#cortisfic

That agreement usually lasted about ten minutes.

The living room was crowded in the way it always was when both of our families got together. Too many people on too few couches, voices overlapping, laughter rising and falling like background noise I could never fully tune out. My mom and his mom were seated side by side, deep in conversation, heads tilted toward each other like this get-together had been scheduled weeks in advance. Our dads were arguing about something on the TV. Sports, probably.

I sat at the far end of one of the couches, legs crossed, phone in my hand, pretending to scroll while being painfully aware of the empty space beside me.

Seonghyeon stood near the doorway, arms crossed, leaning against the wall like he didn’t belong in his own house. His presence alone was irritating. The way he looked so comfortable ignoring me, as if the tension between us was a mutual hobby. Every now and then, I could feel his eyes flick in my direction, quick and unreadable, before he looked away again.

“So,” his mom said suddenly, clapping her hands together. “Why don’t you two help me bring the snacks downstairs?”

I looked up instantly. “Downstairs?”

“Yes,” she said cheerfully, already standing. “The coffee table is full and everyone keeps spilling things. Just put them on the downstairs counter for now.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but my mom beat me to it.

“Oh, good,” she said, smiling way too knowingly. “You two never spend time together.”

Seonghyeon scoffed under his breath. “That’s kind of the point.”

I shot him a glare. “I didn’t ask to spend time with you either.”

His mom laughed, waving us off. “Stop bickering and go. It’ll take five minutes.”

Five minutes turned into us standing in the hallway, both holding plates, walking down the stairs in complete silence. Each step felt louder than the last. The tension followed us like a shadow, thick and unavoidable.

“You’re spilling the sauce,” he said flatly without looking at me.

“I’m not,” I snapped back. “Worry about your own hands.”

“I am. They’re steady.”

“Congratulations. You want a medal?”

He let out a quiet laugh before he could stop himself, then immediately cleared his throat like it never happened. That annoyed me more than if he had insulted me.

We reached the basement door, and he nudged it open with his shoulder. It was dimmer than I expected. It smelled faintly like laundry detergent and something warmer, something unmistakably him.

We set the plates down on the counter, careful not to touch each other. I stayed near the stairs, lingering, watching as Seonghyeon carried the last tray down without so much as looking at me. I decided to leave him. He didn't need my help anymore anyways. We both had made our way up the flight of stairs.

I thought that would be the end of it.

“Seonghyeon,” his mom called from the couch. “Can you also bring the extra napkins? They’re in the cabinet of your bathroom.”

Seonghyeon sighed under his breath and turned back toward the stairs.

My mom glanced at me. “Yn, go with him.”

You put up your hands in defeat. “Mom, I think Seonghyeon is perfectly capable of carrying a few packs of napkins.”

“Just go,” your dad called. Oh now he wants to get involved.

We climbed the stairs in silence. The hallway light hummed softly overhead.

At his door, he stepped inside first, heading straight for his bathroom. I lingered near the doorway.

“Got them,” he said.

“Okay,” I replied.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. Before he even gave me the chance to reply, he was out the door. Why'd he just leave me in his room?

The door clicked shut behind him.

I stood there for a second, alone in his room, unsure why I didn’t immediately follow. The noise from downstairs floated up faintly, muffled now.

I sat down without thinking.

When he came back a minute later, the napkins were gone from his hands,

He stopped short when he saw me sitting there.

“Oh,” he said. “You… stayed.”

I shrugged. “You said you’d be right back.”

He closed the door behind him, slower this time.

Somehow, that’s how I ended up in his room. It was quiet, unfamiliar, and not meant for me.

We were sitting on opposite sides of the bed, knees angled away from each other. The Eom’s house was loud downstairs. You could hear laughter, clinking plates, the sound of the TV playing, but the room felt weirdly still.

“This is stupid,” he said eventually.

I glanced at him. “You’re the one who left me in your room in the first place.”

“No. I mean this,” he clarified, gesturing vaguely between us. “Us acting like we’re at war.”

I huffed softly. “You started it.”

He turned his head toward me. “I did not.”

“You absolutely did. You ignored me first.”

“Because you rolled your eyes every time I spoke.”

“That’s because you were annoying.”

He smiled slightly, and I hated how easy it was for that to disarm me. “You’re still annoying.”

“Good,” I said. “At least I’m consistent.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence was different now. Less sharp. Less heavy.

“You’ve been avoiding these family gatherings,” he said, more quietly this time.

I shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”

“Studying?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“No,” he admitted. “Just… weird.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Weird how?”

“Like you’re always disappearing before I get there.”

I didn’t respond right away. Instead, I picked at the edge of the blanket beneath me. “Maybe I just don’t feel like sitting in a room pretending we don’t hate each other.”

His jaw tightened slightly. “We don’t hate each other.”

I looked up at him then. “Do we… not?”

He met my gaze, really looked at me this time, and for a second the room felt smaller. “If we did,” he said, “this would be easier.”

That caught me off guard.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “You’re bad at being an enemy.”

“So are you.”

A small smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it. He noticed.

“You're like really bad at pretending you don't want to win, you know?” Seonghyeon said, his voice casual but edged with something sharper.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I laughed under my breath, the sound coming out wrong. Too quick, too forced.

“You do that… thing,” he continued, glancing over to you. “You stop smiling and go silent when someone even mentions my name.”

“You always did notice everything,” I muttered, the words slipping out before I could even control them.

Silence stayed between us, thick and extremely uncomfortable.

“I never hated you, you know?” Seonghyeon said, frowning, the honesty landing heavier than I expected.

I finally looked up at him.

“Then why did you always act like I didn't exist?” I asked, frustration creeping into my voice.

“Because every time you did something right, it felt like I did something wrong,” he confessed. “It felt like we were complete opposites, and everyone was always comparing us while also forcing us to like each other. I didn’t know how to be around you without turning it into a competition.”

“I thought you were doing it on purpose,” I laughed, my voice softer now. “Like you wanted me to feel… small or something.”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I just didn't know how to have an actual conversation with you without it turning into… this.”

We sat with that, the resentment loosening, not completely gone, but no longer feeling suffocating.

“It's stupid,” I said after a moment, letting out a quiet breath. “We live right next door to one another.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, a small smile tugging at his lips. “We could've been better.”

“Maybe even best friends," I joked.

He laughed. “Now you're pushing it,”

For a while, neither of us spoke. The noise from downstairs easing the silence in the room. “They always do this,” I said. “Turn it into a whole concert.”

He let out a short breath, almost a laugh. “Yeah. Like it's tradition or something.”

