#sieun x reader

The sigh of relief escaping Gotak’s lips tells you more than enough about how much he wanted the soreness to go away.

After finishing Sieun’s treatment, you mindlessly dismiss him with a few reminders before turning around and padding towards the other side of the room to get the necessary equipments for next one. The boys are not new to these routines hence you expected Gotak sitting in front of you, only to meet an entirely different man.

“Oi, Ahn Suho–! I was lined up next,” Hyuntak frowns at the man like a child and attempts to push him off the bed but Suho remains still, eyes staring at you.

“I think I have bruises on my back,” Suho states calmly, ignoring the complaining man beside him.

“Ah, why do you always do this?! I was here first, you told me you were going to shower! Doc, tell him I was here first!”

A snort comes from you easily. You’ll never get used in seeing men– who fight and beat up each other as a sport– act so.. infantile? 

Settling on your chair, you face them both. “What part of your back have bruises?”

The immediate betrayal on Gotak’s is comical. He gasps and cover his mouth using both of his hand, even stumbling back before holding onto something near. One might see him and think he’s an actor.

Suho, uncaring, reaches for the back of his shirt’s collar and tugs the whole shirt off of him.

Voices outside the room grows closer, eventually reaching the door just in time. At the entrance, stands Baku, Wooyoung, and a rookie named Juntae. No words are need to convey the confusion on their face.

“They–.. They– this two!” Gotak points at you and Suho accusingly, like you’ve done something illegal. “The doctor is giving Suho a special treatment!”

“Special Treatment?!” The booming collective voices of them three echoes the whole gym.

You are quick to cut off the impending comments as you stand up on your feet and usher them out of the room.

“It’s like taking care of toddlers,” The words come out of your mouth more harshly than you intended. Suho chuckles nonetheless, shaking his head. “Where’s your bruises?”

The ointment slips from your fingers and lands back on its tray as Suho pulls you. His legs spread to have you in between as though instinctively, hands itching so much that he couldn't help but to grab your waist.

“I was lying,”

“Ahn Suho!” Your palm makes contact with his back shoulder, hitting him enough for a pink mark to emerge eliciting a surprised yelp. You doubt he felt an actual pain though, the MMA fighter have a pain tolerance that isn’t seen on an average human.

Tsking, you fight the urge to nag at him– but the health of his teammates matter too!

“Seriously, you have to stop doing that. What if they have a serious injury that I can’t see without thoroughly checking them?”

Suho heave a sigh, dumping his weight on you as he rest his head against your stomach, uncaring if his face is smushed up. He lets himself relax, taking in the warmth and safety seeping through your skin. “They’ll be fine.. I won’t do it again, I promise. I just missed you so bad.”

The corner of your lips tugs upwards adoringly, your mind switches off from being a physical therapist to the lover that Suho needs.

No matter how much he’s been denying it, you know the stress he’s putting himself through. The championship is nearing, and he’s facing a fighter that has a reputation of playing unfair and adamant in not losing– Na Baekjin. It also doesn’t help that Baekjin managed to win against Baku, someone that Suho admittingly confirms is far stronger than him.

“Baby,” You murmur soothingly, running your hand through the strands of his hair, pushing them back in order to see a clear view of his face.

Bending a bit, you cup Suho’s face in your palms and pepper him with gentle kisses. From his chin and jaw, to the softness of his cheeks, to his forehead and tip of his nose, and finally, to the plump lips that’s been waiting for yours.

There’s no more words exchanged between the two of you as Suho grounds himself with your presence.

No further explanation. No further flowery words.

The air with its comfortable and telling silence.

Chapter 7 - “Night Shift”

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The yellow light in the small kitchen casts a warm glow over the textbooks and notes scattered across your low folding table. Inside the old apartment's entrance, a line of shoes sits near your cramped study space. You look across at Ha-Eun, the timid freshman whom you are currently tutoring. Her mother had quietly set down a small plate of sliced apples with a shy, apologetic smile when you arrived.

“Thank you for coming out so far,” she had said. “Most tutors don’t want to come all the way out here.”

“Sure. I don’t mind,” you responded, glancing out the darkened window. “I was just surprised that someone actually commuted to school from here every day.”

“It’s cheaper for Ha-eun to commute than to pay for housing,” she had explained quietly.

“I think we can stop here for the night,” you say now, closing the heavy textbook and offering Ha-eun a small, encouraging smile. “Great job today.”

“Thank you for helping me,” she replies in a small voice.

