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summary; ryul spends months chasing the biggest opportunity of his career but by the time he turns around, the girl he’s been doing it all for is already slipping through his fingers..
warnings; angst, ryul lowkey workaholic, mentions of another girl, reader is a fashion / beauty influencer
wc; 9k - requested 1 & 2
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if anyone looked at you and ryul separately, they would’ve laughed if you told them you were dating
you were all soft edges and glossy lips, matching sets in pastel colors, skincare routines that took longer than some movies, a camera roll filled with outfit photos and blurry pictures of your matcha
your entire career revolved around aesthetics; fashion, beauty, lifestyle, everything looked pretty, soft, cute and mostly pink
meanwhile ryul looked like he belonged on the opposite side of the universe; messy hair, oversized hoodies, silver chains, rings on every finger and a permanent look on his face that made strangers think he hated everyone around him
he was one of the biggest names in the rap scene and unfortunately he knew it,
“they love me,” he’d say dramatically whenever fans gathered outside venues,
“you’re so full of yourself,”
“and yet you still date me,”
“somehow yeah,”
“see? love,”
he’d grin every single time, that little cocky and obnoxious grin, almost a little too confident
he had this bad boy image to the outside world, but the truth was that nobody got to see the version of ryul you did,
the version that sent you voice notes at three in the morning because he found a cat that looked funny, the version that begged you to do face masks with him, the version that laid on your lap while you edited content and complained about producers for hours, the version that secretly loved being taken care of
you worked because somehow the differences balanced each other out,
when he forgot to eat because he was locked in a studio for twelve hours, you reminded him, when you spent 40 minutes deciding between 2 nearly identical shades of pink lipstick, he chose one and told you they looked exactly the same, which usually started an argument,
“they do not look the same,”
“baby they’re both pink,”
“one is rose pink,”
“that’s just a different way to say pink,”
“get out,”
“this is my apartment,”
you genuinely hated him sometimes (in a loving way) he thought it was hilarious,
overall life was easy with him, at least for a while,
then came the show,
a competition series; multiple artists paired together to create performances, songs and challenges over several months,
it was huge, the kind of opportunity people waited years for, the kind of thing that could push an already successful career even further, the kind that had the whole industry in a chokehold,
you were excited for him at first, genuinely excited, because this was a huge deal after all,
he called you the day he got the offer and you remembered hearing him practically yell into the phone,
“baby we’re so back,”
“who is we?”
“me,”
“oh,”
“and emotionally, you,”
you laughed so hard you nearly dropped your phone and he spent the next week talking about nothing else,
ideas, performances, strategies, possible pairings, outfits, literally everything and when he found out he’d been partnered with djessy, he seemed even more motivated,
you knew who she was, everyone did actually, she was another rapper, super popular and so talented even people who have absolutely no idea about rap can tell she knows what she’s doing
she’s covered in tattoos, she’s cool in the effortless way people spent years trying to imitate (and fail)
ryul and djessy match in a different way, they looked like they belonged in the same world, something you tried not to think about,
at first, nothing really changed or at least not enough to matter, he was busy and you understood that, he had rehearsals, meetings, recording sessions, late nights in the studio,
you never wanted to be the girlfriend who complained every time her boyfriend focused on work, especially not when this meant so much to him, so when he cancelled date night once, you shrugged it off, when he forgot to call one evening, you told yourself it wasn’t a big deal,
when he responded 6 hours late with a quick ‘sorry baby studio was crazy today’ you convinced yourself that was normal too,
because it was,
right?
but then the little things started piling up, the good morning texts became shorter, the phone calls became less regularly, the random updates throughout the day disappeared completely and somehow djessy’s name started appearing everywhere..
“djessy had this idea for the performance,”
“djessy knows this producer,”
“me and djessy were talking about-”
“djessy thinks-”
“djessy said-”
djessy, djessy, djessy.
you hated yourself every time you noticed, because it wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong, he wasn’t flirting, he wasn’t hiding anything, he was just talking,
but after hearing her name for the 50th time in a single week, something uncomfortable settled in your chest,
one evening you were sitting together on his couch, your head resting against his shoulder or at least it should’ve been, instead he was scrolling through messages, barely paying attention,
“look,” you said softly, turning your phone toward him, “they finally approved the campaign,”
“mhm,”
you waited.. but nothing,
“ryul,”
“yeah?”
his eyes never left his screen and you stared at him, then slowly lowered your phone again.
“nothing,”
it was stupid.. such a tiny thing, but somehow it stayed with you the entire drive home, because 6 months ago he would’ve been excited, he would’ve asked endless questions, he would’ve celebrated with you but now you weren’t even sure he’d heard what you’d said, but still, you kept trying,
you sent him photos throughout your day, you called him first, you asked about rehearsals, you asked about the show, you listened to him rant about judges and producers and performance concepts and you supported him through everything,
because relationships weren’t always 50/50, sometimes one person needed more support,
you knew that and you understood that, you repeated it to yourself every single night, even when your messages started looking embarrassingly one sided..
even when dates got postponed again, even when he promised he’d call and didn’t, even when you sat awake at 2 in the morning staring at your phone like an idiot,
he’s busy, he’s stressed, he’s tired, he still loves you, he’s busy, he’s stressed, he’s tired, he still loves you
eventually the words stopped sounding reassuring instead they started sounding like excuses and somehow that felt feeling became more and more difficult to deal with..
the most ironic part is that the internet noticed before ryul did, which was honestly not even surprising at this point, it started with small comments underneath your videos,
you look tired :(
is it just me or does she seem kinda sad lately?
hope you’re taking care of yourself queen
where’s the smile???
at first you laughed them off, people online noticed everything, one different tone of voice and suddenly everyone thought your life was falling apart, but then more comments appeared, more videos, more clips, people making side by side comparisons from a few months ago versus now
you hated watching them, because they weren’t entirely wrong,
you looked thinner, your cheeks weren’t as full, the bright energy people always associated with you seemed dimmer somehow,
but even through all this, you still posted, still smiled, still filmed your morning routines and skincare videos and little shopping vlogs, but it felt like performing a character lately..
and the worst part?
you couldn’t even pinpoint exactly when things started feeling different, there wasn’t a huge fight, there wasn’t cheating, there wasn’t some dramatic breakup worthy moment, just a 100 tiny disappointments stacked on top of each other until suddenly your chest felt heavy all the time,
meanwhile..
ryul’s show was everywhere,
every social media app, every trending page, every clip, every interview and unfortunately every comment section..
djessy and ryul are carrying this season!!!
holy shitttt their chemistry is insane!!!
they work so well together
omgggg they literally look like they belong together
you stopped reading after that,
you told yourself it didn’t bother you and honestly? it wasn’t even the shipping comments, because you knew how fans worked, they shipped anyone standing next to each other,
what hurt was knowing strangers were seeing more of your boyfriend than you were..
they got new content every week, you got unanswered messages
one afternoon you received an email, a popular variety show wanted you as a guest and your first instinct was to tell ryul, to share this news with him, you even opened your messages, your fingers hovering over the keyboard;
guess what!!! i got invited to-
you stared at the screen,
then deleted everything, because suddenly a horrible thought crossed your mind,
what if he doesn’t care?
the realization made your stomach twist, so you didn’t tell him,
nonetheless you accepted the invitation, you showed up anx filmed the episode, smiled when the cameras pointed at you, laughed when everyone else laughed and went home exhausted afterwards
when the episode aired a few weeks later, the reaction wasn’t what you expected, people weren’t talking about your outfit or your jokes or even the stories you shared,
they were talking about how different you looked
she seems really low energy :(
is she okay?????
i hope she’s eating enough…
she looked so tired during this episode what happened???
you tried ignoring it, until your phone lit up with a message from ohyul;
ohyul: hey
ohyul: u okay?
you stared at the screen,
then another message appeared
woojin: hyul hyung showed me the episode
woojin: you look kinda sick ngl
woojin: come over tonight
woojin: we’re making dinner
before you could answer, another text followed,
woojin: and don’t say you’re busy
woojin: because i know that’s a lie
you laughed softly, for the first time in days
they’d always been kind to you, they treated you like family long before you and ryul became official. which made declining feel even worse..
you: i’m okay
you: promise
you: just tired lately
ohyul: bullshit
you: language
ohyul: come eat dinner
you knew exactly why you were saying no.. because ryul would be there.. and somehow seeing him felt harder than missing him, you couldn’t handle sitting across from him while he checked his phone every 5 minutes, you couldn’t handle pretending everything was normal while deep down you’re longing for something that’s not really there.. right now..
so you stayed home,
a week later filming finally paused for a short break, you were lying in bed scrolling mindlessly when your phone buzzed,
ryul: baby
you blinked,
then sat up when another message appeared,
ryul: miss u
ryul: want to hang out tomorrow?
your chest immediately tightened. because part of you wanted to cryc another part wanted to throw your phone across the room and another part hated yourself for still feeling relieved
you replied yes and the next day he picked you up and acted exactly the same as always, like nothing had changed, like months hadn’t passed, like you hadn’t spent countless nights staring at your phone wondering if he remembered you existed
he greeted you with a grin, kissed your forehead, stole your sunglasses, called you dramatic when you complained, took you to your favorite café, ordered your favorite drink without asking and everything felt painfully normal, almost enough to make you think you’d imagined everything
until halfway through the afternoon when his phone buzzed and immediately his attention shifted, just for a second, but you immediately noticed.. because lately you noticed everything
“what?” he asked,
you quickly looked away, “nothing,”
“djessy’s asking something about her verse gimme a sec,”
he squeezed your hand, smiled, and went back to talking once he was done and somehow that hurt more, because now you can see with your own eyes that this version of him still existed, he just wasn’t around anymore..
not around you at least,
when filming started again, things somehow got worse,
you didn’t even know how that was possible but he disappeared again,
longer gaps between replies, even shorter conversations, more cancelled plans, less effort.. less everything..
you stopped asking to see him first, stopped initiating calls, stopped expecting things because somehow it hurt less that way or at least that’s what you told yourself..
one evening woojin called unexpectedly,
“can i ask you something?”
“depends,”
“why is ryul acting weird?”
you froze, “..what?”
“nah i’m being fr,”
you heard voices in the background, probably the rest of their team,
“he’s been impossible lately,”
“maybe he’s stressed,”
“yeah but he’s also stupid,”
“that’s true,” you chuckled softly,
woojin continued, “why didn’t he invite you to dinner?”
your smile dropped immediately, “what dinner?”
silence, immediate silence that could literally cut through steel..
the kind that told you everything,
“..woojin?”
“shit,”
your stomach dropped, “what dinner?”
“there was a team dinner..”
you waited,
“..last week,”
you swallowed, “oh,”
“i thought you knew, everyone was there,”
and of course djessy had been there, everyone had, except you..
and that hurt more than if he’d intentionally excluded you, because it meant he genuinely hadn’t even thought about it..
a few days later ohyul texted asking if you wanted to stop by the company, he had some downtime before practice
you agreed, mostly because you missed having friends and you could use some ohyul jokes in your life right now,
when you arrived, ohyul was running late,
5 minutes, he texted, so you waited near one of the rehearsal rooms and that’s when you heard voices,
familiar voices,
ryul and ohyul
you weren’t trying to eavesdrop, you would’ve walked away immediately if it wasn’t for you hearing your own name..
“..i’m serious ryul,”
ohyul sounded angry, like genuinely angry..
“she’s not doing good,”
silence.
then ryul, “what are you talking about?”
“exactly what i said,”
another small pause,
“have you even looked at her recently?”
your stomach dropped,
“bro-“
“she’s lost weight,”ohyul cut him off immediately, “she looks exhausted all the time,”
silence.
“woojin and i literally had to text her because we were worried,”
more silence and your heart hurt instantly.. you felt heavy in a way you’ve never felt before
because suddenly you realized; he didn’t know, he genuinely didn’t know..
“she’s just busy too,”
“bullshit,” ohyul sounded furious now, “you’ve been so focused on this show that you haven’t noticed your own girlfriend falling apart,”
your heart started pounding so hard you could hear it in your head,
“that’s not fair,”
“really?”ohyul laughed bitterly, “then tell me the last time you took her on a date
silence.
“the last time you called her?”
silence.
“the last time you asked how she was doing?”
silence.
“bro when’s the last time you saw her smile..?”
you squeezed your eyes shut, because somehow hearing it out loud made everything real and for the first time since all of this started..
ryul had absolutely no answer
“you know what i don’t understand?”ohyul’s voice echoed through the room,
“what?”
“how literally everyone noticed except you,”
ryul sighed heavily,
you couldn’t see him but he looked exhausted, he had dark circles under his eyes, his hair messy from rehearsal, his phone still buzzing every few minutes with new notifications,
“bro i’m tired,”
“yeah? imagine how she feels,”
silence.
“you’re acting like i’m doing this on purpose,”
“i’m acting like you’ve been a shitty boyfriend,”
ryul looked away immediately, because that one landed hard,
“she knows i’m busy,”
“busy doesn’t mean absent,”
another silence.
“do you even know what she’s been doing lately?”
ryul frowned, “what?”
ohyul stared at him, waiting.. and when no answer came, his expression somehow got even more frustrated,
“exactly,”
“come on,”
“no seriously,”
ohyul sat forward, “do you know what projects she’s working on?”
silence.
“what brands she’s partnered with recently?”
silence.
“when’s the last time you asked her about her work?”
more silence.
ryul rubbed a hand over his face, the guilt was starting to creep in now.. slowly and uncomfortably,
“things have been crazy lately,”
“that’s your excuse for everything,”
“because it’s true,”
“and what’s gonna happen after the show’s over?”
“what?”
“you’re gonna wake up one day and realize she’s gone,”
that finally got a reaction, ryul’s head snapped up immediately, “she’s not gonna leave me,”
ohyul laughed, but there wasn’t anything funny about it, “you sure?”
the room fell quiet and for a moment neither of them spoke, then ryul shook his head,
“you’re making this way bigger than it is,”
ohyul looked like he wanted to throw something at him but instead he asked,
“how many hours a day are you spending with djessy?”
“what?”
“answer,”
“i don’t kno-“
“exactly,”
ryul groaned, “why are you bringing djessy into this?”
“because she’s involved whether you realize it or not,”
“she’s my team mate,”
“and?”
“and nothing,”
ohyul looked unconvinced and ryul continued before he could say anything else,
“we’re working together all day,”
“and?”
“and she’s helping me with the performances,”
“and?”
“and she gets it,”
the second the words left his mouth, ryul froze and so did ohyul..
the room suddenly felt very quiet,
“..she gets it?”
ryul immediately knew how bad that sounded, “that’s not what i meant,”
“really?”
“yes,”
“because it sounds exactly like what you meant,”
“dude-“
“are you hearing yourself right now?”
ryul sat back, frustrated and tired, his head hurt,
“i’m not saying she’s better,”
“good,”
“i’m just saying she’s there,”
the second sentence somehow sounded even worse and ohyul’s jaw tightened,
“and your girlfriend isn’t?”
“that’s not-”
“or have you made it impossible for her to be?”
silence,
heavy silence.
then finally-
“do you like her?”
the question hit the room like a bomb and ryul stared,
“huh?”
“do you like djessy?”
“no,”
“does she like you?”
“..no,”
“you sure?”
“yes,”
“because from where i’m sitting it looks like you’ve become so emotionally dependent on your teammate that you’ve forgotten you actually have a girlfriend,”
ryul opened his mouth, then closed it, because for the first time all day he genuinely didn’t know what to say
not because he liked djessy, but because suddenly he couldn’t remember the last meaningful conversation he’d had with you, couldn’t remember the last date, the last phone call, the last time he’d asked how you were doing,
outside the room, your vision blurred, you couldn’t stay there anymore, every word felt heavier than the last,
you didn’t even realize you’d started crying until you reached the hallway,
you wiped your face quickly,
just keep walking.. just keep walking,
you were almost at the elevator when a familiar voice called your name,
“yn?”
you looked up
woojin
his entire face lit up immediately and he walked over quickly,
“what are you doing here?”
before you could answer he wrapped you in a quick hug, the kind he’d always given, warm and easy, but also safe and for a second you almost broke down completely,
because somehow his hug felt more familiar lately than your own boyfriend,
woojin pulled back and froze once he saw your face,
his smile dropped instantly, “..hey,”
you looked away, wiping your face quickly,
“what happened?”
“nothing,”
“bullshit,”
you laughed weakly, the exact same word ohyul had used,
woojin’s expression softened,
“you look really pale,
“wow thanks,” you chuckled sarcastically,
“yn-“
“i’m okay,”
you weren’t but the problem was that you were too tired to explain why,
“did you eat today?”
you almost laughed, because apparently everyone was asking that lately,
everyone except the person you wanted to ask.
“i should go,”
“wait-”
“i’ll text you,”
you wouldn’t, both of you knew that, but woojin still nodded,
because he knew pushing would only make you leave faster.
you turned, walked toward the elevator, and disappeared..
a few minutes later woojin entered the practice room where his other friends were having their .. little moment,
“yo,”
neither of them looked up,
“weird question,”
“what?” ohyul sighed,
woojin frowned, “what happened with yn?”
the room immediately felt different,
“why?” ryul asked,
“because i just saw her,”
silence.
woojin looked between them, clear confusion on his face, “what?”
ohyul’s expression slowly fell, “..you saw her?”
“yeah,”
“where?”
“here in the hallway,” he pointed at the door,
another silence and he frowned again, looking between the other two guys, “yoo what is going on?”
ohyul closed his eyes, the realization hitting him immediately and hard..
“fuck,”
“what?” woojin asked,
ohyul looked at ryul,
then back at woojin,
then at the floor, like he was trying not to lose his temper.
“she heard us,”
woojin froze, “..heard what?”
“she heard the conversation,”
the room went completely still and ryul frowned,
“how do you know?”
ohyul looked at him like he’d lost his mind,
“because we were gonna hang out?”the words came out sharp, “she was literally here to see me,”
silence.
