You say you have high standards. Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend, Lee Seokmin, is exactly what your mental list calls for; as you joke about him being ‘too husbandable’ during a walk under cherry blossoms, he decides to fix that problem permanently.
boyfriend!lee seokmin × fem!reader ⋅ 2,836 words
🩷 GENRE/S. non-idol au, fluff, romance
🩷 CONTENTS. established relationship, mention of ‘high standards’ vs. reality, cherry blossom setting
⚠️ WARNINGS. none except mild profanity heheheh. but lmk if there is any i should’ve mentioned!
🩷 A/N. this is the first event we’ve hosted for @dorereef, and it was intentionally kept simple as a starting point. from here on, our events will continue to grow and improve as we find our rhythm and build our ideas together. i also want to take a moment to talk a little about drr itself. it’s our baby. both chee and i are attached to it, and to every member we currently have, as well as those who will join us in the future. i’ve been trying to focus more on the present lately, and i’ve realised that this is exactly where i want to be: with drr.
i genuinely wake up excited to see what our members are doing. even though it hasn’t been long, it’s already been incredibly rewarding to be surrounded by such kind and engaging people. i don’t think i can fully express how much love we have for this network and everyone in it.
a huge thank you to chee @nothoughtsjustfic for building this with me and for being such an important part of drr. i genuinely couldn’t do this without her [and all the things she does behind the scenes], and i’m really grateful to be doing this together. to all our members, thank you for being here and for participating. and for those who couldn’t take part this time for any reason, dw. the next events will be even better. we’re just getting started.
anyway, i love drr.
▸ PART OF @dorereef: The Reef In Bloom EVENT
📌 i hope you'll love all the fics in this event!
You always say you have high standards. It comes out so confidently too, it’s literally like you’ve got a whole checklist somewhere written about your non negotiables, expectations and the bare minimums that you can’t really see anymore these days.
But in reality, you know that’s not entirely true. Because if you’re being honest with yourself, you would just fall in love with someone who’s nice and gentle with you— that’s it; that’s the standard, and it’s not a high standard!
It’s a little embarrassing and ‘pathetic’ to admit, so you don’t. You just keep talking big like you wouldn’t melt the second someone treats you like a princess. And you used to think about it a lot more than you’d like to admit. You can’t wait for the day when somebody tells you you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to them, and they mean it entirely and not just saying it because it sounds nice and maybe earn a second date with you.
You used to treat that thought like a far off possibility that might happen one day, if you’re lucky. Because it was never about looks and just standards for you.
You don’t fall in love with looks; you fall for personality (at least that’s what you say for now but your actions might suggest both). If someone makes you smile and willingly joins you in doing dumb things, you’re basically already done. You don’t fall in love— you slip, fall, roll downhill, and accept your fate. That’s just how you are.
And soft spoken men… oh God, That’s been your number one pick in the great catalogue of men since the beginning of time.
Sweetheart, look how pretty that is! The voice comes from your side.
You look beside you and realize you can’t really relate to your past self and her so-called ‘standards’ anymore. You have your boyfriend, Seokmin, who not only has the personality you always wanted, but is also disgustingly good looking; cute and hot at the same time for absolutely no good reason.
You’re walking under rows of cherry blossom trees, petals falling down around you like something out of a kdrama scene. Your hands are intertwined with his warm hands, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over your knuckles as he talks.
He’s saying something more about the cherry blossom that you’re not even fully listening to except that he’s so happy talking about it and that’s all that matters to you to be honest, but his voice is so soft and exactly the kind you always said you liked • ᴖ •
You huff to yourself as you shake your head a little with a smitten smile as you look at him, stopping him from whatever he was saying, “stop being so husbandable if you can’t be my husband, bruh,” you tell him. You don’t even think he hears you, but then he stops walking. You take another step before realizing he’s no longer beside you, your hand slipping from his. You turn back confused, “why did you stop?”
Seokmin is just standing there looking at you in a way that makes you feel… nervous/stomach coiling all of a sudden? “What did you just say?” he looks at you caught off guard, probably can’t believe he’s hearing you right about being smitten over him for the nth time today, again.
“Nothing. I was just talking to myself,” you giggle.
He doesn’t walk when you turn forward to walk again, tugging your hand back to stop you from walking, “say it again.”
You squint your eyes a little with a smirk-smile, “why?”
“Just… please?”
You hesitate to think if you should tease him or just say it again, then sigh because reality hit you and now you feeling a little embarrassed but it’s too late to backpedal, “I said, stop being so husbandable if you can’t be my husband. It’s not that serious,” you hide your face with your hands and sprint away from him a little.
He just chuckles hearing you repeat it and being so shy again instead of your usual smug/forward self. “Well,” he goes after you, “I think that’s something I can fix.”
You frown, “huh?—” he reaches into his pocket and your words die in your throat when he goes down on one knee. Now, your brain is refusing to process what’s happening, like it’s literally lagging behind reality… but then he pulls out a small beige leather box, and suddenly everything feels very dreamlike, “Seokmin…”
“I know,” he’s nervous but trying not to show it too much, “I know I joke a lot, and I know you might’ve been joking about it too, but—” he continues, looking at you like nothing else exists, “you said you have high standards when we started dating… And I don’t even know if I will ever meet them, but I’ve been trying to.”
Your chest tightens so tight, it practically hurts. You want to tell him he exceeded everything you ever wanted from the bare minimum to the S-tier delusions you never thought you’d actually get. Stupid rich, offensively handsome, shining brighter than the sun for no reason, and with a personality so good it makes you consider violence as a form of support, having a personality that would make you kill anyone without hesitation if they made him even a little sad.
“I don’t always know what I’m doing, but I know I want to be good to you… I really do. I want to be someone who takes care of you, who you can rely on, someone who makes things easier for you and not harder… I’m still figuring things out, but I know I don’t want to do that without you,” he’s still on his knees. “And… I don’t know if I say it enough but… you really are the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he looks at you with googly eyes. This is exactly how you imagined it, except it doesn’t feel a far off possibility anymore, “and I mean it,” he adds.
You think you might as well start crying at this point, shit. “Baby…”
As he clicks the leather box open, the sunlight shines on the ring that seems less like jewelry and more like something plucked from a fairytale garden. Literally what you showed him one night, months ago about the styles you love and the styles you don’t. So, resting against the plush lining was a marquise cut diamond. Why you love this is because, the most beautiful part wasn't just the diamond, but how it was held; the rose gold band didn't follow a straight line, but instead twisted into vines that curled around the finger. Nestled along those shimmering gold branches were tiny, leaf shaped diamond clusters.
“So… will you let me be your husband?”
For a second, you just stare at the bright, bubbly, soft spoken man who became your reality. So basically the person who fits every single thing you used to think about like it was impossible.
You manage to breathe again and breathlessly laugh a bit as you shake your head as tears blur your vision. “Yes,” you say immediately after. “Yes, of course.”
His face lights up brighter than the sun or the diamond in the box, relief and happiness crashing into each other as he lets out a laugh of his own. “Really?”
“Obviously,” you mumble even as your voice wavers. “You’re already so husbandable. That’s literally the problem.”
He grins, eyes crinkling as he slips your dream ring onto your finger. “Heh,” he says with a big pretty smile that you absolutely adore. “Then I guess I’m right on track,” he says, but he doesn’t let go of your hand after sliding the ring on. If anything, his grip tightens; he needs to make sure this is actually happening.
He immediately cups your cheek so gently with one hand as his thumb brushes beneath your cheekbone, and the other at your waist.
Leaning in, his touch tightens just a bit as his breath brushes your upper lip first before his mouth connects with yours. His hand at your waist grips tighter and draws you closer without force while his fingers at your cheek angle your face just enough so he can deepen it.
Slowly, the kiss breaks in a reluctant pulling away that leaves the air between you buzzing. He doesn't pull back far but a little to rest his forehead against yours, his nose brushing yours in a gentle friction. For a long moment, the only sound is the ragged synchronization of your breathing and the rustle of the cherry blossoms around you. Slowly, his hands move; the one at your cheek slides down to find your hand, his fingers lacing through yours as he leads you back toward the path. This is when you realise that the world hasn’t changed, but the two of you have.
Under the shadows of the trees, his thumb keeps brushing over the ring over and over again. You’re now staring at your hand.
It feels… strange, but not in a bad way. “Hey,” he says with that pretty smile on his lips. You look up to find him not beaming anymore; instead, his expression has softened into a look so soft and anxious it feels like he’s laid his entire heart bare right there under the trees. But pretty all the same. “You’re really okay with this?” he asks.
You look at him, a little dumbfounded, but there’s no hiding the adoration in your voice or your heart. “You literally just proposed.”
“I know, but—” he takes out a breathless laugh, a sign that he’s a little nervous again, “you joke a lot. I just want to make sure you didn’t say yes because of the moment or something.”
