva gathering beneath your tongue. The instinctive way your body folded forward before you even decided to move. You knew every step that would come next. That knowledge terrified you more than the nausea itself. You inhaled through your nose. One. Exhaled slowly. Two. Again. In. Out. It would pass. It had to pass. You stayed perfectly still, one hand braced against the counter and the other pressed over your stomach. Gradually, the pressure eased. Only slightly, but enough that you could take a fuller breath. You opened your eyes. The kitchen came back into focus around you. The closed refrigerator. The tipped bottle. Sunghoon’s note fluttering faintly beneath the air from the vent. You were okay. You were getting through it. Maybe if you stood there for another minute, the nausea would disappear completely. Then you could go back to the sofa. You could lie down, pull the blankets over yourself and pretend none of this had happened. You lifted your head. The movement itself was small but still enough to set the next wave of nausea into motion. Your stomach clenched so violently that your knees almost gave out beneath you. You covered your mouth, a broken sound catching in your throat as you stumbled away from the counter. No. No, no, no. You barely made it into the bathroom. Your shoulder collided with the doorframe on the way inside, but you barely registered the dull pain. One hand caught the edge of the sink while the other remained clamped over your mouth. The cold porcelain pulled you back into reality for half a second. Then your stomach twisted again. You dropped to your knees in front of the toilet. The position was too familiar. That was the first clear thought that cut through the panic. Your knees against the cold floor. One hand gripping the toilet seat. Your head bowed as your body prepared itself, completely ignoring every desperate command you gave it. You stared down into the empty bowl. Your breathing came too quickly now, shallow and uneven, and every inhale seemed to catch halfway into your lungs. You were sick. That was all. You had been drugged. You had barely eaten. Your stomach was irritated. This was not something you had chosen. This had nothing to do with before. But the tiles beneath your knees felt the same. The pressure behind your ribs felt the same. The helpless, ugly awareness of what your body was about to do felt exactly the same. Your fingers tightened around the edge of the toilet. “No,” you whispered. The word disappeared into the quiet bathroom. Your mouth filled with saliva again. You swallowed forcefully, fighting against the reflex, but that only made the nausea rise higher. “No. Please.” You pressed one hand against your stomach, trying to force your breathing back into something manageable. A small, broken sound escaped your lips, and you bent forward further. The worst part was that you knew what came afterwards. The relief.

That brief emptiness. The sudden quiet after your body had stopped fighting itself. You hated that your mind remembered it. You hated that some distant, buried part of you anticipated it. The bathroom door opened behind you. “Y/N?” Sunghoon’s voice was sharp, immediately awake despite the sleep still roughening its edges. You froze. Shame hit you so quickly that it almost drowned out the nausea. He couldn’t see you like this. You turned your head slightly, but not enough to look at him. “Go.” The word came out hoarse and weak. There was a brief silence. “What happened?” His footsteps moved closer. “No.” You shook your head, though the motion immediately made the room tilt again. “Go away.” He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. You heard him cross the bathroom in two quick steps before he crouched beside you. His presence seemed to take up the entire small space, warm and solid against the cold air. “Hey, hey.” His hand hovered uncertainly near your back. “Are you going to be sick?” You flinched away from him. Your hand left the toilet long enough to press weakly against his chest. You tried to push him back, but there was barely any strength behind the movement. “Go,” you rasped again. “Go away, Sunghoon. I’m fine.” The lie sounded pathetic even to you. His brows drew together. “You’re not fine.” “I am.” You pushed at him once more, but he barely moved. Everything about the situation became unbearable at once. His closeness. His worry. The fact that he was looking at you, taking in the sweat on your face and the tears already gathering in your eyes. You were good. You weren’t doing this anymore. You hadn’t done this in years. Sunghoon had to leave. But before either of you could say anything else, another contraction pulled through your stomach. You doubled over, both hands returning to the toilet seat as your throat tightened around a sob. The nausea rose hard and fast, forcing your body forward. Sunghoon’s hand landed carefully between your shoulder blades. You tried to shrug him off. “Don’t.” “I’m just trying to help.” “I don’t need help.” Your voice cracked at the end. You hated this. You hated how familiar the cold floor felt beneath your knees. You hated that your body knew exactly what position to take, how to brace itself, how to wait for the inevitable. Worse, you hated the small, traitorous thought moving beneath the panic. If you threw up, you would feel better. You knew that. Throwing up always helped. The nausea would disappear. The pressure would ease. The terrible fullness in your chest and stomach would finally be gone. The thought was almost reassuring. That realisation made terror flood through you all over again. “Sunghoon,” you whispered. You did not know whether you were asking him to stay or begging him to leave. “I know,” he said quickly. His voice was tense. “I know. Just breathe, okay? Don’t fight it too hard.” A miserable sound escaped you, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He went still. “No, I mean…” He shook his head rapidly, realising too late that he had said the wrong thing. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” You squeezed your eyes shut and took a few laborious breaths, trying to get yourself under control, fighting your body even more.