“you think it’s a coincidence she suddenly left?”
ryul opened his mouth, closed it like he was not even sure what to say before opening it again,
“maybe she didn’t hear everything,”
ohyul laughed, a short, bitter sound, “seriously?”
“i’m just saying-”
“you’re still not getting it,”
that one came from woojin and both guys turned toward him, woojin rarely got angry, which was exactly why the look on his face felt strange
“she looked awful,”
ryul frowned, “what?”
“she looked awful,”he repeated it, slower this time, “she looked like she’d been crying,”
silence.
“she could barely look at me,”
more silence.
“and now you’re sitting here talking about maybe she didn’t hear everything?”
ryul looked away, something unpleasant beginning to twist in his stomach,
“i didn’t mean-”
“then what do you mean?” woojin cut him off,
“because honestly man what the hell have you been doing lately?”
the question hung in the air,
it was heavy and unavoidable at this point,
“i’ve been working,”
“so has she,”
immediately, without hesitation..
“what?”
“she’s been working too,”woojin stared at him, “that’s not an excuse,”
“i never said it was,”
“then stop acting like it is,”
silence.
ohyul leaned forward, his arms folded now, anger written all over his face,
“do you know what she told us when we asked her to come for dinner?”
ryul shook his head, “she said she was tired,”
“because she was,”ohyul snapped, “because she’s been dealing with all this shit by herself,”
the guilt was getting harder to ignore now, harder to push away and even harder to explain
“no,”he cut him off immediately, “what’s crazy is that strangers online noticed she wasn’t okay before you did,”
silence.
random people in comment sections,”
silence.
“her followers,”
silence.
“me,”
silence.
“woojin,”
silence.
ohyul’s jaw tightened, “everyone noticed except her own fk boyfriend,”
for the first time since the conversation started ryul had no comeback,
nothing sarcastic, nothing defensive,
absolutely nothing
because every sentence sounded worse than the last but none of it sounded wrong,
woojin shook his head, looking disappointed more than angry now, which somehow felt even more confronting,
“she always defended you,”
ryul looked up, “what?”
“every time,” woojin shrugged in disbelief, “every time we asked if she was okay,”
silence.
“‘he’s busy’”
another silence.
“‘he’s stressed’”
and another.
“‘he’s working hard’”
woojin laughed quietly, without humor tho,
“she made excuses for you before we even had the chance,”
something dropped in ryul’s chest, because he could actually hear your voice saying those things,
he knew you would and that’s exactly what made it hurt..
“and meanwhile?” woojin continued, “you’re forgetting to call her?”
silence.
“forgetting dates?”
silence.
“forgetting to invite her places?”
silence.
“forgetting her?”
that one hurt, because suddenly he remembered the team dinner, remembered seeing the empty chair, remembered assuming you were busy, remembered never actually asking..
the room fell quiet again and nobody was speaking,
nobody moving until finally ohyul stood up,
“you should probably text her,”
ryul looked down immediately, his phone already in his hand, already opening your chat..
already typing,
ryul: baby
nothing sent,
the message failed instantly and his stomach dropped,
he tried again,
ryul: where are you?
failed, again.
ryul: can we talk?
failed.
for the first time all day, actual panic started creeping in, it was small but definitely there
“her phone’s off,”
a manager appeared in the doorway, “ryul,”
nobody answered,
“ryul,”
he looked up,
“you need to go,”
his next schedule.. another rehearsal, another interview, another obligation waiting for him, but suddenly none of it felt important,
he stood slowly, still staring at his screen, still refreshing the chat, still hoping something would change
but it didn’t, outside the room he tried calling,
once,
twice,
three times.
but it went straight to voicemail, every single time.
“come on..”
the words left quietly, almost desperate and he called again,
voicemail
again,
voicemail.
again,
voicemail.
eventually someone called his name from down the hallway, telling him he was late, telling him everyone was waiting, telling him he needed to move and somehow that felt like the biggest slap in his face because for months you’d been the one waiting and now, that he finally wanted your attention..
you were gone.
the next few days were hell,
at first ryul kept telling himself he was overthinking, you just needed time, that’s all
you’d answer eventually because you always did, except this time you didn’t, his messages remained unread, his calls went unanswered and somehow every day that passed made the silence feel louder
the worst part was that he had absolutely no idea what to say anymore, every message sounded stupid.
ryul: hey
deleted.
ryul: how are you?
deleted.
ryul: can we talk?
deleted.
ryul: i’m sorry..
deleted.
sorry for what?
because there wasn’t one thing to apologize for, there were hundreds,
hundreds of little moments, little absences, little disappointments and none of them could fit inside a text message
meanwhile your account kept appearing on his feed, except now there was less of you, there were less stories, less updates, slowly fhere was less everything
a week ago you’d posted 3 times a day, now it was once, then every few days, then nothing.
and once again, people noticed immediately,
where is she?
hope she’s okay :(
miss your videos queen
taking a break?
he found himself checking your page constantly like some kind of addict,
refresh.
nothing.
refresh.
nothing.
refresh.
nothing.
at some point even others on the show noticed, they were backstage preparing for another performance when one of the guys looked over,
“you look like shit,”
normally ryul would’ve laughed but instead he just stared at his phone,
“thanks,”
“girlfriend?”
his stomach twisted and he looked away, which was answer enough
the other guy sighed, “that doesn’t sound good bro,”
“i know,”
“then fix it,”
if only it were that easy.. because every time he reached for his phone he froze, every time he opened your chat he felt sick, because he wasn’t sure he had the right to ask for your attention anymore
and that terrified him, so much
days passed and you disappeared completely..
no posts, no stories, no lives, literally nothing.
at first everyone assumed you were taking a break buf then people started getting worried and it didn’t take long before the articles started,
“concerns grow for lifestyle influencer yn after sudden social media absence”
“fans express concern over recent appearance””speculation surrounding influencer’s wellbeing continues”
ryul hated every single headline because he didn’t have answers either,
one evening he walked into the apartment and immediately found woojin,
“yo,”
woojin looked up, “what,”
ryul hesitated, which already felt strange because he never hesitated, not like this at least
“have you heard from yn?”
woojin’s expression immediately softened, then dropped questioning, “..no?”
something sank in ryul’s chest, “nothing?”
“nothing,”
he tried sounding casual buf obvious failed,
“not even a text?”
woojin shook his head, “last thing she sent me was a reaction pic,”
silence.
“like 2 weeks ago?”
2 weeks? 2 weeks? 2.. weeks..
the number echoed in his head,
and a little later he found ohyul, asked the same question but got the same answer,
for the first time a genuinely horrible thought crossed his mind, what if nobody knew where you were? what if you were alone? what if something actually happened?
the panic finally became unbearable and that same night he messaged your assistant, then your best friend, who was the first one to reply,
ryul stared at the screen reading the message over and over again,
friend: she’s okay
the relief hit immediately.. but followed by dread because there was more?
friend: she just wants space right now.
his fingers immediately moved,
ryul: why?
the familiar 3 dots appeared quickly,
friend: she didn’t want to bother you.
the words hit harder than any insult ever could, he stared at his phone, suddenly unable to move or even to breathe,
another message followed.
friend: every time i told her to talk to you she said you were busy
another;
friend: and every time i told her she looked exhausted she just brushed it off
ryul physically sat down, because he could hear your voice again, “he’s just busy, he’s stressed, he’s working hard, he didn’t mean it, he loves me..”
the realization felt unbearable because you never got angry, you never screamed, never even demanded his attention, you just kept making excuses for him until eventually there was nothing left,
his phone buzzed,
another message.
friend: and ryul?
friend: stop trying to figure out what happened.
friend: she already did
he frowned.
ryul: what?
the response came immediately,
friend: she spent months looking for answers by herself, she already forgave you
that was the problem..
his chest tightened, because he understood exactly what she meant, you’d created your own explanation, your own closure, your own reality, one where ryul wasn’t a bad person, one where nobody was really at fault, one where you simply weren’t meant for each other
because it was easier that way, easier than waiting, easier than hoping and easier than getting hurt..
for the first time since all of this started, ryul felt genuinely terrified, because people fought for things they still wanted, but acceptance?
acceptance was dangerous, acceptance meant letting go,
were you letting go..?
that night a message finally appeared, it was from you and his heart nearly stopped, he opened it instantly,
just one sentence.
you: i’m okay, don’t worry
that’s all, nothing else,
his fingers moved immediately.
ryul: baby
but before he could finish, another message appeared,
you: i just need some space
and suddenly he couldn’t breathe, because the message wasn’t angry or emotional, it wasn’t even sad?
it was calm.. horribly calm,
the kind of calm that only came after crying about something for so long you ran out of tears,
the kind of calm that happened when someone was already halfway gone,
the next morning he was standing outside your apartment, he didn’t remember driving there or making the decision, he just knew he couldn’t sit still anymore, after several knocks the door opened,
you looked surprised, but not shocked or emotional,
just tired.. so unbelievably tired,
“ryul?”
he hated how formal his name sounded, hated how distant and unfamiliar..
“can i come in?”
you hesitated but stepped aside, the apartment was quiet and he followed you inside,
he immediately noticed things, little things, things he would’ve missed before, things he couldn’t stop seeing now, the fridge; nearly empty, a few drinks, half a container of fruit but nothing else
his stomach twisted..
then the living room, shopping bags stacked neatly beside a shelf,
he frowned, “what’s this?”
you glanced over, “nothing,”
he looked closer, then froze, because every bag had his name written on it; birthday gifts, small things you’d bought over months, a hoodie he’d mentioned once, a vinyl record, snacks, little presents, all unopened and untouched
waiting.. waiting for a moment that never came, his chest hurt,
then he noticed the calendar hanging on the wall, covered in little pink hearts and stickers, at first he smiled because it looked exactly like something, you’d make, then he stepped closer and the smile disappeared,
date night, crossed out. movie night, crossed out. dinner, crossed out. aquarium, crossed out. café, crossed out.
dozens of them, months worth..
his vision blurred because suddenly every crossed out plan became real, every promise, every cancellation, every “next time”, every “i’m busy”, every “sorry baby”
all of it.. documented, sitting on your wall, proof he couldn’t ignore anymore,
slowly he turned around and you were standing by the kitchen, watching him.
“you kept track?”
your expression softened, not happily but more sadly, like someone remembering an old memory, “at first,”
at first.
the words shattered something inside him because at first meant eventually you stopped, eventually you stopped expecting him to come, stopped hoping, stopped waiting,
you looked away, staring down at your hands and when you spoke your voice was so gentle it almost destroyed him,
“it’s okay,”it wasn’t, but you continued anyway, “i get it now,
his stomach dropped, “get what?”
you smiled softly, the kind of smile people gave when they were trying not to cry, “we’re just different people,”
every word felt like a knife, “you have your world,”
another knife, “i have mine,”
another, “and maybe i kept trying to force something that wasn’t supposed to work,”
ryul stared, he was unable to move because now he’s here.. he realized what you’d done,
you’d spent months building this explanation, piece by piece, trying to make sense of the hurt, trying to make sense of his absence, trying to make sense of why someone who loved you could still make you feel so alone and eventually you’d found an answer, not because it was true but because it hurt less and somehow that realization hurts more than he could ever imagine, because standing there in your apartment, surrounded by unopened gifts, cancelled dates, all the empty spaces where he should’ve been,
ryul finally understood,
you hadn’t stopped loving him, you’d simply started teaching yourself how to live without him, you hadn’t stopped loving him, you’d simply started teaching yourself how to live without him,
the silence that followed felt unbearable and ryul couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t even look away from you,
because for the first time since all of this started he understood exactly how close he was to losing you,
and the realization was horrifying to him
“don’t,”
the word slipped out before he could stop it and your eyebrows pulled together slightly, “what?”
“don’t do that,”his voice sounded strained, almost desperate, “don’t decide that for me,”
you looked confused because you’d already accepted it, you’d accepted something he hadn’t even realized was happening,
“ryul-”
“don’t,” he shook his head immediately, “please,”
the word sounded pathetic, small and nothing like him, nothing like the cocky rapper everyone knew, nothing like the guy who walked into every room like he owned it,
because suddenly none of that mattered, not the music, not the show, not the career, none of it
not when he was standing in your apartment realizing he might’ve broken the best thing he’d ever had,
you stared at him quietly, waiting and somehow that was even more painful, because you weren’t fighting him, you weren’t yelling or crying, you just looked tired and ryul would’ve preferred screaming, he would’ve preferred anger, anything except this, anything except acceptance,
“i know what this looks like,”
you laughed softly, “do you?”
the question hit hard, because honestly? no, he didn’t,
not until now, not until the empty fridge, the gifts, the calendar, the silence, all the things he’d somehow missed, all the things he’d never noticed
“i was so focused on the show,” his voice cracked slightly,
“i know,”
“no,”he shook his head, harder, frustration building,
not at you but at himself, “no you don’t understand,” he dragged a hand through his hair,
already spiraling, already struggling to explain something he barely understood himself, “i got obsessed,”
the word hung in the air,
“every day was rehearsals and meetings and interviews and recording and planning and more rehearsals and more meetings and every day i kept thinking-“
he laughed bitterly, “i’ll call her tomorrow,”
your chest tightened, “ryul-”
“no i’m fr,” he kept going, the words coming faster now, like a dam finally breaking, “every day-“ another laugh, angrier this time, “i kept saying tomorrow,”
he pointed toward the calendar, toward all the crossed-out plans, “tomorrow i’ll make it up to her,” his voice cracked, “tomorrow i’ll take her out,”
another crack,”
“tomorrow i’ll call..”
another, “tomorrow i’ll have more time..”
silence.
“and then suddenly months passed,”
the apartment felt painfully quiet and you looked away first, unable to watch him because there was something so strange about hearing it out loud,
he wasn’t lying.. that was the problem, he wasn’t lying, he’d just forgotten, forgotten over and over and over again, until forgetting became normal
“i know i hurt you,”his voice sounded rough and raw,
“i know that,”
you looked at him again and what you saw made your chest ache, because he looked terrified.. genuinely terrified,
“but don’t tell me we’re not meant for each other,” he swallowed hard, “don’t say that,”
“why?”
the question came quietly, not cruelly, just honestly, because you genuinely wanted to know, you weren’t trying to win an argument, you were trying to understand,
“because that’s not what happened,” his answer came immediately without hesitation,
“then what happened?”
ryul stared at you and for a second he couldn’t speak, because how was he supposed to explain this? how was he supposed to explain that he loved you so much it physically hurt but somehow still managed to make you feel alone?
he stepped closer, slowly, carefully, like he was afraid you’d disappear or step away from him, “you think i stopped loving you,”
your eyes widened slightly, because that wasn’t what you’d said, but somehow he’d found the real wound anyway, the one underneath everything else,
“you think i stopped choosing you or i found something better,”
he stopped, “..or someone better,”
your gaze dropped immediately and that was all the confirmation he needed, the sight almost destroyed him because somehow after everything, after all these months, you still thought the problem was you.
“baby-“ his voice cracked completely, “look at me,”
you didn’t,
“please,”
slowly your eyes lifted and ryul’s entire heart broke, because there was still love there, still so much love, but there was hurt too and exhaustion.. and disappointment, the kind that came from trying for too long,
“there isn’t anyone else,” his voice shook, “there was never anyone else,”
you didn’t answer, which scared him because months ago you would’ve believed him immediately, months ago you would’ve laughed but now you just looked uncertain and that terrified him,
“you wanna know something embarrassing?”
you blinked, confused by the sudden question and he laughed weakly,
“i’m obsessed with you,”
you stared, “ryul
“no seriously,” he looked half crazy at this point, half panicked and completely unraveling, “i’m actually so obsessed with you,” another laugh, another crack in his voice, “you think i don’t notice things?”
his eyes scanned the apartment, “i know which makeup products are your favorites,”
you froze,
“i know which keychain goes on which bag, which pair of shoes you wear when you’re nervous,”he stepped closer again, “i know which hoodie you steal when you’re sad,”
another, “i know which side of the bed you sleep on when you’ve had a bad day and how you take your coffee, j know every single stupid little thing about you,” his eyes started watering and that shocked you more than anything,
because ryul never cried..
“you’re my favorite person,”
the confession came out broken, raw and super honest,
“you’re literally my favorite person on the planet,”
you looked away immediately, tears threatening, because part of you wanted to believe him, part of you always would, “then why did i feel so alone?”
the question shattered him completely, because there wasn’t an answer, not a good one at least, not one that could undo the damage, just the truth.. a horrible truth,
he hadn’t noticed, he’d been selfish, careless, thoughtless and by the time he finally looked up..
you were already drowning.
his hand moved to cover his mouth, like he physically couldn’t breathe, “i don’t know,”
tears finally slipped down your face, exhausted tears, not dramatic ones, the kind that came after months, months, months of trying and seeing you cry was somehow worse than anything else, because now he knew, he finally knew, this wasn’t one bad week,
this wasn’t one misunderstanding or one argument,
this was months of accumulated hurt sitting between you, months he could never get back, months you spent missing him while he wasn’t paying attention,
“i’m so sorry,” his voice cracked, “i’m so fucking sorry,”
and for the first time since entering your apartment, ryul looked genuinely scared, not scared of being yelled at or getting blamed, not scared of consequences..
but scared of losing you, scared that he’d realized everything too late, scared that while he was busy promising himself tomorrow.. you’d finally reached a point where you no longer needed him to show up at all,
for a long time neither of you spoke and the apartment felt too quiet, too full of things that should’ve been said months ago,
ryul stood a few feet away from you, looking completely lost and terrified and for the first time since you’d met him he somehow looked young, not the confident rapper everyone knew, not the guy who could walk on stage in front of thousands of people without blinking, just a 19 year old guy realizing he might’ve ruined the best thing that ever happened to him,
“say something,”his voice was barely above a whisper,
you stared at the floor, then laughed softly, not because anything was funny but because suddenly you didn’t know where to start, where did you even begin? with the cancelled dates? the unanswered messages? the nights spent staring at your phone? the comments? the loneliness? which part hurt the most?
you weren’t even sure anymore, “i don’t hate you,”
the words slipped out quietly and you watched relief flood his face, instant relief like he’d been holding his breath, like those were the words he’d been desperately hoping to hear,
until-
“that’s the problem,”
the relief vanished instantly, replaced by confusion, fear..