The weight of his gaze is heavy, but it’s a weight you realise you’re more than happy to carry for the rest of your life… but you stare at him for a second, dumbfounded all over again. You didn’t think your love for him could grow any more, but now you know it can. “Lee Seokmin.”
He straightens at your tone. “Yes, love?”
“If I didn’t want to marry you, I would’ve run.”
“…that’s fair.”
“And also,” you hold your hand up between you, “you put a ring on me. There’s no take-backs now. This is legally binding.”
He snorts as the tension breaks instantly, “sweetheart, that’s not how it works,” he’s
with that smile that you love.
“It is now.”
He chuckles as he comes closer and connects your foreheads. Cherry blossoms keep falling around you as some even sit on his hair, on your shoulders, on your joined hands.
“Wait—,” you say suddenly as you gain some sort of enlightenment.
He flinches, “what?”
“You said I’m the best thing that ever happened to you,” you raise your eyebrow at him, looking a little skeptical.
“…yeah?”
“But that’s crazy.”
He deflates on the spot like a puppy that just got told off, “why is that crazy?”
“Because,” you shrug, trying (and failing) to keep a straight face, “I was expecting something a little, you know, maybe a longer speech. Maybe, I don’t know, more tears? Actually! Was hoping for a breakdown.”
He stares at you, lower lip pushed out in a defiant swell that makes him look more like a kicked puppy than a newly engaged man. His brows are drawn together in a mock scowl, but the effect is completely ruined by the sheer, plush roundness of his mouth— a pout so dramatic and endearingly childish it feels like a physical provocation, “you’re making fun of me after I proposed?”
You’re internally, physically, going, sjjsjsnsbzkznzb, your heart doing frantic gymnastics against your ribs as a wave of pure cuteness aggression crashes over you. It’s him that’s making you want to either scream into a pillow or bite his cheek. You go on your tippy toes, catching that soft, stubborn protrusion with a kiss, physically pressing the gloom right off his face. “I said yes, didn’t I?” you whisper against his lips as you feel the tension melt out of him as the pout finally dissolves. “Be happy.”
He squints at you, then gives out a disbelieving laugh. “What do I do with you?” he squishes your cheeks.
“Love me,” you wink at him.
“I do,” he doesn’t hesitate before he leans down to give you a fast kiss on your lips.
It kicks the humor right out of your chest for a second, “…yeah,” you mumble as you look away and look at everything but him, “I know.”
He pulls you into him anyway as his arms wrap around you tightly. You huff, but your arms come up around him just as quickly, holding on just as tight. “Fiancée,” he whispers into your shoulder.
You make a face even though he can’t see it, “don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re obsessed with me.”
He leans back a little to look at you, eyebrows raised, “I am obsessed with you.”
“…okay, that’s embarrassing.”
“And you’re still marrying me.”
You sigh as if you’re annoyed by the fact as if you’re not actually completely gone for him, “yeah, unfortunately.”
He grins bright, completely unbothered and pats your head.
You stay like that for a moment longer, wrapped up in each other while petals keep falling around you. And then he laces your fingers together again, lifting your joined hands. “Come on,” he says.
“Where?”
He playfully smiles with a mixed sweet and teasing glint in his crinkling eyes, “we should probably keep walking. I don’t think proposing was the final destination.”
You look down at the ring catching the light, “… bruh you just changed my entire life mid walk,” you mumble.
“And you’re complaining?” he asked amused as a radiant grin breaks across his face that seems to catch the very photon of the road. It was his smile that didn’t sit on his lips; it crinkled the corners of his eyes into warm crescents and bared a perfect, gleaming row of teeth.
There was a genuine, boyish heat to it… you’ll literally go teary eyes to see a flash of his pure, unadulterated joy that makes his whole expression soften, turning his features into a map of sheer contagious light. Your man looks like a man who had never known a dark day in his life, or perhaps, like someone who had decided to be the sun for everyone else. So, you melt into his smile but being your pretense of being sane for him, “sure.”
He chuckles as the sound is a honeyed vibration that seems to absorb right in the marrow of your bones. He squeezes your hand as you both start walking again under the canopy of cherry blossoms.
You’re walking side by side just like before, but every cell in your body feels electrified by the sudden change within the last ten to fifteen minutes. This isn’t just your best friend or the boy you grew up with; this is the man who just promised his forever to you. You’re trailing beside him as your eyes trace the line of his jaw and his crinkling eyes when he looks at you, feeling absolutely, hopelessly undone.
It’s a terrifying, dizzying kind of love for you. Like, no matter how many times you’ll say you’re down bad for him, you still wanna make sure that everyone knows that you’d follow him into a storm just to stay in his orbit. You watch the dappled light dance across his skin and honestly, you're a goner. You’re down bad, head over heels, and slipping deeper with every step he takes. He’s the only person who could make your heart feel this heavy and this light all at once, and as you tighten your grip on his hand, you realise you never want to surface for air. You swing your joined hands slightly, then look at him again, “by the way,” you add, “why are you so husbandable?”
He smiles without looking at you so it’s a secret thing that he seems to be savoring all to himself. But you saw it anyway. “Because now, I actually get to be your husband,” he looks at you after saying it.
You’re frozen when he looks at you like that, probably expecting you to hit him, flirt with him or say something more cheeky. But you’re still frozen by how he’s looking at you. Internally screaming, your brain is a mess of static because how are you supposed to function when he’s being this fucking perfect? You want to tuck the sound of his voice into your pocket and keep it forever. He’s not just ‘husbandable’ to you at this rate— he is the literal blueprint, the standard, the absolute end of the road for you, and the way he looks right now bathed in the spring light, makes you realise you are irrevocably, helplessly his.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Pairings: theatre actor!seokmin x café owner!reader.
Summary: Sometimes, the most unexpected encounters leave the deepest impressions. Between shared laughter, everyday chaos, and moments that feel almost cinematic, two lives begin to intertwine in ways neither of them planned. And as the rain falls one ordinary evening, they might finally realize that some connections have been quietly growing all along.
Warnings: none. (1 curse word)
Genre: rom-com, friends to lovers, fluff, slice of life.
Au: Non idol au, small town au, theatre actor x business owner au.
Wc: 1.4k (it was supposed to be under 500 words.)
A/n: I wrote this last night while fighting my sleep because I really wanted to write something for our dopamine's birthday. So if you see any mistakes, please bare with me. I am 'MOM SORRY'. HAPPY DOKYEOM DAYYY
It was chilly that evening. Wind blowing, grey clouds approaching, everything that checked the list for “yeah, it’s raining today.” You were a small business owner in town, known for the hard work you poured into your business to make it flourish. And Seokmin? He just existed.
Don’t get it wrong he was successful in his own field too, theatre. But he could never be as dedicated and passionate about something the way you were.
Maybe that was the reason he started liking you in the first place.
It was a summer morning when you both met. You were heading to your respective workplaces when you bumped into each other. Very romantic, very Hollywood, but no, it was actually the opposite. You were both walking near a drainage line in opposite directions when a motorbike sped past you. You lost your balance, and guess what? You slammed into Seokmin with so much force that he fell straight into the drain.
Not very Hollywood now, is it?
When you realized what had happened, embarrassment washed over you. Why would you throw someone into a drain? And how were you even strong enough to knock over this hunk? But you stopped spiraling the moment he climbed out, soaked and dirty from the drain water. He looked like he was about to teach you a lesson, but when he saw you, it felt like his surroundings froze. You looked so gentle and sweet that he didn’t have the courage to say anything. Instead, he stood up and tried to head home because how on earth was he supposed to go to the theatre like this?
As soon as you saw him standing, you knew you had to do something. You had literally thrown him into a drain. Apologies started spilling out of your mouth without a break. No commas, no full stops, just exclamation marks and question marks in your repeated, “Are you okay?”
“Oh my god, I am so, so sorry. I swear it was an accident. You’re fine, right?” you started.
“Oh yeah, I’m fine. Just a few scratches here and there, I guess. Nothing that isn’t curable,” Seokmin replied with a polite smile. But his heart was pounding, and he had no idea why.
“No, I should have been more careful. I feel so bad. Oh my god, should I pay for your hospital fees?” you asked sincerely.
“Eh? Hospital fees? Wait, no, it’s really not that serious. My home’s first-aid kit will be enough for this. Trust me,” Seokmin ended with a giggle.
Seeing him giggle calmed you a little, but the guilt lingered. “Do you want me to pay for your dry cleaning then?”
Seokmin looked at you. Really looked at you and said, “It seems like you’re very rich. Why are you so insistent on paying me?” he chuckled.
“Huh? No, it’s just that I feel so bad for what happened. It’s clearly my fault,” you replied, forming an unconscious pout.
Seokmin found it adorable but didn’t point it out. Too awkward. He sighed and said, “Okay then, if you really want to do something, how about you buy me a coffee from the café at the end of the street? Heard it’s actually very good.”