Another pause. Less tense than before.

“I used to turn up my music so loud that I wouldn't hear it,” I admitted. “Especially when I was trying to study.”

He laughed. “Why would you want to be studying when there’s a whole party going on in your house?”

“I don’t know. I just didn’t feel like I fit the vibe of the party.”

He glanced at me, almost like he knew he was the reason I never really enjoyed our family gatherings. The silence stretched between us, awkward and heavy, until he finally spoke again.

“You play music when you study?”

“All the time,” I said. “I don’t think I can go five minutes without some kind of music playing.”

“Wow. Complete opposite.”

I looked at him, surprised. “You don’t like music?”

He shook his head quickly. “No no, that’s not what I meant. I love music. One of my friends makes it, actually. Lyrics, beats, the whole thing. I guess I picked it up from him.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just can’t study with it on. I get too immersed. I stop focusing on everything else.”

He hesitated, then added, “You sing too, don’t you?”

I blinked.

“I’ve heard you,” he said, a small laugh slipping out. “In the car. I don’t think you realize you sing out loud.”

My face warmed.

“You have a nice voice.”

“Yeah…” I muttered. “Thanks.”

He hesitated, then shifted closer to the door of his room.

“Do you wanna come downstairs with me?” Seonghyeon asked, a hint of awkward hope in his voice. “Before our parents think we're murdering each other."

“Yeah,” I smiled, standing up, the tension in my chest finally easing. “Okay.”

Over the years, the rivalry didn’t disappear. It dissolved. Slowly and quietly, without either of you noticing when it stopped existing at all.

Somewhere between shared glances that lasted a second too long and shared silences that no longer felt heavy, between studying side by side and music bleeding softly through your earphones, the resentment thinned out until it became something unrecognizable. What replaced it was worse. Dangerous. The kind of closeness you didn’t know what to do with.

You sat on the floor of Seonghyeon’s room, your back resting against the edge of his bed. The carpet was warm beneath your legs, scattered with open notebooks and textbooks laid out like armour.

The Great Pretender by Dominic Fike played through your earphones on repeat, the song looping so many times you’d stopped registering where it ended and began. The melody filled the quiet in your head, grounding you, keeping your thoughts from spiraling the way they sometimes did when you were left alone too long.

You didn’t mind the quiet. You always liked being alone.

Seonghyeon hovered near you, leaning over your shoulder, his chin almost brushing your hair as he read your notes upside down. He smelled faintly like laundry detergent and something sweet… probably the açai bowl he had demolished earlier.

“You’re gonna burn yourself out,” he said gently.

“I’m fine,” you replied without looking up, pen moving across the page.

“You said that an hour ago.”

“And I’m still fine,” you insisted.

He laughed under his breath, soft and shy, the sound warm. Dimples appeared before you even saw his face.

Without asking, he reached forward and carefully tugged one earbud from your ear.

“Hey—” You finally looked up.

“You’ve been listening to the same song for fourty minutes,” he said. “At this point, it’s studying you.”

“It helps me focus.”

“You’re lying.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re distracting me.”

“I think that’s a you problem.”

He stuck his tongue out at you, giggling when you shoved his shoulder.

“Go practice dancing or something,” you muttered.

“Wow,” he said, mock-offended. “Kicking me out of my very own room?”

Instead of moving, he plopped down beside you, stretching his legs out and letting his shoulder rest against yours like it had always belonged there. The contact sent a small warmth through you.

You didn’t move away.

The song kept playing through your remaining earbud. His knee brushed yours. He tapped his fingers against the floor in rhythm, unconsciously keeping time.

You leaned back just a little more, letting your shoulder press into his.

I am yours, Seonghyeon.

The thought bloomed slowly, frightening in how natural it felt. It stayed, settling into your chest like it had been waiting there all along.

The air was cool and the sky bruised purple as evening settled in. You walked side by side, bags slung over your shoulders. He balanced an açai bowl in one hand, spoon tapping rhythmically.

“You know what’s crazy?” he said.

“What?”

“We’ve lived next to each other our whole lives, and now I see you more than anyone.”

You smiled faintly. “Statistically inefficient.”

He laughed. “You always say things like that.”

“Like what?”

“Smart in a way that makes me feel dumb.”

You stopped walking. “You’re not dumb.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I just… admire you.”

That shut you up.

He scooped another bite of açai. “You used to scare me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Explain.”

“You were quiet. Always studying. I thought you were judging me.”

“I thought you were judging me,” you admitted. “Like I wasn’t enough unless I beat you.”

He winced. “I hate that.”

“So do I.”

You stood there for a moment, the past heavy but distant.

“Do you ever think about it?” you asked. “How we wasted so much time?”

“All the time,” he said. “But I like this part better.”

He looked at you, really looked at you, and your chest tightened.

I hope you are my future.

It was late enough that the house had gone quiet, the kind of quiet that only showed up after everyone else was asleep. The only light in Seonghyeon’s room came from his desk lamp, dim and warm, casting soft shadows across the walls.

You lay on opposite sides of his bed, not quite touching, staring up at the ceiling. Your phone rested on your stomach, screen dark. His speaker played music quitely. Something unfinished, something he’d been working on. It looped quietly, imperfect in a way that made it feel personal.

“You’re thinking really loud,” he said after a while.

You turned your head slightly. “You can hear that?”

“Kind of,” he said, smiling. “You do this thing where you go quiet.”

You huffed. “I’m always quiet.”

“Not like this.”

Silence settled again, comfortable but fragile.

“I used to like being alone,” you said eventually. The words came out softer than you expected. “Like… a lot.”

He shifted onto his side to face you. “Used to?”

“I still do,” you corrected quickly. “I just mean like… being alone was easier. I didn’t have to explain myself to anyone.”

He nodded, listening.

“But now,” you continued, staring at the ceiling again, “It’s different. When I’m by myself, it’s fine. But sometimes I think I’d rather not be.”

You risked a glance at him. He was already looking at you.

“I don’t really get that,” you admitted. “It kind of freaks me out.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “I mean, you don’t have to figure it out right now.”

That made your chest feel lighter.

After a pause, he reached over slowly, like he was giving you time to pull away, and rested his hand near yours. Not touching. Just there.

You shifted your hand slightly until your pinkies brushed.

Neither of you moved after that.

The music played on, soft and steady, and for once, the quiet didn’t feel lonely.

You didn’t mean to pull away. But somehow, over the past week, you’d drifted. Short replies. Cancelled plans. Studying alone in your room. Headphones on longer than usual. Music blasting to fill the quiet that had grown between you.