“d-what?”
you looked away because suddenly this was harder than you’d imagined, harder than crying, harder than being angry, harder than pretending everything was okay.
“i don’t hate you,”you repeated, “i’m not angry anymore,”
the silence that followed felt unbearable because ryul knew those weren’t good things, not anymore, not said like this,
“baby…”
your eyes filled with tears again and this time you didn’t stop them, you didn’t hide them, didn’t pretend,
“i was angry,” your voice shook, “for a long time,”another tear slipped down, “i was so angry,”
you laughed weakly, wiping at your face, “every time you cancelled,”another laugh, “every time you forgot,”
you sighed, “every time i sat there waiting for a text,”
ryul physically flinched and you saw it, but kept going anyway, because he deserved to know, “every time your name popped up on my phone i got excited,” your voice cracked, “and then it would be some 2 word reply,”
his eyes squeezed shut,
“or you’d promise to call,” another crack, “and then you wouldn’t,”there was a small silence, “or i’d tell you something important and you’d forget,”
you chuckled in disbelief, “or i’d see another clip of you and djessy,”
immediately his head lifted, “baby i swear-”
“i know,” you cut him off softly, “that’s not the point,”
but somehow that’s even worse, because even now you were still defending him, you looked exhausted, like someone who’d been carrying something heavy for too long,
“you know what the worst part was?” your voice barely rose above a whisper
ryul shook his head, unable to speak,
“i kept making excuses for you,”your gaze dropped to your hands, “i told myself you were busy and tired and that you loved me,”
his chest tightened violently,
“because i knew you did,” your voice broke completely, “but that made it hurt even more, because if you loved me…” you laughed weakly through tears, “…then why was i so lonely?”
the question shattered whatever was left inside him, because there wasn’t an answer, there never had been
only guilt and regret, only the horrible realization that you’d been suffering while protecting him from blame,
“everybody kept asking me what was wrong, your voice sounded distant now, like you were remembering something, “and every time i defended you,”you smiled sadly, “i got really good at it,” you chuckled softly,
ryul felt physically sick, because he could picture it, every conversation, every excuse, every defense, every time you’d chosen him, even when he wasn’t choosing you back..
“and eventually…”you hesitated, looking around your apartment, at the gifts, the calendar, the empty spaces, all the evidence, all the months and all the hurt, “eventually i got tired,” the words were simpl but they hit harder than anything else, because tired wasn’t dramatic, tired wasn’t fixable, tired was what happened after trying for too long,
ryul felt panic rise immediately, “don’t,”
your eyes lifted, “what?”
“don’t say that,”his voice sounded desperate now, completely desperate,
“why?”
because he knew, he knew exactly what came after tired; acceptance, letting go, moving on.
he stepped forward, then another, until he was standing right in front of you, his eyes were glassy, voice shaking, “because i’m scared,”the confession slipped out before he could stop it
you froze and so did he, because ryul never admitted things like that, never
“i’m scared,” he repeated, quieter this time, more honestly, “i’m really fucking scared,”
your heart cracked, because he looked terrified, like genuinely terrified, like the ground beneath him was collapsing,
“i know i hurt you,” his voice shook, “i know i did,”
tears filled his eyes and somehow that scared you too, because you’d never seen him like this, not once.
“it sounds like you’re already saying goodbye,”
your throat tightened, because maybe he wasn’t entirely wrong, maybe not goodbye but something close, something that looked like acceptance, something that looked like learning how to survive without him and the realization seemed to hit him too, all over again, because he understood you weren’t standing here wondering whether he loved you,
you’d already answered that question yourself, you weren’t waiting for reassurance anymore, weren’t waiting for explanations, weren’t waiting for him, you’d already started building a life around his absence, you’d adapted, the way people adapt to injuries, the way people adapt to loss, until eventually the hurt became normal, until eventually they stopped expecting things to be different,
ryul’s face crumpled, “baby..”his voice cracked completely, “please don’t be done,”
the words hung in the air,
nothing like him, nothing like the confident man everyone knew, just a terrified boyfriend begging the girl he loved not to give up on him,
“please,” another crack, another tear, “i know i don’t deserve that right now,”his chest rose unevenly, “i know i don’t,”
you felt tears sliding down your own face again, because for the first time.. he really understood, not just what happened, but what it had cost and standing there in front of you, looking completely shattered, ryul finally looked like someone who understood that losing you wasn’t a possibility anymore, it was something that had already started happening..
and he was desperately trying to stop it before it became permanent,
it was quiet again, the kind of quiet that hurt, the kind where every breath felt too loud, every movement felt too heavy,
ryul stood in front of you looking completely broken, for months you’d imagined this conversation, imagined what you’d say, imagined finally telling him how much he’d hurt you, imagined finally being understood, but now that it was happening, it didn’t feel good, it just felt sad
really, really sad.
“i’m not done,” the words left your mouth quietly,
and ryul froze completely because he wasn’t expecting that, he’d prepared himself for goodbye, he’d prepared himself for hearing that he was too late, that he’d ruined everything, that he didn’t get another chance.
your eyes stayed fixed on the floor, unable to look at him.
“i just…”your voice cracked, “…don’t know how to do this anymore,”
that hurt him more than anything, more than anger or accusations, because suddenly he understood, you weren’t leaving because you stopped loving him,
you were exhausted, you’d run out of ways to keep holding everything together by yourself
tears slipped down your face again, “i miss you,”
the confession came out broken and ryul physically felt his heart shatter,because you sounded so sad, so genuinely sad.
“i miss you all the time,”you laughed weakly wiping your face, “which is stupid because you’re not even gone,”
another tear, “you’re right there,”your chest tightened, “i see you online, i see interviews, i hear people talk about you, but somehow i still miss you,”
ryul’s eyes squeezed shut because every sentence felt like a knife, because he knew exactly what you meant, he’d been physically present in the world,everywhere,
except where you needed him,
you looked around the apartment, at all the little pieces of your life, and suddenly everything came pouring out, months of it, all at once,
“i’d buy things and think you’d like them,” your voice shook, “and then i’d realize i didn’t know when i’d see you next,”
his chest tightened and you pointed vaguely toward the gifts,
“those started as one thing, but i kept buying things and eventually i just stopped trying to give them to you,”
ryul looked over toward the bags, the evidence of all the moments he’d missed and the guilt became unbearable,
“i kept waiting,” your voice cracked, “for things to go back to normal and for the show to end so you’d have more time,”you sighed deeply,
the tears wouldn’t stop now, months worth of hurt finally surfacing, finally escaping, “and every time i thought things were getting better..” your shoulders shook, “..they got worse again,”
ryul couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t stand there listening, couldn’t stand there watching you cry not when he was the reason,
“baby,”his voice broke, “baby please,”
you shook your head immediately, not rejecting him but just overwhelmed,
“i tried so hard,”the words came out as a sob, your first real sob, the first one you’d let escape all day and it destroyed him completely,
“i know,”
“i tried so hard,”another sob, “i really did,”
your hands covered your face and suddenly all the composure disappeared, all the acceptance, all the calmness, gone, because underneath it all you were still hurt, still grieving and still heartbroken.
“i know,”
ryul stepped closer, very carefully like approaching something fragile, “i know,”
“i kept telling myself i could handle it,” your voice muffled behind your hands, “i kept saying it was temporary,”
another sob, “i kept saying you’d come back,”
that one broke him because he understood you’d spent months waiting for him, believing in him, trusting him, while he was too distracted to realize you needed him.
his own eyes filled again and before he could stop himself, he dropped to his knees infront of you,
he physically couldn’t stay standing anymore, couldn’t keep looking down at you, couldn’t keep pretending he deserved the distance between you,
your breath caught immediately because this was ryul,
your ryul, the cocky one, the stubborn one, the one who never bowed his head for anybody and yet here he was.
looking completely shattered,
you slowly lowered your hands and the second he saw your face, all red eyes and tears and exhaustion, he almost cried again, because this was what he’d missed, not the crying, not the pain, but the fact that he should’ve been here, months ago, the first time you cried,
the second time, the third, all of them, he should’ve been here,
“i’m so sorry,” his voice shook violently, “i’m so sorry,”
again and again like he couldn’t stop saying it, like he needed you to understand,
“i know that doesn’t fix anything,” another tear slipped down his face, ““i know it doesn’t, but i need you to know i see it now,”
his hand moved, hesitating and waiting, only touching yours when you didn’t pull away,
“i see all of it,” his fingers tightened just slightly, he sounded devastated, genuinely devastated, it wasn’t defensive or angry, just devastated..
“i see it,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “and i hate myself for it,”
immediately you shook your head, “don’t,”
because despite everything, despite all the hurt, you didn’t want that, didn’t want him destroying himself, didn’t want him suffering, you just wanted him back.
and somehow that realization hurt too, because after all of this, you still loved him,
ryul let out a shaky laugh, one full of tears, full of disbelief, “you know what’s insane?”
you looked at him, confused,
“after all this you still care,”
and for the first time that day something softened between you, not fixed or healed, just softer, because maybe the love never left,
maybe it just got buried, buried underneath loneliness, underneath disappointment, underneath months of hurt,
but it was still there..
and ryul looked at you like he’d just realized he’d been given something he didn’t deserve, something precious, something he almost lost forever.
his thumb brushed gently against your hand, like he was afraid you’d disappear,
and when he spoke again his voice was barely a whisper,
“if you’ll let me..” his eyes filled once more, “i want to earn my way back,”
not fix, not erase or pretend,
earn
because for the first time, he finally understood what he’d broken,
and for the first time, he was willing to take responsibility for putting the pieces back together.
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𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ─── seonghyeon, who quietly yearns for you ever since he laid eyes on you, and watching you became his favorite habit
★ seonghyeon × fem!reader
word count ── 4.7k
˖᯽ ݁˖ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 coco speaking here! I ALWAYS LOVED THE IDEA OF A GUY YEARNING FOR A GIRL SO I DECIDED TO WRITE SEONGHYEON PERSPECTIVE OF HIM YEARNING FOR Y/N SINCE WE DONT GET ENOUGH GUYS PERSPECTIVE OF FALLING IN LOVE 𖧧 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
Seonghyeon thought he was exceptionally skilled at concealing things. Years of carefully manufactured nonchalance had turned secrecy into second nature.
He concealed fatigue behind indolent, crooked smiles after grueling basketball practices. Buried frustration beneath sarcastic remarks sharp enough to provoke laughter from his teammates. Even the bruises mottling his knuckles disappeared beneath oversized hoodie sleeves, hidden alongside burdens he never verbalized aloud.
No one ever looked closely enough to notice, and Seonghyeon preferred it that way.
He preferred remaining untouchable, easygoing, unserious, effortlessly admired. The kind of boy everyone thought they understood despite never truly knowing him at all.
So when he realized he liked you—truly liked you—he assumed this would remain hidden too. A transient infatuation, something fleeting.
He was so wrong, because somehow, against all logic, his attention gravitated toward you with humiliating consistency.
It began subtly enough for him to dismiss it. A passing observation during class, nothing more.
You sat near the window two rows ahead of him, perpetually arriving several minutes before the bell rang. Morning sunlight filtered through the glass behind you, spilling molten gold across your desk until it looked almost cinematic. Your earbuds were usually tucked beneath your hair, expression serene and unreadable while pages turned beneath your fingertips.
You rarely spoke voluntarily, yet when teachers called upon you, your voice emerged soft but unwavering, composed with an intelligence that never sounded rehearsed. Simply quiet in a way that felt intentional.
There was an immeasurable distinction between silence born from insecurity and silence born from self-possession.
You embodied the latter effortlessly. Seonghyeon noticed things others overlooked entirely.
The rhythmic tap of your pen against the desk whenever concentration overtook you. The slight furrow between your brows during difficult equations, as though mathematical concepts had personally offended you. The way your lips moved faintly while reading paragraphs beneath your breath.
Small details, but somehow they embedded themselves inside his memory with alarming permanence, and that was the problem. Seonghyeon kept looking, far longer than necessary. Long enough for it to become dangerous.
“Dude.” Keonho’s voice shattered his trance one sluggish afternoon.
The classroom buzzed faintly with post-lecture conversation, chairs scraping against the floor while students packed belongings into bags. Seonghyeon blinked slowly, dragged back into reality.
“What?” he muttered.
Keonho didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze followed Seonghyeon’s line of sight toward the front of the classroom—toward you.
You were laughing softly at something your friend had whispered, shoulders relaxing in a way Seonghyeon rarely witnessed during lessons. Sunlight illuminated the curve of your smile, warm and effortless enough to make his chest tighten unexpectedly.
Keonho turned back toward him with dawning realization. “Oh,” he said.
Keonho looked unconvinced. “You’ve been staring at the same girl for ten minutes straight.”
“I was not.”
“You absolutely were.”
Seonghyeon scoffed, leaning back lazily in his chair despite the sudden tension coiling beneath his ribs. “You’re imagining things.”
“No,” Keonho replied slowly, amusement beginning to creep into his expression, “I’m definitely not.”
Seonghyeon reached for his notebook too quickly, shoving it into his bag with unnecessary force.
Keonho’s grin widened immediately. “Oh my god.”
“Shut up.”
“You literally smiled at her out of nowhere.”
That silenced him instantly, because apparently he had, and judging from the sheer disbelief written across Keonho’s face, it must have looked devastatingly obvious.
Seonghyeon felt heat crawl uncomfortably up the back of his neck. Impossible. He was careful, always careful.
Keonho stared at him like he’d uncovered classified information. “Seonghyeon,” he whispered dramatically, leaning across the desk, “you like someone, a girl in our class specifically.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I really don’t.”
“You looked at her like she personally descended from the heavens.”
“Okay so that’s not even-.”
“Don’t even lie bro.”
Seonghyeon rolled his eyes instinctively, but the reaction lacked its usual sharpness. His gaze betrayed him again, flickering unconsciously toward you. Still smiling, still talking. Completely unaware of the catastrophe unfolding several rows behind you.
An unbearable fondness settled heavily inside his chest, and suddenly he understood why poets wrote insufferable things about yearning, because liking you felt strangely catastrophic.
The terrifying realization that his attention sought you instinctively in every crowded room. That his mood inexplicably improved whenever your laughter drifted through hallways. That even mundane moments became memorable solely because you occupied them.
Keonho watched his expression transform in real time. Then he groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “Dude, you’re actually gone gone oh my fucking god.”
“I hate you.”
“No this is amazing.” Keonho laughed quietly. “The great Seonghyeon finally losing his mind over a girl who probably doesn’t even know he exists.”
At that, Seonghyeon’s jaw tightened slightly, because that was the cruelest part. You probably didn’t.
To you, he was merely another familiar face in overcrowded hallways. Another student passing by between classes. Another athlete surrounded perpetually by noise and admiration and effortless attention.
Meanwhile, Seonghyeon noticed everything about you with terrifying precision. The sweaters you wore repeatedly when exhausted. The books tucked beneath your arm. The infinitesimal lift of your lips whenever someone held the door open for you.
You existed quietly, but somehow you occupied his thoughts with deafening intensity, and no matter how desperately he attempted to suppress it. Wherever you were, his eyes followed instinctively, as though drawn by something far beyond his control.
You confused him, not in the exasperating, incomprehensible way people often described attraction. No—this was far more insidious.
You bewildered him in the sort of way that cultivated curiosity so profound it bordered on obsession. The kind that compelled him to memorize trivial details without intention. The kind that made him wonder what songs played through your earbuds every morning, what thoughts occupied your mind during long silences, what kind of life existed beyond the quiet exterior you presented to everyone else.
Seonghyeon had encountered beautiful girls before. Plenty of them.
Girls who lingered after basketball games beneath fluorescent gymnasium lights, offering compliments laced with practiced flirtation. Girls who laughed too loudly at mediocre jokes and touched his arm too frequently during conversations. Girls who competed shamelessly for his attention because attention from Seonghyeon had somehow become valuable currency within the school.
But you, you never pursued him, never hovered nearby hoping to be acknowledged.
Half the time, Seonghyeon wasn’t even certain you recognized the effect you had on people around you, and perhaps that was precisely what rendered you so impossible to ignore.
Your indifference unsettled him. Not because it bruised his ego, but because it felt authentic in a world saturated with performance. You existed without demanding to be perceived.
There was something almost ethereal about that quiet self-assurance, something infinitely more captivating than loud charisma could ever hope to achieve.
Then one afternoon, he witnessed a version of you he had never seen before, and it ruined him completely.
Classes had just ended, releasing students into the golden haze of late afternoon. Warm spring air drifted lazily through the school courtyard, carrying fragments of conversation and distant traffic beyond the gates. Leaves rustled overhead in soft murmurs while clusters of students flooded the sidewalks in restless currents.
Seonghyeon stood near the entrance with Keonho, absentmindedly spinning a basketball against his palm while only half-listening to whatever story Keonho was animatedly telling beside him.
Something about practice schedules, or a teacher, or food. He couldn’t remember afterward, because then he heard it.
Your laughter.
Not the restrained, polite smile you wore during lectures. Not the soft exhale of amusement he occasionally caught when friends whispered comments beside you in class.
This was entirely different. It rang through the air unexpectedly bright—clear and effervescent enough to slice cleanly through the surrounding noise. Genuine amusement illuminated every syllable, unguarded and vibrant in a way that made his pulse falter instinctively.
Seonghyeon’s head turned before he consciously processed the movement, and there you were.
Across the street near the convenience store, surrounded by three friends beneath shifting sunlight filtering through tree branches overhead. A cold drink rested loosely against your chest while laughter bent your body forward slightly, shoulders trembling beneath the force of it.
Your eyes crinkled beautifully at the corners. Your smile lingered radiant and unrestrained. You looked alive. Not that you hadn’t before, but this was different.