“You mean BOMG Café?” you asked.
“Yeah, that’s the name, I guess.”
You smiled. “Yeah, sure. Tell me when.”
Seokmin fiddled with his fingers but blurted out, “We should exchange phone numbers.” He turned red immediately. “No, no, no. That’s not what I meant! I mean, if you’re buying me coffee, we have to confirm the date, right? I swear I was not trying to hit on you,” he rambled.
“Hey, hey, I know. That’s fine. I know you’re not hitting on me. Here, take my number.” You handed him your business card. “So bye! I’ll meet you on… whenever we decide. I’m actually late for work. If I don’t leave now, my workers are going to scold me. Bye…”
“Seokmin. And yeah go boss around your workers. Love it when women are the ones giving orders and being the boss.” He gave you a smile so warm it outshone every light around you.
You couldn’t help but smile back. “Yeah. Bye-bye, Seokmin.” You waved with the biggest smile that morning and left for work.
He waved back just as enthusiastically, then glanced at the card you’d given him. His eyes widened when he saw the name of the place you worked at.
“BOMG Café?”
And that’s how it all started.
After that day, you instantly became friends. As if you were the missing pieces in each other’s lives. Bickering over the silliest things. Doing weird stuff in the name of memories. Attending each other’s achievement ceremonies as if they were your own. You just fit.
It was so easy for Seokmin to start liking you. It felt like second nature, taking care of you without being asked, carrying extra tissues in case you forgot yours again, always having headache medicine just in case you needed it. It felt too easy for him to be by your side, to call you his. But he couldn’t afford to say it out loud. He didn’t want to mess up the friendship you shared, so he suppressed his feelings for its sake.
He was startled back to reality when you smacked the back of his head. He almost screamed from the impact but kept his cool. Standing in a public bus station and screaming because a girl hit him? Not cool.
“What ya thinking, man?” you asked, throwing hand signs like you were the one who taught Eminem to rap.
He chuckled and imitated you, getting so into it that he accidentally pushed a boy waiting for the bus beside you.
“Mom, sorry,” Seokmin apologized. The boy looked disgusted and moved away. You laughed so hard you almost forgot to breathe. Seeing you laugh filled Seokmin with a strange relief.
It’s me who’s making her laugh, he thought, before laughing along with you.
After the laughter died down, you both stared at the rain falling.
“Have you noticed that people only dance in the rain in movies? Not in real life. Fake marketing,” you said.
Seokmin looked at you. “What do you feel about dancing in the rain?”
You met his gaze. “Umm… I would love to, actually.”
Seokmin grinned and dropped his bag. He stepped onto the road, holding out his hands, inviting you into the rain.
“Let’s dance, then.”
You were shocked. Did he just go into the rain for you?
“Hey!! You’ll catch a cold. Come back!” you shouted.
“No. Why would I? Do you want to dance or not?”
You opened your mouth to protest, but it was too tempting. So you let yourself go and joined him in the rain.
As you both stood there, drenched, you felt an unexpected peace settle inside you. When you looked at Seokmin, he was smiling so brightly that it warmed you despite the cold rain. It reminded you of the first time you met.
You started dancing. Ridiculous dancing. No music, no choreography. Just laughter and pure fun. You nearly slipped a few times, but neither of you cared. In that moment, the world narrowed down to just the two of you.
People at the bus stop began singing and playing songs for you to dance to. You kept going until your legs ached and your lungs begged for air.
A few minutes later, the bus arrived, and you decided to hop on.
After taking your seats, you tried to dry yourselves, unsuccessfully. All you managed to do was laugh and giggle even more.
“When life gives you a movie moment, you don’t waste it,” Seokmin quoted.
“Bro, what? Your brain is rotted, you know that,” you laughed.
“It might be rotted, but it’s for you,” he muttered under his breath.
Poor thing, you heard it.
“Huh??”
His eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you heard that.” He hid his face in his hands.
“Oh my god, yes. Now tell me. Do you like me?” you asked.
“Umm… yes. A lot. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”
“Oh, finally.” You leaned in and kissed him straight away.
He was shocked but kissed you back with the same love.
“Finally. It was so painful watching you be so oblivious about my feelings,” you said.
He chuckled softly. “So… you like me too?”
“Seriously, Seokmin?”
He giggled and kissed you again.
Outside, the rain slowly began to fade, but somehow, it felt like your story was only just beginning.
✦ note: i'm so excited for you all to read this. I can't figure out if I'm somewhat dissapointed in this story or if it came out exactly as imagined. maybe it's just because I've planned it for so long that if for some reason feels kind of anticlimactic?
Seokmin was a singer, he had been since he had found his voice, since he had heard his first song. It had always been the only thing he ever wanted to do. It had always been what brought him joy. So of course singing had also been his mark.
He discovered it a day where he was abruptly woken from his sleep while a cat was dying outside of his window, or at least that was what he thought had made that all around terrible sound.
It had taken him a minute or so before he discovered that it in fact was you that was singing so loud, and so incredibly bad, that he would’ve gafa-taped your mouth if he could.
He had tried harmonizing with you, but in the end he had to give up entirely, he was after all pretty sure whatever note you tried hitting didn’t exist. What had he done in his previous life to deserve something like this?
No, as bad as you were at singing he found complete and utter joy in it. Bad karaoke night when you had a slurred speech and were with your friends was one of his favorite things, so was waking him while you were singing in the shower. Or at least that was what he was telling himself you were doing, since it was around the same time all workdays of the week.
To him you were perfect, to him you were just right.
Every now and then, you would sing a song, one so heartbreaking and sad, one with a voice so small and broken, that he knew it was only meant for him. A song that represented just how you missed him every day the two of you weren’t together.
He would always stay quiet, tears welling in his eyes, as he listened to the declaration of love, always humming a few words from ‘Thanks’ in response.
He had loved you from the very first note. And he would love you until the very last.
His voice was amazing, it was clean, crisp as an autumn morning, and the first time you had heard it, you had been completely mesmerized.
Your soulmate had most likely more musical talent in his little finger, than you had in your entire body. And it made you proud.
At first you didn’t have the slightest idea of who he was, all you knew was that he was Korean, so naturally you had started learning the language, and one day, in one of the night classes you had hummed one of the songs he had been singing all day every day for the past few months.
One of the girls in your class gently tapped you on the shoulder, and as you turned to her she gave you a gentle smile.
“Are you a carat?” she asked with what almost looked like hopeful eyes.
“I’m… I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure I know what that means” you could feel the blush that crept up your neck and flooded your cheeks with color.
“The song” she crooked her head to one side and looked like a puppy with those large eyes. “It’s by Seventeen?”
You shook your head a little confused, suddenly embarrassed. Within a second she had pulled out her phone. And had the song blasting on her speakers. “They just released it yesterday, definitely one of my favorites”
The mystery woman had stood and left you to your own thoughts after that. Nothing she had said made any kind of sense. Seventeen was a number and carats were a way to measure the worth of diamonds.
You tried your best to forget it, but there was this somewhat nagging voice in the back of your mind who kept telling you to check it out, to google it. But for some reason you just didn’t.
Seokmin was currently sulking in a corner of the dressing room. A small pout on his lips as he stared down at the clothes he was wearing. He couldn’t help but fidget with the golden belt that was tied around his waist.
Joshua dropped down beside him. He analyzed his friend with those large eyes, trying to figure out just what the current problem was.
It was a common misconception that Seokmin was loud in everything that he did. He loved loudly, laughed loudly. But when the feelings were gloomy and sad, he pulled back into himself. He got quiet, distant.
“Are you okay?” Joshua asked as he reached out for his hand.
Seokmin just sighed deeply before he shrugged.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
He pressed his lips together, making the pout even more predominant than it had been the second before. The tears welled in his eyes and they threatened to spill.
“I thought she would’ve found me by now” he managed to say. He turned his head away from Joshua and the rest of the room as he let a single tear fall before he expertly whisked it away before it could ruin his make up.
The room around them quieted. His brothers all looked to one another, they all understood the pain. They all understood what he meant. Seokmin was blessed with a voice not many had, and he was blessed with a platform to share it. He was also blessed with a mark that would make it easy for you to find him.
“I really thought this would be the comeback you know…” He leaned forward on the couch as he buried his head in his hands.
“What if she knows and just doesn't care for me? What if she doesn’t want to know me? What if she’s… disappointed that it’s me?”
He took a deep breath and looked at the sealing to avoid ruining the job of the make-up artists completely. His brothers all flocked around him.
“If she has ever thought that. Even for a second, she doesn’t deserve you. But maybe she just hasn’t found you yet. Maybe this will be the comeback that reaches her” Joshua said with as much hope he could muster. Sparkling eyes that tried to get him to understand his own worth.
