well! anyways, you and taesan are on your sofa in your pajamas, each on opposite sides with mugs full of hot tea—your respective favorite flavors—in your hands. your legs are tangle over each other’s in a complex criss-cross pattern.

“can you believe it?” taesan starts.

what a thought provoking question, you think. taesan always starts off a conversation with a question containing absolutely zero context.

you tilt your head a bit. “believe what?”

he emphasizes each word, “woonhak is onto his next talking stage already. it’s been, what, 4 days?” his eyebrows furrow as they always do when he’s talking about something with passion.

“i could believe it,” you respond with a hint of sarcasm.

you take a sip from your warm mug and watch as taesan shuffles in his seat. you like to test him, act like a know-it-all.

“okay, i could believe it too,” taesan surrenders, “but, still!”

you hide back your smile, finding how defeated he looks to be adorable. that is why you test him.

you reason, “we know that woonhak is just doing this out of hurt, though. this is his way of coping with… you know.”

taesan hums, calming down now. “mm, for sure. he’s still not over his first love. that got him good.”

you nod.

a short moment of comfortable silence passes. taesan takes a small sip of his tea before he subtly—or what he might think is subtle—clears his throat and looks at you with a glint of hesitancy.

that’s strange.

“you know…” his voice comes out quieter this time; a little strained like his throat is struggling to let the words flow out.

you wait for him to continue.

taesan’s eyes move to his lap. “i think you’re my first.”

there it is. taesan’s heart was too full that his throat could not possibly hold back such a strong confession.

“your first… what?” you blink.

he stares back at you, eyes full of an emotion you have never seen in your boyfriend before; by uncovering this blanket of indescribable emotion, one would find fear.

and, for the first time in you and taesan’s relationship, you sense a crack in the comfort. a change that cannot be determined to be good or bad at first glance. to define it, you’ll just have to wait and see.

“my first love.”

your heart begins to stutter. your mind can’t form a coherent thought anymore.

you let out a breath, “oh.”

then, as a common coping mechanism of yours, you wrack your brain to something that taesan had told you back when you were just friends.

you use this aged piece of information as an attempt to change the tone of the current topic. you ask, “taesan, i thought you didn’t believe in first loves?”

yet, taesan is determined to keep this conversation on track.

“i used to not believe in first loves. i do now.”

your mouth gapes open a little.

“because of me?” you test the waters back.

he’s still staring at you. “because of you, yeah.”

ah, fuck it. this feels about right for time and place.

“taesan,” you try to steady your voice, but your words still come out shaky, “you love me?”

“yes, yn. i love you.”

you shuffle in your seat to straighten yourself up.

“taesan, i love you too.”

it feels as if a truth that you’ve been holding onto has finally come to light. all of a sudden, you want to say the phrase that you once did not wish to be spoken of over and over again.

taesan fixes his posture as well, leaning forward so your faces are directly in front of each other. he smiles without his teeth, pupils dipping their focus from your eyes to your lips.

he slowly closes the short distance between your lips as his hand, warm from the mug, moves up to caress your cheek.

taesan smiles softly into the kiss, and the corners of your mouth can’t help but lift with his.

you pull apart just enough to make the tips of your noses touch. you admire his beauty; the emotion in his eyes is love. it always has been.

you desire to stare at taesan’s pretty face for longer, but he engulfs you tightly in his arms and the two of you fall onto the armrest of the couch. he stuffs his face into your neck and rapidly places more kisses there. that’s fine too. taesan’s pretty face can be there too, you suppose.

he mumbles “iloveyou” again, and again, and again.

you chuckle, “taesan! i get it, stop! our tea is gonna spill!”

the words i love you will never be foreign to you ever again.

please DO NOT translate, copy, or repost as yours. feeding my works into ai will NOT be condoned.

maia’s note: BNDBLR IM BACK . all roads lead back to boynextdoor it seems… this is also very rusty i just wanted to write for my own enjoyment and i really liked this idea and taesan so. i was aiming for this work to be more dialogue heavy, and i think it is, but it’s still quite description focused haha…. i’m thinking abt making a version of this for a cortis member but i’m not sure. reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!! 🤍

taglists: @bambisnc @mungbeancoups @starriniqhts @lusayyawnn @chrrific @winteringdream @w3willris3 @rickyshensgirlfriend @kaiyunsim @uncasings @oowir @s0shroe

In this moment, you’re brought back to the present, startled at how you’re standing in front of him. The mysterious boy that you had sat next to turned out to be Han “Taesan” Dongmin—KOZ School of Law’s campus crush. There’s almost nothing “bad” that you’re heard of him, yet, when you find yourself walking towards him with a fiery determination in your eyes—you immediately know that you’re about to get hit with something you’d never expect. 

“A-are you sure?” you say, surprised to even find yourself stuttering. You’ve held yourself to such a high reputation—being your school’s academic weapon—you’ve worked hard to keep yourself true to that name. 

Well, to be fair, you didn’t expect Taesan to even say yes to your ridiculous plan—given that all that’s he’s ever done for you is say everything that will get on your nerves.

Taesan gives you a smirk. “Of course,” he says, clearing his throat. “Being the boyfriend of KOZ Academy’s academic weapon isn’t something you get to do everyday.”

The way he presses the emphasis on the word ‘boyfriend’ makes you flinch. It reminds you of your stupid plan; who in their right mind would offer Han Taesan—your rival—a fake dating deal just to make rumours about themselves go away?

“Right,” you roll your eyes. “Anyway, I think we need to enforce some guidelines and boundaries regarding this… set-up.”

Taesan shoves his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight to let himself stand more comfortably. The smirk still on his face, he replies, “alright. Hit me with all of ‘em.”

You whip your phone out, quickly showing him a document that you spent an entire night typing out—complete with every single thing he needed to do for you. 

“Here,” you say, frustrated at how Taesan’s smug smirk just never falters. 

Taesan runs a hand through his hair before leaning down to read through the document displayed on your phone. He finishes reading it quickly, taking a step closer to you after. He doesn’t say anything for a while, only to startle you by abruptly saying, “I agree.”

“What–?” you blurt out, surprised once again. You thought that Taesan would be more picky than– 

“Your terms are easy for me to do. However,” you narrow your eyes at the boy who’s towering in front of you. Of course he’s picky—he’s Taesan. “I’d like you to agree to my conditions as well. If I have to do some things for you, you’d have to do some things for me too.”

You sigh before nodding. How hard could it be? Besides, this whole ‘relationship’ you’re having with Taesan is merely a fake dating set-up. 

“Okay.”

Taesan whips out a full-blown smug smirk, making you roll your eyes. He pushes his glasses up his nose bridge, holding out two fingers. 

“First, you have to also put in the effort to make things real. Like, wearing my jersey when I have basketball games, and wearing my initials ‘round your neck,” he pushes his middle finger down, the smug grin still plastered on his face, “and secondly, you’ll have to let me kiss you anytime.”

The moment the word ‘kiss’ escapes his mouth, you choke on thin air. 

Why is my plan backfiring on me? 

“What? No–”

Taesan shrugs. “Basically, physical contact is allowed to be done anytime.”

You feel your face flush, immediately recalling the third condition that you showed Taesan. No physical affection unless needed. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that—it’s clashing with my third term.”

“But your first term: ‘the other party must always do his utmost best to make the relationship seem real’ exists, am I right?” Taesan objects relaxedly. “Then, my second term doesn’t clash with that. And I also do believe that that first term of yours comes before the rest. Am I right?”

You grit your teeth, sucking in a sharp breath. How could you forget? Taesan will always work to have the last word—be that in court or in conversations. 

Plus, he’s not entirely wrong. 

Though, you’ve never been someone who lets Taesan win willingly. 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes, your heart twisting in detest at the way Taesan’s face lights up with a smirk again. 

“Then, we have a deal?” Taesan asks. 

You stare into his dark brown eyes once again, registering what you’re about to commit yourself to. All just to get rid of your ex and the rumour he’s pulled you into. 

You hold out your hand, Taesan gladly reciprocating. 

“Deal.”

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IT didn’t hit you that you’re officially Han Taesan’s girlfriend that night. However, the next morning, right after the two of you signed the document at the coffee shop you always study at—it hit you like a million bricks from the sky. 

You’re in a “relationship” with the person you loathed the most for the past year. The exact same man who everyone adores, who’s called the it-boy, the campus crush—is now your most “beloved”. Freshman you would rather jump off a cliff than to offer her nemesis a fake-dating pact. 

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I guess. 

“Here,” Taesan hands you a velvet box—one that obviously contains jewellery of some sort. 

Of course. Han Taesan’s always prepared. 

You let out a deep sigh, knowing what’s inside. Despite that, you ask, “what’s this?”

Taesan gives you a grin, one that you always see him don during the countable times that he beats you in quizzes. “Open it—I’m sure you’ll like it.”

You run your fingers around the edges of the velvety box, sceptical at Taesan’s sudden soft tone. “Don’t talk to me like that,” you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. 

Taesan, instead of immediately throwing a scoff in your face, simply leans back into his seat with a chuckle. 

Not waiting for whatever reply he’s preparing to throw to you, you open the box. Your eyes lay upon a beautiful, dainty necklace with a “H.D” pendant, nested elegantly in the box. You bite back a gasp, though you’re unable to hide your surprise. The silver necklace is one of the most beautiful pieces of jewellery you’ve yet to lay your eyes upon—it’s dainty and simple, yet it screams elegance in the best way possible. 

You look up at Taesan, obviously bug-eyed. “What- I’m- thank you?”

Taesan throws his head back, laughing. He perches an eyebrow up, clearly amused. “What am I supposed to answer? ‘You’re welcome’?”

Oh. It’s part of his terms. 

You glare at him. 

Not missing a beat, Taesan says with a big grin on his face, “what is your lazy ass waiting for? Put it on—or do you need me to help with that?”

You massage your temples, tempted to stick your tongue out at him, hissing the obvious at him—that you do not want to wear his initials around your neck. 

“I don’t need your help,” you say between gritted teeth, harshly yanking the necklace from the box. You swiftly clasp the necklace around your neck, secretly surprised that you’re able to do so. 

Maintaining a glare, you retort, “I’m only wearing this stupid necklace because it’s part of your terms.”

You throw your gaze elsewhere, Taesan laughing his stomach out in the background. Why is he finding your irritated state so funny? 

The pendant feels cold against your skin, sending tingles. You gulp, feeling odd. You hadn’t announced your ‘relationship’ to your friends yet—but seeing you with Taesan’s initials could certainly start rumours. 

A part of you is jumping with triumph—your plan is starting to set its course, while another part of you is afraid of it all. What if you’re finally not good at something, no matter how much you try—pretending you’re in love with your rival, the bane of your existence?

“We’ll start slow,” you hear Taesan say, pulling you back into reality. You quickly morph into your stoic expression—one that you find yourself often putting up around people. “Like everyone else does. Soft launch.”

“Ah,” you manage, nodding. “Sounds good.”

“Even though that necklace certainly is a big jump for a soft launch,” Taesan voices, chuckling. His words cause you to narrow your eyes at him, hyper aware of the cold metal against your skin—a mark that Taesan managed to place on you. 

It’s all fake, you chant to yourself. Once Anton gets the message, it’ll all be over. 

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THE past few weeks had been a blur. Nothing was out of the ordinary—you attended classes, performed mootings and sent in assignments like usual. Though, only one thing that was out of the routine.

Taesan no longer felt like a thorn to your side. 

You still hate him—you despise the way he carries himself, so proud and confident. You wish you could punch his face for the way he’s so smooth with his words, the way that his charm works on everyone so well. You absolutely hate the way a handsome idiot like him had the potential to beat you in every single subject if you slacked for even a minute. 

Yet, to the public, he’s your boyfriend. 

A cliche: rivals to lovers, they say. 

Despite being the one proposing the whole fake dating plan, you had been the one following Taesan’s itinerary so far. The two of you had finally exchanged phone numbers, and at night, Taesan would always send a list of ideas on how to make the soft launch more obvious day by day. 

The first week, you found yourself wearing tops that highlighted the H.D pendant, styling your hair to make it more noticeable—you even went as far as attending Taesan’s birthday celebration to top the chances of people noticing the pendant. And Taesan didn’t inform you of this one, but you often found him telling his friends, yours, or random coursemates to pass you drinks and snacks. You had no idea how Taesan had gotten the list of all your favourite things to munch on, but you secretly did enjoy the free flow of snacks. Anton had passed you a snack from Taesan too—five packs of your favourite Choco Pie. You couldn’t forget the bewildered face Anton had as he passed them to you, eyes filled with question and a hint of jealousy.  

“What’s up with Han?” he asked.

You shoved the Choco Pies into your shoulder bag, biting back a smile. Who wouldn’t be jolly after getting five of their favourite tidbits? 

“How would I know?” you replied bitterly. You quickly turn away from Anton, the uncomfortable feeling of being around him overpowering the bubbly feeling you had from getting snacks. 

“Well, those Choco Pies are from him,” Anton repeated for the second time. “And I don’t recall him being anything but hostile to you.”

You suppress a scoff. “Maybe he’s had a change of heart? His brain is probably tired of coming up with things to try and outsmart me,” you muttered. As if. 

“Well, if anything—if that asshole tries to do anything to you, I’ll… be here for you, Y/N,” Anton said, taking a step closer. Your eyes widened and your jaw clenched. You quickly finished packing your bag up, swinging it over your shoulders. 

You said that last time, too. 

“Don’t talk to me, Anton,” you responded as monotony as possible before running out of the lecture hall, not giving Anton even a glance. 

The following weeks, Taesan was hanging out with you even more than the previous week. He wasn’t being too obvious, but to you, him walking slightly behind you and not throwing a loud sarcastic remark was already an apparent sign that would show everyone that your dynamics had changed. 

Anton had found yet another chance to corner you after a Public International Law lecture. You stayed back in the hall to reread your theoretical essay before sending it in. Behind you, Taesan was packing up his things, busy scrolling through something in his phone. 

“Hi, Y/N,” you froze when Anton’s voice reached your ear drums. 

You look up at him with a glare. “What do you want?”

Anton flashed his usual pitiful, soft smile. “Nothing. Just a meal with you—this week has been quite stressful for you, right? I heard that last Monday’s mooting was rough.”

“You’re not even a law student, Anton,” you seethed. The KOZ School of Business student ID card hanging on Anton’s neck looked extremely out of place amongst the ocean of law students. “Please kindly get lost, go back to the Business building.”

“My course mates are boring. Besides, you’re more fun to be around,” Anton replied. “I know we… haven’t been on good terms, but give me a chance to fix it all?”

You gritted your teeth, your hands beginning to shake. 

The audacity of this boy… where is my stupid fake boyfriend when I need him–?

“I think she clearly said for you to get lost, bud.”

You fought back a grin. Finally. 

“Han?” Anton tilted his head. “Wait– who are you to tell me that?”

Taesan stood next to you, his backpack dangling from one shoulder. His height towered significantly above you, making you standing right below his shoulders—enough to match Anton. “Who do you think I am?”

Anton’s eyes darted towards the pendant on your décolletage, his eyes bulging. “What the…” you heard him mutter under his breath. 

Taesan seemed to notice this too, and he swiftly pulled you close, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “So, get it now? Get lost, Lee, and give your ex some space. An ex is an ex for a reason.”

Anton then left with a fuming expression, leaving you in fits of relieved laughter after. You thanked Taesan, who simply responded with a polite smile. 

“By the end of this, don’t forget the wish, yeah?” he said, before walking out of the lecture hall. 

You stood there, blinking profusely. You had completely forgotten the last clause of your agreement with Taesan—once you were satisfied with his service, you had to grant him one wish. Anything that he wanted. 

You face palmed yourself. Why didn’t you think twice before typing that down? You mentally made a note to yourself to prepare your wallet for the outrageous request that the thorn in your side would make later on. 

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“ARE you and Taesan dating?” 

Sophia’s question makes you almost spit your lunch through your nose. 

“What?”

“Girl, don’t you dare pretend not,” Yunjin interrupts, pointing her spoon at you. “You literally have his initials as a necklace that you never take off! H.D., which means Han Dongmin, right? Isn’t that his real name?”

“It’s not like–”

“No, no. It’s so obvious! Taesan’s around you more now, and he even gave you a birthday present!”

Sophia smiles, “he looks at you so differently now!” 

Yunjin laughs, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, that too, I guess,” she then looks at you, directly in the eyes, “I guess Han Taesan and Y/N L/N have finally begun their lovers era, huh?”

You feel your cheeks warming up, and guilt fills your chest. You draw a sharp inhale before telling the girls the full story. And subconsciously, your fingers find the pendant, playing with it. 

“It’s fake,” you sigh, “I mean, not the necklace—he’s just pretending. I’m pretending, too. None of this is… real.”

Sophia gasps and Yunjin frowns. 

“Are you… sure? What for?” Sophia asks.

Yunjin nods in agreement. “I’ve always thought that dude had feelings for you, but I… I didn’t realise it’s actually wrong and my deductions were totally off.”

You scoff, though Yunjin’s words left you wondering. “Taesan doesn’t like me—have you girls seen how he treats me?”

“He treats you well,” Yunjin states plainly, shoving a spoonful of rice into her mouth. 

“No,” you immediately shake your head, “he hates seeing me happy! He always finds a way to stick his annoying nose into my life, mocking me. He’s like always, always there to only laugh at my face.” 

“Then why did he agree?” Sophia asks. 

“To what?”

“To fake date you,” she continues, taking a sip of her yakult. “Well, I’m sure you have a plan—a contract and all—don’t you?”

Your eyes widen. How do these two girls know you so well? 

“Yeah. I do. I’m doing all this because of Anton,” the look on your friends’ faces makes you feel a little relieved, “I need him to shut up about me.”

You recall the ridiculous rumour you’ve heard about you from Yunjin, that’s been going around like crazy—the rumour that you used to date Anton because he’s rich and that you used him as a bribe to get outstanding grades. Those close to you knew that is and would never become true—yet people are always jealous of others who have certain things better than them. 

It may seem like a small matter to some, but to you, it’s a matter of reputation. Your whole image and potentially, your graduation is at risk. What if the rumour reaches some professor and they report you? You couldn’t risk the huge amount of money and time you spent, only to be scrapped off the dean’s list due to some rumour. 

Yunjin herself had recorded proof of Anton trying to turn her against you, using that rumour. If she hadn’t shown you the recording, you wouldn’t have believed that sweet, kind Anton was the one who spread those malicious whispers about you.

Now, you’ve got to end it all. One way or another.

You continue finishing your lunch, Taesan somehow in mind. By the end of your lunch, you’re convinced that this is truly all an act—it’s nothing real, and in the end, you’re both just people who hate each other and use each other for selfish, personal reasons.

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“DO I really have to wear your ugly varsity jacket?” Dongmin hears you grunt through the call. He stifles a laugh, tossing a ball up and down. 

“Obviously, you dimwit,” he replies, “you’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?”

Dongmin lets himself smile. The word rolls off his tongue like a simple melody—it feels natural for him to say. He finds it odd, yet entertaining—your reaction is worth it all. Besides, it’s quite refreshing to take a break from hating you, sometimes. 

“Besides, your ex is going to be there,” Dongmin reminds, his voice more throaty than expected. “He’s on the team as well, remember?”

“Yeah,” he catches your quiet answer.  

“Anyway, how do you even have time for all this?” you question from the other end of the line. 

“Hmm,” Dongmin hums, “I do have time.” 

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” you hiss. “You’re in law school, Han Taesan.”

“What? Like it’s hard?”

Dongmin lets out a hearty laugh as he hears you gasp—one of the loudest and most genuine expressions he’s gotten out of you yet. 

“I’m so done with you,” you huff. Dongmin hears you shuffle through your closet, most likely finding something to wear. 

“You say that everytime,” Dongmin whispers to himself softly. 

“Anyway,” you announce loudly, “you better have some food for me once I arrive—I’m wearing your stupid varsity jacket.”

“Alright, sweetheart, anything for you,” Dongmin jests in a sing -song voice.

He hears you yelp in disgust, chuckling. “Yuck! Fuck off, Taesan!”

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IT’S a friendly match, nothing serious, Taesan had said; yet you’re here amongst other significant others, to watch him and his team play against another school’s team. 

At the bleachers, you feel called out, and insanely out of place. Everyone looks so in love—girlfriends wearing jerseys with their boyfriends’ numbers and names on the back, painted their faces accordingly, and even cheering for them with their hearts; mothers and siblings gathering together to support their sons and brothers.

Everyone looks so genuinely in love, and you’re the only one who’s there just because you have to. You arrived only two minutes before the match started, too, because you obviously don’t love Taesan enough to be rescheduling your work shift to see him play.

You fidget with the edges of the varsity jacket you’re wearing, oddly feeling how it’s perfectly oversized on you. 

Earlier, Taesan had spotted you sitting awkwardly on the bleachers. He ran over to you, quickly handing you a quesadilla and a cup of bubble tea, before jogging back to the basketball court to warm up. He didn’t say anything, nor did you—but the gesture made you feel weirdly fuzzy. 

Taesan did actually get you some food, even though you grumpily yelled at him to do so. You thought he wouldn’t, just so that he could get on your nerves, just like he always does. 

You watch him and the team warm up, pumping up positive energy with each other. You take a bite of your quesadilla, trying to ease your heart—yet you just can’t forget the real reason why you’re here. 

Jersey number 35.

The whistle blows, indicating the start of the game, and you catch Anton’s glance at you. He gives you a wide smile, winking twice—a sign that he made up, thanking you for coming, just like the old days. You grimace, turning away.

The mission is to make it seem like I’m in love with Taesan. 

You intently watch Taesan play in the arena, his moves sharp and powerful. He slips through the opposition’s defense flawlessly, scoring goals smoothly. Every time he throws the ball, it gets into the hoop—people erupt in cheers and he’s surrounded by his teammates. 

And every time, Taesan looks up at you, flashing his signature smirk. His grin sparkles, lighting up the room—it makes you feel like you’re the only one in the huge arena. 

It makes you feel odd. 

Like there’s so much more under that grin he flashes to you every time he scores. 

You touch the pendant on your décolletage, the cold metal stinging against your skin. Your fingers trace the letters—the initials of Taesan’s birth name—reminding you this is all a set-up. You’re supposed to pretend, and Taesan is pretending too. 

He must be.

Taking a deep breath, you tug the varsity jacket closer to your body, shoving your hands into its pockets. The weight of Taesan’s name and number lay heavy on your back, yet you don a bright smile—trying your best to show your support for him. 

Right now, you’re Han Taesan’s girlfriend. Player number 11’s girlfriend.

The match ends with Anton’s final goal, and KOZ Academy’s team wins 115-113. The entire gym erupts in waves of cheer and heartfelt hugs, every attending person feeling proud of their team, losing or not. You jog down the stairs, heading towards Taesan, whose height stands out in the crowd. 

When you reach the end of the stairs, you notice Anton’s gaze on you. You glance at him, the weight of past memories dragging you down. At the end of these exact same stairs, you used to run straight to Anton, engulfing him in a hug after a match. You used to kiss his cheek, congratulating him for a successful game. You used to feel like your entire world revolved around him, and that you would be happy with him. 

But that was in the past. Now, you can look at Anton with nothing in your heart. You feel nothing but plain resentment—damning him for the things he did to you. You had thought he was the love of your life, that you’d grow old with him—but Anton had other plans, and another girl that he prioritised more than you. 

You turn your head away, directing your gaze towards Taesan. He’s talking to his friends, his hair wet from the sweat. He’s grinning proudly, talking about something that’s interesting to boys. 

You sigh. Hopefully this whole set-up works—Anton leaves you alone, the rumours die down, and you can go back to bashing Taesan’s head. 

And hopefully, you can move on, too. Once and for all.

From the corner of your eyes, you see Anton take a step towards you. Though, what you don’t see is that Taesan is faster. He waves at you, calling your name with a big grin, before running to give you a hug. 

Your eyes widen upon the impact, and it’s like everything is in slow motion. 

Taesan pulls away, ruffling your hair. His eyes crinkle with his grin. “Are you proud of me, darling?”

Darling. 

You gulp. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

You give him a laugh, trying your best to not make it sound staged. Your nose crinkles at the smell of sweaty boys. Taesan notices, of course, and he chuckles. 