In class, your quietness resembled still water: composed, elegant, difficult to read. Yet standing among people you trusted, you transformed entirely. Every movement became animated with warmth. Your expressions softened openly; your gestures carried effortless affection as you nudged one friend teasingly while another nearly doubled over laughing beside you.
It was astonishing, like watching sunlight suddenly break through heavy clouds.
Seonghyeon forgot how to breathe properly for a moment. Forgot Keonho’s voice. Forgot the basketball rotating lazily against his fingertips. Forgot the entire world surrounding him.
His attention narrowed with humiliating precision until all he could perceive was you. You, smiling so brightly it physically ached to witness. You, tilting your head back while laughter spilled freely into the open air.
You, looking lighter somehow—as though whatever burdens weighed upon you during quiet classroom hours vanished completely beside the people you loved.
Beautiful.
The word surfaced instinctively within his mind, but even that felt insufficiently devastating, because beauty implied something distant. Something merely admired.
This felt infinitely more dangerous. Something warm unfurled slowly inside his chest, spreading with frightening inevitability. Not sudden or explosive, but gradual—like sunlight creeping across frozen skin after enduring winter too long.
And Seonghyeon realized, with startling clarity, that he wanted to become someone capable of making you laugh like that.
He wanted to exist within the orbit of your happiness. Wanted to know which jokes dissolved you into helpless laughter. Wanted to learn the stories hidden behind your smiles. Wanted to witness every version of you concealed beneath the composed silence you carried through hallways each morning.
The realization struck him with terrifying force, given that this wasn’t superficial attraction anymore. This had surpassed that long ago.
Seonghyeon barely registered the comment. His gaze remained fixed across the street as though magnetized beyond his control.
You reached forward suddenly, brushing crumbs from your friend’s sleeve while grinning at something else being said. The gesture was absentmindedly affectionate, so natural and tender that it tightened something unbearably delicate within his ribcage.
God.
You were gentle, even your happiness looked gentle.
Keonho followed his line of sight before exhaling dramatically. “This is getting embarrassing.”
Still, Seonghyeon said nothing, because how could he possibly explain this feeling?
How could he articulate the strange ache blooming beneath his sternum simply from witnessing you happy? It made no rational sense.
Yet there he stood beneath amber sunlight and rustling trees, surrounded by noise and conversation and movement.
Completely undone by the sight of your smile lingering long after the laughter itself had faded away, and perhaps that should have frightened him more than it did.
Since Seonghyeon finally understood something dangerous then. He could spend hours watching you exist and never grow tired of it.
After that, Seonghyeon began encountering you everywhere, or perhaps encountering wasn’t the correct word.
Noticing felt more accurate, because you had likely always existed within those spaces long before he started paying attention; he had simply become incapable of overlooking you anymore.
At least, that was the excuse he repeated to himself whenever his gaze sought you instinctively in crowded corridors or across bustling streets.
It wasn’t intentional, it couldn’t be. But, somehow you materialized constantly within the edge of his existence, appearing so frequently it began to feel almost cruel.
He saw you in hallways between classes, weaving gracefully through congested crowds with textbooks pressed protectively against your chest. Students flowed chaotically around you in loud clusters and hurried conversations, yet you moved with quiet composure untouched by the surrounding disorder.
He noticed you in the library too.
Curled cross-legged on the floor beside low bookshelves because every table had already been occupied, papers spread carefully around you while soft music leaked faintly from your earbuds. Fluorescent lighting cast pale illumination across your features as you highlighted passages with meticulous concentration, occasionally pausing to rub tired eyes before continuing again.
And during rainy mornings, he spotted you at the bus stop outside campus, shoulders tucked inward against the cold while sleep still lingered visibly across your expression. Sometimes you yawned softly into your sleeve. Sometimes your head tilted back toward the grey sky as though mentally preparing yourself for the exhaustion awaiting you inside the school building.
Each sighting embedded itself inside his memory with alarming permanence, like fragments of a life he desperately wanted access to.
Then one evening, entirely by accident, he discovered where you worked. The convenience store near the gym, and suddenly Seonghyeon understood why fate was dangerous.
The realization struck him immediately upon entering. He froze so abruptly near the automatic doors that one of his teammates nearly collided into his shoulder from behind.
“What’s wrong with you?” someone muttered.
But Seonghyeon barely heard them, because there you were.
Standing behind the register beneath sterile fluorescent lighting, wearing an oversized store uniform that swallowed your frame slightly. Your nametag hung crookedly near the collar of your sweater as though you’d pinned it on hastily before your shift began. A few strands of hair had escaped whatever weak attempt you’d made to tidy it earlier, leaving them scattered messily around your face.
You looked exhausted. There were faint shadows beneath your eyes, subtle evidence of accumulated fatigue no amount of polite professionalism could entirely conceal.
But somehow you still looked devastatingly beautiful. Not in the polished, intimidating way magazines portrayed beauty. Yours felt softer than that, human. Real enough to ache over.
Seonghyeon’s chest constricted painfully. His teammates continued deeper into the store, loud voices echoing carelessly between aisles, but he remained rooted near the entrance like an idiot.
Then you looked up. Your expression shifted instantly into polite customer-service warmth. “Welcome.”
The single word obliterated him. It wasn’t special, logically, he knew that.
You probably greeted dozens of customers exactly the same way every shift, offering identical smiles and identical politeness until closing hours exhausted you completely.
But hearing your voice directed specifically toward him made something malfunction catastrophically inside his brain. His heartbeat stumbled hard enough to feel physically disorienting.
“Seonghyeon?” One teammate frowned from the snack aisle. “You planning on standing there all night?”
“Yeah,” he answered immediately, or attempted to. His voice emerged rougher than intended, startling even himself. Humiliation crawled beneath his skin.
He forced himself to move forward, trying desperately to resemble a normal human being rather than someone seconds away from cardiac arrest over a girl scanning convenience store items.
Unfortunately, proximity only worsened everything, suddenly he became acutely aware of details he should not have been noticing so intensely.
The absentminded way you tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear while operating the register. The faint sheen of lip balm catching harsh fluorescent light whenever you spoke. The exhaustion softening your features whenever no customers required your attention. The tiny crease forming between your brows while counting change.
Seonghyeon felt insane, completely and utterly insane. He purchased an energy drink first.
Then he lingered near the refrigerators pretending to contemplate additional options before returning with chips. By the time he approached the register a third time holding gum he didn’t even like, his teammates had stopped pretending not to notice.
One of them snorted loudly from nearby shelves. Another looked seconds away from tears from trying not to laugh.
You, meanwhile, stared at him with growing suspicion. “…Did you forget something?” you asked carefully.
Seonghyeon wanted the floor to split open beneath him. “I just—”
Then his mind blanked entirely, because you were looking directly at him. Patiently, quietly.
Your eyes reflecting pale convenience store lighting while waiting for his answer. Pretty, dangerously pretty. Every coherent thought abandoned him instantaneously.
“I like gum,” he finished weakly.
Silence.
Then one teammate nearly collapsed against the counter laughing.
“Shut up,” Seonghyeon muttered through gritted teeth without looking away from you.
And then—Your lips twitched, not fully. Just the slightest upward curve threatening briefly at the corners of your mouth before disappearing again.
But Seonghyeon noticed it immediately.
Of course he did.
He noticed everything involving you. That tiny almost-smile replayed inside his mind for the rest of the evening with devastating clarity, and somehow, impossibly, his feelings only deepened afterward.
Day after day, like warmth gradually permeating cold skin until eventually you realized you no longer remembered what freezing felt like.
Liking you became interwoven with the fabric of his routine so seamlessly he stopped recognizing where ordinary observation ended and yearning began.
Without intending to, he memorized your habits. You always purchased strawberry milk on Thursdays after your longest lecture.
Before examinations, you remained inside the library later than everyone else, surrounded by color-coded notes and exhaustion.
Whenever concentration overtook you completely, you chewed lightly against the inside of your cheek.
And every Friday evening after your shift ended, you sat alone outside the convenience store for exactly ten minutes before leaving.
Those ten minutes became sacred to him. Not because he spoke to you, usually he didn’t. He simply liked witnessing you without the careful composure you carried during school hours.
You sat beneath flickering streetlights with your bag resting beside your feet, shoulders finally relaxed after hours of work. Sometimes you stared absently at passing cars. Sometimes you closed your eyes briefly like you were savoring the silence after an exhausting day.
Seonghyeon found those moments unbearably tender. There was something intimate about being allowed to observe another person existing quietly when they believed no one was paying attention.
Then came the rain, violent and sudden.
One Friday evening, dark clouds ruptured overhead without warning, releasing sheets of rain heavy enough to drench sidewalks within seconds. Water battered against pavement mercilessly while neon reflections shimmered across puddles gathering near the curb.
Seonghyeon had been across the street with Keonho when he noticed you standing beneath the store’s narrow awning.
Your cardigan looked pitifully thin against the cold. You hugged your arms closer around yourself while staring unhappily toward the storm.
Something inside him reacted before logic intervened.
“Where are you going?” Keonho called after him.
Seonghyeon ignored him completely. Rain soaked through his hoodie almost immediately as he crossed the street quickly, shoes splashing through shallow puddles accumulating along the pavement.
You looked startled when he appeared beside you beneath the awning. “Hi,” you said softly.
And somehow that single syllable tightened his chest embarrassingly fast. “Hi.”
For several moments, neither of you spoke. Rain hammered relentlessly around the small shelter, cool air carrying the scent of wet asphalt and distant traffic lights reflecting against slick streets. Thunder murmured faintly somewhere far away.
Seonghyeon glanced upward toward the darkened sky. “You waiting for someone?”
You shook your head gently. “I forgot my umbrella.”
Without hesitation, he extended his toward you.
Your eyes widened. “What?”
“Take it.”
“You need it too.”
“I live close.” A complete lie, his apartment was nearly twenty minutes away.
You frowned slightly. “But you’ll get soaked.”
Seonghyeon almost laughed at the concern in your voice, because if you asked him to stand beneath freezing rain for hours just to keep you company, he probably would have done it willingly.
“It’s fine,” he murmured.
Then you looked at him—really looked at him, and suddenly the atmosphere beneath that tiny awning shifted unbearably.
You were standing far too close. Close enough for him to notice droplets of rain clinging delicately to your lashes. Close enough to smell your shampoo beneath petrichor and damp fabric. Close enough to see exhaustion lingering faintly beneath your eyes despite your gentle expression.
His heartbeat became erratic. Unsteady enough to embarrass him.
“You’re nice,” you said quietly after a long pause. The statement sounded almost astonished. As though kindness directed toward you was something unfamiliar.
Seonghyeon swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in his throat. “You make it easy.”
The words escaped before he could restrain them. Immediately, panic surged through him. Too honest—far too honest.
Your eyes widened slightly.
So did his.
For one horrible second he considered throwing himself directly into traffic, but then your expression softened. Warmth unfolded slowly across your features until it settled there so gently it physically ached to witness.
“…Thank you,” you whispered.
And Seonghyeon realized with terrifying certainty that he was already far beyond saving. He had fallen hopelessly in love with you.
After that, things between you and Seonghyeon shifted. There was no singular, cinematic moment where the atmosphere transformed overnight, no abrupt confession unraveling beneath moonlight or reckless declaration shouted across crowded hallways.
Instead, the change emerged gradually, like dawn seeping through curtains before anyone consciously realizes darkness has disappeared.
You began waving at him whenever your paths crossed between classes. Small gestures, brief moments. Yet they altered him embarrassingly fast.
At first, your waves were tentative—slight lifts of your hand accompanied by soft smiles that appeared almost instinctive whenever your eyes found him in crowded corridors. But eventually those moments became natural, woven seamlessly into the fabric of daily routine.
And every single time it happened, Seonghyeon felt something warm unfurl beneath his ribs. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic.
Keonho noticed immediately, of course. “You smile like an idiot whenever she looks at you,” he remarked one afternoon while walking toward practice.
Seonghyeon shoved him lightly. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious. It’s disgusting.”
Yet despite the ridicule, Seonghyeon couldn’t stop himself, there was something devastating about being acknowledged by you so effortlessly.
You looked for him now. That realization alone nearly ruined him. Sometimes you paused beside his desk before class to ask harmless questions about assignments. Other times you stopped him near stairwells just to complain quietly about upcoming exams or difficult professors.
The conversations themselves were insignificant, However, Seonghyeon replayed every single one afterward with humiliating precision.
Your voice lingered in his head long after you walked away. He remembered specific inflections. Particular expressions. The exact cadence of your laughter whenever he said something unexpectedly funny.
And god, your humor. No one warned him about that. You weren’t loud about it. Your jokes arrived subtly, concealed beneath soft observations and perfectly timed comments delivered with an almost absentminded sincerity that caught him entirely off guard.
The first time you made him laugh hard enough to bend forward slightly, he stared at you afterward in disbelief. You looked startled too, then pleased. The sight nearly stopped his heart.
He liked hearing you talk. Not because you filled silence constantly, but because you chose your words carefully. Thoughtfully. There was intention behind everything you said, as though conversations mattered to you in ways most people overlooked.
Perhaps what unsettled Seonghyeon most was the realization that you saw him differently too.
Not as the basketball captain. Not as the effortlessly popular boy everyone else seemed determined to reduce him into. You looked at him like he was simply Seonghyeon.
A boy who got tired after practice. A boy who liked stupid convenience store snacks and terrible music. A boy whose sarcasm concealed softness more often than not.
The simplicity of that recognition affected him more profoundly than applause after games or admiration from strangers ever could. With you, he never felt like he needed to perform.
One evening after practice, exhaustion clung heavily to his body as he wandered toward the library in search of quiet.
The campus had begun settling into dusk, golden sunlight stretching languidly through tall windows while shadows lengthened slowly across polished floors. The library itself remained nearly empty, hushed silence interrupted only by the occasional turning of pages somewhere deeper inside.
Then he saw you, and immediately forgot how exhausted he’d been.
You sat tucked into a secluded corner near the back shelves, surrounded by open textbooks and loose papers scattered chaotically across the table. Highlighters rested uncapped beside notebooks overflowing with meticulous handwriting.
Somewhere amidst studying, sleep had overtaken you completely. Your head rested against folded arms, pencil still loosely secured between relaxed fingers. Strands of hair spilled carelessly across your face while the setting sun enveloped everything around you in molten amber light.
Beautiful.
The word struck him with painful force, not because of polished perfection, not because of aesthetics. But, there was something unbearably tender about the sight before him.
You looked exhausted, real in a way that made his chest ache violently.
Seonghyeon stopped walking, then stayed there far longer than he should have. Simply watching, admiring. He expected nothing from you. Didn’t require your attention or affection to justify the intensity of his feelings.
Looking at you had simply become his favorite thing in the world. The realization should have terrified him more than it did.
Warm sunset light illuminated the curve of your cheekbones softly, dust particles drifting lazily through the air around you like fragments of gold suspended in time. The library’s silence wrapped around the moment delicately, intimate enough to make his heartbeat slow.
You stirred slightly in your sleep. Your brows furrowed faintly as the oversized sweater hanging from one shoulder slipped lower.
Before thinking, Seonghyeon moved closer carefully, almost reverently. His fingertips brushed the fabric gently as he adjusted it back into place, movements slow enough to avoid waking you, like touching something infinitely precious.
The contact lasted barely seconds, yet his pulse reacted catastrophically anyway.
Then your eyes opened. Sleep lingered visibly within them as your gaze lifted immediately toward his face, unfocused for half a second before recognition softened your expression entirely.
And then you smiled.
God.
That smile would destroy him someday.
“Practice ended?” you asked quietly, voice roughened by sleep and exhaustion.
The sound settled directly beneath his ribs. “Yeah,” he answered softly.
You pushed yourself upright almost immediately, embarrassment flickering across your face as you glanced at the mess of notes surrounding you. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“You looked cute.”
Silence.
Seonghyeon froze, he hadn’t meant to say that aloud.
Your eyes widened slightly. Heat rushed violently across your cheeks, and judging from the warmth burning beneath his own skin, he probably looked equally horrified.
He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, gaze darting anywhere except your face. “I mean—not cute like—I just meant—”
You laughed quietly. Affectionate enough to unravel him instantly.
Seonghyeon looked up automatically, and there it was again. That brightness, that impossible warmth existing only for him in moments like these.
You studied him silently for several seconds, expression gentler than he’d ever seen before. Then, almost shyly, you spoke. “I like when you look at me like that.”
His breath caught immediately. “What?”
“You always look at me like I’m…” You hesitated briefly, fingers tightening slightly around your pencil. “Important.”
The confession struck him harder than any impact he’d ever endured on the court, you sounded genuinely uncertain, as though the possibility had never occurred to you before.
Seonghyeon stared at you helplessly, completely, devastatingly helpless.
You were important, more important than basketball. More important than popularity, expectations, victories, reputation. More important than anything occupying his life lately.
You had woven yourself into every corner of his thoughts without permission. Into mundane routines and fleeting moments and quiet evenings he once navigated without noticing how lonely they were beforehand.
He stepped closer before fear could stop him. The fading sunlight between you turned everything softer somehow.
“You are,” he admitted quietly.
Your expression transformed instantly. Something fragile appeared there. Tender enough to make his chest tighten painfully.
He loved the sound of your laughter drifting unexpectedly through crowded hallways.
Loved the concentrated crease forming between your brows while studying. Loved your quietness, your kindness, your subtle humor hidden beneath soft-spoken words. Loved the way every room shifted whenever you entered it, as though his entire body recognized your presence before his mind could process it.
He loved discovering you everywhere. Loved memorizing details no one else considered significant. Loved every fleeting interaction you offered him so casually, unaware of how precious he considered each one.
He loved you entirely.
Also, judging from the way you were looking at him now—with warmth unfolding slowly across your features like sunlight after endless rain
summary; you’re upset he didn’t tell you he was leaving again, and he’s way too entertained by your reaction. every time you try to stay mad, he pulls you closer, jokes instead of defending himself properly, and somehow convinces you that being angry might not be your strongest position right now
warnings; argument, upset reader, ohyul not taking her seriously, kiss, petnames
wc; 1,7k - requested
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
you slam the door harder than you meant to, mostly because you know he’s already home and you want him to hear it,
and he does.