Luckily it seemed to work. He leaned into him, and allowed him a few minutes of comfort in his best friend's arms.
Joshua had been right, this was the comeback that finally reached you. A quick google search a few nights after that night class had sent you down the right path. And there he was, the voice of an angel and a beauty so jawdropping you for a second thought he must’ve been shaped by the gods himself.
You had cried, you had cried a lot that night as you did a deep dive into the group, desperate to learn absolutely everything you could about your other half. It had been quite the shock to find out that the beauty with the voice of a siren was in fact a major crackhead.
It had been a long time since anyone had made you laugh so hard your cheeks were physically hurting, but he had managed to do just that. You needed to see him, needed to meet him.
Unfortunately that was easier said than done. Being a somewhat broke student meant that you needed to save at least for a little while, because there was no chance you would just run into him on the street. No, if you were going to meet him, you were gonna need a concert, and you would need to be as close to that stage as humanly possible.
It ended up taking a little longer than you had expected. But as soon as you got your first job after you finished school, you purchased the ticket to Seoul.
You had been blessed by meeting the sweetest stewardess in the airport that quickly upgraded your seat to first class when she noticed the little Doa hanging from your bag. It would at least make the trip a little more enjoyable.
The woman next to you was around your own age, and at one point the two of you ended up sharing your life stories with one another while you shared a bottle of champagne.
“So why are you going to Seoul?” the women named Thalia had asked somewhere between your first and fifth glass.
You had sighed. “I’m going to find my soulmate”
She had raised her glass to that. “What about you? Have you found yours yet?”
A sad smile was all she gave you in response, and you guessed that was answer enough. “My mark is complex,” she shrugged.
You furrowed your brows. “How?”
She sighed. “It’s difficult to explain”
You had left it at that and talked about everything else that seemed interesting for the two of you to share on the long journey. It had felt almost bittersweet to leave her, for a second you had considered if you should ask her to go with you, if she wanted to embark on this adventure with you. But it was way too much to ask of a stranger.
She had gotten off the plane before you, but you ended up catching up to her at the arrival section of the airport where she seemed to have found her driver. You walked up behind her and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.
She laughed as she pulled you into her, giving you a hug. “There you were, I thought I wouldn’t get to say goodbye”
“Glad I found you then” You sent a wink her way that she quickly returned.
“Good luck on finding your soulmate” she said as she took your hand.
You gave Thalias a gentle squeeze. “Yours too. I don't know what makes your mark complex. But if you ask me; the flowers are absolutely beautiful, I’m sure he will think so too. I hope to see you around!”
You pulled your suitcase with you as you walked towards the exit. “Oh! And the sunflowers sprouting when walking through them are especially cute” you waved at her, taking one last look at this stranger, this friend, and the sunflowers you had left in the wake of her daisies.
The next few days you spent getting used to the time difference, eating food and exploring the city. The exploration especially consisted of visiting stores and events for the upcoming concert. It felt nice getting to experience this side of him, of all 13 of them before you got to know them.
It also felt like you were extremely delusional. If it hadn’t been for the constant singing in your head you would’ve felt like you were losing your mind.. Although you wondered just how many of those attending tomorrow's concert would walk in there, hoping they would feel that pull of love towards one of the members.
In all your research about Seokmin and his brothers it hadn’t been quite clear how many of them had met their other halves. The only one that was confirmed was Jeonghan and Limo, the rest was only rumors.
You only hoped you wouldn’t be the last. That he hadn’t waited for too long.
“Limo is bringing a friend today and a reporter, so please be kind to her, and try not to be too strange” Jeonghan had said as they had gotten to the venue that morning.
“I will not be kind to strangers Jeonghan, you know this!” Dino yelled after the older man who already looked like he had lost all his energy.
Seokmin and Soonyoung laid in one of the couches and laughed at the youngest who only got a smack on the arm from his soulmate as a response.
The day went smoothly and before he knew it he was standing on stage once again, ready for yet another performance. But one song into the soundcheck and his heart stopped.
In that pretty head of his he heard that voice of his other half, as she sang along with him.
At first he was just over the moon that she had finally found them, that she finally seemed to catch on and google at least one of the many songs he had been singing over and over again throughout the years.
But this was different. She was singing along, to all of his parts, in all of the songs they were currently performing for their soundcheck. Which could mean one of two things: either she was there in one of the seats, or she was out there being let in at any moment.
Unfortunately for Seokmin they were whisked off stage before he had a chance to really look at the people in the audience, to see if he felt that connection that was hidden deep within him. The shock of it all had made him look down at his feet for most of the time, or looking only at his members, as he tried his best not to cry.
He grabbed Seungkwan as soon as they stepped off the stage. “She’s here” he whispered to the younger man.
“What?” He looked at Seokmin with a look that usually meant: please stop whatever it is you’re doing. But the serious expression and quiet demeanor made him instantly intrigued.
“Wait… Are you sure?” He scanned the man before him, and it was clear for all to see that he was a complete nervous wreck.
“Seokmin, look at me” and he did, his exhales shaking with each breath. “How do you know?”
So he told him, and luckily for Seokmin his friend locked in right away.
He felt like he was floating before he went on stage. In fact he doubted he had ever been more nervous in his life.
Seungkwan had pulled him aside right before they went back up on stage, whispering that he had to cool down a little, and that he did in fact not know if it was just a coincidence and that you just knew the songs because of him, not because you were in fact there.
He had rolled his eyes at that, but he also knew he was right. It could go one of two ways, he would either get the best gift of his life or leave the venue more disappointed than he had ever been. There was no in between.
He was so nervous his whole body shook when he looked out at the crowd. Nothing could calm that beating heart of his, inside his chest.
He scanned every face whenever he could, every single one who looked his way. He heard the small echo of your voice in his ear. It wasn’t loud, almost as if you didn’t want to disturb him. But it was there and it brought him hope.
In one of the breaks he had talked to Wonwoo, and apparently he wasn’t the only one destined to find his other half that evening. Wonwoo seemed more worried, nervous than he did himself.
It was finally turn to walk around on stage and he did, almost in a hurried manner. He scanned every face, as a man on a mission, doing his very best to seem as light and happy as usual. Despite feeling like his heart was about to beat out of his chest.
And then the world stopped. Because right there, holding your hands tightly around the barricade were you. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
He felt heat like never before blossom in his chest, and he had to force himself not to run to you. Instead he sat down at the edge of the stage and sang to you.
It was absolute magic to finally have him standing in front of you. He was even more beautiful in real life. As soon as he had found you, his eyes never left yours. He took your breath away with each note that he sang, he made your heart sing for him whenever you lost your voice due to the overwhelming emotions you felt.
The arena could be empty and you wouldn’t know, because all you saw was him. The man you knew as Seungkwan sat down next to him and sent a wave your way which you quickly returned, and before you knew it he was there by your side, holding a microphone to you.
You knew the traditions of ‘Aju Nice’, every carat did, and it came as no surprise to those around you that you were picked due to DK’s infatuation with you.
You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue and raised a brow to him. He knew your singing voice sounded more like a cat dying than a person singing, and here he was, daring you to make it known for the entire arena. Hell the world.
The notes left your mouth as on queue and the entirety of Seventeen broke down in laughter. You knew right then and there, that this would be something that would haunt you for the rest of your life.
Seokmin ran down the stairs and gently pushed his brother out of the way. The notes had been the final confirmation, because they had echoed in his mind and he now knew that you were his and his alone.
He swung his arms around you and pulled you close, not caring about the crowd or the carats that stood so close. Tears of happiness ran down his face as he pulled away to look at you. To wipe away your tears, before kissing your forehead.
He made a small gesture with his head, and quickly called over security to help you over the fence that was currently between the two of you. As quickly as you had been in his arms, as quickly you were whisked away.
A manager had been there and helped you backstage, where the two of you would be united in no more than a few short minutes.
Your hands flew to your mouth as you buckled over, doing your absolute best to force air into your lungs.
A woman stood close by and was by your side in an instant. “Hey are you okay?” She said with a calm smile displayed on her lips.
You nodded, and then the tears fell even heavier, and without even thinking she had pulled you into her chest.
“Shhhh… It’s okay” she said as she silently stroked your hair. You could’ve sworn you heard her smile, but she calmed you, and for that you were grateful.
She had given your shoulders a small squeeze as the guys one by one started coming back from the stage. Her arms reached out for Jun, as his did for her. He gave you a smile similar to the one she had given you only a moment ago, as he gestured over his shoulders.
And there he was. You had no idea why, but all you could do was laugh, and it was as if the sound itself released him from the trance he was in. Cause he let out what you could only describe as a scream of pure joy, and then he ran to you.
He lifted you from the ground and spun you around, and the two of you laughed. People around you stopped and cheered.
When he sat you down his lips crashed onto yours, and you welcomed it with a smile as you pulled him closer into you. You felt his chest rise and fall as a giggle blossomed beneath his muscles. He was a lot bigger in real life than you had expected.
