#intak fluff

it thudded through your chest, vibrated through your ribs, wrapped around you in flashing strobes and neon haze. the lights caught the shine of your leather shorts immediately, bouncing off the fabric every time you shifted your weight.

you looked unreal.

the dark lace-up corset hugged you perfectly, metal studs lining the seams and neckline like armour. the crisscross lacing at the front dipped just low enough to be dangerous — a deliberate tease. It sculpted your waist, accentuated every curve, made you look untouchable and inviting all at once.

your black leather micro shorts sat high on your hips, sleek and unapologetic. over-the-knee stiletto boots lengthened your legs impossibly, pointed toes sharp enough to match your energy. gold layered chains rested against your collarbones, catching the light every time you moved. a small black handbag dangled from your wrist — effortless, put together, intentional.

your hair fell long and straight down your back, glossy and precise, half pulled up with delicate braided detail at the crown. it gave you height, elegance, and just enough attitude. your makeup was soft but bold — warm blush, defined eyes, and lip liner shaping your mouth into something plush and irresistible.

you didn’t just look good.

you looked sinful.

you and your girls rarely had nights like this anymore. final year of college had swallowed most of your time. assignments, deadlines, internships — everything felt heavy lately. buy tonight was different. aaliyah had insisted.

“we deserve to feel hot,” she’d said.

and she was right.

you weren’t here solely to find someone to take home — though none of you were opposed to the idea. you were here to feel alive again. to let the music loosen your spine and the alcohol warm your blood.

and that’s exactly what you did.

the four of you claimed space at the bar first. shot glasses lined up quickly, then emptied just as fast. two of your friends abandoned the stools soon after, already tugging each other toward the dance floor.

you and aaliyah stayed behind, lingering.

empty glasses sat between you like a quiet dare.

“girl,” she breathed, staring at you openly. “we look insane.”

you laughed, shoulders shaking. “we do. why don’t we do this more?”

she started to respond — then stopped. her eyes drifted just over your shoulder.

“dont look yet,” she murmured, leaning closer, fingers tapping lightly against your knee. “but there are two very sexy men behind you.”

you turned anyway.

two guys stood at the bar not far away. One leaned casually against it, beer in hand, black button-up slightly open at the collar. Confident. Relaxed. The other stood beside him, dressed in a loose blue shirt and camo trousers, a cap shadowing part of his blonde hair. He was laughing — softer, more reserved.

Aaliyah didn’t hesitate. She slid off her stool and tugged you with her. You didn’t fight it. The alcohol had already blurred the line between bold and reckless.

“Hi,” she greeted brightly.

The man in black straightened, giving you both a slow smile. “Hey.”

Up close, they were even better looking.

Names were exchanged. Keeho and Intak, they had said. Aaliyah and Keeho clicked instantly, their energy bouncing between them. You introduced yourself calmly, and when you glanced toward the quieter one — Intak — you realised he’d been watching you the entire time.

Not in a crude way.

In a curious one.

He smiled when you met his eyes.

“You look… really beautiful,” he said carefully. His accent was soft, his words deliberate.

Something about the effort made your stomach flip.

“Thank you,” you replied, tilting your head slightly. “You look really nice too.”

He admitted his English wasn’t perfect. You leaned closer without thinking, drawn in by the way he concentrated on every sentence.

“Korea,” he said when you asked where he was from.

Your eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

He nodded, still smiling like he couldn’t quite believe you were standing there talking to him.

Drinks multiplied. Conversations blurred into laughter. The four of you melted into something easy and electric.

Eventually, the dance floor called.

You pulled them with you.

Music wrapped around your body again, louder now, thicker. At some point, you found yourself pressed back against Intak. His hands settled on your waist cautiously at first — like he wasn’t sure he was allowed.

You moved anyway.

Slow, controlled, deliberate.

Your back brushed against his chest. Your hips rolled subtly to the rhythm, close enough to feel his breathing shift. His grip tightened — not possessive, just reactive. You didn’t give him space. Not really.

And he didn’t ask for any.

The world shrank. Lights flickered over skin and sweat. The crowd moved around you, but it didn’t matter. There was a heat building between you — alcohol-fuelled, yes, but not entirely.

When you finally returned to the bar, flushed and breathless, more drinks followed.

Somewhere across the room, Aaliyah and Keeho disappeared into their own haze.

You stayed seated on a stool, Intak standing between your legs, hands braced lightly on your hips to steady you. Or maybe to steady himself.

You didn’t overthink it.

You pulled him down by the collar.

The kiss wasn’t hesitant.