Outside, the cold air nips at your face while you pull up the bus schedule on your phone. This tutoring gig was only supposed to be for some extra pocket money and to add a boost to your resume, but a twinge of regret runs through you as you realize the bus has just left. The next one wasn’t arriving for another twenty minutes. Might as well walk, you think as you stare at the dark, empty street. Tightening your backpack straps, you brace yourself for the long, freezing trek back to your apartment.

After twenty minutes, your leg muscles are screaming. As you finally reach the bright commercial strip just outside the campus gates, your eyes are heavy with fatigue. The glowing neon sign of a 24-hour convenience store catches your eye, and you decide you deserved a drink. You push the glass door open, the bell chiming softly.

The store is bright with white light, and smells like instant ramyeon. At this late hour, you are its only customer. When you glance toward the checkout counter, your heartbeat freezes immediately. Sieun is there. He is sitting on a small plastic stool behind the counter, his head down as he concentrates on a textbook that is opened in front of him. 

He looks up as he notices you, his deep, ink-black eyes locking onto yours with an unsettling, instantaneous focus. The harsh, fluorescent lighting overhead casts harsh shadows on his face, and somehow only emphasizes the sharpness of his features: the slope of his nose, the curve of his jawline. 

"I didn't know you had a part-time job," you breathe, stepping closer to the counter, as if drawn in by some magnetic pull. A wave of realization washes over you. This is why he’s always sleeping in class. You remember the way he always drops his head into his folded arms the second he sits down in Social Psych class in the mornings. He works the night shift.

His steady, obsidian gaze tracks you as you move. "Now you know." He tilts his head slightly, scanning your rumpled clothes, wind swept hair, and the redness of your cheeks after being out in the biting cold. "What are you doing out at this hour?"

You let out a small, defeated sigh. "I was tutoring a freshman over at her place. I had just missed the bus and the next one wasn't coming for twenty minutes, so I figured I might as well just walk home."

Sieun’s eyes narrow slightly, his brow furrowing into that faint crease that you have become so familiar with. He glances up at the digital clock over the entrance, then back down at you. "Wait here. My shift is ending now anyway. I'll walk you home."

Before you can respond, he disappears behind the back door of the store, where another tired-looking student emerges to take over his shift.

You stand by the register, your heart flipping against your ribs. His presence still lingers in the space behind the register, making you hyper-aware of your own breathing.

A minute later, the back room door swings open. Sieun walks back out, the navy store vest being replaced by a dark hoodie. When he steps up to you, he is holding a warm, plastic-wrapped gimbap roll, a cup of ice, and a pouch of sweet tea. He extends his arm, holding them out to you, as he moves closer into your space. You tense up instinctively.

"Eat," he commands softly, his low voice a little more gruff than usual. Your heart does another flip.

As you reach out to take them, the tips of his long, slender fingers brush against yours for a brief, but agonizing second. An electric shock spikes through your arm, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. Your eyes snap up to him, and find that his dark eyes are wide and burning with a sudden raw, unexpected intensity. Your heart hammers against your ribs, and heat spreads from your neck to the tips of your ears. You are acutely aware of how close he is standing, and you can smell the faint scent of laundry detergent drifting off his clothes.

You swallow hard, turning towards the window counter to pour your tea. You tear the top of the tea pouch before pouring it over the crackling ice, using it as an excuse to escape the gravity of his gaze. 

He pushes the glass door open, the chime ringing out and piercing the quiet air as you both step into the late autumn chill.

The two of you begin walking in silence. The streetlights overhead cast long shadows over the pavement, painting the empty sidewalks in alternating patches of amber and dark gold. You expect the silence to feel awkward—after all, the two of you barely know each other still—but as you move shoulder-to-shoulder, his quiet presence feels strangely calming. You realize the nonstop, chaotic thoughts that have been filling up your brain since the Helix party begin to quiet down just by being near him.

The sheer proximity of him starts to take over your mind: every time his shoulder shifts, you find yourself tracking the movement through the corner of your eye. He walks with a slow, deliberate pace, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. You are hyper-aware of the small distance between your upper arms, the jackets of your sleeves nearly touching as the two of you continue walking to your apartment.

“The gambling app,” Sieun murmurs after a long while, breaking into the heavy, but calm, silence that had settled between the two of you. You turn your head, your eyes widening slightly.

“I’ve seen something like that before.” His gaze remains fixed on the road ahead.

“What?” you say, completely caught off guard both by what he is saying and the fact that he broke the silence first.

“I’ve seen it before,” he repeated. “...Back when I was in high school. In my old neighborhood. There was a rigged gambling app... a local crew used it to target desperate teenagers. Students who needed money, or kids who just wanted to fit in."