“Sorry, I must smell bad. I’ll be sure to spray on some more deodorant next time.”

You gaze into Taesan’s eyes, his arms still around your waist. There’s some kind of softness behind his teasing look—something that you’ve never seen before. 

A small smile forms on your lips, one that you’re unable to hold back. “Good job, Taesan.”

“Yeah?” Taesan laughs, his eyes forming crescent moons. “Thanks, Y/N.”

He then leans in to whisper, “that’s the first time I’ve heard that from you.”

You push him away, rolling your eyes. “Fuck off, Taesan. I’ll be waiting at the bus stop.”

Taesan laughs loudly as you stomp away. “By the way,” he yells, “you look good wearing my number, sweetheart!”

You lower your head, biting your lips to fight two things—the urge to flash the middle finger to the jolly Taesan behind you, and the weird fluttering feeling that erupts in your stomach every time he calls you ‘sweetheart’.

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“Y/N,” you turn around, finding a panting Anton in front of you. 

You’re standing in line outside one of the most famous pasta restaurants in the heart of the KOZ School of Medicine square, waiting to buy this one pasta dish you’ve been craving for the entire month. You didn’t tell anyone you’d be here—not even Taesan or the girls—so you’re weirded out by the fact that your ex found you here.

“...Anton,” you curtly acknowledge. 

“Is it true?” he asks. 

You force your eyes close for a second, wishing that it wasn’t wrong to beat someone up. “What?”

“That you’re dating Han Taesan. I saw him kissing your cheek last time.”

Your heart almost stops beating for a second. Almost two months have passed, and almost everyone in the entire campus of KOZ Academy knows that you and Taesan are finally getting tired of fighting each other—falling in love instead. 

Your plan has passed the soft launch phase, and now, you’re having your nemesis call you sweet, adoring nicknames out in public. 

“Yes,” you answer, managing a deadpan expression. “What about it?”

“Do you love him?” 

You narrow your eyes at Anton, feeling like if he keeps on shooting questions like this, he’d go home with a black eye. “Why does it matter if I love him or not?”

“Because,” Anton starts, his voice beginning to waver with every following word, “you used to love me.”

His words hang in the air, thick with a known, cursed history. You could hear your heart stutter for a split second, but you shake your head, quickly suppressing the feeling. You take in a sharp breath, feeling the heat of old anger rise in your chest. You force yourself to look at Anton, eyes hardening.

“That was two years ago, Anton,” you say, your voice detached. “And you made sure to end it, remember?”

Anton’s face flickers with something—guilt, regret, maybe even a hint of fear—but you’re not interested in seeing it. You’re sick of it—too familiar with the way he can spin his words to make himself seem like the victim.

“You don’t get to do this,” you continued, lips tightening into a thin line. “You don’t get to just show up and act like we can pick up where we left off, after what you did with Mina."

Anton’s face darkens the moment your old best friend’s name leaves your mouth, but you hold his gaze without flinching. Anton opens his mouth, probably to throw another lame and poorly explained excuse that you’ve heard before, but you’re faster than he is. 

“Save it,” you snap. “You don’t have any right to ask me if I love Taesan after what you did. You lost that right the moment you lied to me and slept with her.”

Anton looks taken aback, as if he hadn’t expected you to bring that up, but obviously, you don’t care. You’ve held your feelings in for so long—leaving them behind quietly to try and move on without a commotion. You’ve spent enough time letting him walk all over you in the past—you’re not about to let him do it again.

For a moment, Anton looks like he’s about to say something more, but you don’t give him a chance. You turn away, taking a small step back as you glance briefly at the line in front of you. “I’m done with this conversation, Anton. You should be, too.”

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THE next morning, after your first class of the day, you sigh as you find yourself waiting outside of a rather packed coffee shop—allegedly Taesan’s favourite one—bundled up in Taesan’s scarf. Autumn is starting to give way to winter, and as it’s doing so, the winds and temperatures are getting crazier. You bury your face further into the softness of Taesan’s scarf, letting the mixture of champagne orange, passion fruit, and sugar vanilla attack your senses. It’s disturbing, once the fact that the scarf that’s warming you up belongs to Taesan registers in your head; however, you had no choice. Freezing your nose off was the only other option. 

“Hey,” you hear Taesan’s voice, turning instantly towards him. 

“Apple pie latte?” he says, handing you a warm cup of said coffee. Grabbing it from him, you perk your eyebrows up. 

“How did you know?” you say, pushing the scarf down. Taesan shrugs, sipping his own drink. You glance at the sticker on his cup: cinnamon maple latte.

“Instincts.”

You snicker at his reply, rolling your eyes. “Cut me some slack.”

The two of you then walk back towards the law school complex, where both of your classes will be held next. The winds begin to blow, and you find yourself hiding half your face behind Taesan’s scarf. You squint your eyes, blinking harshly as the stray strands of hair sting them. 

“I love autumn, but not this kind,” you mumble. 

Taesan glances at you, and in one swift motion, he grabs your free hand and shoves it into the pocket of his coat. He interlaces his hand with yours, letting his body warmth transfer to you. 

Your eyes widen, your brain slow at processing the situation. You whip your head towards the tall man walking with you, his expression relaxed as ever. 

“What are you doing?” you hiss, trying to pull away. 

Taesan gives you a look that yells ‘really, Y/N?’. “Keeping you warm?”

“I don’t need your help,” you retort, yanking your hand away. 

Taesan grabs it back, shoving it into his pocket. This time, his grip on your hand is firmer than before. “I don’t need my girlfriend to freeze to death—it’s going to ruin my reputation.”

Realisation hits you, again, like a ton of bricks right at the face. 

Oh. 

“Okay,” you say quietly, letting him do his thing. You look away, deciding to admire the surrounding golden trees. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself of how this whole ‘thing’ with Taesan is temporary—and having a personal heat packet isn’t too bad. 

Once the two of you reach the lecture hall together, people begin to clearly spectate. You pull your hand away from him, rushing to your usual seat. Taesan, his expression calm as he always is, walks over to his usual seat as well—directly behind you. 

Then, two minutes before the lecture starts, the person you truly hated comes into view, and decides to sit at the empty seat next to you. 

“Hi, Y/N,” your ex, Anton, greets you with the biggest smile on his face. You mentally sob—already dreading the three hours to come.

You turn away, scooting as far as you could. The memories rush like a flood you can’t stop—reminding you of the heart-tearing pain the boy sitting next to you caused. 

“Y/N? You alright? You look pale,” Anton says, probing further.

“It’s the weather,” you reply dully, your lips downturned. You unravel Taesan’s scarf from your neck, placing it on your lap. Your eyes fixed onto the lecture, you ignore Anton’s attempts to get you conversing with him. 

“Y/N, are you free after class?” Anton whispers, twenty minutes into the lecture. 

“No.” You give him a side glance.

“And you don’t even take IT,” you fake a smile, “so I don’t think you should even be here. With due respect, get lost, yeah?”

“I’m honoured,” Anton whispers back. The soft smile on his face makes you gag. “You still remember things about me.”

“Oh, please,” you grimace, anger beginning to bubble up inside of you. “I’d rather make out with Taesan than remember even the tiniest bit of–”

You suck in your breath sharply, your cheeks flushing at an alarming rate. You had blurted your words out too fast to even register the fact that you’re actually wearing the said person’s initials in a necklace ‘round your neck. 

“You’d rather what now, sweetheart?” 

Hearing Taesan’s voice, you can almost see his smug smirk decorating that annoyingly attractive face of his. 

Your eyes widen. 

I did not just admit that.

You turn to Taesan for a moment, flashing him a sheepish smile. You quickly spin back to face the lecture, forcing yourself to focus. 

After the lecture concluded, you find yourself stuck in a sticky situation—Anton just can’t let you go out. 

“Do you want to go and grab lunch together? It’s pretty late for lunch, and I know your stomach gets upset easily if you don’t eat,” you wince upon hearing his soft tone. 

You frown, hating the fact that Anton knows almost a lot of things about you. “No, Anton, I’m sure I said–”

“She said no, Lee, I’m sure even a stupid motherfucker can understand.”

Seeing Anton’s eyes almost pop out at the sight of Taesan next to you, you’re sure that you look the same. You turn sharply towards Taesan, who has his hand perfectly placed on your back. The look on his face is fierce and scary, like he’s about to completely destroy Anton exactly where he’s standing.  

“Han,” Anton addresses him curtly. “I didn’t know that you’re on… good terms with Y/N.”

You fidget with the charm on your décolletage, collecting every bit of energy you have to maintain a stoic expression. 

Taesan flashes a sly smirk, pride radiating from his eyes as the corners of Anton’s lips twitch. “Why? Is it important to you who I’m close to?”

“No, but given your history with Y/N—I don’t want her to get hurt,” Anton blathers, “so I’m gladly asking you to–”

“What? Fuck off?” Taesan scoffs. Your eyes bulge, somehow not expecting Taesan’s choice of words to be so vulgar. “I think that’s what you’re supposed to do, Lee.”

“Y/N,” Anton says, desperation vivid in his voice. He grabs your wrist, and you instinctively step back. “C’mon, let’s go. I know you don’t like this stupid asshole here–”

Before you could even act, Taesan steps in front of you, shoving Anton to the floor. The students who are still lingering around stop to look. You couldn’t hold in your gasp—Taesan looks extremely angry, you swear you could see fire in his eyes. 

A thought clicks into your head. 

Taesan is the it-boy, of course he’s good at acting.

You take a step back, weirded by the heavy feeling of disappointment that begins to cloud your heart as soon as you remember the arrangement. 

It’s just acting, Y/N. Get it together. 

“Don’t touch her, bastard,” you hear Taesan hiss before he turns to you. Anger still lingering around, you watch with silence as Taesan relaxes the tension in his jaw. In a mirroring silence, he gestures for you to follow him out. You nod.

As you turn on your heel, Anton calls out, visibly irritated. 

“Y/N,” he says, “what’s going on?”

You give him a mocking smile. You swing Taesan’s scarf around your neck. “I don’t think I owe you an explanation, Anton.”

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AS you and Taesan walk out of the lecture hall, you can’t ignore the heavy weight settling in your chest. It keeps replaying in your mind: the way Taesan stepped in, fiercely protective—it’s all an act, right? You sneak a glance at Taesan, but his face is unreadable, his jaw still slightly clenched from the encounter.

“Taesan… you didn’t have to do that,” you mumble, playing with the hem of his scarf.

Taesan exhales through his nose, his shoulders rising slightly. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he then adds under his breath, “fucking bastard.”

You blink, unintentionally slowing your steps. That’s… different from what you expected.

“Taesan,” you try again, but he shoves his hands into his pockets, picking up the pace.

You know you should just let it go, but the air between the two of you feels heavier than it was before. Was it just an act? Maybe it was—and that Taesan’s acting skills are as good as the rom-com actors—but something about the way he had looked at Anton; like he was seconds away from doing more than just shoving him to the ground. 

It feels too… real.

A sudden gust of wind cuts through your coat, making you shiver. Instantly, Taesan grabs your wrist and pulls you into a nearby convenience store.

“Sit,” he orders, disappearing for a moment. You watch him move through the aisles, confusion twisting in your chest. You take a seat exactly where he ordered you to, your head fuzzy from the mixture of confusing, unnamed emotions.

When he returns, he kneels slightly, pressing a warm drink and a heat pack into your hands, his fingers lingering just a second too long.

“You’re hopeless,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “First my scarf, now this.”

You gasp dramatically, rolling your eyes as your lips twitch, your heart knocking against your ribs. “You’re the one who keeps giving me things.”

Taesan just hums in response, his gaze locking onto yours. His usual unreadable expression softens, something almost unreadable flickering in his eyes.

Your grip tightens on the cup, trying to shake off the way your body reacts to his warmth. This whole thing with Taesan was supposed to be temporary. So why did it feel like something had changed?

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DONGMIN takes several deep breaths, his eyes shut. The jazz music plays in the background, and the buzz of the cafe calms him down. 

No wonder Y/N likes this place. 

Dongmin opens his eyes, finding himself staring at you ordering drinks and some food for the two of you. You had dragged him here as soon as you finished your drink at the convenience store, repeating that you needed to treat him to some food. Your voice rings in his head, telling him that he needed to follow you to the coffee shop, to cool off his steam. 

“Do you like apple pie?” you ask, setting a plate of two slices of said dessert, accompanied by two scoops of vanilla ice cream.

“Why do you even ask if you’ve already gotten it? Seems like my preference doesn’t matter,” Dongmin replies, putting on the usual smirk. 

Your eyes widen and he chuckles. 

“Well,” you huff, “I like apple pie—and it’s impossible to find someone who doesn’t.”

“Alright,” Dongmin laughs, and it hits. His laughter dies down as the realisation sinks in—watching you devour your slice of apple pie like it’s the only food you’ll eat until the end of time. 

Dongmin, as he puts a bite of his food into his mouth, realises how messed up he is. He realises how often a hearty laugh escapes him when he’s with you—how a flustered, frustrated mess you make him. 

“Why are you being nice to me?” Dongmin asks. He pokes his fork absentmindedly into the crust of the apple pie, second guessing his question the moment it leaves him. 

You and he had always, always been rivals—a pair that’s never meant to get along. He’d always find you muttering curses and throwing glares in his direction; and he’d always find himself trying his best to reciprocate your disdain for him. 

Dongmin does hate you, too. 

He hates how you’re so confident, so diligent, so talented. He despises how hard you work, how determined you are, how you seem to always effortlessly bring him down and defeat him in academics. He feels the most intense dislike for you—whenever you walk in the room, he feels like the world is about to explode, along with his sanity. 

Dongmin hates, with a burning passion, how he can’t stop himself from falling in love with you. He absolutely loathes the way you smile, the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh, and the way you look at him—with such fiery determination that’s enough to knock him off his feet. He completely hates the way that he has to keep his tongue sharp, and his attitude insufferable, for you to give him a sliver of your attention. He perfectly hates the way it’s impossible for him to let you know that he doesn’t hate you, at all. 

Dongmin watches you open your mouth to reply, yet you don’t for a few moments. You return his gaze, uncertainty playing around in her eyes. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, tilting your head in confusion. “We’re just eating apple pie, Taesan,” you laugh sheepishly. 

For the first time, Dongmin doesn’t have an immediate answer. He swallows the bite of apple pie in his mouth, unsure of what he should say next. His smirk fades and hesitation engulfs him.

You notice this, of course, and your frown deepens. Though, before you could do anything, Jaehyun—Dongmin’s friend, suddenly appears.

He greets Dongmin, patting his shoulder. “Yo, Taesan, long time no see! Wait–” he pauses, laying his eyes on you. “Wait, am I dreaming? You two? Sitting together? Laughing? Are pigs flying now?”

You immediately shake your head, laughing along with Jaehyun. Dongmin, on the other hand, is dazed. He stays silent, still unsure of what to say. He’s finding everything peculiar—the way he’s unable to say anything, the way that his heart is thumping loudly against his chest at the mention of you as his girlfriend. 

He watches you politely say goodbye to Jaehyun, gaining certainty with every beat of his heart. 

His little crush on you is resurfacing, after two years of pushing it down with faked hatred. 

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AFTER Jaehyun leaves, you let yourself sneak a glance at Taesan, who’s absentmindedly poking holes in his already destroyed pie crust, avoiding your gaze. You notice his oddly quiet state—the Taesan you know would never miss the chance to throw in a witty remark. 

You throw him a glare, slightly hoping it’d make him knock out of his trance. You set your fork down with an audible clink. “You’re being weird. I mean, you always are insufferably weird, but this is even weirder.”

Taesan scoffs, lifting his drink to his lips. “And you’re being annoying. Paranoid.”

You cross your arms, an annoyed grimace forming on your face. “Am I?”

Taesan holds your gaze for a moment too long, something flickering in his eyes before he looks away. “Maybe not.”

Oh.

You lean back, sighing dramatically. “Fine. I don’t get what you being weird has with me being paranoid, but yeah, I’m totally being paranoid. Definitely imagining things,” you scoff sarcastically.

Taesan hums in agreement. “You do that a lot.”

You choke on air. Glaring at Taesan, you retort, “you’re infuriating.”

“And yet, here you are, sharing dessert with me,” Taesan smirks, tilting his head. 

You pause, blinking profusely.

That… is a valid point. How did you even get here? You and Taesan are supposed to be rivals. Aren’t you supposed to hate each other?

Your stomach twists, and suddenly, you find it difficult to swallow your final bites of apple pie.

After moments of deafening silence, you say, your voice slightly wavering, “you’re unbelievably good at dodging questions, Taesan.”

You bring your drink to your lips, hoping that you sounded casual. 

Taesan looks up from his finished plate of apple pie, smirking as he leans back. “Oh, yeah? Have you ever considered that you’re too good at asking too many questions, and it’s insufferable?”

Your eyes widen slightly, flickering to the way that his eyes glare vaguely at you. “Maybe I am,” you admit quietly, “but you’re dodging the real ones.”

Taesan’s smirk falters a little bit, just for a second, and there’s something unrecognisable in his eyes. Something you can’t put a name on. 

Maybe a shift in the air. Maybe it’s just your imagination. Or maybe it’s because your heart is racing just a little too fast.

You’re so focused on trying to read Taesan’s expressions that you don’t notice the way your voice softens. “So… if this whole thing is an act, why do I keep feeling like you actually care?”

You mentally hit yourself. That isn’t what you meant to say—and it’s certainly not what you would say in front of Taesan.

Though, it’s out before you can stop yourself. The words hang in the air, heavy and uncertain.

Taesan freezes, his eyes widening with a vulnerability for a fraction of a second. Then, just as quickly as it came, his guard comes back up. “Like we’ve discussed before, it’s an act. Nothing more.”

His voice is stern and plain, and his expression is stoic, but you catch the tremble in his hand as he’s fiddling with his fork. 

That, somehow, doesn’t sit right with you. 

You learn forward, the pendant swinging against your décolletage, your expression more serious now. “Then why do you care so much?”

You watch him closely, catching the tightening in his jaw and the way his hand proceeds to rest on the table, fingers anxiously tapping against the wood. Taesan doesn’t answer immediately, and instead, he looks away to drift his gaze to the window.

Your chest suddenly tightens. He’s acting like this is nothing, but you certainly feel it—the crack in the walls you’ve both constructed carefully against each other. It’s a tug at the back of your mind, a repeating whisper you’ve been trying so hard to push away.

And yet, the silence between you feels louder than ever.

Minutes pass by and the silence gets louder and louder. You’re lost in your own thoughts—realising just how much you’re affected by Taesan; just how much more you’re feeling than you want to admit. In the silence, you’re wondering, are you just imagining all this? Maybe it’s just you, maybe it’s the fact that you’re finding something more from this fake relationship you have with Taesan, your nemesis. 

Though, there’s something that you can’t deny: the fact that your chest tightens with fluttering butterflies every time he gets too close, every time his words shift to something softer than usual, it’s something that makes your heart trip in your chest.

“Y/N,” Taesan calls, his voice softer than anticipated, and you’re pulled out of your train of thought. You look at him slowly, uncertain and afraid of what’s to come. He pauses, as if he’s unsure of what to say next. “What if… I told you I’m not sure if I can pretend much longer?” 

His gaze finally meets yours, and for a moment, there’s no mask—just the raw sincerity in his eyes.

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You open your mouth, trying to say something—but nothing comes out. The evident truth in his words hits you like an ocean wave on a sunny day, and you can’t help but feel something is shifting between you both.

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THE next few weeks pass by like a ridiculously large time-skip in a movie. You’re doing things like you usually do—attend classes, do mootings, send in assignments, study for exams. Though, there’s one big thing in your life that you can’t ignore—Taesan, your fake-dating arrangement, and the lingering, unspoken tension between the two of you. The first week after the coffee shop episode, you couldn’t sleep even a wink—your mind kept on replaying the scenes over and over again, the way you caught Taesan’s guard almost falling down. You’re sure you felt it too, the cracks in the walls you’ve built against him—even for a short moment. 

At school, you’re hyper aware and extra distracted by Taesan. He’s doing his part of the agreement well, acting like he agreed he would. Every glance from him feels like a load of unspoken words, and the air between you two feels heavy. Every day you ponder, unsure of what to do with the new, fragile tension that’s settled between you and Taesan.

Today is the same—everything passes in a blur of lectures, assignments, and studying. You drag your heavy footsteps out of the room, your head spinning at the thought of the many assignments waiting for you. You look up, and the moment you step into the hallway, you see Taesan leaning against the wall, phone in hand, looking as calm as ever. 

You walk near him, and your eyes meet—you see a flicker of something there—a tension, a question neither of you have the answer to. 

“Y/N,” Taesan greets you with a casual, unreadable smile. You pause in your steps, turning to face him.

“Hi,” you reply quite timidly. You’re trying to sound casual, but you can hear the slight hitch in your voice. There’s no pretending this isn’t different now. There’s no pretending you didn’t almost cross a line last time. 

Taesan takes a final glance at his phone before shoving it into his pocket. “Still pretending this is just an act?” he asks, his voice surprisingly soft but laced with something familiar, almost teasing.

You pause, your breath stuck in your throat. Your heart, yet again, skips a beat, and you try to brush it off by laughing nervously. “Me? Pretending? I’m not pretending,” you say, and it’s directed more towards yourself than to him.

You’re not sure who’s trying to convince who anymore.

Taesan looks taken aback. He blinks profusely before putting his usual, calm expression back on. “Yeah,” he whispers, nodding, “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

You watch him walk away, heart twisting in the weirdest way. 

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DONGMIN hates the way everything is now. Why can’t he just tell you everything? Why can’t he just tell you that he isn’t pretending, that he actually cares?

He wants to stop everything–going back to shoving insults at your face might be the safest option of them all. Yet, Dongmin finds himself caring for you in the little ways—wrapping his scarf around your neck, adjusting the placement of your bangs with a simple ruffle, placing a tin of coffee and bread in front of you whenever you seem exhausted with studying, sliding post-its to you with his handwriting reminding you to take breaks when needed. He still finds his heart racing upon seeing you; the way your lips pout when you’re deep in thought, the way you smile and laugh so adorably upon hearing a funny joke from your friends, the way you’re still so cute even when frustrated. 

As he walks away, Dongmin fights with his own heart. Why was he acting like this? It’s so clear that you’re expecting something more, but why is he pushing you away? 

Dongmin takes a deep breath. Yeah, he’s scared. He’s afraid that maybe it’s all in his head, maybe you’re the one acting so well and it’s just gotten to him. 

Dongmin swears to get himself together, but it looks like he’s going to need more than just mental affirmations. 

The next day, he misses his alarm, for the first time in forever, and is running late to his 9 AM lecture. He’s speed walking through students, dodging them with a bag hanging on one shoulder and his hair still partially wet. Just as he’s about to near the entrance of the Law building, he hears raised voices nearby. He puts his hood up, his first instinct is to ignore it all—he’s got no time to eavesdrop on people’s business. However, he recognises one of the two quarrelling voices—yours. 

Dongmin’s steps come to a halt, and he turns to face you. His eyes slightly widen and his shoulders begin to tense as he sees you and Anton standing a few feet away, locked in an argument. He’s a bit too far away to hear the full conversation, yet he catches some bits of it.

You’re standing at your full height, stiffly in front of Anton, arms crossed and eyes blazing with fury. Anton, on the opposite side of you, no longer has that sickening, innocent smile—instead, he’s flashing you a mocking smirk. 

The argument is already reaching its peak, yet Dongmin is quick to analyse the situation just by picking up a few bits. 

“You think you’re really something, don’t you?” Anton taunts.

You scoff. Dongmin could tell you’re offended, yet the mask you put on really makes a difference. “At least I don’t have to put other people down to feel important.”

Anton scoffs back, “please. You act like you’re above all this, but you’re just as desperate for attention as everyone else.”

Dongmin clenches his jaw, watching the argument unfold as his fingers begin to twitch. 

You give Anton a mocking laugh, stepping forward. “I don’t care what you think, Anton Lee. I don’t care if you think I don’t love Taesan, because what matters is my own feelings, not yours. And I’m done wasting my time on you.”

Before you could turn away and enter the building, Anton grabs your wrist. 

