love club

the two of you had gone to the same elementary school, middle school, and now, high school. but while you'd doodled his name in the corner of your assignments, only to hurriedly scratch it out before submitting it, you knew for a fact that sungchan barely knew you existed.

it'd made you upset at first; the way he walked past you without so much as a spare glance while you'd rack your brain, trying to come up with ways so that you could end up in his general vicinity, drawn like a moth to a shining star.

and then, it became natural. in the stories, the shy, quiet girl only got the handsome, charming boy if she had a glow up that involved a) tutoring the said charming boy or b) if she took off her glasses.

unfortunately for you, neither of those things worked on sungchan. so you were left with just awkward interactions in the hallways when you'd accidentally bump into him or stumbling over your words when he asked to borrow a pencil.

in the past fourteen years you'd been aware of sungchan, you don't think you'd crossed his mind even once.

but then something changed.

the way that he used to glide past you in the hallways turned into a slow, deliberate saunter. he held your gaze as you passed out papers with the teacher. his voice dropped to gentle tones when he asked you what you'd gotten for number seven.

it was devastating, being noticed by sungchan. you couldn't pinpoint what exactly had drawn his attention. so you spent hours every morning, dolling yourself up as much as possible in the constraints of your uniform, hoping that the prettier you got, the more of his attention you could steal.

soon, sungchan began asking you about yourself. your name. which university you wanted to go to after high school. what you wanted to do with your life. why you were in microeconomics of all classes together with him.

it was everything you'd ever dreamed of. there had been decades where you'd prayed that he would just turn around and look at you, standing at the other end of the hallway, your gaze following him. and now, he was sitting and talking to you, asking you things that you didn't think he would ever care to ask.

but every moment felt like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop. it was excruciating, feeling giddy and answering his questions as you felt your stomach clench with the foreboding thought in your mind that all of this was so temporary. that he was bored with his perfect friends, his perfect life, and his perfect everything, that you were just the little fixation of the day.

that he was just making friendly conversation since you were in the last three months of high school, leaving all the people you'd known since you were unable to even pronounce words fluently to venture onto adventures in places you still couldn't pronounce.

and then there was the stupid, hopeless part of you that just kept wishing that it was because he'd finally opened his eyes. that sungchan had turned and saw you at the end of the hallway and decided to walk towards you. that he had chosen you as the one he wanted to walk out of high school with.

it was a stupid, hopeless notion.

sungchan loved his girlfriend too much to even entertain the thought of you as anything but just a pity case of a person that he wanted to get to know before he locked all of high school into some folder in his mind that he never quite felt compelled to open.

she was gorgeous too. never seemed to ever be able to just melt into a crowd. somehow, crowds parted to carve her a path, people tripped over their own feet to help her in her times of need, and people always noticed her. she was so sweet. it nauseated you. so smart. it infuriated you.

and she was so in love with sungchan that you physically felt ill every time you looked at the two of them. all six feet of him and all five and a half feet of her. the skirt that seemed to flop around uselessly around your thighs and seemed to accentuate her every curve.

the way she waited so patiently every time sungchan cut away from her to talk to someone, his arm still reaching out blindly for her waist.

the way she invited you to her graduation party when she'd spoken to even less than sungchan had just because sungchan stopped in the hallway once to ask you about how the microeconomics exam had gone.

the way that sungchan had looked at her, beaming with pride.

it was devastating, feeling as though the butterflies were beating themselves to a horrid, tragic death as you realized that for all of your primping and priming, sungchan had only ever noticed you as yet another somewhat friendly face in the crowd. never the romantic interest that you always wanted to be to him. just someone that he'd wave at on the street but never cross the street to talk to. someone else that he could add to his repertoire of people he knew.

and the worst part? you were sure that he didn't even think about it that way because you were sure he didn't even think about you enough to define it.

when he asked you to sign his yearbook, three days before the last day of school, you almost said no. what would he do with your wishes when he wouldn't even remember you existed the moment graduation was over?

but then he looked at you with those big brown eyes that could melt the fiercest glaciers in the arctics and you were a goner. you tried to ignore the way that the cage in your stomach where you stored all the butterflies that gave you that funny feeling when you looked at sungchan jung was starting to give when his hand brushed against yours. the way that you could feel them slip out of the cage, slowly, quietly, and then all at once.

have a great summer, sungchan. thanks for all the funny feelings, all these years. - y/n

you knew he didn't and wouldn't read it. your handwriting was too small, having shoved the letters in between so many others, pages filled to the brim with all of his well-wishers.

and yet, the cliché is right, when he sees you again all these years later.

he's standing across the street at an intersection in the heart of a city you never thought you'd ever be able to afford to live in. he's alone, in a three piece suit and a coffee cup in his hand. you don't see him this time, much too preoccupied with the funny text that a coworker had sent you.

but the butterflies start, even before you look up and you just know. your head lifts, frantically searching the crowd as you melt into it, so sure of his presence and yet being unable to find him.

you stand on the other side of the street, eyes filled with tears. why? for losing him for the second time? for the fact that sungchan was still the reason why you had a funny feeling in your stomach? you don't know.

unsure of what to do or where to search, you adjust the strap of your briefcase, smiling a bitter smile as you sigh. perhaps you were always meant to be perpendicular. meant to meet, never meant to stay.

you turn, ready to compose yourself and shove the butterflies back into the cage but you can't. not when he's staring at you, having never crossed the intersection.

he's watching you carefully, as though he's worried that he might offend you with his memories. that the fact that he remembers exactly who you are when you might not remember him is the singular most devastating thing he can think of.

"what did you mean by that?" he asks. it's the first thing that he says in years. it's one of the twenty-six conversations you'd ever had with him.

"i'd loved you for a long time," you admit.

sungchan just watches you, steam rising from the coffee cup, evidently freshly brewed. "why didn't you tell me?"

you shrug. "you never asked."

"i didn't know."

"about my love or about who i was?"

"i'm sorry."

you sigh again, smiling a sweet and yet so melancholy smile. "it's okay. it was my fault."

"do you wanna catch up? how have you been since high school?" sungchan looks nervous, foot pawing at the ground, scuffing his freshly polished loafers. you tilt your head, and now, it's your turn to watch him.

"yeah, let's catch up some time, sungchan," you say finally. he smiles that stupid, gorgeous smile and you know you're done for.

the butterflies no longer can be confined in their cage as they flap outwards, occupying every inch of your body as he types his number into your phone.

"you haven't changed your number," you bemuse.

"neither have you. changed your number, i mean. you've changed a lot though," sungchan says.

"yeah?"

"yeah. i'll tell you how over a cup of coffee."

you laugh, and sungchan is unable to keep the smirk off his face. you just wave him off and start towards your office, promising to text him later in the day.

"oh and y/n?" sungchan calls out from behind you. you don't turn around but you pause your movements, ready to hear him out.