It was messy and warm and charged with everything you’d been holding back on the dance floor. His hands moved across your sides, your fingers tangling at the nape of his neck. The club roared around you, but all you could hear was your own pulse.

The rest of the night dissolved into fragments — exchanged numbers, one last lingering kiss outside while waiting for your ride, promises to text.

You expected it to end there.

It didn’t.

Because the next morning, there was a message.

And then another the day after that.

You learned he was part of a K-pop group who were in the city for a concert. That he and Keeho had stayed behind at the club while the others went for food. That he almost hadn’t come to the club at all.

You learned he loved choreography. That he sent voice notes when he was tired. That he always told you before he went live so you could watch. That he’d call you afterwards, even when it was late.

What started as drunken heat became something slower. Softer. Intentional.

You sent him photos of your campus between classes. He sent you snippets of practice rooms and unfinished dances. One of his songs turned into ten. Ten turned into full albums. Soon, his group sat at the top of your music apps week after week.

And somehow, six months later, he was still there.

Still texting.

Still calling.

Still living quietly in the back of your mind — impossible to shake.

And once again, you found yourself thinking about that first night.

About the bass.

About the way he looked at you like you were something unreal.

It was a random Friday in September.

Summer was clinging on by its fingertips, but the air had shifted. There was something cooler in it now. Something slower. Autumn creeping in quietly.

You were curled up on your dorm bed, phone in your hand, the low hum of your roommates talking in the kitchen drifting under your door. Every few seconds your screen lit up as you checked it again, waiting.

For a simple text.

I’m here.

Outside.

From your favourite person.

Hwang Intak.

He was back in New York for an event — schedules, press, appearances — and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been counting down the days. Months of FaceTimes, voice notes, late night calls across time zones—and now he was finally here.

You still hadn’t labelled whatever this was.

Situationship. That was the safest word.

But it didn’t feel casual. Not when he sent you selfies between rehearsals. Not when you streamed every comeback like it was your personal responsibility. Not when his voice softened every time he said your name.

Music videos and new albums had dropped recently, and each one only reminded you how unfairly gorgeous he was. Not that he didn’t remind you himself — constantly.

The click of your dorm’s front door snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Y/N,” your roommate called, barely hiding her smirk, “your boyfriend’s here.”

You were already moving.

You swung your door open and hurried to the entrance — and there he was.

For a second, you just stared.

He looked different from the last time you’d seen him in person. You’d noticed it in photos, of course. In livestreams. In performances.

But in front of you?

It hit harder.

He was wearing a fitted blue shirt with a turquoise logo across the chest, the fabric clinging slightly to his shoulders. Jeans. Trainers. Casual. Effortless. His hair was brown now, softer than the blonde he’d had when you first met.

Cute.

You didn’t think. You just moved.

You launched yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck. He caught you easily, laughing softly as his arms slid around your waist, pulling you in tight.

“Hi,” he murmured, burying his face in your neck.

You felt his smile against your skin.

“Hi, pretty boy.”

His grip tightened at that.

The warmth of his bare arms against the strip of exposed skin between your white tank top and low grey sweats sent a shiver up your spine. He pressed a small, lingering kiss to your neck before you pulled him toward your room.

The door closed.

And suddenly the world felt smaller.

Soon, you were straddling his lap on your bed, his back against the headboard, your legs wrapped around his waist. His arms circled you securely, like he needed you physically close to believe you were real.

Your head rested in the crook of his neck. His chin settled on top of your head.

You fit there.

Perfectly.

Like you’d always belonged in that space.

His fingers traced lazy patterns against your waist, pulling you closer even though there was barely space left between you.

But something felt different.

It wasn’t the comfortable quiet you shared on calls — the kind where neither of you needed to speak. This quiet felt heavier.

Thicker.

Like words were stuck somewhere in his throat.

You lifted your head slowly. He looked down at you, confusion flickering across his face — or maybe he was just caught off guard by how closely you were studying him.

God, he looked adorable like that.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly, your fingers drifting to the small hairs at the nape of his neck.

He nodded almost instantly. “I’m okay. Are you?”

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “You’re quieter than usual. Like—maybe there’s something you want to tell me?”

He shook his head.

But there it was.

A hesitation.

Small.

So small you almost missed it.

Almost.

You rested your head against his chest again, arms tightening around his torso.

“Okay,” you murmured. “But if you’re ever upset. Or annoyed. Or just feel like crying. Please talk to me.”

He exhaled.

A long breath against your hair.

Then a sniff.

Your head snapped up.

His eyes were glassy now. His lips pressed into a pout like he was physically fighting himself.

“Intak,” you whispered, cupping his cheeks gently. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s okay,” he said quickly, sniffing again — trying so hard to keep it together.

But his voice betrayed him.

“Be honest with me,” you said softly, searching his eyes. Letting him see that this was safe. That you were safe.

He tipped his head back toward the ceiling, blinking rapidly.

The tears fell anyway.

“I’m just… really overwhelmed lately,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “With the comeback. The new events. We’re getting more popular and everything feels bigger and louder and I don’t get to see you.”

The words came out rushed, like they’d been trapped inside him for weeks.

“Oh, Intak…”

There was something unbearably tender about the way he tried to hold it in. Like crying in front of you was the hardest part.

You gently drew his head down to yours, his eyes rimmed red and his cheeks still damp with tears.

You kissed the tip of his nose. Then his left cheek. Then his right. Your lips brushed away the dampness on his skin.

He let out a shaky breath.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked gently.

“I didn’t want to ruin our time,” he whispered. “We barely see each other. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

More tears slipped down.

You wiped them away with your thumbs.

“Always tell me,” you said firmly but softly. “Even if you’re mad. Or stressed. Or exhausted. I want you to communicate with me. It’s okay to feel like this.”

He leaned into your touch like he’d been waiting for permission.

“’M sorry,” he murmured.

“You don’t have to apologise,” you replied. “You’re never too much for me. I might not fully understand what it’s like to live your life — but I can try. And I want to.”

That made him look at you.

Really look at you.

The same way he had six months ago in that club. Like you were something unreal. Like he couldn’t believe you were his.

Something in his expression shifted — softer, deeper.

Then he pulled you into him again, burying his face in your neck, arms tightening around you like you were the only stable thing in his world.

And you let him.

You held him just as tight.

Your fingers ran slowly through his hair as he breathed you in, grounding himself in your warmth. The room was quiet again — but this time it felt safe. Not heavy.

Just the two of you tangled together on a random Friday in September.

And neither of you moved for a long, long time.

i. grown ass men btw

ii. trust you will be dealt with

iii. hanging with an old friend

iv. random-2 , intak-0

Your phone was high in the air, recording everything.

Then it buzzed.

You almost ignored it.

Almost.

The notification dropped down from the top of your screen.

I want to break up.

Your brain didn’t understand it at first. The bass kept going, people kept jumping, the boys were still right there—

—but everything sounded far away, like you’d been shoved underwater.

Your heart stopped, the roar of the arena collapsing into a distant, muffled hum.

The lights still flashed. People still screamed. The bass still rattled through the floor beneath your trainers.

But for you, everything had slowed to a horrible, floating silence.

Tears burned at the backs of your eyes. You tried to blink them away, tried to swallow them down, tried to remind yourself where you were — front row, your favourite group, the tickets your mum had surprised you with for your birthday.

Not here.

Not now.

But your body betrayed you.

One tear slipped free.

Then another.

And suddenly they were pouring, hot and unstoppable, streaking down your cheeks faster than you could wipe them away.

Your friend turned, still breathless from shouting lyrics. Her excitement dropped instantly.

“Whoa, hey—what the hell? What’s wrong?” she asked, grabbing your shoulders.

You shook your head, trying to breathe, but the air kept catching in your throat.

“He broke up with me,” you managed, voice cracking as your sleeve came up to wipe your nose.

Her face twisted in disbelief. “Are you joking?”

You could only shake your head again.

The music was still thundering, so she leaned closer, almost yelling. “Why? What happened?!”

Words failed you. Your mouth opened, but nothing came out.

So you turned your phone toward her.

Message after message.

She read, lips parting, eyebrows climbing higher the further she went. You typed back with numb fingers while she followed along, her small, angry nods urging you on.

him

I want to break up.

you

is this a joke?

what happened??

him

this isn’t working tbh

it’s weird that you’re into kpop men

you’d be mad if it was me liking other girls

you

all i do is listen to their music

i don’t understand

him

you’re supposed to be MY girlfriend

it makes me uncomfortable when you go to concerts

like they aren’t other men

and that edit account you had of that guy

you

that was before we were dating?

him

you still had it

the relationship was nice while it lasted

You stared at the screen long after the messages stopped, like maybe they’d rearrange themselves into something kinder.

They didn’t.

Heat rushed to your face — anger, humiliation, heartbreak twisting together until you felt sick.

You never thought it would end like this.

Not tonight. Not at all.

You had tried so hard.

You talked about your favourite artists less because he got jealous. You stopped editing even though your account had more than forty thousand people following it. You’d shrunk pieces of yourself down so he would never have a reason to doubt you, never feel threatened, never regret choosing you.

Because you liked him.

Because you wanted him.

Because you wanted to believe he loved you the way you loved him.

Two years. On and off, messy, complicated — but yours.

And now he was ending it with a few cold lines of text while you stood at the barrier of the concert you’d been dreaming about for months.

Your birthday present.

Tears kept falling no matter how hard you wiped them away.

You felt ridiculous. Dramatic. Embarrassing.

And worst of all, guilty.

Instead of screaming the next song with your best friend, she was stuck holding you upright while you cried.

“He’s actually horrible,” she muttered, rubbing your back. “Who does this now?”

You shook your head, a broken sound leaving you. “I don’t know.”

You wanted the floor to swallow you whole.

“Hey, breathe okay?”

You nodded, lip wobbling, trying to breathe, trying not to ruin the night, trying not to be the girl sobbing at barricade—

Too late. People were already looking.

The song ended in an explosion of cheers and flashing lights.

On stage, Keeho wiped sweat from his forehead, grinning as he caught his breath.

“So that was Flashy! Did you guys have fun?!”

The arena roared.

He laughed, about to continue, then his eyes shifted. Locked.

Right on you.

His smile dropped.

He leaned forward, squinting past the lights. “Wait—hey. Are you okay?”

Your stomach flipped.

Thousands of people turned to see who he meant.

Turned to you.

You nodded too quickly, face wet, hands trembling.

Keeho tilted his head. “No, no, you’re crying crying. What happened?”

You tried to answer. Nothing came out but a hiccup.

Your friend cupped her hands around her mouth. “HER SHITTY BOYFRIEND JUST BROKE UP WITH HER!”

The crowd gasped.

Keeho’s jaw fell open. “Excuse me?! Right now?!”

You nodded, mortified.

Behind him, the members started drifting closer, curious. Jiung already seemed to understand, eyebrows raised in sympathy, while Intak crouched near the edge of the stage, listening hard.

“How long were you together?” Keeho asked, softer.

“Two years,” you managed.

The audience let out a collective awww.

Keeho turned back in disbelief. “Two YEARS? And he chose TODAY?”

He ran a hand through his hair, offended on your behalf.

“Why?” he asked gently.

Your eyes filled again. You couldn’t say it.

So you pointed.

Straight at Intak.

Keeho blinked. “Intak??”

Intak pointed at himself, horrified. Me??

Through a shaky breath you forced the words out. “I used to have an edit account of him… before I dated my ex. He hated it.”

Another ripple of sympathy moved through the crowd.

Keeho stared at you like you’d just told him the stupidest crime in history. “That’s it??”

Then he turned, dramatic. “INTAK. LOOK WHAT YOU CAUSED.”

“I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!” Intak squeaked, half laughing, half panicking.

Keeho looked back at security. “Can we bring her up here? She cannot stay down there!”

And suddenly the barrier was opening.

Your friend was shrieking.

Your legs moved before your brain did.

The moment you stepped onto the stage, the lights hit harder, brighter, hotter. You wiped under your eyes, certain you looked like a disaster.

You barely had a second to breathe before Intak jogged toward you.

“Hi,” he said, voice small, careful, like he was approaching a scared animal.

And then he hugged you.

The contact broke whatever fragile control you had left. You folded into him, crying into his shoulder, hands gripping his white tank.

He froze for half a heartbeat—then melted, one hand warm at the back of your head.

Into the mic, Keeho let out the loudest, fondest, “Awwwww.”

The entire arena copied him.

Jiung smiled softly and spoke into his mic, “Do you have a bias?”

You lifted your head, embarrassed, tearful, breathless.

“Intak.”

The place exploded.

Intak made a tiny noise of shock, like he’d just been told he won something.

The other members whooped. Someone yelled, “He won for real!”

Your face burned.

You whispered, “I’m sorry,” dabbing at the damp mark you’d left on his bare shoulder. Muscles flexing under your touch.

He blinked. “Sorry? No, no, it’s okay! I’m okay!” he rushed, nodding fast, smile huge but worried around the edges. “Are you okay?”

You laughed shakily. “Yeah.”

Keeho suddenly clapped his hands. “Alright. We need to fix the vibe. Intak, do something cute.”

Intak looked at him like: what does that MEAN.

He panicked.

And, acting on pure instinct, leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

The arena detonated.

Intak pulled back, eyes enormous.

Keeho screamed, “I MEANT TALK TO HER, NOT MAKE A MOVE ON HER!”

The members doubled over laughing.

Intak’s eyes were even larger. “I’m sorry! I misunderstood! I’m sorry!” he told you, hands hovering like he didn’t know whether he should hug you again or evaporate.

You nodded, still stunned, smile plastered to your face. “It’s okay.”

He exhaled, relieved, then gave you one more small squeeze like he needed you to really mean it.

Keeho returned to damage control, still laughing. “Okay. New rule. Nobody date anyone who gets jealous over celebs.”

Cheers thundered. Until eventually, the crowd began to settle. The members joked among themselves, teasing Intak relentlessly.

For a moment, it felt like the attention had shifted.

And in that tiny pocket of quiet—

you felt it.

His index finger.

Grazing yours.

Light. Questioning.

You looked down.

He looked nervous, like he might pull away at any second.

“Are you going to send-off?” he asked, voice low so only you could hear.

You shook your head. “I didn’t buy it.”

His brows pulled together. “Why?”

“My ex didn’t want me to.”

He blinked.

“Ex?” he repeated, almost like he liked the sound of the word.

You nodded.

His finger hooked with yours properly this time, tentative but warm.

“Then come,” he said. “I can say I want you there.”

You smiled, heart racing. “I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to the fans who paid.”

He paused, thinking, then nodded slowly.

“Okay,” he said.

A beat.

Then, hopeful again—

“Can I see you after?”

You laughed softly. “How would that even work?”

“After the show,” he said, serious now. “Back exit. Near our dressing rooms.”

Before you could ask anything else, Keeho suddenly shouted from across the stage.

“Tonight,” he continued, pointing at you, “you’re leaving with good memories, yeah?”

You nodded.

“Good. This next song’s for you.”

The lights dimmed.

Security guided you back to your spot as the beginning notes of Fall in love again played, your best friend gripping your arms and screaming into your ear.

“WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED??” “HELLO?? You just hugged FUCKING INTAK ON STAGE??”

You barely heard her.

Because on stage, Intak kept looking at you.

Every time he passed your side, every chorus, every break—

there he was, smiling like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

And somehow, for the first time in months, your chest didn’t feel heavy.

It felt light.

Like maybe something awful had ended—

so something better could start.

you could see it from the end of the hallway, always a different color and gently fluttering in the artifical breeze from the apartment complex's air conditioning. for the last few weeks, you never knew whether or not you'd come home to a new message on your door. usually, they were scribbled on colorful sticky notes in smooth black ink, and the contrast made them impossible to ignore.

well, the contrast and the messages themselves.

you probably should have been creeped out, but they were actually kind of sweet. "you look pret-tea today," one had read, scrawled on sticky purple paper under a doodle of a tea bag. you once slammed your door closed after a particularly frustrating day. the next morning, you had found doodle of a rooster on an orange square: "just chicken in on you."

and now, as you approached your apartment, you could see a glint of baby blue flittering against the dark wood of your door. there was no pattern to follow. you could find three in one day, or you could go three days without one at all. if nothing else, this "secret admirer" kept you on your toes.

you fished into your bag, rummaging through seemingly everything you had ever owned to find your keys. your keychain jingled as you turned the key in the lock, the sound of metal on metal signaling to everyone on the floor that you were finally home. and before you could even turn the knob, the door to the apartment next to yours swung open.

like clockwork, intak leaned candidly on the chiseled wooden post of the doorframe. his black zip-up made him appear even more casual as he looked down the hallway, over your head, and at the floor, all with his lips pursed and brows furrowed in faux contemplation.

"oh, hi," intak's eyes finally landed on yours, which were visibly unimpressed by his routine performance. he was usually out here when you got home, seeking the latest scoop on your note situation. he glanced at the imaginary watch on his wrist, "you're, uh, twenty minutes later than usual. I almost thought you'd moved."

you tried not to give into his antics too much, but it was more difficult than you thought. he was undeniably charming, maybe too charming for his own good, and he had been kind enough when you first moved in to show you which staircase was the least life-threatening.

"you don't have to wait for me to get home, you know," you crossed your arms, matching his relaxed stance on your own doorframe, "you can literally just step outside and read it. its on the door."

"yeah," intak sucked his teeth, weighing his options, "but then its just weird. i'd be lurking around outside your door."

you furrowed your brows at him, partly amused but mainly curious, "and waiting until i get home to come outside and lurk is somehow less weird?"

intak opened his mouth to speak, but he immediately closed it, rubbing his jaw with his hand as he pressed his lips into a thin, defeated line. "okay i see how that would be," he paused a beat, sighing deeply, "weird."

"do you just, like, watch through the peephole for an hour?" you taunted him. the corner of your mouth pulled up into a smirk as you watched him grow increasingly defensive.

"how i know is not the point, although you do have very recognizable footsteps," intak waved his hands around as if to swipe away the current conversation, "can you just tell me what it says? i mean, first one in four days- it better be good."

you rolled your eyes at him, pushing off your doorframe to face the door itself. the blue note was stuck haphazardly at eye level, a bit crooked, and was curling up on the edges from having been pulled off a stack. you reached out and smoothed the bottom edge until it was flat against the wood grain of the door. your fingers pinned it in place as your eyes scanned the dark ink.

you felt intak's eyes burning into the side of your face as you started to read it. this one was different. "its, um," you lifted the note off the door, bringing it closer, "its a phone number."

intak leapt from his place in his own doorway and craned his neck to peer over your shoulder. "that's bold," he said, "there's not even a drawing on it."

honestly, you didn't hear a word from his mouth. you were suddenly hyper aware of how close he was, how broad his shoulders were, how the heat from his body contrasted with the harsh stream of air surging from the ac unit. your interactions had never breached a three foot distance. and you'd never been close enough to smell the sweet, woodsy cologne melted into his skin.

all at once, your mouth went dry and your knees grew weak and your palms became damp. you'd never felt this way about him before. he was just your annoying neighbor who played his music too loud after 10 pm. he slept through his alarm every morning, the buzzing of his phone and the blaring alert tone seeping through your walls again and again as he snoozed it. why even set an alarm if he was gonna sleep three extra hours?

"are you okay?" intak asked. his tone was sincere, and you realized you'd never heard him speak normally, delicately. it was always banter, always teasing.

"yeah," you breathed, crumbling the note up in your hand and stepping forward, leaving more space between the two of you. "yeah, sorry. it just got... too real, i think."

"oh," intak breathed, as he took one big stride back to his own doorway, "yeah, agreed. that was suuuuper weird to do."

out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw a frown. you thought you saw his big, brown eyes cast to the suspiciously stained carpet. you thought you saw him wipe his own palms down the thighs of his jeans.

you finally turned the knob on your door, the note still crumbled and tucked between the metal and your hand. you felt something crack somewhere deep within you, something wistful. you wouldn't miss the notes, assuming that writing their phone number was the final piece of the puzzle your admirer had been assembling. they were just paper. yes, the doodle were cute, and, yes, the messages were sweet. but you wouldn't miss them.

maybe you'd miss something else.

intak pushed open his own door, too. you watched him force his lips into a small smile as he locked eyes with you. "have a great night," he said, "if you want."

"you, too, intak," you laughed, "if you want."

but as you stepped inside your apartment and pushed the door closed behind you, something compelled you. something small and blue, scribbled with black ink. you held out your hand and opened the note back up. you could still make out the number through the hundreds of fold lines.

you flipped the paper over, and doodled on the back was an ice cube with a scribbled out attempt at a message. all you could make out was,

"if you call me."

what happened next was not your own doing. you were simply possessed by someone more confident, someone with way less to lose, as you pulled out your phone and punched in the numbers. one moment your finger was hovering over the green call button, and the next, you were hearing the dialtone.

and to your surprise, right as the droning signal began to thrum in your ear, you heard a ringtone. you put your phone down at your side, and you heard the phone ringing in the apartment next to yours.

You would have sworn that Hwang Intak’s life mission was to annoy you to hell and back. You wouldn’t have been surprised if it was on his daily to-do list to get your attention and do something stupid. Because there was no way it was all a coincidence that he always managed to show up in front of you despite being assigned to different teams and more often than not, he did something that made you roll your eyes or question what the heck he wanted to achieve.

It all started at the Renegades Trials.

People with superpowers from all over town came forward in hopes of joining the superhero organization, the Renegades that helped keep Seoul safe and worked on rebuilding it after the civil war between villains and heroes. Even though most rebels, villains, Anarchists, however you wanted to call them, went into hiding after the defeat, people still had to be on watch and be prepared. That’s what the Renegades was for: an organization to gather, train and employ people with superpowers called prodigies.

You had wanted to join them ever since Firefly had saved you from falling out of a malfunctioning ferris wheel when you had been just a kid. Back then you didn’t even have a power, it manifested later when you were in your teens with a traumatic event like in most cases and it took a while for you to understand what exactly you could do and how it worked. You could bend reality using mirrors; anybody who looked into a mirror you touched saw exactly what you wanted them to see.

You were a great distraction on the field ever since you joined the Renegades at sixteen and became Reflection. Your life had been as normal and peaceful as it could be as a superhero but then two years later, Hwang Intak showed up at the Trials. He wore his senior school uniform and a lazy smile. He had no weapon on him yet he claimed he could survive any attack sent his way. He sounded awfully confident for somebody who chose a lame alias like Undead which made you exchange an unimpressed glance with your teammate, Seoyeon.

Trials usually went like this: the applicant prodigy demonstrated their power which could be anything from turning rocks into paper cranes to reading minds or controlling fire and then the active Renegades teams could decide whether they wanted them to join their team or maybe even challenge them to show more of their skills. If nobody came forward, it was the end of the show. If multiple teams liked the applicant, then the new prodigy could choose which Renegades team they wished to join. Despite their team, every Renegade trained in the same building and was under the same system but it was an important decision because their teammates would have been their closest friends and allies from then on because they would patrol and go on missions together.

“So you say that you can’t die?” Theo (whose alias was Sharpshooter because he never missed a shot) from another team asked just as dubiously as you felt after the guy’s claim.

“Yepp.”

“But you can’t prove that without somebody here trying to pretty much kill you,” you interjected, unimpressed, and Intak turned towards you, his twinkling brown eyes finding yours for the first time as he pulled his mouth into a smirk.

“I guess. But no hard feelings, I promise,” he shrugged, looking at you so challengingly that you wished you could have wiped that look off his face.

“We will take him,” Keeho (aka Timeturner because he could go back in time by 5 minutes but couldn’t change anything, just observe) stood up from his booth after a brief pause, which took everybody by surprise.

“But you don’t even know if what he says is true,” you argued because it just didn’t make sense to you to take in somebody with no evidence while people who had less ‘useful’ powers like excellent smell that they could prove had been rejected before.

“Well no, but who would be stupid enough to claim that knowing that they would be most likely sent for deadly missions if it wasn’t true? Plus, his application also says he had taken taekwondo classes for four years which could come useful as well,” Keeho explained way too optimistic and you shrugged because you really couldn’t care less. If they wanted to take this kid who acted like the organization should be lucky to have him, who were you to stop them? Since he would be on a different team, you wouldn’t have to interact much anyways.

Or so you thought.

Ever since Intak joined Keeho’s team, they had been on fire. It seemed like their group just needed this new guy to really amplify their teamwork because suddenly they gained a reputation for being one of the most well-balanced teams with a great mission success rate. As you heard, Intak’s superpower really came pretty handy because it really did seem like so far that he was unable to die. Be it falling from the 37th floor, getting hit by a truck or being shot, he always got up just fine. This way he could be safely sent even to clear hazards but somehow he was stupid enough to almost die in the most ridiculous ways even when it wasn’t supposed to be a dangerous situation. One time he blew up a warehouse by lighting a candle to ‘see in the dark’ while the Anarchist they were looking for were known for emitting flammable gases. Another time you heard he choked on a chicken drumstick in the canteen.

You knew he wasn’t a bad guy. Hell, one time he went into a burning building to save a cat. He had burns and scratches for weeks after that because not being able to die didn’t mean he couldn’t get injured. But still, he was stupid and you didn’t waste your time on stupid people. You shouldn’t have been envious of their team either but it annoyed you greatly when they received a mission that you wanted for yourselves and that’s how the rivalry between your teams began… and how Intak became progressively more annoying.

You were pretty sure that it was because you openly doubted him and his powers during the Trials and that must have hurt his ego but he just had to rub their achievements under your nose every single time. Then while chatting your ears off about how cool it was actually to fall from the top of a hotel and trying to keep up with you, he managed to walk into a glass door which made you give him a side eye. That didn’t seem to defer him though, next time he sat at your table in the canteen and asked how did you know about your powers since it wasn’t a very obvious skill like pyrokinesis either. In the meantime he put so much gochujang onto his bibimbap that his mouth was on fire for the rest of the lunch that he tried very hard (yet failed) not to show. Then his recent favourite was to pester you in the training room whenever he found you alone.

“Need help, Mirrorgirl?”

“Leave before I punch you in the face,” you grunted because you just wanted to practice your short combat skills and his presence was not helping.

“Ouch,” Intak put a hand over his heart before plastering himself against the other side of the hung punching bag, keeping it steady for you.

In the end, you gave in and let him tag along, practicing your right hooks and uppercuts, rolling your eyes when the guy just chuckled whenever you almost accidentally (or maybe not so) hit him instead of the gear. But overall, he wasn’t a bad training partner, not that you would have ever admitted it to him because he would have never let you live it down. He was insufferable enough after that day already acting like you were besties.

Seoyeon had the audacity to tell you that she thought Intak was actually flirting with you which was ridiculous because at the very most he was like an overexcited dumb labrador.

“No, but like, think about it! He keeps showing off in front of you whenever they finish a mission. Sure it sounds like he’s bragging that his team is better than ours but he keeps going to you to say that shit as if he wanted you to be impressed or something. And he keeps looking for excuses to talk to you about the most random stuff like the new sweet potato fries on the canteen’s menu. And Jaehyun says he saw him nearly break his neck to turn and look at you one time when you showed up at the headquarters after a mission.”

“That’s crazy. He just has a grudge against me since I assumed he was lying about his power last year at the Trials,” you shook your head and dragged the girl to the surveillance room to do some boring investigation with you for this new mission you got.

It was actually one of the biggest tasks you had received recently and you not only wanted to prove yourself to the HQ (and that annoying Hwang Intak) but you really hated when villains preyed on people’s weaknesses, so this paranoia-inducing prodigy called Fearbearer really deserved a place in the prison. Tracking him down was the easier part of the mission, capturing him turned out to be much harder than expected. Your part was crucial in success because your power was similar to his, so only you could get close enough without being reduced into a trembling mess due to your fears. That is if you managed to make him look into a mirror that allowed you to make him think that he was alone, so he wouldn’t use his powers on you.

Chasing him into the mirror maze of the amusement park where he looked for his victims sounded like a good idea due to the excessive amount of mirrors but you forgot that your own fear could easily manifest in a setting like that since you had gained your powers after being buried under a collapsing building’s mirror-like glass windows. A graze of the villain’s cape against your uniform was enough for Fearbearer to push you back into your memories and while you struggled to come back to reality, he blew the mirror maze up around you which sent shards in all directions.

Your whole team came back into the headquarters with cut wounds and Seoyeon even had to be taken into the infirmary because she wouldn’t stop bleeding. The others patted your shoulder and said not to blame yourself but it was easier said than done. You couldn’t stop thinking about how it was all your fault: the Anarchist’s escape and Seoyeon’s condition. Needless to say you weren’t in the mood for chit-chats, much less for Intak’s loud ass. You didn’t want to hear how you failed miserably and that his team would have done better, nor did you want his pity.

“Hey, what happened to you? Are you okay?” He jogged up to you when he saw you trying to escape towards the rooftop to be alone.

“I’m fine. Leave me alone,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice stable and cold but the guy didn’t realize that his presence was very much not wanted. As always.

“You don’t look fine. You should at least disinfect those cuts or else they will heal weirdly,” he added before gently taking your wrist and stopping you. “Wait here, I will get a first aid kit.”

You really didn’t understand why he was so intent on doing that but you let him do his thing as long as he left. You didn’t expect him to find you at your favourite place on the rooftop though, this time with the promised first aid kit.

“You didn’t wait for me,” Intak said with a pout and you laughed at him dryly.

“As if you ever do what I tell you,” you rolled your eyes, keeping your gaze ahead, not looking at him. Not even when he sat next to you and opened the metal box, letting the disinfectant smell into the air.

“I heard about the mission in the infirmary. It wasn’t your fault,” he said, which made you grit your teeth. You didn’t want to talk about it but Hwang Intak really didn’t know when to shut up. “Nobody could have known that it would happen. You shouldn’t blame yourself over something like thi–”

“Why do you even care?” You snapped at him, turning towards him with fiery eyes and harshly bitten lips.

“Because I like you,” the boy blurted out right away, without thinking and you could literally see on his face when he realized what he just said. His eyes widened and he withdrew himself as if your closeness burnt him. “Shit.”

“Are you being serious?” You furrowed your brows because if he thought this was the right time for joking around, you swore you would find a way to kill somebody who couldn’t die.

For the first time since you have known him, Intak seemed nervous.

“I… Yeah. I think you’re very cool and pretty too,” he muttered, fixing his messy fringe while avoiding your gaze.

You didn’t say anything. You just narrowed your eyes and watched as he fidgeted in front of you. Then you took the cotton pads and disinfectant from his hands and got to work on the deepest cut on the back of your right hand.

“Wait. Aren’t you going to say anything?” Intak asked in surprise after brief silence and finally looked at you for the first time since his accidental confession.

“Not until you properly ask me out,” you gave him an ultimatum because he seemed genuine but you would have preferred if his actions were intentional too.

“Ah okay. You won’t reject me then, right?” The boy chuckled but when you didn’t answer, he asked a bit less sure of himself. “Right?”