It’s not aggressive, but it’s enough. Enough to make Dongmin see red.

Everything’s a blur—one second later, he’s towering in front of Anton, his eyes glaring daggers. 

“Let her go,” his voice is low and threatening, as sharp as a blade. 

Anton looks up, initially startled, but as soon as he sees Dongmin, he rolls his eyes. His hand still around your wrist, he says with a sneer, “look who’s here, Y/N’s knight in shining armour! Oh, so great, always the hero.”

Dongmin is too busy counting down the ways he could destroy Anton’s life to be noticing how immediate the warmth creeps up your cheeks. Dongmin, in one fluid motion, steps closer, standing between you and Anton. 

“Did you hear me?” his voice drops deadly lower than before, his posture relaxed yet his eyes are dangerous. “Let. Go.”

Anton huffs, roughly letting go of your hand. He shakes his head. “You two are seriously something else,” he mutters before storming away. 

You and Dongmin stand next to each other, cautiously eyeing Anton until he disappears from sight. For that moment, none of you say anything.

“What was that for?” you say suddenly, crossing your arms. “I didn’t need you to step in.”

Dongmin shoves his hood down to his neck, raising his eyebrow. Feeling slightly irritated, he scorns. “Yeah? Looked like you were having a great time.”

You roll your eyes, scoffing, but something pinches Dongmin’s heart as he notices there’s no real bite behind it. “I’m fine—I had it all handled.”

Silence. 

Dongmin exhales sharply, words shooting out of his mouth without second thought. “I know. It’s just–” 

He stops, his eyes landing on your wrist. Closes his mouth. 

You wait for a few moments, before warily asking. “What? Just what?”

Dongmin hesitates. Suddenly, it’s all he can push out of his throat. He’s already there, halfway crossing the line he’s put between you and him for the past two years. 

And then, it just… slips out. 

“I just can’t stand it, okay?”

Your frown deepens, confused. “Stand… what?”

Dongmin lets out a frustrated breath, turning sharply to completely face you. “I can’t stand seeing you with people like that fucking bastard. I can’t stand watching you get into these stupid situations. And I really, really can’t stand how much I—”

His eyes widen, and his words stumble upon a stop. Dongmin stammers, realising what he was just about to say. 

“Taesan,” you call, gently, hope suddenly shimmering in your eyes. “How much you what?”

Dongmin freezes. He’s silent, tongue frozen, unable to utter another word.

He can’t say it. 

Instead, he runs a hand through his hair, muttering curses under his breath. 

“You know what?” 

“Taesan–”

“Next time,” he says quickly, in a softer voice, “don’t… waste your time on a guy like him.”

Your eye contact is still intact, you open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Your eyes widen for a split second—as if you’re catching on to the feelings displayed, unknowingly, on Dongmin’s face. 

His concern is real.

“W-we should go,” you stammer instead, gesturing to the Law building. 

Dongmin nods. He grabs your backpack from you, signalling for you to walk in first. “Yeah. Let’s go.” 

You force yourself to walk as swiftly as possible to the lecture hall, heart pounding, mind racing. Behind you, Dongmin’s entire body is tense. He’s finally realising he can’t keep his feelings for you hidden forever.

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

THE next day, you can’t stop thinking about Taesan—and whatever he was about to say to you. Your mind races with a million different thoughts throughout the day. What if he actually feels the same? What if you’re not the only one looking for something more in this fake arrangement?

However, given that exams are looming closer, you’re only given a short amount of time to dwell on your thoughts. After your last class of the day, you find yourself cooped up in the library, studying the rest of the day away. Several of your friends join you, too. 

The study group grows, joined by both your friends and Taesan’s—though, you didn’t even realise that Taesan is sitting across you the entire day, until everyone starts leaving one by one. 

By midnight, it’s only you and him. You don’t look up, but you can feel your heart thumping faster than usual. You’re hyper aware of your surroundings—how close he is, how his scent feels comforting yet intimidating, and how his presence is reminding you of something that you’re too afraid to admit. 

“Y/N,” you open your eyes to someone gently shaking your shoulder, the reality of things crashing onto you all at once. You lift your head up, realising that you fell asleep in the middle of reviewing a past paper. Your eyes meet with Taesan’s concerned gaze. 

His voice is low and soft, as if it’s only for you. “Let’s take a break. You’ve been snoozing off way too many times.”

Your heart is beating a little faster than usual, but you agree. Taesan’s request seems too casual, and he looks like he needs a break too. 

You follow his lead, walking a little bit behind him to the convenience store that’s still open in campus grounds. He’s silent, observing you and letting you pick anything you want before paying for both your things and his. 

“Go sit,” he says, holding your instant tteokbokki package in hand, along with his instant noodles. “I’ll heat these up.”

Taesan quickly moves to the microwave before you can say anything in retaliation, a sign that you take seriously. He’s not in the mood for any fights. 

You take a seat, and soon after, Taesan joins you. He puts your instant meal in front of you, breaking your chopsticks for you. 

“Here,” he says, his voice quiet. “Careful, the tteok is still hot.”

He then slips his coat around you before turning back to his own beverages. 

You find yourself staring at him, long after he’s handed you your things. You watch him, peacefully releasing his tension—running a hand through his hair, chugging down a cup of coffee. 

Everything around you looks like it has a blurred filter on, yet one thing is crystal clear: Taesan, and his evident care for you. The longer you stare at him, the more you realise.

He’s always been the one. He’s always been there. 

It hits you harder than any bad grade has ever done. 

Taesan has always been like this—quietly looking out for you, quietly caring for you. 

All this while, all the banter, the little arguments, moments, and glances—it’s not just rivalry. It’s not just the fact that he always finds a way to make you all grumbly and irritated. It’s not just the fact that, even back when you were with Anton, he’d always find a way to show his care for you. 

It’s not just the fact that you enjoy his company, even if he makes you feel like you want to bang your head against the wall. 

You like him. 

You like Han Taesan. 

You quickly turn your head away, blood rushing to your head as soon as the realisation hits you. You stuff a few bites of instant tteokbokki into your mouth, wanting to quickly get rid of whatever this warm, refreshing feeling is. 

“Can you stop looking at me like that, L/N?” 

You cough, shocked at how his sudden comment breaks through the almost comforting silence. All the past moments you’ve had with him—the banter, the insults, the arguments—run through your head as soon as your last name, what Taesan had always called you, reaches your ears.

“Like what?” emboldened by the awakening of your feelings, you retort, your tone more challenging than you intended. 

Taesan snaps, pushing his chair back, raking a frustrated hand through his hair. 

“Like I’m your fucking boyfriend.”

“What?” you’re confused, not expecting that out of his mouth. “What are you–”

“Like you’re waiting for me to say something that I know I can’t take back.”

“Say it, then.”

You say, challenging him. It feels sentimental—like the old days, where all you did when you met Taesan was throw taunting words at him. But at the same time, the words come out of your mouth without realising—daring the two of you to finally cross the line. 

“I like you, okay? I probably love you at this point, I don’t know. I don’t know when it started, but I do. And I—” He exhales sharply, his voice softer. “I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t.”

The world stops spinning and you stare at him, blank. 

Your tongue feels numb, your heart racing at a million miles per hour. 

You feel the same, you’re sure, but you don’t know how to respond. Do you smile and say it back? Do you tease him, calling him an idiot like you always do? 

“I didn’t mean to fall for you,” you catch Taesan muttering. 

You smile. “Me too,” you say softly. 

Taesan lifts his head immediately, sharply turning to you with widened eyes. “... pardon?”

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

THE next few days feel like a refreshing spring breeze in the peak of winter, yet the air is filled with a cute awkwardness. After the confession, neither of you explicitly announce to one another that the two of you are a real couple now—yet your interactions feel new and unscripted, but no one exactly is making the first move. 

Of course, your friends notice before the two of you do. 

You’re sitting at the food hall together with Yunjin and Sophia, eating breakfast. You’re halfway through your pancakes, and Taesan—or Dongmin, as you call him now—suddenly takes a seat next to you. 

“Mind if I join, girls?” he asks, a charming grin on his face. He’s asking the table, yet his gaze is directed to you. You bite your lip shyly, nodding.  

“Sure, make yourself at home,” Yunjin says, her words laced with teasing. She watches with eagle eyes as Dongmin puts all of the sliced bananas from his serving of pancakes onto yours, knowing that you especially enjoy them with your breakfast pancakes. She snorts at the obvious look of love in Dongmin’s eyes, more evident now that he isn’t shoving insults at your face. “So, you two are really dating now?”

You choke on your bite of pancake, immediately blurting out,

“No!”

“Yes.”

You sharply turn to Dongmin, who has a smug look on his face. It’s the one look on his face that you’re used to, yet there’s a tint of pink on his cheeks. The edge of his smirk twitches, threatening to form into a cute, lovesick smile. 

“...I see,” Sophia interrupts your awkward eye contact, sighing dramatically. 

“We’re dating?” you ask Dongmin acutely, your brows connecting in an embarrassed frown. 

“I don’t know,” Dongmin shrugs casually, the look in his eyes teasing. “Are we?”

The blush that instantly creeps up your cheeks tells you the answer. You look away, suddenly focused on the way you’re cutting your pancakes. Dongmin’s laugh echoes to your left, and your friends’ send you teasing looks. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

A few months later, on the first week back after winter break, you go on a walk around campus with your boyfriend, Han Dongmin. It feels weird, calling him yours now. Just almost half a year ago, you were fighting your ego to have your nemesis fake-date you in order to intimidate your ex into leaving you and your life alone. Now, that same thorn in your side has become the light of your life, the apple of your eye. Now, the two of you are in something that’s not written on a flimsy contract.

Dongmin had also helped clear out the rumours surrounding you—in the most annoying, Han Taesan way—announcing the truth about Anton by spreading it like a rumour to everyone. You still get second-hand embarrassment remembering that day, bombarded by questions and apologies from acquaintances and people you’ve only seen around. 

“You know,” you say dreamily, distracted by your train of thought, “you’re so annoying—but I love you.”

Dongmin freezes, his steps coming to an immediate halt. You, too, freeze in your steps as you realise you’re a few steps ahead of him now. You turn around, eyebrows perked up. “What’s wrong, Dongmin?”

Dongmin. 

The sound of your voice calling his birth name repeats in his mind, like a favourite song on loop. He stares, unable to say anything. His eyes fall on the pendant dangling from your neck, one that you started wearing due to the fake-dating arrangement. He remembered insisting that you take it off, so that he can buy you a new one later, but you said that it’s special so you won’t take it off. 

I love you. 

Dongmin feels a smile slowly bloom on his face. 

She said it. She didn’t even hesitate. It’s like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

His face softens, jogging up to you. He gives you a cheeky smile. 

“Say that again.”

You frown. “What again?”

“The first part.”

“What–” you pause, eyes widening as you get what he’s talking about. Heat rushes up your cheeks, warming your face despite Dongmin’s scarf wrapped around it. “I–”

“Yeah,” Dongmin says, smirking as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Me too.”

You bury yourself into the familiar scent of Dongmin’s scarf as he kisses your cheek. 

“Fuck you, Han Dongmin,” you grumble, ignoring the obvious butterflies in your stomach. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

THAT weekend, you and Dongmin are eating lunch together at your favourite coffee shop. Dongmin had said that the vibes there makes him sleepy, and tried to bring you to eat at one of the more famous restaurants near the KOZ School of Engineering, yet the plan backfires on him when the line is certainly too long. 

Now, the two of you are back at your favourite coffee shop, sipping warm cinnamon lattes. 

“See?” you tease, smiling cheekily. “I told you this place is the best.”

Dongmin rolls his eyes, taking a big spoonful of the chocolate cinnamon roll on your plate. “I want to eat some real food, like kimchi jjigae, not these sweet chocolate desserts,” he complains, though he can’t hide the fact that he secretly loves it. 

“Yet you’re the one finishing my cinnamon roll,” you retort, letting him subconsciously finish your dessert. You’re familiar with his love for chocolate.

Dongmin flashes you an innocent smile, shrugging. “Not my fault.”

Comfortable silence engulfs the two of you, letting you bask in each other’s presence. Suddenly, Dongmin leans closer, adjusting the place of the H.D pendant on your décolletage. Frozen, you watch him lean back into his seat, smiling as he admires you. 

“You look good today,” he murmurs, “actually, you look good everyday.”

An undeniable tint of pink colours your face. “I’m literally wearing a black turtleneck sweater, Dongmin.”

His gaze softens. “Like the first time you sat next to me, three years ago, during our foundation year.”

Your eyes widen, your mind replaying the memory, fresh like it happened yesterday. “You… remember?” 

“Of course,” Dongmin replies, his smile delicate. 

“I even remember the day you walked up to me, confident and all. I thought you were going to brag to my face that you won first place for the quiz we had the day before, but then you told me to fake date you.”

You almost spit out the coffee from your mouth. “Han Dongmin!” you hiss. “Don’t remind me… it was so stupid.”

“Stupid?” Dongmin asks, tilting his head. The signature cocky smirk is back on his face. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah…” you sigh, “I mean, I could’ve resolved the matter by myself, you know–”

“But you know that I’m the best option,” Dongmin cuts you off, smug. You roll your eyes.

“I don’t think it’s stupid, though,” he continues, his expression softer. More… raw. “To be honest, I think I was ecstatic that you walked up to me that day.”

“Why?” you ask croakily. 

“‘Cause I’ve always liked you, Y/N. I always have. I just don’t understand where things went wrong—maybe it’s the way I thought teasing you would gain me your attention at first. It did. But then, you became used to my teasing and thought of me as a threat—maybe ‘cause I’m smart as hell, too—but yeah. I don’t know how to say it but, all of that hatred was… pretend.”

You blink at him, too shocked to process his words. You try to reply, but mere stuttering comes out, and your face turns bright red. 

Dongmin notices this, of course, and he turns on his shameless, impudent grin. “Besides, you said you’re going to grant me any wish that I have, right?”

Oh. 

You inhale sharply. How could you forget? You immediately bring out your phone, checking the balance in your bank account. It’s quite a luxury, due to you working a few part time jobs during your break and whenever you can—but you certainly don’t think it’s fit for whatever grand wish Dongmin is about to demand from you. 

“Fine,” you huff, “only because it’s part of our… old contract.”

“Old contract, huh?” Dongmin wheezes, already laughing hard. You frown, fighting back a smile. 

“Why are you always laughing whenever I speak, dumbass?”

“Hey,” Dongmin pauses his laughter, flicking your forehead gently. It doesn’t even hurt, but you gasp dramatically, and he laughs it off. “It’s babe for you, sweet girl. And, I’m not laughing at you. I’m just admiring how cute and funny you are.”

Babe, huh?

You snort, hiding a smile. “Fine.”

“Anyway, speaking of the old contract,” Dongmin grins, “what’s the new one, then?”

“You haven’t even told me what sort of dumb, overpriced thing you want for your wish,” you say, lips set in a grim line. “And now you want another one?”

“My wish, huh?”

The unreadable look on his face makes you brace yourself and your wallet.

“Then, my darling, this is my wish.”

Dongmin leans forward, brushing his lips against yours. It’s subtle, short and sweet, but significant enough for you to realise it all—the reality of your feelings and his. He lingers for a while before sitting back in his chair. 

“So,” he says coolly, ignoring the plain blush streaked across his face. “Can you grant me the wish? To kiss you anytime, and anywhere I want?”

“Basically, physical affection can be done anytime?” you say, quoting what this man in front of you said months ago, when both of you first agreed on the fake-dating situation. The whole absurd set-up that brought the two of you to where you are, today. 

Dongmin laughs, clearly impressed. “Yeah,” he nods. 

You give him a warm smile, glad that you’re finally able to follow your heart’s desires, and to not put up a wall of defense around him anymore. 

“Wish granted.”

― © htaesan, 2025.

The tension between the two of you was impossible to miss. It had existed long before today, lingering through every meeting where the conference room became a battlefield of endless jabs and razor-sharp remarks, all neatly disguised as "formal debate" between you and Jaehyun.

As the Head of the Discipline Committee, you were responsible for the overall safety of the university's students. Your judgment was rooted in logic and existing regulations, ensuring that every proposal complied with university policies and that every rule was enforced without exception. To you, everything came down to authority, consequences, and structure.

Jaehyun, on the other hand, served as the Student Council President. He oversaw event proposals from clubs and organizations while advocating for student welfare, approaching every discussion with practicality and the students' best interests in mind. His leadership relied on soft power, persuasion, and popularity.

The contrast between the two of you couldn't have been clearer. While Jaehyun focused on what the students needed, you focused on what they were allowed to do. He created opportunities for them to make memories, whereas you drew the boundaries that kept those opportunities in check. He was admired by the student body; you were respected—if not outright feared. He negotiated, while you enforced.

Every committee member under the two of you had learned to mentally prepare themselves whenever the weekly meeting email landed in their inbox. What was scheduled to last two hours almost always stretched into four, with at least half of that time inevitably consumed by you and Jaehyun arguing over one another's points.

As much as you hated to admit it, you couldn't deny the familiar knot that tightened in your stomach whenever Jaehyun fired back with that infuriatingly sharp tongue of his. Every rebuttal rolled off his lips with practiced precision, as though he had already anticipated every loophole you would point out in an event proposal long before you ever opened your mouth.

It certainly didn't help that he looked unfairly put together while doing it. His prescribed glasses rested low on the bridge of his nose, and the sleeves of his white linen shirt were rolled neatly to his forearms, offering just enough of a glimpse at the biceps he'd clearly been spending more time building lately. Throughout every presentation, his eyes never left you whenever you interrupted to point out another violation of campus regulations, the corner of his lips curling into a knowing smirk as though he enjoyed every second of provoking you.

You quickly shook the thoughts away, refusing to let your mind wander any further, and redirected your attention to the meeting at hand.

Seated at the center of the long conference table inside the Discipline Committee room, you flipped through the stack of proposals for the university's upcoming events while representatives from each organization presented their plans one after another.

"I think inviting this lineup would put us over budget," you said, your tone calm yet firm.

Standing at the front of the room, Sungho, the Student Council representative attending in Jaehyun's place, continued presenting the proposed K-pop lineup for the university's annual Summer Waterbomb Festival.

Leaning back slightly in your chair, you absentmindedly tapped the end of your pen against the conference table as your eyes scanned the projected budget. Every figure, every spreadsheet, every projected expense was supposed to keep your mind occupied— a fortress built on logic and reason.

You clenched your jaw before continuing. "Even after accounting for sponsorships and revenue from the festival stalls, we're still stretching the allocation too far." Lifting the proposal just enough to indicate the estimated expenses, you kept your voice steady despite the unwelcome distraction threatening your concentration. "If anything unexpected comes up during the preparation period, we'll have almost no financial buffer left."

Normally, this discussion would've been between you and Jaehyun.

Unfortunately— or perhaps fortunately— he was still in class, leaving only two Student Council committee members to attend the meeting in his place.

The room felt noticeably quieter without him. There were no playful remarks to derail the discussion, no stubborn negotiations that dragged a two-hour meeting into four. Instead, there were only proposals, calculations, and routine discussions that somehow felt far duller than they should have.

Sungho nodded, quickly jotting down a few notes before attempting to defend the budget. "We can adjust the catering costs to compensate, Captain. The festival's prestige depends on this specific lineup."

"Prestige shouldn't come at the cost of fiscal stability," you replied without hesitation.

Silence settled over the room, broken only by the soft scratching of pens across paper.

You were doing exactly what a Head of the Discipline Committee was supposed to do— identifying every loophole, questioning every oversight, and ensuring every proposal complied with university regulations. Your arguments were as precise and uncompromising as ever.

Yet the absence of one particularly infuriating, dark-haired nuisance was impossible to ignore.

Without Jaehyun leaning back in his chair with that infuriating smirk, ready to counter every point you made, the debate felt strangely hollow. There was no one to lock eyes with across the conference table, no teasing remark murmured just loud enough to test your composure, no relentless back-and-forth that somehow made every meeting feel alive despite how much it exhausted you.

Everything was efficient. Everything was orderly.

Everything was lifeless.

Before you even realized what you were doing, your gaze drifted temporarily to the empty chair reserved for the Student Council President.

A familiar sound drifted in from the hallway.

The unmistakable rhythm of confident, unhurried footsteps drew closer with each passing second, and your traitorous heart answered with a single, heavy thump against your ribs. Determined not to betray yourself, you kept your eyes fixed on the budget report, refusing to look up even as the heavy oak door swung open.

"I'm sorry," a familiar voice called, smooth with amusement. "Am I late to the party? Please tell me the most important decisions haven't been made without the President."

Jaehyun looked entirely too relaxed for someone who had just walked out of what was undoubtedly a grueling biomedical engineering lecture. A dark navy sweater hugged his frame, making his skin appear almost luminous beneath the conference room lights, while his slightly tousled hair suggested he'd spent the walk over absentmindedly running a hand through it.

His gaze swept across the room in a practiced glance, acknowledging the other representatives only briefly before settling squarely on you.

The corner of his mouth lifted into a knowing—devastatingly handsome—smirk.

"You look particularly fierce today, Ms. Protocol," he said, his voice dropping into that low, melodic drawl you hated for how easily it lingered in your ears. The nickname rolled off his tongue with infuriating ease, every syllable carrying a teasing familiarity that no one else seemed to question. "Is the budget giving you trouble, or are you just missing my expert guidance?"

"The budget," you repeated, deliberately emphasizing the word as the tip of your pen resumed its rhythmic tapping against the proposal. "Why is it always the same issue with your organization?"

A quiet sigh escaped you before you continued. "If it isn't another request to extend the event curfew, it's a budget that exceeds the allocated funds."

Only then did you finally look up.

Jaehyun had already settled into his chair with an ease that felt entirely intentional, leaning forward with his elbows resting on the table as though he had all the time in the world. His attention never wavered from yours, the intensity in his gaze at odds with the formal atmosphere surrounding the meeting.

"Well?" you prompted. "Do you actually enjoy having your proposals sent back by the Discipline Committee?" Your voice remained impeccably professional, but everyone around the table recognized the familiar edge beneath it.

"Sent back?" Jaehyun echoed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "That's a harsh way to put it, Y/N."

He reached for the proposal in front of you, his fingertips brushing the edge of the document— close enough for the contact to feel deliberate without actually touching you.

"We prefer to think of it as a collaborative refinement process." His smile widened almost imperceptibly. "You provide the boundaries, and we provide the vision."

The slight tightening of your jaw didn't escape him.

Turning to Sungho, he continued as though the two of you hadn't just exchanged another silent challenge. "Let's revisit the catering budget. If we tighten the logistics, we can recover the buffer the Captain's so concerned about."

Then he looked back at you.

"Unless..." His voice dipped just enough for the word to carry across the table without losing its private edge. A mischievous glint flickered in his eyes as though the rest of the room had momentarily ceased to exist. "Ms. Protocol thinks we're incapable of being responsible."

He punctuated the remark with a casual wink.

You tightened your grip around the pen, forcing yourself to remain composed. "You're asking me to approve additional spending based on projected savings that don't exist yet," you said evenly. "I won't gamble the committee's budget on optimism."

To everyone else, it was another playful jab in the never-ending rivalry between the Student Council President and the Head of the Discipline Committee.

To you, it was a challenge— another move in the dance the two of you never seemed to stop dancing.

A quiet laugh escaped Jaehyun. It wasn't mocking. If anything, it sounded almost impressive.

Rather than rising to the challenge, he simply withdrew his hand from the proposal and leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxing as though he had all the patience in the world.

"Tell me something, Y/N." His voice remained calm, almost conversational.

"If our Finance Committee comes back tomorrow and confirms we can recover every won of that contingency..." He let the question hang for a beat before finishing, "...would you approve the lineup?"

The room fell silent. For the first time that afternoon, you hesitated. It lasted no more than a heartbeat, but your breath caught all the same.

His eyes lingered on you just long enough to tell you he'd caught the crack in your composure. "Because if the answer is still no," he said softly, "then this was never about the budget."

Jaehyun noticed.

Of course he did.

The words lodged themselves in your throat. Every sharp retort and cutting remark you had prepared dissolved before they could leave your lips.

Because he wasn't wrong.