“you’re back early,” he calls from the couch, voice calm, almost amused
you don’t answer,
you kick your shoes off instead, toss your bag down, and turn to him with that look already burning behind your eyes
“wow,” ohyul calls from the couch, voice light, “someone’s in a mood,”
he’s exactly where he was before; relaxed, stretched out like he’s got all the time in the world, like you’re not standing there about to explode..
that’s what sets you off first,
“don’t talk to me like that,” you snap immediately,
his brows lift slightly, “like what?”
“like i’m being dramatic,”
a pause..
then he hums, slow, “are you not being dramatic?”
you stare at him and he just smiles
that small, annoying, entertained smile that makes your blood heat instantly,
“don’t,” you start immediately, pointing at him like it’ll stop him from speaking, “don’t do that thing where you act like nothing’s wrong,”
his brows lift, “what thing?”
“that thing,” you snap, stepping closer, “you didn’t tell me you’re leaving. again. i had to find out from someone else, like i’m just- what, a fan? a stranger? what is this, ohyul?”
his lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile
“you didn’t tell me,” you repeat, voice already rising
he leans his head back against the couch, still watching you like you’re a show he doesn’t want to pause,
“i was going to tell you,” he says casually, a small smile still lingering on his face
“when?” you shoot back, “after you were already gone? when i’m sitting here wondering why my boyfriend suddenly disappears like a ghost?”
“i don’t disappear like a ghost,” he says, completely unfazed
you scoff, “oh really? what would you call it then?”
“work,”
“don’t be smart with me right now, stop smiling,” you accuse, voice sharpening
“i’m not smiling,” he says, but he absolutely is, “i’m listening,”
“no, you’re not listening, you’re just sitting there like- like this is funny,”
his eyes drift over you in that slow, infuriating way, like he’s watching a performance he already knows the ending to,
and then, because he has absolutely no survival instincts, he says,
“you look really good when you’re mad,”
you pause,
then you get even angrier,
“are you serious,” you say slowly,
he shrugs, like actually shrugs
“i’m telling you something serious,” you say, louder now, “and you’re sitting here like it’s entertainment to you,”
“it is a little entertaining,” he admits
that does it
you step closer, “ohyul, i’m not joking, i found out you’re leaving the country from someone else, not you, someone else!”
his expression shifts slightly at that, just for a second
but then he ruins it immediately by leaning forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees like he’s suddenly more interested,
“okay,” he says, “that part.. yeah, that’s fair,”
you blink, thrown off for half a second,
then he adds, softer but still smug,
“but you’re still really cute when you’re mad,”
you let out a frustrated sound, “oh my god, are you serious right now? i’m literally talking about you not telling me you’re leaving the country and you’re- what- admiring me?”
“no i’m listening too,” he says simply,
you scoff, pacing a step back, then forward again like your body can’t decide whether to fight him or leave,
“you’re actually impossible,”
you glare at him
he just tilts his head, still way too calm, still watching you,
he finally stands up then, slow, but still way too entertained, “i was going to apologize,”
“was?”
he steps closer, “i still am,”
you try to hold your ground, but he’s right there now, and it’s harder to be angry when he’s looking at you like that..
like you’re the only thing pulling him in
“you’re not actually that mad,” he says quietly, like he’s testing it
“i am,” you argue back
he takes a step closer, “you’re just hurt,”
your voice drops, “don’t psychoanalyze me right now,”
his eyes soften for half a second, then immediately ruin it by glancing down at your lips like he’s bored of the little self control he has when he’s around you
“i should’ve told you,” he admits, “i know, i’m sorry,”
you stare at him, still breathing hard,
“that’s it?” you ask, “that’s your apology?”
he smiles again, “no,”
and then, because he’s him, he reaches for you like it’s the most natural thing in the world
you immediately swat his hand away,
“don’t,” you warn,
he pauses, looking mildly amused again, “don’t what?”
“i was going to tell you,” he says, “i just.. kept putting it off, i didn’t want you to get upset,”
you let out a humorless laugh, “wow mission accomplished,”
“yeah,” he admits, a little sheepish now, but still annoyingly composed, “you’re pretty good at being upset,”
you finally look back at him, “don’t flirt your way out of this,”
“i’m not flirting,” he says, absolutely flirting, reaching out for your hand again
you yank your hand back, but he catches your wrist anyway, immediately pulling you closer instead of letting you escape the conversation like you usually do
“stop pulling me in,” you mutter,
“stop looking at me like that then,” he shoots back,
“like what?”
his eyes flick down to your lips for half a second before returning to your face, “like you want me to shut you up,”
you hate how close he is now
you hate more that he looks completely calm about it,
“you’re impossible,” you say, voice shaking more from frustration than anything else,
“you already said that,” he replies,
“yeah because you are,”
his hand finds your waist and you don’t move away,
“i’m sorry,” he says softly.
“i’m not done yet,”
“you’ve been talking for ten minutes,” he says
you glare at him
and he just smiles like he’s won something
“you’re enjoying this,” you scoff
“a little,” he admits
you shove his chest lightly, “you’re so annoying,”
he catches your wrist before you can pull away, but instead of stopping you, he just keeps it there between you
“yeah,” he says, voice lower now, “i’m sorry yn, i should’ve told you,”
you open your mouth to argue again-
and he leans in like he’s about to kiss you, but you turn your face away instantly
he laughs under his breath, like he expected it,
“are you gonna keep this up?” he murmurs,
“yes,” you say immediately
“liar,” he says again
his thumb brushes your wrist slowly,
you hate that it makes it harder to stay mad
“i’m actually going to kill you,” you mutter,
“you’re not,” he says calmly,
you hesitate,
because he’s still looking at you like that..
and you’re still mad..
but not mad in the way you were a few minutes ago,
“you’re still annoying,” you say finally,
he smiles, “i know,”
his hand slides to your waist anyway, like he already knows the answer, like he’s always known
he doesn’t rush you, just stays there, close enough that your anger has nowhere to go except into him
“you’re not making this better,” you whisper
“i’m not trying to,” he says honestly, then softer, “i’m trying to fix it,”
you finally look at him again
and this time you don’t move away when he leans in to press a soft kiss on your lips
it’s sweet and gentle, like he’s waiting for you to decide he’s forgiven,
when you don’t push him off, he deepens it just slightly, hand tightening at your waist like relief
when he pulls back, he’s still smiling
“you’re still mad,” he says,
you glare at him weakly, “don’t start,”
he brushes his thumb over your side, “i didn’t mean to upset you baby, i just didn’t know when to tell you,”
“you should’ve just told me immediately,”
“i know,” he sighs, “but-“
“no but,” you cut in, “there’s no ‘but’ to this,”
he only smiles, still that annoying, amusing little smile,
“can you stop smiling, i’m being dead serious,” you groan softly
“i’m sorry,” he chuckles, “what can i do to make it up to you?”
“you tell me,”
“we’ve got an hour until ryul comes back,” he says casually, like he’s talking about the weather, “so you can either keep complaining.. or we actually make use of the time,”
you blink,
“are you being for real right now?”
he looks entirely unbothered. “you’re the one standing this close to me after yelling for 10 minutes,”
your mouth opens,
then closes..
he leans in again, voice dropping just enough to make your thoughts short circuit, “you’re really hot when you’re mad, you know that?”
“oh my god,” you mutter, but you don’t move away
his grin widens, “yeah like that,”
“you’re not getting away with this so easily,” you scoff
“what?” he grins, “you’d rather have ryul here when we do it?”
“we’re not doing anything,” you say, glaring up at him
“say that again like you mean it,” he chuckles, pulling you closer by your waist
“ohyul-“
“yn,”
“no,”
“yes,”
“you’re not getting away with this so easily,” you scoff, still glaring up at him
he pauses,
just for a second
then he exhales a quiet laugh, like he’s actually amused by you holding your ground,
“yeah?” he murmurs,
his hand stays at your waist, but he doesn’t pull you closer this time, just looks at you properly
“so,” he says softly, “go on then, what do i have to do?”
you blink, “that’s not-“
“answer the question,” he interrupts, but his tone is still teasing, not demanding
you shove his chest lightly again, “you have to listen,”
“i am,” he says, leaning in just enough that his voice drops again, “i just don’t think you’re actually mad anymore,”
you open your mouth-
then stop, because he’s right, and he knows it
you glare at him anyway, “you’re still not getting away with it easily,”
his grin returns, slower this time
“good,” he says. “didn’t want it easy,”
and when he kisses you again, it’s like a truce you didn’t formally agree to
IN SUMMARY : Your crush finds out you have a back tattoo and is a tiny bit handsy
Pause ⏸ : Its been wayyyyyy too long since i wrote about my man. Open ended, slightly suggestive, had me giggling so much ;P
James' birthday parties were always like this.
Not overwhelming, just full.
The kind of gathering where everyone knew everyone through someone, the music was always good, and by a certain point in the night the living room stopped being a living room and felt more like a club. You'd been coming to these since you were seventeen, perks of being one of his best friends. You knew the layout of his apartment better than some of your own friends' places.
You'd arrived with Ryul and Isol, the three of you showing up together the way you usually did to things like this. Ryul had driven, Isol, who’d been chilling in the backseat, had complained about her shoes being too tight the whole time. You’d been in a good mood, touching up your makeup and fixing your hair before leaving the car.
You were in a better one now.
It was the dress. Specifically what the dress did, or didn't do, at the back.
You'd gotten the tattoo just under two weeks ago.
Ryul had been there for the whole thing, considering the fact that he did it. So had Isol, sitting beside you, forearm steady under your hand when the needle hit a spot that made you want to be anywhere else, talking about nothing in particular to keep your mind moving.
They’d both seen it at every stage since. Fresh and wrapped, then peeling, then finally settled into your skin the way it was always supposed to look.
Fine line work stretching from your lower left to your upper right. Two loosely sketched flowers connected by swirls that moved like they'd grown there. It was gorgeous and you knew it.
Tonight was the first time you were wearing it openly.
No cardigan or covered shirt. Just the backless-dress and the tattoo and the party, and every so often you'd catch someone's eyes drop to your back and come back up and you felt great about it.
Ryul had noticed your outfit the second you'd walked out of your room before leaving. Had looked at you for a long moment with that unreadable face of his and then said, simply, "yeah okay." Which from him was basically a standing ovation.
–--
The three of you had been near the kitchen for most of the night. Isol was telling a story about something that had happened at work, the tattoo parlour, hands moving, getting more animated by the minute. Ryul was leaning against the counter with his drink, listening with that quiet expression he wore when he was actually paying attention. You were beside him, half listening, eyes moving around the room the way they did when you were comfortable somewhere.
That was when you saw Ohyul.
He was across the room talking to a small group, relaxed and unhurried, laughing at something someone had said. You'd known he would probably be here. James was mutual to basically everyone in your extended circle. It wasn't surprising.
You looked for exactly a second and then looked away.
Isol had gotten to the punchline of her story, apparently some 16 year old french kid had come into the parlour, begging to get a huge sleeve done, and you laughed along, and Ryul made some dry comment that made all three of you go again, and the night kept moving.
–
The playlist shifted somewhere around eleven.
It happened gradually.
Something with more bass crept in, the lighting felt lower even though nobody had touched it, and people started drifting toward the center of the living room in that slow inevitable way. The furniture had already been pushed to the edges.
With a little sway in thought, you decided. "I want to dance," you said to nobody in particular.
Isol pointed at her shoes with an expression that said everything. Ryul looked at you with the calm, unbothered face of someone who was exactly where he wanted to be and had no intention of moving.
"Have fun," he said, nodding toward the floor.
You handed him your drink and went.
–--
The song was good. The kind of song that made it easy to just move, to stop thinking about anything specific and let the music do what it was supposed to do. You found a space on the floor and settled into it, easy and unhurried, the room warm around you.
You weren't thinking about anything.
You weren't thinking about Ohyul, specifically, or where he was in the room, or whether he could see you from wherever he was standing.
Which is why you felt it before you understood it.
Hands.
Finding your hips from behind like they already knew where to go.
You didn't startle. Didn't turn around. Just felt the warmth of them settle there, broad and certain, thumbs pressing in slightly at the curve of your waist. Whoever it was moved with you, matching your rhythm so naturally that it took a moment to register that someone had joined it at all.
You knew who it was before you turned.
Something about the specific way his hands sat on you. Unhurried. Like he had decided and wasn't second guessing it.
Ohyul.
You let it happen. Kept moving. His hands stayed where they were, not pushing or pulling, just there. One thumb tracing a slow arc against your hip that you weren't sure he was even aware of. The music was loud enough that the rest of the room had dissolved into something ambient and irrelevant.
Across the room, Isol said something low to Ryul, a smirk on her lips.
Ryul looked over. Took in the full picture. Ohyul's hands, your back, the way neither of you were talking and said nothing. But anyone could see the proud grin on his lips as he lifted his drink to his mouth.
Isol looked at him, expecting a better reaction. He looked back at her like he genuinely didn't.
On the floor you leaned back.
Just slightly. Just enough that your back met his chest, and you felt him exhale slow, felt his hands settle heavier at your hips in response. His head dipped down, close enough that you felt the breath of air against your neck before you heard him.
"I didn't know you had a back tattoo."
His voice was deep, sounding out right at your ear.
You turned your head just enough to look at him over your shoulder. He was already looking at you, close and unhurried, with eyes that weren't trying to hide a single thing.
"Just got it," you said.
He held your gaze. His thumb moved at your hip again, slow and absent.
"Yeah?" he said quietly.
You faced forward again. Kept moving. His hands stayed.
"How long ago?"
"Two weeks."
He hummed in approval. His head stayed dipped, close enough that you were acutely aware of every point of contact between you, his chest at your back, his hands at your hips, the warmth of his breath when he spoke.
"I can't really see it properly," he said. "Lighting in here is terrible."
You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to force away a smirk.
"Shame," you said.
A beat. His thumb stilled at your hip. You could feel him looking down at your back even now, the particular quality of attention that had been on you all night finally making complete sense.
"I'd like to though," he said. Unhurried. Completely unbothered about saying it. "See it properly."
You turned your head again, slower this time, and found him already watching you with that same open, unguarded expression.
"Then let's go somewhere you can," you said quietly.
His hands shifted at your waist, eyes moving over your face once, something settling in them like a decision being made, and then the corner of his mouth curved up.
sყnopsis ⋮ you asked your boyfriend about the moment he noticed he was in love with you... in an unrelated situation ᘏᘏᘏᘏ ot4 x gn!reader, no warnings!
◝◜ ~1k w/c each ᘏᘏ requested ᘏᘏ navigation ◝◜
O1. kwon ohyul
there is something about mornings with ohyul that isn't easy to put into words.
maybe it's about how protected you feel when his arm is holding you in place, as if he were afraid that you'd leave in his sleep. no harm or danger in this world can reach you when his grip is so gentle, so warm, so needy.
or maybe it's about the unmeasurable amounts of love in your chest when his fingers start running through the sensitive skin of your arms—just how you like to be woken up.
life becomes easier when you two melt into each other. worries feel lighter and the pain that comes with growing up fades away: the sunlight filtering through the curtains of your room, the birds chirping, and your boyfriend opening his eyes at the same time you do.
there’s a whole mechanism to make sure that always happens; it’s not just a romantic coincidence, it’s a formula. ohyul doesn't just wake up or wake you up out of nowhere—he moves. he tosses and turns, makes these tiny little sounds, accidentally "uncovers" you, pulls you into a tighter hug… until you're both sure the other isn't in the middle of some deep sleep phase anymore.
and there’s comfort in that, too. in the weight of the blanket covering both of you, in the way his body is always warmer, acting like an extra layer of protection. it’s in the little kisses he gives your shoulders, your back, and your ears before you’re even fully awake—since he always seems to brighten up faster than you do. it’s in the muffled, incomprehensible praises he mumbles with his very first breath of the day.
"morning," he muttered, voice raspy and low, his thumb reaching for your cheek to caress it.
you weren't quite sure what time it was. what you definitely knew was that you still wanted to sleep, at least for a little longer. but ohyul wasn't a late sleeper; he'd squeeze the best out of every single one of his mornings and drag you with him because «it's healthier than rotting in bed.»
and if he came to you like this—brushing his hands all over your face, detangling your hair, pecking your nose… how could you not let him be and be with him?
"five more minutes," you begged, rotating to your other side, your back now facing him, eyelids dropping again.
"c'mon," he giggled, now spooning you. his body fit perfectly against yours, his leg wrapping around your waist just to annoy you. "wanna have breakfast in that fancy spot you saw on instagram last night?" he whispered to your ear.
that was unfair. he knew it always worked on you, just like offering a treat to a kid would.
"i'm listening," you replied, squeezing one eye open, turning your head just enough to see his face.
he kissed your shoulder at that, smiling against your skin. with no rush in his movements, he hooked his arm around you and pulled you toward him, making you land on your back. he hovered over you, his gaze soft before his lips met yours passionately.
the kiss was messy and slow, as always: mornings were the time of your lives.
your synchronized mouths were just slightly open, your breaths still heavy and tasting of sleep. yet, there wasn't a trace of disgust or hesitation in the slow, steady, grounding way his tongue rhythmically played against your lower lip.
his hand found its way to your hip just as your fingers caught the hair at the back of his head, pulling him closer, trying to bridge the tiny gap for a hug.
that intimacy was what made your relationship so special. the cutesy, the innocence, the purity. the peace of two souls madly in love with each other.
"this is all i ever wished for," he said, breaking the kiss, not being able to take his eyes off you.
"us kissing without brushing our teeth?"
"waking up next to you, asshole," one last peck on your lips before getting comfortable at the crook of your neck, his head resting on your arm. "couldn't get the idea out of my head since i imagined it for the first time."
"and when exactly was that?"
his hand, that was tracing circles on your stomach, stopped. just as he swears his heart did.
he dead stared at you in silence, the weight of the question sinking in.
