?

You can't sleep.

No matter how much you toss and turn—position switched, your mind wouldn't shut off. It's always been like this for a couple of months now.

Your room was quiet, silence filled with the rustle of your sheets and the low whistle of the wind from outside. Your eyes flickered open to the dim room, lit by the small glow of the stars through the windows.

You don't close the curtains, not when the sky gives you comfort.

You sat up quickly from your bed, heaving a sigh of frustration as you stood up and strode over to your table, snatching your bag filled with meticulous items, as well as your robe, pulling over your hood.

The door quietly creaks shut.

You quietly sneaked to the entrance of the common room, stepping out from the main entrance. You've done this more often than you're able to count, and never was there a time where you had been caught—or at least, not fully.

Inside your bag, was filled with trinkets used in case of such emergencies. Gums for peeves, maps for secret pathways to avoid the sharp glares of the portraits. You studied the patterns of the magic stairs, when they moved, and when they stopped.

You've had a close call once—Professor Trelawney. Luck had been on your side. You were hiding, in a dark shadowed corner so easily missed by the careless eye. She'd almost caught you, until the sound of armor falling caught her attention. You exhaled from relief, and you slipped away.

It was silent. Hues of dark blue clashing with warm yellow that stretched across the halls. The only thing you heard was the sound of your own breathing and the soft sounds of your steps.

Swiftly, you hurried down the stairs from the common room—not before listening closely for whatever entity that might ruin your night.

You turned to the right, steps sure and careful. You clutched your bag tighter to your side, heartbeat thudding. While it might not be the first time for your escapades, it surely never fails to get you all nervous and jittery.

You'd entered a hallway, and you were so close to your destination, that you walked a little faster, and perhaps a little too loud—

"Stop there."

You froze. Turning slowly, you stared at the student standing a distance away from you, his prefect badge glinting from the moonlight. Your chest tightened slightly.

Jungwon.

He stands there, robes falling around his body like water with his hufflepuff tie snug around his neck. His bangs fall over his eyes as he stares you down.

He can't see your face, partly covered by the hood of your robes. He walks over to you, voice stern, "State your name and house."

You slowly pull your hood back, showing your entire face to him. His eyes widened, flickering over your features.

"Y/N?"

His voice is soft now—but not absent of confusion and surprise.

"Hi," your lips formed a sheepish smile, hand reaching out for him. His expression remains of surprise, but his fingers intertwine with yours anyway.

You tilted your head, a small grin playing on your lips. “You look really cool when you’re serious, by the way.”

He blinked at you as if he’s frozen—confused on how he should react.

"You're not going to throw me in detention, are you?" You looked up at him, throwing on the most pitying, pleading, puppy-eyed face you could muster, with a small pout as a cherry on top.

He breaks out of his stupor, blinking down at you. "What are you doing here? It's two in the morning," he whispered a bit too aggressively.

"Is it? I hadn't noticed," you feigned innocence. Unfortunately, he did not laugh—only staring at you in a measured manner.

You sighed, avoiding his eyes by looking down. You opt to stare at his badge instead.

"I couldn't sleep," you mumble out, and you feel his frame softening immediately. Jungwon was aware of your struggle for sleep, often going back-and-forth from hogsmeade to get you something that'll help your mind ease. It didn't work, none of it.

He stands there for a moment, he gazes over your robes, your bag—and he sighs, hand squeezing yours, "you're lucky it's me who caught you."

Your head shot up, a wide smile tugging at your lips, "you'll let me off the hook, right? You won't let me get in trouble, right?"

Jungwon merely stares at you, his head shaking. "I'll let you off the hook if you let me come with you." He pulls you somewhere—a dark corner—hidden out of plain sight.

You shot a questioning look at him, but followed him regardless. "Won't you get in trouble for not staying in your post? It's risky for you."

And you're right, he thinks. If the two of you were to get caught, his reputation is in jeopardy—or worse, he might lose his badge.

But the thought of you wandering through the towering castle alone bothers him so much more.

He looks around for anything that might catch you two, before gazing back down at you. "One of my duties as a prefect is to protect fellow students. In this case, you."

You slowly nod, swinging your intertwined hands. Your head tilts up slightly, to which he leans down, "just say you want alone time with your girlfriend," and he shoots a deadpan look at you.

He shakes his head, but a small smile tugs at his lips. Scratch that, he thinks, one of his duties as your boyfriend is to protect you, specifically.

He gestures for you to lead him the way, and you do. Hands linked together.

Eventually, you led him up to the Astronomy Tower stairs, past the main platform with its telescopes and star charts.

Jungwon raises his eyebrows, turning his head over to you, "out of all the places, surely you don't think we wouldn't get caught here?"