“Do you want water?” he asked, panic creeping more openly into his voice. “Or your medication? Maybe the pills they gave you can still help.” You shook your head. The movement made your stomach lurch again. You folded forward, one hand flying to your mouth as a choked, helpless noise tore out of you. Sunghoon cursed under his breath. “Okay. Okay.” His breathing was too quick now. “Don’t move. I’ll call the hospital.” That sentence broke through the fog immediately. “No!” Sunghoon had already started to stand, but he stopped halfway and looked down at you. “No?” “Don’t call them.” Your voice shook so much, you weren’t sure he understood what you said. “Y/N, you were discharged less than a day ago.” “I’m fine.” “You’re crying on the bathroom floor.” “I said I’m fine,” you snapped, moving away from him. He stared at you for half a second, disbelief and fear moving across his face. Then he crouched beside you again. “You’re not fine,” his voice was quiet. His hand reached toward your face, hesitating before carefully brushing the loose strands of hair away from your damp forehead. “Let me call them. I can explain what’s happening and ask if this is normal. We don’t even have to go back unless they tell us to.” Your chest tightened further. The thought of the hospital made the humiliation burn hotter. Doctors asking questions. Someone writing down your weight again, discussing your body, telling you that this wasn’t healthy. Donghyuck finding out. Everyone watching. Everyone knowing that you could not even be trusted to recover normally. “If I could just…” You swallowed hard, another wave building beneath your ribs. “If I could just get it out, it would stop.” The words left your mouth before you could catch them. Sunghoon’s expression changed, only slightly, a small crease forming between his brows. “What?” Your entire body went cold. You turned your face away from him. “Nothing,” tears spilt down your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. Sunghoon’s hand stilled against your back. “For what?” You shook your head. For making him sit here. For making him see you like this. For knowing exactly what would make the nausea stop. For the horrible, quiet relief that had already started forming in your mind before your body had even done anything. “You shouldn’t have to…” Your voice broke. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this.” “Don’t,” the word came out louder than he intended, but you flinched nonetheless. His face changed immediately. “Sorry.” He softened his voice, moving his hand more carefully over your back. “Don’t apologise. Okay? You don’t have to apologise to me.” You stared down at the tile. “You just got out of the hospital,” he continued. “You’re sick. That’s all. There’s nothing wrong with being sick.” But there was. He didn’t understand. You weren’t doing this anymore. A sob pushed its way out of your throat. You covered your mouth, but it was too late. You weren’t the girl who knelt on bathroom floors anymore. You weren’t the girl who waited until everyone was asleep. You weren’t the girl who planned how long to run the tap so nobody would hear. You felt weak, embarrassed, dirty, wrong. Sunghoon kept one hand between your shoulder blades while the other hovered uncertainly near your arm. He clearly did not know whether touching you was helping or making everything worse. “Oh, Y/N.”