"i…" he cleared his throat, trying to recall. "we were just friends. you crashed at my place because it was the nearest place and it was raining too bad outside. i opened the door to a stray puppy," he cackled, the memory hitting him just right. "you were dripping wet from head to toe, your hair all frizzed, your eyeliner all over your face. i had to lend you a towel and clothes, and then your phone wouldn't turn on…"
"and i asked you for a bowl of rice because i thought it would come to life again that way," you added, reminiscing so neat it felt like it was yesterday and not a year ago.
"yes, and you were laughing and joking about the whole thing, explaining why you didn't have an umbrella with you in the first place and even tossing your clothes into my dryer without asking, while i was still mopping up the floor you ruined."
"… is that it?"
"that was the day i thought to myself that this beautiful chaos was all i needed," he shrugged, his hand resuming its circling on your tummy once again.
"you fell in love with me at my worst-looking moment? even though i was a mess?"
"i fell in love with that mess," he clarified, his eyes getting a little watery. "with the rawest version of you, because i knew it was the one i'd wanna wake up to for the rest of my life."
O2. kim ryul
there's nothing worse than spending hours stirring food in a pot, chopping vegetables, and adjusting the heat, only to discover in the last taste before serving that maybe you added more salt than required.
and that's what happened that night.
ryul and you agreed to cook together and watch a movie, but as always, 'cooking together' translates into cooking by yourself while he yaps sitting at the table, either playing minecraft or just staring at you, complaining about how woojin and louis annoyed the shit out of him at the dorm.
the kitchen was a complete mess. wheat flour was scattered all over the counter, and the balloon whisk was dripping right onto where the onion scraps rested on the cutting board instead of in the trash. but the kitchen would just have to wait until you could clean it yourself later, because if you relied on your 'super-assistant,' you’d die waiting.
every now and then he’d make a little noise, or curse under his breath when a creeper exploded nearby or when he forgot some crafting material. he also complained about the respawn point being way too far from all his builds and how much he hated going to the nether with ohyul, because video games were the only weakness he knew of that man, which was maybe a good thing for later.
he would sometimes glance over at you, but even if you were wiping the steam off your forehead with the back of your hand, he wouldn't get up from the laptop at the dining table. it wasn't because he was a bad boyfriend or because he was lazy, but because he was terrified of you: that mess we already mentioned? he had made all of it by accident. and that’s how it usually went. he’d burn the meat when you tried to grill, he had no idea how to make rice, and soups would always boil over on him, staining the entire stove.
but he had one unavoidable job, and he loved it.
"ryul, can you taste this? i think it's too salty," you asked, a spoon of thick, white béchamel cream held between your fingers as you walked over to him.
"don't even ask." he would never turn down the opportunity to proof-taste the food. it was his task to conduct the quality control, at the end of the day. if something went wrong, it would be entirely his fault. he took this great power with great responsibility, as one would expect him to do.
he blew on it a little to avoid burning himself (as has happened in the past for getting too desperate with the delicious aroma of anything edible) and carefully tasted what you gave him. his expression turned serious as if he were savoring a five-star dish, suddenly putting more pressure on you. "just a little more cooking, that's all."
"what?" you replied, incredulous. "isn't it over-seasoned?"
"it’s perfect," he cupped your face and poked the tip of your nose, smiling. "i’m the taster, trust me." he raised his palm and furrowed his brow, as if giving a final verdict.
ryul would never say your food tasted bad, no matter how off it might be. or would he? you convinced yourself of that, at least. "i don't want to trust your skills today."
"why?"
"biased taste buds."
"i'm in love with you, i wouldn't lie. especially not about food," he said, turning off his laptop, finally tired of playing for the day. his attention was finally for you and only you. "i don't play when it comes to food. or to you," a wink.
"since when have you been in love with me?"
he clicked his tongue, maybe a little annoyed by the way the question was phrased. "you better be joking."
"i don't mean it that way, dummy," you rolled your eyes with a smirk, your hands back in action at the stove, opening the pack of pasta. "i mean, when did you know you were in love with me?"
he looked away in silence toward a fixed point on the horizon, right where his eyes wouldn't touch you or anything else, as if dissociating helped him remember. "well…" he took a deep breath, sighing. "i don't know."
"i see," you snapped, pouring the pasta into the pot of boiling water. "thanks."
"don't start," he warned. "let me finish."
he gently pulled you away from the stove, his hands guiding your body’s movement from your waist, trapping you between the counter and his body. he rested his forehead against yours, a pout forming on that face that only knew two expressions according to jay. "it just happened," he whispered. "i can't tell when i knew i was in love with you because i think i've always been and i was simply too distracted to notice what was going on."
"but then you should remember the moment you actually noticed what was going on," you blurted out, gritting your teeth.
he had to remember something. a date, a moment, a flavor, a word, a smell… how could he not remember a single detail?
"that was when i asked you to be my girlfriend," he snapped back bluntly. "it caught up to me, dear. i was way too involved and way too deep when i named what i felt. and i asked you out that day, because i also noticed it was reciprocal."
"but i've been head over heels for you since august, and you asked me in february… did it take you that long?" you looked down for the first time since the conversation started, your faces still so close that the breath from every word warmed each other's skin.
he let out a dry chuckle, one that only you would manage to get out of him. "you fell first," he stepped back, the scent of his cologne fainting in the air, his index finger pointing up as he turned off the stove to strain the pasta soon. "i fell harder."
O3. jung woojin
"woojin, i told you i can do it!" you protested once again, sure that adding a little stomp on the ground would be enough to convince your boyfriend not to carry your shopping bags.
deep down, you knew damn well that the task was impossible.
"i don't care if you can do it," he argued, his free hand finding yours to squeeze it tightly. "i don't want you to."
his left arm was packed with bags of all kinds, colors, and sizes, some heavier than others. he didn't seem to be struggling despite the crazy amount and how crowded they looked against his lean frame; in fact, he looked like he was actually enjoying it.
it wasn't something easy to be sure of because his sunglasses hid his eyes, but the rest of his body has always been an expert at speaking for him, more than his words or his gaze ever could.
"i don't know why you're so stubborn," you shook your head in disapproval, feeling a bit embarrassed. "you're already paying for everything."
"i don't know why you won't just let me love you," he countered, his thumb caressing the back of your hand already intertwined with his, his voice softening with every word. "your only job today is to try on clothes that make you feel pretty. the rest is on me," he turned to look at you intently, tilting his head down just enough so you could see the seriousness in his eyes behind the lenses. "bags included. and don't exaggerate, we're thrifting, not buying dior."
and well, if he insisted…
the truth was, you loved this. the fact that he was so attentive, so thoughtful, so in love. that translated into a thousand ways through his actions, but going shopping was the one you both liked the most.
you could spend hours walking through the city streets, discovering new flea markets and hidden shops tucked away in some quiet corner, always holding hands and telling stories.
he liked carrying the bags because that way, when it started getting hot, you could feed him his chocolate sundae, and when he took you home, you’d let him lay on the couch with you for a while.
he also liked paying to make sure you always had all the things you wanted, but his favorite part was helping you find the pieces that flattered you most, and then styling them once they were in your closet.
out of shyness, you always asked him not to do any of that. luckily, he never gave in to those pleas. you probably would've been really sad if he actually had.
"uh, let’s go in here," he stopped in front of a smoothie shop, and you could've sworn his mouth was watering by the way he licked his lips. "we could use a break while we figure out what else we need. i think some belts, and maybe a beanie or a red cap."
"smart," you nodded, taking his sunglasses and pushing them up into his hair, lightly brushing your fingers against his cheek.
"always," he winked, pushing the glass door open for both of you. "the usual?" he asked, letting all the bags drop onto one of the tables and patting his pockets in search of his wallet.
you snorted, "you know my usual in smoothies?"
"how long do you think we've been together, weirdo?"
"less than a year."
"long enough," he retorted, sliding his card out of the wallet. "be right back," he added, walking away to order.
you watched him walk over to the counter, bowing to the cashier before handing over his card. "why is he so cute?" you thought to yourself. then, you looked down at the pile of thrifted bags next to you, and at your own reflection in the glass window, casually wearing some clothes he had once helped you pick out.
butterflies started doing weird things in your tummy, and that is when a full inquiry popped up in your head.
he placed them on the table and pulled up his chair to sit down. you took your glass, tracing figures on the condensation with your finger, before looking up to him. "when did you realize you were in love with me?"
he raised his eyebrows in surprise, looking down at you. he tapped his nose twice, and finished pulling his chair closer to sit without breaking his silence. "to what do i owe the question?"
"curiosity," you replied, taking a sip of your cold drink.
"the number one reason why cats die," he teased, stirring his drink with his favorite bamboo straw.
"good thing i'm not a cat."
"liar."
he stopped to think for a few seconds that felt like an eternity, his drink still untouched. "it was the first time we went shopping, actually," he spoke, tapping his fingers from pinky to index on the table. "when you tried on the exact outfit you're wearing right now and asked me if i liked it."
"give me all the details," you whined, throwing a little childish pout his way.
"there are no details," he shrugged, offering a soft, unapologetic smile. "you asked me if those clothes looked good on you, and i just realized you could be wearing a potato sack and you’d still be the most beautiful girl on the planet to me," he finally took a small sip of his drink. "and that i was already screwed for life."
"recovering from that?" you teased.
"not a single bit," he declared, his voice firm and unwavering, leaving no room for doubt. "every time we go shopping, i remember that day all over again. you still make me nervous when i see you trying on new clothes," he confessed.
"because my beauty and my fashion are stunning?"
"because you gave me the key to help you in such an important task," he blushed, his hand reaching across the table to squeeze yours. "it's like getting to know you better every time you try out a new style. and i never want to stop getting to know you."
O4. lim louis
do you know how annoying it is to be about to cross the finish line and hear a blue shell coming right to you?
yeah. that wasn't the case this time.
you and louis were sitting in the tiny space between his bed and the tv, cross-legged on the cold floor. a bowl full of chips sat between you two, chips that you'd occasionally grab in fear of losing focus. one single movement, and louis could win. you didn't wanna give him that chance.
to be playing the rainbow road circuit, you lucked out by winning the race. and it was 150 cc. you were totally the mvp of the day… right?
louis let out a long sigh, dropping his head back against the edge of the mattress. he let the wii controller rest on his lap, dramatically staring at the ceiling.
you glanced at him, a grin forming on your face as you nudged his shoulder with your elbow.
"you let me win," you stated, convinced.
"why would i?" he mumbled. "you got better. who you've been practicing with?"
"louis, you did,"
"i didn't,"
"you did,"
"i freaking didn't,"
"yes, you freaking did," you rolled your eyes, taking a fist full of chips from the bowl and stuffing them into your mouth. "don't cap," you said, still chewing.
"stop it with the ASMR" he sat up, a disgusted voice tone. "you're just good," looking at the final standings on the screen.
"i've seen you play against the guys," you snapped, taking the controller away from his lap. "you always beat them. and they're all better than me."
"them? better than you?"
"don't give me that."
"and what if i did let you win, huh?" he blurted out, ripping his controller from your grab. "you want me to play like i hate you? is that what you're asking for?"
you chuckled. "do you hate the guys?"
"kinda," he giggled. "promise you won't get mad at me."
"oh, so you're admitting," you caught him. "i promise."
"lemme show you why, then."
he pressed the 'rematch' button so hard you swear it could be broken now.
and well, this time… he sadly didn't hold back for you.
you'd like to know where he learned how to dodge every single item you'd throw at him, and how he memorized every shortcut of the circuit. you should have seen this coming, him winning like it was nothing.
and he reacted just like that, as if it was nothing. the bread of every day.
you stared at the screen in awe, your jaw dropping slightly. you tossed your controller onto the bed behind you and stood up, annoyed. "never again, jourdain," you huffed, refusing to look at him.
"you know i love you."
you slowly turned your head back to look at him, a mischievous spark making you forget what just happened. "when did you realize that?"
louis's eyes went wide. "w-what?" he stuttered.
"when did you know you loved me?" you repeated, a teasing smirk growing on your face.
"why you asking? why now?" he asked, his entire face turning red just as the tip of his ears. "i don't even—i don't even remember!"
"louis…" you sang out, raising one eyebrow accusingly.
"bro, no" he groaned, hiding his face in his hands. "i'm not answering that."
"sure?"
he whined adorably, throwing himself backward onto the floor, shoving a pillow directly over his face. "it's too cheesy," he muttered. "it was… it was a few months ago," he started, his voice choking on the pillow, so he lifted it just enough for you to listen . "i was on a break from practice, and i had my headphones on…"
he stopped, gripping on the sides of the pillow to the point his knuckles got white.
"and?" you prompted, encouraging him.
"and this song came on," he said. "and the lyrics were talking about you, even though i had listened to it for years. you change my perspective on everything, for good. i'm telling you, you shaped me differently. i was happier, and it showed."
a small, shy smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "and the moment i realized every single love song on my phone suddenly sounded like you, i knew i'd have to bag you or i wouldn't be able to listen to my own playlist anymore."
"do you still listen to it?"
"every day," he bragged. "same amount of times i let you win at any game—"
"at ANY game?" you interrupted him aggressively. "you let me win every time?!" you barked, disappointed but somehow not surprised.
"uhm, i—"
he didn't give you a chance to process the amount of words he had just dropped on you. before you could even say a thing to keep protesting, and very afraid of you —expected from him—, louis slammed the pillow to your face.
"i knew it," you stated, hands up, surrendering.
"now you know all you wanted to know," he shrugged. "don't bring it up ever again or i will break up with you," his legs kicking the air in pure shame. "not caring if i have to make another playlist or a whole new spotify account."
you couldn't help but burst out laughing, your heart feeling incredibly light and full as you jumped onto him to give him the hug he deserved. "you're the best, lou."
"i know," he said, his hand caressing your back. "even at games."
summary; ohyul and ryul might show love differently, but both of them share one love language; feeding you, stealing bites back, and looking way too proud whenever you finish your food
warnings; fluff, a small kiss, petnames
wc; 1,7k (in total) - requested
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kwon ohyul
the coffee table looked insane,
pizza boxes half open, fries disappearing at concerning speeds, little sauce cups everywhere,
and ohyul sitting on the floor in front of the couch like for he’s in a competition with .. no one actually,
“you better eat,” he says, nudging the pizza box closer to you with his foot, “don’t start that ‘i’m full after two bites’ nonsense today,”
“i literally already ate 3 slices,”
he pauses mid chew, looking at you like you just lied in court (anything related to food is this serious to him)
“exactly, so there’s still space for another 3 baby,”
you chuckle so hard you almost choke on your drink,
the movie playing in the background has been ignored for the last 20 minutes because the two of you somehow got into a serious debate over whether fries taste better stolen off someone else’s plate,
“they literally do,” ohyul insists, “science would back me up if scientists weren’t cowards,”
“you’re just annoying,”
“and yet you’re in love with me, so either way it’s your fault,”
he grins before taking another bite of chicken, leaning back against the couch beside your legs,
he’s eating slower than usual,
you notice it immediately because normally this man can clear a table like he’s preparing for winter survival,
but tonight he keeps stopping,
waiting,
making sure you’re still eating too
every time you reach for something, he watches with the most satisfied little smile ever like you just accomplished a life goal,
it’s honestly funny,
“try this one,” he says suddenly, holding up a fry covered in cheese sauce toward you,
you bite the end of it and he gasps dramatically,
“wowww ok, lowkey romantic,” he grins
“it’s literally a french fry,”
“i think our love language is cholesterol,”
you laugh, pushing his shoulder lightly, and he finally breaks into that stupid cute laugh that makes his eyes disappear,
but ohyul’s more focused on you picking at the crust of your last pizza slice,
“you done?” he asks carefully,
you nod, patting your stomach,
“i can’t eat anymore,” you sigh out,
“you ate well though,” he says immediately, like he’s genuinely proud of you, “i like when you eat a lot,”
there’s something so soft about the way he says it that your chest actually hurts a little,
and then immediately,
“now slide the box over before i start hallucinating,”
you burst out laughing again,
“ohyul???”
“baby i’ve been respectful for like 40 minutes, i deserve this,”
the second you move the pizza box closer, this man comes alive,
like we’re talking absolutely locked in,
he folds a slice in half dramatically and takes the biggest bite imaginable while still somehow keeping one arm around your waist,
“mmm,” he hums happily, already reaching for another fry, “this is healing me,”
“you’re actually insane,”
“i know,”
he keeps eating like he was born for this exact moment, completely relaxed now that you’re full, but every few bites he still automatically holds something toward you,
“want one?”
“no thanks,”
“owkkey,” he says between bites, “you sure?”
“ohyul,”
“alright, alright,”
2 minutes later:
“baby this chicken piece is crazy tho,”
you end up taking the bite anyway because he keeps holding it in front of your face until you do,
“see?” he says proudly, “we listen and we don’t judge in this house,”
“that phrase does not apply here,”
“it applies everywhere if you believe enough,”
you shake your head, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt, and ohyul notices immediately
he looks up from the pizza box for a second, eyes softening, and suddenly leans over to press a quick kiss to your lips,
it’s warm, and he’s smiling, tasting faintly like fries and soda,
“what was that for?” you mumble,
“idk,” he shrugs casually, already reaching for another slice, “you look cute when you’re full and sleepy,”
“you say that like i’m a hamster,”
“you kinda are,”
“no because you’re one to talk?”
“my hamster girlfriend,” he corrects, kissing your cheek this time, “very expensive to feed,”
“you’re more expensive when it comes to food,”
“and that’s why i feed my hamster and not the other way around,”
“i’m not a hamster,”
he looks at you, his eyes suddenly serious despite his mouth full with food,
“do you prefer being called a pig?”
you gasp, “do you think i’m a pig?!”