You shoot him a look that shuts him up, and he does. He stayed close behind you, close enough you could feel his body heat. He watches every step you take.

"Where are we going?" he whispered.

You don't look back, "you'll see."

"That's not very reassuring," you feel him frown. You smiled to yourself and kept climbing. Near the top, just before the final landing, you stopped. To anyone else, it was just a wall. But you knew the cracks in the stone. Little fingerholds you'd discovered one sleepless night, when you thought you might go insane from the silence.

You sling your bag over your shoulder and started climbing.

"Y/N—"

"Just watch where I put my feet. And don't look down."

He looks up at you, a bit frantic. "I'm a prefect. I can't be climbing walls at—is that a ledge?"

You pulled yourself up and onto the small stone perch, then turned down to look at him. He was frozen on the footholds, one hand gripping the stone, staring at you like you'd gone mad.

And maybe you have.

You grinned down at him, wind ruffling your hair around, "are you gonna stay down there, Yang? The wind is amazing up here."

He grumbled something you couldn't hear to himself—something that sounded like a "I can't believe I'm doing this"—and pulled himself up.

He collapsed beside you, chest heaving, and looked around.

The perch was small. Just big enough for two people to sit shoulder to shoulder, legs dangling over the edge. The stone was worn smooth by time and weather. Ivy leaves curled around one corner. The lake was a black mirror. And above you, the sky opened up like a wound—scars scattered everywhere, the Milky Way spilling across the darkness.

The wind hit you both at once, cool and sharp, carrying the smell of the lake and the forest.

Jungwon went still.

"..How did you find this?"

You swung your legs. He placed a nervous hand over your thigh to stop them.

"Slept badly. I found it by accident in fourth year."

"And you've been coming here alone?"

You turned to him, and he was already looking at you. You smiled, cheeky. "Not anymore."

He quietly stared at you, the starlight caught his hazel eyes, and your cheeks warmed a little.

"You could have fallen," he said quietly.

"But I didn't," you tilt your head.

He sighs, shaking his head. He was quiet for a long moment, then he shifted closer—not that there was much space—and his hand found yours on the cold stone. His hand laced through yours.

"Do you come here every night?"

You shake your head, resting it on his shoulder, "only when the thoughts are especially loud."

He hums in reply, and silence envelopes you. The wind pulled at your hair, and the castle slept below you. And for the first time in hours, your mind went quiet.

His gaze flickered from the stars over to your bag, his hand reaching for it. "What's this?"

You lifted your head from his shoulder to look at the bag in question, "oh, those are the things I'd usually bring—in case I'd get caught," you handed it over to him.

His hands take the bag, feeling the slightly rough material, before opening it. His eyebrow lifts at the sight of the interesting items he didn't expect to see anyone carrying.

He holds up a white potion. "What's this?"

"It's a potion that turns me into a cat, it lasts about fifteen minutes. Quite convenient if a professor's right around the corner."

He eyes you weirdly, stuffing it back inside. "You're oddly prepared."

You pat his thigh, and he joins your hands once again.

"Not prepared enough, I guess," you mumble, staring at the distance. "In the end I still got caught by you."

He chuckles, turning to kiss the top of your head. His thumb grazes over your knuckles, "At least it's me. What would happen if it's someone else?"

"I'd hex them."

"Would you really?"

"...No."

His head leans against yours. And you stay like that, watching the stars turn.

As you sneak back to your common room, your ears catch on a booming voice. "Mr. Yang, where have you been? I'm sure you're well aware of the consequences of abandoning your post."

You flinched lightly as his voice echoed, followed by the familiar voice of your boyfriend, "I was not abandoning my post, sir. I thought I had heard something, so I went to follow it."

You bit back a smile, quietly muttering the answer to the riddle, allowing you past the bronze eagle with its folding wings.

The moment you'd slip back into your covers, sleep came to you quick. You weren't sure if it were from your escapade, or the companion that came with it.

The next morning, an owl arrived at your desk. You took a quick look at it, and immediately smiled when you recognised the familiar handwriting.

You almost got me caught last night. I blame you. You owe me butterbeer next weekend.

P.S

He swiftly takes out his phone from his pocket, opening a chat of him with Jay.

heeseung:

dude my underwear landed on the huzz’s balcony

jay:

what the fuck

so the one in the gc was yours?

dude i'm so embarassed

go jump i’m so serious

He chooses to leave his friend on read, prompting to go through his laundry once again to make sure there were no more missing pieces this time.

He remembers clearly he had hung five. What greeted him instead was three. One of them already being the one in his hands.

Great.

He walked over to his own balcony—hands holding the railings in desperation. His eyes roam around to search for his lost undergarments, and he catches one of them on his neighbour's balcony next to his, and the other on a tree.