The pity you thought you heard in his voice made your throat close. You hated it. You hated the idea of him feeling sorry for you. You wanted to tell him to stop looking at you like that, but the nausea rose again before you could speak. Sunghoon saw the change in your face. “Shit.” You turned toward the toilet. One hand caught the sink while your stomach contracted hard enough to make your entire body jerk forward. Sunghoon’s hand returned to your back immediately. The sound that escaped you was horrified and miserable, followed by the violent tightening of your stomach as what little remained inside it came up. Your eyes burned. Your throat burned. Your fingers slipped against the cold porcelain, and Sunghoon moved closer, supporting your shoulder when you shook too hard to keep yourself steady. “It’s okay,” he muttered, the words sounding more like something he was telling himself than something he expected you to believe. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” You hated that he was there. You were grateful that he was there. Both feelings existed so violently beside each other that you could barely separate them. Your body contracted again. Then again. Each time, the pressure eased slightly. And there it was. Relief. Small at first. Then unmistakable. The nausea retreated. The painful fullness beneath your ribs loosened. Your breathing became easier between the sobs catching in your throat. You noticed it immediately. That was the worst part. The nausea had terrified you. The relief terrified you more. Your body remembered this. Some part of you still recognised the emptiness afterwards as something clean and quiet. You hated yourself for feeling it. When it was over, you remained bent above the toilet for several seconds, trembling hard enough that your teeth almost knocked together. Sunghoon’s hand moved slowly across your back. You sat back on your heels. A sob escaped you before you could stop it. Sunghoon reached forward and flushed the toilet quickly. “I’ll get you water,” he said. “Stay here. Don’t stand up.” Before you could answer, he was gone. You heard his footsteps hurry through the hallway, followed by the sound of drawers and cabinets opening in the kitchen. The second he disappeared, you pushed yourself upright. Your knees protested, and the room tilted again, but you grabbed the edge of the washing machine and forced yourself to stand. Your mouth tasted awful. Acid burned at the back of your throat. The bitter taste clung to your tongue, and you could still smell it in the small bathroom. You needed it gone. Immediately. Your hand reached for your toothbrush before you had consciously decided to move. You knew you were supposed to rinse first. Some distant, reasonable part of your mind remembered being told that brushing immediately was bad for your teeth. You did not care. The taste made your skin crawl. It made everything too real. You squeezed toothpaste onto the brush with shaking fingers and started scrubbing. The sharp mint burned against your tongue. You brushed harder; the repetitive movement quieted something inside your head. Back and forth. Across the front. Along the sides. The taste of mint replacing the acid. The foam gathering in the sink. For a second, it almost felt meditative. Automatic. Familiar. That thought made your hand falter.

You spat into the sink and rinsed your mouth. It wasn’t enough. You could still feel it at the back of your throat, could still taste something sour beneath the mint. You cleaned the toothbrush, squeezed more toothpaste onto it and started again. Harder this time. Your gums hurt, but you kept brushing. You needed every trace of it gone. After a minute or maybe more, you rinsed your mouth again, and cleaned the toothbrush more carefully than necessary before placing it back into its holder. When you finally lifted your head, your reflection stared back at you. You looked awful. Your face was pale, almost grey beneath the bathroom light. Your hair had fallen loose around your shoulders, damp strands sticking to your cheeks and forehead. Your eyes were swollen and red from crying, your mouth trembling faintly even though the vomiting had stopped. Your cheeks looked hollow. You stared at them. At least your face looked smaller. The thought arrived before you could stop it. Disgust rose through you so quickly that you almost gagged again. What was wrong with you? You had just been drugged. You had spent the night in a hospital. You had collapsed in front of a room full of people and woken up with no memory of how you had gotten there. And this was what your brain chose to notice. The shape of your face. The emptiness in your stomach. You gripped the edge of the sink. Your stomach felt hollow now. Not simply hungry. Truly empty. The sensation sat beneath your ribs, strange and familiar, making you aware of every angle of your body. The slight pull of your shirt against your waist. The bones beneath your hands. The absence of anything heavy inside you. It had been years since you had felt like this. Years since empty had meant more than hunger. Years since you had treated that hollow ache like proof that you had done something right. You stared at your reflection for too long. Your hand remained braced against the sink, the other hanging uselessly beside you. The girl in the mirror looked just as shocked as you felt. Sunghoon shifted behind you. You had almost forgotten that he was there, but he was watching you quietly, holding a glass of water and a bucket in his hands. You looked up and met his gaze through the mirror. He wasn’t looking at you with disgust. That almost made it worse. His expression was soft and worried, his brows drawn together as he took in your shaking hands and tear-streaked face. Heat spread across your face despite the cold sitting beneath your skin. He placed the bucket carefully beside the sink, then he held the glass of water toward you. “Rinse with this,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to drink it yet.” You took it because refusing would require looking at him. Your fingers brushed his, and you pulled your hand away too quickly, making some of the water spill over the rim. “Sorry,” the word escaped you almost automatically. Sunghoon’s jaw tightened. “Stop apologising.” You stared into the glass. He stood there for another second before clearing his throat. “Do you want to sleep in my room?” You looked up at him through the mirror. “What?” His expression changed slightly, as though he immediately regretted the way he had phrased it.

