#emowoo

Daeyoung, king of beanbags, lifted his soda can in lazy triumph. "That's right. Twenty bucks, Lee Chenle. Hand it over—with interest."

"This is highway robbery," Chenle groaned, clutching his chest. "I bet against the possibility of Park Jisung being domesticated, okay? The kid's married to hockey and existential crises!"

"Should've known," YangYang said with his head resting on Lena's lap on the long couch in the middle of the living room, half-asleep and still somehow smirking. "Hockey players always get the girls."

Johnny appeared from the kitchen, chip bag in hand, like he'd been summoned. "It's not just hockey. Swimmers too."

"Yeah, but you're tall," Hendery called out. "That's cheating."

The laughter rippled through the room, loud and bright. It was the kind of noise that could make the walls vibrate.

So when the front door clicked open, no one noticed at first. Not until Kun's calm voice cut through from his spot by the counter—"Shoes off at the door, please"—and I stepped in.

Crossbody bag slung across my chest, head slightly bowed—I must've looked quiet. Too quiet.

The noise stumbled. Chenle blinked, spotted me, and immediately perked up. "There he is! The man of the hour!" he shouted, leaping off the couch. "Our little prodigy who apparently has a girlfriend."

Daeyoung groaned from his beanbag, holding out his hand. "Pay up, Chenle."

"Absolutely not!" Chenle shrieked, digging for excuses. "We said alleged girlfriend—there were no confirmed sightings!"

"Bro," Johnny interrupted with his mouth full of chips. "We saw her at orientation. You literally screamed, 'She's real!'"

"I was in shock!" Chenle cried.

"Pay up," Daeyoung said again, smug as sin.

Chenle collapsed dramatically onto the couch. "This is betrayal. Betrayal by my best friend, love and capitalism!"

The laughter swelled, and even I felt my lips twitch—barely. Normally, I'd throw a pillow at Chenle's head or drag Renjun into a side bet just for the chaos. But tonight, my hands stayed buried in my pockets, and my eyes didn't quite shine the same way.

I crossed the room quietly, dropping my bag by the couch and sitting down in the corner, shoulders curving inward. The noise went on for a beat too long before it started to thin, the air shifting as everyone noticed at once.

Lena tilted her head first, concern flickering. "Hey, you okay?"

I looked quietly ahead, elbows on my knees. "I met her ex tonight," I said finally. My voice barely rose above the hum of the fridge.

That did it. The room froze—mid-sip, mid-joke, mid-argument.

Renjun blinked from where he was upside-down on the sofa. "...Her ex?"

"Already?" Riku wondered, he looked equally as shocked, as if said the words out loud without meaning to.

"Yeah." My hands clasped together, the tendons on my knuckles pale. "I don't even think I've seen the dude before on campus. He looked at me like... like he wasn't going anywhere. Like he's still part of her life, whether I like it or not."

The words left a bitter taste in my mouth the moment I said them. Maybe I shouldn't have—maybe saying it out loud made it too real. The way he'd looked at you—at us—it crawled under my skin. Not threatening, not openly hostile, but that quiet kind of familiarity that makes you feel like you're standing outside of something you thought you belonged in.

And I hated that it got to me. Because you'd looked at me that same night, eyes wide and soft, and told me you were mine. You told me not to worry. You told me it was over, that he was over.

And I believed you. God, I wanted to believe you.

But it was one of those moments where trust isn't a switch—it's a decision you keep making, over and over, even when your stomach knots itself.

For a moment, no one knew what to do with that. The frat was used to noise, to sarcasm, to beer-soaked pep talks—not to this kind of heaviness hanging between us.

"Damn," Xiaojun, who had been quiet all this time, muttered from the floor, breaking the silence. "That's rough."

"Yeah," Johnny agreed, softer now, chips forgotten. "That's not easy, kid."

Chenle, uncharacteristically subdued, crouched down beside the couch. "What did she say?"

I exhaled, pressing a hand to the back of my neck. "She told me not to worry. That she's with me. But...what if that's not enough? What if I'm not enough?"

The silence that followed cracked something open in the room. Even Renjun's phone slid from his hand onto the rug, forgotten.

I rubbed at my chest, as if I could ease the weight there. Because underneath the fear, beneath the jealousy, there was this raw, unbearable ache—the kind that comes from wanting someone so much it scared you.

I wanted to hold onto you. To keep that soft, sleepy look you gave me when we woke up tangled in each other that morning. To memorize the way you said my name like it meant something.

But the thought of losing it—losing you—even before I'd had the chance to figure out how to deserve it... it hollowed me out.

You had this way of making me feel like I wasn't just some guy who played hockey and hid behind sarcasm when life got too real. You looked at me like I was worth choosing. And tonight, standing in front of him—your past—it had rattled me because I saw what you used to love. And for a second, I wondered if I could ever measure up to what you'd already given your heart to once before.

Kun shifted against the counter, watching me quietly. "You're spiraling, Jisung," he said gently.

"I know." My laugh came out small, frayed at the edges. "I just... I can't stop thinking about it. She's perfect. She's—" My throat tightened. "She's everything. And me? I'm just—me. A guy who spends half his time on the ice and the other half pretending he's not terrified of screwing this up."

Because the truth was, you didn't scare me because of your past—you scared me because you made me care. You made me imagine after. You made me want things I hadn't dared to before.

YangYang, ever the one to stab through tension with blunt humor, leaned back and said, "If you're not enough, then the rest of us should just give up. Like, pack it up, game over. We'll all go live in the woods."

Lena swatted his shoulder, but her expression was soft as she reached over to squeeze my hand. "She chose you," she said, firm but kind. "Not her past, not her ex, you. That's what matters."

My fingers twitched beneath hers. The noise in my chest eased—barely, but enough.

And she was right. You had chosen me. You looked at me the way people don't look at someone they plan to leave. I could still feel it—the warmth of your hand on my mine earlier in the night, your assuring words, "I promise you, it doesn't" the small tremor in your voice that made me believe it wasn't just comfort, but truth.

Hendery leaned dramatically over the coffee table, smirking. "And if the ex tries to walk back in, we'll fight him. Frat versus ex-boyfriend. I call first swing."

"Sit down before you break another lamp," Kun warned.

That, mercifully, broke the tension. Laughter crashed back into the room, rough and too loud.

Mark groaned into a pillow. "I can't believe I haven't even met her yet. All this drama, and I'm missing the main character!"

"Because you're never around," Renjun shot back without missing a beat.

"Because some of us actually study," Mark retorted.

"Lies," Johnny said, still wielding his chip bag like a gavel. "Court is in session. All testimony goes through me."

"You're not the judge!" Chenle pointed dramatically. "You're the problem!"

"The system is corrupt!" Daeyoung cried, waving his twenty-dollar bill.

"You won the bet!" Chenle howled. "How are you oppressed right now?"

"Emotionally," Daeyoung replied with a grin.

The room erupted again—laughs overlapping, Hendery's ridiculous sound effects echoing under it all. Even Riku was doubled over, clutching his stomach.

And through it, I sat back, letting the noise roll over me. My smile came slow this time, small and real. The fear hadn't vanished completely—Jungwoo's face still hovered at the edges of my mind, smug and certain—but it didn't feel as heavy anymore. Not with Chenle whining about interest rates, not with Lena's hand still brushing my sleeve, not with my brothers filling the room with ridiculous life.

I looked quietly ahead, gaze tracing the warm clutter of the house—the flicker of the cheap lamp, the scuff marks on the wall, the half-eaten chips on the counter—and something in me loosened.

The doubts were still there, but softer now. Bearable. Because even when love got messy and uncertain, even when fear whispered too loud, I wasn't alone in it.

And for tonight, that was enough.

Enough to breathe, to laugh, to trust. Enough to remind myself that sometimes, holding on meant choosing not to run.

And I was choosing you. Even through the fear, I was choosing you.

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