“no, that’s why i said you’re a hamster,” he nods like he’s stating a fact,
“you’re so annoying,” you chuckle, nudging his shoulder,
“and you are my little hamster,” he grins satisfied, kissing your cheek once more before he focuses on all his food again
kim ryul
your date was supposed to be “just a walk”
that’s what ryul told you an hour ago before somehow turning the entire evening into a full on street food marathon,
“okay but this is the last thing,” he says for what is probably the 7th time tonight, already pulling you toward another food stand,
“you’re a liar,”
“i’m an optimist,” he corrects, grinning widely
“you literally said that before the skewers,”
“and i meant it in that moment,”
you snort as he grins at you, hand warm around yours while the city buzzes around you,
there’s lights everywhere, music from random shops spilling into the street, people laughing as they pass by,
and ryul, somehow, getting more excited every single time he sees food
it started with crepes,
the two of you got different ones, yours covered in strawberries and cream, his chocolate and banana
and despite having his own, ryul still kept leaning over,
“trade offer,” he says seriously, holding his crepe toward you, “one bite for one bite,”
“you already stole some earlier,”
“sharing is caring,”
“that’s not what stealing means,”
“baby we’re dating, what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is also mine,” he jokes as he holds his crepe up for you to try,
and somehow you still end up laughing while taking a bite of his,
he watches you chew with the most hopeful expression ever,
“good?”
you nod, “wait yours is actually amazing,”
“exactlyyyy,” he says proudly, “i have elite taste,”
“you literally put chocolate on everything,”
“because it’s good,”
then later came the beef skewers,
different flavors again, obviously,
ryul insisted it was “for the experience”
“you need variety,” he says while holding his skewer toward you, “expand your palate,”
“it’s beef,”
“artisanal beef,” he grins proudly,
you nearly choke laughing while taking a bite anyway,
the whole night basically turns into the two of you feeding each other pieces of food in the middle of crowded sidewalks like the most annoying couple alive,
and honestly?
neither of you care
by the time you get churros, ryul’s fully in his element,
he buys a bag way too big for two people, immediately handing you the first one while the sugar gets everywhere,
“cute,” he mumbles to himself,
“what?”
“you,”
and before you can answer, he’s already pulling his phone out,
“ryul-“
“stay still,”
“stop,” you whine, turning your head away,
but he follows you with his camera,
click,
and then another,
and another.
“oh my god??”
he’s laughing while showing you the pictures, all candid, all in his eyes way too cute,
there’s one of you mid bite looking offended, another smiling at him without realizing,
“you’re obsessed with me,” you mumble, cleaning off some of the lost sugar from your jacket,
“i am,” he says easily, slipping his phone away, “next question,”
it hits so casually but you can’t help the little heat creeping up on your cheeks
after that, though?
you start hitting your limit, hard
because somehow ryul spots another stand selling some cheesy fried thing that immediately convinces him you “need to try it”
“i physically cannot,” you groan dramatically while he holds the tray between you two,
“one more bite,”
“ryul i’m literally fighting for my life,”
“cmoonnn,”
he nudges your shoulder with his, smiling all soft,
“you ate really well today,”
and there it is again,
that look he gets whenever you actually eat enough, warm and proud and weirdly affectionate over something so simple,
“i like sharing food with you,” he says quietly, “makes everything taste better,”
the smile on his face is so soft and genuine your chest actually hurts a little,
which is a crazy combination because you’re also about to explode from churros,
you grin, leaning up quickly to kiss him before he can say anything else cute,
he blinks once after you pull away,
“..okkkk woww,” he grins stupidly,
“shut up,”
“no because now i’m in love all over again,”
“you say that every day,”
“because you keep being cute every day, you’re staying consistent baby,” he jokes, nudging your shoulder softly,
you roll your eyes fondly while he happily finishes the rest of the food himself, completely unbothered,
actually worse than unbothered, this man is thriving
he’s walking beside you munching away like he just unlocked happiness itself,
“you sure you don’t want more?”
“if i eat another bite i’ll pass away,”
“that sounds dramatic,”
“i’m serious tho,
and then,
because the universe hates you, ryul suddenly stops walking again,
“..wait,”
you already know that tone,
“no,”
“baby look!!”
you follow his gaze and immediately groan,
because yup, another food stand,
“ryul-“
“they have those little grilled pastries,”
“you cannot still be hungry,”
“watch me,”
you stare at him in disbelief while he grins sheepishly,
“okay fine,” you sigh, “go get one if you want,”
“only if you try a bite,”
“absolutely not,”
“absolutely yes,”
“ryul i’m stuffed,”
“one bite!!”
“i’ll literally explode,”
“a tiny bite,”
the two of you end up (lovingly) bickering in the middle of the sidewalk for like 2 full minutes while strangers walk around you,
finally you point at him accusingly,
“you are a food pusher,”
“and you loooove me,” he sings out,
“i’m having second thoughts,”
“that’s still a yes,”
a few minutes later he comes back holding the warm pastry carefully like it’s a precious gift,”
“here,” he says immediately, holding it toward you,
“nooo you eat first,” you groan, “give me time,”
but ryul just shakes his head, “first bite’s always yours,”
“baby-“
“cmon, one bite for me?”
he’s smiling in that unfair way that makes saying no physically impossible (and he knows that ofc)
so eventually you sigh dramatically and lean forward, taking the smallest bite imaginable,
ryul’s face lights up instantly like you just won an olympic medal,
“good job,” he says proudly, gently squeezing your hand, “that’s my girl,”
“you’re weird,”
“and you’re cute,”
“i’m full,”
“as you should be, no woman of mine starves,” he smirks,
you laugh quietly while he finally takes his own bite, looking entirely too satisfied with himself,
and honestly at this point his love language might actually just be feeding you
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YOU HATED HOW MUCH YOU SAID YES. you never said no, not to anyone. when someone needed help—specifically from you—you always did without hesitation. even if it meant not putting yourself first. you still did it.
“can you please get this for me, i left it at home?”
“can you please send me the notes from yesterday’s class?”
“can you please help me out with this?”
every single time you found yourself saying yes. even when you felt that gnawing urge in your heart telling you to say no for once and stand your ground, the guilt overpowered.
and soon enough you felt this overwhelming feeling of being used. of being taken advantage of. your kindness being taken for granted and not as appreciated as you would have hoped for.
you never asked for anything in return. you simply just went about your life carrying other people’s problems and burdens along with your own because it was okay. you thought it was okay.
then you got used to being asked for everything. it was an expectation. you could see it in people's eyes when they approached you. the lingering question on their mind that they felt “guilty” for asking. then showers of praises and promises to make it up to you afterward.
“you’re the best, y/n!”
you learnt how to smile at them perfectly without showing how you really felt on the inside. you stopped caring. just felt the exhaustion when you got home in the evening and woke up to that cycle repeating itself.
then you met james.
he had that smile that made your knees weak and a heart of gold. he never asked you for anything but you. he only wanted you. and he cared for you in ways others didn’t.
he’d ask you if you were okay until you sank into his arms as you let it all out. he’d remember all your favourite things and give them all to you when you knew you needed them deep down but didn’t want to ask.
he was there for you in all the ways you were for other people and more. he loved you more than you could’ve ever imagined and he knew you. he saw you better than others did
he was the first person you ever let yourself need in your life in a long time. someone you trusted and loved and could count on.
and he was yours.
“hey, baby.” he greeted you warmly, instantly pulling you into his arms. the tension and tight exhaustion in your body melted away as you buried your head in his chest.
for a moment you didn’t say anything. you just closed your eyes and breathed in his scent, a smell that brought you comfort.
he smiled softly, his thumbs drawing gentle circles on your bare skin just beneath the hem of your shirt. he knew you had a long day of being other people’s support systems and now he got to be yours.
he stayed quiet too, a comfortable silence. you felt like time slowed down and everything around you faded away to just the two of you.
“i’m right here, baby. and i’m not going anywhere.”
that was all you needed. his sweet reassurances and his warm embrace. it melted all your worries away. and your stress. all the problems people piled on you.
“i know.” you murmured, pulling away enough to look at him, your hands splayed across his chest.
“i know you do. and i know you want to say no sometimes.” he lifted your chin up to meet your eyes, stroking your hair.
“am i allowed to?”
“always, baby.” he smiled once more—softer—kissing your forehead chastely. you felt your cheeks heat up slightly, your lips curving up.
“i love you so much.” you whispered, your hands reaching up to hold his face in your hands.
“i love you more, baby.” you knew he did. you could fight about it and you could say you loved him more but you knew he loved you the most.
that was all you needed on nights like these. his love and the silence that blocked the world that was awaiting you away, even if it was just for a few hours.
and knowing that you can say no sometimes.
that was all you needed.
旋律 >_< HII MY BABIES!!!!!! so i lowkirkuinely love nights by frank ocean (even though it’s kinda mainstream, i promise i liked it before the popularity) and i just thought that this fic would be perfect especially because i also see james as a gentle lover like this so i hope you guys all enjoy and like and subscribe and hit that notification bell aye! hugs and kisses, mwah!
summary; he notices the moment something shifts. and when everything gets too overwhelming, he doesn’t try to fix it, just quietly takes you out of it, staying close enough to remind you you’re not alone, ever
warnings; panic attacks, overwhelming anxiety, party scene, petnames, drinks mentioned
wc; 1,8k - requested
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
the music is loud, like really loud,
the kind that you don’t just hear in your ears, but you feel it in your chest, in your ribs,
even in your skull like your thoughts are being shaken around,
and at first it’s fine,
you’re standing near the kitchen counter, holding a drink you haven’t really touched, smiling when someone talks to you, nodding at the right moments like a fully functioning human being,
and you even laugh at something someone says,
you don’t remember what it was,
but you laughed, so that counts, right?!
across the room, ryul is leaning against the wall, talking to a couple of his friends,
he looks relaxed, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his drink, occasionally nodding along,
he’s enjoying his time,
he doesn’t look at you constantly, or stay by your side the whole night,
he’s not the clingy type, or the hover-over-you-every-second kind of boyfriend,
but he always knows where you are,
and right now, something feels off,
he doesn’t know what it is yet,
but it’s just that small shift, that subtle something,
something no one else would pick up but to him it’s obvious,
somehow he can always read right through you, like whatever is on your mind is shown in big text bubbles around you,
you, on the other hand, are starting to feel like the room is.. shrinking,
or maybe you’re expanding?
either way, it’s wrong and uncomfortable,
the music gets even louder,
or maybe it just feels louder?
voices overlap, laughter too sharp, people too close,
someone brushes past you and you flinch without even noticing,
your grip tightens around your cup and your heart is beating too fast, way too fast..
you try to breathe normally,
in,
out,
easy..
except it’s not easy,
it feels like the air isn’t going in all the way, like your lungs forgot how to do their job,
“hey, you okay?”one of your friends asks,
you nod immediately,
“yeah, i’m good,”
that’s a lie.. you’re very obviously not good,
your vision blurs slightly at the edges and your hands start to feel cold,
you set your drink down on the counter-
no, wait?
you don’t?
you’re still holding it,
why are you still holding it?
you don’t even want it,
your thoughts are getting too loud,
too fast,
not here. not now. not in front of everyone,
across the room, ryul finally looks at you,
really looks,
and there it is, he sees it immediately,
the way your shoulders have gone stiff, the way you’re not reacting to anything around you anymore,
the way your breathing,
too fast and way too shallow..
his expression doesn’t change much, because that’s just who he is,
but he straightens slightly, sets his drink down and moves,
he doesn’t rush or draw attention, he just crosses the room like it’s the most normal thing in the world,
until he’s right in front of you,
you don’t even notice at first,
you’re too busy trying not to lose it in the middle of a crowded kitchen,
“hey,”
his voice is low, but it’s close,
you blink up at him,
he gently takes the cup out of your hand before you can even process it and sets it aside somewhere behind him,
one less thing for you to worry about,
“look at me,”
you try but your eyes are unfocused, panic already curling tight in your chest,
he leans in just enough, his voice dropping so only you can hear him,
“breathe with me baby,”
he’s calm, not pushing anything like it’s no big deal,
like you’re not seconds away from completely spiraling, but tbh, that’s the best way to go about it,
his hand hovers near yours, he’s not grabbing or forcing,
he’s just there,
close enough for you to feel him,
he inhales slowly, exaggerated enough for you to follow,
you try to match it, but it doesn’t work at first,
your breath stutters and comes out uneven and your chest is tight,
he still doesn’t react or rush you, he just keeps going,
in,
out,
and again,
“you’re okay,” he murmurs quietly, “i got you,”
and somehow, that cuts through the noise just a little,
not completely, but enough for you to focus on him, on his voice, on the rhythm he’s setting with his breathing,
after a few shaky attempts, your breathing starts to follow,
it’s still uneven and definitely still fragile, but it’s better than it was 5 minutes ago,
he nods slightly,
“there you go,”
then, without making a scene, he shifts,
positions himself just slightly in front of you, creating a barrier between you and the crowd,
you don’t even realize how much that helps until the noise feels.. farther away,
less overwhelming like he’s a big wall in between the chaos and the small space you’re in,
“we’re gonna step outside ok?” he says,
it’s not a question, but not forceful either, it’s more of a statement to let you know what’s gonna happen,
you nod, because yeah, you really really need that,
his hand brushes against yours as he leads you through the crowd,
he’s still not gripping onto you, he’s just guiding you through the people, it’s protective without being overbearing,
along the way someone tries to stop him,
“yo, where you-“
“back in a bit,” he says casually, not even slowing down or giving his friend a second look,
lies tho, he already knows he’s not coming back,
the second the front door opens, cool air hits your face and it’s like your lungs finally remember how to work,
you inhale sharply, deeper this time,
a first real breather,
the noise from inside muffles instantly and it’s replaced by the quiet night breeze,
you step onto the sidewalk, your hands shaking as you press them against your face,
“hey hey,” ryul says softly,
he steps in front of you again, grounding your focus on him again,
“stay with me,”
you nod, your breathing still uneven,
and he instantly mirrors your breaths again,
slower this time,
“in.. yeah.. hold it.. and out,”
you follow,
again and again,
until your chest stops feeling like it’s collapsing in on itself,
until the dizziness fades just enough,
until you can think again,
your shoulders drop just a little, and ryul watches you carefully, but he doesn’t crowd you,
doesn’t even touch you unless you lean into it first,
which you do, just slightly,
your sleeve brushing his and he takes that as permission,
his hand comes up slowly, resting lightly on your arm, it feels warm and safe,
“better?” he asks,
you nod, “yeah.. i think so,”
your voice is small and he just hums,
“crowds aren’t really your thing,” he scoffs lightly,
“understatement of the year,”
a soft laugh comes from him, and a small moment of silence settles in,
then..
“honestly that party’s mid anyway,”
you let out a weak laugh, “you were having fun,”
“debatable,”
“you were laughing,”
“i laugh at everything, i laughed when someone dropped a fork earlier?” he argues back,
“don’t lie,” another small smile pulls at your lips,
he chuckles softly, “stay here for a sec,” he says, “i’m gonna go tell them we’re leaving,”
you blink, “you don’t have to-“
“i know,”
he shrugs lightly,
“but i want to,”
simple as that, no big speech, no dramatics,
just.. his choice,
he heads back inside before you can even argue, and true to his word, he’s quick,
in. out. done!
when he comes back, he tosses you a look,
“ready?”
you nod, “yeah,”
you expect him to drive you home, because in your mind that’s the logical option?
blankets, bed, isolation for the rest of the night, but instead, he takes a turn you don’t recognize,
“where are we going?”
“you’ll see,”
annoying but very him,
a few minutes later, the car slows down and you realize where you are,
the park,
your park to be exact,
the one you dragged him to once because “the water looks pretty at night” and he pretended not to care but ended up staying for two hours,
the one you drag him to all the time for ice cream walks,
or to watch the little ducks in the water and see the flowers bloom during spring,
he parks without a word and gets out and you just follow,
the night air is cool, calm, quiet in a way that feels completely different from the suffocating noise earlier,
the water reflects the city lights, soft and shimmering,
it’s peaceful, exactly the way you always like it amd exactly what you need,
“figured this beats sweaty strangers and bad music,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets,
you look at him,
“you hate nature,”
“i hate bugs,” he argues, “this is different,”
“there are definitely bugs here,”
“..don’t ruin this for me,”
you laugh, an actual laugh one this time,
he glances at you and there’s something softer in his expression,
easy to miss if you didn’t know him, but you do,
you walk closer to the water, taking in the skyline reflecting with all it’s lights, wrapping your arms around yourself,
he steps beside you, not too close, still giving you the space you needed, but close enough for you to feel his presence,
“thank you,” you say quietly,
“don’t mention it,” he smiles softly,
his hand comes up slowly, careful, as if he’s afraid to startle you,
and he gently tucks your hair behind your ear, his touch lingering just a second longer than necessary,
there’s a small pause,
“well, actually, do mention it a little, i did take you on a very scenic post panic attack date,”
you huff, “is that what this is?”
“obviously,”
“wow, you’re so romantic,” you scoff playfully,
“i try not to be, it’s bad for my reputation,”
you bump your shoulder against his, and he lets you, a slight smirk on his face,
after a moment, his hand finds yours,
loose, soft and casual, but grounding in all the besy ways,
“you did good,” he says,
you blink, “what?”
“back there,”
he glances at you,
“i know it didn’t feel like it, but you didn’t run and you didn’t shut down completely, you stayed with it,”
your chest tightens, but in a different way now,
“didn’t feel like i did,” you sigh,
“yeah, well,” he squeezes your hand lightly, “your brain’s kind of a bad narrator,”
you snort, “..that’s true,”
“thought so,”
silence settles between you but it’s a comfortable kind of silence,
the kind that doesn’t demand anything to be said,
and for the first time that night, your mind feels quieter,
not completely calm but manageable,
and next to you, ryul stays exactly how he always is, steady and unbothered on the surface,
but always, always paying attention, and always there when it matters,
because he doesn’t make it complicated, doesn’t overpromise or overwhelm,
you just feel it, in the way he stays, in the way he notices, in the way he never leaves when it matters most,
and in the quiet certainty of how much he loves you through every high and every low,
every messy, overwhelming part of you,
reminding you, without ever having to say it out loud,
va händer ¿? ── the rare occurrence that martin's the one who finds you working far too late, and not the other way around.
sin talking ── listen to me ...
to all you hard workers out there that really deserve a good night's sleep
I've got work !