He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours. “I can't believe you’re actually here” he whispered.
“Sorry it took so long” You saw his pained expression, and you stood on your tiptoes as you kissed him tenderly, hoping the gesture would be enough to make him look less sad. Luckily it was. “I got here as fast as I could”
He gave you a quick kiss before he pulled you into him, he hummed a little melody and it felt like pure bliss to be there to hear his vocals in real time. “I know. I looked for you everywhere I went” he whispered in your ear.
It was a funny feeling. You felt at home instantly despite this being your first ever encounter. He was everything you could’ve ever wished for and more.
He rested that perfectly sculpted nose against yours as he laughed, and you decided right then and there, that it had to be your favorite melody in the entire world.
Neither of you really registered the men and women who stood around you all observing you. You saw only one another, the rest of the world had disappeared.
“Yah! Can you let go of her! Some of us want to meet her!” Joshua yelled from the sidelines, earning him a laugh from the people around them, including the two of you.
Seokmin squeezed you once before releasing only one of his arms, but he never let go. All he did was pull you into his side. Then he nodded and the boys flooded you with introductions and sweet words of congratulations.
When they were done, he kissed the top of your head, and then his look turned serious. “Wait… What about Wonwoo?”
Jeonghan entered then, and gave you a small wave. “They’re in here. Both of them” He smiled and then the room broke out in celebration once again.
As they left him he captured your lips once more, slowly biting your lower lip, an action that made you release a whimper, a sound so perfect and beautiful he almost threw you over his shoulder and kidnapped you back to his apartment.
Instead he just smirked. “Let’s go meet the other new couple”
✦ as always; please comment, like, share, reblog all of that. It what's keeps me going and keeps me writing. My asks are always open for feedback or if you just wanna give me a little praise
Summary: In a crumbling city where the government plans to erase every memory older than ten years, you and Seokmin cling to each other like the last two pages of a burning book. As riots swallow Eidens and the Reset creeps closer, memories slip away one by one — first songs, then names, then faces. But even when Seokmin forgets everything, something remains. A feeling that refuses to die. Because love isn’t always a name. Sometimes, it’s just the way two hands stay intertwined when the world forgets.
Warnings: Dystopian themes, emotional distress, memory loss, Identity loss, angst, tragic end (no character death), brief discription of societal collapse.
A/n: so here it is. It pained me to write it, but worth it, ig..?
The Eidens' breath always had a metallic scent.
Each breath brought with it the bite of rust and rain — the two staples this city could never run out of. The rain persisted eternally, dropping in frail, worn fibers that shrouded everything in silver decay. The neon lights hummed above, straining on the precipice of death, drowning streets in pink and blue that couldn't help but conceal the rot beneath.
You stood in the Memory Exchange line, hands buried in the pockets of your coat. The line curled around the corner, dense with faces as blank as the screens above. Eyes were dodged. Every so often, one of them would mutter a name to himself softly, as an anchor to his mind — and forget it as the clerk reached out to produce a glow.
A mother pushed her way through the crowd, a loaf of bread tucked under her arm. Her son pulled at her sleeve.
"'Mom?" he asked.
Then she gazed at him, her sunken eyes wide.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Do I know you?".
Your wristchip flashed a weak glow beneath the skin. Two more meals, then you'd be hungry, depending on how you managed to get by. You'd already sold out your childhood, the book that you loved, the scent of your dad's shirt as a goodnight squeeze. What you had left after that was as thin as paper, caught between need and nothing.
And then you heard it.
A song.
Soft, obstinate, misplaced in this city of stasis and loss. A sound — light and warm — piercing the cold buzz of the streets.
You turned.
He sat there, on the stoop next to the old subway entrance.
Seok.
He sang with his eyes closed, his hands rapping on a dented metal cup. His voice was too bright for a location like this — crystalline and amber, ringing off the concrete walls. Eyes were averted as individuals passed, feigning not to listen. There was no mistaking it, though — the relaxation of their shoulders, the hesitation in their pace for the slightest second prior to continuing on their way.
You'd heard about him prior to that — the street performer who'd never sell his memories. They'd mentioned that someone had paid him a fortune to buy one, yet always laughed, looking back, "If I forget why a song is, then to sing it is nothing."
Now, witnessing him here, you got it.
Something in him didn't belong to this city. There wasn't anything borrowed about his smile. There was still light in his eyes.
You remained there until his track ended.
He opened his eyes and spotted you staring. For an instant, you froze — half-embarrassed, half-hypnotized by the manner in which his grin opened up even under the rustling streetlights.
"Didn't mean to get you to cry," he said with husky teasing. "I sing because it makes the noise quieter."
You winced, seeing that your eyes were watery. You had never noticed.
"It's beenlong since I've had anything of the sort," you whispered. "You should not sing outside. Other people will—"
"Report me?" he completed. "Yep, I know."
He shrugged, settling back onto the steps. "But if I stop singing, then I'll forget how to be human. Can't do that."
He looked at your wrist then — the blue soft light under your skin.
"You must be recharged," he whispered.
You rolled your sleeve back over. "You shouldn't look."
He grinned once more, this time smaller. Sad. "Everyone's running low around here. Just some of us are better at lying about it."
The rain returned once more, this time heavier. He lifted his hand, stopping some, then brought his palm towards you.
"Trade you something?" he asked.
You frowned. "I've got very little left."
He shook his head. "A song. Not memories."
You waited, but curiosity won out.
He sang something sweet, a tune that repeated like a heartbeat. You didn't realize it, but as soon as he sang — soft, shaky, but alive — something in your heart tightened. It wasn't joy. It was something older. The flavor of remembering.
When he finished, you sat in silence long enough.
"What's it called?" you whispered.
He cocked his head to one side, reflecting. "I don't know anymore," he admitted. "But it once meant hope."
You smiled weakly, though your throat hurt. "Then perhaps I'll purchase that one."
He smiled, the outer corners of his eyes creased. "Sorry, not for sale. Some things should stay free."
He rose, shaking rain off his coat. As he passed by you, he deposited something in your pocket — a dirty, crumpled piece of paper. Then, when you unsealed it, it contained a string of words written in shaky penmanship
: > Well, if the world's going to forget itself, then I'll simply sing loud enough so that it will remember.
You read it over and over again until the words ran together. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you didn't feel quite so empty.
The building you and Seokmin discovered was hardly standing.
Rusted pipes. Cracked brick walls. A roof that leaked no matter how many times you attempted to mend it. But it possessed windows that still captured what little light the city's faltering neon signs could provide. It possessed one corner in which rain could not reach. And when Seokmin sang, the sound had to travel somewhere.
That was sufficient. It had to be.
Half the time, he'd sit at the window with that battered old keyboard he'd pulled off of a junk heap. Half the keys didn't work. The other half were off-tune. But when his fingers stroked across them, when his voice came up to fill those hollow rooms—god, the city wasn't as weighty. Not so much like it was out to flatten you both.
You'd be on the floor at his feet, head on his leg, eyes shut tight, listening to him sing softly songs he could hardly remember all the lyrics to. His hand would wander sometimes, fingers running lightly through your hair without consideration. And for a little while, you could almost pretend. Pretend the rain that never actually did cease to fall. Pretend every tomorrow was free.
Occasionally it nearly did.
But things don't remain silent for long.
You opened the pantry late one night and just. stood there. Two dry biscuits. One crushed can of that hideous nutrient paste that tasted like nothing and despair. Your wristchip emitted this weak little buzz when you touched it—almost no charge remaining. A handful more of memories, perhaps. Then nothing.
He stood in the doorway, arms folded, hair still wet and sticking up from going outside. "We'll figure it out."
Too easy. Too casual.
"Seokmin." Your voice was more harsh than you'd intended. "We've been 'figuring it out' for weeks now."
He fell silent. That smile of his—the one that always made everything feel lighter—remained on his face, but barely. Cracking at the edges. You hated that. Hated even more how much effort he put into concealing how afraid he really was.
"Don't," you said, softer now. "Don't even consider going to the Exchange."
He brushed past you, fingers running over your shoulder. "I'm not."
"You're lying."
He smiled—that quiet, disarming sound that hurt your chest. "If I was lying, I'd do it with more style."
"Seokmin—"
He spun back around, and then he was close, forehead against yours, voice low. "It's just something tiny. A memory I don't even need anymore."
"There's no such thing as tiny when it comes to this."
His eyes were so soft it hurt. "Then let me give you something that doesn't."
When he returned hours later, his hair was wet. His jacket was chilled when he wrapped you in his arms.
The smile remained. But it was.. wrong.
"What did you exchange?" Your voice was just loud enough.
He scowled, for a moment. As if he had to remember.
"The scent of bread," he finally said. "When I was a child. I don't require that any more."