You told yourself you needed space. Independence. Control. But late at night, when you tried to sleep, your thoughts betrayed you.

Am I waiting for something that isn’t going to happen?

The knock at your door came just as you were about to scroll through your phone one more time. Of course, you opened the door.

“Yn,” he said quietly. His voice was calm, but you could hear it, the sharp edge of frustration lurking underneath. “We need to talk.”

You froze. He always had that effect on you. You opened the door, but didn’t move.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said again, stepping closer. He wasn’t inside yet, just hanging in the doorway, the hallway light catching his messy hair.

“I’ve been… busy,” you mumbled, twisting your hoodie strings in your hands.

“For a week?” His voice was quiet, but it carried across the hall like a warning.

Silence.

“Did I do something wrong?” His eyes searched yours, worried, but tinged with frustration.

You bit your lip, and for a long moment, you couldn’t answer. Everything in you wanted to say yes, wanted to admit the truth, but you didn’t. Instead, you stepped aside, letting him in. Your room was quiet, cluttered with textbooks and notebooks, half-empty water bottles, a hoodie tossed across your chair. Not your best look.

He leaned against your desk, arms crossed, scanning the room.

“I… I don’t know,” you said finally. “I’ve just… I don’t know what I want sometimes. You confuse me.”

His eyebrows drew together. “I confuse you?”

“Yeah,” you admitted softly. “And I wish… I wish you knew how much I care, and how much I’m scared that I’ll screw something up or—”

“Yn,” he cut in softly, but firmly. “Stop.”

You looked up. He wasn’t angry yet but he was for sure getting there. He exhaled slowly. “You don’t get to disappear for a week and act like I didn’t notice.”

“I didn’t mean to disappear,” you said, voice cracking slightly. “I just… needed space. And sometimes I think… maybe I’m waiting for something that isn’t even going to happen.”

His eyes softened a little, but the frustration didn’t leave. “You don’t get to make me worry like that. You’re ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head, but there was humor under the edge. “But fine. I’m mad. Yes, I am mad. But I’m also not going anywhere. Got it?”

You swallowed hard. “I… okay. I get it. I don’t want to lose you either.”

He paused, studying your face. “You know, you’re really bad at saying what you mean.”

“Thanks,” you muttered sarcastically, though a small smile tugged at your lips.

He took a step closer, not touching you, just standing there in the middle of your room like he belonged. “Look. I’m mad and I’m worried. I’m annoyed. But I’m not leaving. That’s the point.”

You looked down, twisting your hoodie strings again, not sure what to say.

“You confuse me too,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t get why you push me away sometimes.”

“I—” You shook your head. “I wish I knew why I do it.”

He smiled faintly. “You’ll figure it out. But just… don’t go hiding from me for a week again, okay?”

You laughed softly, leaning against your desk, feeling some of the weight lift off your chest. The tension between you wasn’t gone but it had definitely shifted. Not a confession. Not even close. But enough to know that neither of you was going anywhere.

It was a quiet night, the kind where the streetlights flickered on just enough to make shadows dance along the walls of a narrow alley. You and Seonghyeon were walking side by side, the air cool, the pavement faintly damp from an earlier drizzle.

“I… I want to audition,” he said suddenly, his voice catching you off guard.

You blinked. “I knew it.”

He laughed softly, shoving his hands in his pockets nervously. “You’ve been telling me for years.”

“There’s more,” he said, glancing at you, his dimples appearing in the soft light. “I don’t want to do it alone.”

Your stomach flipped. “Okay…Wait… Me? You… You want me to audition too?”

“Yeah,” he said, quieter now, almost shy. “You… you love music. You sing. You… you feel it like I do. And I want you there with me.”

You chewed your lip, hesitating. “I… I don’t know, Seonghyeon. Auditioning? For real? That’s… a lot.”

“Exactly!” He stepped a little closer, his voice trembling with excitement and nerves. “It’s scary. That’s why I want you to. Because if I do it alone, it’s scary. But if you’re there… it’s… better. Safer. Not safe exactly, but… you know what I mean.”

You shook your head, laughing nervously. “I… I don’t know if I can. What if I’m like not built for that? What if I mess up?”

“Then I’ll mess up too,” he said immediately, grinning. “But we can mess up together.”

Your heart raced. You wanted to say no. You wanted to run. And yet… somehow, with him, it didn’t feel impossible.

“I…” you faltered. “…Okay.”

He blinked, hope flooding his face. “Okay?”

“I’ll do it. With you.”

His face lit up like the alley itself was glowing. “Yes!” He grabbed your hand, squeezing it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Deal,” you said, and for the first time, it felt like stepping into the unknown wasn’t terrifying at all.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Don’t think this means I won’t panic the whole process.”

“Perfect,” he said, grinning. “Because then I can calm you down.”

“And then what?” you teased.

“Then we can panic together,” he said softly, brushing his thumb against your knuckles. “Deal?”

You:

Are you packed

Hyeon 🩶:

no

You:

Bro our flight is in like less than 48 hours

Hyeon 🩶:

well

are u packed

You:

Ofc not

That's why im texting U

To come over and help me

Hyeon 🩶:

THEN WHY R U SAYINH THAT TO ME

You:

Cuz it's fine if ur not packed

But it's not fine for me

Hyeon 🩶:

literally what

You:

Just come

Hyeon 🩶:

ok

You:

Ok attitude

The suitcase laid open on the bed, half-filled with clothes and an assortment of toiletries while Seonghyeon leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a teasing grin plastered across his face.

“They'll let us room together, Yn. We're 17 years old. What do you think they'll think we're doing? We've known each other since we were in diapers,” he said, stepping closer and nudging a pile of neatly folded T-shirts with his elbow.

“Have we known each other like that though? We didn’t even like each other—” you said, raising an eyebrow as you shoved a pair of jeans into your suitcase.

“Gee, you do loooove reminding me at every chance you get, don’t you?” he said, grinning wider now, clearly delighted at getting a rise out of you.

“Sorry,” you said quickly, muttering as you tried to focus on packing.

“I mean… do you honestly think they'll let us room together?” you asked, tossing a scarf into your suitcase and sighing.

“They let us sleep over at each other's houses all the time… and also, I’ve been looking for this scarf,” Seonghyeon said, reaching into your suitcase and pulling the scarf out like he’d just discovered buried treasure.