If you pushed back now without a legitimate reason, everyone in the room would see through it. They would realize your objections were no longer rooted entirely in policy but were beginning to blur with something far more personal. Worse still, Jaehyun's compromise was reasonable—practical, even—and rejecting it outright would only weaken your own argument.

In that moment, all you wanted to do was shut him up by crashing your lips against his.

You hated that he'd backed you into a corner.

You hated even more that he had done it so effortlessly.

It was ridiculous, really. Somewhere between months of relentless arguments and endless meetings, the two of you had discovered that the only way to silence the frustration was to kiss each other senseless. You couldn't stand each other emotionally, yet somehow the only person who truly understood the pressure you were under was the one sitting across the table.

So you both fuck.

Not because you liked each other— not that either of you would ever admit to such a thing— but because it was the easiest way to bleed off the stress, to satisfy the adrenaline that came with constantly pushing each other's buttons, and to release the tension neither of you seemed capable of escaping.

A few more minutes of discussion passed before the meeting finally came to an end. Committee members gathered their documents, exchanged polite farewells, and gradually filtered out of the conference room, their conversations fading into the hallway until silence settled over the space once more.

You, however, remained in your seat.

Your gaze stayed fixed on the proposal lying open in front of you, glaring at the neatly printed pages as though sheer determination alone could somehow rewrite the outcome of the meeting.

It couldn't.

After Jaehyun proposed having the Finance Committee produce revised projections, the rest of the board had quickly rallied behind the idea. One by one, members voiced their agreement, citing previous festivals and successful budget adjustments as examples until it no longer felt like they were evaluating the proposal— it felt like they were countering you.

By the time the votes were counted, the proposal had passed with revised funding, granting the Student Council a larger budget for the upcoming Summer Waterbomb Festival.

The decision was final.

With a quiet exhale, you leaned back in your chair and resumed tapping the end of your pen against the tabletop, an unconscious habit you'd developed whenever things slipped beyond your control. The steady rhythm echoed through the now-empty room.

Once. Twice. Again.

The soft, rhythmic clicks echoed through the now-empty meeting room, betraying the frustration you had worked so hard to conceal throughout the discussion. Beneath your composed exterior, irritation simmered restlessly under your skin. Despite every argument you had made, the visionaries had won.

You had fought for stability, yet the budget had expanded anyway. It was a victory for the Student Council— and perhaps for the students, who would undoubtedly celebrate the popular K-pop lineup. It was certainly a triumph for Jaehyun.

For you, however, it felt like a personal defeat against the meticulously ordered world you had built.

"You're going to break that pen if you keep at it like that."

His voice was lower now, stripped of the easy warmth he wore in front of everyone else.

Jaehyun crossed the room with quiet steps, the carpet swallowing the sound of his approach before he pulled out the chair beside yours and sat down, slipping effortlessly into the space you usually kept off-limits.

He leaned in until his shoulder hovered just shy of brushing yours, and the clean, expensive musk of his cologne drifted into your senses, making your breath hitch despite yourself.

"You look like you're planning a murder, Y/N," he teased, the corner of his mouth lifting into an amused smile. Yet there was an unfamiliar softness in his eyes, one reserved for moments like these, when the audience had long since disappeared. "Was the budget really that devastating, or are you just annoyed that you couldn't keep me in line today?"

"Shut up, Jaehyun," you muttered, refusing to look away from the proposal still spread across the table. Your glare remained fixed on the pages, though whether it was directed at the paperwork or at him had become increasingly difficult to tell.

"Before I actually murder you with this pen."

Jaehyun let out a soft, delighted huff of laughter, the sound vibrating in the small space between you. His gaze dropped to your lips for the briefest, most dangerous second before returning to your eyes, the playful mask he wore in public slipping away to reveal the quieter, unreadable version of himself that only you ever saw.

"Such a violent temperament for someone so composed," he murmured, his voice dipping into something more intimate than teasing. His hand moved before you could react, long fingers gently wrapping around yours to still the restless tapping of your pen. His skin was warm against yours, a stark contrast to the cool metal resting between your grip.

"Does this mean you're going to hold a grudge?" he asked, studying you with a mix of amusement and genuine curiosity. "Because if you are, you're going to have to come up with something far more creative than threatening me with a pen."

Your eyes flicked down to where his hand enclosed yours, his thumb drawing a slow, unhurried circle over your knuckles as though he had all the time in the world.

"Right," you said at last, voice steadying into something sharper. "It's all because of you."

Then you finally turned fully to face him. "I guess it's only acceptable for me to use that dick of yours to relieve some of this frustration, right?"

The words landed cleanly in the air between you, precise and unflinching in the same clinical tone you used to dismantle a budget proposal, though the weight of them shifted the atmosphere entirely.

The air in the room seemed to vanish.

For a brief moment, the only sound was the distant hum of the university’s ventilation system— a quiet, indifferent backdrop to the sudden and violent spike of tension between the two of you.

Jaehyun froze.

The easy, lopsided grin he usually wore faltered as his eyes widened slightly, processing the bluntness of your words. He had expected a sharp retort, maybe a witty jab or a pointed lecture about fiscal irresponsibility. What he hadn't expected was for you to strip away every layer of professional restraint and leave nothing but unfiltered intent behind.

A slow heat crept up his neck, spreading across his cheeks before he could stop it. Whatever composed and easygoing image he carried in public was gone, replaced by something quieter yet sharper— something that made his breath turn shallow.

He exhaled slowly, unevenly.

His gaze darkened as it held yours, searching for even the smallest hesitation. When he found none, his grip on your hand tightened slightly, his thumb pressing more deliberately against your skin.

"Careful, Y/N," he rasped, his voice dropping into something rougher than before. "Say things like that in a room this quiet, and people might start thinking the Head of Discipline Committee has lost her composure."

"I am," you said, your voice steady despite the heat behind it, "and I'm so desperate to let go of this frustration that I'm this close to killing someone." The words came out sharp, controlled, almost frightening in their certainty.

Jaehyun’s pupils darkened, the shift immediate and unmistakable. "Then let's not keep you waiting," he murmured.

After making sure you both left at different times so no suspicion lingered among your respective committees, you eventually found yourselves inside Jaehyun’s car, parked far from the prying eyes of campus.

The moment the door shut, whatever restraint you had been holding onto all day snapped cleanly.

You didn’t waste any time to pull Jaehyun into a kiss field with all the built-up frustration, casually straddling him on the driver seat. Your grips on his navy sweater tightened. You were a whirlwind of suppressed tension, your body moving with a desperate and hungry urgency that left Jaehyun breathless. The friction of your thighs against him was a silent command, a demand for him to finally bridge the distance they had maintained all day.

Jaehyun let out a low and guttural groan into your mouth, his hands finding your waist to steady you. He met your kiss with equal ferocity, his tongue tangling with yours in a frantic and uncoordinated dance of need. The scent of yours, something crisp and elegant, now mixed with the heat of your skin drove him to the brink of madness. 

The veneer of the polished Student Council President and the stoic Head of Discipline Committee shattered completely. 

“God, princess.” He rasped against your lips, his fingers digging into the soft curve of your hips. He pulled you closer, eliminating every millimeter of space between you both. The navy fabric of his sweater bunched under your tight grip, a testament to how much you were clinging to him for stability. 

His hands slid from your waist, travelling upward to cup your face. His thumbs traced your jawline with a feverish intensity.  He could feel the tremor in his hands, the same restless energy you had been channeling into your pen just moments ago. Now, the energy was focused entirely on him.

Jaehyun shifted, his hips tilting upward to meet your pressure, his eyes dark with a singular and consuming purpose. 

The silence of the parked car was filled only with the sound of their ragged breathing and the heavy, rhythmic thud of two hearts beating in a frantic and synchronized tempo, probably jolted a bit as it moved along to match the rhythms of you both.

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath. You moved along your hips, humping against him through the clothes while your hands travelled all the way to his sides, exploring his muscles through the shirt as if it reduced every inch of your frustration. 

Your lips moved to his neck, licking and biting against the exposed skin as if you were in charge. Jaehyun threw his head back against the headrest, a sharp yet choked sound escaping his throat the moment your teeth grazed the sensitive skin of his neck. The sensation was electric, a searing brand that made his vision blur. 

Every time you grounded your hips against him, the friction of the denim and cotton felt like a beautiful torture, driving him toward a breaking point he was desperate to reach.

“You’re… relentless,” Jaehyun managed to grit out, his voice a broken and low rumble.

His hands abandoned your face, sliding down your back to pull you even tighter against him, as if trying to fuse your both bodies into one. 

Your eyes found him again, taking in the way he looked beneath you— undone in a way he never allowed himself to be anywhere else. 

He needed more than just the sensation of your movement.

He needed the heat of your skin.

Your hand moved up without hesitation, resting lightly at his throat, thumb brushing over his pulse as it betrayed how much he was trying to stay composed. 

“Fuck..” You breathed, “I hate you so fucking much,” you muttered in the midst of your shaky breath, your hips pressed even further. Your underwear was dampened with your wetness, dragging them along to the obvious tent of his dick through his denim jeans, earning a strangled and desperate sound from Jaehyun. 

Jaehyun’s eyes snapped open, dark and dilated, as your thumb traced the movement of his throat. The sensation was a delicious and agonizing tether, grounding him even as you pushed him toward the edge of insanity. 

Your beautiful yet venomous declaration of hatred confession sent a surge of pure, unadulterated heat through his veins. Jaehyun loved it when you were like this: raw, unpolished, and entirely unconcerned with the dignity your reputation usually demanded.

“Then hate me harder,” he rasped, his voice a jagged wreck of its usual melodic self. 

Jaehyun reached up, his large hands captured your wrist to guide your hand, pressing your palm even more firmly against the pulse point of his neck. He wanted you to feel how fast his heart was racing, how much you were physically unravelling him. 

His hips bucked upward in a reflexive yet hungry attempt to close the tortuous gap between you both. The friction was a slow burn, a maddening tease that made his entire body ache with the need to be inside her. You matched his rhythm, moving your hips in circle motion before lifting your hips, only to drop it against his thighs with much intensity. 

Your head threw to the back, ragged breath followed by his other unoccupied hand guiding your hips. A strangled moan escaped from your lips and before you could come, his grip on your hips tightened with bruising force, forcing you to stay still on his hips. 

The hand that hovered yours slid down, using both of his hands to peek the inside of your thighs underneath your cotton skirt, moving your panty to the other side. Catching up with him, your hands dropped to his denim jeans, unbuckled the belt and unzipped the jeans, exposing the very dick that you had been so desperately trying to ride. 

“Fuckkkk— hngh…” You shut your eyes tight when the head of his cock slid inside you with ease, his hands now dropped on your hips as he guided you down from the position. You dropped your head to his shoulder, burying your face against the crook of his neck. “God, I really hate you.”

“Your words, your endless insults..” 

You added on, “Your cock.” 

“I fucking hate everything.” You managed to spill out the words that had been threatening to escape from the tip of your tongue, grazed your teeth against his skin, your walls clenched tightly around his length. 

The young man let out a sound that was half groan and half sob as your internal muscles clamped around him with punishing, exquisite tightness. The sensation of your clenching was so intense it felt as though you were trying to pull him apart from the inside. 

He gripped your hips so hard his knuckles turned white, his head lulling back against the seat as he surrendered to the overwhelming friction of your body. 

“Hate me more,” Jaehyun gasped, his voice a broken mess. “Hate every single second of this.”

He loved the way you weaponized your frustration, turning your supposed disdain into a fuel that burned hotter than any genuine affection could. You were a storm, and he was more than willing to drown in you.

Jaehyun began to thrust upward, his movements heavy and deliberate, meeting your downward rhythm with a primal force. The car rocked violently on its suspension, a rhythmic creak echoing the frantic pace of the union. 

He leaned forward, his chest pressing against yours as his lips found your ear to whisper a dark and breathless truth. “You can hate me all you want, princess. As long as you never stop wanting me like this.”

A breathless laugh slipped past you, unsteady and fractured, more feeling than sound as the tension between you both spiraled further out of control. The proximity, the heat, the danger of being caught— it all blurred together until there was nothing coherent left to hold onto.

“Oh, I’m surely going to hate you,” you bit back, “I’ll make sure no one could make me hate you as much as how good I make you feel.”

You lifted your head, hands gripped both of his shoulders as you moved along with his thrusts, your hips pressed against his thighs. Arching your body, your head tilted to the back in full bliss. 

“Is that a promise, princess?” Jaehyun smirked, he loved the way your pride remained intact even as your body betrayed her, your voice trembled with the sheer intensity of the pleasure he was forcing you to endure.

Jaehyun surged upward, his thrust became harder and frantic, driven by the sight of your arched back and the way your eyes rolled back. “Fuck, princess. You feel so fucking good.” 

“So fucking perfect, and all for me, right?” The young man whispered against the sensitive skin of your neck when he leaned in, his right hand on your back while his left hand remained on your hips. 

When you clenched again, his hiss morphed into a curse. His thrust deepened, abusing your cunt just as much as you hate him, breaking you into the most melodic, shattered moaning mess. 

“Fuck.. Cl-Close,” you pulled the inner of your lower lips inside, your hips moved in rather chaotic, messy motions just to pull you both closer to the edge. “Yes, God, please—”

“I’m…. hngh, I’m going to..” your words became incoherent, breath ragged. “I’m close, mmmph— Oh God, fuck!” You screamed, your eyes shut tight as white-hot pleasure blazed through you, forming the white circle around his base.

Jaehyun didn’t stop at all— instead, he fucked even harder, his thrusts uneven and messy at this point, the car obviously jerked in a very suspicious way. His grips were all over your body, knuckles white, moving his hips with desperate urgency. 

“Fuck princess,” the young man whispered against your skin, forcing you down to his hips as he moved one last thrust upward, his entire world tilt on its axis when the hot sperm splurted inside you, coating each of your wall with his cum followed by a guttural groan. 

He slumped back against the seat, chest rising and falling unevenly as he tried to catch his breath, while you remained against him for a moment longer, unwilling to move just yet.

“You’re a terrifying woman, Y/N,” he muttered after a beat, voice still rough around the edges.

A quiet laugh slipped out of you, soft and unsteady as you rested your weight against him to steady your breathing. Despite everything, there was something disarmingly comfortable about the closeness— something neither of you ever seemed willing to acknowledge outside of moments like this. “Says the one who gets even bigger while still being inside me.”

Lifting your body just enough to face Jaehyun, your hands on his chest. “What are you? A virgin or a pervert?” Your tone filled with disbelief, finding it amusing how he was still hard. 

A tired, triumphant smirked tugged at the corner of Jaehyun’s mouth. “It’s called being highly responsive to a very particular stimulus, princess.” His head tilted a bit, his eyes softened with a glistening tease. “I thought you like it when you have the upper hand?” 

"I didn't forget it," you said. "I just don't have it." You groaned, finally giving up as you stuffed your keys into your pocket and sat down on the steps that led to your apartment’s front door, letting your head rest in your palms. "I drank too much,” you spoke, your voice muffled. Taesan looked down at you, following suit.

"Does this mean I'm not allowed inside your house?" Taesan asked, his arms propping him up as he leaned back. He sighed, "Man, I really wanted to know what kind of place a hermit like you lived in."

"I am not a hermit."

"Hey," he began, clearing his throat as he sat up. "We just came back from your first college party," Taesan laughed. "This is your second year here and you're— what, twenty?"

"That doesn't make me a hermit," you said, beginning to grow annoyed with him. "What are you even doing here? Shouldn't you be back at that party looking for your next victim?"

Taesan scoffed, "The people I take home are not victims," he said. "They join me willingly." Your head turned to look at him, a disgusted expression forming on your face at the sight of the proud smirk plastered across his face.

You gagged, "That’s gross."

He scoffed again, "Says you."

"Whatever." You sighed, looking away for a moment before glancing back at Taesan, his gaze upward as he watched the streetlight above them flicker. "I mean, you're pretty attractive, you know," you said quietly, almost embarrassed if it wasn’t for the alcohol in your system. "I can see why you get around."

"You make it sound like it's a bad thing.” Taesan’s eyes widened for a moment before he looked back down at his dirty shoes, blowing a raspberry. “I haven't slept with that many people. Most of them fall asleep before I can even get them through the door."

"So you babysit?" you asked seriously. "Is that what you're doing with me? Because I don't have my house key and refuse to sleep with you?"

"No," Taesan spoke, shaking his head. "I'm simply having a conversation with you because I think you're interesting. For an English major, that is."

"Interesting? Ugh, go home." You rolled your eyes, watching him laugh. "Seriously, you might as well. I'll probably end up sleeping out here if my roommate doesn't come home."

"But I like talking to you," he said. "I haven't talked to someone like this in a while."

"Because you make out with them before they can get a word in?" You smiled when you saw the look Taesan was giving you. Not quite offended, but not exactly a fan of your sarcastic comments either. "I’m kidding," you said. "Fine, I'll allow you to join me for a night of sleeping on cold pavement. You'll find it's not as bad as it sounds."

"You've done this before?"

"Oh yeah," you nodded. "You should know I don't bring my key with me very often — just in case you ever want to hang out with me ever again."

"That's fine," he said. "We can always just go to my place." Your eyes narrowed at his words.

"I don't want to sleep with you.”

He rolled his eyes, "That's not what I meant."

Han Taesan found it odd how easy it was to talk to someone he'd only met a couple hours ago. He didn't know why he was talking to you to begin with — perhaps it was the guilt of having spilled his drink all over you, staining the white fabric of your shirt. Maybe it was because you were still wearing his shirt as he sat next to you in a black tank top, the cool autumn breeze slowing beginning to gnaw at his skin the longer he remained outside. Or maybe it was because you were simply so much more interesting than all the other girls he'd met before — girls who only wanted to party and get high, girls with no passion for anything besides winning a game of beer pong. Boring people who relied on the wind to get them to where they wanted to be, but never needed.

Taesan felt that whatever came out of your mouth had a meaning to it, that every word you spoke was important to your character. Whether it was insulting him and his "frowned-upon" ways or admiring him under the October moon.

"What's your favorite song?" you asked, your back on the pavement as you looked up at the night sky. "Like, of all time?"

"Why?"

"A person's favorite song says a lot about them," you said, resting your hands over your stomach. "I really like 'Starting Over'.”

"Okay, and what does that say about you?" Taesan asked, turning his head just enough to get you in his peripheral.

"Probably that I'm a terrible person," you replied, the alcohol beginning to wear off. You laid in silence, waiting for a reply from Taesan until you realized you wouldn't be getting one. Then you sighed quietly. "You don't know this," you began, "but I think I'm a terrible person."

"You don't seem like one," he said.

"But that's because you don't know me," you said, sitting up. You looked at him, waiting for his eyes to meet yours before continuing. "You don't know the things I've done, just like I don't know what you've done — nor do I really care, for that matter. To me, you're just another guy I happened to bump into at a party, just another guy that I let walk me home way too late at night, just another guy that I lied to because I didn’t want to sleep with them.”

"What do you mean 'lied' to?" Taesan asked, his brows furrowing in confusion again.

"Did you really think I'd leave my house without a key?" you asked. "Look, what I'm saying is that despite everything that’s happened tonight, I don't want to get to know you and you don't want to get to know me. We had a nice time, just talking and being beside each other, but it's never going to go anywhere past that point because we'd probably end up hating each other.” You paused, looking into his brown eyes, watching the way they sparkled underneath the dim street lights. “I can feel it."

"I don't think I could hate you," Taesan responded. "Not when you're being so honest to me."

"You will, because guys like you don't like girls like me, and girls like me hate guys like you."

Han Taesan stared at you, finally starting to sober up as he tried to wrap his head around your words. He bit the inside of his cheek, breaking eye contact as he looked down, exhaling. "Let me ask you something."

"What?”

"Why are you so confident that I won't like you?" he asked. "You don't know me either, you know. You don't know what I'm like besides what you've seen in the past couple of hours."

You paused for a moment, thinking, wondering if you should tell the truth or make up another lie. "I think it'd just be easier to live with myself if I didn't know who you were," you said. "I don't want to waste time on someone who only talked to me because they wanted to get laid."

"I already told you that's not why I'm here." Taesan rubbed the side of his face in frustration, sighing. "Do you have, like, a secret agenda against me?" he asked. "Do you hate me already just because I seem like a stereotypical college guy who sleeps with everyone they lay their eyes on? 'Cause if that's the case, that's pretty shallow of you."

"I just don't want to get hurt by you," you said. "Or anyone, for that matter. You've been too nice to me for me to not think you wanted something from me."

"I don't want anything from you," Taesan said exasperatedly. "But if you want me to hate you, then I will. Do you want me to hate you?"

"Not necessarily."

"Then why are we even having this conversation?" Your lips formed a thin line as you avoided Taesan’s eyes. "I don't care if you think you're a bad person. There doesn't have to be anything between us, you know," he said. "We can just be people that know each other and talk sometimes. Some would even call that being friends."

"Do you really want to be my friend?" you asked him, the embarrassment rushing to your face.

"Of course I do. Who wouldn't want to be friends with someone as opinionated as you?" You scoffed and rolled your eyes, causing Taesan to crack a smile. "How about this?" He sat up straight, turning his body to fully face you as he crossed his legs beneath him. "I won't judge you and you won't judge me. We can be friends with no obligations to each other besides just wanting to hang out sometimes."

You looked at him, a look of hesitance visible on your face as you thought about it. Truthfully, you could use someone like Taesan in your life, someone who wouldn't judge you for the way you were, someone you could be yourself around freely. You were already off to a bad start, anyway — how much worse could it possibly get?

"Okay," you agreed. "That works."

"Cool." Taesan held out his pinky.

Your left brow raised. "What's that?"

"Pinky promise," he said. "Come on, don't tell me you've never made a pinky promise before."

"Of course I have. It just seems a bit childish."

"I thought we agreed not to judge each other."

"Right." You sighed, hooking your pinky with Taesan’s, a surprised look crossing your features. "Why's your pinky so cold?"

"I gave you my shirt," he said. "And this tank isn't really doing much to shield me from the wind."

You had forgotten that you were wearing Taesan’s shirt, your own shirt forgotten back at the party. "Oh." You looked down for a moment, using all the brainpower you had left to think of a solution. You then got up, taking your keys out of your pocket again and this time using your real house key to open the front door. You looked back at Taesan, who continued to stare at you until you spoke up. "Aren't you gonna come inside?"

"Am I welcome?" he asked.

"Yeah, friends are welcome."

"Alright then."

Taesan stood up and followed you inside, closing the door behind him. You threw your keys into a white bowl that sat on a table near the entrance, taking your shoes off and kicking them to the side. He did the same, except he set his shoes neatly in the corner. "I'll go change and give you your shirt back," you said, showing Taesan to your room. "You can sleep here, if you want." You paused as you searched your closet for a shirt you could change into, then turned around to look at him. "Just leave before the sun rises."

"Okay," he said, nodding as he took a seat on your bed. "What happens then?”

"We'll both be bombarded with my roommate's questions as to why you're here and sleeping in my room," you said. Taesan lips formed an ‘O’ shape, making a mental note not to sleep in like he usually would. "I'll be right back." You left the room and closed the door behind you, leaving him alone as he examined your room.

Bookshelves full of mostly Russian and Japanese classics — Dostoevsky being the most noticeable. A desk cluttered in loose notebook paper and frosted polaroids — all pictures of sceneries or other people, never of you yourself. A box in the corner filled with aging notebooks, stacked on top of each other, neglected, collecting dust. Another box beside your bed filled with vinyl records, though you only had very few of them. A single pillow on your bed, thrown off to the side, barely used.

You were interesting, to say the least. It was almost as if there was meaning in everything you did, everything you had. Taesan thought back to the conversation you’d had outside, wondering if you had truly meant what you’d said. Were you really that bad of a person, so bad to the point where you felt the need to warn him? He couldn't believe you — no, he didn't want to believe you.

But perhaps there was meaning in that, too.

1. RUNNING IN CIRCLES.

With his brows furrowed in confusion as he sat across from you on your bedroom floor, Han Taesan found it quite difficult to understand your nihilistic beliefs. A bowl of strawberries rested in his lap as his eyes moved back and forth between the loose-leaf papers you’d scattered across the floor and your face, fully concentrated as you tried to explain why “nothing mattered.”