“Not like…” He scratched the back of his neck, looking away for the first time. “I just mean so I can hear you if you need anything. If you get sick again.” Your stomach dropped for a completely different reason. Humiliation crashed through you so quickly that your eyes stung all over again. To him, it was probably practical. He was worried because you had been in the hospital. He wanted to make sure you did not faint or choke or need help while he was asleep. But all you heard was that you could not be trusted alone. That you looked bad enough to need watching. That he had seen something in you that made him believe you were not safe in your own room. You swallowed hard. “I’m fine.” The words came out thin and unconvincing. Sunghoon looked at you. You could tell he did not believe you. He did not challenge you immediately, though. “Okay,” he said carefully. “But if you’re not, you can say so.” You nodded because you did not trust yourself to speak, before you drowned the glass and placed it back on the counter with shaky hands. Sunghoon watched you for a moment, then he stepped a little closer, still far away that he couldn’t touch you. “You don’t have to go back to your room,” he said quietly. “That’s all I meant.” You folded the towel over the metal rail, smoothing it twice even though it was already straight. “I know,” your voice was quiet, almost fragile as you answered. Sunghoon glanced down at the bucket beside the sink before looking back at you. “I can put this next to the bed,” he said. “Just in case.” You nodded again. He reached for it, then hesitated. “Do you want me to call Donghyuck?” “No.” Your answer came so quickly, Sunghoon raised his eyebrows in surprise. “No,” you repeated, softer this time. “Please don’t tell him.” Something shifted in his expression, but he did not ask why. “Okay.” He picked up the bucket and stepped into the hallway. You stayed in front of the mirror for another second before you turned off the bathroom light and followed him outside. ⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔ Sunghoon’s room was darker than yours. The curtains were pulled almost completely shut, only a thin strip of light slipping through where the fabric did not quite meet in the middle. His desk was cluttered with notebooks, tape, charger cables and one of his training jackets thrown carelessly over the back of the chair. A faint trace of his cologne still clung to the room, mixed with laundry detergent and the colder air from the AC. You stood near the doorway for a second, suddenly feeling awkward. It was strange, being in here. You had helped him move into the room months ago. You had brought him coffee while he studied at his desk, stood in the doorway while talking to him, and occasionally walked in to steal one of his chargers after knocking. But you had never been inside his bed. Sunghoon placed the bucket on the floor beside the nightstand and moved one of the pillows closer to the wall. “You can take that side,” he said, gesturing toward it. “It’s closer to the bathroom.” You nodded. The practical explanation only made your embarrassment return. He must have noticed something in your expression because he quickly added, “Not because I think you’re going to be sick again. Just in case you get dizzy when you stand up.” “I know.” Your voice sounded small in the quiet room.