Something in your throat tightened. You wanted to scream at him, shake him, get him to realize that he couldn't just cut off bits of himself anymore in order to leave you both alive. But what you did was bury your face in his chest and he cradled you like nothing was amiss. Like you couldn't sense it—that initial thread starting to unravel.
You woke up the following morning to his singing.
Same old song. But softer now. A bit quiverier. He was huddled near the wall, marker in hand, repeating something again and again.
“Y/N. Y/N. Y/N.”
"What are you doing?" you asked, still waking up.
"Ensuring I won't forget," he replied, smiling over his shoulder.
You scrunched up your face. "You're not gonna forget me."
He hesitated. Marker suspended. The smile remained but something in his eyes flickered—briefly.
Then he wrote your name out again.
Winter arrived slowly and cruelly. The power grid began to fail more and more, so that your apartment would be dark and cold. You got used to keeping candles burning with cracked up pieces of wax. Seokmin played his keyboard in the blackness, breath freezing into fog in front of his face as he sang.
When the curfew sirens began wailing, the two of you would curl up together on the floor under one thin blanket, making the sound seem farther away than it actually was.
"This is nice," he breathed one evening.
"You're cold," you muttered into his shirt.
"Yeah." Gentle laughter. "But you're warm."
Streetlights outside flickered once. Twice. Then went out altogether.
For one instant, the entire world was only your heart beating and his arms and the dark closing in.
You thought: if this is what future looks like, it would be enough.
But in the silence, you heard it.
That low mechanical thrum. The Memory Exchange stalls, still functioning. Always functioning. Open all night.
And when Seokmin's hand touched his wrist—unconscious, reflex—you saw the pale blue glow there.
Fading.
Your stomach hit the floor.
It was already going. The unraveling.
And there wasn't a damn thing you could do to prevent it.
The sound of rain had always been the one unchanging constant in Eidens.
But of late, it no longer rained.
It sounded like time slipping away.
Seokmin sat by the window, thumping the rhythm on the cracked sill. He wasn't singing this night. He had done so earlier — his voice weakening half-way through the tune — but the tune had slipped between his lips as easily as smoke between fingers.
He’d laughed it off.
You hadn't.
"You forgot it again," you whispered.
He looked at you with that same old comfortable grin — gentle, bright, worn out. "Yeah. Guess it wasn't that big a deal."
But you remembered.
This was his favorite.
The first time that he sang to you.
Your hands gripped the chipped mug in your lap. The contents in the mug were lukewarm, watery. Rations were deteriorating day after day. The Memory Exchange rates were going up, as if the city itself were hungry.
"Told you you should not be selling anymore."
His smile failed — just a fraction. "I know."
"Why then are you doing this?"
He shrugged, still facing the window. “Because I like seeing you breathe.”
The words punched the air out of your lungs.
"Seokmin," you whispered, "you should not say such things."
"Yes," he replied. "You don't see things the way that I see things. You… you're still alive in a world that has lost the way to live. If I must pay the cost of some of me to preserve that, then that is what I will do."
Your throat constricted. You wanted to yell at him. Wanted to beg. Wanted to grab his wrist and shake the memory chip off his arm. But you set the mug on the table with precision, the sharp clink ringing too prominently in the room.
"How much did you earn this time?"
He paused. One beat too long.
"Not your father?" He paused then.
The silence that followed wasn't empty — it was heavy. It sat next to you on the floor, pressing on your ribcage.
He chuckled again — too hastily — massaging the back of his neck. "I mean, I couldn't recollect his face even, so—"
"No," you stop me. Your voice cracked. "Stop pretending it doesn't matter."
For the first time in a long time, Seokmin didn't smile.
His shoulders stiffened. He spun around to confront you — actually confront you — and the brief flash of something that possibly could've been fear flickered across his face.
"It is just a voice," he whispered.
"It was yours," you snapped. "And one day, it won't be his voice anymore. It will be your melodies. Your hands. Me."
The final word dropped like ash between you.
Later that night, neither of you could sleep.
The power had gone out yet again. The room's only light came from one candle on the floor between you, the fire flickering as if to save its own life. Seokmin sat in the lotus position, tracing the circles on his arm where the chip pulsed weakly blue. You sat in silence, knees to your chest.
"Do you ever wonder what it's like?" he broke out suddenly.
"Hmm?”
"When it's gone. When they take it."
He prodded the spot some more. "You are told it doesn't hurt. That it just… goes away."
You didn't reply. You didn't wish to discuss fading.
He smiled wordlessly, with head thrown back. "Sometimes I imagine a me that never remembers anything. Not songs. Not my dad. Not you. And wonder if that one still smiled as big as me."
"That's not funny."
He leaned to the side, gazing at the expression on your face. "Hey. I didn't mean—"
"No." Your voice trembled, but you did not budge. "You can't discuss losing yourself as though it's poetry."
He looked at you long enough, the small flickering of the candle making his eyes shine as liquid gold. And then, silently,
"I'm scared."
It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. Just. true. As if it had sat at the back of his throat long enough.
You moved across the room, collapsing down next to him. He didn't struggle as you took his hand away from his wrist and pushed it hard into your chest.
"Then stop doing this." you whispered.
He gazed downward at where your hands intertwined with his. His pulse shuddered within your skin.
And then — so quietly that it hardly even happened — he whispered, "I can't."
The next day, he forgot the color of your best umbrella.
The one with the tiny hand-painted stars.
You laughed it off. He laughed along with you. But then the rain came, and he didn't go for it as usual. That was the point that you knew this wasn't a slow fade. It was a quiet burn — eating away at him piece by piece.
By the end of the week, he'd begun to write it all down.
Names. Addresses. Portions of songs. Your name. Exactly. Repeatedly. On walls. On trash. On the back of his hands.
Like a prayer that he can't forget. And whenever you gazed at him, something in your heart hurt with a fear that you could not define.
The first riot began with silence.
Not shouting. Not the pounding of boots on pavement. Just silence — the kind that vibrated against the bones of the city.
Someone had screamed earlier, a ripple through the crowds of people, then the sound gone, swallowed.
Eidens was holding its breath.
You and Seokmin curled up close to the apartment building's window, both of you under the tattered blanket that the two of you shared. The candle between you had long since died, but no one bothered to re-light it. The room had the feeble glow of the city's neon lights flickering — hot pink bleeding blue. The rain didn't seem to exist beyond the static that it caused.
The announcement from the government had gone across the public screens that morning.
"For the purposes of keeping order, all memories over a decade old will be erased during the Great Reset. Compulsory compliance in seven days."
Nobody knew what exactly that meant. However, all of them knew:
It was the end of what people had left.
You had not stirred since the program.
Seokmn hasn't either.
He laid his head on your shoulder, back warm against the fabric of your shirt. His hands beat along your wrist as though they searched for a rhythm that once existed.
"They're going to wipe the whole thing away," you whispered, almost inaudibly.
He hummed a note that wasn’t a yes or a no.
"They'll try."
You swallowed. "We need to go."
His fingers stopped tapping. “Where?”
You didn't reply. There was no where to go. Eidens found himself surrounded with nothing but fallen highways and stillness. The city had consumed all the rest a long time back.
You could sense him smile weakly into your shoulder. "Then we stay."
"But what about us?.”
"I don't want to use what's left of me to run." His voice was soft, husky, trembling the way it never had been. "I want to use it here. With you. If I'm going to forget, let me forget where I first remembered."
Your breath caught.
Where I first remembered.
He didn't say what. Or whom. But you knew.
That night, the riots began properly.
The Exchange booths were set on fire. The glow of burning memory chips bled into the sky like chemical smoke. People screamed, tearing at one another, desperate to keep what little they had left. The city had always been hungry, but this was different. This was a feast.
You were standing close to the window to see the streets beyond. The flames had painted everything shades of gold and red.
Behind you, Seokmin hummed again.
The melody was shaky, off-beat. But familiar.
You turned slowly.
He sat on the ground with his broken keyboard, his hands passing over the dead keys as though they were alive again. The heat made his hair stick to his forehead, and the wristchip pulsed feebly blue in the blackness.
"Do you remember that one?" you whispered.
He gazed up at you, his brow troubled. "Remember what?"
Your chest constricted. "The song."
He looked at you as if in a daze for a moment, as if reaching out in a fog to touch something.
Then he smiled, small and tired.
"It just… feels nice."
You knelt beside him, near enough that you could smell the sweet metallic scent of his body, the rain still clinging to his clothing.
"It's the first one that you ever sang to me."
He didn't reply. Sat there looking at you, dazed but unruffled, as if you were reciting a fairy tale you weren't quite certain you had lived.
"I wish that I could recall," he whispered.
And you wanted it as well.
Over the coming nights, the city unraveled.
The curfew sirens wailed through theempty streets.
Vehicles traversed the streets to gather the "volunteers" for the Reset program.