"We live in a materialistic world, Taesan," you spoke, reaching behind you to grab a thick binder with more papers. "It's all about money. Everything in this world revolves around it and it sickens me, the way you all just accept it. We weren't put in this world just to worry about money."

Taesan nodded, still confused. "Okay," he said, popping a strawberry into his mouth. "Then what were we put here to do?"

You snapped and pointed at him, getting up on your knees. "Absolutely nothing!” you said excitedly. "Nothing in this world matters. Not the people you meet, not the clothes you buy or the books you read. Absolutely nothing in this world matters because at the end of the day, we're all gonna die and all the effort we put into caring would go to waste."

Taesan was lost. Perhaps because it was two in the morning and he'd showed up at your doorstep on a whim, his feet dragging him to your place like a moth to a flame. A part of him was slowly starting to regret even stepping outdoors as he sat across from you with a blank look in his eyes. He stared at you, watching the look on your face change from expectant to disappointed. "You're not getting it," you frowned, sitting down on the floor as your shoulders slumped. "Why am I even talking to you about this?"

"To be fair, this was all you," Taesan spoke, his mouth full. "When I knocked on the door, I was not expecting to walk in on you having an existential crisis."

"I'm not having a crisis," you groaned. "I have to finish writing this stupid, stupid knock-off Fight Club essay that's—" You paused, looking at your phone as you checked the time, "—due in fifteen hours. I haven't even gotten past the introduction."

"What possessed you to become an English major?" Taesan asked, his back now on the floor as he stared at the bedroom ceiling, parts of it covered in newspaper. "Like, what part of you thought majoring in English was a good idea? Did it come to you in a dream or something?"

"It's not even that bad." You got off the floor, your arms full of papers as you set them on your desk, a hand running through your hair as you let out another sigh. "I usually don't have trouble bullshitting an essay. I don't know what's gotten to me."

"You're in love with me," Taesan said, eating the last strawberry. "You're in love with me and it's driving you crazy." He looked at you, smiling when he saw the disgusted look on your face.

"See, I knew you were delusional, but not to this extent," you said, your eyes narrowing. "I am not in love with you, Han Taesan. If anything, the utter thought of you repulses me."

He winced. "Ouch."

When Han Taesan suggested you be friends, you took it as a challenge. From the moment he'd walked into your bedroom that oddly chilly October night, you had made it your mission to make him realize that you were not worthy of friendship — at least not his. It was self-destructive of you, but you were determined to prove your point, which was that you were not as good of a person as Taesan believed you to be.

However, you seemed to be off to a terrible start.

In the past two months, Taesan had developed nothing but adoration towards you. You felt it in the way he looked at you when she spoke of how much of an idiot the guy in your psychology class, Woonhak, was. You felt it in the way he inched closer to you whenever you sat next to each other, his gaze always focused on the side of your face as you spoke, never really looking at him though your words were directed towards him. And you felt it in his actions, the way he offered to share an earbud with you whenever you rode the bus together, the way he always walked a step behind you, the way he always offered his jacket whenever you happened to mention that it was too cold outside.

At this point, you felt he'd probably fall in love with you first before he managed to hate you, and that was perhaps the thing you feared the most — because the last thing you needed was for Han Taesan to be in love with you.

"So what are you doing over the break?" Taesan asked, sitting up. "Are you going home or...?"

"Or what?"

"Or staying here?"

You side-eyed him, then went back to organizing your papers. "Why would I go home?" you asked, more to yourself than to him. "My parents don't want me home unless there's a ring on my finger and some guy clinging to my arm." You scoffed at the thought of them, shaking your head lightly. "They want me to get married more than they want me to get a degree. Stupid."

"You could always just get your degree and then get married," he spoke, yawning afterward.

"I just don't want to get married," you said. "Seeing how it's turning out for them, it just seems like such a waste."

"Why, because nothing matters?" Taesan joked.

"Because why would I put years of effort into a relationship that's bound to fall apart?"

It was almost a one-sided conversation whenever Taesan spoke to you — as if you wanted to have the last word in, as if everything he had to say was worthless because you always had you own beliefs that you stuck to like glue. He stared at you, watching you run a hand through you hair, then pinching the bridge of your nose. "But that's only if you meet the wrong person," Taesan spoke.

"That's not it," you said, getting off the floor and moving to sit down on your bed, crossing your legs. "I'm sure there's a person out there waiting for me like everyone else says, and I'm sure they're great, but it'd be such a waste of time."

Taesan knew where this was going. "Because you're such a terrible person? Even when everyone around you keeps telling you you're not?"

"Exactly. They don't want this," you said, gesturing toward yourself. "You don't want this, yet you stick around. But it doesn't matter, because one day you're gonna wake up and realize all the time you spent with me was a waste."

"That's stupid." Taesan laid back down, crossing his arms under his head. "I would've left you alone already if I didn't want to be with you."

"I don't know why you haven't."

"Because I like you." He paused, thinking carefully about his next words. "As a person. Even if you think everyone is out to get you all the time."

You sighed. This game you were playing, this one-sided game to get Han Taesan to hate you — you were losing, like he was dodging every one of your attacks. You felt you were running in circles around him, like you weren’t getting anywhere. No matter how hard you tried, there was not a single moment in your friendship where Taesan was even close to hating you. You knew it and you hated it. You hated it because instead of feeling as unloved and despised as you’d wanted to (to prove your point), you had never felt more warmth in your heart.

It was almost as if Han Taesan purposely went out of his way to make you feel loved, just to spite you.

Or perhaps, he truly believed it was simply something you were worthy of feeling.

"Are you sleeping here tonight?" you asked, changing the topic. "Do I have to lend you my one and only pillow again?"

Taesan snorted, "You don't even use that pillow," he said. "I've probably used it more in the last two months than you have since you bought it." He turned his head to the side, his eyes meeting yours, "We can share, if you want."

"Pfft," you laughed. "Are you suggesting we sleep in the same bed?"

"Your floor is cold!" Taesan argued. "Plus, my back hurts. I can never get comfortable."

"No one's forcing you to sleep over," you said. "You can always just go home."

"Nah." He shook his head, "I like sleeping in your room," he said. Then he paused, his eyes now focused on the ceiling above him. "I like being close to you, you know?"

You knew. As much as you hated to admit it, as much as it pained you to, you knew. But that wasn't even the worst part. The worst past was that you liked being with him too, and the utter thought of it, the simple idea of wanting to be close to him despite all your efforts to push that feeling away — it made you feel as if your heartstrings were being tugged violently. So violently, you felt the tubes would be ripped out if they pulled hard enough.

"Sure," you said, looking at him with your tired eyes, letting out a quiet sigh. "Okay. You can sleep on my bed."

Taesan shot up, his once closed eyes now open wide and he looked at you. "Really?" he asked. "Just like that?"

"Yeah." You had already moved to get under the covers, your back facing Taesan as you spoke to him. "You can have my pillow, just turn off the light. Please."

Despite it being far from the first time Taesan had slept in someone’s bed, he was nervous. He laid there on his back, staring straight up at the ceiling with a gap between your bodies, keeping his distance, afraid that he was crossing a line. You never said anything, to which he figured you’d just fallen asleep, deciding to give up on your essay for the night and worry about it in the morning.

But you couldn't sleep that night, the thought of Han Taesan sleeping in your bed eating at you as your thoughts ran wild, your heart beating so fast you could hear its loud thumping in your ears. So what if he's in my bed? you thought. We're not doing anything. Ever. I'd rather die.

And part of it was true. Why would you ruin a perfectly good thing you had going out of your own selfishness? Well, you did a lot of things as a result of your selfishness — like trying to convince Taesan that you weren’t worth his time.

The thing was, a part of you was slowly starting to accept the fact that perhaps that wasn't true. Perhaps you weren’t as bad of a person as you’d previously believed, and nothing scared you more than coming to terms with a belief that wasn't your own.

2. A FRIENDSHIP WORTHWHILE.

Han Taesan was not in love with you. He did not listen to every word you spoke as if it were the most important thing he'd ever heard because he liked you, but simply because there was no other sound to listen to. His eyes did not linger on the side of your face when you averted your gaze, focusing on something else as you spoke to him, because he liked you, but because there was simply nothing else to look at. He did not look for you in a sea of people he happened to know, his eyes scanning every person that walked out of the library near your campus as the time neared midnight because he liked you, but because there was no one else he could possibly be looking for.

Han Taesan was not in love with you, but if he were, he wouldn't necessarily be against it.

See, Taesan’s had his fair share of people, all to which he would consider interesting — in their own, unique way. But when it came to you, all he could really think about was how opposed you were to being his friend, how you wanted nothing to do with him after that night you spent talking on your doorstep. Perhaps it was because no one had ever denied liking him before, always giving him what he wanted without him having to ask for it. Or perhaps it was the thrill of chasing after someone for once, the adrenaline kicking in whenever your eyes met, his heart racing so fast he felt it'd jump right out of his chest.

A part of him still believed you didn't care much about him, that you let him stick around because you had no other way to waste time, because he just happened to be the best option for a distraction. And even if it was true — even if you really did hate him — it wouldn't change the fact that Han Taesan was drawn to you like a magnet.

"I've already seen this movie," you mumbled, your eyes glued to your laptop screen as you scrolled through your Netflix account, searching for a movie to watch. You were sitting in a corner in the library, surrounded by shelves of Spanish literature. You were supposed to be studying for your midterm, but decided to push it back another day in the end. Taesan was seated beside you, the earbuds connected to her laptop in his ear as he shared with you, listening to the trailers before they were cut off by your impatient scrolling. You huffed, "Nothing's good here. I've already seen most of these."

Taesan really had no business being in the library so late at night, considering he had no pending exams and was extremely tired, but there he was — to no one's surprise really. He side-eyed you, his eyes returning to your laptop screen. "Shouldn't that be a sign to study?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It's a sign that Netflix's collection is shit," you said, leaning back in your chair. "Should I just rewatch Warm Bodies? Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Do what you want," Taesan said. "I haven't seen it anyway."

You paused, turning to look at the guy beside you slowly. "You haven't seen Warm Bodies?" you repeated. "Really? The zombie movie where the zombie falls in love with a human after eating her boyfriend's brain? You haven't seen it?!”

A concerned look appeared on his face. "That's the kind of stuff you watch?" he asked. "Should I be worried?"

"Taesan," you started, turning your whole body to face him. "The only thing you should be worried about is your mind being blown after we watch the best zombie-romance movie that has ever — and I mean ever — been released."

"Someone's excited."

"For good reason!" you exclaimed. "It's a masterpiece. Watch." You closed out of the tab and opened up your Files folder. "I even have it downloaded to my laptop. That's how good it is."

Taesan had never really paid attention to movies. He found most of them to be boring, but that was probably because he didn't know much about them anyway. He didn't pay attention to the details in the cinematography, the foreshadowing to events that would happen in the future — stuff like that. It all bored him, but watching that movie as he sat beside you, who was probably on your millionth rewatch considering you were mumbling the script the entire time, he felt the need to pay attention, to become as invested as you were.

Han Taesan had this really bad habit of making himself like whatever you liked, simply because he believed maybe you’d like him a little more. Maybe, if he agreed with your political views and enjoyed the same movies that you did, you would realize that being friends with him was worthwhile.

Maybe you’d finally realize that Taesan stuck around because he simply wanted to.

"Where do you see yourself in ten years?" you asked, walking beside Taesan. He had fallen behind a couple of steps, his eyes focused upward toward the dark night sky. You turned around, walking backward. "Like, what do you think you'll be doing in the future?"

"Hm," Taesan hummed, his hands behind his back as he walked. "Don't know," he said. "Definitely not here. I think I'd be traveling, maybe finally visiting Europe like I intend to."

"What's in Europe?"

"Italy, Monaco, Ireland, Germany, Netherlan—"

"Not that," you laughed. "I know what countries are in Europe. What I meant was what d’you think is waiting for you there?"

"Hot chicks and nude beaches." you scoffed and turned back around, a smile growing on Taesan’s face as he laughed loudly. "What, is that not what you wanted to hear?"

You shook your head in disapproval, "I can't even look at you right now."

"I thought we weren't gonna judge each other." Taesan’s pace increased as he finally caught up with you, finding your reaction amusing. "Fine," he said. "What do you want me to say?"

"It's not what I want you to say," you replied. "It's what you actually think you'd have done with your life at the time." You paused, waiting for a response from him, then continued when you realized you wouldn't receive one. "If it helps, I don't know what I'll be doing in ten years," you said quietly, as if afraid to admit it.

"Then why'd you ask me?"

"Because I figured at least you'd have a plan." You stopped at a light, pushing the button to cross and waiting. You turned to look at Taesan, "As much as I like to make fun of you, you're probably more prepared when it comes to the future than I am," you said, "and I don't know how I feel about that."

Taesan exhaled, watching as his breath turned white in front of him due to the cold temperatures. "You can figure it out as you go," he said in an attempt to comfort you. "You don't have to have everything figured out yet. God knows I don't."

"Yeah." You nodded, walking forward as the light signaled to them that they could cross the street. "I guess you're right."

In all honesty, Han Taesan had an idea of what his future looked like. He'd probably be traveling like he told you before, staying at five star hotels (because his parents would never even consider anything less) and eating at Michelin star restaurants. He imagined himself alone most of the time, occasionally accompanied by someone he'd met along the way, only to end up alone again as he traveled to another country. Before, he would've considered it to something worth waiting for, a future many would envy him for. But now, he felt there was something wrong with it, as if there was something he was missing — though he wasn't quite sure what it was. All he knew now was that he didn't want to live a life like that.

Not unless it was with you.

"I won't stay long," Taesan said as you pulled out your keys, unlocking your front door. "Your roommate's probably sick of seeing me every morning."

"Minju doesn't mind," you said. "In fact, I think she has a little crush on you. Probably because you're always wearing those stupid tank tops, showing off your big arms all the time." You opened the door for Taesan to step inside. "Plus, you live another ten minutes away and it's cold outside. I don't want you to freeze to death."

"I thought that was exactly what you wanted," he joked, watching you roll your eyes. He walked in and closed the door behind him, smiling to himself. "Wait, you think my arms are big?" he asked, taking his shoes off. "Was that a compliment?"

"You're getting way too ahead of yourself," you said. "Don't make me kick you out."

"I don't think Minju would let you anyway."

"You're insufferable." You took off your jacket, hanging it on the coatrack near the front door as you made your way toward the kitchen, turning the light on and pouring herself a glass of water. Taesan followed after you, leaning against the counter as he stood beside you. "I don't know how I put up with you."

"Probably because you're in love with me?"

"Stop saying that," you laughed, punching his arm. "I'm not in love with you, Han Taesan. And if I were, I think I'd kill myself."

"That's harsh," he said, scoffing. "You're always so opposed to the idea — what's so wrong with being in love with me anyway?" Though he was half joking, Taesan waited for a response from you as you thought about your words carefully, a part of you wondering if you should even respond.

"There's nothing wrong with it," you said, refusing to look at him despite Taesan waiting for your eyes to meet his. "I just don't think I'd ever want to be." You paused, sighing, your next words quiet. "I couldn't live with myself if I were."

Taesan went home at around four in the morning that day, even after you told him he was more than welcome to stay over. Still, as much as he truly wanted to, he decided against it, thinking back on what you’d told him in the kitchen. His thoughts ran wild as he walked home that night, a sudden wave of confusion washing over him. What did you mean, you’d never want to be in love with him? Why? Was he simply not desirable in your eyes? Or was it because he just wasn't as interesting as you thought he'd be? Even as he laid in his own bed that morning, he couldn't help but feel that perhaps your words were a bit too mean because you meant something else.

Han Taesan found it hard to believe that you didn't love him. Sure, perhaps he was getting ahead of himself, reading too much into your friendship, but it simply wasn't possible in his eyes. You’d shared so many vulnerable and intimate moments with each other in the short time you’d been friends — hell, you’d already met his parents, seen his childhood home, met his friends. Taesan had let you into his life the moment he laid eyes on you, so why hadn't you done the same?

Why did you refuse to open yourself up for him? Perhaps out of fear of what he'd do with you, fear that he'd abandon you like the people before him and those yet to come. Whatever it was, he couldn't quite find a reason why you didn't keep him as close to your heart and he kept you, and maybe that was the difference between you two. But no matter how many times you would draw the line between you, separating yourself from him, Taesan would always find himself a step too close, holding onto the hope that one day, you would let him in.

Han Taesan was not in love with you — but the thing about Taesan was that he had a tendency of becoming too attached to people who didn't want him, even if he ended up getting hurt in the process.

3. WHERE YOU WANT ME

There was hesitation in your steps as you contemplated knocking on Taesan’s front door. A sense of fear had overwhelmed you, though you were unsure as to why you felt that why. Perhaps it was because you were afraid of what was waiting for you beyond that door, the loud sounds of modern rap music blasting through the walls, the inescapable warmth of drunk bodies pressed against each other already evident before you even walked inside.

"Come on," Minju spoke up, snapping you out of your thoughts as she stood behind you impatiently. "Are you really thinking about going home? Now?"

"If you think about it, we both have midterms in a couple of days," you said, trying to come up with an excuse. "Plus, what good would walking home drunk do if it's literally 49 degrees outside?"

"And that's exactly why we should go inside! It's so cold." Minju reached around your frame, attempting to grab the doorknob, though she was stopped by your hand. Minju groaned, "What, Y/N? What now?"

"I just—" You struggled to find words to explain your actions. You’d never been so nervous about going to a party before — in fact, you were usually the one that suggested it — so why were you suddenly nervous now? Why did going inside sound so much worse than standing outside in almost freezing temperatures?

Why did attending Han Taesan’s party sound like a terrible idea?

Minju stared at you, waiting for a response with an annoyed look plastered all over her face. "Listen," she started, desperate to go inside. "I've always been supportive of what you want to do, Y/N, because I love you and you're my friend but right now, my legs are about to freeze in place. If I don't have a shot in my hand in the next five minutes, so help me God, I will change the locks on you."

"That's so mean," you frowned. "How could you say that?"

"Is that enough motivation to make you go inside?"

You felt out of place, as if everyone's eyes were drawn to you, judging you, ripping you open. It felt so wrong, being in a place where no one knew who you were, where no one bothered to find out who you were. You hated it, this feeling of intimidation you’d gotten as you tried to push your way through people, searching for the bathroom. But it seemed every corner of Taesan’s apartment was overflowing with people, and it felt so suffocating — to the point where you felt you were going to throw up.

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder, causing you to jolt. You turned around, defensively, only to come face to face with Han Taesan himself, your previous anxiety slowly beginning to settle. "Where've you been?" he asked, unaware that you were on the verge of a panic attack just a couple seconds ago. "I've been searching everywhere for you and Minju didn't know where y—"

"I think I need to go home," you cut him off, your eyes wandering frantically from one side of the room to the other. "I don't—" You took a deep breath, struggling. "I don't feel good and if I stay, I'll just feel even worse."

Taesan looked at you, concerned. He was fairly tipsy, perhaps already drunk — you could see it in the way he took a couple seconds longer to respond, his brain moving slower than usual. "You need to go home?" he repeated, still processing your words. His voice was loud, trying to speak over the music. "But you just got here. I haven't seen you in a week."

To be clear, you had been avoiding Taesan for the past week, afraid that he'd distract you from preparing for midterms any more than you already were. But it seemed that forcing yourself to stay away from Taesan only did more damage, considering you’d barely gotten anything done. Still, you would never admit that to him — especially not now that he was right in front of you.

You felt bad, the way his smile turned so quickly into a frown, the way he was so happy to see you just for you to leave the moment he found you. But if you stayed any longer, you felt you’d explode.

Before you could say anything, Taesan grabbed her wrist, dragging you through the crowds of people and around a corner, walking down the hallway to his room. He'd locked the door, now struggling to unlock it with his key, his eyes sleepy. But he was determined to get in, eventually fitting the key in the hole, pushing the door open as he gestured for you to go inside. You looked at him, and Taesan finally realized what it looked like he was doing. "Don't worry, I won't do anything," he laughed.

Once they were inside, Taesan closed the door behind him, sighing as he ran a hand through his hair. "You can sit wherever," he said, waving his hand around. "Just— give me a moment."

You sat cross-legged on Taesan’s bed, your breathing leveling out as you watched him stand in the corner of his room, trying to sober up. You didn't know if it was simply because he already felt hungover or because he couldn't stand to keep you company while under the influence. You heard him take in a couple of deep breaths before he walked across the room and grabbed a water bottle that he'd left on his desk, drinking it. "Okay," he said, sitting down in his chair. "What's wrong?"

"I think there's just something wrong with me," you spoke quietly despite the loud noises from outside bleeding through the walls. "You know, I usually don't turn down an invitation to a party," you started, "but today I just felt so..." You struggled to find the words again, beginning to get frustrated with yourself. "I felt like every bad thing that could possibly happen to me would happen tonight."

"You could've just stayed home," Taesan said. His arms were crossed over his chest as he looked at you, who seemed to be avoiding him still. "I would've understood."

"But then I'd feel even more terrible."

"Because I was the one throwing a party this time?"

"Exactly."

"Y/N," he started, leaning forward. "Look at me." Taesan waited for you head to turn and your eyes to meet his before continuing. "I don't care about this party," he spoke softly. "Leehan’s the one that wanted to throw it because I passed a midterm or whatever, not me. If I had any say in what I did to 'celebrate', I probably would've just spent it trying to get you out of your room again." He was smiling as he spoke to you, but you couldn't find it in you to reciprocate his smile. "And if that didn't work, then I would've spent it watching all those movies you told me to watch."

"That's so boring," you mumbled. "Why would you want to celebrate that with me?"

"Because I think you're nice," he said. "You always have something to say, even if we don't agree sometimes. If you let me, I'd probably follow you everywhere. I'd go wherever you wanted me to."

You chuckled, "You already do."

"Exactly." A comfortable silence fell between you, both running out of things to talk about. You didn't know if you should explain yourself — why you refused to see Taesan the past week, which as a result only made you a bit more miserable — but he was already a step ahead, clearing his throat before he spoke. "Why did you avoid me?" Taesan asked, leaning back in his chair.

You sighed. "To be honest, I don't know," you said. "I just thought maybe if I didn't have you around for a while, I'd be able to focus."

"Did it work?"

You wanted to tell him the truth, how not having Taesan around to keep you company made you feel as if a part of you was missing, that not being able to talk to him was killing you, slowly eating you alive. You wanted to tell him that his absence only made you more anxious, more paranoid than you’d ever been in your entire life. Perhaps it was because you’d gotten so used to having him around the past couple of months, so used to him reassuring you that you were, in fact, a better person than you believed yourself to be. Without him, it was like being stripped naked, all of your insecurities and thoughts that kept poking at the back of your brain on full display for the entire world to see. You felt so vulnerable, it made you sick.

But you didn't tell him that. The words were caught in the back of your throat and you feared if they somehow did manage to roll off your tongue, you wouldn't be able to face him anymore.

"Hm," you hummed, thinking. "It just wasn't... ideal. It would've been nice to have a distraction from time to time. You know, like a little break."

"So you're telling me you didn't miss me at all?" Taesan’s eyes widened slightly, his tone expectant, a part of him hoping that you did, in fact, miss him — because God knows he missed you terribly. "Not even a bit?"

"If you had been there, I wouldn't have minded," you said, an indirect response to a simple yes-or-no question.

Taesan nodded, humming as he stood up from his chair and grabbed the nearest jacket, putting his arms through the sleeves. "Okay," he said, zipping it up halfway.

"Are you going somewhere?" you asked, sitting up straight.

"I'm taking you home," he replied, waiting for you to stand up. "I'd let you take my room, but I don't think it'll be quieting down anytime soon."

Right. You had forgotten that there was a party going on, on the other side of the wall, music and people so loud you felt your head start to ache once again. "Okay." You moved towards the end of the bed and stood up, fixing your jacket that'd exposed her shoulder. You looked up, noticing that Taesan had been staring at you. "What?"

"So scandalous," he joked, pointing at your shoulder. "Can't have you walking around like that. Who knows what would happen?”

"Haha, so funny. Let's go."