You climbed onto the mattress carefully, trying not to move too quickly. Your body still felt weak and uncertain beneath you, as if even sitting down required more coordination than it should have. Sunghoon pulled the blanket back for you before stepping away. You lowered yourself onto the far side of the bed, turning onto your side with your back toward the wall. The mattress dipped beneath your weight and smelled faintly like him. Clean fabric, shampoo and something warmer you could not identify. You pulled the blanket up to your chest. Sunghoon remained standing beside the bed for a moment, clearly unsure what to do with himself. “You can sleep,” you murmured. “You don’t have to watch me.” “I wasn’t going to watch you.” You turned your head enough to look at him. He was already frowning slightly, as if he had only just realised how strange that sounded. “I mean,” he added quickly, “I’m not going to sit there and stare at you.” Despite everything, a small breath of laughter left you. It barely made a sound, but Sunghoon’s shoulders loosened when he heard it. “Good,” you whispered. He nodded, then walked around the bed and lay down on the other side. The mattress shifted beneath him. Sunghoon stayed as close to the edge as possible, leaving a wide strip of untouched bedding between the two of you. There was enough room for another person to lie comfortably in the space separating your bodies. He turned onto his back and pulled the blanket up only as far as his waist. You remained on your side, facing the room. The room fell silent. You could hear the low hum of the air conditioner and the faint ticking of the clock on his nightstand. Somewhere outside, a car drove past, its headlights briefly slipping through the gap in the curtains before disappearing again. You closed your eyes. Your body was exhausted. Every muscle felt heavy, your head still ached, and the cold emptiness in your stomach had been replaced by a dull soreness. You should have fallen asleep immediately. Instead, your mind refused to become quiet. You could still feel the edge of the toilet beneath your fingers. The bitter taste beneath the toothpaste. Sunghoon’s hand against your back. The way he had looked at you through the mirror. You pulled the blanket a little higher, pressing your lips together as if that could stop the memories from moving through your head. Minutes passed. You were not sure how many. Sunghoon shifted slightly on the other side of the bed. The movement was careful, almost hesitant, as though he was trying not to disturb you. Then he spoke. “I’m sorry.” Your eyes opened. For a second, you thought you might have imagined it. You slowly turned your head toward him. Sunghoon was still lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. His arms rested stiffly at his sides, one hand gripping the edge of the blanket. “For what?” His jaw moved slightly before he answered. “For convincing you to go.” Your brows drew together. “What?” “To the party.” His voice was quiet. “You didn’t want to go.” You turned onto your back so you could look at him properly. His profile was barely visible in the darkness. The line of his nose, the slight tension in his jaw, his eyes fixed stubbornly above him instead of looking in your direction.

“You had a migraine,” he continued. “You looked exhausted before we even left, and I still told you it would be fine.” “Sunghoon–” “I should’ve told you to stay home.” “No.” The word came out more firmly than anything you had said since leaving the hospital. Sunghoon finally looked at you. You pushed yourself slightly higher against the pillow. “No,” you repeated. “You didn’t do anything.” “I convinced you to come.” “And I’m glad you did.” He stared at you. You swallowed, suddenly aware of how dry your throat still felt. “I mean it,” you said. “It was fun.” His expression did not change. “At the beginning,” you added quickly. “When I was with you and your friends. And Jaemin. I was having fun.” Sunghoon’s brows pulled together. “You don’t have to make me feel better.” “I’m not,” you turned more toward him, ignoring the way the room shifted faintly with the movement. “I never go anywhere,” you said. “You know that. I work or study or stay at home. And I wanted to go. I was nervous, but I wanted to.” He looked unconvinced. “You said yourself that you didn’t like parties.” “I don’t usually.” “That’s not the point.” “It is,” you took a breath, trying to arrange your thoughts into something that made sense. “I had fun when Jake hugged me even though it almost killed me,” you murmured. “And when Jay started arguing with Jaemin about music. And when you made your team lose at beer pong the whole time because you kept throwing the ball everywhere else instead of the table.” Sunghoon’s mouth shifted faintly. “I wasn’t losing.” “You were terrible.” “I had one bad round.” “You missed the table with like every shot.” “It was crowded.” A tiny smile pulled at your mouth despite yourself. For a moment, the tension in the room eased. Then Sunghoon looked away again, and it disappeared. “You still wouldn’t have been there if I hadn’t asked you.” You stared at him. “No,” you said softly. “But that doesn’t make it your fault.” He remained silent. The guilt in his expression made something uncomfortable twist in your chest. “It was mine.” Sunghoon turned his head sharply. “What?” You looked down at the blanket gathered beneath your hands. “It was my fault.” Sunghoon pushed himself onto one elbow. “No.” “I should have paid attention.” “No.” “I didn’t even think about having to watch my cup.” “Y/N.” “It was just water, right? Why would someone spike water?” Your voice began moving faster, the thoughts spilling out now that you had started. “Everyone knows you’re supposed to watch your drinks at parties. I was stupid. I wasn’t paying attention, and then everyone had to deal with it. You and Jaemin had to deal wth me being unconscious. You had to call the ambulance. Donghyuck left whatever party he was at and came in his costume. You missed training today and had to sit there all night because I–” “Stop.” Sunghoon’s voice cut through yours. You froze. He was fully turned toward you now, the empty space between you suddenly feeling smaller despite neither of you having moved closer. “That is not what happened.” You looked away. “It is.” “No,” his answer was immediate. “You had fun at a party and trusted the people around you to not have any bad intentions. That’s what you did.” “I should’ve been more careful,” you pressed your lips together.