Perched right on the tall branches, as if it had claimed its rightful spot.

"Fuck.." He whispered out, hand coming up to rub his face.

A lightbulb lit up over his head.

This is a golden opportunity to message you again!

And he quickly opened his chat with you.

heeseung:

i just checked

there's 2 more missing

Pause.

Three dots from you appeared.

you:

it's the one on the tree isn't it

heeseung:

yup.

help me retrieve it?

The three dots appear, then vanish—and he panics a little, wondering if it was a lame move, until it reappears.

you:

me??? why

Well shit. Now what was he supposed to say? His thumbs moved to respond.

heeseung:

cuz why not

plus i think u'd enjoy seeing me go through the embarassment

You went silent for a while. and he wonders if he should've just shut up.

you:

sure

He straightens up.

heeseung:

okay, i'll grab my other one first, then i'll head to yours in a bit

He shuts his phone, quickly turning to move towards the unsuspecting neighbour, his knuckles hitting the door in a frantic rhythm. The door opens to a confused freshman, and Heeseung points to his balcony, again with a sheepish smile.

Claiming back the lost underwear with his ego slightly bruised, he tosses it back into his pile of laundry, zooming back out of his dorm room to head to yours.

The knocks resound on your door, earning a small jump from you. Swiftly, the door opens to Heeseung again—a nervous smile on his face.

"Hi," he greeted. His arms fall awkwardly to his sides. He doesn't remember his arms feeling this long. "Hi," you reply, "Shall we rescue your Calvin Klein?"

He opens his mouth to say Hugo boss, actually, but he decides against it—trailing behind you down to the lobby and eventually outside of the building to where the tree stands.

The two of you stand there, and heeseung scratches the back of his head.

Well, here goes nothing.

He steps forward—his hand reaches up to where the trunk meets the branches, and he hoists himself up. You stand there, because honestly—what else are you supposed to do in this situation?

As he continues climbing, small grunts leave his mouth, and you hear the passing of whispers behind you.

"Is that Heeseung?"

"Is he trying to.. get his underwear?"

"Oh my god, did the one in the group chat belong to him?"

You glance back up at Heeseung. It's absurd. It's so absurd and embarrassing that you can't help but laugh at everything.

As Heeseung reaches for his briefs, he looks down at you from the tree, eyebrows furrowing. "Are you laughing? You're supposed to be helping me!" Yet he can’t contain the smile creeping onto his face.

He sees your face contort to mock offense,"I am helping." You reply between giggles, "I'm gracing you with moral support."

He rolls his eyes, biting back a smile. He snatches back the fabric, quickly climbing down.

Now he's back on the ground, and you're not sure what's next. You play with your fingers, eyes diverging somewhere else as he pats down his sweatpants, and he looks back toward you. A few awkward seconds pass by.

Uh oh. He did not plan this through.

He clears his throat, bringing your attention back on him. "Have you eaten yet?" he questions, expectantly.

You let out a chuckle, rubbing your arm from the slight breeze, "I was planning to, until that happened," you nod towards the fabric in his hands.

Chuckling, he looked away, his face warming as his eyes studied the pavement.

"Well, since we're both here, how about we get lunch together?"

Your eyes widen slightly in surprise.

Now that was straightforward.

You look from the crumpled Calvin Kleins in his hand up to his face, which is still a lingering shade of pink. The entire dormitory building is probably gushing about the basketball captain climbing a tree for his underwear—not to mention the pictures passersby must have taken—yet here he is, ego bruised but still bold enough to ask you to lunch.

You should probably say no. You should probably reply with a sorry, I have plans with a friend. But then he shoots you that expectant look—like he’s bracing himself for a second fracture of his pride—and you can’t say no.

You find yourself suppressing a grin. You tilt your head, “Sure, I feel like you kinda owe me one for this morning.”

And he lits up at that, his entire posture relaxing as if he has won a competition rather than lunch.

“I definitely do,” he admits, quickly stuffing the crumpled fabric into the pockets of his pants. You raise your eyebrow, stifling a laugh. “You’re not gonna drop it at your dorm first?” And he shakes his head at that, grinning. “Nah, it’s for luck.”

Fuck. Did he really just say that? He winces.

“Anyway, I know a good place nearby,” he smoothly changes the topic, head jerking towards the road in front of him, “it’s a really good ramen place, just ten minutes away from campus.

You fall into step beside him, watching him pull his phone out for a quick text, “Sure, I'd love some good ramen right now.”

heeseung:

dude my rizz is immaculate

heeseung:

i asked her for lunch

AND SHE SAID YES

call me sir rizz-a-lot from how i snagged the loml

jay:

literally shut the fuck up no one cares

Little does he know, your own phone is vibrating violently in your back pocket—most likely from your friends asking if the boxers really did belong to Heeseung. You made a mental note to reply to them later.