YOU'VE ?? got work !
you're in that half-asleep, barely-there state where the words on the page turn to mush and your surroundings turn to lumps.
8 hours; that's how long you've had your math books splayed out and taunting you. you must be breaking some sort of record with this non-stop studying. from the moment you got home, from school, might I add, you've been focused on nothing but the test at the end of this week. you're one good grade away from reaching that final mark you've been yearning for, and this time you won't let the opportunity slip away.
so you've been slaving away, keeping all distractions at bay. you've got your noise-cancelling headphones on, your hair tied back and out of your face, and your phone turned off. nothing, nothing would strip you of this again. because god knows how many times you've been here before.
procrastinating was a specialty of yours, and you've always had to pay the price of this curse. disappointing grade after the other, they've stacked up, built a brick wall that you plan on demolishing this time around.
but now it's 2 am, unbeknownst to you. for all you know, it's still 9 pm. since your curtains create enough coverage to conceal the streetlights and darkened sky, you're convinced it's still appropriate to keep going.
you could've kept going til the sun decided to wake up the world, but there was one aspect that stopped you, one thing you couldn't divert forever. MARTIN.
at around 6 pm, he came over. he knew you would be studying all day, but the two of you haven't had the opportunity to hang out for nearly a week. and subsequently, it's not actually your fault, but MARTIN'S. but that's a bit harsh, given that he doesn't have much control over his schedule.
it's rehearsal, and then it's a performance, and after that, it's another interview, and if he isn't on camera, he's in the studio, spending hours creating the next best thing. it's always something, but not today; shocking, right? him having no work, while you're drowning in it.
it's an unusual occurrence, one that's never happened up until now: him sleeping in your bed while you're staring down at the papers with vigor.
the actual plan was enjoying each other's presence. MARTIN came over, ordered takeout; the two of you ate together in comfortable silence. then he spent his time in your room with either a book he found on your shelf, with your gaming console, or his phone.
even without you two interacting, you managed to indulge in the other. MARTIN felt refueled just having entered your room, your mere breathing soothing. and you don't know if you'd have enough energy to keep going this long if it weren't for him.
but then the later hours arrived, 10 pm passed, and then 11 pm.
MARTIN brushes his teeth with the toothbrush that's reserved for him each time he comes round, and then he washes his face. walking back into your bedroom, he sees you still hunched over numbers and equations. he smiles, nearly bittersweetly.
"baby?" he says, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle calm. you perk your head up, meeting his gaze as you turn your head and shift one headphone off your ear.
he smiles softly, placing a kiss on your temple. "it's getting quite late," he whispers into your skin. you lay a hand on his chest simply to feel him, but you get the blessing of feeling his heartbeat calmly vibrating against your palm.
you exhale, a small wave washing over your tense shoulders. "I know," you answer, moving your hand to his shoulder as his lips leave your temple to look you in the eye. "you go ahead, I'll be done in twenty."
but you weren't done in twenty minutes, not even thirty minutes. it's been hours, and you're not just tired, you're frustrated too. nothing made sense anymore, and your exhaustion surely didn't help. everything just felt impossible with this pounding head of yours and these math problems that didn't even resemble math anymore.
you sigh roughly enough for your throat to burn, and your fingers tingle with a need to crimp together. in your hazy gaze and sharp-edged breaths, you push your books away from you, no matter which way they went. it wasn't aggressive per se, it was more in irritation. a way of saying "get away from me", as if seeing another number might kill you.
you plant your head in your hands, defeated, completely surrendered to the basics of surviving, because the only thing keeping you afloat is your subconscious breathing.
despite your oblivion, the previous commotion caused one of your books to fall from your desk, landing on the ground with a thud. due to your headphones, you didn't even register the fall, but MARTIN surely did.
he's shaken from his sleep, eyes heavy and brows furrowed. in two slow minutes, MARTIN manages to brush his hair back with one hand before reaching for his phone, the time shining with vigor. 2:14 am.
with a simple turn of his neck, he sees the sight he wishes not to witness: you still awake. you're hunched over a few straggling papers in a splayed-out mess, your hair betwixt your fingers, body tense and strained. even in MARTIN'S slumped state and foggy sight, he gets out of bed with no problem. he has bigger concerns than his interrupted slumber.
he says your name, but you don't hear him. so, with light steps, he makes his way over, only ever grabbing your attention when his hand reaches for your shoulder. in bewilderment, you take off your headphones, only ever unscrunching your eyebrows when you look up and see your concerned boyfriend.
MARTIN says your name again, only this time you hear the rasp and worry in his voice. "what are you doing up?" he says, and despite the ever-gripping want to simply pick you up and tuck you into bed, he takes hold of your hands, easing you out of the chair you've been sitting in all day.
you sigh heavily, nearly falling into his grasp as he wraps his arm around you in a hug. with your eyes closed and body almost limp in his touch, you answer, or more so, say: "I'm tired," in this exhausted exhale, your voice forming against how your cheek is squished against the flat of his chest.
you feel the rumble of his chest against your smushed cheek when he chuckles. "I would've never guessed," MARTIN teases, letting one hand pet your hair.
in the span of merely a few minutes, you're draped in the hoodie he came with, a black one with a rapper you don't know on it, and scooped up into bed. your tense body is clad in blankets, and your aching head is supported and soothed by a mountain of pillows.
MARTIN makes sure that the duvet is snuggled against you, keeping you cozy and protected under the immense pressure you've put yourself through. and when you lie there, eyes closed, shoulders relaxed, and breath even, MARTIN really takes his time before he himself falls asleep too.
he brushes stray pieces of air away from your face, gently tucking them under your hood. even with the excessive amount of comforters covering you, he still makes room for himself, lacing your limbs with his. your legs intertwined, your face lands comfortably flush against his shirt. your exhales spark warmth on his skin while your inhales breathes cold air into his neck.
it's all so warm and quiet; it's peaceful. MARTIN finally falls asleep again, knowing he’ll wake up next to you, knowing work won't get in the way.
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synopsis a night after a party leads to love and such until you find out the gap and his high risk of a career only for you to falter, eventually wanting to lead yourself away but he does anything just to keep you with him.
REQUESTED ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ masterlist 𖥨᩠ׄ݁ ohyul x f!reader / downbad!ohyul x slightly older!reader, mentions of partying & underage drinking, fwb?, backstory, tension, deep feelings being conveyed, comfort, scene of kissing
───── ness: i'm a year younger than ohyul so im not sure if i fulfilled your request as intended + ohyul is just 20 so for the sake of my sanity, the reader here is claimed to be atleast one or two years older than ohyul.
YOU'D think that once your eyes laid, you found the one. particularly for the night, but ending up cherishing for longer than intended — even though something is blocking the way; something that is beyond your standards.
you didn't know him, but yet he was so entertaining and charismatic. the way he made conversation with you the most, the way he made sure to check up on you with every sip. he was the so called man that was labeled in your books.
laughter turned into a daze, his low voice becoming an indent into your mind as he spoke with care. what also caught your attention was that, though his first cup was gone, his second was barely half way through.
"you don't drink much do you?" you questioned as you placed your cup down, staring at liquid still flowing through the cup. he chuckled, shaking his head as a no, "not that much," his chuckled smile turned into an awkward slant, as he placed his fingers around the glass cup, observing for himself.
you cracked out a smirk, "low tolerance, right?" you teased, leaning to take another sip of your own. he adjusted himself in his seat for comfort, getting ready to answer, but his words came to a stop when somebody nudged themselves through the conversation.
"he's not even supposed to be drinking," one of his friends teased, giving a slight shove to ohyuls forearm. your smile haltered, confusion striking your brain, as you looked in between the friend and ohyul himself. you saw the discomfort in his face, his eyes narrowing with a slight glow that screamed for something — almost like he was afraid of this exact situation from happening.
"what's that even supposed to mean?" you let out an airy laugh. "he's not even of legal age to drink yet," his friend exposed. and there it was; the flush on his cheeks of the fear of you committing to him, as he gave you a glance before resting his head down, the laughter from his friends dying in the back his brain.
your eyes didn't find its way to ohyul, instead it stayed on his friend, watching the way he laughed. "why are you even here?" you muttered although you weren't looking at him, almost seeming like you're asking his friend instead.
it was hours into that night, fighting the unhealthy rhythm of your heart everytime ohyul gestured mannerly, spamming your friends phone about everything he did, claiming that he was the found you found that night — but now it seemed like it went downhill after that small moment. it may not be a big deal, but that wasn't an option in your books.
but something in your heart told you not to stop, to stay, to try to let go of the factual information you learned about someone who you thought you had. but it was like every moment you found yourself thinking about that one simple thing.
you laid your back against his beds backboard, watching the way he clicked away at his own computer.
he seemed focus into his game, and you seemed to be in deep thought. you wanted to rip away and leave his room, the room you somehow invite yourself to almost every week. you picked at your nail beds, while he picked at his own team for being the reasoning behind every loss.
"ohyul," you mumbled in hopes he would hear, but of course the voices behind the screen were his main focus. oh how much he'd begged you to stay over, just to remove his focus onto something else. it really made you want to leave.
"ohyul," you raised your voice, not with stern, just with intention of him to hear. his head snapped towards you, removing his headset with rush, before spinning his chair towards you, "huh?" he questioned, looking at you with raised eyebrows.
your lips turned into a tight line, sighing, "can you just get off the game for us?" you said quietly, knowing that the other line would hear. he turned his chair around back to his monitor and he listened — really listened.
and that was something he always did, he always listened to you. he listened to your rants, your mumbles, finding every word that wasn't clear, clear. that was something he told you everytime, that he'll listen to you, because he wants to be the one for you.
he knew about your doubt because of the small age gap after his friend had exposed him, but that didn't let his guard down. behind the flushed face, the gaze away from the one he set intentions for, he had a grudge to hold — and that was winning you.
but his let me see you schedules became clustered and less fulfilled. he was less on the asking and more on the providing. he barely asked to see you, and more so texted your phone like the world was ending. you found it suspicious of course, but part of you believed it was his dilemma of trying to get you to stay with him.
everyone becomes busy, everyone has a more productive week than the last one, but he didn't provide context, making you sit with overstimulation. the flow of blue bubbles increased, the energy of the vibrations being made on your phone become constant, being one of the reasons why you wake up randomly to a message that produces nonsense.
yet there was no answer to why that was. you didn't want to ask, nor did you care enough for an answer — and just like that, it was the party night witnessed all over again.
you stumbled into his shared dorm, as the quiet apartment lingered with darkness. no hums of any tv, no murmurs, no floor creaks, it was just pure silence. it made you stand there, looking around from where you stood at door in confusion. the door was unlocked, but no presences' were inside.
you turned on the closest light to brighten up the living area, and even still there was no trance of anyone. all the shoes at the front were gone, no misplaced items, no scatters of random trash. you made your way into ohyuls room, flickering on the light in hopes to catch him sleeping, but the bed was made. his desk remained clean and organized, his guitar was still in the corner of his room.
you made small steps deeper into his room, observing it like you never been in there before. but when nothing came to your mind on how him, or even the others were gone, you settled onto the edge of his bed, finally finding a decision of taking out your phone.
five missed calls, all from ohyul. your finger grazed over the call button, immediately pressing down, buzzing ringing through yours ears. but he picked up fast, like always, the same cheerful energy rising from the other side of the phone when you call.
"ohyul," you said quickly, "where are you? actually no. where are you and the others?" you corrected yourself when you heard mumbles in the back. his breathing was uneven, "we're out." he could barely let out, making your expression shift into a concerned one, "are you okay?"
ohyul get off the phone! it's your turn to record! you heard in the background before ohyul could answer. it came through glitchy and almost inaudible, but the key points stood out to you. "ohyul, what are you recording?" you questioned.
"babe, i got to go. i'll call you later," he rushed but you didn't feel a shuffle with the phone, his phone very much still raised against his ears despite the protest in the back. "ohyul?" you questioned once more. he sighed, "i'm recording a song right now, i'll call you later." he admitted with a stern, immediately hanging up his phone.
a song? you thought to yourself. you knew he was into music, you knew he sings, but it was intended for himself only and never made a note on publishing.
you placed your phone on his bedside table, flopping against the bed, as you stared at the wide open door, the lit house from the outside.
he was hiding so much from you and it only made matters worse. you didn't want to accept it, you didn't want a string to connect you both. the string that somehow guides you anywhere he goes. you wanted it cut, gone, forbidden. you didn't even feel like you were in a proper situationship, you just felt trapped — trapped in feelings that can't be conveyed because he tries to push them aside for his matters.
"why are you hiding so much from me?" was the first thing you asked as soon as he stepped through the opened door, watching your worn out figure laying flat across his bed. he gave the boys one last look, before shutting his door.
"i'm not hiding anything from you." he took off his jacket, throwing it carelessly onto his chair. "what song?" you brought up once more. he stopped his movements from his closet, "i was recording a song." he said out lowly, still remaining in a stood position, now watching you carefully.
"you're gonna make music now?" you mumbled, and he just shrugged like it was a simple question. you stayed quiet, eyes shut. "i've been with music." he blurted out randomly when he was shifting around his room, removing the quiet tension that was enclosed into the small room, only now creating a bigger one.
you opened your eyes to look over at him, "what do you mean by that?" he rushed his hands through his hair, "i've been into musis, love."
you pursed your lips, nodding to yourself, "and you're company is fine with dating?" he nodded, walking over to you slowly. "how about the people who love you that isn't me." you added on. he sat at the edge of the bed near your figure, gazing down at you carefully. "i don't care about them." he admitted out confidently, "they don't need to know about my love life."
you groaned, throwing pure emotion this time, as you brought up your hands to your face, covering it dramatically, "first it's the gap and now you have a high of a risk career."
he let out a breathy laugh — not sure if it was with humor or concern behind it. he brought up a hand to your wrist, letting your hands drop away from your face. "how do you i have a high risk career? what if i'm just getting started. wait how did you even know im in a company."
"God forbid a girl searches it up. i didn't know you made it as the face of another persons account." you rolled your eyes, forcefully removing your wrist from his grip, "your friend also rambled you out again anyways with that song he posted on his story."
he let out a deep sigh, looking up at your face up and down, scanning your features, "you're really going to let this falter our relationship?" he said out with slight hurt, slight worry that something so small can change something that was so big to him.
you blinked at him, "i'm going to ruin your life." you muttered out, eyebrows furrowing slightly. he watched you for a moment, "i don't care. i think i rather risk my career than risk my relationship with you."
you felt your heart stutter, a fast pulse go by unexpectedly as it was your turn to study his features, your gaze stopping at his lips for a split second before bringing them back up to his eyes. "i can't do this anymore," you shook your head, turning your head over to the wall, shutting your eyes once again.
he shuffled in his spot, leaning his body more towards you, hesitating if he should grab your hands or not. he wants to show his love but something in him tells him he shouldn't, although he would and he should. "can you please hear me out?" he asked.
you let your breath shallow a bit, turning over back to him semi-aggressively — maybe a little dramatically, as you stared at him as his que to talk it out. "i genuinely don't care about your age nor do i care about how much you can effect my career. i really don't." he said out sternly, his eyes screaming intimidation the whole time, a way of trying to prove his sincerity. "why do you think i've been genuinely trying to get at you for these past few months? do you believe it was all an act?"
"ohyul." you stared off. "everything here is new to me and i'm not sure how i can handle this. it may seem small to you, but to me it's big enough for me to be confused about everything." you replied back with the same tone as him.
"you're not confused, you're just avoiding your feelings." he replied back hurriedly, like it was a line that was in the back of his mind. "you like me, you do, you're just letting these things get to you which creates an unhealthy standard into that head." he started off seriously, not forgetting to flick his fingers at your forehead at the last part.
you hissed, slapping his hand away from you, "i'm being serious ohyul,"
"and so am i and you know it." he grabbed onto the hand that tried slapping his own away, smoothing his way into molding your hands together but not intertwining, "you know how much i like you."
"is that why you're hiding stuff from me?" you questioned without a care of an answer, letting your mind melt into the soft touch he has with you. "im not hiding anything from you. i just rather provide you with my love than with things that aren't important to me." his fingers finally wrapped between yours, pushing yourself up from the bed, now sitting up straight. hair slightly messed up from the bed, your lips formed into a pout, as your eyes carried deep emotion within them.
his eyes grazed over your lips for a bit, then bringing them back up to your eyes. he studied you, he studied the feelings deep in you and he knew he had you hooked since the beginning of it all. he just knew that some things provoked you from letting yourself get to him emotionally and deeply.
"trust me, i can handle it all as long as it involves you in it." he confessed, running his spare hand down your hair, fixing it for you, as he landed it right on your cheek, caressing it ever so softly. "i can't" you mumbled out annoyingly. your mind was rejecting, but your heart was accepting. your mind told you those specific things were negatives, but your heart told you that wasn't a bother.
"yes you can, i get crazy without you." he let out a half smile, feeling heat build up to the back of his neck from the embarrassing tease that he just claimed. he watched the way you chuckled, slightly leaning into his touch as you straightened yourself forward without realizing.
he wasn't sure if it was the shift caused from you or the sudden switch of tension built up between the two of you, the string had gotten tighter and stronger, now creating an elastic bond between the both of you, pulling your bodies closer and closer to each other.
his lips landed on yours, gaining the rhythm he was used to almost immediately, playing it out like he always does. and just like the string expected, you joined in just as fast as your mind wished you didn't.
he felt the way you visibly sighed into the kiss, and it wasn't the type of sigh prior to earlier; it was a sigh of relief, a sigh of satisfaction, like you just received the reassurance you needed.
you let your mind choose over you and ohyul knew that hence why he never stopped wanting to win. he wanted to prove how he can balance his different lifestyles with you. because he knew that regardless of all your negative thoughts, he had you successfully where you and him wanted to be — even if he was the opposite of the things listed in your books.
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