the soft place you return to..
✧ sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ »
you meet seonghyeon in LA by accident — soft moments, curl-playing, and feelings you’re both too shy to name. when he leaves for korea, long-distance only pulls you closer. months later, you move to seoul for school… and the reunion (plus his members teasing him) is everything.
✧ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs »
black!reader • predebut!sh • long-distance softness • curl-playing habit • members clowning him • fluffy w/ a hint of angst
@userrrwhatt for the request!
LA isn’t the kind of place where you expect fate to smack into you literally. But the door you swung open hit someone, and before you could even panic, a soft laugh slipped out of him.
“I i’m so sorry!” you blurt, reaching out.
The boy in front of you rubs his shoulder, smiling like he’s trying not to make you feel worse. “It’s okay. Strong first impression, though.”
He’s cute. Too cute. The kind of cute that makes you blink twice. Soft eyes, shy smile, gentle voice.
You tell him your name.
He tells you his: Seonghyeon.
And somehow you’re suddenly walking around the outdoor mall together like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
He doesn’t say what he’s doing in LA at first. You notice the way he keeps pulling down his cap, the way he checks over his shoulder.
“So you’re not famous,” you tease lightly, “but you act like someone will recognize you.”
He groans. “I’m a trainee. I’m… training to maybe be famous someday. Maybe.”
You just shrug. “It’s LA. Everyone’s chasing something.”
He laughs — really laughs and that’s how everything starts.
He notices your curls. More than notices he watches them bounce when you move. You catch him staring and raise an eyebrow.
“You’re staring.”
His ears turn red. “Sorry. They look really soft.”
You bite back a smile. “Do you… wanna touch them?”
His whole brain malfunctions. “I— what? No— I mean yes— I mean— only if it’s not weird—”
You laugh and lean closer. “Go ahead.”
He gently touches one curl, brushing it with the tip of his finger like it might dissolve. “Whoa,” he whispers. “It feels like a cloud.”
Your chest does something embarrassing.
He pulls away, flustered.
“It wasn’t weird,” you tell him softly.
After that, it becomes normal him walking with you, asking questions, smiling like you’re the best part of his day. Small touches. Soft glances. Sunsets that feel warmer because he’s standing next to you. Seonghyeon becomes a habit without either of you trying, and habits are dangerous.
He tells you he has to leave only when the day comes. There’s no “maybe later.” No slow fade-out. Just a suitcase, an airport, and a goodbye he doesn’t know how to say.
At the terminal, he hugs you like he’s memorizing the way you feel. “I’ll call,” he says quietly. “I mean it. I don’t want this to be over.”
You clutch the back of his shirt. “Then don’t let it be.”
His eyes soften, the kind of soft that hurts. “Don’t forget me, okay?”
You swallow. “I couldn’t if I tried.”
He smiles a sad, warm, fragile thing and then he walks away. It’s only when he disappears into the crowd that you let yourself cry.
He calls. A lot. At first every couple days, then every night, then multiple times a night. Voice notes, grainy selfies of him in practice clothes, little updates about ramen and dance practice and the weather outside the dorm. And he sends songs little clips of melodies he’s writing and he always says they’re “nothing special,” but you know they’re for you.
You send him pictures of LA sunsets, selfies when your curls are fresh, voice notes when you’re laughing. He melts each time.
He tries to keep you a secret.
He absolutely fails.
His members catch him smiling at his phone so much they don’t even need to ask. They call you “curl girl” before they even know your name.
He denies everything. He’s terrible at denying everything.
Then life shifts. You apply to an international school in Seoul on a whim. You don’t expect to get in. But you do. And when you tell Seonghyeon during a late-night call, he drops his phone.
“You’re WHAT?”
“I got accepted. I’m moving to Seoul.”
He chokes. “HERE? To— HERE?!”
“Yes,” you laugh. “Here.”
He doesn’t sleep that night.
You don’t expect him to show up at the airport when you land. You especially don’t expect him to sprint toward you like he’s in a drama. He crashes into you, arms around your waist, hugging you so tight you lose your breath.
“You’re real,” he murmurs, voice muffled against your shoulder.
“So are you,” you whisper back.
He pulls away, scanning your face, your curls, your expression like he’s checking if you changed. “You’re even prettier in person. Again.”
Before you can answer—
“BRO JUST KISS ALREADY!”
You jump. He jumps harder. His members are standing a few feet away, watching like it’s a movie they bought front-row tickets to.
The dorm is chaotic in the best way. They ask you a million questions.
“So YOU’RE the curls!”
“He talks about you EVERY day.”
“He tried to write a song but refused to admit it was about you—”
“SHUT UP!” Seonghyon yells, turning tomato-red.
You end up on the couch beside him. Close. Too close. Your curls brush his shoulder and he goes still. You see it in his eyes — the muscle memory kicking in.
Then it happens.
His fingers reach into yor curls, slow and natural, twisting one around his finger like he’s done it a thousand times. Like he never stopped. Like he’s been waiting for this exact moment.
The room freezes.
And then..
CLICK.
CLICK.
CLICK.
Four phones.
Four angles.
Four idiots grinning.
“BRO WE CAUGHT HIM.”
“This is going in the group chat FOREVER.”
“Look at him — he’s in LOVE.”
"IN A PUBLIC SEVER??"
Seonghyeon covers his face. “Delete it. Delete ALL of it.”
You laugh so hard your stomach hurts. You gently pull his hands away. “You didn’t have to stop.”
He swallows, eyes softening entirely. “I missed you,” he says quietly. “More than I ever said.”
Your heart squeezes. “I missed you too.”
He leans closer, forehead nearly touching yours. “Can I—?”
“IF YOU KISS IN FRONT OF US I’M LEAVING!” Martin yells across the room
You and Seonghyeon both break into laughter. He settles for resting his head on your shoulder, fingers sliding back into your curls like they belong there.
“You’re home now,” he whispers.
And for the first time in a long time you believe it.
I love this request thank you for thisss!!