You both walk in a comfortable silence, occasionally broken by the synchronized buzzing from your phones.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, watching as he pretends to act nonchalant. His fingers fidget against his pocket where his phone is tucked in, and he looks at anywhere but you.

“Your phone’s going off a lot,” you remark, a playful lilt in your voice. “Popular guy?”

Heeseung doesn’t flinch, but a small laugh escapes him as he looks over at you. “Just my friend Jay being a hater. He hates seeing people succeed, you know?” He shoves his hands into his hoodie as he turns his head to you. “What about you? Fans?”

“More like investigators,” you mutter, thinking about the fifty messages from your friends demanding answers.

He throws his head back in laughter, and silence falls once again, this time with smiles on both of your faces.

“Welcome!”

The two of you step inside the humble restaurant, the smell of the broth invading your senses.

“Table for two please,” Heeseung says, hand moving up to form a two with his fingers.

"Of course. This way please," the waiter replies with a smile, guiding the two of you to a small booth. He places 2 menus on the table, before leaving.

You slide into the booth, the vinyl seat cool against your legs. Across from you, Heeseung takes his seat, suddenly looking much larger than the way he did outdoors. The overhead light catches the line of his jaw and his ruffled hair—which still has a tiny, stray leaf caught in between his dark strands.

You stifle a laugh, biting your lip from pointing it out.

“So,” he says, flipping open the menu but clearly not reading a single word written on it. His eyes flicker up at you, curiosity in them. “Other than watching guys claiming back their underwear, what do you usually do on Sundays?”

You lean your chin on your palm, enjoying the way he’s trying to be the ‘cool basketball captain’ once again. “Usually? My Sundays are much more boring. I’d stay in bed, eat takeout, maybe even work on some assignments. ” you drag on, eyes flickering back to him. “What about you, Heeseung?”

He realised this is the first time you had called his name.

And he doesn’t remember ever introducing himself to you.

His cool act crumbles.

“Wait, you know me?” he points to himself, head tilting. He can feel Jay face palming in disappointment.

You laugh. Like, laughed out loud. Your hand shoots up to cover your mouth, “of course I do, you’re Lee Heeseung. You’re literally a celebrity here. And we do share a couple of classes, if you haven’t noticed.”

His mouth hangs open in shock, eyes immediately diverting away from you, “Right, I forgot about that.” He attempts to hide his face with the menu, and you can’t hide your grin.

He stays behind the menu for a beat too long—his voice muffled. “In my defense, you’re usually half-hidden in the back of the lecture hall with your headphones on. I didn’t even think you’d notice we were in the same class.”

You blink at him, “you noticed me sitting in the back?”

Heeseung winces, realising he’s said too much. Honestly, he can’t tell if this is going incredibly well or incredibly badly.

“I mean—I sit in the back too, so it’s not that hard to miss," he mutters quickly, “especially not with your gigantic Ipad.”

“Wow,” you supress a grin, “so you’ve been keeping tabs on me this whole time?”

“I wouldn’t say keeping tabs,” he mutters, menu falling slightly to reveal his face, ears slightly red. “More like noticing.”

The waiter comes back with two glasses of water, saving Heeseung from embarrassment. “Have you guys decided on what to order? Or do you need more time?” He pulls out a pen and paper.

You glance back at Heeseung, leaning towards him slightly. “Do you have any recommendations?” He hums, turning the menu over to you, before flipping the pages until he arrives at a large image of a ramen bowl.

“This is one of my favorites,” his finger points, “It’s not too spicy, and the broth tastes just right.”

You nod, turning back to the waiter. “I’ll have one of these, please,” the waiter nods, writing down your order. “Make it two, please,” Heeseung adds with a quick nod to the waiter.

With unhurried steps, the waiter leaves, leaving the two of you in silence.

“You never told me how you knew my name,” you say, tilting your head. Heeseung reaches out for the cup, tilting it into his mouth as he hums, thinking of a response.

“Well.. We share Statistics,” he says slowly, shrugging. “And you usually sit a few sections over from me,” he puts the glass down.

“That doesn’t explain how you know my name.”

He scratches the back of his neck, “Professor calls on you a lot,”

“...And you answer most of the questions.”

Your eyebrow lifts. “You pay attention in statistics?”

He winces. “Not to the statistics.”

You chuckle, but before you can tease him any further, the waiter returns, placing two steaming bowls of ramen on the table.

“Here you go.”

The rich smell of broth curls into the air between you.

Heeseung immediately reaches for the chopsticks, grabbing a pair for you.