You couldn't quite describe it, but there was something about having Taesan around that put your mind at ease. Even as he dragged you through the crowd of people once again, there was not an anxious muscle in your body. Perhaps because you knew Taesan’s grip on your wrist wouldn't be loosening anytime soon, reassuring you that he was with you no matter what.

Just as he was about to open the door, a voice called him. "Taesan!" You turned around with him, watching a wasted Leehan stumble towards them with a red cup in his hand. Once he reached them, he used Taesan’s arm as a balance. "You're leaving your own party? I put so much effort into it."

Taesan chuckled. "Just getting some air," he said. "I'm taking Y/N home."

Leehan’s eyes moved from Taesan’s to yours, who he now realized was the person standing beside his roommate. "I thought you weren't here," he slurred. "Your roommate's wasted over th—"

"She'll manage," you cut him off, still upset with Minju’s words from before. "She usually does."

"Okay." Leehan turned his attention back to Taesan, his eyes struggling to focus. "You better come back tonight," he said.

"I can't promise you anything," Taesan smiled, opening the door as he gestured for you to go outside. "See you later, Han."

Before Leehan could get another word in, Taesan closed the door, instantly closing his eyes as the cold began to gnaw at his exposed face. "Home?" he asked you, walking down the steps that led to the front door.

"Yeah," you said, walking beside him. "You're welcome to stay if you want, but you're probably rushing to get back to your party, right?"

"Not really," Taesan spoke, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "It wasn't fun without you."

You hummed, a shiver running down your spine. There were many times during your walk home that you considered telling him the truth, maybe finally deciding to open yourself fully to Taesan instead of running in circles around him. But what was the point? You were just friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

And still, you couldn't help but wonder sometimes what things would've been like if you’d been more than that.

4. MISS YOU MORE

Kim Leehan does not understand Han Taesan as well as he wished he did.

They'd been friends for years, inseparable to the point where most places they went to were together, most decisions they made were made together. If Taesan wasn't there, Leehan wasn't there either, which is why Leehan found it strange the day Taesan turned down a day of clubbing to hang out with a person he'd only met a couple months ago.

"What do you mean 'no'?" Leehan repeated, looking up from his phone as he sat on the couch, watching as Taesan struggled to find his shoes. "You never say no to the club."

"I have plans," Taesan spoke, kneeling on all fours as he checked under the couch for his shoes, a groan leaving his mouth when he was met with nothing. "You can go with Sungho, or Riwoo." He nodded, "Yeah, go with Riwoo. He's better at taking care of himself if he gets shitfaced."

"I don't want to go with him," Leehan scoffed. "We literally planned this last month. You said yes then!"

"That was because I didn't have anything better to do then," Taesan said, yelling from his room. He sighed in relief when he found his shoes behind his door, picking them up with one hand as he walked back to where Leehan sat, the latter still shocked. "And now I do."

"Your idea of 'something better to do' is to pine after someone who already told you they weren’t interested?" Leehan’s brow raised as he watched the corners of Taesan’s mouth twitch, unhappy with his words. "Just accept that someone doesn't want to sleep with you for once."

"I'm not pining," Taesan said, putting on his jacket. "We're friends." And though it was true, it hurt him to say those words aloud — almost like a part of him wished they were more than that.

"Yeah, so are we."

"Why are you being difficult?" Taesan asked, setting his shoes down as he looked at Leehan, annoyed. "You've never cared before. Why now?"

Leehan wondered if it was a good idea to tell Taesan that he hated you and your stupid self-destructive habits. He thought about it, whether he should tell him that being friends with someone who hated themselves was only going to end up harming him in the process — that Taesan was going to regret having proposed the idea of being friends with you in the first place. But he didn't say anything. Instead, he just looked away, thinking of an excuse that his friend would rather hear.

"You can't even think of anything," Taesan mumbled, scoffing as he sat on the floor near the entrance, tying his shoes. "Whatever. I'll see you later, Han."

"Later being tomorrow?" Leehan asked provokingly. "You might as well just move in with them at this point."

"You're so petty," Taesan said, grabbing his key as he opened the front door. "See you."

It was never Leehan’s intention to argue with Taesan — in fact, that was the last thing he wanted. He just wanted his friend to realize that nothing good awaited him if he was going to spend most of his time chasing after someone who couldn't figure out what they wanted. He wanted him to realize that he was just wasting his time.

Frankly, Han Taesan didn't care.

"I can't believe you're spending New Year's here instead of at the club," you said as you stood in front of the stove in your kitchen, boiling water in a kettle. "That's so boring."

"It's actually a lot better than you think." Taesan was seated at the table, watching you from behind as he fidgeted with his fingers. "I don't really like clubbing that much anyway."

"I remember you told me that was all you'd do on the weekends," you spoke, glancing over your shoulder to see if you’d caught him in a lie. "Isn't that, like, what you live for?"

"That was the old Taesan," he said. "The new Taesan likes spending time with you." He paused for a moment, then chuckled. "Even if we never leave the house."

"It's too cold to do anything outside!" you replied, annoyed at how pleased Taesan was with your reaction, your eye twitching when you heard him start laughing. "If you'd met me in the summer, I would've been the funnest person to be around."

"That is so not true." Taesan turned around at the sound of Minju’s voice. She was standing behind him in a sweater and pajama pants, her arms crossed over her chest as she looked at you, framing you as a liar. Her eyes then moved to look at Taesan, smiling as she whispered, "Don't believe them. They’re even more of a shut-in when it's summer."

"Why are you even here?" you asked, turning off the stove when the kettle went off. You turned around and looked at her, suddenly bothered by how close she was to Taesan. "I thought you were going out for dinner."

"Change of plans," Minju said, still looking at Taesan.

You knew that Minju had cancelled her plans the moment you mentioned that Taesan would be coming over. See, as time passed, Minju’s crush on your friend only seemed to grow. Normally, you wouldn't have minded — you were just friends, after all. But seeing how your roommate practically threw herself at Taesan, not even trying to hide the fact that she might already be in love with him — it made you feel weird, your stomach turning, the need to peel her off him growing.

You listened to their conversation as you poured the water from the kettle into a mug, mixing in three spoons of coffee mix. You listened, your eye twitching as you stood by the counter, pretending not to care when Minju asked Taesan about his love life, how many partners he'd had, if he happened to be available — "for a friend," she said.

"No," he said, glancing at you who seemed to be muttering curses under your breath directed to Minju. "At least I don't think so? It's complicated."

"What do you mean 'complicated'?" Minju moved back, her eyes narrowing as she questioned him. "You either have one or you don't."

"It's just complicated," he said with a thin-lipped smile. "Tell your friend I'm not available."

You couldn't help but stare at Taesan later that night as he laid on your bed, his eyes focused on counting the glow-in-the-dark stars you’d placed there your freshman year. You sat at your desk as he talked, his mouth moving as words with no meaning spilled out, but you couldn't hear him, too caught up in your own thoughts to even make an effort to comprehend him, thinking about what he'd said to Minju before. Why wouldn't he be available? you thought, your leg bouncing as you spaced out. He doesn't have a girlfriend, and he's not talking to anyone either. What's "complicated"?

"Wouldn't that be nice?" Taesan asked, more to himself than to you. You blinked, Taesan’s words finally heard on your end. "Maybe I will go."

"Go where?" you asked, confused.

"Osaka," he said, "eventually. I heard it's nice."

You looked at him, watching as he sat up on his forearms and looked back at you, holding your gaze. It seemed that was how you spent most of your time these days, looking at each other without physically exchanging any words — but there was always something being spoken between you. Perhaps in the way you looked at each other, Taesan’s eyes soft and filled with a slight hint of longing, while yours gave off a frantic, confused message, almost as if you were trying to figure out what you wanted. "You should go, then," you finally spoke, quietly. Your fingers picked at your cuticles, your eyes remaining on his. "The pictures I've seen are always pretty."

"Would you come with me?" Taesan asked, sitting up straight, his legs crossed.

You chuckled, your eyes darting to the other end of the room, continuing to pick at your cuticles. "Why? I don't have any business there."

"I know," Taesan spoke, still looking at you even though you’d already looked away. "But I think I'd miss you too much."

Blood spewed from your cuticles as you peeled the skin too far back, your jaw clenching at the sudden sharp pain. You paused, bringing your finger to your mouth as you sucked on the blood, Taesan’s words repeating themselves over and over again in your head. Miss me? A part of you wanted to deny it, deny the fact that Taesan’s attachment to you only seemed to grow stronger the longer he spent staring at you from your bed, the more time you spent in the same space, the more your eyes remained locked on each other's. But you knew that denying it would only make things worse — more so for you than for him.

See, you would never admit it — you’d rather die than admit it — but you could no longer stand the idea of a day where Han Taesan was not with you. They'd only become unbearable, and telling him that would only feed his ego, you believed, and imply that you wanted something more than friendship, despite telling him otherwise. But now, as time only seemed to move faster, the new year only a few minutes away, you didn't know what you wanted. You didn't know if you wanted to keep playing this game of back and forth with Taesan, the game that would eventually decide your friendship. The idea of him was desirable, to the point where you’d thought about being something more, a relationship with meaning. But was that truly the best case? Was that really what you wanted? It was hard to tell, but what you did know was that the day Han Taesan left, you’d miss him terribly.

"I think I'd miss you more," you mumbled, though your words reached Taesan’s ears, turning red. "I like having you around. Sometimes."

Taesan found it hard to sleep that night, the sound of fireworks going off outside not nearly as loud as the thoughts running wild through his head, wondering what you meant with your words. He couldn't bring himself to ask you, even though he knew you were awake beside him, your back facing him. Even if he had asked, you probably wouldn't have told him, perhaps afraid that you’d contradict herself, afraid that you’d broken the set of rules you set for herself. But Taesan didn't care about your rules or standards or whatever you wanted to call it.

He cared about you, whether you liked it or not.

5. SOMETHING ELSE.

You write to Han Taesan sometimes, despite having his number saved to your phone. Perhaps it was the appreciation you’d grown for them after studying literature, but there was something about writing a letter that made your words feel deeper, much more intimate, than they would've been through a text message.

You’d be lying if you’d said that you didn't miss him sleeping over, his presence beside you as he laid in your bed, sometimes talking about everything and nothing as you tried to fall asleep. It was strange, the way he'd left, his goodbye hurried and indirect as he stood on your doorstep after walking you home from class, refusing your invitation to come inside.

"Leaving?" you asked, brows furrowing. "To Osaka? I thought that was in the summer." There was a hint of disappointment in your voice, as if you wished he wouldn't leave at all.

"It's just something I need to do," Taesan spoke, shoving his hands into his pockets as a cold breeze blew past you, your hair moving with the wind and you reached your hand up to your face to move the strands away. "Maybe I'll find what I'm looking for there."

"What are you looking for?"

"A future."

You stared at him, the disappointment in your eyes shifting to a sort of sadness as you remembered the conversation you’d had last December. Your eyes glossed over, but you couldn't tell if it was from the gnawing cold or Taesan’s words. "I didn't mean for you to take that seriously," you said, turning to fully face him and shutting the slightly ajar front door. "You said it yourself. We don't have to have everything figured out now."

Taesan let out a breath, shivering. "I know," he said. "But I've gotten to the point where I no longer want to be doing nothing with my life, Y/N." He paused, sniffling. "I'm scared that I'll still be doing nothing by the time I'm thirty, just wasting time like I'm doing now."

"You think hanging out with me is a waste of time?" Your voice was quiet and somewhat hurt, almost as if you didn't mean for those words to get out. You kept looking at him, waiting for an answer, watching his gaze soften as he thought about how to respond — something that wouldn't hurt your feelings, something to let you down slowly.

"Of course not," he said. "That's not what I meant. You of all people know how much you mean to me. You're my best friend."

"Then what did you mean?"

He sighed. It was obvious to you that he didn't really want to tell you the truth, just an excuse that you’d accept. But despite that, Taesan could never find it in himself to lie to you, even when he wanted to the most. "There's meaning in everything you do," he said. "And I envy that about you."

"There's nothing to envy," you said with a chuckle, half in disbelief. "I'm a trainwreck. You know that."

"Yeah," Taesan said. "But I just think that the longer I stay here, following after you as you search for your own future and figure it out, the more I wish I had a clearer view of mine."

Han Taesan left for Osaka in February, almost a month ago. You hadn't heard much from him, just a couple postcards sent to your address here and there. He was never much of a writer, so you never expected to receive an answer to any of the four letters you’d sent so far. And though you tried not to think about it, you can't help but feel that he'd forgotten about you while searching for something else, something more — something that wasn't where you were.

You sighed as you set your pen down, leaning back in your seat. You were seated in a coffee shop, waiting for Minju to finish her shift so you could walk home together. You’d been writing your next letter to pass the time, but words seemed to fail you. All you could think about was how terribly you missed Han Taesan’s voice, how he'd probably be making fun of you in that moment for thinking too hard about what to say to him. You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply, then exhaling as you tried to remember your friend's voice, haunting you. He's doing it on purpose, you thought. He wants me to miss him.

"Excuse me?"

Your eyes opened, instantly meeting a man's softer, warmer gaze. You sat up, your eyes widening slightly as you watched the male smile politely. "Sorry to bother you," he spoke, his right hand playing with the strap of his backpack. "I just wanted to know if I could sit here for a moment." He gestured to the seat across from you.

"Oh, sure." You scrambled to clear your things from the table, shoving the unfinished letter into your bag. "Sorry about that."

"No, I'm sorry," he said, taking a seat. "I didn't want to bother you because you looked like you were sleeping, but every other seat is taken."

"It's alright," you said, waving him off. "I wasn't sleeping. Just thinking."

"Writing?" A smile rested on his face as he watched your expression turn confused. "Sorry, I read some of what you wrote on that paper."

"Oh." You looked down at your bag, realizing you’d crumbled the letter up. You laughed, rubbing the side of your face as you turned back to look at the guy sitting in front of you. "Was it any good at least?”

He nodded, approvingly. "I think it's the best thing I've read in a while," he said. "Was it a letter?"

"To my friend," you replied, sighing. "I don't think I'll send it, though. He never responds anyway."

"Really? How could he not?" The male had a surprised look on his face, almost offended for you. "You write well. If anything, he's probably just thinking of how to respond to such a good letter."

You hummed, leaning forward a bit. "I'm sorry, but are you a critic?" you asked, jokingly. You watched his ears turn red in embarrassment, his eyes now looking at the floor beneath his feet. You cleared your throat, stretching your hand out towards him. "I'm Y/N, by the way."

The male looked up, taking your hand in his. "Shinyu," he spoke, shaking your hand. "Have we met before? You look familiar."

You let go of his hand, thinking. "Maybe," you said. "Or I might just have one of those faces."

"Perhaps." Shinyu looked away at the sound of his name being called by the barista behind the counter, standing up. He looked back at you, smiling. "It was nice to meet you. See you around?"

You nodded, reciprocating his smile. "I'll see you." You watched as Shinyu gave you a little wave, walking up to the counter and quietly thanking the barista as he took his drink, then left. Your eyes lingered on the spot where he'd sat across from you, wondering if you had ever ran into him in the past, crossing each other's paths without ever noticing.

"Who was that?"

You looked up at Minju, the smell of coffee strong on her clothes as she took off her apron, signaling she was done with her shift. She looked at you questioningly, curious about the boy you were previously talking to. "Oh," you started. "Shinyu. He's nice. Are you done?"

Minju nodded, taking a step back as you collected your things and stood up, pushing in your chair. "You know him?" she asked as you made your way to the door together, a bell ringing as you opened it and left.

"Not really," you responded. "We just met."

"He's cute," Minju said, her eyes lighting up. She then clung to your arm playfully, smiling while you looked at her annoyed. "If you ever get his number, send it my way."

"What happened to your crush on Taesan?" you asked, trying to shake her off and failing. Eventually, you gave up, letting Minju have her way. "I thought he was 'the one'."

"He's bad at texting," Minju said, sighing. "I wish he was the one, but he's so clearly not interested and I can't seem to figure out why." She frowned, leaning her head on your shoulder as you walked home. "Has he said anything to you?"

You hated being reminded of the fact that Han Taesan does not reply to any of your letters and takes at least two business days to read a text message. You hated thinking about it, knowing you tried so hard to keep in touch with him. You’d even gone to his apartment to find Leehan, who so clearly hated you, just to ask him if he could tell Taesan to text her back. He never told him, though, despite seeing how desperate you were to hear from him.

"No," you sighed. You stopped walking, waiting for the cars to pass so you could cross the road. "I haven't heard anything from him."

"Anything?"

"Nothing."

"What a jerk," Taesan huffed. "It's been a month. Do you think he'll come back?"

In all honesty, you didn't know if you’d ever see Han Taesan again. You were afraid that your friendship would've been short-lived, that he'd have already moved on before you could figure out what you wanted — if you wanted him. The more you thought about it, the harder your heart squeezed, as if he were the one holding it in the palm of his hands, squeezing it to remind you that he was, in fact, holding your heart. "I don't know," you mumbled. "A part of me wishes he would, or at least return a call from time to time."

Minju looked at you, finally standing up straight, though her arm was still interlocked with yours. As much as she tried to ignore it, she couldn't help but think that perhaps she wasn't the only one who had a crush on Han Taesan. Perhaps you had one too, though you denied it every single time someone brought it up. But Minju knew — she saw it in your eyes, the way they softened at the mention of his name, a hint of sadness noticeable before turning away, afraid that someone had seen the look on your face. Minju had never cared before, afraid that she'd misunderstood what you really felt for Taesan, assuming that what they had was nothing more than a close bond.

But the longer Han Taesan was away in a foreign country, the wider the distance between him and you became, and the more obvious it became to Park Minju that there was always something more between you, something other than friendship.

She just didn't understand why you were so certain that that wasn't it.

"Do you wanna go get dinner?" Minju asked as you walked up the steps to your home, taking out her set of keys and unlocking the door. "Yunah mentioned this really nice restaurant that just opened up down the street."

"Sure," you replied with a nod, taking off your shoes as you shut the door behind you. "I haven't done groceries yet anyway."

"Okay," she said. "I'm gonna get the smell of coffee off me real quick, then we'll go."

"Take your time." You threw herself onto the couch in your living room, one leg on the couch and the other hanging off as you rested your left arm over your eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. "I'm not going anywhere." As you laid there in silence, waiting for Minju to finish getting ready, your thoughts couldn't help but return to Taesan and his absence. You wondered how he could go so long without responding to you, even after he’d told you how much he'd miss you — to the point where he even considered cancelling his trip altogether. You thought about how cruel he was being, wondering if perhaps he found your reaching out entertaining. But as much as you wanted to badmouth him, as much as you wanted to hate him for his sudden disappearance from your life, you couldn't.

In the end, you would always be there in the same place he'd left you, waiting for his return.

6. STAY IN TOUCH

A phone lights up on the nightstand beside Han Taesan’s bed, vibrating. He stirs for a moment, his eyes opening slowly and tiredly as he looks up at the ceiling. The sun hadn't risen yet as he reached over to grab his phone from the nightstand, checking the time. 3:18 AM. Taesan sighed, sitting up in bed as a hand ran through his hair, scratching his scalp.

It was far from the first time Taesan’s sleep had been interrupted. Ever since he landed in Japan a month ago, he'd found that sleeping was quite difficult, no matter how many pills and herbs he'd been recommended. Perhaps it was the unfamiliarity of the house he'd been staying in, the loudness of the city at night being something he was unable to get used to in comparison to the quiet streets back home. Or perhaps it was his guilty conscience that kept him up at night, the pile of letters on his desk staring him down as his eyes lingered in that spot, the envelopes unopened.

He didn't know why, but Han Taesan couldn't bring himself to read the letters that you sent him. Despite reassuring you that you’d stay in touch, that he'd only be gone for a short amount of time, there was something so intimidating about reading your words. Even the text messages you’d sent him, asking how he was doing, why he'd suddenly gone silent — he couldn't explain it, but speaking to you now that there were hundreds of miles between you scared him.

Now, even the mere thought of seeing you again was terrifying.

Taesan’s phone lit up once more as he unlocked it, checking all of his unread messages and notifications. He had a few texts from Leehan, who sent pictures every now and then of his nights out with friends. Sometimes, he'd even update him on the state of you, though Leehan never really spoke to you. He'd just tell Taesan when he saw you from afar and how you seemed to be doing — and according to his words, you seemed to be doing just fine.

He couldn't help but feel offended — offended that despite claiming to miss him more, you could live without him as if nothing had almost happened, as if you’d already moved on. But could he really blame you for it? He wouldn't even respond to a single letter or text message, for Christ's sake.

"You'll keep in touch, right?" you had asked him as you rode the bus to the airport, Taesan’s only luggage being the backpack, full to the brim, hanging off one shoulder. You stood facing each other as you both held onto the metal handle above you, the rest of the seats on the bus filled. "Like you said you would?"

Taesan looked at you, his head tilting to the side slightly as his lips formed a smirk. "What, miss me already?" he asked, chuckling when your fist met his stomach. "I'm kidding," he said. "Of course I will."

"You better," you said quietly, your eyes looking away from the windows and meeting his, a sort of desperate look in your eyes. You thought about it, whether you should ask about New Year's Eve and what he'd told Minju, whether you should bring up the fact that you were the only female Han Taesan seemed to talk to and if he was talking about you that night. But you knew better.

You didn't want to start something you knew you wouldn't be able to end.

"I'll miss you," you said to him as he prepared to board the plane. You sat beside him, inhaling as you intertwined your own fingers together, resting them on your lap. "Really."

"You already told me," Taesan said with a soft smile. He held the ticket and his passport in hand, his fingers tracing the edges. "If you're gonna miss me so much, why don't you just come with me?"

You shook your head, "I couldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"I’m studying. I have things to do," you explained. "Trust me, as much as I want to, I can't."

Want to? You had never told Taesan you wanted to go with him to Japan. If anything, you’d only expressed your wishes not to go. Have you been lying? Did you lie to make his departure easier? He sighed, his eyes focused on the floor beneath his feet, a moment of silence falling between you as you waited — for you to ask your question, for Taesan to confess the feeling he'd been pushing down since the moment he met you, for his flight to be called.

But you didn’t speak, and Han Taesan couldn't find it in himself to do so either, so as his flight was called to board, a simple goodbye was exchanged, your eyes speaking more words than your mouths ever could in that moment.

Taesan turned his phone off after responding to Leehan’s messages, letting it fall beside him on the bed as he rubbed his eyes, deciding that he was no longer going to fall asleep. He looked around the room he'd been staying in, unable to get used to the feeling of sleeping in a foreign country, a foreign city, a foreign bed. And it was then that he realized he'd gotten so used to sleeping in your bed, anywhere else — even his own back home — felt like he wasn't meant to be there.

Throwing his blanket aside, he got up and walked towards the desk, taking a seat in the wooden chair. He turned on the lamp, the room now dimly lit as he moved the pile of your letters closer to him, opening them one by one as his eyes skimmed over your words.

February 20, 20XX.

Taesan. Sometimes, my mind can't help but wander off and think about you. I wonder if you've found what you're looking for, and I'm happy for you regardless. But there's a part of me that misses you so terribly, I feel my skin start to burn at the mere mention of your name. It burns so much I can hardly stand it.

February 28, 20XX.

Taesan. The lack of you has started to consume me fully, and I don't really know what to do with myself now that you're not around. I know you said it would just be for a while, but this "while" feels like an eternity since the last time I saw you or heard your voice. I knew I'd miss you — I think I told you more times than I could count — but I never thought I'd miss you to this extent.

March 7, 20XX.

Taesan. I look for the remaining traces of you in my room where you used to lay in my bed, in my kitchen where you used to stand beside the counter, laughing and making fun of me for my terrible cooking. It's like I'm being haunted by you, your ghost following me wherever I happen to go, the thought of you always lingering in the back of my mind. You've disappeared, but it's as if you never left in the first place.

March 14, 20XX.

Taesan. There was something I was supposed to tell you the day you left, something that's been eating me alive since then. But I don't know if it's better that I speak or swallow those words, afraid that they'd only tear us further apart than we already are.

March 21, 20XX.

Taesan. There was someone I came across today that reminded me of you and for a moment, I felt comforted by the fact that you haven't spoken to me since we said goodbye. Sometimes, I can't help but resent you for it.

March 28, 20XX.

Taesan. Words fail to describe this feeling that has fallen upon me as of late. There is not a day that goes by where I don't think of you. I miss you.

A hand came up to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose with his index and his thumb. It was hard to explain what he felt in that moment, sitting there as his body began to be consumed by the guilt of lying to someone he cared for so dearly. He let the letters fall out of his hand and onto the desk, feeling like a complete asshole. Perhaps it was the way you had phrased your words that made him feel this way, though your writing had always been a bit melodramatic.

"What are you even writing?" Taesan had asked you once as you sat across from each other in the library. It was almost midnight and he'd tried convincing you to go home, his head resting on the table as he looked at one of the shelves beside him, trying to read the names of all the books there.

"Just... something," you told him, your fingers continuing to type away on the keyboard of your laptop. "Something I need to get out of my system."

He hummed, his eyelids drooping. "So like a diary entry?"

"Not necessarily."

"Then a story?"

"No," you said, pushing your glasses forward. "Just someone's truth."

Taesan sat up and looked at you, confused. His hair was already a bit messy from the nap he'd taken earlier, which led you to smile when you looked up from your screen. "What do you mean, 'someone's truth'?" he asked you with furrowed eyebrows. "You only know your truth."

"Have you ever written anything before?" you asked, your typing coming to a halt. "Like for a class, with a prompt and stuff like that?" He put his head back down, grunting in response. "Seriously?"

"I'm not a writer, Y/N," Taesan mumbled, trying his best to stay awake. "Stuff like that doesn't come naturally to me."

"I see." You lowered your laptop screen, watching Taesan struggle to keep his eyes open. "Do you want to read it?" you asked, fully expecting him to refuse and take another nap while you finished up. But Taesan didn't refuse. Instead, he sat and nodded, waiting for you to turn your laptop around so he could read what you’d written.

Han Taesan remembers being filled with a sense of loneliness as his brain slowly processed your writing, though it wasn't exactly his loneliness that he felt. Now, reading those letters that you sent him — the ones that he'd been so scared to open — made him feel the same way, your loneliness radiating off the paper and seeping into his skin. He could feel it, taking over his body as a part of him began to hate himself for ever making you feel such a thing.

He groaned, his head falling into his hands. Was it possible that his departure had really taken a toll on your life? What you wrote in those letters, though brief — was it all true? You’d said it before, that you’d miss him, but had you really meant it?

The door creaked open and Taesan turned around, watching as Myung Jaehyun, the friend whose house he'd been staying at for the time being, peeked his head through the space between the door and the frame. He smiled, apologizing. "Sorry, I thought you were sleeping," he said. "I just wanted to know if you wanted breakfast."

Taesan rubbed his eyes. "Sure. What time is it?"

Jaehyun pulled his phone out of his pocket, checking the time. "Mm, 7:15." Taesan’s eyes widened slightly as he realized he'd been thinking about you for the past four hours. "I'll call you when it's ready," Jaehyun spoke as he closed the door, leaving him alone once again.

He couldn't understand it, the feeling that had begun to grow in his stomach. He couldn't tell if it was what he was feeling, or if it was just your feelings, your thoughts that were eating at him. He stayed in that chair thinking, until Jaehyun came back to tell him breakfast was ready. But even then, as Taesan sat next to him at the table, Jaehyun telling him about his plans for the day so Taesan would know where he'd be if he needed him, he couldn't help but be lost in his own thoughts, the food on his plate slowly getting cold.

And then it dawned upon him. What he’d been searching for, he wasn't going to find it in a country that was so foreign to him. He wasn't going to find it away from that sense of familiarity he'd always felt back home, and he sure wasn't going to find it in the people he brought home some nights in an attempt to heal a part of him that seemed to be decaying.

The more he thought about it, perhaps he'd made a mistake, judged your actions poorly, let his mind run wild and believe something that wasn't true — and because of that, he'd forced himself to feel something unnatural, something that was nothing close to his true feelings for you. He felt like an idiot, like it could never have been more obvious now that he'd realized. Suddenly, the urge to go back home was strong, the need to explain himself growing. But part of him was screaming at him, telling him that he was too late, that there was no point in returning to a person he wasn't sure thought of him the same way. He sighed, receiving a look from Jaehyun before he continued to eat his breakfast.

But there was never any harm in trying.

7. AS WE ARE

Minju leaned on the doorframe of your bedroom, watching as you laid on the floor, your eyes glued to the white star-cluttered ceiling. The record player on the floor beside you was spinning as it played some melancholy rock song that'd been on repeat for the past couple of hours. Minju let out a sigh, crossing her arms over her chest. "Y/N," she called her roommate's name, a part of her worried about the way you were behaving. "I think you should get up."

Your eyes shifted from the ceiling to Minju’s figure, only glancing at her before they went back to their original position. "I don't really want to," you said, blinking slowly. "If I get up, I have to be productive, and I don't really want to do that right now."

Minju sighed, a wave of pity washing over her as she watched her roommate remain in the same position, refusing to move. She remembered the conversation you’d had the night before, wondering if the words you’d exchanged had anything to do with the way you were acting now.

"Where'd you go?" Minju had asked you as you walked through the door with a four pack of beer in your right hand. It was well past one in the morning, and the only reason Minju was even up was because she had an exam due the next day that she hadn't studied for.

You threw your keys onto the table on the side, completely missing the bowl. "I went for a walk," you said, kicking your shoes off. "I had to think about something."

Minju’s brow raised in speculation. "And you brought back alcohol?" Your movements came to a halt as you stared at the four pack in your hand, a quiet sigh escaping from your lips.

"The walk didn't help," you mumbled, making your way to where Minju sat on the couch and sitting on the opposite end, taking a can of beer into your hand as you opened it. You drank from the can, practically chugging half of it. You then glanced at Minju, offering her one. "You can have one," you said. "If you want."

"I'm okay," she said. "But do you want to tell me what's on your mind?" You shook your head, grunting as you took another sip of beer. "Okay then." Minju turned her attention back to her notes, trying to cram as much information into her head as possible. Silence fell upon you, until Minju heard you sigh once more, watching you rub the side of your face harshly from her peripheral.

"He finally responded, you know," you spoke, breaking the silence. "Taesan, I mean. He called me the other day." Minju turned her head, somewhat shocked.

"What'd he say?" she asked. Curiosity was only natural, given she'd also sent him tons of messages and still hadn't received a single reply.

"He told me he missed me."

Your eyes were filled with a type of sadness Minju had never seen on her roommate's face before. Sure, you did tend to be quite pessimistic, both in your writing and in your nature, but this was different. All those other times that Taesan had been brought up in conversation, she'd never seen that look on your face. It was almost as if you were contemplating what could've been.

"And what'd you tell him?" Minju had closed her laptop at this point, her full attention on you. She crossed her legs beneath her, turning her body to fully face yours. "That you missed him too?"

"Something like that," you sighed again, staring at the wall across from you. "I asked him why he wouldn't answer any of my messages, if he'd finally found what he was looking for. And then when he told me he wasn't sure why he didn't respond and that he was still just as lost as the day he left, I told him I missed him too." Your lips formed a thin line as you turned your head in Minju’s direction, your eyes meeting. You couldn't tell if it was from all the alcohol you’d had from the can in your hand, but you felt your eyes begin to well up with tears as you looked at your roommate. "That's all I ever tell him, Minju," you said, your voice cracking slightly. "That I miss him."

"He's your friend," Minju spoke, trying to comfort you. "Of course you miss him. If I'd hung out with someone the way you two did, I'd miss them too."

"But that's not it." There was frustration in your tone, a hand coming up to harshly wipe your cheek as a tear escaped your eyes. "I don't just miss him. It's more than that now, and he knows that."

"Okay, and what's the problem?"

"The problem is the whole point of us even being friends is so that he can realize I fucking suck." At this point, you’d had given up on holding back your tears, letting them fall free one by one, then altogether. "But he doesn't think I suck. He never did, and now all I can think about is that I actually liked being around him." You paused, covering your eyes with your free hand. "I actually like Taesan."

Park Minju knew that. From the moment she saw you trying to sneak him out of your house the first time you’d met, the sun slowly beginning to rise as its rays peeked through the morning clouds. She knew from the way you kept trying to make excuses despite Minju never asking who he was or why you were in such a hurry to get him out the door. She noticed it in the way Taesan looked at you as he stepped out of the apartment, and in the way you looked at the door after you’d closed it.

"Does he know?" Minju asked quietly, afraid that her question would only ignite more tears from you.

"God, I really hope not," you said, sniffling and chuckling dryly. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if he knew." Minju hummed, watching you finish the rest of your can before setting it down on the floor, proceeding to rub your face with both of your hands. "But I also couldn't have been more obvious, you know?"

"If it helps, I think he also likes you," Minju said.

"It wouldn't matter if he did," you replied, leaning your head back on the couch. "I don't want to ruin what we have over some attraction I happen to feel for him now that he's not here." Your eyes lingered on the ceiling, your vision distorting as you began to space out, trapped in your own thoughts once again. "It's better to stay as we are."

Despite wanting it so badly, Minju could never name a time where you gave in to what you wanted. Even now as she watched you sprawled across your bedroom floor, your eyes red and tired from all the crying you’d done on the couch last night. It was as if you just couldn't stand the idea of being happy.

Or perhaps it was something more than that.

"I'm going to class then," Minju spoke, deciding to give up for the time being. "Let me know if you want me to get you something from work later, okay? I'll be home later."

"Okay," you said. "Have fun."

Hours passed as you remained on the floor, your eyes closed as you succumbed to sleep. By the time your eyes opened, the sun had begun to set, the pink and orange sky illuminating your bedroom through the window. The record player beside you had stopped, the house now eerily quiet as you sat up and ran a hand through your hair. You wondered how long you’d been there, when the music had stopped playing, if perhaps everything that'd happened the night before had been nothing but a dream. You wondered if the realization of your feelings for Han Taesan, a dear friend, had been nothing but a passing thought, but the utter thought of that alone was enough for you to know that it wasn't. The realization had been real.

Your feelings were real, as much as you hated to admit.

With a sigh, you got off the floor and reached for your jacket that'd been thrown across your bed. Your eyes lingered there, on the untouched sheets, on the single pillow that'd been used by Taesan so often the scent of him still remained. Then you put on the jacket and walked out of your room, passing Minju’s closed door, passing the empty living room and kitchen, and stopping in front of the front door as you struggled to put your shoes on.

You had no idea where you were going as you stepped out of the house. Your thoughts were clouded with images of Taesan, and being in your bedroom, the place he so often resided in, only seemed to make you feel worse, your heart aching much more than you could manage.

You let your feet take you anywhere — perhaps to Minju’s work as you waited for her once again. Or maybe your feet would lead you to the ends of the Earth, with no real destination.

"Y/N?"

You turned around, met by a familiar pair of warm, brown eyes. You blinked once, eyes narrowing as you tried to remember the male's name. "Shinyu," you said, watching a smile stretch across his face.

"You remembered," he said, taking a few steps closer to you. "How've you been?"

You felt terrible. You felt like your heart was being crushed right before you, your lungs collapsing and your brain decaying. In all honesty, you felt like you were dying — and oh, how you’d love it if the ground swallowed you whole in that moment, your flesh finally returning to the place where it originated from, the Earth.

But Shinyu didn't need to hear you say any of that. It was quite visible on your face how terrible you were feeling.

"I've been better," you said, realizing that you did look unwell as you looked down at your outfit, still wearing your pajama pants with a black jacket thrown over the first shirt you happened to come across. "You can tell, right?"

"A bit," Shinyu laughed. His laugh was contagious, you thought as you smiled back at him. "I didn't think I'd run into you here."

You looked around, noticing that he'd caught you outside the convenience store close to the university campus, but also not too far from your house. "This is actually a pretty common place," you said, stuffing your hands into your pockets. "I think of all the places, here is where you'd run into me."

"That's not what I meant," he said as he laughed again. "I just didn't think I'd ever run into you again."

The silence that fell upon them was comfortable, as if they'd known each other their whole lives. You believed it was the kindness radiating off of him, like a white light that could've consumed her whole in that moment. You stared at him, noticing the way a smile always rested on his face, his eyes always so full of happiness. It was like nothing had ever gone wrong in that man's life, nothing had ever hurt him before.

For a moment, you envied him. And then, you pitied yourself.

"Do you wanna walk with me?" Shinyu then asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. "If you're not going anywhere, that is."

"Sure," you said. "Where are we going?"

"Nowhere." Shinyu walked past you as you followed, both falling into step as you walked side by side. "I mean, I don't really have anywhere to go, you know?"

"Yeah," you nodded. "I get that."

He glanced at you, your eyes focused on the pavement of the ground beneath their feet, a sort of solemn look in your eyes. A part of him wanted to ask you what was wrong, wanted to comfort you despite only having met you twice — but he knew better than to ask, even if the question was eating him alive. It wasn’t his place to ask, he thought.

He figured it was simply better to stay as you were, simply better to keep his distance.

8. INTERLINKED.

Han Taesan never had any clue what he was going to do with his life.

Even when he was younger, when his teachers would ask him what he wanted to be when he grew up, when his parents started throwing career paths at him like it was the easiest decision he'd ever make, even when you asked him where he saw himself in the future — Taesan had never known. To be fair, he never really cared what became of him. He took college classes for fun, because his parents would shame him if he didn’t learn something. But he always figured it'd come to him eventually, that simply passing time like he was doing now would help him figure something out along the way.

But now that he'd actively been searching for it, that something that would steer his future on the right path, he felt more lost than ever. Perhaps that's why he decided searching in a foreign country wouldn't get him anywhere. Perhaps that was the reason why he'd decided to return home after a month and a half of wandering.

He'd called you about it, about wanting to return, about finally realizing that he was getting nowhere. He called and the phone rang and rang, but you never picked up. Perhaps it was karma finally coming back to bite him in the ass for all of your unanswered messages, all of the letters he never bothered to respond to. He figured it was only natural that you wouldn't pick up, especially given how rare it was for you to talk these days. You could've been busy, too. Taesan always forgets that you’re an English major, your dream being to write something that was worth reading, that would prove you’re worth something.

"I have this need to be remembered, Taesan," you’d told him once before over the phone. It was one of those rare nights where he had actually picked up one of your calls almost immediately, a night where you both seemed to need each other more than ever. "But it's not like I myself want to be remembered. I want what I write to be remembered."

"What's so important about that?" Taesan asked, laying on his back while his phone rested on his chest, listening to your voice on speaker. His eyes stared straight up at the ceiling above him as he yawned, sometimes tuning out, sometimes listening.

"I'm not going to live forever," you said. "But there's this voice in the back of my head that tells me if I write something that's actually worth reading, I'll be remembered through it. Even if I'm not physically here."

"I don't see the meaning in that." Taesan sat up in his bed, grabbing his phone before it slid off his chest, placing it on his lap as he crossed his legs. "I'd rather remember you for who you were as a person than what you wrote, Y/N. I think that's more important than anything."

You never had to prove herself to Taesan, as if just being yourself was always going to be enough for him. But as much as you wanted to, you couldn't see the meaning in that. Being remembered for something important was much more meaningful than being remembered as the person you hated the most.

That's what you believed, at least

Taesan’s leg bounced rapidly as he waited for his flight to be called at the airport, the idea of going back home, of finally getting to see you again made him anxious. Most of him was sure that this was the right decision, that once he set foot on familiar ground, he wouldn't feel so isolated from the rest of the world. He was sure that once he saw you again, all of this anxiety — this feeling he'd never quite felt before — would be gone. You probably wouldn't come running to him like he hoped you would. You probably didn't miss him as much as he hoped you did. He believed a part of you had grown to hate him, and if you didn't, he hoped you would. Just so he'd be able to get rid of that feeling.

But you didn’t hate Han Taesan. In fact, the more time that passed, as much as you hated to acknowledge it, you only found yourself liking him more.

For some reason, you had a feeling that if you spent the entire day at the airport, you would eventually run into Taesan. You didn't know what time his flight would come in — hell, you didn't know he was even on a flight — but there was a quiet voice in the back of your mind that told you he'd be there today. Even if it meant you’d end up in the same seat for seven hours, watching people pass by, searching for him in every seemingly familiar face.

"You really think he'll be here?" Minju asked you a couple hours earlier, concerned for her roommate. "Even though he hasn't told you when he's coming back?" The past couple of weeks, she’d witnessed you progressively lose your mind over Taesan’s absence, looking for him in all the places you’d usually hang out at, lingering there until the last possible minute, waiting. Though part of her understood your behavior, she couldn't quite figure out why your feelings for him had developed so strongly after he'd left.

"I don't know," you replied, peeling your cuticles back, an act you performed only under the influence of anxiety. "I hope so. My gut tells me he'll be here."

"Have you ever thought of the possibility that your gut might be wrong?" As much as Minju wanted to support you, she also couldn't help but feel the need to knock some sense into you. Waiting for someone at the airport when they didn't even know if they would even be on a single flight back? Maybe you truly had lost your mind.

You pressed your lips together, nodding slightly. "Do you think I might be wasting my time?" you asked, your question genuine. "Do you think waiting for him to come back is useless?"

"I believe he'll come back," Minju reassured you, "but I also believe that you waiting for him here like this, without having heard from him exactly when that’ll be — I think that's just straight up insane." She paused, hearing you sigh. "But you've always been one for dramatics."

"It's the writer in me," you said quietly, running a hand through your hair. "I crave it."

"Almost as much as you crave Taesan’s presence?"

"You're not funny." You side-eyed Minju, watching her attempt to hold in her laughter. "I don't need to be reminded," you said, rolling your eyes.

"Okay, but in all seriousness," Minju started, calming down, "why didn't you just return his calls?"

You sighed, your eye twitching as you leaned back in your seat, blowing a raspberry. "I think I'm afraid of what he has to say," you replied. "I don't know, I just didn't want to hear the truth."

"Yet here you are."

"I know," you said, laughing to yourself. "Isn't that funny?"

Minju left later that day, promising to come back and pick you up after her shift at the coffee shop. You wouldn't hold her to that promise, however. You figured if you were going to lose your mind, it was best done in solitude, without witnesses. If you were going to spiral out of control, it was better to do it when no one you cared about was watching you. Perhaps that would save them their worries and you the humiliation.

Truthfully, you felt you had begun to lose your mind when you saw him pass by with his backpack, his hands stuffed into the pockets of the jacket you were oh, so familiar with, having worn it too many times to count. There was no way he'd actually showed up — no, you were hallucinating. Taesan couldn't have returned so soon, not when he still hadn't found what he was looking for. But it wasn't until he stopped walking and turned his head in your direction, his eyes immediately locking with yours, that you realized there was a slight possibility that he was, in fact, real. He was here, only a couple steps away from you as you stood up from the seat you’d been sitting in all day and made your way towards him.

Taesan was confused for a moment, unsure what you were doing there. He knew for a fact you didn't know he was returning today. After all, you’d refused to pick up his calls, so what were you doing there? He didn't know and frankly, he didn't really care. Not when you were right in front of him now, your arms wrapped around him so tightly, as if you were afraid of him leaving again. And the thing is, you were — after all that time, though it may seem short to others, it might've been the thing you feared the most.

"You're here," you spoke, half in disbelief and half in happiness as you hugged him, feeling his arms wrap around you slowly as he finally reciprocated the hug, both shocked with each other's presence. "Why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Taesan replied, still finding it hard to believe that this moment was his reality. "I tried calling you, but you wouldn't pick up."

You sighed, shutting your eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. There's nothing to be sorry for."

Despite wanting to so badly, no words about your feelings for each other were exchanged. You didn't tell him about the acceptance of your feelings, how you wished perhaps in the near future, they'd become something more than friends. You didn't tell him that every second he wasn't there felt like you were getting nowhere in life, that you’d only realized how much you needed him once he was gone. Taesan didn't tell you that a part of him had always desired to have you, from the moment you’d first spoken to each other, your shirt stained with his drink. He didn't tell you about the fact that he'd look for you in other people that passed him by, whether it was at home or in a foreign city. And he certainly didn't tell you that perhaps you were what he'd been looking for the entire time.

Because what good would it do to ruin a friendship so important to you, a bond so irreplaceable you felt your lives were falling apart every second you were apart?

"You were waiting for me?" Taesan asked. It was well past ten o'clock as they walked to his apartment beside each other, and you couldn't stop thinking about how badly you wanted to hold his hand every time yours brushed against his. "Why?"

"Minju asked me the same thing," you replied, walking with your hands behind your back. "I told her I didn't know, and she called me insane."

He laughed, throwing his head back and you stared, your eyes trailing across every inch of his face, memorizing each and every one of his features. "I think she might be right, though," he said, a smile resting on his face when he saw the blank look you were giving him, not because you didn't have a response for him, but because you just couldn't find it in yourself to look away from him. "'Cause you're crazy for me, right?"

It was a normal joke, one that Taesan would make all the time, one that you’d wave off as simple teasing. There was no meaning behind it. In fact, it just served as a reminder that Han Taesan really had returned. 

But if that was the case, if it was really just another joke, why weren’t you laughing?

9. STARTING OVER.

If he were being completely honest, Taesan didn't believe in love at first sight.

He didn't believe in that feeling between two people, the feeling that despite knowing nothing about them, they would complete you in a way no one else has. He didn't believe in the idea that they, a stranger, would grow to love him forever, that they'd love him more than he'd ever be capable of knowing. He didn't believe in any of it. He couldn't bring himself to. It sounded so fictional, too good to be true. But perhaps it was because he'd spent so much time searching for that feeling — that aching feeling in his heart that he couldn't find no matter how long he searched.

He'd searched for it in other people, in people he believed would make him feel more whole and less like a terrible person. He'd searched for it in people who claimed to love him only to leave him the next day, satisfied with the feeling he'd given them the night before, but not enough for them to stay. It was his fault, he figured, because he'd searched for it in people who were unaware that he wanted something more from them, in people who were afraid of committing the rest of their future to someone else. It was his fault that love at first sight was nothing but a made up fairy tale, created for children so they'd have something to look forward to.

But something had begun to change inside of him, something he'd felt the moment he'd laid eyes on you. It was something that only grew the more time passed, something that he couldn't bring himself to ignore any longer.

It was something he knew he'd have to accept, no matter what.

Perhaps it was because you were so forward with him that night, telling him everything you believed he needed to know about you. Perhaps it was because you simply just wanted to talk to him, expecting nothing else in return. Taesan thinks about that night so often, remembering the way you’d turned him down not because you wanted to be friends with him, but because you couldn't handle the idea of someone else actually being interested in you for who yoiu were.

In a way, you and Han Taesan were alike.

As the sun peeked through the blinds of the bedroom, the sound of birds chirping outside, Taesan stirred, his eyes fluttering open as he was met with the familiar sight of your ceiling fan. He watched as it spun, the necklace your mother had given you years ago tied to one of the strings, hanging almost hypnotically, swinging to and fro. He yawned, attempting to move his arms above his head to stretch, only to struggle as he felt something heavy weighing down his right arm. Droopy-eyed, he turned his head, his eyes instantly falling on your sleeping figure, using his arm as a pillow.

It took him a moment to register the scene, trying to remember how you managed to end up in that position. His free arm came up to his eyes, rubbing the sleepiness away as he let out a breath, feeling you turn around to face him, your eyes now open. He looked at you again as a moment of silence fell upon you, a smile slowly making its way onto Taesan’s face. "What?" you asked, your voice groggy and eyes squinting, the sun's rays falling directly on your face. "What's funny?"

"My arm fell asleep," Taesan replied, now bursting into a series of quiet, sleepy giggles. Your head shot up after you realized you’d been laying on it, your eyes widening, a series of apologies flowing from your mouth as you tried to explain yourself — but truth be told, you weren't even sure how his arm ended up beneath your head. Knowing you, you’d much rather sleep without a pillow.

"Sorry," you muttered. "I didn't know I was sleeping on it."

"It's okay." Taesan lifted his arm, stretching it along with his other arm, closing his eyes as a quiet grunt left his throat. "I put it there." He sighed contently, putting his arms down as he looked at you once again. "Because I know you don't like using the pillow."

You found yourself staring at Han Taesan a lot more often than usual these days.

You believed it was the realization that caused you to do so — those first moments after realizing you liked someone, feeling every emotion possible in such a short amount of time. It was something you couldn't really put into words, to which was then expressed by simply staring, hoping he wouldn't catch on, hoping he wouldn't realize what you were doing or why you were doing it. But Taesan noticed.

He notices a lot of things when it comes to you.

Taesan cleared his throat and moved to sit on the edge of your bed, scratching the back of his head before he stood up and stretched again. You watched him, fighting the urge to pull him back to you as your eyes followed his moving figure to your door. You watched him hold the doorknob and twist it, glancing back at you for a moment, your eyes meeting. The door opened.

"You’re leaving?" you asked, still in bed with a blanket over your lap.

"Do you want me to?" Taesan replied, his grip on the doorknob tightening. He hoped you would say no, that you’d tell him to stay even if it was just to lay in silence for another hour or two, even if it was simply to waste time until you finally had to get up and make something of your day. He hoped you’d say no and that a part of you would overcome the anxiety of him knowing, that you would tell him everything you couldn't say.

You crossed your legs, your shoulders slumped. "Only if you want to," you said. "I'm not doing anything today." There was an expectant look in your eyes, though you weren't being direct with him. It was like you were afraid to tell him what you wanted, afraid that he wouldn't give it to you, even though he would.

Frankly, he'd give you the world if you asked him to. He'd still give it to you even if you didn't.

Taesan didn't try to fight the smile that stretched across his face as he pulled the door shut, making his way back to your bed and laying down. "Then I won't do anything today either," he said, pulling the blanket off your lap and over his body.

You still couldn't wrap your head around it, how easily he just gave himself to you without a second thought. You often asked yourself, is this what friends do? Or was this simply unique to Taesan and only Taesan? Did he really enjoy your company as much as he said he did, despite doing nothing most of the time you spent together? Is this what your friendship would always consist of? Your eyes found themselves glued to his face, his eyes closed as he feigned being asleep. A sigh left your lips as your right hand came up to rub the side of your face.

"What are we doing, Taesan?" you muttered under your breath, speaking more to yourself than him.

"What do you think we're doing?" he asked, his back facing you. He heard you sigh again, causing him to finally turn around and face you, sitting up.

"You're being too obvious," you replied, holding his gaze, curious to what you had to say, "and I think you're doing it on purpose, but I don't know why."

It was something he didn't expect from you but at the same time, it was as if you couldn't have said anything else. You had always gotten straight to the point around him — until recently, that is — and you were right. He was being obvious on purpose, he was trying to get you to notice, but only because he felt like there was no other way to express himself. This was all he knew, waiting for the other person to call him out, waiting for them to accept him. Taesan bit the inside of his cheek, trying to decide on whether he should speak and tell you the truth or make up an excuse that even he wouldn't believe. "I think you know why," he said. "You're smarter than you give yourself credit for."

"But why?" you persisted. "Why now?"

"Because I know you like me, too," he said, taking you aback. "Or at least that's the impression I get from you."

Of course he knew. You hadn't tried to hide it and of course he knew. But he had said it so easily, like acknowledging it wouldn't change your friendship for good, like his words were nothing more than words being spoken. But they were so much more than that, even to him. Every word that left his mouth had meaning behind it, and those words meant everything to him.

When you refused to speak, Taesan figured he'd done something wrong. He believed that perhaps acknowledging your shared feelings was something he wasn't supposed to say, that it was something he was supposed to keep hidden until you inevitably parted ways. But how could he? How could he keep them hidden when you were all he ever thought about? You had taken over his thoughts, invading every dream he had. He felt like his heart would jump out of his chest every time he looked at you and he couldn't help but search for you in places you weren't. How could you ever expect him to keep his feelings a secret?

"How long have you known?" you asked, picking at your cuticles, a habit you could never get rid of in the end. "About... that." You were anxious — of course you were anxious. Why wouldn’t you be? — that he would make fun of your feelings, despite always seeming to prove you and your thoughts wrong. A part of you wanted to believe that he would, because he's probably lived this exact scene multiple times, because he's experienced in these kinds of conversations, but Han Taesan would never ridicule anyone over how they felt.

Especially not if it was the person he so desperately longed for.

"I don't think it matters how long I've known," Taesan spoke, watching you play with your fingers, avoiding his eyes and looking elsewhere. "What matters is that you feel the same way I have since the moment I met you. I think that matters more."

"Even though I've rejected you so many times before?"

"Y/N," he said your name with a chuckle, waiting for you to look at him. And though you were hesitant, you did, the sight of his own eyes suddenly making you tear up, overwhelmed by your feelings. "You could reject me as many times as you wanted to, call me an asshole as many times as you wanted to, tell me that I deserve someone better as many times as you wanted to and I'd still be waiting for you." He felt a part of his heart break when you buried your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking slightly as you cried, somewhat embarrassed that he had to see you this way – so vulnerable in front of them, so open.

"I don't think I'll bring you any good," you cried, your voice muffled through your hands, your nails digging into the skin on your face out of frustration. Taesan saw what you were doing and grabbed your wrists gently, trying to pull your hands away from your face. "It's not gonna work and I'll just hurt you like everyone else before you and—"

"You can hurt me all you want," he cut you off, holding your wrists down as he lowered his head to try and look you in the eye. "I don't care if you do."

"But you will."

"That can be a problem for another day, okay?" Taesan paused when his eyes finally met your hesitant, red ones. "I came back because of you," he started, "because I want you more than anything else in this moment. Because I like you more than anyone else I’ve ever had. Let yourself be selfish just this once and tell me what you want, and if it's not me, we don't have to talk about this anymore. We can start over and just pretend nothing ever happened."

You believe you have always been a selfish human being, always making what you wanted clear. But the more you think about it, you have never once let yourself have anything you wanted, afraid you would hurt it, afraid that you would never actually be worthy of anything. It was this anxiety that held you back for so long, and you truly believed that it would only keep holding you back in the future. But now that he was right there in front of you, clearly telling her that you were all he wanted, knowing that he was all you wanted, you couldn't just let him escape your grasp.

Not when you yearned for him so desperately.

You looked pathetic like this, staring at him with tears streaming down your cheeks so early in the morning, wanting to reach out and hold him more than you ever had in the past. You try to open your mouth and speak. You try to say it, what he needs to hear, what you need to tell him. But the words are trapped in the back of your throat, suffocating you, killing you. You look down, sobbing, your hands balled into fists as you grip the fabric of your pants. You couldn’t look at him, not when he was looking at you like that, like you were his whole world, like you were breaking his heart the longer you kept quiet. “Y/N,” he called your name softly, like saying it any louder would hurt him. “Please.”

“I know,” you finally managed to choke out. “I-I know. I’m sorry.” You paused, trying to catch your breath, trying to calm down. And once your breathing leveled out, you continued. “I do like you, Taesan,” you started, still unable to look at him. “Trust me, I do.” You swallowed, wiping the tears from your face as you finally looked up at him. “And I want you to mean something more to me than just a friend who sleeps in my bed sometimes. I want you to mean as much to me as I mean to you.”

You barely have any time to react when Taesan pulls you close to him, his arms wrapped so tightly around you you find it hard to breathe, his face buried in the crook of your neck, breathing you in. He doesn’t say anything, nor does he expect you to return the hug, so when you do, Taesan swears he feels his heart begin to race. “You’ve always been everything to me,” he mumbled into your neck, tears falling from your eyes once more. “Even if you don’t believe me.”

And for the first time since you’d met – for the first time since you’d laid eyes on him that cool October night, since you let him into your room, since you let him sleep beside you in the same bed, since you realized his feelings for you and your own feelings for him – you believed him.

NOTE: see what i mean by rushed ending 😬 LOLLLL anyway i've been working on this fic since october of last year and being able to say that it's finally complete (for now) is huge for me, so i hope you guys enjoyed! idk if i'll post anything else on here (we'll see bc i'm a liar HAHAH) but either way, thank you for making it to the end!! 🥳

2025 © bigsuki, all rights reserved.

“did you know myung jaehyun likes you?” “can you tell your boyfriend to shut up about you?”

he’s not my boyfriend, you’d reply. you started feeling bad for these people at some point. here’s this guy that you knew next to nothing about and he’s talking people’s ears off about how he’s so in love with you. what is he so in love with? he’s never even talked to you. when it was people that you mutually knew, you didn’t think much of it. but then, there were strangers coming up to you.

“uh, are you y/n?” yes. “this dude, jaehyun, is like really into you. he would not stop talking about you at the party.”

so i’ve heard, you’d say. how is this guy telling everyone but you? you started getting annoyed, so annoyed that you finally confronted him. you tried to avoid when he was with his friends, not wanting to embarrass the guy further, but he was always with someone. so, one day, when you spotted him in the library, you decided that enough was enough. you marched right up to his table. what about me are you so in love with? you asked.

if anyone else said that and others overheard, they’d think you were crazy and narcissistic. but, because it was you, no one batted an eye. actually, they all leaned closer, hoping that this was the day jaehyun would finally shut up about you. jaehyun’s face went from shocked to goofy. he had this lopsided grin when he started.

“what’s there not to love? you’re insanely smart—i’ve seen the way you lead discussion sections. you’re really kind—you helped all those freshmen pass genetics even though you were clearly stressed about your stuff. you’re very particular about your drinks, but not in a rude way—i hear you apologizing to baristas about how specific your order is and then you leave a big fat tip. you love the sun. i always catch you sunbathing in the quad around 2pm after class—i swear i’m not stalking you! i just have a class in the quad. you’re funny—the side-eyes you give the people saying the dumbest things make me giggle. you—” you get it.

gosh, if only you could hide further into your hoodie. your face was bright red. all his friends were giving you exasperated looks, as if to say “please go out with him so he’ll finally shut up.” you didn’t realize you ran into him that much. you were constantly stressed, rushing to class, that people were just blurred faces to you. you barely managed to make eye contact with jaehyun and then you saw. he looked at you like you held the answer to all his prayers.

“if i take you on a date, will you stop bothering people about how you’re so in love with me?” you muttered. then, this guy has the gawl to shake his head. “absolutely not. but! i’ll shut up for a day.”

his friends nodded rapidly, begging you with their whole bodies to do it. a day was better than anything, they supposed. so, you asked him out. jaehyun’s grin couldn’t get any wider.

chalant!myungjae stayed true to his word and never shut up about you after that one (blissful) day. just like before, he talked about you with anyone that’d give him the time, even your professors. because you were in the same major, you and jaehyun had the same classes, just not the same section (much to jaehyun’s dismay). so, he’d hang back a few until you arrived so he could give you his notes.

“it’s a preview! so you don’t have to rush to catch everything.”

in those few minutes that you take to arrive, jaehyun’s talking to your professor.

“you should totally make my girlfriend, y/n, your ta! she’s always the top scorer and is helping out other people anyways!” “this is us on our second date. look at how pretty she is! i think she’s the love of my life.” “do you think you could transfer me into this section so i could be with her?” no, they’d say exhaustedly.

if your professors were at all bitter, they would’ve hated you. having to hear about you so much was tiring. but, they all appreciated love when they saw it—or, in this case, heard it. though they didn’t let it show too much, they did tend to favor you after hearing how much you enjoyed the class and helped others. you were certainly helping their ratemyprofessor scores.

chalant!myungjae was a confident person. but, he was never more confident than the times he could acceptably brag that he was your boyfriend.

you took part in dancing as an extracurricular, something that helped college be a little more bearable. because of this, you had performances and recitals. these were college events that jaehyun could finally look forward to.

he always came early just so he could grab a front seat. he was always the loudest, cheering you on whenever you were on stage. when he felt like he wasn’t loud enough, he forced his friends to come along. at one point, he made t-shirts for all of them to wear. we’re here with y/n’s boyfriend. of course, he wore his own shirt. y/n’s boyfriend on the back and the cutest (you didn’t find it all that cute) picture he had of you adorning the front. he was very very proud to be your boyfriend. and, of course, he needed to get you the world’s biggest bouquet every time. you told him that he didn’t need to get you such expensive flowers every time, but he shook his head.

“these aren’t expensive compared to what i really wanted to get you.”

later, you found out that he wanted to get you a thousand lilies of the valleys, your favorite. every time. you scolded him about it, saying how you were broke college students and couldn’t afford things like that.

to that, he said, “yet.”

chalant!myungjae didn’t care for possessing things, you included (because women aren’t possessions, he said), but, man, did he love being possessed by you. anything he could get to let people know he was yours, he’d have. his lockscreen? you. his desktop picture? you. he even had one of those photocard holders attached to his backpack with a polaroid of you. he had half the mind to get the big photocard holders, but he didn’t think you’d like that (you told him that was embarrassing). it didn’t stop at just pictures, though. he even bought himself a necklace with your last name attached. you asked him why he didn’t get your first name or even a necklace for you with his name.

“i want to take your last name! and i didn’t want to buy you something like that without your explicit permission.”

you just sighed adoringly. shouldn’t he have asked your permission for his necklace then?

chalant!myungjae wasn’t just all for show. he also did things that were less noticeable—like having a hair tie around his wrist at all times. you always managed to lose yours and were put out whenever you couldn’t put your hair up. when he saw your cute little pout, he vowed to always make sure you had a hair tie available to you whenever you were together (even if he loved your pout).

another thing he did was carry around a second hoodie—for himself, of course. sure, it made his backpack bulky, but you were worth it. there were days that you’d think the weather was going to be a mild temperature or the buildings weren’t going to blast the ac, so you’d opt out of bringing a sweater. but, when you sadly realized that it was freezing, he’d hand you his hoodie—the one that he was already wearing. you mentioned in passing how much you liked wearing his clothes, but only when they smelled like him, so he always gave you whatever he was wearing at the time and put the second hoodie on (that way you couldn’t say no with the reason that he’d be cold).

chalant!myungjae was always respectful towards women. his mother raised him right after all. there were times though when he wasn’t. like, when he’s getting hit on. you never said anything, never showed an ounce of insecurity. but, he made it his mission to get these girls away from him.

on your late-night outings, both of you dressed up. you looked good. you were bound to attract attention. but, one thing you told jaehyun from the start was that you wouldn’t subject your friends to feeling like they were with a couple when you went out. so, he let you do your thing while he did his. you guys always danced in the club near each other. that’s why you were privy to seeing him turn people away. in an odd fashion.

there were times he’d bark at them. there were times he’d act like he batted for the other team. there were times he’d point at you and show them that he was a taken man. but, the one time this girl didn’t catch the hints—the necklace, the photocard, his lockscreen, his blatant denial—everyone was in for a show.

“your girlfriend doesn’t have to know,” the girl purred, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. you see this happening out of the corner of your eye. you just said a silent prayer for her because you knew jaehyun was about to embarrass her. what you didn’t know was how.

he scoffed. “i tell her everything, even my poop schedule. she’ll know.”

the girl didn’t back off. “well, i don’t see her. she left you here all alone with me. can’t i just have you for the night?”

she’s persistent, you’ll give her that. that’s when you feel someone pull you away from your friends. you’re spun around and a kiss was planted on your lips. your eyes widened before you realized it was jaehyun. you let yourself enjoy the kiss, thinking it was going to be short. but it wasn’t. it was one of the most mind-blowing kisses jaehyun has ever given you. if you were sobering up, jaehyun’s kiss pulled you right back into a haze. he cradled your neck, kissing you deeper, as his other hand pulled you closer. even when the girl finally got the hint and left, he didn’t let you go. if anything, he seemed to take it as his cue to continue. when you heard your friends cheering you on, you let this be the exception to your one rule. when you finally pulled away for air, a string of saliva followed you. you just blinked at him while he had this goofy grin on his face.

“sorry, i had to show her who my girlfriend was.”

safe to say, he didn’t let you go for the rest of the night and you didn’t mind one bit.

chalant!myungjae didn’t really post on his social media. sure, he was active on it, liking his friends’ posts and yours (obviously). he became really active on it once you started dating. jaehyun skipped the soft launch and went straight into the hard launch. every story he posted, his friends could bet that it was going to be you with some corny caption about how much he loved you or how lucky he was. when he did post, they’d just be photo dumps from moments with you. at this point, his account became a y/n fan account. if anyone were to stalk him, trying to see if he was taken or not, they’d know immediately. in his bio, he had your user. his pinned post was your first anniversary date, where you looked absolutely stunning. his profile picture? it was the two of you.

oh, and was he in your comments.

first! i would’ve built rome in a day for you had to pick my jaw off the ground i won’t you. bad. i’m framing this something’s wet and i move my phone to my left hand…

ya... he was getting creative with his comments.

chalant!myungjae makes sure that you know, and the world knows, how much he loves you. he’ll never let a single doubt enter your mind about how he feels about you. you are his girl and he is very much your boy.

if you could peer into your fiance’s office, you would be staring at him 24/7. but the frosted glass was yet another added barrier he placed, especially for you both.

“yeah, just let me know what the next steps are in order to ensure the success of this project. thank you for visiting.” jaehyun walked out with one of the clients he’s been trying to land for a while now, and he wouldn’t have been able to do it without your help. being his secretary was the second most important job to you in the world. and as the man returning back from the elevators walked up to your desk right outside his office, you thought about your first: being his lover.

“in my office. now. and get all the papers. we’ll be going over everything.”

all your co-workers looked at you with widened eyes as you collected every single one of the materials he asked for you to bring into the office. the ceo had already gone back inside his place, and as you followed behind him, you mouth a quick ‘i’ll be fine’ to the worried team. truth is, you’ll be more than fine as you drop the files on his desk, making your way behind it to practically pounce on him.

“what would i do without you?” your fiance muttered, closing his eyes as he attached your lips to his, kissing you with full force while holding your back to support you. staying focused on the kiss, your fingers tugged on his tie, loosening it just enough to make him look way hotter than he already is.

“well, nothing really.” you smile as you let go, him perking his eyebrows with a smirk at your response.

“you wouldn’t be wrong, honey.”

as he tried to undress you, you swatted his hands away, wanting to be the one taking your own clothes off for him. jaehyun leaned back on his chair, admiring the view as you unzipped the side of your skirt to reveal your lacy white underwear. he groaned at thought of you wearing his favorite pair of panty-bras (out of many) he likes to see you in, just wanting to rip your clothes off already.

“ugh you’re so hot.”

you chuckled at his comment before going lower, revealing the garters you also had on. jaehyun’s hands came up then, one to grip your waist as his fingers tugged on the revealed garters. he moaned as you undid one button at the top, revealing a bit of your cleavage along with a hint of your matching bra. you could feel his growing bulge beneath you, him letting go of his fingers under the band to palm himself.

"can't believe you're gonna be my wife soon," he says as he gets harder while watching you.

“well, believe it baby.” you say as you take your blouse off of you entirely.

his impatient hands undo your bra with one snap, letting the pretty cloth fall off of you before attaching his mouth onto your nipple. licking and sucking on them like his life depended on it, his tongue skillfully rubbed your hard nub as he fondled your other breast. his attention was solely on making you feel good, and that got him off more than you could expect.

his unexpected strength always showed in moments like this. as he swiveled his chair, still attentive of you, he swiped off whatever he had to in order to make space for you on his desk before lifting you up to place you there. switching to your other boob, he got you undressed, helping you remove your skirt and panty too. as much as he would’ve liked seeing you in your clothes for longer, he’s too horny to let you stay in them.

his thumb found your clit soon after, massaging there in circles as you let out sweet moans of pleasure. jaehyun had soundproofed his walls for this very reason—to be able to hear every sound you produce when he fucks you in his office. that’s why you never hold back, letting him pull everything out of you.

he looks up at you after he lets go as you straighten your back, your thighs spreading apart where his hand stayed. his eyes soften before he says “i love you,” in the equally as soft tone, but before you can reciprocate, his tongue delves right into your folds, tasting your heat like a madman.

and that’s exactly what he was as he licked long stripes, sucking hard on your clit as his eyes quickly look up to your head thrown back in pleasure. satisfied, he closes them again, his glasses he never took off fogging up with the hot breaths he let out as he gradually gets more pussy drunk. your hands grab onto his hair, pushing his face further into you as you grind against him, his tender lips making contact with every part of your sweet cunt.

getting closer to your release, you keep tightening your hold on your fiance while he continues with his actions. jaehyun is so turned on by you taking control for yourself as he lets you do so, happy to be pleasurable to his darling wife-to-be. your moans get louder before you let go of the knot in your stomach, cumming all around and into his mouth.

getting out from between your thighs, he comes up with glistening lips, smiling up at you as he licks off the excess slick while removing the lenses. it turned you on to see him so, leaning down to kiss his mouth as you taste yourself. “tastes s’good,” he says as you let go, a long string of saliva mixed with cum still connecting you both before breaking off and landing on each of your chins.

he brings you back down on his lap, but not before he frees the tent in his pants that has been long formed and torturing him. his pleasure comes solely from you though, he thinks, while he aligns your hips to make your soaked cunt swallow his hard dick.

“there you go, sweetheart.”

you didn’t even do anything, yet he praised you so sweetly. blushing as you look into his eyes, you impatiently undo all the buttons from his tidy shirt, pulling it off of him yet keeping the tie. tightening the knot on it, you pulled him closer, and as you did so, he tongued his inner cheek while smirking as he let you take control for a little.

jaehyun’s features lit up as he chuckled, loving how adorable you are with every action shared. he held your waist in a tight grip then, assisting you in properly bouncing on him, broken whines and whimpers following suit amidst his own grunts. his muscles flexed as beads of sweat fell from his forehead down to his jaw. but neither of you saw all those details because you both were too busy kissing to do so.

tongues entangled in the messy kiss being shared, drool followed both of you every time you let go for even a second to take a breath. the man holding onto you kept his grip tight as every sound coming out of your throat got swallowed by his mouth. and as he got closer, despite his grip on you loosening, he kept going. the new pace now made it easier for him hit deep inside you with every push, making you groan his name right into his ear while you hugged his form on the chair.

“‘m g’nna cum again jae,” you moan into his ear, fingernails digging harshly into his back. your fiance just hissed in return, biting your shoulder as he continued pushing up into you. his fingers found your clit easily between you both, pressing on it just enough as he heard you whine at the contact. licking the indents he created, jaehyun guided your head out of his shoulder to kiss you once again, letting out broken sentences of encouragement.

the building pressure and stimulation he gave you helped you reach climax once again, scratches on his back accompanying the song of his name that you sang. he just groaned in return, feeling himself get close too as he quickened his pace once more until he spilled his seed inside you.

shared eye contact between the two of you lasted minutes that felt like hours until the two of you calmed down, foreheads dripping with sweat as you both let out open mouthed breaths. opening his eye to look into yours, jaehyun couldn’t help but smile, once again closing the gap between you both.

this time, the softness of the intimacy showed through with the slow yet passionate kisses being shared, very different from the hot ones prior. you let out soft giggles as you felt him smile against you, whispers of love in between each. and as you got ready to get up and head back to work, your fiance didn’t want that yet. “let’s stay like this a bit longer love,” he kissed your collarbone, hugging you tighter as you just stay, nodding at his wish.

jaehyun pulled up against his desk, keeping you atop him while he was still inside you. he could feel himself get hard again because of how soft your walls feel, driving him insane, but the work at hand needed his attention too.

despite all that, he smiled at you, pulling up a couple papers you had initially brought in. “so where were we?”

      𝓀ᴀᴛɪ ꜱᴀʏꜱ: hi guys... haven't written in a while, and honestly idk how much more time i'll need before i can officially begin to write properly again. that being said, this is a rewrite from one of my posts from back when i used to write on my enha acc @/ilyevxn (now deactivated) that you can read here. nevertheless, i hope you guys enjoyed ♡

      𝓭ɪᴠꜱ ʙʏ: mdni by @mikeykuns, scalloped lace by @cursed-carmine, animated lines by @cafekitsune, banner and ending msg by me  &  𝓽ᴀɢꜱ: @ericlvr @hehebeanis @fayepz @j-jellyous @taesanpop @heartsbyminnie @chwrrydolly @ruuroom @merakicafee @s0shroe @nviyselz

      ‧˚ ꒰ ✎ᝰ ˚. written with love. by, 𝓀ᴀᴛɪ ᵎᵎ