The others hid in the shadows, huddled around what they had retained of themselves.
Seokmin stopped going outside.
He had spent hours on the floor among shreds of paper — all that he was, set down in imperfect penmanship.
Your name.
His songs.
The color of the river.
The timbre that your laughter assumes in the rain.
A couple of the letters had already run together.
One night, as the sirens were especially loud, he crept across the floor to you, placing a balled-up piece of paper in your hand.
"Promise me," he whispered.
You unfolded it. It was your name, written over and over again — letters shaky but desperate.
"Promise me," he repeated. "That if I forget, you'll remind me."
You shook your head. "Don't—"
“Please.”
His eyes were too wide, too wet, too open. Hated the way that he told it. As though he knew already that he was losing. You leaned your forehead to his and nodded, breaking speech.
"I promise." And in that tiny apartment, with the world tearing itself apart outside, you made a promise to a boy who was already slipping through your fingers.
The following morning, he woke up and could no longer remember what your favorite meal was. You laughed. He laughed along with you. But when the sirens echoed again, you realized something cold: You'd need to begin reminding him each day. And one day, he won't believe you anymore.
The one thing that Seokmin forgot was your favorite meal.
The last that he forgot was your face.
It didn't all happen at once.
No—loss never does. It creeps up like fog. It seeps through the cracks, soft at the beginning, almost benevolent. By the time you realize the chill, it's within your bones.
The Reset had yet to begin—not technically. Eidens, though, was unwinding, and Seokmin along with it. Every day, he wrote still one more bit of himself on those tiny pieces of paper as if words might hold together what memories might not.
Your name. His song. The river. The laugh.
Day to day, words ran together. The ink bled with the moisture, smudging with unsteady hands that no longer recognized what they held.
It happened on the 5th day that one could no longer hold a cup.
On the 6th, he forgot the smell of your shampoo.
On the 7th, he forgot the reason why the view of you made his chest feel warm.
The eighth day, he looked at you as if you were the final page of a novel that he could not read.
"Good morning," you whispered, raking his soaked hair back from his eyes. He blinked slowly, pupils dilating as if to attempt to clear his vision.
"Morning," he said again, hushed. There wasn't any strength to it. No warmth.
You waited for the smile that always followed. There wasn't one.
"How did you sleep?" you inquired.
He cocked his head to the side. "Yah… uh." He stopped, a thin crease between his eyebrows. "I'm sorry, I—who are you again?"
The words were quiet. Like an apology.
Similar to the noise of something breaking in two.
You laughed. Too loud. Too cutting. "Very funny, Seokmin."
He scowled. "Seokmin," he said slowly, as if savoring the word as if tasting it for the very first time. "That's… me?.”
Your hands turned cold. The air grew quiet.
The world beyond the city was devastated—sirens blaring, fire climbing up the horizon—but none of that mattered as long as the way that he said it to me, as if he no longer had any idea where the word began or ended.
You took the papers off the bed, your own writing trembled. "See, see, you wrote these. All this. There, you wrote my name. There, you wrote "you love me."
He took the papers away from you with the greatest delicacy, as if they were glass. Eyes scanned each word, lips pronouncing sounds that he could not understand.
Then he gazed up at you.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I don't… I don't know who you are."
As if drowning in silence.
You wanted to scream, I’m right here.
You wished to shake him to regain his memories in proper order.
But the truth was cruel and steady:
This wasn't betrayal. This was erasing.
You sat next to him, trembling as you clasped his hands. "I'm Y/N," you said quietly. "I'm the one that waited with you as the city burned. The one that you sang to as the lights went out. The one that loves you."
He stared at you as though you were conversing in a foreign language.
“Why will someone love me?" he whispered. "I don't even know who I am.".
And that was the moment something inside you cracked—not loud like glass, but soft like paper tearing in half.
You discovered him that night standing at the window. The rain slid along the panes, staining the city in bands of dwindling light. The hum in the air—just a sound, tuneless, formless. Not a memory.
You knelt next to him, your cheek on his shoulder as you always had. He didn't stiffen away. He didn't lean in, though.
"Do you trust me?" you whispered.
He looked at you for what seemed like an eternity. And then he nodded, slowly. "I don't know why. But yeah… Well, I guess I do."
That would have to be enough. Outside, Eidens lamented as the Great Reset commenced. In the article, Seokmin had the last piece of paper—the piece that had your name—and didn't recognize you. You still came, though. Because even if he forgot, you won't.
The Reset started with the rain sound.
Not soft rain. Stinging rain that hits the ground — big, cold drops that thud off the shattered pavement as if to awaken the city.
But Eidens doesn’t wake anymore. It just shakes. Trembles. Dies a little quieter each day.
The sirens began at dawn.
A single tone at first, thin as a blade, sliding through the empty streets. Then more — layer upon layer — until it sounded like the sky itself was screaming.
You and Seokmin crouched in the apartment corner, knees to chests, shoulders to peeling paint. His scraps of paper lay scattered around the floor in broken supplications. Some were soaked. Some stuck to the soles of your shoes if you stepped.
They had already taken most people.
The "volunteers" were gone. The resistance was quiet. And the remaining sound that could be heard was the rain and the sirens and Seokmin mumbling a name that didn't belong to anyone — yours.
"I see this name everywhere," he whispered, turning one of the strips of the material over in his shivering hands. "Y/N."
Your chest hurt. "That's me."
He blinked. "You?"
Yes.
He looked at the letters again, mouth moving silently as if to reconcile them with something in himself. There was nothing to reconcile. Only an empty room where you used to live within him.
“Why is it bothering me to look at it?" he whispered.
Because once, you were his whole world. Because once, he loved you with all his might that it carved your name on his bones.
Since the wound is not cured with forgetfulness — it is concealed.
The loudspeakers cracked above the city.
"Phase One Activated. Citizens instructed to surrender to Collection Units. Memory Restoration will produce a cleaner, safer Eidens."
A lie dressed in sterilized language.
There would be no restoration. Just silence.
You gradually rose, stiff knees, thudding heart that you could feel at the back of your throat. "We need to go."
Seokmin tilted his head like a lost child. “Where?”
"Anywhere. Just—out of here.”
He did not protest. But as you go to take his hand, he stopped. Not because he did not believe you. But because he no longer recognized you.
Nevertheless, your hands moved into his, awkward and hesitant. The manner in which one stranger touches another stranger.
The streets ran with neon and rain.
The Collection Units — featureless white sanitary vans — moved as a slow tide rounding up individuals into their vans. No screams. No struggles. Only quiet submission. People had gotten too tired to fight.
When you went by the burned Exchange booth, Seokmin stumbled. His eyes caught a blackened keyboard half-hidden in the ashes. His own. The one that used to spell your name in tune.
He knelt patiently, his fingertips tracing the blackened keys.
"They are birds?" he whispered.
"Used to play," you whispered. "Every night."
He scowled. "Why can't I recall?.”
Because they've already taken more than you imagined.
Because they're not rebalancing the world.
They’re unmaking it.
When the first drone whizzed by, its searchlight boring through the rain, you brought Seokmin into the blackness of a destroyed shop. He didn't complain, but stared at you with wide, unmoored eyes.
"They'll find us," he said.
"Not if we stay the course."
"Why are you helping me?
The question froze you mid-breath.
"Because I love you," you had said. And then quietly, so softly the rain took the words away: "Even if you don't remember."
He tried to speak, but nothing issued from his lips. Because love becomes hard to hold onto once it loses a name.
When the trucks came, the ground trembled.
Papers flew from your apartment window far above like a storm of desperate snow — Seokmin’s scraps, his entire life, scattered into the rain.
He looked up, as his memories fell. Not with fear. But with something worse. Detachment.
You took his wrist and ran.
And behind you, the city loudspeakers repeated the same phrase over and over, as if reciting the lullaby of the god of static:
“Memory is a burden. Let us lift it.”
The two of you cowered under a bridge that night, drenched to the bone, clinging to the last dry piece of paper. This one wasn't your name either.
It was his. Seok. He read the letters as if they did not belong to him. "Whose are these?" he asked. Your throat closed. “You.” But the way he flinched told you the world had already taken too much.
The Reset has no sirens.
It arrives with silence.
The kind of silence that presses against your lungs, weighty, waiting, intentional. You're familiar with the screams, the announcements, the metal voice around every corner reminding you that forgetting is clemency.
But now it's nothing.
And nothing is worse.
Seokmin is seated by the bridge's edge, his feet suspended above the black water. His hair clings to his forehead, wet from yet another blistering downpour. His face is gentle, near-serene, as if the tempest raging inside him has finally exhausted itself.
Storms do not rage all the time. They pass. or consume all.
You're up.
You can feel it.
It begins small − like it has for him.
A word goes. Then a date. Then a name of a street that you have walked a thousand times.
And when you look at your hands again, your hands are no longer your hands.