“You should try the soup first,” he mutters, handing over them to you. “It’s the best part.”

You hum thoughtfully, letting out a thank you.

The ramen is just as good as he promised.

The broth is rich, the noodles perfectly chewy, and the egg melts the moment you bite into it.

Heeseung watches you expectantly as you take your first bite.

“Well?”

Your eyes widen.

“Oh my God, this is literally so good!” You lean back, eyes fixed on the bowl in shock.

Heeseung leans back in his seat, face smug as if he were the one to cook it.

The rest of lunch passes easily after that—conversations slipping from classes, to terrible professors, to his experiences on the basketball team.

It felt like you knew him all your life from the way it was so easy to talk to him. And somewhere between laughing and finishing your meal, you realise you’ve completely lost track of time.

“Shall we head back?” he asks with a small smile at you.

The walk back was quiet, the two of you too full to tease each other any further. The sun was still high, and you wondered what he'd be up to next.

"So, what are your plans later?" You ask, hands tucked behind your back.

He hums, thinking for a moment. "I'll probably play some games later," he shoves his hand into his pocket, and his fingers bump into the undergarment still stuffed in his pocket. He winces, "and I guess I'll have to wash the underwear again."

You burst into laughter, eyes flickering to the lump in his pocket. "I completely forgot about that."

"Me too," he mutters.

In no time, you arrived right back at your dormitory building.

Stepping into the lift, he presses the button of your floor for you—and you turn to him in question. “Do we live on the same floor?” He shakes his head.

“I’m on the floor above you,” he says, voice soft.

You nod, and the lift dings, its doors opening. You step out, followed by him, and walk silently to your door.

“Well here we are,” you stepped in front of your door, turning to him. “I had a great lunch, Lee Heeseung, thanks for inviting me.”

He smiles softly at you, rubbing the back of his neck, flustered. “Would you like it if—maybe—we meet up again sometime?”

Your eyes lit up at his suggestion. You nod, a smile forming on your lips.

“I’d love to.”

For a moment, neither of you move.

Then you step back, pushing the door open.

“I'll see you later then.”

He gives a tiny, hesitant wave, “okay, take care.”

As the door clicks shut, you realise you had not thought of Monday at all. Perhaps all your Sundays had been missing was a runaway pair of Calvin Kleins.

Heeseung sighs as the door closes behind him. He stands in the middle of the room, face blank, before it breaks into a large giddy smile.

He jumps onto his bed and pulls out his phone to send a text to Jay.

heeseung:

guess who just came back from his DATEEE 😝😝😝

jay:

bffr it was just lunch

He scoffs at his friend’s reply, opening the camera to take a selfie before typing a caption in it.

Stay mad ho 😂

He supposes he should be embarrassed about this whole underwear fiasco. But if he’s being honest, he’s kind of glad it happened. After all, it gave him the chance to finally talk to his longtime crush.

Then something in the photo catches his eye.

There was a leaf stuck in his hair.

The whole time he had been with you—a leaf had been stuck in his hair.

His face contorts to horror.

jay:

The door to your dorm room crashed open—followed by your staggering steps. It’s Friday night, and you’ve just returned from classes. You feel miserable—hair oily, legs about to give out. Your friends are probably out partying, and you're here with unfinished assignments and a pile of lectures to catch up on.

It's not that you dislike parties. There are nights when drinking and dancing sound like the perfect escape. Unfortunately, you have a future you're trying not to destroy.

Carpe diem my ass.

You drop your bag (gently) next to the bed with a soft thud before immediately heading to the bathroom for a long-awaited hot shower. Time passed, and the bathroom door creaked open, hot steam escaping as you stepped out in your softest, cutest pajamas.

You walked over to your table and dropped onto the chair. The biggest exhale leaves your lips as you turn toward your bed to reach out for the bag—pulling out your laptop and iPad. 

You swore to yourself to finish everything as fast as possible.

No phones.

No TikTok. 

And absolutely no opening messages from anyone. 

Your laptop was slammed shut—assignments finally completed. With your iPad pressed to your chest, you spring up from your chair. Turning your lights off, you jumped on to the bed with a small grunt, a grin on your face. Your body relaxes into the mattress, immediately pulling the sheets up to your chest. 

As you wait for Netflix to open, a small ding! resounds from your phone. Your hands reach for it, unlocking it to see a warning sent by one of the dorm authorities to the group chat. 

WARNING! There are reports of incoming strong gusts of wind. It is advisable to collect your clothes. We are not responsible for any lost belongings.

Your eyes sweep over the message. 

You shrug to yourself—you had done your laundry yesterday, nothing to worry about. 

Phew! 

You closed your phone and opted to watch 10 Things I Hate About You for the fifth time. You don’t remember falling asleep, iPad still glowing on your pillow.

Saturday arrives loud.

You woke up to the sound of your sliding glass door rattling like it’s trying to escape, curtains flying around your room—which meant you forgot to close it properly last night.

Of course you did.

You groan, untangling yourself from the warm blankets and strode over to firmly slide the door shut. Then, curious, you slide it open again to step onto the balcony.

Trees were bending like they’re about to take flight. A person sprints past, hoodie pulled up like their life depends on it. Your hair whips across your face immediately.

You purse your lips and step back inside, shutting the door and pulling the curtains closed. Darkness returns to your room like a comfortable blanket, and you crawl back to bed.

The morning is perfect. You scroll. You fall asleep. Wake up and scroll, and nap again.

Eventually, the time strikes 12:19 P.M., and your stomach grumbles in protest. With a sigh, you drag yourself out of bed for food and change your clothes to something thicker like you’re preparing for war. The moment you step out of the building, the wind humbles you. Your hair looks like it has become sentient. Your eyes water, and a trashcan slides at least 2 feet on its own. Though none of it matters, as in your hand lies treasure. 

Juicy, juicy fried chicken.

The rest of the day is a blur of pure relaxation. You eat your chicken, start a movie, get bored, and start another one. At some point you opened your messages app, saw that no one texted you, and closed it with a sigh of relief.

By the time night falls, you’re curled against your pillows on bed. The wind calmed down—still strong, but calmer nonetheless. Its low hum serves as a reminder that it’s still there. You fall asleep with your iPad still propped beside you, a Barbie movie playing softly in the background.

Sunday arrives too quickly for your liking. You sit up, stretch, rub your eyes, and sit there for a hot minute while your soul slowly settles into your body. Stepping out of the bed, your fingers move to pull the curtains back.

And there—crumpled right in the middle of the balcony like it’s a prank—

is a pair of men’s boxers.

Black. Calvin Klein. 

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Fucking Sundays.

Your eyes twitch, slowly sliding the door open. Taking cautious steps toward it, you crouch down, opening the camera app on your phone with a grimace on your face.

B3 Dormitory Building

you: *one attachment*

you: hi, whose are these? it fell onto my balcony….

Immediately, bubble messages popped up.

choi yeonjun: LOLLL WTF

huh yunjin: oh hell nah who forgot to keep their underwear last night 😭

na jaemin: is that calvin klein 😹😹

yang jeongin: @ choi beomgyu ?

choi beomgyu: nah bro i use hugo boss

Why is literally everyone replying but the person who you’re trying to find?

Your thumbs move to type again until your phone dinged.

+82 xxxx xxxxx sent a message.

You click on the notification.

+82 xxxx xxxx

yo that might be mine 💀 can u take another pic

You blink.

With hesitant hands, your index finger and thumb pinch the absolute edge of the band, pulling it up to the air like it's hazardous. You aim your phone, taking a picture, before sending it to him.

you:

*image attached*

PLEASE tell me it’s urs, no one else has messaged me other than u

Speech bubbles appeared.

+82 xxxx xxxx:

oh shit it is

dude i was so confused this morning like where’d my underwear go

also why r u holding it like that lol

You raised your eyebrow.

you:

right.. so when are you taking it back?

+82 xxxx xxxx:

uhh rn. is that ok?

you:

yeah sure. my room number is xxxx

+82 xxxx xxxx:

omw

You dropped the boxer immediately after realizing you’ve been messaging the number while holding it this whole time, rubbing your fingers together as if it’ll clean them.

You stood up, kicking your legs after being tired from crouching. A small smile tugs at your lips. While this whole thing is rather inconvenient—and a tad bit gross, there's something quietly funny about someone else's embarrassment. Not in a mean way, just in a thank-god-that's-not-me way.

You start imagining what the guy might look like—would he be tall? Would he be those nerdy guys who shower once a week? Or would he be those jocks who's only interested in cheerleaders—

Knock knock knock.

You flinched. Well that was fast.

You lean down once again to grab the runaway item between your fingers, turning to move quickly towards the door. 

You open the door halfway, and a tall figure stands there. Black hoodie, messy hair, sheepish smile.

It was not a nerd, and it was not a jock either. Rather—

“Hey,”

Lee Heeseung.

Oh.

Oh dear.

See, Heeseung is not the average uni student. You could say he’s a basketball prodigy—the kind that people recognize before they even learn his name. His games fill the bleachers, his highlights circulate around campus like breaking news.

Professors tolerate his late arrivals, falling for the charm of his sweet tone. His teammates swear by his leadership, and the university practically treats him like a walking trophy.

Not to mention how gorgeous he is, which explains why half the girls on campus seem to have a crush on him. You’ve seen him around sometimes, twirling a basketball on his fingertips, surrounded by his friend group—and boy was he pretty.

Funny, to think that the campus golden boy’s underwear had landed on your balcony specifically.

You clear your throat, shoving the undergarment with your pinched fingers towards him—and he grabs it normally—to make things worse.

“Sorry about that,” he apologizes, failing to hide the way his eyes roam your features and his reddened ears. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you let out, hands returning to your sides.

He stands there for a moment, shifting his weight as if he has something else to say. When he opens his mouth, you beat him to it.

“I’m gonna head back in,” you say, pointing towards your room.

His lips part, like he’s about to respond, but only a small “oh,” escapes before he nods. You swear you catch the tiniest flash of disappointment in his eyes as he glances at you once more, hamster eyes shining.

The door clicks shut. You stare at it for a solid three seconds. Then five, then ten.

Right.

That just happened.

Lee Heeseung—the campus It Boy, captain of the basketball team who apparently cannot secure his own underwear—just stood outside of your door.

Your phone buzzes.

+82 xxxx xxxx:

you’re y/n, right?

thanks for not throwing it away btw 😭

You stare at the message.

Another one pops up.

+82 xxxx xxxx:

and sorry once again..

You type.

you:

it’s fine haha

and yes this is y/n

tho next time maybe clip them better lol

+82 xxxx xxxx:

so u’re saying there’ll be a next time?

You blink.

you:

? thats not what i meant

+82 xxxx xxxx:

good

bc i just checked

you:

checked what

+82 xxxx xxxx:

my laundry rack

you:

?

+82 xxxx xxxx:

theres 2 more missing

You stare at the message.

Slowly, your eyes drift towards the balcony—

He doesn’t show it outwardly, of course. To anyone else, he still looks the same—eyes half-lidded, expression calm, like he’s tolerating your antics at best. Internally? The complete opposite.

He’s doomed, he deems.

Because while you go through your everyday life like this, kissing the scattered moles on his face like it’s a force of habit, he can feel himself reeling every time as you manage to find every single mark.

The one on the centre of his cheek,

Two along the bridge of his nose,

And his personal favorite, one he would rather die than admitting, near his lips.

He doesn’t stop you, that would be insane. Instead, he leans in. Subtly, so much so that you don’t notice. Or at least, he hopes you don’t. He’d close his eyes, breathe a little slower, as if to not scare you away.

And then he feels your warmth leaving his skin, and he almost pouts—he wishes to ask you for more, but the words die in his throat.

That's when an idea popped into his head.

•────────────────────⋅☾ ☽⋅────────────────────•

Your bedroom was dimly lit with only your bedside lamps on, the world quiets down as the moon rises. 

You lay your head on Sunghoon's chest, scrolling through your phone. Above you, Sunghoon dozes off, chest rising slow and steady with his arm around you, thumb gently rubbing on your back.

Sunghoon has never been happier.

You gaze up and see his eyes closed, breathing gentle. You prop yourself up on your arm and cradle his face with your other hand, lips landing on the moles on his nose bridge, under his eyes, and next to his lips. He hears you let out a small "Oh," and he hums in reply, eyes opening half-liddedly to gaze at you.

"How have I never seen this one before?" Your finger touches the mole on his neck, caressing it softly.

He closes his eyes again and shrugs like it's nothing. "It's been there all my life. I guess you've missed it this whole time," he bites back a smirk.

You narrow his eyes at him, and lean down to kiss it, and he lets out a sigh and pulls you closer, the action prompting you to fall softly onto the bed. 

"G'night," he whispers, pressing a small kiss on your forehead, and the two of you drift off into dream land.

•────────────────────⋅☾ ☽⋅────────────────────•

Something is not right, you can feel it in your bones.

First of all, you never miss his moles. You've traced every possible mark on his body, taking note of it and sealing it in your mind.

Yet when you're sprawled on the couch, TV playing your favorite romcom with your head on Sunghoon's lap, you reach for his hand to play with his fingers and lo and behold, a mole on his palm.

That wasn't there before. You swear by it.

You practically have the shape of his arms and hands memorised by the amount of times you shamelessly ogle at it. The lines of his veins, his pretty nail beds. He caught you one time, and his lips lifted into the smuggest smirk you’ve ever seen. He chuckled then, hand wrapping around your waist. 

“Stare at them all you want, baby, they’re yours.”

You hit his chest, face hot.

"You have a mole on your hand?" He looks down, stares at the way your hands cradle his, and intertwines it with one of them—his thumb absentmindedly rubs your knuckles. "Yeah baby," his tone playful, “And here I thought you loved me,” he shakes his head. 

You frowned, untangling your hands to kiss his palm, before connecting them together once again. You thought nothing too much of it, eyes flickering back towards the TV. Unbeknownst to you, Sunghoon's holding in a giddy smile. He can't believe his plan worked.

He must be a genius, a mastermind!

•────────────────────⋅☾ ☽⋅────────────────────•

The following day, Sunghoon stood beside you, earnestly helping with the dishes. The last clink resounded in the kitchen as the last plate was placed in the drying rack. You bump your hip against his, and his head turns to look at you, eyebrow raising slightly.

You grin, drying your hands with a towel, “I have new facemasks we can try together,” you hand the towel over to him, and he takes it without question.

“Hmm,” he looks up to the cabinet, pretending to ponder as his hands wipe against the towel. 

He’d do anything, as long as it’s with you.

The thought lingers in his mind.

“My face does feel dry lately,” He waits for your reply, but all he’s met with is silence. He looks back at you to see your eyes locked on his hand. He follows your line of vision and he freezes.

His hand, smudged with ink that has yet to fade.

"Did a pen explode in your hand or something?" You questioned, curiosity edged in your voice. He gulped. “Uh—yeah. Yeah, it did,” He quickly replied, “I was doing physics problems and the pen bursted, so now my hand's all inked.”

You blink, and then slowly nod.

“Ookay. I'll go get the facemasks,” you turned around to walk over to the fridge. Internally, Sunghoon high-fives himself for coming up with an excuse in seconds. He should start an acting career, he thinks.

•────────────────────⋅☾ ☽⋅────────────────────•

“How suspicious,” you mutter to yourself.

You're standing in front of the door to your shared bedroom, pondering on what you should do next—to barge in, or to peek?

You hear shuffling, and the sound of a cap being pulled off.

You cannot handle it any longer.

The door swung open, a loud bang resounded through the room—and the view you were met with was completely, utterly, atrocious.

•────────────────────⋅☾ ☽⋅────────────────────•

“AHA!”

Sunghoon flinches. His back is facing you, marker on hand, and the other holding his sleeve up.

And on his bicep, a very fake, fresh mole.

"You've been drawing those moles!"

He stood there in silence—mouth slightly gaping in shock. He straightens up and sighed, putting the cap back on the marker. He raises both of his hands up, defeated, “Fine, you got me. Those moles were fake.”

You gasp dramatically, hand coming up to cover your mouth, “You’ve been lying to me. You’re a fraud!” And he sighs, hands dropping, “Alright alright, we get it.”

You grinned, sauntering over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. His arms immediately mirror your actions, wrapping around your body like it’s second nature. Your chin rests against his chest, and you tilt your head, "What'd you do that for though?" And he stammers a bit (from your adorable face, or from the fact that he needs to explain himself, he’s not too sure).

"I uhm," He swallows, ears getting redder, "I just wanted more kisses from you," He mumbles, voice getting softer and softer with each word. 

Your mouth gapes at him, before bursting into giggles at which he can't help but smile.

"You know," you start, "you can always ask for more kisses if you want, I have plenty. I have an abundant supply of it, it’d be a shame if it had such a low demand." He scoffs at that, still grinning. “I can’t do that, it ruins my whole mysterious persona,” he then proceeds to brush his hair back—to express this ‘persona’ of him, you suppose.

You roll your eyes and smile wider, arms unwrapping to hit his chest, but his hand catches yours, pulling it towards his face to press multiple kisses on your fingers. “You’re such a loser,” You mumble, to which he ignores.

You clear your throat in a dramatic manner, “Very well, if you despise my kisses so much, I might have no choice but to close this business of mine,” You move to leave his embrace, but his arms tighten around you, pulling you back.

He leans down, nose brushing against yours in an eskimo kiss. His grin is so wide, but he forces it into a pout. "I sincerely apologise, my lady. Please, do you have some kisses to spare?" You laugh at his words, and your arms move to wrap around his neck. "Mm, I suppose I do," You let out, to which he leans down and captures your lips in a sweet kiss.

•────────────────────⋅☾ ☽⋅────────────────────•

The day is slow, lazy in the way that makes time feel like it’s stretching just for the two of you. You were pressed against him, as usual, lips trailing from mole to mole, as if following a treasure map. He lets out a small grunt when your lips leave his skin, to which you laugh.

“Perhaps I've spoiled you too much.”

Yet you lean down anyway to press a kiss on his neck, right on the sensitive spot that never fails to send shivers down his spine. He holds you closer—like there’s room for space between the two of you. “Mm. that's on you,” He murmurs, completely relaxed, “I’m just too irresistible for you.” You scoff, shaking your head with a laugh, but you don’t retort. Because well,