You snatched it back from his hands, glaring at him. “Don’t just dig through my stuff,”

Seonghyeon raised his hands in mock surrender, “It's literally mine…”

“And yes, but they’ve always been under the same roof. That’s probably why,” you continued, shaking your head, finally dropping the scarf neatly into the suitcase.

“Yn… we’re 17,” he said, leaning closer with mock seriousness.

“Yeah, and? I know some people our age who are doing some pretty dirt—” your words cut off as Seonghyeon gasped dramatically.

“Holy shit, Yn. You and your parents both know we don’t do those sorts of things… and if anything...” he said, throwing his hands up and pretending to look scandalized, though his eyes betrayed amusement.

You shot him a look of pure exasperation. “You’re annoying.” You grabbed a T-shirt and tossed it in his direction, which he caught with a laugh.

Seonghyeon swung his legs off the bed and began rummaging through the pile of clothes you had laid out. “So, what do you need help with? I’m a packing expert, you know,” he said, rubbing his hands together.

“I don’t know why I let you in here,” you said, trying to hide a smile. “You’re more of a distraction than you are help.”

A moment of silence fell for a moment, broken only by the rustle of clothing as you zipped your bag. Seonghyeon leaned back on his hands, eyes glinting mischievously. “Seriously though… do you really think they’ll let us share a room?” he asked, softer now, less teasing.

You hesitated, glancing at him. “I… I don’t know. I mean, maybe. They probably trust us, but… it’s still weird, right?”

Seonghyeon shrugged, grinning like he already knew the answer.

For the next half hour, you two packed side by side, arguing over what counted as “essential” and sneaking in teasing comments, occasionally bumping into each other in the cramped space of your bedroom. By the time the suitcase was finally zipped shut, the room was a chaotic mess.

“You know,” Seonghyeon said, leaning back against the bedframe, “this vacation is going to be interesting.”

You smirked, adjusting her bag on the bed. “Yeah… with you around, it’s going to be really interesting.”

The hotel room felt quieter than usual, the hum of the air conditioner the only sound as you and Seonghyeon sat on opposite sides of the bed. The rest of your families were downstairs at the casino. It was an unspoken agreement that had been made long before you’d even arrived.

The parents had each taken their own rooms, and the kids had the adjoining rooms, technically four rooms in total. In yours, it was you and your two older siblings, and in Seonghyeon’s, him and his sister. For now, it was just the two of you and that was exactly how you liked it.

“So…” you said, lifting the small bottle of soju you’d grabbed from the mini fridge. You made a mental note to thank your sister for buying you two these. “…Should we go explore downtown?”

Seonghyeon tilted his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I don’t know… do you think our parents would let us?”

“You’re crazy,” you said, shaking your head. “We’re not telling them, silly.”

He leaned closer, brushing his hand over your hair and gently caressing your cheek. “Who are you, and what have you done with my Yn?” he teased, his voice softening. My Yn.

You giggled, feeling a flutter in your chest. “I don’t know,” you admitted, the sound of your own laugh making the room feel warmer somehow. “I feel so much adrenaline right now… like I feel so antsy right now, like we can’t just spend the night in this hotel.”

“Yeah… soju will do that to you,” he said, smirking but eyes glinting. “But Yn… we need to be up at like seven tomorrow.”

“Please,” you said, leaning back on the pillows. “When will you see this side of me again? I’m literally down to do anything but be stuck in this hotel room right now.”

He hesitated for a moment, staring at you like you’d just confessed to something thrillingly dangerous. “How… how are we gonna make it past them without them seeing us?”

“The casino isn’t even near the exit,” you said, smirking mischievously. “We’re chilling. Let’s go.”

Without waiting for him to answer, you downed another shot, grabbed your purse, and threaded your fingers through his. He didn’t hesitate, letting you pull him toward the door. As soon as the elevator doors closed behind you, the lobby stretched out empty, the soft golden lights and echoes of distant laughter fading as you stepped outside.

“The city is so pretty when it’s dead and dark out,” you murmured, tilting your head to take in the streetlights.

He didn’t reply immediately, and you turned to look at him, expecting him to be scanning the street or glancing at the cars passing by. But he wasn’t. He was staring at you. And then he smiled.

“You’re so drunk Yn,” he said, laughing softly.

“I’m so not drunk! What do you mean?” you said, pushing lightly against his shoulder, your own smile betraying how giddy you felt.

“Let’s go. Come. Hold my hand,” he said, a little quieter this time. You hesitated, heart hammering, questioning if he was serious. But he didn’t wait. He simply took your hand. Your fingers laced together naturally and the warmth of his skin against yours made your stomach flip.

You walked down the streets of downtown, the world around you both vibrant and bustling yet distant, almost like you were in your own little bubble. Cafes, vintage shops, thrift stores, neon signs, fast-food joints. They passed by in a blur. Most places were closed, the kind of quiet nightlife that made the city feel intimate and slightly daring.

You didn’t even realize how far you’d walked until the noise of the streets softened into something calmer. The city opened up into a stretch of water, a small lake tucked beside the harbour, the surface reflecting scattered lights.

You hugged your arms around yourself without thinking.

Seonghyeon noticed immediately.

He slowed his steps, shrugging off the grey zip-up he’d been wearing before draping it over your shoulders. His movements were careful, almost instinctive, like he’d done this a hundred times before.

“Here,” he said quietly. “You’re freezing.”

You pulled the jacket tighter around yourself, the fabric still warm from him. It smelled faintly like his cologne that you loved.

“Thank you,” you said softly, glancing up at him.

He nodded, hands lingering for just a second too long near your shoulders before dropping back to his sides. You kept walking, your steps falling naturally in sync again.

The harbour path stretched ahead of you, dotted with a few people. There were couples strolling, someone sitting on a bench scrolling on their phone, a cyclist passing by. Not crowded. Not empty either. Just enough to make the moment feel real.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

He blinked, like you’d pulled him back from somewhere far away. He shook his head once, jaw tightening briefly before he looked straight ahead, pretending to focus on the path. You could feel his awareness though.

“Just that… I like travelling with you and your family,” he said finally. “I always have. Since we were younger.”

That made you look forward instead, your brows knitting slightly as you processed it.

“I thought you didn’t like being in the same room as me when we were kids,” you said carefully.

“I mean… I didn’t,” he admitted.

“Ouch,” you said, dry but not offended.

He glanced at you sharply, lightly bumping his shoulder into yours. “Not like that. You know that’s not what I meant.”

You hummed, waiting.

He exhaled slowly. “It was always fun with your family. But with you… it felt different. Thrilling, I guess.” He hesitated, then continued. “Every vacation, I’d think—is this the one? Is this the vacation where we finally get over whatever weird thing was going on between us?”