"You're cold," I say to him gently and hug him around the waist.
Your voice cracks like the bridge that's over you.
He doesn't flinch anymore. He doesn't even smile. He just turns his head a bit, misty eyes filled by the gravity of a name that he no longer owns.
"I don't remember you," he says softly. Not mean. Not shattered. Simply a fact.
It hurts worse than a scream would.
You lean your cheek against his shoulder. "That's alright. I remember you."
Because once upon a time in a light-broken kitchen, he laughed till the end of the world seemed possible. Because he kissed you as though warmth were boundless.
Since love is illogical.
It’s stubborn.
The Reset hits harder that night.
You're navigating the destruction of Eidens by the light of a small flashlight and a shaking heart. Seokmin walks behind you in silence, a ghost bound to a world he doesn't know.
A familiar sign that you know your whole life looms in front of you at the corner — "District 07 // Central Gate" — but the letters blur together when you glance.
You blink. Once. Twice.
The words vanish.
Seokmin observes. "What occurred
You grit your head. "I don't… I don't know where this is."
It’s the first time you see fear flicker in his empty eyes.
He stands up and walks towards you hesitantly. "Hey," he whispers. "Hey, look at me."
You do. For even if his name is forgotten, his voice still has a way of finding you.
The Reset doesn't remove the memory.
It strips meaning. It peels away everything that made this place home.
The streets become anonymous.
The people turn faceless.
And you — you start to turn hollow.
Once again, back under the bridge, your breath mists in the cold. Your fingers tremble while holding onto your chest. The beats are unfamiliar now, a stranger's beat having been stitched inside you.
Seokmin is in the blackness by your side, closer than he once was. He doesn't recall why he needs to be by your side. But he remains. There's nothing but instinct anymore.
“You're forgetting," he whispers.
“I know”
“What happens…. when you forget me too?.”
You swallow. "I don't think I can."
He looks at you as if he doesn't believe it—and as if he does.
Hours blend together. Or perhaps it's days. The sky never shifts anymore. Only infinite gray.
You wake in the dark of night, but your name has slipped your mind.
Not your body. Not your face. Just your name.
You attempt to utter it but lips move through empty space.
You laugh. It's a terrible sound.
Seokmin leaps to his feet. "What happened?"
"I… I don't know who I am anymore."
Panic skitters in his eyes for a second. Then something soft moves in its place — something wordless. He reaches for you, and this time you don't have to guide him. His hand finds your own without a second thought.
No histories. No names. Nothing but the configuration of two palms together like a touch of muscle memory.
You tilt your forehead against his, just as you've always done — although both of you are unable to remember when "always" commenced.
The world outside has been erased, street by street. In the house, the final two human beings in Eidens hold a love that has no words anymore.
“What if we disappear too?" you query softly. He shuts his eyes. "Then… we'll vanish together." And for once in a long time, the quiet doesn't sound menacing. It simply sounds exhausting. As in a novel approaching its final page.
Dokyeom's love is like the morning rays that come through your window first thing in the morning. The light that makes you cover your eyes at first but slowly engulfs you in its warmth. You hesitate at first. You think it's too good to be true, but as you slowly start to give in to that warmth, you won't be able to stop. Dokyeom's love is like a mattress you fall on after an exhausting day.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
you were a regular at the cafe seokmin worked at. he’s had a crush on you ever since you came in for the first time months ago.
today, he finally worked up the courage to ask you out. except he made a teeny tiny mistake of asking you out on a play date for your dogs instead of a date with just you.
another mistake? he doesn’t even own a dog.
“can i borrow latte?” seokmin asks soonyoung the minute he walks into his friend’s apartment. “my… dog?” soonyoung questions, unsure if he’d heard the question correctly.
“no, your cup of coffee. yes your dog!” seokmin exclaims sarcastically. “but why?” soonyoung furrows his eyebrows.
“i may or may not have set up a date with a girl i met at a cafe,” he starts to explain. “good for you man,” soonyoung grins, patting his shoulder.
“except it’s less of a date for us and more of a play date for our dogs,” seokmin finishes as soonyoung just stares at him blankly.
“so you set up a date for your nonexistent dog,” soonyoung repeats. “i know i sound insane–” seokmin starts. “I’m surprised you didn’t go buy a dog,” soonyoung says.
“can i borrow latte or not?” he sighs. “if it’ll help your love life,” soonyoung smirks a little. “but you owe me big time.” he adds.
a couple days later, you meet at the dog park, letting your dogs get acquainted while you and seokmin sat on the bench, starting to get to know each other.
you start talking about your dogs, asking him questions about latte: when he got her, why’d he choose the name latte, etc.
seokmin felt like he was sweating, trying to come up with lies to answer your questions. he felt bad for lying but he wanted to go out with you so bad that the only way he thought of bonding over you was your pets. well, your real pet and his borrowed dog.
the entire time you chatted, his brain was screaming “that’s not even your dog!!!” at him but he didn’t want to confess his stupid lie just yet.
“hey, a new cafe opened close by if you want to get a quick bite? i hear they have some dog friendly treats so our pups can have something too,” you suggest.
“that sounds like a great idea,” he agrees with a smile.
you walk to the cafe, both of your dogs walking ahead of you on their leashes. your hand brushes against his a few times and seokmin fights the urge to intertwine your fingers.
even after spending nearly two hours at the cafe, neither of you were ready to part just yet.
“you’ve got to be one of the most charming guys I’ve ever gone out with,” you laugh as you walk along the sidewalk, not really having a destination in mind.
“oh so this is a date? i thought this was just a play date for our dogs?” he teases. “you saying you don’t want this to be a date?” you gasp. “no i definitely like the idea of this being a date,” he smiles.
“so much that I’m not ready for it to end,” he admits. “well, we’re not too far from my place… how about a drink? i don’t think latte’s ready to say goodbye either,” you nod towards the two dogs walking ahead.
the dogs run off as soon as you take their leashes off in your apartment while you lead seokmin to your living room.
he takes a seat on your couch while you step into the kitchen to grab two beers.
your conversations continue naturally, your topics going all over the place. neither of you notice it but you keep moving closer to each other.
seokmin brushes a stray hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. his eyes glance down at your lips before you lean in, waiting for him to close the gap.
his lips move softly against yours, his hand cradling the back of your head to deepen the kiss. when he hears a bark from the other room, he suddenly remembers what led to his current position.
“okay i really need to confess something before this goes any further,” seokmin sighs, pulling away from your lips.
“uh oh. are you gonna tell me you’re a serial killer?” you tease. “okay it’s not that bad,” he chuckles. “so what’s the confession?” you hum.
“latte isn’t exactly… mine,” he says and you’re silent for a second. “oh my god, you kidnapped a dog? that might be worse than a serial killer,” you gasp.
“what? no! no, no! i didn’t kidnap her, I’m just borrowing her!” he quickly exclaims. “i’ve kinda had a crush on you for months and i fucked up when i asked you out only to make it a play date for our dogs,” he explains sheepishly.
“except you don’t have a dog, apparently,” you say, clearly amused with the situation. “i know, i know. i fucked up,” he sighs.
“it’s okay, i forgive you,” you hum, leaning in close again. “i kinda have a crush on you too. besides, you kidnapped a dog just to take me out on a date,” you tease, kissing him as he groans.
do you remember the kid you pretend-married on the playground? it would be nice to know how he's doing, right?
ⓘ part of my how is your youth? mini-series. includes: childhood friends, tooth-rotting fluff, pet names.
Lee Seokmin, musical theater actor. 27 years old.
👤 When you think of your youth, what do you think of?
⚔️ That assumes that my youth is over! [laughs] If we're talking about my childhood, well, that one was good. I was a happy kid. I associate that time of my youthfulness with the rain.
👤 A lot of people think the rain is a bad thing.
⚔️ Yeah, I guess! The rain can be pretty bad. But my wife— sorry, force of habit— [giggles, clears throat] my girlfriend and I met on a rainy day. So maybe that's why I have such fond memories of it. Say, have you heard about the first rain of May?
👤 I can't say I have, no.
⚔️ Right, so, there's this belief that the first rain of May has healing properties. Everyone who showers in that rain is said to find luck.
👤 And that's when you met your girlfriend?
⚔️ [giggles] Yes, that's when I met her. The first rain of May. I guess that means she's my healing and my luck, huh? Going back to your question— to me, my youth is rain-soaked love. One that perseveres and remains certain. In a way, I guess you could say... [falters]
👤 I could say...?
⚔️ She's going to laugh at me when she hears this. But it's true.
👤 That?
⚔️ She's my youth. All of it. But, most importantly— she's what I still have and want in the present. And isn't that worth weathering any storm for?
↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ so cool by day 6. ribs by lorde. where'd all the time go? by dr. dog. audition (the fools who dream) by emma stone. stubborn love by the lumineers.
› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao
