the only weird part is that he’s also… kind of a loser.

you don’t really know him, just know of him. he’s in a few of your classes, close enough to be a familiar face but not close enough for either of you to actually talk. if anything, he’s just background noise in your life, one of those people who exists on the edge of your universe without ever really crossing into it.

except sometimes, every now and then, you feel like he’s acting a little… strange around you.

not that you think too hard about it. probably nothing.

the first time it happens, you don’t even clock it as anything weird.

it’s in english class, some group discussion where nobody’s actually talking, just pretending to think really hard about the book none of you actually read. you’re flipping through the pages when you feel someone staring.

you glance up, and there he is. jake sim.

he’s sitting diagonally across from you, elbow propped on the desk, eyes locked on you like he’s trying to figure out the meaning of life or something.

you blink at him.

he blinks back.

and then, like he just got caught committing a crime, he whips his head down, pretending to scribble something in his notebook with the intensity of someone writing their final will and testament.

...okay. weird, but whatever.

the second time, it’s in the hallway between classes.

you're digging through your locker, minding your own business, when you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

“uh—hi.”

you turn around.

jake sim is standing there, clutching his textbook like it's a lifeline. up close, he's even hotter, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, hair falling into his eyes.

he's also… kind of red in the face?

“hey?” you offer, confused.

he opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, then immediately shuts it again.

“never mind,” he mutters, spinning on his heel and walking away so fast you'd think the hallway was on fire.

...what the hell was that?

it keeps happening.

little moments that should probably add up to something if you actually paid attention, but you don’t, because jake sim is jake sim, and you’re just you.

he stumbles over his words when you ask to borrow a pencil. drops his entire water bottle when you accidentally brush past him in class. one time, you catch him fully tripping over absolutely nothing when you make eye contact with him across the cafeteria.

but for some reason, your brain just files it all away under wow, popular guys are weird sometimes and moves on.

if anyone ever asked you what you think of jake sim, you’d probably just shrug and say he’s nice.

you don't know that he’s been in love with you since sophomore year.

you don't know that every time he tries to talk to you, his brain completely shuts down.

and you definitely don’t know that the same guy who turns into a stammering mess around you spends his nights swinging across the city, cracking jokes and saving people as if confidence is something that comes built into the suit.

the third time you actually talk to him is in chemistry class.

the teacher pairs you up for some experiment, something involving measurements and burning stuff, and jake ends up at your table, tapping his pen against the notebook like he’s trying to act casual.

"can you pass me the beaker?" you ask.

he freezes.

his eyes flick to the beaker, then to you, then back to the beaker like it's a bomb he’s been assigned to defuse.

"...yeah," he says, voice cracking on the single syllable.

you don’t think anything of it, just reach for the beaker when he hands it over. your fingers brush against his, and he drops it.

it clatters against the table, rolling onto the floor with a loud clink.

"oh."

jake looks like he wants to melt through the floor.

"it's fine," you say, bending down to grab it. “at least it didn’t break” you joke to lighten to mood.

he doesn't move, just sits there gripping the edge of the table like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

you offer him a small smile when you straighten up, placing the beaker back on the table.

"chill," you joke. "it's not that serious."

jake visibly short-circuits.

"chill," he echoes, like it's the first time he's ever heard the word in his life.

if someone told you jake sim had a crush on you, you’d probably laugh.

guys like him don’t go for people like you.

guys like him date cheerleaders or instagram models or the kind of girls who know exactly how to flip their hair and laugh in that effortless, pretty way.

not people who half-ass their homework and accidentally fall asleep during history lectures.

definitely not people who would rather have deep conversations on rooftops than go to parties.

but what you don’t know is that those are all the exact reasons jake likes you.

he likes the way you always stick your tongue out a little when you’re concentrating. he likes how you always hum to yourself when you think nobody’s listening. he likes how you talk to everyone the same, never acting like anybody’s above or below you.

he likes you.

and it’s ruining his life.

—

"do you think jake sim is... weird?"

shinyu raises an eyebrow. "weird how?"

you frown, trying to find the right words.

"i don’t know. like... awkward? around me?"

he snorts. "he's awkward around everyone."

"not really."

shinyu pauses, eyes narrowing like he’s finally catching onto something you've been missing this whole time.

"...wait." he leans in. "do you seriously not realize he's into you?"

you blink.

"what?"

"oh my god." he gape at you like you're the dumbest person alive. "he's had a crush on you since, like, forever."

you genuinely laugh at that, because there's no way.

right?

meanwhile, across the cafeteria, jake sim is currently choking on his water because he saw you glance in his direction for half a second.

sunghoon pats his back, looking vaguely concerned.

"bro, you have superpowers, but you can't even talk to your crush?"

jake coughs harder. he’s so, so doomed.

—

you don’t try to stay out late. it just happens.

sometimes it’s because you lose track of time, caught up in the city’s glow. sometimes it’s because you’re walking home after a long study session, brain fried from trying to shove too much information into it at once.

tonight, it’s the latter.

shinyu yawns next to you, stretching his arms over his head as you both step out of the library. “i swear, if i have to look at one more page of notes, i’m throwing my entire textbook into the river.”

“you say that every time,” you point out.

“and one of these days, i’ll actually do it.”

you snort, tugging your hoodie closer around you. it’s late enough that the streets are quieter than usual, the hum of distant traffic the only real sound. most of the shops have already shut down, save for the 24-hour convenience store at the corner.

shinyu pulls out his phone. “should i call a cab?”

“nah,” you shake your head. “i’ll just walk.”

he frowns. “are you sure? it’s kinda late.”

“i always do this. i’ll be fine.”

he hesitates, clearly debating whether or not to argue, but eventually sighs. “alright. text me when you get home, though.”

“yes, mom.”

he rolls his eyes, flicking your forehead before heading off in the opposite direction.

you stuff your hands into your pockets and start walking.

your route home is familiar, same streets, same flickering streetlights, same little shop windows reflecting the glow of the city back at you. you don’t feel unsafe. if anything, you like walking at night. there’s something peaceful about it, something that makes the world feel a little softer around the edges.

but then—

you hear footsteps behind you.

at first, you don’t think much of it. there are always other people out and about. but as you keep walking, the sound stays steady, just far enough behind that you can’t tell if it’s a coincidence or something else.

your stomach twists. ‘who the fuck is walking around the same route as you at 2am..?’ you think to yourself.

you glance over your shoulder.

a man. mid-thirties, maybe. hood pulled up over his head.

the moment your eyes meet, he quickly looks away, pretending to check his phone.

your heart beats a little faster. you’re probably overreacting.

but then you turn the corner, and the footsteps turn with you.

you pick up your pace.

so do they.

your chest tightens. okay. okay. you’re not imagining it.

you scan the street for other people, but it’s mostly empty. the nearest open shop is too far ahead, and the alley you just passed is—

wait.

your stomach drops.

you didn’t even hear him move, but suddenly, he’s not behind you anymore.

he’s right there.

you barely have time to react before he grabs your wrist, grip too tight, breath too close. “hey—”

before you can even think to scream, something flies past you—fast, sharp.

and suddenly, the man is yanked backwards.

one second he’s gripping you, the next he’s pinned to the alley wall, struggling against thick strands of white webbing wrapped tight around his torso.

your breath catches in your throat.

what.

your brain barely has time to process it before—

“hey,” a voice calls.

you turn, heart still pounding.

and standing there, perched casually on the edge of a lamppost, is spider-man.

your mouth goes dry.

he hops down, landing lightly on the pavement, head tilting slightly as he glances at the guy still stuck to the wall. “yeah, i don’t think so,” he says.

the guy grunts, struggling uselessly against the webbing.

spider-man sighs. “not your best move.”

you just stare.

you know who he is, obviously. everyone does. but knowing about spider-man and actually seeing him in front of you are two entirely different things.

he turns to you. “you alright?”

you blink at him, mind still catching up. “uh.”

he tilts his head. “i’ll take that as a yes?”

“y-yeah,” you stammer, clearing your throat. “yeah. i’m fine.”

“good.” he gestures vaguely toward the guy. “i’ll leave him here for the cops. but, uh—maybe don’t walk alone this late?”

you exhale sharply. “yeah. got it. solid advice.”

spider-man lets out a soft chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

for some reason, that tiny, almost shy gesture is what actually makes your brain start working again.

because up until now, he seemed untouchable, fast, sharp, the kind of person who moves like he already knows the next ten steps ahead. but now, standing here, he’s shifting his weight slightly like he’s not sure what to do with his hands.

and for some reason, that makes him feel real.

“do you, uh,” he starts, then hesitates. “want me to walk you home?”

your stomach flips.

“oh,” you say. “you don’t have to—”

“i don’t mind,” he says quickly. “just to make sure you get there safe.”

you bite your lip. you really should say no. he’s probably busy, and you don’t want to take up more of his time.

but also.

spider-man just offered to walk you home.

what kind of idiot would turn that down?

“…okay,” you say finally.

you can hear the smile in his voice. “okay.”

—

when you finally get home, he hangs back by the streetlight, watching as you unlock the door.

“thanks again,” you say, turning back to him.

he nods. “anytime.”

you hesitate.

“…do you do handshakes?”

he lets out a soft laugh. “not usually.”

“oh.” you lower your hand, a little embarrassed.

but before you can pull it back completely, he reaches out and bumps his knuckles against yours.

it’s such a small thing. so stupidly small.

but for some reason, it makes your heart stutter.

you glance up at him, but he’s already moving, gripping the edge of the nearest rooftop, hoisting himself up with an easy strength that makes your stomach flip.

and then, just before he disappears—

“goodnight,” he says.

your breath catches.

and then he’s gone.

you collapse onto your bed the second you get inside, phone buzzing with a text from shinyu.

shinyu: you home yet? you: yeah shinyu: good

you hover over the keyboard for a second, debating.

and then—

you: hey. what do you think of spider-man?

his reply is instant.

shinyu: idk. kinda cool? you: ...yeah.

you stare at the screen. your heart is still racing.

and for some reason, all you can hear is his voice.

stupid voice with that stupid accent you recognize but look over.

—

it’s become a thing now.

you didn’t plan for it, but somehow it has.

spider-man keeps showing up.

at first, it’s just the occasional late-night save, that charming but awkward conversation at the end where you thank him profusely and he gives you a weird little knuckle bump before disappearing into the night.

but then...

you start seeing him more.

you start to notice that he seems to be where you are, just when you need him.

it happens AGAIN one night when you’re walking home after another late study session with shinyu.

you’re tired. drained. your brain feels like mush, and shinyu, though he’s usually the one full of energy, seems to be on the same wavelength.

"i swear," he mutters, "if i see one more page of equations, i’m going to just… yeet this textbook into the nearest river."

you snort, nudging him. "don’t tempt me. i’m kind of considering it myself."

you both chuckle, but it's tired. the kind of tired where you can’t even muster the energy to fake your usual enthusiasm.

the streets are quiet again, just the sound of your footsteps echoing in the night.

and, as usual, that familiar feeling creeps in, like you’re being watched.

you brush it off. it’s probably just a shadow, the way the streetlights flicker and make things seem closer than they are.

but then, in the distance, a small rustle.

you freeze for a second, but quickly continue walking, convincing yourself it’s nothing.

you turn another corner, and then, there he is.

spider-man.

you blink, more than a little surprised.

“oh, hey,” you say, trying to act casual. "what's up?"

he’s leaning against the side of a building, arms crossed, but when you notice the way he’s watching you, you can’t shake the feeling that maybe he’s been here for a while.

he straightens, suddenly looking a bit... embarrassed? "uh, nothing much. just making sure you're alright."

you blink, a little confused. "i’m fine? why wouldn’t i be?"

he gives a small shrug, like it’s no big deal. "you know, just being careful. you’re walking kinda late, and i’m... well, i’m always around."

you raise an eyebrow. "you just 'happen' to be around whenever i'm out late?"

he looks sheepish. "yep."

you stare at him for a second.

“are you stalking me?” you joke, but it comes out a little too serious.

his eyes widen, and he starts shaking his head quickly, scratching at the back of his neck. "no! no, of course not. just... making sure you're safe, y’know?"

you chuckle softly, rolling your eyes. "right. sure."

he seems to relax when you don’t push it further. “anyway, i could walk you home if you want. just in case, you know?”

you shrug. it’s not like you mind. "okay, but only because you’re weirdly persistent."

he grins, clearly relieved. "wouldn’t dream of letting you walk alone."

it’s an awkward, quiet walk. mostly because spider-man doesn’t seem to know how to start a normal conversation. his silence is comfortable, though, like there’s no need to fill the space. just walking with him feels nice.

by the time you’re at your front door, you’re laughing over something dumb that shinyu had said earlier. you feel strangely at ease.

"thanks for walking me home," you say.

he shrugs. “it’s nothing. just doing my part.”

you smile, heart skipping a beat. "goodnight, spider-man."

"goodnight," he replies, his voice soft. then, as usual, he’s gone before you can say anything else.

—

the routine builds quickly after that.

it becomes normal to see him around whenever you’re out at night.

he always seems to be around, sometimes just dropping in for a casual chat, other times swooping in to rescue you from the occasional shady character or two.

but it’s the quiet moments you start to cherish.

there’s one night where you and shinyu are hanging out on the rooftop of your building, talking about life as you always do. the sky is clear, the stars twinkling, and it feels like a moment frozen in time.

shinyu is sprawled across the floor, pretending to sleep, while you’re sitting with your legs dangling over the edge, arms resting on your knees.

“so,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence. “what’s the deal with spider-man, anyway? you two talk a lot now.”

you freeze for a second, eyes narrowing. “what do you mean ‘talk a lot?’”

he raises his hands in mock surrender. “i’m just saying. you two have some weird dynamic. are you, like, dating or something?”

you laugh it off. “what? no! it’s just... he’s, uh, nice. i don’t know, he’s just been around when i’ve needed him, that’s all.”

shinyu sits up, raising an eyebrow. “oh, really? just ‘happens’ to be there. that’s cute.”

you roll your eyes. “he’s cool, okay?”

he gives you a knowing look. “if you say so.”

before you can respond, you hear the familiar sound of whoosh above you.

spider-man drops down onto the roof, landing lightly beside you with an easy smile.

“hey, guys,” he says casually, like he hasn’t just flown in to join the conversation.

you smile at him, your heart fluttering a little. “hey, spider-man.”

shinyu squints at him, grinning. “so, we’re just hanging out, huh? that’s cool. do you want anything to drink?”

spider-man looks at him in confusion. “huh?”

“i mean, you’re here now. should we get drinks?” shinyu gestures to the corner store below. “i’ll go down and grab something. you want anything?”

spider-man glances at you first, and then back at shinyu, his expression unreadable for a moment.

“uh, sure,” he says, his voice a little uncertain. “i’ll just have whatever you’re getting.”

shinyu gives a little nod before standing up and heading down the stairs to the convenience store.

you and spider-man are left alone again.

the air feels different this time, like the space between you has changed. you both sit there in silence for a moment.

he clears his throat. “so, uh... how’s the studying going?”

you laugh softly. “honestly? i want to burn my textbooks.”

he chuckles. “yeah, i get that. same.”

you glance at him, curious. “you study too?”

he shrugs, looking awkward. “well... when i’m not being, you know, spider-man. i try to keep up.”

you nod, smiling. “cool. you seem smart.”

he looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah, well, it’s all kind of a... blur, y’know?”

you laugh again. "yeah, i know exactly what you mean."

and suddenly, you realize something.

you’re actually... comfortable with him.

not just the whole superhero thing, not just the awkwardness, but the person behind it. you don’t need to be on edge around him.

and somehow, that makes you feel both lighter and a little strange.

later, shinyu returns with drinks, and the conversation picks up again. spider-man relaxes a little more, though he still seems a bit fidgety.

you can’t help but notice how, even now, when he’s around shinyu, he still doesn’t seem to know how to act. there’s an ease to his awkwardness that’s almost endearing.

shinyu teases him a little, asking if he’s ever had to take his suit off after a long night of “saving people” and spider-man just shrugs awkwardly, mumbling something about the suit being “perfectly breathable” as if that’s the most casual thing in the world.

it’s a weird dynamic, but it works.

and for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel quite so... lonely.

—

when it’s time to leave, spider-man walks you home again, which is literally downstairs.

you’re still laughing from something shinyu said, but when you glance over at spider-man, you notice him looking at you more seriously than usual.

“you okay?” you ask, surprised by the shift in his mood.

“yeah,” he replies, his voice quiet. “just... it’s nothing. just wanted to check on you.”

you smile softly. “you do that a lot.”

he shrugs. “it’s my job, right?”

and even though he says that, you can see the hint of something more. something deeper.

you’re not sure what it is, but you feel it.

you smile to yourself, wondering if maybe you’re starting to understand him a little better.

when you get to your front door, you wave goodbye, but this time, he doesn’t leave immediately.

he lingers.

“goodnight, spider-man,” you say quietly.

“goodnight.”

he’s gone before you can blink.

and you can’t help but feel like there’s something he’s not saying. something important.

—

you’re at school, sitting with shinyu during lunch, lazily picking at your food as the two of you chat about the usual, homework, annoying teachers, and how much you’d rather be anywhere else.

and then, somehow, the conversation lands on him.

"so, spider-man," shinyu says, taking a sip of his drink. "you never really told me. what’s the deal with that?"

you blink, caught off guard. "what do you mean?"

shinyu shrugs. "i mean, you guys talk a lot. what’s he like?"

you pause, considering it. "well... he’s nice. kind of awkward, but in a cute way. and, i don’t know, i feel like i can actually talk to him, you know?"

shinyu raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. "so you like talking to him."

"obviously," you say, rolling your eyes. "he’s funny, easy to be around, and—"

you pause for half a second.

shinyu waits.

"... and?"

you shrug, acting like what you’re about to say is no big deal. "and he’s kinda hot."

it happens instantly.

a loud choking sound from the table next to you.

you both turn your heads.

jake sim, golden boy of the school, is currently dying.

he’s hunched over, violently coughing, his drink abandoned as he tries to catch his breath. his friends, some of the other popular kids, are just watching him, either concerned or mildly entertained.

"bro, what is wrong with you?" one of them asks, patting jake on the back.

jake wheezes.

you stare at him, blinking. "... you good?"

he looks up at you, eyes wide, mouth slightly open like he just realized he made a scene.

"uh—yeah! yes! i’m fine!" he blurts out, too loudly.

you and shinyu exchange a look.

"uh-huh," you say, unconvinced.

jake quickly grabs his drink again, pretending like nothing happened, but you can see it, how his ears are red, how he’s suddenly so focused on stirring his drink with his straw like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

weird.

shinyu, being shinyu, decides to push it.

"wait, you were listening to us?" he says, grinning.

"no!" jake says, way too fast. "i wasn’t listening! i just— i mean— i heard something, but it wasn’t on purpose—"

he stops himself, as if realizing he’s making it worse.

you stare at him, trying to figure out what his deal is.

jake sim is, objectively, very attractive. everyone at school knows it. he’s the kind of guy who could probably get away with murder just by looking at someone the right way.

but right now?

right now, he looks like a glitching NPC.

shinyu smirks. "so, which part made you choke? the part where spider-man is easy to talk to, or the part where he’s hot?"

jake makes a strangled sound, like he just swallowed his soul.

"i—" he starts, then stops, looking deeply uncomfortable.

you narrow your eyes at him.

"wait," you say suddenly, realization hitting. "do you know spider-man?"

jake freezes.

his eyes dart around the table, as if searching for an escape route.

"i—uh—no?" he tries, but it sounds more like a question than an answer.

"that was very convincing," you deadpan.

"thank you," he says automatically. then, realizing what he just did, he groans and drags a hand down his face.

you just stare at him.

what is up with this guy?

shinyu snickers. "dude, you’re acting real suspicious right now."

"i am not," jake says, still looking very much suspicious.

you and shinyu both just keep staring at him.

jake, unable to handle the attention, suddenly stands up. "gotta go!" he announces, grabbing his tray and practically sprinting away from the table.

... what.

you blink. "okay, what was that?"

shinyu just laughs. "no clue, but that was hilarious."

you shake your head, still baffled.

jake sim is weird.

—

that night, like clockwork, spider-man appears.

you’re outside, walking back from the convenience store, a bag of snacks in your hand when you hear the familiar thwip of a web.

you don’t even flinch anymore.

“oh, hey,” you say as he lands beside you. "you’re early tonight."

spider-man, who seems slightly fidgety for some reason, clears his throat. "uh, yeah. just happened to be around."

you nod. "right. as always."

there’s a beat of silence as the two of you start walking.

then, spider-man casually goes, "sooo... you think i’m hot?"

you freeze mid-step.

"what—"

he panics immediately. "i mean—! not that i heard you say that or anything, but like— well, let’s say hypothetically you did say that, and hypothetically i overheard—"

you narrow your eyes. "did you overhear?"

he hesitates for a full second before blurting, "no!"

"uh-huh."

he coughs. "but if you did think that— i mean, just out of curiosity, uh... what part exactly were you talking about?"

you stare at him.

he shifts, looking way too eager but also like he might die on the spot.

you decide to mess with him.

"i dunno," you say, pretending to think. "maybe the mask? keeps things mysterious."

"mysterious," he echoes.

"or maybe the whole... ‘hero of the city’ thing," you continue. "kind of hard not to find that attractive."

"oh," he says weakly.

you glance at him.

his shoulders are tense. he’s definitely blushing. even through the mask, you can tell.

you bite back a grin. "why do you ask, spider-man? you interested in what i think?"

"wh—no! i mean— i guess? maybe? i just—" he stops mid-sentence, suddenly frustrated with himself.

you laugh. "wow. you get flustered really easily."

"i do not," he lies.

you grin.

he’s so bad at this.

but... it’s kind of cute.

he clears his throat, clearly desperate to change the subject. "so! um! anyway! totally unrelated question—"

"uh-huh?"

"—but, like... have you ever thought that maybe you already know me?"

you blink. "what?"

he shrugs, trying to sound casual. "i mean, like, what if i wasn’t just spider-man? what if i was, i dunno... someone you see every day?"

you frown, confused.

"... but you’re not," you say simply. "i’d recognize your voice."

spider-man pauses.

"oh," he says.

like he just remembered that’s a thing.

you keep walking, completely missing the way his entire body slumps.

"why?" you ask, glancing at him. "are you secretly my math teacher or something?"

he lets out a weird, awkward laugh. "pfft. no! definitely not. that’d be, um. weird."

you snort. "right... mr. lee..?"

spider-man sighs, clearly realizing this isn’t going anywhere. "never mind," he mutters.

you just shrug. "okay. anyway, are we getting snacks or what?"

he perks up instantly. "yes! let’s do that."

he’s back to normal.

but inside, jake sim is screaming.

when you get home, you fall onto your bed, thinking about the conversation you just had.

weird.

he was acting weird.

but it’s probably nothing.

meanwhile, somewhere across the city, jake is lying face down on his bed, aggressively kicking his feet like a teenage girl in a romcom, absolutely mortified.

his friends are still roasting him for what happened at lunch.

he’s never going to live this down.

—

rooftops are underrated.

shinyu agrees.

“this is the best place to complain about life,” he says, stretching out on the rooftop ledge. “no teachers, no school stress, just the city and the stars.”

“and potential death if you slip,” you point out.

“adds to the thrill.”

you laugh, taking a deep breath as the cool night air brushes against your skin. it’s peaceful up here, the hum of the city below feeling distant, almost like background noise.

this is your favorite part of the night, escaping the weight of the day, letting yourself exist without expectations.

shinyu, lounging beside you, throws a crumpled snack wrapper at you. “so. be honest. do you think mr. lee is actually grading our essays or just randomly handing out scores?”

“random,” you say immediately. “there’s no way he read mine. i wrote a whole paragraph about how pigeons should have jobs and still got an A.”

shinyu nearly chokes on his drink. “what?”

“i was sleep-deprived, okay?”

“bro.”

you grin, nudging his shoulder. shinyu’s dramatic laughter echoes in the open air, and for a second, it feels like nothing else matters.

but then—

thwip.

a familiar sound.

you don’t even flinch.

shinyu, however, does. “bro,” he says, staring at the figure that just landed on the rooftop. “your weird little superhero friend is here again.”

spider-man straightens up. “hey,” he says, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie over his suit.

“oh, great,” shinyu mutters. “now i have to third-wheel whatever this weird thing is.”

you roll your eyes. “it’s not weird.”

spider-man, beside you, shifts. “wait. what’s not weird?”

shinyu smirks. “you and them.”

spider-man nearly trips over his own feet. “what?”

you laugh. “ignore him, he’s just being annoying.”

“i’m just saying,” shinyu teases, standing up and stretching, “i feel like a chaperone. anyway, i’m heading home before mr. lee assigns another test. try not to die.”

you wave him off, watching as he climbs down the fire escape.

the second he’s gone, spider-man sighs dramatically. “your friend is kind of scary.”

“he’d love to hear that.”

he chuckles, shaking his head. “so. you just hang out on rooftops for fun?”

“why not?” you shrug. “it’s peaceful. no school, no responsibilities, no—”

you shift slightly on the ledge—

and your foot slips.

for a split second, your stomach drops.

but before you can even process it—

strong hands grab your waist, pulling you back to safety.

your breath catches.

you don’t even have time to think before you’re pressed against him, his hands still firmly holding you, your faces way too close.

your brain short-circuits.

spider-man tenses.

his mask hides his expression, but you can feel the shift, the sudden awareness of just how close you are.

your hands are gripping his arms, his hands are still on your waist, and for a moment, neither of you move.

the air is thick.

his breathing is a little uneven.

he’s calm on the outside, but inside?

jake sim is losing his mind.

because oh my god.

he is touching you.

holding you.

you’re close enough that he can see every little detail, the way your lips part slightly in surprise, the way your eyes flicker down for a second before meeting his again.

he’s panicking.

but he cannot show it.

so he clears his throat, trying to sound casual. “you, uh. good?”

you blink, snapping out of it.

“oh. yeah. thanks for—” you gesture vaguely, still hyper-aware of his hands.

spider-man nods, though his brain is still buffering.

he should move.

but his hands don’t move.

why aren’t they moving?

he’s gripping your waist like you’re going to fall again, like he has to keep holding on, and it takes everything in him to not scream.

you tilt your head.

“... you okay?”

"me? oh! yeah! totally fine! absolutely not freaking out or anything!”

you squint at him.

"... you sure?"

"yep! totally! one hundred percent normal behavior happening right now!"

he still hasn’t let go.

you raise an eyebrow.

he realizes he still hasn’t let go.

"oh! right! my bad!"

he snatches his hands away like he just touched fire, stumbling back a step.

you blink at him.

he looks like he just had an out-of-body experience.

"... you’re acting weird," you say.

"no, i’m not!" he says, voice cracking.

you stare at him for another second before shrugging. "okay."

you sit back down like nothing happened.

spider-man stands there, physically trying to reboot.

—

the next day at school, jake sim is a mess.

he is so weird about it.

you don’t even notice at first, too busy going about your day, but then, little things start adding up.

like how he keeps running into walls.

or how he drops his books every time you walk by.

or how, when you pass him in the hallway, he does a 180-degree spin and walks the other direction like he just forgot where he was going.

it’s like he has no motor skills around you.

and the worst part?

everyone notices.

"bro, what is your deal?" one of his friends asks after jake nearly trips over thin air.

jake just groans, aggressively rubbing his face. "i don’t wanna talk about it."

his friends exchange a look.

"you’ve been acting weird since yesterday," one of them says. "what happened?"

"nothing!"

"are you sure?"

"yes!" jake says, too fast. "i’m totally fine! absolutely normal! definitely not thinking about anything that happened on a rooftop last night!"

his friends blink.

"... what?"

jake.exe has stopped working.

"i gotta go," he says, shoving his books into his bag and sprinting away before they can ask any more questions.

meanwhile, you, completely oblivious to his entire breakdown, sit down with shinyu at lunch, happily eating your food.

"hey," shinyu says, nudging you. "you notice how jake’s been acting extra weird today?"

you pause mid-bite. "huh?"

"he keeps running into things. i think you broke him."

"... what did i do?"

shinyu shrugs. "no clue. but it’s hilarious."

you glance across the cafeteria.

jake is at his table, looking stressed.

you don’t think much of it.

meanwhile, jake is sitting there, gripping his drink, replaying last night’s moment in his head like a broken record, absolutely suffering.

there’s something weird about jake sim.

not in an obvious way, he’s still the school’s golden boy, still effortlessly good-looking, still surrounded by people who seem drawn to him like he has his own gravitational pull.

but ever since you started talking to spider-man, something feels... off.

and the more you think about it, the more you realize...

jake and spider-man are kind of similar.

not in every way, obviously.

spider-man is cool in a nerdy, awkward way. jake is just awkward.

spider-man is confident until he’s flustered. jake is flustered until he’s more flustered.

but there are little things. things that stick in your mind and refuse to leave.

the way they both stutter when they’re flustered.

the way they both react too strongly when you mention something embarrassing.

the way spider-man somehow always reacts to things you say about jake sim a little too specifically.

you wouldn’t normally care.

except now you do so you decide to test him.

the opportunity presents itself in the middle of lunch.

shinyu is ranting about his math teacher, and you’re half-listening, half-watching as jake sits at his usual table across the cafeteria.

he looks tired.

his friends are talking, but he’s zoned out, poking at his food with a fork like it personally offended him.

for once, no one is paying attention to him.

so you turn to shinyu and casually say,

"hey. you ever think jake sim is kinda... spider-man-y?"

shinyu blinks. "what."

you shrug. "just saying. they kinda act the same sometimes."

"what kind of reach—"

you don’t get to respond.

because across the cafeteria, jake, mid-bite into his sandwich, freezes.

like, completely.

his jaw locks, his eyes widen slightly, and for a second, he just sits there, bread still between his teeth, looking like he’s buffering.

it’s only when one of his friends elbows him that he starts moving again, slowly, mechanically, chewing like he suddenly forgot how food works.

you watch this unfold with mild amusement.

shinyu squints. "okay, that was weird."

"right?"

you decide to take it further.

"also, if you really think about it, their voices are kind of similar," you add, casually sipping your drink.

jake, still trying to recover from his sandwich malfunction, visibly flinches.

his friend frowns. "dude, are you good?"

"mhm!" jake squeaks, before quickly stuffing more food into his mouth to avoid talking.

his ears are so red.

shinyu glances between you and him. "...did you just break jake sim?"

"interesting," you say, watching as jake forces himself to act normal, failing spectacularly.

very suspicious.

—

that night, spider-man shows up like always.

you’re sitting on your usual rooftop spot, legs dangling over the edge.

he lands beside you, slightly out of breath.

you tilt your head. “you good?”

"yep!" he says. "totally! just... busy day."

you hum.

"...sooo," you start, watching him closely, "something really funny happened today."

spider-man tenses. "oh? uh. what?"

you grin. "i was talking to shinyu about how jake sim kinda reminds me of you."

he flinches.

"oh?"

"yeah," you say, leaning in slightly. "you both get flustered really easily."

"what? no, i don’t!"

you raise an eyebrow. "you’re literally flustered right now."

"no, i’m not!"

you squint.

he shifts uncomfortably.

"also," you continue, "you have the same little mannerisms sometimes. like how you rub the back of your neck when you’re nervous."

his hand immediately drops from the back of his neck.

you stare.

he stares back.

"...okay, that was suspicious."

"what was?"

"that!"

"what?"

"you just—" you gesture vaguely. "you’re acting weird."

"i’m always weird!"

"true," you admit.

he sighs in relief.

but you’re not done.

"also, your voice kinda sounds like his."

"what?!"

"just a little," you say, watching him panic. "not enough for most people to notice, but still."

"n-no it doesn’t!"

"you sure?"

"positive!"

you hum.

"you definitely don’t have anything you wanna tell me?"

"nope! nothing at all! absolutely nothing weird happening here!*"

you squint.

he is sweating.

interesting.

—

jake sim has fought criminals, dodged gunfire, and swung through the city at terrifying speeds—

but this is the most nerve-wracking thing he’s ever done.

because tonight, he’s going to tell you.

he’s going to take off the mask, look you in the eye, and say it, 'i’m spider-man. i’m also jake sim. and i like you. a lot.'

he’s been rehearsing it in his head for days.

except now that he’s actually standing on the rooftop where you usually meet, waiting for you, his brain is short-circuiting.

what if you get mad? what if you feel betrayed? what if you never want to talk to him again?

he groans into his hands. this was a terrible idea.

but he can’t back out now.

not when he hears footsteps coming up the fire escape.

his heart nearly leaps out of his chest.

okay, okay. just act normal. wait, no—don't act normal, you’re always awkward. act... slightly less awkward. you can do this. you got this.

he takes a deep breath.

the door creaks open.

he turns around, already preparing himself—

and then immediately panics because—

oh god. that’s not you. that’s shinyu.

shinyu blinks. “oh.”

jake freezes.

shinyu squints. “what are you doing here?”

"nothing!" spider-man blurts out. "just—y’know. being spider-man. normal superhero things. ha ha."

shinyu looks so unimpressed. "right."

jake is internally screaming. where are you?? why is shinyu here instead?? he was so ready.

shinyu leans against the rooftop railing, arms crossed. "so. waiting for someone?"

spider-man stiffens. "uh—no! no, just... hanging out."

shinyu hums.

spider-man shifts uncomfortably.

there's a beat of silence before shinyu smirks. "you’re totally waiting for y/n, aren’t you?"

spider-man chokes on air.

"what?!"

shinyu laughs. "dude, relax. you guys seem close, that’s all."

spider-man doesn’t know what to say.

shinyu keeps going, teasing. "you like them or something?"

spider-man malfunctions.

because the answer is yes, so much yes, oh my god yes, but he cannot say that.

so he just stands there, absolutely flustered, failing to form a single coherent word.

shinyu raises an eyebrow. "wait. do you like them?"

"WHAT? NO. HAHAHA. HA." spider-man's voice cracks.

shinyu stares.

spider-man stares back.

the silence is deafening.

then shinyu grins.

"oh my god, you totally do."

spider-man groans and buries his face in his hands. this is a disaster.

shinyu laughs. "don’t worry, i won’t tell."

"thank you," spider-man mutters, still dying inside.

shinyu pats his shoulder. "good luck, loverboy."

and with that, he leaves, completely unaware that he just ruined the big reveal.

spider-man sighs so hard.

he’s going to scream into his pillow when he gets home.

—

jake sim has been so, so careful.

for months, he’s balanced both sides of his life perfectly, being the popular golden boy at school while keeping his very obvious crush on you a secret, and being the confident, quick-witted spider-man who gets to talk to you without turning into a human error message.

but all of that completely shatters in a matter of seconds.

and it’s entirely his fault.

it’s late, and you’re heading home from another study session with shinyu.

your backpack is slung lazily over one shoulder, and you’re lost in thought when suddenly—

"HEY!"

a voice yells from the alley beside you, and before you can react, a blur of red and blue drops down from above.

spider-man.

except something is off.

because he’s standing in front of you... maskless.

his wavy hair is messy, his expression is panicked, and his wide brown eyes lock onto yours in sheer horror.

… jake sim.

"JAKE?" you yelp.

"OH MY GOD." jake grabs his head like he just realized he left the stove on. "OH MY GOD, I FORGOT MY MASK. I—I THOUGHT I PUT IT ON BUT I DIDN’T. I JUST SWUNG DOWN WITHOUT IT—OH, THIS IS SO BAD—"

he starts pacing in frantic circles, muttering a meltdown under his breath. "stupid, stupid, stupid—how do you forget your MASK? how did i even think this was a good idea? i should just move to another country—"

you’re just standing there, staring at him, processing.

spider-man is jake sim.

jake sim is spider-man.

it all clicks.

the awkwardness. the stammering. the similarities you swore you noticed but ignored.

you slap a hand over your mouth, because instead of being shocked, instead of yelling or freaking out—

you start laughing.

"you’re kidding." you wheeze. "you’re actually kidding."

jake stops spiraling and looks at you like you just started speaking another language. "wait. why are you laughing?"

you’re losing it. "because this makes so much sense now. oh my god. jake."

he goes so red. "don’t say my name like that while i’m wearing the suit, that feels illegal."

but you can’t stop laughing. "i can’t believe i didn’t put this together sooner. you—oh my god, you were literally short-circuiting in front of me at school while having full-on conversations with me as spider-man."

"please," jake begs. "please let me live."

you wipe a tear from your eye, catching your breath. "wait—hold on—" you inhale, trying to compose yourself. "so… does that mean… you had a crush on me this whole time?"

jake freezes.

his entire body locks up like you just hit him with a paralyzing spell.

you raise an eyebrow. "jake."

he doesn’t move.

he doesn’t breathe.

"jake," you say again. "do you—"

"OKAY—" he blurts out, exploding into motion. "yes! yes. i like you. a lot. i have for a really long time. and i know this is probably the worst way for you to find out but—"

you take a step closer.

he shuts up immediately.

he’s still rambling in his head, though, oh my god, they’re looking at me, they’re getting closer, what does this mean, am i going to die—

and then—

you kiss him.

it’s soft, quick, and so unexpected that it completely short-circuits him.

his brain blue-screens.

by the time you pull away, his soul has left his body.

"you just—" he breathes, voice barely above a whisper.

you grin. "you like me."

"YOU JUST KISSED ME."

"yeah." you tilt your head. "you gonna do something about it, spider-man?"

jake.exe has stopped working.

he just stands there, mouth opening and closing, until finally—

he just groans into his hands. "oh my god, i am so in love with you."

~

ty for reading and enjoying !

enha taglist : @minoouz

it's april fools’ day, and you figured it’d be funny to see how he reacts. maybe he’ll get annoyed. maybe he’ll get frustrated. maybe he’ll start pleading with you dramatically. either way, you’re determined to hold out for as long as possible.

except… you forget one crucial detail.

jake sim is unbelievably clingy.

it starts the second you wake up. normally, you’d greet him with a sleepy mumble and a nuzzle into his chest, but today, you roll over and say nothing.

jake blinks at you, confused but still smiling as he shifts closer, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“morning, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep. he presses a lazy kiss to your cheek, waiting for your usual response. when it doesn’t come, he leans back slightly to look at you.

“babe?” he says again, poking your side gently.

you blink at him but remain silent, pressing your lips together to keep from laughing.

jake tilts his head. “did you not sleep well?”

you shake your head.

he frowns. “you had a nightmare?”

you shake your head again.

his brows furrow, concern flashing across his face. “are you mad at me?”

you don’t respond.

now jake is wide awake. he sits up, pulling you with him, cradling your face between his hands. “baby, what’s wrong?”

you give him the most deadpan stare you can manage.

his lips part slightly, and his eyes soften. “did i do something?”

you fight the urge to coo at how cute he looks, his messy bedhead, his pouty lips, the way his thumb strokes your cheek so gently.

instead, you just blink at him and stand up, heading to the bathroom.

jake follows. of course he does.

“wait, babe—" he tries, but you close the door before he can step inside.

you take a deep breath, covering your mouth to suppress your laughter. if he’s already acting this desperate, this prank might not last very long

jake spends the entire time you’re in the bathroom standing outside the door, knocking every few seconds.

“baby, are you okay?” knock.

“do you want me to make breakfast?” knock, knock.

“are you mad at me?” knock, knock, knock.

you don’t answer.

when you finally open the door, he’s standing there, arms crossed, lips jutted out in a deep pout. his hair is still a mess from sleep, and he looks like a kicked puppy, eyes big and round.

“why aren’t you talking to me?” he asks, voice slightly whiny.

you just step around him and head for the kitchen.

jake gasps. “wait, wait—” he rushes after you, grabbing onto the hem of your hoodie like a lost child. “baby, talk to me.”

you shake him off and continue on, though your resolve is already crumbling.

he makes a distressed sound, like you’ve just personally ripped out his heart. “oh my god,” he breathes, stumbling after you.

as you start making toast, he stands right behind you, practically pressing himself against your back. his arms snake around your waist, and he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“i’m sorry for whatever i did,” he mumbles. “i don’t know what it is, but i’ll fix it.”

you glance at him out of the corner of your eye but say nothing.

jake dramatically lets his head fall against you. “babe,” he whines.

you focus on buttering your toast.

“this is so cruel,” he mutters. “you know how much i love your voice.”

he starts swaying you side to side, squeezing you tighter. “just say one thing. anything. insult me. call me ugly. i don’t care, just talk to me.”

you almost break right then and there.

almost.

instead, you finish your toast, grab a plate, and move to the couch. jake follows immediately, plopping down beside you with an exaggerated sigh. he dramatically flops against your side, making himself comfortable with half his weight on you.

you do your best to ignore him as you eat.

he buries his face into your shoulder. “you’re so mean,” he mumbles.

you don’t react.

he shifts, lying down fully across your lap, looking up at you with big, pleading eyes. “please?”

you bite your lip to keep from smiling.

jake lets out another loud sigh. “fine. i’ll just text you, then.”

you watch as he pulls out his phone and starts typing. a second later, your phone buzzes on the table.

jake: are you okay? :(

another buzz.

jake: do u hate me

another.

jake: i miss u even though ur right here

he peeks up at you, eyes hopeful. you don’t respond.

his lips wobble.

another text.

jake: babe pls just say something ur killing me here

when you don’t react, he groans loudly, shoving his face into your stomach.

“this is literally the worst thing that has ever happened to me,” he mumbles against you.

you finally crack a little smile but quickly hide it before he can see.

he sighs again, dramatically rolling onto his side. he looks so genuinely sad now, lips still in a pout, his brows furrowed like he’s deep in thought.

you stare at him for a long moment, fingers twitching with the need to reach out and soothe him.

and then he mumbles, “maybe you finally realized i’m too annoying to love.”

your heart absolutely shatters.

that’s it. prank over.

you put your plate aside and immediately grab his face, forcing him to look at you. “jake, oh my god,” you blurt out, breaking your silence.

his eyes widen, but instead of the smug grin you expect, his lips press together tightly. he blinks once, twice. then a single tear rolls down his cheek.

your stomach drops.

“jake—”

he sniffles dramatically. “you really weren’t gonna talk to me all day?” his voice wobbles slightly, but the way his lips twitch gives him away.

“wait,” you narrow your eyes, scanning his face. “are you actually crying or are you faking it?”

another tear falls, and jake doesn’t even bother wiping it away. instead, he just lets out the most heart-wrenching sigh, draping himself across your lap again. “you tell me,” he murmurs.

guilt crashes over you in waves.

“oh my god, baby,” you whisper, frantically cupping his face. “i’m so sorry, i was just—”

his lips suddenly twitch into a tiny, barely-there smile.

your hands freeze.

his teary eyes peek up at you, and then, just like that, the grin breaks through.

realization smacks you in the face.

“jake,” you breathe.

he sniffles again, blinking innocently. “yes, my love?”

“you’re such a little—” you push his shoulder, and he bursts into laughter, rolling onto his back as you glare down at him.

“i knew you’d break first,” he teases between giggles, wiping at his damp cheeks. “but hey, i really did get emotional for a second.”

“i can't stand you.”

“no, you can't,” he sings, sitting up and tugging you onto his lap. “you love me, which is why you gave in.”

you huff, crossing your arms, but the warmth in his eyes softens you.

he presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “admit it,” he whispers. “you’d never last a whole day ignoring me.”

you want to argue, but… he’s right. you roll your eyes and let out a sigh. “yeah, yeah.”

“so,” he tilts his head, eyes twinkling, “can i have a proper ‘i love you’ now?”

you pretend to hesitate, but when he gives you that soft, lovestruck look, you cave.

“i love you, jake.”

his grin stretches wide, dimples appearing. “love you more, even if you’re mean to me.”

no. more accurately, han taesan is standing just outside your yard, leaning casually against the fence like he owns the street, like he didn’t just pelt your window with two small rocks. his hoodie is up, shadowing his face, but the flashlight in his hand flicks on and off twice. deliberate. like a signal.

you blink. and then blink again.

because han taesan is the neighbor you’ve always kept a healthy distance from. he’s the reason the neighborhood group chat has three different emergency threads. he’s the kid who climbed onto the school's four-story roof last year just because someone dared him. he’s always getting written up. always being talked about. always loud, always laughing.

but tonight, he’s quiet. tonight, he’s looking directly at you.

you don’t move. he shifts slightly, then pulls something out from behind his back.

a sign. well, it's a napkin, but it works as a sign. he holds it up, and in bold, messy marker it reads:

come with me. just for a bit.

your heart skips.

you’re not the type to sneak out. not the type to say yes to things like this. you’re the “text me when you get there” kind. the “curfew means curfew” kind. your phone is already in your hand, screen glowing with the drafted text you were going to send to your mom about finishing homework and heading to bed early.

you look back out the window. taesan grins and pulls out another napkin where he starts scribbling onto it once again.

you’ll regret it if you don’t.

the grin gets to you more than it should. it’s not cocky. it’s a little hopeful. a little excited. like he’s waiting to share something no one else gets to see. like he picked you.

you sigh. your thumb hovers over the text message. you think about deleting it. you think about shutting the window. you think about how weird tomorrow might feel if you go. and like a ghost possesed you to be different tonight, you delete the draft and throw on a hoodie.

you leave the light on to make it look like you’re still in your room. your heart is pounding in your throat. this is ridiculous. this is so dumb. you’re halfway down the stairs before you even realize you're moving.

you make sure to take out the batteries from the door alarm and open it but the front door creaks. you wince. freeze.

nothing.

you slip outside and shut it again, as slowly and silently as possible. the porch light is off. the night is cold and still and too quiet. every crunch of gravel beneath your sneakers feels like a siren.

taesan is already walking backward, waving you toward the end of the street.

you jog to catch up.

“you actually came,” he says, eyebrows raised.

“you threw rocks at my window,” you whisper back, still out of breath.

“and you came,” he says, like that’s proof of something. “i’m impressed.”

you roll your eyes. “what is this, exactly?”

taesan shrugs, flashing the flashlight briefly at your feet. “just something i want to show you. it’ll be worth it.”

“is this the part where you reveal you’ve been hiding a stolen motorcycle in your garage?”

he grins wider. “nah. that’s next week.”

you laugh before you mean to, and he catches it. his gaze lingers on you for half a second longer than it should. you pretend not to notice.

the neighborhood looks different at night. each house is a sleeping giant. windows glowing softly. no cars. no noise. just the two of you, cutting across sidewalks and hopping fences like fugitives.

“we’re gonna get arrested,” you mutter.

“technically,” he says, “we’re just walking.”

you glance over at him. “most people walk on the sidewalk.”

“most people are boring.”

you duck as a red dot from a camera catches your gaze. taesan hisses a laugh and grabs your wrist, yanking you behind the nearest hedge.

you land too close together, knees bumping, breath tangled.

you don’t say anything. neither does he.

the light eventually shuts off.

“okay,” you whisper, barely audible. “maybe this is kinda fun.”

“told you,” he says. “but it gets better.”

“what is this place, taesan?”

he looks at you, serious for a moment. “it’s where i go when the rest of this place feels too small.”

you stare at him.

he scratches the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. “that sounded cooler in my head.”

you nod slowly. “nah. it was kind of cool.”

he perks up again. “yeah?”

“don’t push it.”

you keep walking, this time side by side.

the thrill is still there, tingling just beneath your skin, but there’s something warmer now too. a weird quiet comfort in the way your steps sync. in the way taesan hums softly when there’s no conversation. in the way he sometimes looks at you like he can’t believe you’re still here.

“so,” you say after a while, “do you do this often?”

“sneak out? yeah.”

“no, convince innocent bystanders to join your criminal antics?”

“not really,” he says. “you’re kind of a first.”

you glance at him.

he doesn’t look back.

instead, he points ahead to a chain-link fence.

“almost there,” he says.

you don’t know where there is yet, but you know one thing for sure: you’re not turning back.

not yet.

you’re halfway across a playground you didn’t know still existed when taesan suddenly veers left, hopping a low fence like it’s muscle memory.

you follow, breathing harder now, adrenaline buzzing under your skin in a way that makes you feel alive and reckless and a little bit stupid.

“we’re really far from my house,” you say.

“you mean our house,” he corrects, turning around with a crooked grin. “we’re neighbors, remember?”

“yeah,” you mutter. “this feels like the kind of bonding experience that ends with a demon being summoned.”

he laughs, loud and bright in the empty dark. it echoes between the old school buildings as you both duck into a narrow path between chain-link fences.

“you always this dramatic?” he asks.

“you always this mysterious?” you shoot back.

he considers this. “i try not to be. people make assumptions when you stop explaining yourself.”

“so you just stopped explaining?”

“i got tired,” he says, voice quieter now. “and my friends moved away. it’s easier not to miss them if i don’t talk about them.”

you glance at him. there’s something different in the way he walks now. slower. not just because the path narrows, but because he’s remembering.

“this the part where you tell me about your tragic backstory?” you ask, teasing, but softer.

he snorts. “nah. just… there used to be five of us. every friday night. we’d sneak out, go exploring, steal snacks from the convenience store if we were brave enough. we called it ‘operation getaway.’”

you raise a brow. “wow. that’s so dramatic.”

he nudges you with his shoulder. “shut up.”

“i’m just saying,” you grin, “sounds kind of adorable. were you, like, the fearless leader?”

“duh,” he says, then adds quickly, “i mean—no. maybe. i don’t know.”

“taesan,” you drawl. “are you sentimental?”

he stumbles over a crack in the pavement.

“what? no,” he says too fast. “no way.”

“you totally are.”

“i’m not.”

“this is your secret memory lane. you’re taking me to your old hangout spot. you’re sharing stories about your childhood gang—”

“okay shut up, you’re ruining the moment.”

you’re laughing when he shoves you lightly, and he’s laughing too, except it sounds more like relief. like he’s glad you didn’t run at the first sign of something real.

you climb up a slanted dumpster and hop down the other side, landing next to him in a hidden alley you didn’t even know existed. it smells like asphalt and wild mint.

“how do you know all these weird paths?” you ask, brushing your hands on your hoodie.

“been running through them since i was twelve,” he says, glancing around. “they don’t teach this stuff in school.”

you pause, realizing you’ve been walking for a while now, and not once have you felt lost.

“now, where are we going?” you ask.

he smiles. “you’ll see.”

you roll your eyes. “vague. mysterious. definitely suspicious.”

“all the best things are,” he says.

you keep walking, but something changes.

at first it’s small, a flicker in your peripheral vision. a low hum. the kind of noise you don’t notice until it’s been going on for too long.

you glance behind you.

a car. old. paint chipped. headlights off. moving way too slow for a place with no stop signs.

you squint. taesan hasn’t noticed yet. he’s ahead of you, already halfway through a shortcut behind someone’s backyard. but when the car creeps past again, this time from the other side of the block, you speak up.

“hey… that car’s weird.”

he stops mid-step. turns. his eyes scan the street, sharp now, calculating.

“which one?”

you point. it’s gone again.

his jaw tightens. not dramatically. just enough that you notice.

“it’s probably nothing,” he says, voice level. “somebody getting lost.”

but he’s looking around more now. less joking. more alert.

you don’t ask questions. not yet. you just fall in step beside him again, a little closer this time. and when you reach a side street with no streetlights, he reaches out and takes your hand.

just like that.

no big deal.

except your fingers are burning where they touch.

“shortcut,” he says, tugging you into the dark between two buildings. “we’ll cut through here.”

you don’t argue.

your shoes scuff against broken pavement, and his flashlight flicks on, just long enough to catch your footing. it smells like rain and something else, dust maybe. you can hear your own heartbeat louder than your steps.

“you okay?” he asks quietly, still holding your hand.

you nod, even though he’s not looking.

“yeah.”

you’re more than okay. you’re terrified, and excited, and fully aware that you’re wandering through alleys with a boy you barely know but somehow trust anyway.

and then, as you turn the corner, he stops. you almost run into him. he’s staring up at a narrow fire escape tucked between two brick walls.

“this is it,” he says.

you follow his gaze. “what is?”

he grins. “our rooftop,” he says. “c’mon. don’t wimp out on me now.”

you eye the ladder. it looks… less than safe.

“you first,” you mutter.

he’s already climbing.

you wait until he’s halfway up before starting after him, hands trembling with cold and adrenaline.

when you reach the top, breathless and heart pounding, he’s standing there—arms spread like he’s welcoming you into a secret universe.

and what you see takes your breath away.

city lights stretch in every direction. soft, glowing. like someone shook glitter over the world and let it settle in the cracks. the wind brushes your face. it’s quiet up here. peaceful. far away from everything.

“taesan…” you say, voice small.

he glances over. “told you it’d be worth it.”

you don’t realize how hard you’re breathing until your back hits the cool rooftop, and the stars spin a little above your head.

“oh my god,” you gasp, laughing between breaths. “we almost died on that ladder.”

taesan collapses next to you with a dramatic sigh. “worth it.”

you turn your head. he’s grinning again, eyes squinting up at the sky, hoodie bunched at his elbows. you’re close enough that your arms touch, and the heat from his skin is louder than the wind.

“so,” you say after a beat, “this is your big secret spot.”

he hums. “yep.”

“it’s actually kind of... amazing.”

“you sound surprised.”

“well,” you grin, “i was expecting like, a junkyard. or maybe a haunted gas station.”

“jeez, you just hate me i guess,” he deadpans.

you nudge his shoulder. he doesn’t nudge back.

instead, he says, quieter now, “i thought you weren’t gonna come.”

you glance at him.

his eyes are still on the sky, but his voice dips, softer around the edges. “i had the sign ready and everything. would’ve felt dumb just standing down there.”

your chest squeezes. “so you planned that?” you ask, raising a brow.

he side-eyes you. “no.”

“taesan.”

“okay maybe.”

you laugh, and he smiles like he can’t help it. there’s something different about this version of him. less troublemaker, more boy with too much heart and nowhere to put it.

you sit up, the city stretching behind him like a dream, and for a second, just a second, you wonder what would happen if you leaned in.

he’s looking at you.

you’re looking back.

his hand brushes yours, light as static.

you close your eyes, move closer

and then—

“oh hell no.”

you both jolt upright.

from the opposite side of the rooftop, two shadows emerge, both climbing over the edge like it’s their usual entrance.

taesan groans. “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“bro,” the short one says, stepping into the light, “you knew we were coming tonight.”

“i forgot!”

the second boy, a much taller, with round cheeks and wide eyes, waves cheerfully, like he hasn’t just interrupted the moment of the century.

“hi!” he says brightly, to you. “you’re not part of the usual rooftop squad.”

“not yet,” you mumble.

“don’t be nice,” taesan grumbles, standing. “you just ruined the vibe.”

“you ruined the vibe by being early,” the short one fires back. “we had a whole timing plan!”

taesan sighs like this is a very old argument.

“y/n,” he gestures between them, “this is riwoo, angry, dramatic, and woonhak, baby of the group.”

woonhak beams and does a little wave again.

you can’t help it, you whisper to taesan, “he is the cutest.”

taesan just groans louder. “don’t encourage him.”

woonhak plops down like this is his house and you’re the guest. “you guys bring snacks?”

“do i look unprepared?” taesan mutters, already pulling a bag of chips, two rice cakes, and a bottle of melon soda from his backpack like some kind of urban picnic magician.

riwoo raises his eyebrows. “you brought donuts? for them?”

“shut up,” taesan says, tossing the pack across the rooftop. “you can have half.”

“i want a rice cake,” woonhak chirps.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” taesan says, handing it over.

you watch all this unfold. three boys on a rooftop at midnight, bickering over snacks and spots on the concrete, and suddenly, the night feels warmer. this is the side of taesan no one gets to see. the one who keeps old traditions alive. the one who remembers to bring enough snacks for everyone. the one who laughs like he means it.

you end up sitting between woonhak and riwoo, passing the soda back and forth as stories start to spill out. ones about rooftops and ruined bikes and the time taesan broke a pipe trying to slide down it like in a movie.

“he landed in someone’s pool,” riwoo says, deadpan.

“i was aiming for it!” taesan insists.

“you broke your arm.”

“yeah, after the pool part. technically still a win.”

you’re laughing too hard to respond. your face hurts from smiling.

taesan glances at you, eyes crinkled. there’s something in his gaze you can’t place, soft and searching, like he’s trying to memorize the sound of your laugh.

you look away, heart thudding louder than before.

somewhere in the distance, a dog barks. a train hums. the city never really sleeps. but for once, it feels like the world’s paused just for you.

you tilt your head back. above, stars scatter across the sky like glitter spilled on black velvet. below, you can see the town, tiny houses, sleepy streets, the faint glow of your porch light still on.

you think about curfews. about rules. about how this night wasn’t supposed to happen. and then you think about how glad you are that it did.

the sky is turning that pale, impossible blue, like someone pressed pause on the night right before it gave up.

you walk slower now, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, the rooftops and alleyways behind you, your house still just out of sight.

it’s not the kind of slow that comes from being tired. it’s the kind of slow that says please don’t end yet.

taesan’s quiet too. not in a bad way. just thoughtful. he kicks a pebble down the sidewalk, his hand close to yours but not quite touching. you want to say something. you don’t know what.

instead, he says, “you ever stay out this late before?”

you shake your head. “never.”

he looks over. “so… i was your first time?”

you scoff, elbowing him. “don’t make it weird.”

he laughs, but it’s soft. tired. fond.

you turn onto your street and the quiet shifts. not peaceful anymore. heavier. because from here, you can see it.

your porch light is on.

and the light inside the living room, off when you left, is now glowing faintly behind the curtains.

your heart drops to your knees.

“shit,” you whisper.

taesan stops next to you. he sees it too.

you both just stand there for a second, frozen like deer in someone else’s headlights.

“okay,” he says finally, breath visible in the morning chill. “don’t freak out. could just be uhh—like, someone got up to pee. lights got left on.”

“yeah,” you say. “totally. because my family just loves wasting electricity.”

you take another step. then another. your yard is a war zone of betrayal. every twig looks louder. every shadow feels like an accusation.

taesan nudges your fingers with his. not quite a hold. just a reminder he’s there.

“don’t worry,” he says, too gently. “if you get caught… i’ll take the blame.”

you blink at him.

“taesan.”

“i mean it.”

“that’s the dumbest thing i’ve ever heard,” you whisper, but you’re smiling. kind of. it’s tight. terrified.

you reach the edge of your driveway and crouch instinctively. like you’re in a spy movie. or about to commit a very boring felony.

taesan follows your lead, ducking behind your mom’s flowerbed.

“okay,” you mutter. “plan?”

“i distract. you sneak in. climb up that janky trellis like you’re in mission impossible. easy.”

“you do realize i’ll owe you for life if this works.”

he shrugs. “worth it.”

you glance toward the house.

the window to your room is slightly cracked open, just like you left it when the nights got too warm. but that means you didn’t close it. which means someone might’ve noticed. might’ve gone to check.

your throat is dry.

“i’ll go first,” you whisper. “if it looks bad… run.”

he frowns.

“i’m serious,” you add. “don’t make this worse than it is. just—run.”

he hesitates. but nods.

you creep across the yard. one foot. then the other. the grass is damp. your hoodie feels too loud. everything is glass and you’re walking with a hammer. you reach the side of the house. make it to the window. fingers wrap around the wood. you glance back—

taesan’s crouched low, watching you. he gives a tiny thumbs-up.

you roll your eyes and start to climb. it’s harder than it looks. the wood creaks. your foot slips once. but you make it, window ledge, fingertips, finally swinging one leg over—

and then it happens.

the creak.

that one stupid floorboard by your desk. you always forget. it always betrays you.

your heart stops.

you freeze, mid-step. barely breathing.

down the hallway, something moves.

a shadow.

a person.

you hiss—“go!”—at the window, barely loud enough, but taesan hears.

he’s already moving. but he doesn’t run. he hesitates. stares up at you one last time. something flickers in his eyes. regret, apology, maybe just goodbye. and then he bolts.

vanishes behind the neighbor’s hedges like he was never there. you’re alone now. and the shadow’s getting closer.

—

the house is too quiet after the storm.

you’re still standing in the hallway when the words settle in the air like dust:

“you’re grounded for a month.”

you don’t argue. you just nod. what would you even say?

the silence that follows is somehow worse. the kind where you can feel someone’s disappointment before they even say it. like static in your bones.

you mumble something like “okay,” something like “goodnight,” and shut your door behind you.

your room is dark except for the bluish light bleeding through the window. you can’t bring yourself to turn on the lamp. the adrenaline’s gone now, but your heart is still racing like it doesn’t know the night’s over.

you’re not even sure what you’re feeling.

regret?

not exactly.

fear?

kind of.

mostly it’s just… him.

taesan.

his hand brushing yours. his laugh on the rooftop. the way he ran when you told him to, but didn’t want to.

you sit on the edge of your bed and realize your fingers are clenched around something.

it’s a note, on another one of those stupid napkins. you forgot he gave it to you, folded into your palm like a secret before you climbed the trellis.

it’s crumpled now, smudged from your grip, but you unfold it anyway.

his handwriting is messy. like him.

“if we get caught, blame me. but if it’s fun, you have to admit i was right.”

you close your eyes. you don’t even hear your phone buzz until the second time. you dive for it.

taesan: did you make it?

you bite your lip. thumbs hover over the screen.

you: define “make it.”

you wait. your heart is loud again.

taesan: define “regret.”

you almost laugh. almost cry. your fingers tremble as you type, curling under the covers like the walls can’t hear you.

you: i don’t.

a pause. then the three dots again.

taesan: knew it.

you roll onto your back and stare at the ceiling. your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re trying not to smile. you don’t know what this is. you just know it matters.

—

it’s past midnight when you hear it.

click.

soft. quiet. outside your window. you pause your music and sit up. it’s nothing. probably. a squirrel. the wind. you peek through the blinds anyway. and there he is.

taesan.

hoodie up. hair messy. standing at the edge of your yard like a dare you forgot to take. he sees you and holds something up.

a napkin.

scribbled in sharpie, crooked but clear:

“worth it?”

you stare at him, press your forehead against the cold glass, and nod.

taesan’s grin splits across his face. cocky. blinding. he doesn’t stay.

just throws you a wink and disappears again. back into the dark, like a secret the night let slip for just a second.

you crawl back into bed and keep the napkin. fold it. press it into your notebook. write the date in the corner.

because later, when you’re older and the world feels a little less magic, you’ll want to remember this:

the rooftop.

the laughter.

the near-kiss.

the sprint through shadows.

the moment your heart cracked open at the worst possible time.

you got caught. but you also chose it. and that kind of feeling?

that’s worth everything.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

tysm for reading :>

series taglist : @somber-reads @saritahwang

bnd taglist : @bxnedo

so now you're here, standing awkwardly in the corner of a frat house, gripping a red solo cup filled with something that smells suspiciously like gasoline. minju is already off somewhere, talking to a girl from her english class, and you're left to watch as people dance, drink, and make questionable decisions.

"you look miserable," a voice says from beside you.

you turn and come face to face with park jongseong, jay, as everyone calls him. you know his name, even if you've never spoken before. he's older, popular, and has a reputation that follows him everywhere he goes.

flirt. player. fuckboy.

minju has warned you about him. "he's hot, yeah, but he's the kind of guy who doesn't do relationships. he flirts, hooks up, and moves on. trust me, i've seen it happen."

but none of that matters, because you have no plans to entertain him.

jay grins at you, leaning against the wall like he owns the place. he's got that easy confidence, the kind that comes with knowing he's attractive and that people want him.

"not a fan of parties?" he asks, tilting his head.

you shrug. "not really."

he chuckles. "then why are you here?"

"minju."

his eyebrows raise slightly. "you know minju?"

"from high school." you say, keeping your answers short.

"interesting," he muses, eyes scanning your face like he's trying to place you somewhere in his memory. he doesn't seem to recognize you, though, which isn't surprising. you've never exactly run in the same circles.

"so," he says, shifting closer. "wanna dance?"

it's not a question, not really. it's the kind of offer people don't usually refuse, not when it comes from him. jay park doesn't get turned down.

but you just blink at him and say, "no, thanks."

his smile falters, just for a second, before he recovers. "really? you sure? i promise i'm a good dancer."

"i'm sure." you say with a fake smile, giving off the vibe that you’re annoyed

he lets out a soft laugh, like he can't believe you're actually rejecting him. his ego must be bruised, but he hides it well, still looking at you with interest.

"alright," he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "then how about a drink? i can get you something better than… whatever that is." he nods at your cup.

"i'm good."

"wow," he murmurs, shaking his head in amusement. "you're really not making this easy for me, huh?"

"should i?"

he grins, running a hand through his dark hair. "most people do."

"well, i'm not most people."

jay studies you for a moment, like he's trying to figure out why you're different. why you're not reacting the way everyone else does. you don't bat your lashes at him, don't giggle or play into his flirting. and for some reason, instead of turning him away, it only seems to intrigue him more.

"i like you," he says suddenly.

you roll your eyes. "you don't even know me."

"not yet," he agrees, "but i’d like to."

there's something almost playful in his voice, but you know better. jay isn’t interested in getting to know people. he's interested in chasing, in winning. and right now, you’re just another game to him.

"keep liking me from a distance," you say, brushing past him.

you don’t look back, but you feel his eyes on you as you walk away.

for the first time in his life, park jongseong has been rejected. and somehow, you think that only makes him more determined.

—

you don't think much about your encounter with jay. to you, it was just another conversation at a party, one you barely wanted to be at in the first place.

but apparently, jay thinks otherwise.

it starts with small things.

you see him at the campus café, where he just so happens to show up right behind you in line.

"oh, hey," he says casually, as if running into you is pure coincidence.

you glance at him, unimpressed. "hey."

"what are you getting?"

you turn back to the menu. "haven't decided."

"let me guess," he hums, tapping a finger against his chin like he's solving some great mystery. "you seem like a caramel macchiato kind of person."

you raise a brow. "what does that even mean?"

jay grins, leaning in slightly. "sweet, but a little bitter if you get on their bad side."

"so basically, you're guessing."

"i call it an educated guess," he says, nodding at the cashier. "get one. my treat."

"no, thanks."

he lets out a dramatic sigh. "you really don't like accepting things from me, huh?"

"nope."

instead of looking discouraged, jay just watches as you place your order, an iced americano, completely different from what he guessed.

he chuckles. "so i was way off."

"yup."

you take your drink and leave without another word. jay doesn’t follow, but you swear you feel his stare on your back as you walk away.

it keeps happening.

and then, one afternoon, you’re sitting under a tree, trying to get through an assignment, when someone drops into the grass beside you.

"you always look so serious," jay muses.

you don’t even glance up. "because i'm trying to focus."

"right, right." he leans back on his hands. "but don't you ever take a break?"

"nope."

"come on," he nudges your knee with his. "five minutes won't kill you."

you sigh, finally looking at him. "do you need something?"

jay flashes you that same easy grin, the one that probably gets him whatever he wants. "just your company."

"i think you’ll survive without it."

he clutches his chest dramatically. "ouch. you wound me."

"you’ll live."

jay just laughs, shaking his head. "you know, you’re making this really difficult."

"making what difficult?"

"getting to know you."

"who said i wanted you to?"

he stares at you for a moment, eyes glinting with something unreadable. then, instead of answering, he stands up and dusts himself off.

"alright," he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. "guess i’ll try again tomorrow."

before you can process his words, he's already walking away.

"okay, what is going on?" minju asks a few days later, sliding into the seat across from you in the dining hall.

"what do you mean?"

she gestures dramatically. "you and jay. he keeps staring at you. he keeps showing up wherever you are."

"it's just a coincidence."

"coincidence my ass," she huffs. "he’s interested."

"interested in what? flirting with someone who doesn’t want to flirt back?"

"exactly!" minju exclaims. "he's never been rejected before! you’re like. like. his first loss."

"not a loss," you correct. "just… not a win."

"same thing in his mind." she leans in, eyes narrowing. "be honest. do you like him?"

you snort. "no."

"not even a little?"

"minju, he flirts with anything that breathes."

"true," she concedes, stabbing a piece of her salad. "but he’s never tried this hard before."

you roll your eyes. "and that’s exactly why i’m not interested. he only wants what he can’t have."

"so you think if you gave in, he’d lose interest?"

"obviously. but it’s not like i want him to be interested in the first place,”

but what you don’t see is jay, sitting at another table with jake and heeseung, watching you from across the room.

"so," heeseung says, "still trying?"

jay sips his drink, not looking away. "yup."

jake shakes his head, laughing. "dude, you're obsessed."

"i'm not obsessed," jay scoffs. "i'm just… interested."

heeseung raises a brow. "in what? winning?"

jay pauses. that should be the answer. that’s how it always is. he flirts, he wins, he moves on. but this time, it feels different.

"i dunno," he mutters, eyes still locked on you. "but i wanna find out."

and just like that, park jongseong makes it his mission to make you fall for him.

whether you want to or not.

—

you’re starting to think the universe has a cruel sense of humor.

there’s no other explanation for why jay park keeps showing up everywhere you go.

first, it’s the café… again. you stop by for your usual iced americano, and there he is, leaning against the counter like he has all the time in the world. when he sees you, his lips curl into a smirk.

"you stalking me now?" he teases.

you blink at him. "this is literally my usual spot."

"yeah?" he muses, stepping aside so you can order. "funny. seems like it’s mine now too."

you ignore him and pay for your drink, but as you turn to leave, he suddenly holds out a muffin. "here."

you frown. "what is this?"

"peace offering," he says. "for annoying you so much."

"i don't want it."

jay tuts, shaking his head. "harsh. you don’t like sweets?"

"i don’t like you."

he laughs, completely unbothered. "that’s not true. you just won’t admit you think i’m funny."

you roll your eyes and walk past him, but not before he calls out, "see you around!"

unfortunately, he’s right.

the second time, it’s the library.

you’re sitting at a table, halfway through an essay, when someone slides into the seat across from you.

you don’t need to look up. "seriously?"

jay rests his chin on his palm, grinning. "seriously."

"do you even study?"

"i do now." he gestures to his laptop, which, sure enough, is open.

you sigh and turn back to your work, ignoring him completely. for the first ten minutes, he’s quiet, and you start to think maybe—just maybe—he’s actually here to study.

but then he leans forward. "you always this focused?"

"yes."

"cute," he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear.

you finally look at him, unimpressed. "why are you here?"

"what, a guy can’t expand his knowledge?"

"you haven’t typed a single word."

jay glances at his screen, where his essay is blank. he shrugs. "i’m thinking."

"about what?"

"about how long it’s gonna take for you to admit you like having me around."

you let out a slow breath, standing up and gathering your things. "good luck with that."

"where you going?"

"somewhere quiet."

jay watches you leave, the smirk never leaving his face.

you think that’s the end of it.

until your professor assigns a group project.

"you’ll be working in pairs," she says. "check the list for your partner."

you scan the names, looking for yours, and freeze.

park jongseong.

"you’ve got to be kidding me," you mutter.

"what?" minju asks, peering over your shoulder. then she snorts. "oh. wow. the universe really has it out for you."

you groan, dropping your head onto the desk.

"who’d you get?"

you glance up to see jisung standing beside you, holding his own paper.

"jay," minju answers for you.

jisung grimaces. "yikes."

"yep."

before you can say anything else, someone taps your shoulder.

"guess we’re partners," jay says, voice far too amused.

you sigh. "don’t remind me.”

—

working with jay is… not as painful as you expected.

you still don’t like him. obviously. but he’s not completely useless.

turns out, he’s actually smart. and organized. he doesn’t slack off or make you do all the work. and—annoyingly—he’s kind of funny.

you realize this when you’re both at the library, bouncing ideas off each other.

"okay, so we could go with this topic," you say, scrolling through the research.

jay hums. "or we could pick something that won’t make me want to throw myself off a building."

you bite back a smile. "dramatic much?"

"you’re underestimating my ability to get bored."

"i think that’s just your problem."

jay gasps, placing a hand over his chest. "ouch. i thought we were bonding."

"we’re working."

"same thing."

you shake your head, but you don’t argue.

slowly, things shift.

you still tell yourself that jay is just playing a game. but sometimes, you catch him looking at you—really looking—and for a moment, it doesn’t feel like one.

like when you’re at the library, and you yawn without thinking.

"tired?" he asks.

"obviously."

without a word, he slides his drink toward you.

you blink. "what—"

"it’s an americano," he says simply.

you hesitate, then take a sip. "it’s sweet."

jay shrugs. "i like sugar."

you give him a look. "so you were way off when you guessed my order last time."

he grins. "guess so."

you shake your head, but you don’t push the drink back.

—

"okay, so he’s not the worst person alive," you admit later.

minju stares at you. "who are you and what have you done with my friend?"

"i’m serious," you say. "he’s… fine. actually kind of helpful."

minju sighs. "that’s how it starts."

"how what starts?"

"you start thinking he’s not that bad. then, before you know it, you’re catching feelings."

"i’m not catching anything."

she gives you a look. "just be careful, okay? he’s only this persistent because you’re the first person to say no."

you nod, but her words stick in your head.

you tell yourself you don’t care.

but then one night, you’re leaving the library, and jay is waiting outside.

"walking alone at this hour?" he muses. "dangerous."

you raise an eyebrow. "and you’re what? my bodyguard?"

jay smirks. "i could be."

"no thanks."

"still," he says, falling into step beside you. "i’ll walk you back."

"you don’t have to."

"i know."

you sigh, but you let him.

the walk is quiet, save for the sound of your footsteps. when you reach your building, you stop.

"this is me," you say.

jay nods. "guess i’ll see you tomorrow."

"guess so."

he hesitates, then lifts a hand, ruffling your hair before you can react.

you blink. "what the—"

he just grins. "goodnight."

then he’s gone, leaving you standing there, heart doing something it definitely shouldn’t be doing.

this is bad.

really bad.

—

the next party is loud, too loud. music shakes the floor, conversations overlap, and the air is thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat. you don’t even know why you’re here.

well. you do.

minju dragged you out, saying you’ve been too cooped up with schoolwork and your stupid group project (which, unfortunately, includes jay park). jisung backed her up, insisting you needed to “socialize like a normal human being.”

so now you’re here, standing in the corner of someone’s crowded apartment, gripping a half-empty cup of soda because you don’t drink, and pretending you’re interested in whatever minju is talking about.

until you see him.

jay.

you tell yourself you shouldn’t be surprised. parties are his thing, after all. loud music, dim lighting, a sea of people who’d fall into his arms without hesitation.

he fits right in.

too well.

you spot him across the room, leaning against the wall, that lazy smirk on his lips. there’s a girl beside him, standing too close, laughing at something he just said. she tilts her head, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. jay doesn’t move away.

he says something else, something that makes her giggle, and then he leans in,,, just a little.

your stomach twists.

it’s stupid. so, so stupid.

this is what he does. this is who he is. he flirts with everyone. you’ve seen it before. you knew this about him before he even knew your name.

but tonight, it bothers you.

you don’t know why, and you don’t want to think about it.

"you okay?" minju asks, nudging your arm.

"yeah," you say too quickly. "just… tired."

she eyes you but doesn’t press. "wanna leave soon?"

you nod. "yeah."

but before you can say anything else, you feel a presence beside you.

"hey," a familiar voice says.

you turn, and there he is.

jay.

his smirk is gone.

"what do you want?" you ask, not in the mood for whatever game he’s playing tonight.

he hesitates, glancing at minju, then back at you. "can we talk?"

"no."

he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "please?"

minju looks between the two of you, then slowly backs away. "i’ll be over there," she says, pointing to jisung.

you cross your arms. "what?"

jay doesn’t answer right away. instead, he exhales, then jerks his head toward the door. "outside?"

you should say no. you should walk away. but there’s something in his eyes, something that makes your chest feel too tight, so you follow him out.

the cool night air is a relief against your heated skin. outside, the noise is muffled, distant, like the party belongs to a different world.

you stop a few steps away from the door, crossing your arms. "well?"

jay shoves his hands into his pockets. "you looked upset."

you scoff. "why do you care?"

"because," he says, stepping closer, "i do."

you laugh, but it’s humorless. "you flirt with someone else, then come running after me? what is this, jay?"

his jaw tightens. "it’s not like that."

"really? because it sure as hell looked like it."

"you think i do this with everyone?" his voice is sharper now, frustration leaking through. "yeah, i flirt, but this,whatever this is, is different, and you know it."

your breath catches.

different.

he said it first.

but that doesn’t change anything.

"do i?" you challenge. "because it looks exactly the same to me."

jay groans, running a hand through his hair. "i didn’t even realize what i was doing."

"that’s not making this better."

"i know!" he snaps. "i just—fuck."

he exhales, tilting his head back like he’s trying to find the right words in the sky. then, softer, he says, "it’s a habit, okay? flirting, keeping things surface-level. that’s just how i’ve always been."

you swallow, suddenly unsure. "then why are you here?"

jay takes another step forward, close enough that you can see the tension in his shoulders, the crease in his brows.

"because i don’t want this to be surface-level," he admits. "not with you."

the words knock the air out of your lungs.

for a moment, neither of you speak.

then you say, "so what? you want me to believe that you’re suddenly different?"

"i don’t know," he admits. "but i know i don’t want to fuck this up."

you stare at him, at the raw honesty in his expression.

this is dangerous territory.

you should walk away.

you don’t.

but then you think about that girl inside, the way he leaned in so easily, the way it took him this long to come after you.

"you say that," you murmur, voice quieter now, "but you still went back to your usual thing the second i wasn’t around."

jay flinches.

"it didn’t mean anything," he says, quickly, desperately. "i wasn’t even thinking about her."

"exactly," you say bitterly. "you weren’t thinking at all."

jay opens his mouth, then closes it.

"you don’t even realize what you’re doing," you continue, voice tight. "you don’t realize how easily you slip into old habits. you say this is different, but are you sure?"

"yes," jay says, without hesitation.

you laugh, but it’s broken. "then why do i feel like i’m just setting myself up to get hurt?"

he doesn’t have an answer for that.

silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating.

jay looks like he wants to say something, to fix this somehow, but what is there to fix? he’s still the same jay park who flirts with everyone, who doesn’t think before he acts, who only realizes too late that he might actually care.

"you’re not ready for this," you whisper.

"i am," he insists, but there’s something fragile in his voice, something that tells you even he isn’t sure if he’s telling the truth.

you shake your head. "i don’t think you are."

jay reaches out, just a little, like he wants to touch you, like he wants you to stay.

but you step back.

his hand drops.

and with that, you turn around and walk away.

jay doesn’t call after you.

he doesn’t chase you this time.

and maybe that tells you everything you need to know.

—

you avoid him.

it’s not hard at first. you’re in different years, different circles. you stop going to the café where you know he likes to hang out between classes, ignore the parties minju tries to drag you to, and duck your head whenever you spot him on campus.

the only problem is that jay notices.

you’re not sure when it happens, but at some point, jay park—fuckboy, campus heartbreaker, the guy who shouldn’t care—is suddenly watching you.

you feel it in the way his eyes linger too long when you pass by in the hallway, in the way his conversations falter when you’re around, in the way his whole demeanor shifts whenever you deliberately turn away.

he doesn’t chase after you.

but he’s not ignoring it, either.

and that’s what makes it worse.

it would be easier if he didn’t care, if he went right back to flirting with someone else like nothing ever happened. but he doesn’t.

and that terrifies you.

so you run faster.

"okay, what is wrong with you?"

jay exhales sharply, gripping the pool cue tighter. "nothing."

"bullshit."

heeseung snatches the stick out of his hands before he can even attempt a shot. jay scowls, reaching for it, but heeseung just leans away.

"bro, you’ve been in the worst mood for, like, a week," jake says, spinning an unmarked beer bottle between his fingers. "just admit it."

jay glares. "admit what?"

heeseung rolls his eyes. "that you’re being a little bitch about this whole thing."

jay scoffs. "about what?"

"oh my god," jake groans. "are you in denial, or just stupid?"

jay clenches his jaw. "neither."

heeseung and jake share a look, and jay hates that they’re silently communicating in that annoying, knowing way that only best friends do.

"listen," heeseung starts, "you don’t do feelings. we get it. but this? whatever’s happening between you and—"

"don’t say their name," jay mutters, looking away.

heeseung smirks. "oh, so you do care?"

jay exhales, tilting his head back against the worn leather of the booth.

fuck.

he doesn’t know what this is.

he just knows that it sucks.

he didn’t think avoiding them would be a big deal. people walk away from him all the time, sometimes before he can even do it first.

but this?

this feels different.

it feels like something is missing. like something is slipping through his fingers and he’s too fucking slow to catch it.

"you don’t even like people," jake points out.

jay sighs. "i like you guys."

"yeah, but we don’t count," heeseung snorts. "we’re basically required to deal with your bullshit."

jay scoffs, shoving his shoulder, but heeseung just grins.

then, quieter, he says, "this is the first time you’ve actually looked miserable over someone."

jay doesn’t answer.

"so what are you gonna do about it?" jake asks.

jay exhales, drumming his fingers against the table.

he doesn’t know.

but he knows he can’t keep pretending this is nothing.

not anymore.

—

you don’t know why you look.

it’s just a normal afternoon. you’re heading toward the library, minju walking beside you, talking about something jisung said earlier.

and then you see him.

jay is standing near the campus courtyard, golden light catching the sharp edges of his jawline. he’s not alone.

there’s a girl with him. she’s standing close—too close. her hand is on his arm, fingers curling lightly around the sleeve of his jacket. she laughs at something he says, head tilting, eyes locked on his.

and jay?

jay just smiles.

it’s the same smile you’ve seen before, the same effortless charm, the same easy confidence that has made him a campus legend. he leans in slightly, talking low, his posture relaxed like he’s done this a thousand times.

because he has.

your chest tightens.

"hey, you okay?" minju asks beside you, nudging your arm.

you snap your gaze away, pulse quickening. you shouldn’t care. you knew what he was like before you even met him. you knew he flirted with anyone he found attractive, that he never had to try, that he never faced rejection.

you knew he was never meant to be serious.

so why does it feel like something inside you is caving in?

"yeah," you mumble. "just remembered something i have to do."

minju frowns, but you don’t give her a chance to question it. before she can say anything, you turn and walk the other way, ignoring the burning feeling in your chest.

you don’t look back.

and jay doesn’t notice you leaving.

yet, jay can tell something’s wrong.

he doesn’t know what it is, but he can feel it.

it’s in the way you won’t look at him, the way you walk past him like he’s just another face in the crowd.

at first, he thinks he’s imagining it. you were never friends to begin with—maybe you were just busy, maybe this is normal.

but the shift is undeniable.

before, you’d at least acknowledge him. you’d give him a polite nod, a passing glance, sometimes even a subtle eyeroll when you caught him flirting.

now?

nothing.

he sees you on campus, and you don’t even flinch.

he walks past your usual café, and you’re not there.

he catches you in the library and for a second. just a second. he swears you meet his gaze.

but then you turn away.

like he’s not even there.

he doesn’t plan to confront you.

but after a week of this, of whatever this is, he finds himself standing outside your dorm, hands shoved in his pockets, frustration bubbling under his skin.

he doesn’t even know why he’s here.

it’s not like you owe him anything.

but still, he knocks.

no answer.

he exhales sharply, rocking back on his heels, debating whether to try again.

then, he hears footsteps.

"what are you doing here?"

jay turns, finding jisung standing a few feet away, arms crossed.

"looking for y/n," jay says. "they’ve been… acting weird."

jisung raises an eyebrow. "and you just noticed?"

jay frowns. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

jisung exhales, shaking his head. "they saw you," he says simply.

jay’s stomach tightens. "...what?"

"the other day. in the courtyard. with that girl."

jay blinks, the memory slotting into place. shit.

"they saw you smiling at her," jisung continues, his voice even but firm. "letting her touch you. looking at her the way they thought—" he stops himself, sighing. "never mind."

jay’s pulse kicks up. "you think they—"

"they think they were stupid for believing you might actually be different with them," jisung cuts in, sharper now. "they think they almost fell for the same bullshit you pull on everyone else."

jay clenches his jaw.

fuck.

he wasn’t thinking. he didn’t even realize.

but now, remembering the moment, the way the girl had laughed, the way she had leaned in, the way he hadn’t pulled away—

he understands.

and it feels like he just lost something important without even knowing he had it.

"if you’re gonna say something, make it worth their time," jisung says. "because right now? they don’t want anything to do with you."

jay doesn’t answer.

because for the first time in his life, he’s the one who got it wrong.

he’s the one who let something real slip through his fingers.

and he has no idea how to fix it.

but he knows one thing—

he has to try.

—

you don’t expect him to be waiting for you.

it’s late. you just finished a study session with minju, and all you want is to go back to your dorm, crawl under the covers, and forget about everything—forget about him.

but as soon as you step into the dimly lit hallway leading to your room, you see him.

jay.

leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, jaw tight, eyes dark with something unreadable.

your heart stutters.

you hesitate, debating whether to turn around, pretend you didn’t see him. but then he looks up—really looks at you—and you know there’s no escape.

"we need to talk," he says, pushing off the wall.

fuck jisung for letting him in.

"i don’t think we do," you mutter, stepping past him, reaching for your door.

but before you can, jay moves, his hand catching your wrist—gently, cautiously, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

"please," he says.

you freeze.

he’s never said please before. at least, not like this. not as desperate as this.

slowly, you turn to face him, sighing. "jay—"

"just let me say this," he cuts in, eyes burning with something raw, something you’ve never seen on him before. desperation.

you press your lips together but nod.

jay exhales, running a hand through his hair. "i—fuck, i don’t know how to do this," he mutters, shaking his head. "i’m not good at this."

"then don’t," you say, voice sharper than you intended. "don’t stand here and feed me some excuse about how you 'don’t do relationships' or 'didn’t mean to hurt me.' i don’t want to hear it."

jay flinches. "that’s not what i was gonna say."

you cross your arms. "then what?"

he swallows hard, eyes flickering to the floor before meeting yours again. "i—i don’t know how to do this, because i’ve never felt like this before."

your breath catches.

"i didn’t even realize what i was doing," jay continues, voice quieter now. "i didn’t think. i’ve never had to. flirting, messing around—it’s just… easy. but you—" he exhales sharply. "you make things different."

you shake your head. "jay—"

"i don’t want anyone else," he interrupts, stepping closer, voice steady. "just you."

your chest tightens.

"and when you get bored?" you ask, voice barely above a whisper. "when someone new comes along?"

jay shakes his head immediately. "i don’t think i could ever get bored of you."

it’s too much.

too much to believe, too much to trust, too much to risk.

"how am i supposed to believe that?" you ask, eyes searching his face. "how am i supposed to believe you won’t wake up one day and decide i was just another name on your list?"

jay exhales, stepping even closer, until there’s barely any space between you. "because no one’s ever made me feel like this before."

your pulse is loud in your ears.

"i don’t know how to do relationships," he admits, voice low, honest. "i don’t know how to be what you deserve. but i want to try. i want to figure it out—with you."

he’s so close now. close enough that you can smell the faint scent of his cologne, close enough that you can see the hesitation in his eyes, the fear of being rejected, of losing you.

you shouldn’t.

you should walk away.

you should protect yourself, guard your heart, not fall for the one person who could break you the easiest.

but then jay reaches up, fingers brushing against your cheek, his touch hesitant, almost trembling.

"please," he murmurs, his voice almost breaking.

jay park—unshakable, confident, the fuckboy—is breaking in front of you.

and against all logic, all reason—you fall.

before you can think, before you can stop yourself, you close the space between you.

his breath catches, just for a second, before his lips press against yours, warm and desperate.

jay kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, like he’s trying to prove every word he just said. his hands cup your face, pulling you closer, holding you like you’re something fragile—something precious.

and when you kiss him back, letting yourself believe—just for this moment—that maybe, just maybe, this could be real, he sighs against your lips, like he’s just found something he’s been searching for all along.

—

your relationship with jay park is different.

you knew it wouldn’t be easy, falling for someone who never had to try, who never had to work for love. but you never expected this.

never expected him to try so hard.

at first, it’s awkward. jay doesn’t know what he’s doing. he’s used to effortless flirting, meaningless hookups, relationships that start and end in the span of a night.

but with you?

he wants to be better. he wants to be different.

so he does things he’s never done before.

he waits for you after class, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, eyes lighting up when he sees you.

"did you eat?" he asks one day, falling into step beside you.

you blink. "uh… yeah?"

jay nods, looking relieved. "okay. cool. just—yeah. cool."

he’s awkward. jay park, campus fuckboy, the smooth talker who never falters, is awkward.

you bite back a smile. "did you eat?"

he hesitates.

you raise an eyebrow. "jay."

he clears his throat. "…no."

you sigh, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him toward the campus café. he lets you, grinning like you just gave him the world.

the first time he reaches for your hand, it’s so casual that you almost miss it.

you’re sitting next to each other, watching a movie in the dorm common room. your hand rests between you, fingers brushing against his.

then, slowly, hesitantly, jay links his pinky with yours.

your heart stutters.

you glance at him, but he’s staring straight at the screen, his jaw tight, his ears slightly red.

you bite your lip.

then, without a word, you let your fingers slip fully into his.

jay stiffens for half a second. then, his grip tightens, and he exhales, shoulders relaxing.

he doesn’t let go for the rest of the movie.

he’s not used to jealousy.

or rather, he’s not used to his own jealousy.

he’s seen people get possessive over him before, watched girls glare when he flirted with someone new, felt the heat of their disappointment when they realized he wasn’t theirs.

but now?

now he understands.

he understands because he’s standing in the middle of campus, watching some guy—some random guy—smile at you like he has a chance.

and jay hates it.

he crosses the distance before he can think, sliding an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his side.

"hey, baby," he murmurs, voice low, casual, possessive.

your eyes widen. "jay?"

"who’s this?" jay asks, looking at the guy.

the guy blinks, glancing between the two of you. "uh, just—just a classmate."

jay smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. "cool. yeah. we gotta go, though."

you barely have time to say goodbye before jay is leading you away, his grip firm but gentle.

once you’re out of earshot, you elbow him. "what was that?"

jay shrugs. "didn’t like the way he was looking at you."

you roll your eyes. "you can’t just—"

he stops walking, turning to face you, eyes serious. "i know i don’t have the right," he admits. "but i don’t like it. i don’t like the idea of someone else thinking they can have you."

your breath catches.

"you’re mine," jay says, voice softer now. "right?"

you stare at him for a moment.

then, finally, you sigh, reaching up to flick his forehead.

"yeah," you mutter. "i’m yours."

jay grins, rubbing his forehead. "damn right."

heeseung and jake pretend to be disgusted.

"you’re whipped," jake says, shaking his head.

"nah, man, this is worse than we thought," heeseung adds. "he’s holding hands in public."

jay glares at them from across the table, but he doesn’t let go of your hand.

"you guys are just mad i have a functional love life," he says.

jake snorts. "yeah, sure. functional."

"bet he calls them ‘baby’ over text," heeseung whispers loudly.

jake gasps. "you think he—"

"shut up," jay groans.

you’re trying not to laugh. "do you?"

jay glares at you, but his ears are red. "i hate you."

you grin. "you love me."

jay rolls his eyes.

but then, under the table, he gives your hand a squeeze.

and you know—

even if he’ll never admit it out loud—

he really does.

—

you constantly look back and don’t know when you started believing him.

maybe it was the first time he held your hand without thinking, his fingers curling around yours so naturally, like he didn’t need to pretend anymore.

or maybe it was when he let you steal his hoodie, even though you were sure he’d never let anyone do that before.

or maybe—just maybe—it was when you saw the way he looked at you.

because it’s different now.

jay park, the guy who used to flirt with anyone just for fun, the guy who never stuck around, only looks at you.

"okay, but seriously," jake says, pointing a fry at jay. "how the hell did this happen?"

you’re sitting in the corner booth of a diner near campus, squeezed between jay and the wall. heeseung and jake are across from you, both staring like you’re some kind of unsolvable mystery.

jay takes a slow sip of his drink. "what do you mean?"

"you!" heeseung gestures wildly. "relationship jay. committed jay. ‘not flirting with every breathing human’ jay."

"it’s called growth," jay deadpans.

"it’s called ‘i fell first, and i fell hard,’" jake teases, smirking.

jay huffs. "whatever, man."

but he doesn’t deny it.

heeseung leans forward, grinning. "okay, but who confessed first?"

jay opens his mouth—

"me, obviously," you interrupt.

jay’s head snaps toward you. "what?"

you shrug. "you’re a coward. took you forever to admit you liked me."

jake laughs. "ohhh, he got you there."

jay glares at you, but you just smile, nudging his foot under the table.

you laugh, “joking, it’s complicated.”

heeseung rests his chin in his palm. "man, i never thought i’d see the day."

"what day?" you ask, amused.

"the day jay park became a simp."

jay groans, burying his face in his hands. "i hate all of you."

you pat his arm. "no, you don’t."

he exhales, tilting his head to look at you. his eyes soften.

"yeah," he murmurs. "i don’t."

—

later that night, after jay walks you back to your dorm, you linger outside the door.

he doesn’t leave right away.

instead, he leans against the wall, hands in his pockets, just looking at you.

you tilt your head. "what?"

jay hesitates, then exhales sharply.

"it’s weird," he mutters. "this whole time, i thought i had everything figured out. i thought i knew what i wanted. but then you came along, and suddenly, nothing made sense anymore."

your chest tightens.

"i didn’t get it at first," jay continues, eyes flickering to the ground. "why i got so annoyed when you ignored me. why i kept looking for you in every room. why i couldn’t flirt with anyone else without feeling like it was wrong."

he finally meets your gaze.

"but now i do."

your fingers tighten around the door handle, heartbeat loud in your ears.

"i don’t want to be the guy i was before," he murmurs. "not with you."

you swallow. "jay—"

"i know i’m not good at this," he cuts in. "i know i’m gonna mess up. i know i don’t deserve you."

his voice drops lower, almost hesitant. almost afraid.

"but i want to try. and i want you to let me."

for a moment, neither of you speak.

then, finally—

you sigh, shaking your head. "god, you’re such an idiot."

jay blinks. "huh?"

you step forward, grabbing the collar of his hoodie and pulling him down until your foreheads touch.

"you’ve had me this whole time," you murmur.

jay’s breath stutters.

then, slowly—hesitantly—his arms wrap around you, holding you against him, warm and real.

"yeah?" he whispers.

you nod. "yeah."

jay exhales a shaky laugh, squeezing you tighter.

"thank god," he mutters. "i don’t think i could’ve handled losing you."

you smile against his shoulder.

coffee sloshes out of the cup, splattering the floor and the front of someone’s black hoodie. you freeze, heart thudding.

“shit, i’m so sorry—” you start, looking up—

and then up. and up. because the guy you’ve just doused is tall. ridiculously tall. he blinks at you, stunned for half a second, before this slow, familiar grin spreads across his face.

“hyung?” he says, voice somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

you blink at him, brain buffering. the face is vaguely familiar, sharp jawline and messy hair and a glint in his eyes that you can’t quite place.

“you grew,” he says, laughing as he plucks the empty coffee cup out of your hand and tosses it in a nearby trash can. “you’re still tiny though.”

you stare, heat creeping up your neck. tiny? who does he—

and then it clicks.

the way his nose crinkles when he laughs. the way he tilts his head, waiting for you to recognize him.

“riki?” you say, almost a question.

his grin widens. “you remember.”

you do, but it’s like an unconfortable amazement. because the last time you saw nishimura riki, he was twelve years old, barely up to your chin. he had just moved to korea, awkward and shy and homesick, and you, freshly eighteen and cocky with the title of “part-time babysitter” had been assigned to look after him.

he’s not that kid anymore. not even close.

“you got tall,” you mutter, dazed.

he laughs, and it’s deeper now, richer. “yeah. you didn’t.”

you scowl instinctively, and that just makes him laugh harder, like it’s the most natural thing in the world after not seeing eachother for about 8 years. like there’s not a solid foot of height difference between you now.

“still cute though,” he adds, and then winks.

you’re too stunned to respond, standing there while he and his group, enhypen, shuffle around you, offering half-hearted apologies and amused glances. someone hands you a napkin. ni-ki doesn’t move his arm until one of his members drags him away by the sleeve, still grinning at you over his shoulder.

you’re left in the hallway, clutching the napkin

later, when you’re sitting in the boynextdoor practice room, trying to scrub coffee stains out of your jacket with a half-dry wet wipe, your mind drifts back to earlier. to him.

to the way he’d had to double take when he saw you. like he wasn’t expecting you at all. like he was happy.

you chuckle under your breath, shaking your head.

you remember that kid, the one who used to tug on your sleeve and show you secret corners of the trainee dorms, dragging you into trouble with his bright-eyed plans. the one who fell asleep on your shoulder halfway through every movie you put on.

you hadn’t thought much about where he might end up. hadn’t pictured him all grown up.

but there he is now. somehow taller than everyone in the hallway. flashing the same grin like no time had passed. it’s weird, seeing someone you used to babysit look so… grown.

but it’s not a bad feeling. just strange. like looking at a before-and-after photo you didn’t know you were waiting for.

you shrug it off. he’s just being friendly. you did spend months babysitting him, after all. maybe he’s just happy to see a familiar face. you let it go.

except, you keep running into him.

hallways, practice rooms, elevators. it’s almost funny how often your paths cross. and somehow, every time, ni-ki’s there first, already grinning like he knows a secret.

he leans on your shoulder casually whenever you’re standing close, treating you like his personal armrest.

he tosses snacks at you like it’s a sport, flipping bags of chips across rooms with scary precision.

he lingers after rehearsals, pretending he’s looking for something he dropped, just so he can stick around a little longer.

“you’re really bad at pretending you’re not following me,” you joke one afternoon, catching him loitering by the vending machines again.

ni-ki just smirks, handing you a cold can of coffee without being asked. “maybe i’m not pretending.”

you snort, bumping your shoulder into his without thinking. easy. familiar. like slipping into an old hoodie you forgot you loved.

he’s always teasing you about your height, too, leaning down exaggeratedly when he talks to you, grinning like he’s waiting for you to get mad.

“swear i grew another inch this week,” he says once, ruffling your hair before you can duck away. “you’re basically a collectible now.”

you roll your eyes, laughing despite yourself.

it’s just ni-ki being riki.

it feels almost normal, falling back into this pattern. even if he’s bigger now. sharper around the edges. a little more confident than the kid you remember.

you’re not overthinking it. you don’t need to overthink it. he’s just someone from your past, someone who you helped make trainee life a little less lonely, finding you again.

you’re just…happy he’s doing well. that’s all.

but sometimes you catch yourself staring at him, across practice rooms, down long corridors. you can’t help but think about how fast everything changes.

he used to be the homesick kid you snuck extra snacks for. the one who needed you to stay up late playing video games so he could fall asleep with company.

now he’s chatting with the members of the group you’re managing, about to record a collab video to advertise the recent comebacks.

you clear your throat and flick your pen against your clipboard, focusing on your task list.

it’s good to see him again. really good. but you’ve got a job to do. and he’s got his own path, too. whatever this is, friendship, familiarity, something in between, you’re just glad you didn’t lose it.

—

you’re running on fumes by the time the day ends.

it feels like you’ve been putting out fires since noon. double-booked schedules, a last-minute venue change, two different members bickering over nothing. your head’s buzzing from all the noise.

so you escape. just for a second.

you find an empty breakroom tucked into the corner of the floor, dim and too quiet, and drop yourself onto the nearest couch like a puppet whose strings got cut. you lean forward, elbows on your knees, hands dangling. just breathing.

you don’t even hear the door creak open. not until a cold can taps lightly against your knee.

you blink up.

ni-ki’s standing there, casual, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket. he doesn’t say anything. just nudges the drink toward you again, like: take it, dummy.

you crack open a tired smile, accepting it. “you stalking me or something?”

he huffs a laugh and slides down onto the couch beside you, slouching until his knees are practically level with yours.

“could smell the burnout from the hallway,” he says easily.

you snort, tipping your head back against the cushion. “yeah, well. it’s been a day.”

you expect him to crack another joke, something about you getting old and fragile or short and tiny, but he doesn’t. he just sits there, his shoulder a warm line of comfort next to yours, fiddling idly with the tab on his drink.

it’s… nice. the quiet. the way he’s not pushing you to talk, just being there. you take a sip, the coldness biting pleasantly at your throat, and let yourself laugh under your breath.

“you’re weird, you know that?” you murmur, side-eyeing him. “not a lot of people would track me down just to hand me a drink.”

ni-ki shrugs, mouth tilting into a small smile. “not a lot of people babysat me through my weird dancer phase,” he says, casual as anything.

you chuckle. yeah. you did live through that era..

for a second, it’s easy to believe you’re just those two people again, him, the stubborn kid dragging you into whatever weird idea he had next, and you, the one trailing behind.

you’re about to say something stupid, something like, ‘you turned out alright’

when he speaks again, it’s soft. like he’s thought about it for a while.

“i’ve liked you forever, you know.”

the words land like a dart hitting the exact center of a target. sharp. impossible to ignore.

you blink, mid-sip, nearly choking. “huh?”

he shifts, turning a little to face you, expression open and weirdly calm, like he’s not just detonating your entire brain with a single sentence.

“i used to think it would go away when i grew up,” ni-ki says, eyes steady. “but… it didn’t.”

your brain shorts out. completely.

liked. you.

liked you.

used to? didn’t? WHAT.

you stare at him, mouth slightly open, like he’s suddenly started speaking a language you don’t understand because the lingering after practices, the snacks, the teasing, the leaning down so he could look you in the eye, like it was some kind of private joke.

you thought—

you genuinely thought he was just being friendly. nostalgic. grateful.

not this.

not into you.

your ears burn. you’re pretty sure your soul just left your body.

‘the kid i used to babysit is into me??’

in caps. bolded. flashing like a giant neon sign. actually caps doesn’t even show how stunned you are.

you make a sound. a wheezy, useless one.

then you laugh, awkward and breathless and absolutely struck with something, rubbing the back of your neck because your hands don’t know what else to do.

“i… i’m sorry,” you stammer out, the words tumbling over themselves. “i didn’t—i mean, i didn’t notice. at all. seriously. i’m the biggest idiot, huh?”

ni-ki laughs too. a little embarrassed, sure, but there’s relief in it too, like he was bracing for something worse.

“you noticed now,” he says simply, bumping your shoulder with his. “that’s enough.”

you sit there, heart hammering away in your chest, trying to catch up to the reality you just crash-landed into.

ni-ki likes you. riki has liked you. for years, probably.

and somehow, you, who prides yourself on noticing everything, missed every single sign.

you glance sideways at him. he’s leaning back against the couch now, sipping his drink like nothing earth-shattering just happened. like he didn’t just turn your world slightly sideways.

and he’s still riki. still the kid who used to tug you out to the park on weekends. still the one who fell asleep next to you with his shoes half-on.

just… taller now. steadier. more himself than ever.

you breathe out slowly. “can i be honest?” you say, voice a little hoarse.

ni-ki tilts his head, waiting.

“i… need a little time,” you admit, fiddling with the tab of your can. “not because i don’t… like you—” you break off, not sure how to finish that sentence without lying. “just… it’s a lot to process, you know?”

he smiles. small, but real. “take all the time you want,” he says, standing and stretching like a cat. “i’m not going anywhere.”

you watch him walk to the door, tall, unhurried, somehow carrying the same stubborn hope he always had. you watch him grin over his shoulder one more time before slipping out, the door clicking shut behind him.

you stare at the empty room.

your heart’s still fluttering. soft and persistent. like it’s remembering something your brain hasn’t caught up to yet.

you drag a hand over your face, groaning under your breath. “maybe i’m into him” you mutter to yourself.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

tysm for reading :>

enha taglist :

jaehyun is a bit of a mess, but he listens when you talk and tries to be helpful. sungho is sharp. he catches onto things quickly and has a habit of teasing you whenever he gets the chance. riwoo is cool, the kind of guy who doesn’t need to say much to make you feel like he’s paying attention. woonhak is chaos personified, always keeping you on your toes. taesan is effortlessly charming, the kind of guy who knows exactly what he’s doing when he flirts. and leehan… leehan mostly stays in the background, at least at first.

but then things start to shift.

it’s subtle, in the beginning.

jaehyun starts lingering more, standing beside you even when there’s no real reason for him to be there. he’s not the smoothest about it either. one time, you catch him fixing his hair in the reflection of a camera lens before turning to you like he didn’t just spend the last minute making sure he looked good.

“what do you think?” he asks, gesturing vaguely at himself.

you raise an eyebrow. “about what?”

he falters. “just… in general.”

sungho, who’s been watching from the side, snorts. “that was terrible.”

jaehyun groans, rubbing the back of his neck. you laugh, shaking your head before moving on to check the schedule. behind you, sungho pats jaehyun’s shoulder like he’s both proud and disappointed.

then there’s riwoo. he doesn’t say much, but you notice the way he’s always nearby. he’s good at making himself seem casual, like he just happens to be where you are. when you’re going over schedules, he leans over your shoulder, humming in acknowledgment whenever you say something. when you adjust a mic pack on one of the members, he’s right there, watching with quiet focus.

“you okay?” you ask him once, catching him staring.

he blinks, then nods. “just watching.”

woonhak, on the other hand, isn’t subtle at all.

he’s the type to cling, throwing an arm around your shoulders or dramatically leaning against you like he’s exhausted. he finds ways to drag you into whatever chaos he’s creating, whether it’s an impromptu dance-off or a dumb bet against one of the others.

“if i win, you have to buy me food,” he declares one day, challenging sungho to some ridiculous game.

“and if you lose?” you ask, arms crossed.

he grins. “then you have to buy me food.”

“that’s not how bets work.”

“it is now.”

taesan, though. taesan is different.

he’s smooth, casual in the way he flirts. it’s never too much, just enough to make you wonder if he’s being serious.

“you always take such good care of us,” he says one day, voice lower than usual. “you’re making it hard not to fall for you.”

you roll your eyes, pushing his shoulder. “get back to rehearsal, pretty boy.”

he winks before jogging off, and you pretend not to notice the way your ears feel warm.

leehan is the hardest to read.

at first, he doesn’t really do anything. he stays in the background, observing more than he interacts. but you start noticing things. how he pays attention to what you say, how he picks up on small details about you that even you don’t realize you’ve shared.

one day, you’re standing by the monitors, watching the members run through their performance. leehan steps up beside you, hands in his pockets.

“you’ve been busy today,” he says.

you shrug. “it’s work.”

he nods but doesn’t say anything else. still, he stays next to you until the song ends.

it all builds up gradually, until you start to feel like something is… off.

you don’t realize you’ve become the center of some unspoken competition until one day, when they’re all gathered in the same room, the tension finally bubbles over.

“you’ve been hogging him all day,” sungho points out, arms crossed as he looks at jaehyun.

“what? no i haven’t!” jaehyun protests, looking guilty.

“you kind of have,” woonhak chimes in. “not very smoothly, either.”

jaehyun glares. “like you’re any better?”

riwoo, leaning against the wall, sighs. “this is stupid.”

“you’re only saying that because you’ve been pulling the ‘silent and mysterious’ card,” taesan retorts.

leehan just watches, expression unreadable.

you, meanwhile, stand in the middle of it all, blinking. “what is going on?”

the room falls silent.

they all look at you, then at each other.

and then, as if realizing at the same time that they’ve just exposed themselves, they all start talking at once.

“nothing—”

“they started it—”

“it’s not what it looks like—”

you cross your arms. “really? because it kind of looks like you’re all fighting over something.”

more silence.

finally, woonhak, ever the wildcard, sighs dramatically. “fine. we might be… competing a little.”

you blink. “competing? for what?”

the room goes dead silent.

jaehyun scratches his head, sungho looks away, riwoo suddenly finds the floor interesting, taesan just smirks like he’s in on a joke you’re not, and leehan just smirks like the oddball he is.

you look between them, waiting for an answer. when none comes, you huff. “whatever. you guys are weird.”

sungho snickers. “and you’re slow.”

you frown. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothing,” jaehyun blurts out, a little too quickly.

you narrow your eyes at them but decide it’s not worth the headache. turning on your heel, you wave them off. “i don’t get paid enough for this.”

as you walk away, you can hear them whispering behind you.

definitely weird.

—

you don’t think much of it when jaehyun asks if you want to grab food.

it’s after a long day, and you’re usually with the members anyway, so it doesn’t feel out of the ordinary. besides, you’re hungry, and jaehyun’s easy to be around, even if he’s kind of a mess half the time.

“there’s this place near the dorms,” he says, practically bouncing as you walk out together. “i swear, best tteokbokki i’ve ever had.”

you raise an eyebrow. “you say that about every place.”

“okay, but this time i mean it.”

jaehyun has this energy about him. excitable, a little all over the place, but never in a way that’s overwhelming. it’s actually kind of nice. you’re used to being the staff member, the one who has to be responsible, keep things in check. but with jaehyun, it’s easy to just relax.

you get to the restaurant, and it’s small but cozy, the kind of place you know he’s been to a lot.

“i got this,” he says confidently, grabbing the menu. “order whatever you want.”

you glance at him, amused. “jaehyun, you don’t have to—”

“nah, i insist,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “my treat.”

you sigh, but you don’t argue. he looks way too proud of himself, like he just won some grand prize.

the two of you chat while waiting for the food, and you have to admit. jaehyun’s fun. he’s got this dumb sense of humor that somehow always lands, and he doesn’t mind laughing at himself, which makes conversations easy.

everything is going fine. until, of course, jaehyun is jaehyun.

he gestures a little too enthusiastically while talking about some game he’s been obsessed with, and before you can react, his elbow knocks over his drink.

straight onto his lap.

“oh, come on,” he groans, jumping up as ice cubes scatter everywhere.

you try not to laugh. you really do. but the way he stands there, arms slightly raised like he has no idea what to do, makes it impossible.

“dude,” you snort, shaking your head. “how do you even function daily?”

“poorly,” he admits, grabbing a handful of napkins and dabbing at his soaked jeans. “very poorly.”

you take pity on him and help, handing over more napkins while he mutters about how he’s never trusting himself with drinks again.

when the food arrives, he finally sits back down, slightly damp but mostly unbothered. “okay. we forget that ever happened.”

“sure,” you say, still amused.

despite the disaster, the rest of the meal is nice. jaehyun’s easy to talk to, and before you know it, you’ve been sitting there for over an hour, laughing and chatting like you’ve known each other forever.

and that’s the thing about him. he might be clumsy, but there’s something about the way he talks, the way he is, that makes it impossible to feel uncomfortable.

when you finish eating, you both step outside, stretching a little after sitting for so long. the air is cooler now, but it feels nice after being inside for so long.

“see?” jaehyun says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “great tteokbokki.”

you nod. “i’ll give you that.”

he grins, clearly pleased.

and then—

“yo,” a voice calls from nearby.

you both turn to see riwoo leaning against a streetlamp, looking effortlessly cool like he just happened to be there.

except you’re pretty sure he didn’t just happen to be there.

jaehyun narrows his eyes. “what are you doing here?”

riwoo shrugs. “just walking.”

“right,” jaehyun deadpans. “because you love walking around alone at night for no reason.”

you glance between them, confused. “wait, do you guys live around here?”

“we do,” jaehyun says, still eyeing riwoo suspiciously.

riwoo, on the other hand, looks completely unfazed. “you heading back?”

before you can answer, jaehyun speaks up. “yeah, we were—”

“cool,” riwoo interrupts. “i’ll walk with you.”

jaehyun’s eye twitches.

you don’t notice, though, because you’re already nodding. “sure.”

and just like that, your quiet walk back turns into a not-so-quiet one, with riwoo now in the mix.

jaehyun tries to reclaim the conversation, bringing up some random story, but riwoo effortlessly slides in with his usual coolness, making you laugh at the dry comments he sneaks in.

jaehyun glares. riwoo smirks.

you? completely oblivious.

by the time you reach the building, jaehyun looks like he wants to throw something at riwoo’s head.

“anyway,” jaehyun says loudly, stepping in front of you. “we should do this again sometime.”

before you can reply, riwoo cuts in smoothly. “actually, you’re free tomorrow, right?”

jaehyun’s jaw drops. “excuse me?”

riwoo ignores him, looking at you. “there’s this cool place i think you’d like. want to check it out?”

you blink. “uh, sure?”

jaehyun throws his hands in the air. “unbelievable.”

riwoo just pats his shoulder before turning back to you. “i’ll text you.”

and with that, he walks off, leaving jaehyun standing there, fuming.

“did that just happen?” jaehyun asks, staring after him.

you shrug. “i guess?”

jaehyun groans, rubbing his face. “i hate him.”

you laugh, patting his arm. “come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

“you don’t get it,” he grumbles.

he doesn’t explain what he means, though. and you don’t press, still completely unaware of the chaos unfolding around you.

but jaehyun?

jaehyun knows.

and now, thanks to riwoo, the competition just got a whole lot harder.

—

it isn’t until the next evening that you realize you never actually asked where you were going with riwoo.

you check your phone, scrolling up to his last message. riwoo: meet me at the park near the dorms. 7pm.

simple. direct. nothing flashy. it fits him.

when you get there, riwoo’s already waiting, hands in his pockets, his usual unreadable expression in place.

“hey,” he greets casually.

“hey,” you reply, falling into step beside him as he starts walking.

it’s quiet for a moment, but it doesn’t feel awkward. riwoo isn’t the type to fill silence just for the sake of it, and for some reason, you don’t feel the need to either.

the park is peaceful at this hour, the sky fading into soft hues of orange and pink. the sounds of distant chatter mix with the rustling leaves, and you find yourself relaxing, the weight of the day lifting without you even noticing.

“you come here often?” you ask eventually.

riwoo nods. “it’s nice.”

simple. but you get what he means.

he leads you toward a quieter area, where a small walking path winds around a pond. as you follow the curve of the trail, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls something out.

“here.”

you blink as he hands you a small keychain. it’s nothing extravagant—just a tiny charm shaped like a game controller. but when you take a closer look, you recognize it.

“wait… this is from that arcade, isn’t it?” you ask, surprised.

he nods. “you mentioned liking the claw machines there last time we went. figured you should have one of the prizes.”

you stare at the keychain, turning it over in your palm. it’s such a small thing, but the fact that he remembered…

“you won this?” you ask, looking up.

riwoo just shrugs. “took a few tries.”

you huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “dude. you could’ve just bought one.”

he hums, glancing ahead. “not the same.”

and just like that, something shifts.

you’re not sure what, exactly, but there’s a warmth in your chest that wasn’t there before. riwoo doesn’t make a big deal out of things, but that almost makes them feel more real, like he wouldn’t have gone through the trouble unless he actually meant it.

you slide the keychain into your pocket, feeling its small weight against your fingers.

“thanks,” you say, voice softer than before.

he just nods, like it’s nothing.

but the comfortable silence between you says otherwise.

as the two of you continue walking, conversation comes naturally. it’s not forced, not something either of you are trying too hard for. it just flows, an easy back-and-forth that feels like you’ve been doing this for years.

you talk about random things. music, places you want to visit, the weirdest things you’ve seen in convenience stores at 3am. riwoo’s humor is dry but sharp, slipping in casually between sentences, and you find yourself laughing more than you expected to.

at some point, you stop by a bench, sitting for a while just to enjoy the evening air.

you lean back, stretching your arms. “this is nice.”

riwoo hums in agreement, gaze fixed on the water.

and for a moment, that’s enough.

no pressure to fill the silence. no expectation to keep the conversation going. just existing, side by side.

you don’t realize how much time has passed until—

“there you are.”

you both turn at the voice, only to see taesan strolling toward you, hands in his hoodie pockets, looking way too pleased with himself.

riwoo exhales, slow and measured. “really?”

“what?” taesan says innocently, plopping down on the bench beside you. “just happened to be in the area.”

you snort. “why does it feel like you guys keep happening to be in the area?”

“coincidence,” taesan grins.

riwoo, unimpressed, stares at him. “go away.”

“nah,” taesan replies easily, leaning against the backrest. “this seems fun.”

you shake your head, amused, while riwoo just closes his eyes like he’s contemplating his life choices.

taesan tilts his head at you. “so, what were you guys talking about?”

“nothing,” riwoo mutters.

taesan gasps dramatically. “nothing? wow. sounds so fun.”

riwoo shoots him a deadpan look. “it was.”

you laugh, watching the exchange. taesan is obviously messing with riwoo, and riwoo, while exasperated, doesn’t actually seem mad, just annoyed in that quiet way he gets when things don’t go his way.

“well, since i’m here,” taesan says, stretching, “might as well walk you back.”

riwoo looks seconds away from strangling him.

you, completely oblivious to the underlying battle, just nod. “sure, why not.”

and with that, your quiet night out with riwoo comes to an abrupt, taesan-shaped end.

—

“you like 90s music?”

taesan’s voice comes through the phone casually, but there’s something in his tone that makes you feel like this is leading somewhere.

“yeah,” you answer, leaning back against your couch. “why?”

“got some tracks you might like,” he says smoothly. “wanna listen?”

you pause. “right now?”

“yep.”

“...is this your way of asking me to hang out?”

“maybe,” taesan replies, amused. “but hey, you did say yes, so.”

you shake your head but find yourself grinning. “where?”

“studio.”

he doesn’t give you much time to overthink it. within twenty minutes, you find yourself walking into a dimly lit practice room, the faint hum of a speaker already playing something in the background. taesan is sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, looking perfectly at ease.

he glances up when you enter, smirking. “didn’t think you’d actually show.”

“why? were you hoping i wouldn’t?” you tease, dropping into the chair across from him.

taesan chuckles. “nah. just means i must be more convincing than i thought.”

he leans over to the speaker, adjusting the volume before letting the song play in full. the familiar sound of a 90s r&b track filters through the room, smooth and rich. you nod along, already vibing with it.

“okay,” you admit. “good pick.”

taesan grins. “knew you’d like it.”

he doesn’t sit back down immediately. instead, he moves closer, leaning against the table between you, close enough that you can catch the faint scent of his cologne.

“this one’s good too,” he says, scrolling through his playlist before pressing play.

a new song starts, the kind with slow beats and lyrics that sound way too suggestive when paired with taesan’s current expression. he doesn’t say anything about it, just watches you with a knowing smile, like he’s waiting for you to notice.

you clear your throat. “you, uh—got a theme going on here?”

“maybe,” he muses, tilting his head. “what? too much for you?”

you scoff, crossing your arms. “please. you’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

his grin widens. “oh? that a challenge?”

you don’t answer, but you don’t look away either. which is a mistake, because taesan takes that as an invitation to up his game.

he moves around the table and sits next to you, close enough that your knees almost touch.

“so,” he says, resting his chin on his palm, “what’s your type?”

you blink. “what?”

“your type,” he repeats, tone light. “y’know. romantically.”

you roll your eyes. “why do you care?”

“just curious.” he shrugs. “humor me.”

you sigh, pretending to think. “okay, fine. i guess… someone who’s funny. easy to talk to. good taste in music doesn’t hurt either.”

taesan hums. “interesting.”

you narrow your eyes. “what?”

he just grins. “nah. just sounds like you’re describing me.”

you knew he was leading up to something, but hearing him say it so bluntly still makes you pause.

he laughs at your expression, nudging your shoulder. “c’mon, that was a good one.”

“was it?” you mutter, shaking your head.

he leans back, stretching his arms above his head. “you’re cute when you get flustered, y’know.”

you freeze for half a second before scoffing. “i’m not flustered.”

“mmm,” taesan hums like he doesn’t believe you.

he switches to another song, one with a slower, lazier beat, and taps his fingers against his thigh to the rhythm.

“alright,” he says. “your turn. what’s my type?”

you raise a brow. “shouldn’t you know that?”

“sure,” he grins. “but i wanna hear your guess.”

you hesitate, eyeing him. “uh. someone confident?”

“mmhmm,” he nods, waiting.

“someone who can keep up with your flirting without getting flustered.”

he snickers. “so not you, then?”

you groan. “you’re insufferable.”

he laughs, tilting his head. “you love it.”

you roll your eyes, but you don’t deny it.

by the time you check your phone, an hour has passed without you even realizing.

“damn,” you mutter. “didn’t think we’d be here this long.”

taesan smirks. “time flies when you’re having fun.”

before you can retort, the door swings open.

“whoa, cozy.”

you turn just in time to see woonhak standing in the doorway, looking way too smug.

taesan exhales through his nose. “...really?”

“what?” woonhak grins. “i was literally looking for you.”

“convenient timing,” taesan mutters.

woonhak ignores him, turning to you. “hey, you busy? ‘cause i have a way more fun idea.”

taesan tuts, shaking his head. “and you just had to interrupt now, huh?”

woonhak shrugs, looking completely unbothered. “what can i say? perfect timing.”

you laugh, glancing between them. whatever this is, it’s definitely not just a coincidence.

but you don’t think much of it. after all, your friends have always been chaotic.

right?

“you’re coming with me,” woonhak announces, grabbing your wrist before you can react.

you blink. “huh? where—”

“no time for questions,” he says, dragging you forward with a wide grin. “just trust me.”

you don’t get a chance to argue. one second, you’re standing outside the practice room after parting ways with taesan, and the next, you’re practically jogging to keep up with woonhak’s excited strides.

“seriously,” you huff, “what is this about?”

woonhak finally slows down when you reach the main hallway. he spins on his heel to face you, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“photo booth,” he declares.

you stare at him. “...photo booth?”

he nods. “yep. the one down the street.”

you raise a brow. “why?”

“because,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “i need cool pics, and you’re the only person fun enough to take them with.”

you huff out a laugh. “that’s a weird compliment, but okay.”

woonhak beams. “i am kind of a compliment expert.”

he tugs you toward the exit before you can overthink it. something about his energy makes it impossible to say no. his enthusiasm is genuine, infectious in a way that makes you want to go along with whatever ridiculous plan he’s cooked up.

so, despite the randomness of it all, you find yourself stepping into the tiny photo booth with him not even fifteen minutes later.

“okay, okay,” woonhak says, leaning closer as he scans the screen. “which filter? vintage? cartoon? ooh, or the one that makes us look like shiny porcelain dolls?”

you snort. “definitely not that one.”

“boo. no fun,” he teases, but he selects the vintage filter anyway.

the countdown begins.

“quick, first pose!”

without thinking, you throw up a peace sign. woonhak, of course, leans in dramatically, pointing at you like you’re the most interesting person in the world.

the camera flashes.

“next one, do something dumb,” he says.

you both make exaggerated, ridiculous faces. flash.

“now a cool one.”

he throws an arm around your shoulders and tilts his chin up, giving the camera his best model smolder. you just try to look less awkward. flash.

by the time the last picture is taken, you’re both grinning like idiots, slightly out of breath from how hard you’ve been laughing.

“these are perfect,” woonhak declares as the printed photos slide out from the machine.

you shake your head. “they’re ridiculous.”

“perfectly ridiculous,” he corrects, waving them around so the ink can dry.

you glance at the photos, smiling despite yourself. “okay, yeah. they’re kinda fun.”

woonhak gasps, pressing a hand to his chest. “was that amusement i just heard? from you?”

you roll your eyes, but he just laughs, nudging you playfully.

the two of you step out of the booth woonhak drags you around, not realizing how big the area woonhak took you to was. and that’s when you realize just how much time has passed.

“wait,” you frown, checking your phone. “we’ve been here for two hours?”

woonhak grins. “time flies when you’re having fun.”

“that’s what taesan said,” you mutter.

“ugh, don’t compare me to him.” woonhak pouts. “i’m way more fun.”

you chuckle. “alright, sure.”

he hums, pleased, then carefully tears the photo strip in half and hands you a piece.

“souvenir,” he says.

you take it, feeling oddly touched. “thanks.”

“duh,” he says, nudging your shoulder again.

just as you’re about to say something else, a voice calls out—

“yo, what are you guys up to?”

you turn to see sungho approaching, hands casually in his pockets but eyes flicking between you and woonhak with obvious curiosity.

woonhak tuts. “oh, great. here comes the fun police.”

sungho raises a brow. “fun police? dude, you kidnapped him.”

“for a great cause.”

sungho chuckles, then turns to you. “seriously though, you free? i was gonna grab something to eat—thought you might wanna come.”

woonhak groans dramatically. “unbelievable. you really couldn’t wait five more minutes?”

sungho just smirks. “nope.”

you blink between them, still not fully catching onto whatever silent competition is happening here.

but hey, free food.

“alright,” you say. “let’s go.”

woonhak throws his arms up. “betrayal!”

you laugh, already walking away with sungho. woonhak’s over-the-top whining fades into the background as you head toward your next (unknowingly competitive) hangout.

—

sungho doesn’t rush you.

he doesn’t drag you off like woonhak or flirt like taesan. he doesn’t plan an elaborate excuse to get you alone, nor does he try to impress you with anything grand. instead, he simply walks beside you, keeping an easy pace as you leave the area near the photo booth.

“you okay?” he asks after a while.

you glance at him, a little confused. “yeah? why wouldn’t i be?”

he shrugs. “just making sure. woonhak has a lot of energy.”

you chuckle at that. “yeah, he does.”

sungho hums in agreement. for a moment, there’s only the sound of your footsteps as you walk.

normally, silence like this would feel awkward, like you need to fill the space with words just to make sure the conversation doesn’t die. but with sungho, it doesn’t feel that way at all. his presence is steady, comfortable. there’s no pressure to keep talking, no expectation for you to entertain him.

it’s... nice.

“so,” he says eventually, “where do you wanna eat?”

you think for a second. “hmm. something simple, maybe? i’m not too picky.”

“same,” he nods. “there’s a good place around the corner. nothing fancy, but the food’s solid.”

“sounds good.”

sungho doesn’t lead the way. he walks with you. side by side.

when you get to the restaurant, he holds the door open for you without making a big deal out of it. he doesn’t comment on what you order, doesn’t try to one-up you or tease you like some of the others might. instead, he just listens.

you don’t even realize how much you’re talking at first. maybe it’s because he isn’t pushing for anything, but before long, you find yourself rambling, about random things, small frustrations, the little annoyances of your day. you talk about something funny that happened earlier, about how you got lost trying to find a meeting room, about how taesan’s music taste is stuck in the 90s.

sungho listens to it all. really listens.

he doesn’t just nod along absentmindedly or wait for his turn to speak. he responds thoughtfully, asks questions that show he’s paying attention. he laughs at the right moments, shakes his head when you tell him something dumb that happened.

and when you run out of things to say, he doesn’t fill the quiet with unnecessary words. he just lets it be.

you exhale, leaning back in your seat. “you’re easy to talk to.”

sungho smiles, small but genuine. “that’s a good thing, right?”

“yeah,” you admit. “it is.”

he rests his chin on his hand. “well, you’re easy to listen to.”

you huff out a laugh. “that supposed to be a compliment?”

“mhm.”

you shake your head, but your lips twitch.

the food arrives, and the two of you eat without any rush. conversation flows naturally, never forced, never awkward. the longer you sit with him, the more you realize how rare that is. how rare it is to just exist with someone like this, without feeling like you have to perform or keep up with them.

sungho doesn’t try to be anything more than himself. and because of that, you don’t feel like you have to be anything more than yourself either.

it’s... different. in a good way.

you’re still processing that when the door to the restaurant swings open and someone walks in.

“there you are.”

you blink up at the new arrival.

leehan.

he looks from you to sungho, then back again, raising an eyebrow like he’s caught something interesting.

sungho barely reacts, just pops a fry into his mouth. “what’s up?”

leehan’s gaze lingers on you. “just wondering where he disappeared to.”

you frown. “i didn’t disappear.”

he shrugs. “you kinda did.”

sungho smirks slightly. “jealous?”

leehan scoffs. “not at all.” then, he turns to you. “you done eating?”

you glance at your plate. you’re mostly finished. “uh... yeah, pretty much.”

“cool. come with me.”

you blink. “what? where?”

“just trust me,” he says.

sungho exhales through his nose, amused. “guess that’s my cue to let you go.”

you feel a little bad leaving him so soon, but leehan is already waiting.

“thanks for this,” you say to sungho. “seriously.”

he nods, something knowing in his expression. “anytime.”

and with that, leehan ushers you out, his interruption marking the start of whatever he has planned next.

—

leehan doesn’t say much when he leads you out of the restaurant.

you exhale, stretching your arms. “so where are we going?”

“somewhere quiet,” leehan says simply.

he doesn’t elaborate, but you don’t push for details. there’s something about the way he moves. calm, deliberate, that makes you trust him without question.

your legs are already tired from the long day, but you don’t complain. it’s been one thing after another lately, bouncing between schedules, helping with whatever needs to be done, keeping up with the members’ energy. the thought of somewhere quiet is actually kind of nice.

leehan seems to notice.

at some point, without a word, he reaches over and takes the bag from your shoulder, the one weighed down with equipment, heavier than it should be after carrying it around all day.

“huh?” you blink, startled. “you don’t have to—”

“just give it to me,” he says, not unkindly.

you hesitate for a second, but then you let him.

the relief in your muscles is instant. you hadn’t realized just how much strain the bag was putting on your shoulder until the weight was gone.

“thanks,” you mumble.

leehan doesn’t respond, just keeps walking like it’s nothing.

you fall into step with him, and soon enough, you recognize the route, the way to the dorms.

“wait, we’re going to your place?”

he nods.

“uh. am i even allowed?”

“you are now.”

you huff a quiet laugh. “guess i can’t argue with that.”

when you arrive, the dorm is surprisingly empty.

“everyone’s still out,” leehan explains as he sets your bag down near the door.

you glance around. “so, what now?”

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he walks over to a small tank near the window.

it takes you a second to register what you’re looking at. but then it clicks.

of course.

“checking on your fish?” you ask, amused.

leehan hums in confirmation.

you step closer, watching as he taps the glass lightly, eyes scanning over the water like he’s making sure everything is in perfect balance. everyone knows leehan likes fish. he’s known for it.

but you’ve never actually seen him with them before.

there’s a quiet fondness in the way he does it, gentle, careful.

“they look good,” you say.

“they are.”

“you always talk about them, but this is my first time actually seeing them.” you glance at him. “i get it now.”

he raises an eyebrow. “get what?”

you nod toward the tank. “why you like them so much. they’re… calming.”

he watches them for a second before nodding. “they are.”

you both stand there, just looking at them for a while. the fish move in slow, effortless patterns, gliding through the water without a care. it’s oddly soothing to watch.

and then—

“you should take better care of yourself.”

you blink. “what?”

leehan finally looks at you. “you don’t even notice when you’re exhausted, do you?”

his words catch you off guard. “i—” you pause, about to deny it, but... you can’t.

because he’s right.

you don’t notice. not really. you just keep going, keep working, keep up with everything, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. and no one’s ever really pointed it out before. not like this.

leehan doesn’t press you for a response. he just turns back to the fish tank, letting the statement hang in the air.

but something about it sticks with you.

you should take better care of yourself.

it’s such a simple thing to say, but coming from leehan, it carries weight. because he’s not the type to throw words around without meaning them.

you swallow. “i’ll try.”

he nods, like that’s enough. like he trusts that you will.

the moment lingers between you, quiet but full.

and then—

the door bursts open.

“we’re back!”

suddenly, the dorm is filled with voices (jaehyun, sungho, riwoo, taesan, woonhak) talking over each other as they pile in.

jaehyun stops mid-step. “wait. why is he here?”

“why wouldn’t he be?” leehan says evenly.

taesan raises an eyebrow. “hold on. how long have you two been alone?”

“does it matter?”

woonhak dramatically gasps. “you didn’t steal him away, did you?”

sungho shakes his head with a small smile. “figures, leehan would play the long game.”

riwoo just eyes you quietly, like he’s assessing the situation.

you blink at all of them. “uh. hi?”

the tension in the room is almost comical.

and suddenly, you get the distinct feeling that this whole situation, whatever this is, is far from over.

it starts small.

jaehyun practically shoves you into the best seat at the table when you all go out to eat.

"here, sit here. good view, best lighting," he says, pulling out the chair with too much enthusiasm, nearly knocking it over in the process.

before you can even thank him, riwoo silently slides a drink in front of you.

"your favorite," he says, as if he had it ready before you even sat down.

"oh—thanks?" you blink, but before you can take a sip, taesan leans in with a smirk.

"wait, wait," he says, plucking the glass from your hand. "let me taste-test it first." he takes an exaggerated sip, licking his lips. "yeah, that's safe for you."

"what—" you stare at him, baffled, but then woonhak slides in from nowhere.

"whoa, whoa, hold up," he grins. "you're making him drink already? shouldn't we feed him first?" and just like that, he's piling food onto your plate like an overly doting grandma.

"guys," you laugh, half overwhelmed, half amused. "you don’t have to—"

"eat," sungho says simply, nodding toward the plate. "we're not letting you work on an empty stomach."

you blink at him, confused, but then leehan casually pushes a napkin toward you.

"they're messy," he says, nodding toward the rest of them.

"i'm—what is happening?" you finally ask, looking around the table.

no one answers.

they all just eye each other.

silently.

like some sort of standoff.

…okay, weird.

but whatever, you’re hungry. so you just shake your head and start eating, blissfully unaware of the chaos about to unfold.

at some point, you stop trying to keep up with whatever this is and just start laughing.

"okay," you say, shaking your head. "i don’t know what’s going on, but you guys are acting so weird tonight."

they all freeze.

"weird? what do you mean weird?" jaehyun asks, far too quickly.

"we're not weird," woonhak protests.

"you're the weird one," taesan adds, for no reason.

sungho sighs.

leehan just crosses his arms.

you look at all of them. the tension. the silent glares. the way they're obviously trying to one-up each other at every turn.

…

nah.

there’s no way.

"you know what?" you grin. "instead of competing or whatever this is—why don’t we just enjoy the night together?"

they all pause.

"together?" jaehyun repeats.

"as in… no competition?" riwoo asks, skeptical.

you raise an eyebrow. "was there a competition?"

silence.

taesan clears his throat. "no. obviously not."

"yeah, no competition," woonhak says way too fast.

"never," jaehyun insists.

sungho sighs again.

leehan shakes his head.

you just smile.

whatever this is, you’re not gonna overthink it.

because right now, you're just here to have fun.

with all of them.

end of story.

…

(or at least, that’s what you think.)

—

tysm for reading :>

bnd taglist : @bxnedo