You looked at him then, really looked at him.

“I get that…” you said quietly.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was warm. Comfortable. The kind that only happens when two people feel safe not filling every second with noise. Your steps echoed softly against the pavement, the water beside you shifting gently.

“I would’ve been your friend, you know?” you said after a while.

He turned his head slightly, waiting.

“If you made conversation with me, I would’ve reciprocated it,” you continued. “I just didn’t want to be the one to… initiate things.”

“I know,” he said, smiling to himself. “I’ve learned that about you these past few years.”

He slowed down, then spoke again, his voice softer now. “One day we’ll be travelling together again. With our families. Or maybe not with our families.” He glanced at you, eyes bright. “Maybe we’re on tour together. We’ve debuted. Playing shows in different cities.”

You smiled, the idea settling warmly in your chest.

“I’d like that.”

You slowed your steps without realizing it. Seonghyeon noticed, matching your pace until you both stopped near the railing overlooking the water.

“Can I ask you something?” you said.

He nodded immediately. “Yeah. Anything.”

You stared out at the lake, watching the lights ripple across the surface. “Do you ever feel like… you’re always one wrong step away from losing people?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“Like,” you continued, voice quiet, “If you get too close, or say the wrong thing, or want too much, everything just… disappears.”

That made him look at you.

“I don’t think you want too much,” he said slowly. “I think you just feel things deeply and don’t know where to put them.”

You let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “That’s the nicest way anyone’s ever called me difficult.”

He smiled faintly. “You’re not difficult. You’re just careful.”

You nodded. “Because when I was younger, it always felt like I was being measured against you. Like I had to be better just to be seen. And when I wasn’t… I felt replaceable.”

His expression shifted immediately. “Yn—”

“I know,” you said quickly. “You didn’t do that on purpose. But it made me afraid of wanting anything that wasn’t guaranteed.”

He stepped closer, resting his elbows against the railing beside you.

You looked at him then, really looked at him. “You ignored me.”

“Because I didn’t know how to be around you without feeling like I was failing,” he admitted. “And every time you pulled away, I thought you didn’t want me there.”

Silence settled between you again, not heavy, just honest.

“I hate that we wasted so much time,” you said softly.

“So do I,” he replied. “But I don’t hate where we are now.”

You swallowed. “That’s the scary part.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

You turned toward him fully now, heart pounding, the weight of everything unsaid pressing against your ribs.

“That’s why I get distant sometimes,” you admitted. “Because this feels like something I could lose.”

His voice softened. “You don’t have to disappear to protect yourself.”

You hesitated. “I don’t know how to want something without bracing for it to end.”

He met your gaze steadily. “You don’t have to decide what it means yet.”

Something in your chest cracked open at that.

That’s when you spoke.

“Seonghyeon,” you said quietly. “I kinda want to do something right now… but I don’t know if I’ll regret it.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly, concern flickering through his expression. “Okay…”

“But,” you rushed on, already spiraling, “I don’t know if I’ll regret it. Or if it’ll make things weird. Or if I’ll overthink it later and hate myself for—”

“Yn,” he started gently, stepping closer. “You don’t have to—”

You didn’t let him finish.

You stepped forward and kissed him.

It wasn’t perfect or dramatic. It was quick, impulsive, fueled by nerves and too many unsaid things. Your lips pressed to his before either of you could second-guess it, before fear could catch up to you.

For half a second, he froze.

Then he melted into it.

His hand came up instinctively, resting at your waist like it belonged there, grounding you. The kiss slowed, softened, turning careful, like he was letting you lead but making sure you didn’t fall.

When you pulled back, breath uneven, you stayed close, almost daring yourself to look at him.

He stared at you for a moment, stunned.

“…You cut me off,” he said finally, a laugh slipping into his voice.

You huffed softly, embarrassed. “You were gonna talk me out of it.”

He smiled wide, genuine, a little shaken. “I was gonna say you don’t have to do anything you’ll regret.”

“And now?” you asked quietly.

“Now I’m glad you didn't.”

“Me too.”

You stayed close, not quite touching, suddenly hyperaware of how exposed you felt.

Then he moved.

You let yourself fall into him.

Slowly, carefully, like he didn’t want to scare you, Seonghyeon stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you. Not tight. Not rushed. Just enough to pull you in.

Your forehead pressed against his chest, your hands gripping lightly at the fabric of his long sleeve like you needed something solid to hold onto. He rested his chin against the top of your head, breathing you in, his arms tightening just a little when he felt you settle.

You exhaled slowly, tension you didn’t even realize you were holding finally loosening. The city noise faded again, replaced by the steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of him surrounding you.

“I didn’t regret it,” you said quietly, muffled against his chest.

He smiled and you could feel it more than see it. “Good.”

He shifted slightly, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. Then, gentle and unhurried, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

It lingered for just a second longer than necessary.

You closed your eyes.

Nothing felt rushed. Nothing felt uncertain. Just quiet and close and real.

When you finally pulled back, you didn’t move far. His hands stayed at your sides. Yours stayed on his sleeves.

“So,” you said softly, attempting a smile.

“So,” he echoed, dimples appearing.

You stayed like that a moment longer before turning back toward the path. And as you started walking again, his hand found yours naturally, like it had always belonged there.

You could barely keep your lips to yourselves, sneaking quick kisses in the elevator as it carried you up to your floor. By the time you reached your rooms, Seonghyeon was right behind you as you slid your keycard through the lock and pushed the door open.

“Well, at least we made it back before them,” you said, glancing around the room and noting it looked exactly the way you’d left it.

“You’re right,” he replied, shrugging slightly. “Though… I don’t think we would’ve gotten in trouble anyway.”

“Really? Why not?” you asked, turning to face him.

“Because we were together,” he said simply. “I mean, I get them being mad if one of us were alone…”

“Maybe,” you said with a quiet laugh. “Or worst case scenario, we both get it from both of our parents.”

You sat down on opposite beds, facing each other, doing nothing but smiling like idiots. The silence felt warm, easy.

“Thank you for tonight,” you said softly, fiddling with your fingers and looking down to avoid his eyes.

“For what?” he asked, laughing gently.

“You know,” you said, finally looking up. “For coming with me. And for always making me feel… happy.”

He stood up, stepping closer, lifting your chin with his fingers before pressing the gentlest kiss to your lips. It was brief. Soft. Just enough.

Then—

Beep.

The sound of the door unlocking froze both of you.

Seonghyeon stepped back instantly as you hopped off the bed, standing just as the door opened. Both your parents and his walked in together, laughing loudly. Clearly tipsy. Every single one of them. But out of everyone in this room, who's not tipsy?

Your mom immediately came over, kissing your cheek and then Seonghyeon’s. “How are you kids? Not sleeping yet?”

“Not yet,” Seonghyeon replied easily. “Soon.”

You just smiled and nodded.

“How was the casino?” he asked.

“Oh, luck was on our side tonight,” your dad said proudly.

Just like that, the attention drifted away from the two of you. Your siblings made their way to the other room, and the parents were already saying their goodbyes, getting distracted all over again by stories of their night.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, baby,” Seonghyeon said softly, smiling as he kissed your temple before turning to leave.

What the fuck, you thought.

You:

What the fuck was that

Hyeon 🩶:

what was what

You:

THAT

RIGHT INFRONT OF OUR PARENTS

Hyeon 🩶:

oh

that

You:

YES

THAT

Hyeon 🩶:

might need to do it more often from now on if it's arising such a reaction from you

You:

NO

Hyeon 🩶:

no?

fine

i make u happy but u make me sad :(

You:

I hate you

Got me blushing

And it's NAWT from the alcohol flush

Hyeon 🩶:

ye definitely not

definitely FROM me

A couple weeks had passed since your families came back from vacation, and somehow, it already felt like something precious had slipped just out of your reach.

It had been your favourite trip by far. Everything about it felt thrilling in the way only secret things do. Sneaking out, stolen kisses, and the way your parents stayed blissfully unaware, or at least you hoped they did. For a brief moment, it felt like the two of you had your own little world, tucked away between hotel hallways and quiet walks by the water.

When you got back, nothing changed between you and Seonghyeon.

And that was the problem.

You just saw each other less.

You tried, both of you did. You made plans that kept getting pushed back. “Tomorrow?” turned into “This weekend?” which turned into “Soon, I promise.” It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see you. You knew that. He was always at Martin’s place, settling in, getting more comfortable with composing, learning how to shape melodies into something real. Or he was at the studio, dancing until his body ached, chasing perfection in mirrored rooms that never seemed to sleep.

You didn’t blame him. Not even a little. How could you, when you were the one who’d encouraged him to audition in the first place? You’d been the one cheering him on, the one telling him he was meant for more than just daydreams.

And you were proud of him.

Meanwhile, your life had narrowed into textbooks and homework. You were always studying, locked away in your room, hunched over your desk, or buried in a corner of the library until security practically kicked you out. Your world became quiet and structured and lonely in a way you didn’t want to admit.

You and Seonghyeon didn’t even walk to school together anymore.

You started leaving earlier than necessary, just to squeeze in extra study time before class. He, on the other hand, was almost always late, held back by rehearsals that ran too long, studios that never closed when they should have, and nights spent chasing a future that refused to wait.

Still, you tried to stay connected. Texts throughout the day. Short check-ins between classes. Voice notes sent late at night when one of you was too tired to type. It wasn’t nothing, but it wasn’t enough either.

And somewhere between unread messages, the space between you two grew quieter.

He was chasing his dream.

You were chasing your future.

And neither of you knew how to stop drifting without asking the other to give something up.

Hyeon 🩶:

hi

i miss u

come over for dinner?

my mom says u nvr come over anymore

says u got tired of her cooking lol

You:

HI

Miss you more :(

And I could never get tired of her cooking!!

I have a huge test tomorrow that I might have to pull an all nighter for :(

Rain check?

I might be able to swing by for breakfast tho

Hyeon 🩶:

i got early practise b4 class :(

You:

:(

No worries

I just miss you a lot

We'll plan something soon

Tell your mom ill be over sometime tomorrow

Miss her cooking 💔💔💔

Hyeon 🩶:

i miss u real bad too

ill let her know

After school the next day, you headed straight to Seonghyeon’s place with one thing on your mind: food. You felt unusually confident about how your test had gone, and in your book, that absolutely called for a reward. And what better way to celebrate than with Eom Seonghyeon’s mom’s homemade cooking?

You:

Hi eommmaaaaa

I'm starving

Can I come eat your delicious food

Ms. Eom(ma):

Of course sweetie

Come right away after class

I'll prepare lots

You:

Thank youuuuu

Leave the door open for me

Ms. Eom(ma):

I will

When you got to Seonghyeon’s house after school, you barely had time to knock before letting yourself in, the familiar scent of simmering food immediately wrapping around you.

“Hi, imo…” you called out instinctively, already padding toward the kitchen.

She was standing behind the counter, focused on a pot, when you slipped around it and leaned over.

“You scared me!” she exclaimed, clutching her chest dramatically.

“Oops,” you said sheepishly before pulling her into a hug.

She laughed, hugging you back tightly. “I missed you.”

“You missed me,” she teased, pinching your side lightly, “or my food?”

“Both,” you admitted, giggling as she tickled you again.

She shook her head fondly. “Seonghyeon’s upstairs. I’ll call you both when the food’s ready.”

“Oh,” you said, pausing. “Seonghyeon’s here?”

“Yes,” she replied. “He wasn’t feeling very good after rehearsals, so I told him to rest today.”

“Okay,” you said softly. “I’ll go check on him. Thank you, imo.”

You headed upstairs, each step feeling oddly heavier than usual. When you reached his door, you twisted the knob slowly and pushed it open.

It felt strange like it had been forever since you’d last been here.

Seonghyeon was sprawled across his bed, staring at the ceiling, and startled when you walked in.

“Holy shit,” he said, jolting upright. “You scared me.”

He tossed the blanket aside and stood. “What if I was naked or something?”

You laughed. “You wouldn’t even care.”

He smiled and opened his arms anyway, and you stepped into them without hesitation. The hug lingered longer than necessary, neither of you pulling away. You rested your cheek against his shoulder, breathing him in.

“I missed you,” he murmured.

“I missed you,” you echoed.

When you finally separated, he gently lifted your chin and kissed you the same way he had in the hotel room. It was soft, brief, intimate. Familiar.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” he said afterward.

“Yeah,” you replied. “I thought I should reward myself after acing my test.”

“My smart girl,” he said, kissing your cheek.

You followed him back to his bed. He slipped under the duvet again, while you sat on the edge, legs dangling.

“Your mom said you weren’t feeling good,” you said, concern creeping into your voice. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Just exhausted.”

Before you could say more, his mom called you both downstairs.

You ate together quietly, the kind of silence that had always felt comfortable. Plates clinked softly, the hum of the house settling around you.

Then his mom smiled at you. “Yn, dear… Seonghyeon tells me you’re going to audition together. Have you been practicing?”

Seonghyeon looked up at you, curious.

“Oh,” you said, hesitating. “Yes… he asked me to audition with him. I haven’t been practicing as much as he has. I still attend my vocal lessons like I always have, but I’ve been really busy with school and studying lately.”

“Oh really?” she said kindly. “Your mom tells me you practically live at the library. You can always come over here too, you know.”

“I know,” you said quickly. “Thank you, imo. And thank you for the food.”

You stood to gather the dishes, Seonghyeon following. You washed them together quietly while his mom headed upstairs.

Back in his room, he immediately slipped under the duvet again while you sat at the edge.

“Why are you so far? Come here,” he said, tugging gently at your arm. “I missed you.”

You laid down beside him, staring at the ceiling as he turned toward you, arms wrapping around your waist, face tucked into your neck.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

You smiled down at him. “Nothing.”

“Okayyyyy,” he dragged out. “Then I’ll tell you what I’m thinking about.”

“Okay.”

“When are you going to start practicing with me?” he asked. “Like at rehearsals or at the studio? Martin keeps asking when he’s going to meet you.”

You sat up instantly. He followed.

“Seonghyeon,” you said quietly. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh, so you have been thinking,” he teased.

You ignored his remark. “I don’t think I should audition with you.”

He stayed silent.

“I just feel like you’d do better on your own… or with Martin,” you continued. “I’m not even that passionate about dancing. And… we’re almost graduating. And… I want to go to university.”

“I had a feeling,” he said calmly.

“Are you mad?” you asked.

“No,” he said quickly. “Of course not. We just see the future differently. That doesn’t mean we aren’t in it.”

He smiled, resting his head against your lap. Your fingers moved through his hair automatically.

Why does this feel wrong? you wondered.

“What do you see in the future… for us?” you asked, stopping your hand.

He sat up. “I see you in my future.”

“That’s not what I asked,” you said gently but firmly.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I see us still being best friends. Still close. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

You nodded, swallowing the ache in your chest. “No, no. I just wanted you to be honest.”

You stood, grabbing your backpack. “I should get going—”

“Baby,” he said, following you. “Did I… say something wrong?”

“No,” you said quickly. “I just overstayed my… stay, too long. I need to study. Tell your mom I said thank you for the meal.”

And before he could say anything else, you were already down the stairs and out the door, heart pounding, knowing something had shifted, even if neither of you said it out loud.

Hyeon 🩶:

hey

we're good right?

You:

Hey

Of course

I really just had to get back home

All good

Hyeon 🩶:

okay

you would tell me if something was up tho?

You:

For sure

Hyeon 🩶:

cool

alri

ill see u soon

goodnight yn

You:

Night hyeon

Weeks had passed since you’d walked out of Seonghyeon’s room, and somehow, neither of you had really talked about it since.

He still texted you every day. Good mornings, small updates, random thoughts he’d normally say out loud. And you still replied every day, just like you always had. But the conversations felt thinner now. Shorter messages. Longer gaps.

Nothing was said, yet everything had changed.

You both felt it. The shift, the quiet distance settling in where comfort used to be. And even without admitting it, you both knew: whatever had been holding you together was starting to slip, slowly and painfully.

Hyeon 🩶:

hey

You:

Hi

Hyeon 🩶:

happy friday lol

you're home tmrw right?

for thanksgiving

You:

Of course

Where else would I be LOL

Hyeon 🩶:

yay

ive missed u im glad we can finally properly hangout

You:

Me too

Should I ask my sister to buy us soju again👀

Hyeon 🩶:

ofc

is that even a question

too bad we can't walk the streets of downtown tgt again

You:

But who said we couldn't walk the streets of Seogu👀

Hyeon 🩶:

oh

u right u right

👀👀👀👀

You’d been excited all day, the kind of excitement that sat just beneath your skin. Something about tonight felt different. Lighter. Like things might finally fall back into place. You couldn’t explain it, but you trusted the feeling.

You were just heading downstairs when the front door opened, Seonghyeon’s family spilling in all at once. The house instantly filled with noise. Voices overlapping, laughter echoing, shoes being kicked off. Your eyes found him immediately, like they always did. He caught your gaze and smiled, and just like that, the tightness in your chest loosened.

You rushed over to his mom, gently taking the trays of food from her arms despite her insisting she had it.

“I’ve got it, imo,” you laughed, already carrying them toward the kitchen as she nagged behind you.

Once the food was laid out on the table, you felt arms slide over your shoulders, hands clasping loosely around your neck. The familiar weight of him behind you sent a small shiver down your spine.

“I missed you,” Seonghyeon whispered into your ear.

Your instinct was to look around, checking if anyone noticed, but everyone else was too busy talking, laughing, distracted. You turned, his arms falling away as you pulled him into a side hug instead.

“I missed you too, Hyeon,” you said softly.

He kissed your temple like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Let’s eat,” he said, draping an arm around your shoulders and guiding you toward the table.

Later, you found yourselves eating alone in your room, apparently because there were no seats left at the table. Neither of you complained.

“Don’t eat everything at once,” you laughed, watching him shovel food into his mouth. “You’re going to puke.”

He just grinned through a full mouth.

“Shots,” you announced, pouring one for him.

“My little alcoholic,” he teased, grabbing the glass.

You rolled your eyes. “I am not an alcoholic.”

“Whatever you say.”

You both ate like you hadn’t seen food in days, washing it down with shots, your stomachs definitely protesting.

“Okay, come on,” you said eventually, grabbing his hand and helping him up from the floor. “We need to walk off all the food we just consumed.”

“Let’s go,” he said easily, not letting go of your hand.

You grabbed your purse and a sweater, regretting the choice the moment you made it, knowing it meant he wouldn’t offer you his, and headed downstairs, quietly slipping out the front door.

You walked quietly down the street, the night calm and familiar.

“Holy fuck,” he suddenly said, stopping dead.

“What?” you asked, startled.

“We didn’t even tell anyone we were leaving,” he said, eyes wide. “We just… walked out.”

You laughed. “Relax. I texted my mom. She didn’t even reply. She does not care. Plus at least we’re not wandering around a foreign country.”

He exhaled, smiling. “You’re right.”

Then he looked at you again. “That was kind of fun, though.”

“It was,” you said. “Probably my favorite hangout we’ve ever had.”

He hummed, the comfortable silence settling back in as you walked.

You ended up at a nearby park, sitting on the swings, pushing yourselves gently, not too high, just enough to sway.

“I have an audition date,” he said suddenly.

You turned toward him immediately. “Holy shit, Seonghyeon—that’s amazing! When?”

“Next week,” he said, smiling nervously. “I’m kind of terrified.”

“That’s normal,” you said warmly. “But don’t worry. I know how hard you’ve been working, Hyeon. You’re going to do amazing.”

“Thank you, baby,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you.

When you pulled back, you smiled softly. “It feels so natural.”

“What does?” he asked.

“Kissing,” you said. “You kissing me. Just… casually leaning in like that.”

He frowned slightly. “I can’t tell if that’s a complaint or an observation—”

“Hyeon!” you laughed, lightly slapping his chest. He caught your hand, fingers sliding between yours, holding it there.

Now you were holding hands.

And somehow, in that quiet park, under dim lights and an open sky, it felt like things weren’t broken at all, just paused.

You:

Hey! Wanna hang out :)

Hyeon 🩶:

can't baby sorry at the studio

rain check tho??????

miss u like crazy

You:

Ofc

No worries

Don't overwork yourself okayyy

Hyeon 🩶:

ofc baby thank you ❤️❤️❤️

You were exhausted from trying to reach him, from searching for time that never seemed to line up anymore. You knew it wasn’t fair to blame him, and you tried not to. He was chasing something important, something he’d worked so hard for. Still, the thought crept in when you least expected it. If it’s already like this now… how bad would it be if he actually became a trainee?

You caught yourself typing long messages late at night. Everything you wanted to say, everything you were afraid to admit. Then you’d reread them, feel your chest tighten, and delete every word. In their place, you sent short replies instead. Safer ones. Ones that didn’t ask for more than he could give.

And with every unsent paragraph, the distance between you grew a little quieter, and a little heavier.

You’d set your alarm earlier than usual that morning, the kind of early that made your eyes burn a little. You wanted to see him before his audition. To sit with him. To share breakfast. To wish him luck. Something small, something normal. Something that still felt like you two.

You made your way to his house with a bag of breakfast in your hands, the containers still warm.

When the door opened, it was his mom who greeted you, her face lighting up immediately.

“Oh, Yn dear! What a surprise!” she said.

“Hi, imo,” you smiled, lifting the bag slightly. “I wanted to drop off some breakfast for Hyeon. Is he getting ready upstairs?”

Her expression softened, just a little. “Oh, dear… he stayed over at Martin’s last night. They’re probably on their way to the audition now.”

The words landed heavier than you expected.

She glanced down at the containers in your hands. “You should eat the breakfast, okay? Your mom mentioned you haven’t been eating very well lately.”

“Oh… okay,” you said quietly, forcing a small smile. “Thank you, imo. I’ll see you later.”

She nodded warmly, and you turned to leave, stepping back outside with the breakfast still in your hands, uneaten and untouched.

You:

Good morning

Happy audition day !!!!

I went over to bring you some brekky but your mom said you'd spent the night at Martin's

Good luck today, you're gonna do SO good ❤️

Hyeon 🩶:

morningggg

thanks yn

appreciate it

ill lyk how it goes

He didn’t text you at all that day.

You checked your phone more times than you’d admit, even when you knew there wouldn’t be anything there. No I’m nervous, no I’m done. Nothing. You told yourself not to double text. You told yourself maybe he wanted to tell you everything in person. Maybe he was overwhelmed. Maybe this silence meant something better was coming.

A few days passed.

Then a week.

Then another.

You stopped waiting for the buzz of your phone, but the ache didn’t go away.

It wasn’t until you were sitting at the dinner table with your family, fork halfway to your mouth, that your mom casually mentioned it.

“Oh, by the way,” she said, “Ms. Eom called today. She said Seonghyeon passed all the auditions.”

All the auditions?

Your stomach dropped.

There were multiple?

You hadn’t even known there was more than one. You hadn’t known anything. No updates. No reassurance. No sharing the moment with you. The realization hit harder than you expected. Not because he’d made it, but because you’d been completely shut out of it.

And that hurt more than you wanted to admit.

A few days later, his family invited yours over for a small celebratory gathering. A congratulatory dinner. A party for Seonghyeon officially becoming a trainee.

You didn’t want to go.

But you went anyway.

When you finally saw him in person, it was like whiplash. He was glowing. It was clear he was excited, animated, and full of energy. He talked endlessly, telling you about each audition, the callbacks, the waiting, the relief. His hands moved as he spoke, his eyes lit up, his smile wide and unburdened.

How could he talk like this?

How could he act like nothing was wrong? Like you hadn’t gone weeks barely existing in each other’s lives?

You smiled when you were supposed to. You nodded. You laughed at the right moments. But your chest felt tight, like every breath took effort.

Later, you found yourself sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him from behind as he moved around his room, still talking.

“If this actually works out,” he said, voice full of wonder, “everything’s going to change.”

He didn’t even look at you when he said it.

Your eyes stayed on his back.

“And where do I fit into that?” you asked quietly.

He paused, then slowly turned around. “What?”

“You heard me,” you said, your voice steady despite how hard your heart was pounding. “Where do I fit into that?”

He let out a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I mean— of course you’ll fit into it. I always want you in my life. Come on, Yn. You know that.”

“Do I?” you asked. “Because it hasn’t felt like that these past few weeks.”

His brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean,” you said, the words finally spilling, “You practically ghosted me. After I asked how your audition went. I didn’t even know if you made it. You never told me anything. I had to find out there were multiple auditions, and that you passed, from your mom. Not you.”

Your vision blurred before you could stop it.

He noticed immediately, his expression softening. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I just… everything was moving so fast. I didn’t even realize I didn’t have time to—”

“You never have time,” you cut in, voice shaking now. “Not when it comes to me. That’s how it was months ago too. We barely talked. Barely saw each other.”

“I didn’t notice,” he said, frustration creeping in. “You never said anything. I thought we were fine. I thought things didn’t change after—”

“They did,” you said sharply. “You just didn’t notice.”

“You acted like nothing was wrong.”

“I tried to,” you said, pain lacing every word. “For your sake. I walked out of this room acting like everything was fine. Remember that?”

He swore under his breath, scratching the back of his neck. “Fuck… I mean—Yn, we’re not even dating. I don’t underst—”

That was it.

“Fuck you,” you said.

And before he could say anything else, you were already walking out of his room, out of his house, your chest aching, your hands shaking, knowing that whatever you had just cracked… wasn’t going to fit back together the same way again.