Sunghoon’s voice stayed controlled, but there was something sharp beneath it now. Not anger directed at you, but anger that seemed to fill the space around him. “He put something in your drink,” he said. “He did that. You didn’t.” “I still drank it.” “Because you thought it was water.” “I should’ve noticed.” “How?” You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. “How were you supposed to notice?” he asked again. “Was it supposed to smell different? Look different? Were you supposed to know what he was thinking?” You stared down at your hands. Sunghoon sat up slightly, his back resting against the headboard. “You trusted someone not to poison you,” he continued. “That isn’t a mistake.” Your throat tightened. “It feels like one.” “I know,” his voice was firm. “But it wasn’t, Y/N. It wasn’t your fault.” You blinked rapidly, refusing to look at him. “If I had been more careful–” “Then he might have done it to someone else.” You looked at him. Sunghoon’s face was difficult to read in the darkness, but his eyes were fixed on you. “That doesn’t make it better,” he said. “And it doesn’t make you responsible. It means he made a choice to hurt someone.” Your chest felt too tight“You don’t know that he wanted to hurt me.” “He drugged you,” his voice hardened again. “He watched you get confused. He watched you lose control of your body, and he still kept touching you.” Fragments flashed through your mind. A hand at your waist. A voice too close to your ear. The wall beneath your palm. Then Sunghoon’s voice cutting through the music. You squeezed your eyes shut. “That was his choice,” Sunghoon said. “Every part of it.” The mattress shifted. For a second, you thought he might move closer, but he did not. He remained on his side of the bed, leaving the space between you untouched. “Not yours,” he continued. “You didn’t choose to be drugged. None of this is your fault. It's not mine or Jaemin’s. It’s Intak’s fault.” You turned your face toward the wall again. The darkness blurred slightly as tears gathered in your eyes. Sunghoon was quiet for a few seconds, then his voice softened. “And you’re allowed to feel awful. You don’t have to be okay.” Your fingers tightened against the fabric. “You were drugged,” he said. “You woke up in a hospital without knowing what happened to you. You feel sick, and tired, and scared. You’re allowed to feel all of that.” A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and disappeared into the pillow. “You’re allowed to be angry,” he continued. “Or upset. Or disgusted. You’re allowed to hate everything right now.” His voice cracked slightly on the next sentence. “You don’t have to make it easier for us if it’s hard for you, Y/N.” That hurt more than you expected. You swallowed hard and tried to say something, anything, but nothing came out of your mouth, because what were you supposed to say? You were you fine? The silence stretched between you, but he did not fill it immediately. He did not ask whether you understood. He did not make you promise that you believed him. He simply remained there, close enough that you could hear his breathing but far enough that you did not feel cornered. You stared at the wall. Your body still felt wrong. Your stomach was hurting, your throat was burning, shame was still sitting heavily beneath your skin. Nothing he had said made those feelings disappear.

But for the first time since waking in the hospital, you did not feel as though you had to argue with them. You did not have to insist that you were fine. You did not have to explain. You could simply lie there and feel horrible. A quiet sob caught in your chest. You pressed your face further into the pillow, trying to hide it. Sunghoon did not move closer. He did not reach across the space between you without asking. He did not try to fix it. He did not ask you to stop crying. He was simply there. And eventually, with your body still trembling faintly and his breathing steady behind you, exhaustion pulled you under.

Thank you so much for reading! Lots of Love, Patty

⤷ ゛OTHER INSTALLMENTS OF THE SERIES ˎˊ˗

AN ──── FINALLY! ITS HERE! Thank you so much for waiting! I hope you all had a great time reading...at least the fluffy parts. The next parts could be tiggering even more to those suffering or healing from an ed, so i am advising you to not continue reading. Its gonna be very angsty. Also if anyone is wondering why this took so long, ill let you know tht just formatting this to tumrbl text format took me 3 hours and reading over the text before that took 2 1/2 hours 😀. So i'd be really gratefull to hear your thought, I need that lil dopaimne, please don't be a quiet reader 😔🫶🏻