Your chest grows tight; anxiety starts creeping into your veins. Sieun’s expression darkens. You suddenly feel both a strange thrill and a deep yearning: Who was this boy, exactly? Was Minseo right about his mysterious, tumultuous past after all? You realize you are longing to know. You want to understand what put that stormy look in his eyes the other day in class.

"They let them win a little at first," Sieun continues, his voice dropping into a rough, dark tone you hadn’t heard before. His arm accidentally brushes against yours as he speaks, the brief friction sending another wave of heat straight through your skin. 

“Get them addicted, and then strip them clean until they were forced to do whatever the gang wanted just to clear the debt.” His eyes drop, his laser focus stare now aimed at the ground.

Meanwhile, your eyes widen as a realization dawns on you. “Jiho. The “deliveries”. So is he doing them for some gang so he can clear his debt? I knew something felt off about them.”

Sieun’s dark eyes flicker back up to yours. “I don’t know who’s behind this gambling app.” He pauses briefly, before continuing in a low voice. “A few weeks ago, Daehyun approached me in the engineering lab. He asked me to help him code a specific backend algorithm for a platform he claimed he was developing for a startup.” 

By now, your pace has slowed, and the distance between you has somehow gotten shorter and shorter. With every movement, the sleeves of your jackets graze against each other, turning the casual contact into a steady, electric hum that vibrates between your arms.

“He offered me elite social networking and other unspecified 'favors' in exchange,” Sieun continued.

“And?” you breathe, your heart thumping.

“I refused. I didn't know what the app actually was back then. I just didn't like the look on his face. But in class the other day, after hearing you and Minseo talk about what happened at the party, I realized what he actually wanted from me. They needed someone to program the rigged odds for the gambling system so it wouldn't look suspicious.” He stops walking suddenly, his brows stitching together for a brief moment. 

“I’m just not sure if Daehyun is actually the one behind the app, or if he’s just the errand boy for someone else.” He starts walking again, and you fall into step beside him.

"And the deliveries?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper as you dart closer to him to avoid a cracked, uneven patch of sidewalk, your shoulders pressing briefly together. The contact is electric and distracting. You struggle to re-anchor your thoughts back to the conversation at hand. "And other favors? What kind of favors do you think they are?"

"The kind that keep you trapped," Sieun says flatly.

The buildings begin to look more familiar as you finally turn down the narrow street leading to your apartment complex. The empty road stretches ahead, bathed in the pale, cold moonlight. The strange tension that had been hovering between the two of you all night begins to melt away as you stop outside the main entrance of your building, turning to face him. 

"You and Minseo…be careful," he murmurs softly, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he studies you. “If something shady is going on, it’s best if the two of you lay low. Especially if you guys still plan on digging into it.”

You blink, your pulse racing, the physical proximity making your throat go dry. "Y-yeah, okay. We will. I just... I don't like seeing people who are already desperate being taken advantage of."

"I know," Sieun says, his voice carrying a strange, heavy weight. He takes a slow breath before his eyes drop briefly to your lips, his dark lashes brushing his cheeks. 

The air vanishes from your chest as you find yourself being pulled in by the gravity of his presence, the raw intellect behind his beautiful eyes, and the dark mystery of a past that clearly still haunts him.

Sieun looks down at your hands, then back up to your eyes. Slowly, deliberately, he takes his hand out of his pocket, his knuckles accidentally skimming the fabric of your sleeve as he begins to turn away. The brief, accidental touch feels heavy and charged. He looks at you for one last, long second, before briefly scanning your building and the quiet, empty street surrounding it.

"Go inside," he says softly, his voice dropping to a low, quiet command that sends a shiver down your spine. "It's freezing."

He doesn't wait for your response before he turns on his heel and walks away, his quiet footsteps tapping a slow, rhythmic beat against the pavement as he retreats into the dark night. 

You stay rooted to the spot by the entrance, finding yourself once again staring after his retreating figure. Moonlight reflects off of his straight black hair as he melts into the shadows. When he fully disappears, the sudden quiet he leaves behind feels heavy, making your chest tighten. You stand there with your heart hammering against your ribs, suddenly realizing just how completely he’s taken over your thoughts.

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author's note ﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒let's ignore that canon Sieun probably would've gotten a scholarship and wouldn't be working at a convenience store...I just really like this setting. Also, slow-burn romance is pretty hard to write. Hehe. Sorry.

Chapter 6 - “Repayment”

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Morning light filters weakly through the high windows of the lecture hall, illuminating dust motes that hang over rows of empty desks. The room is only a quarter full as students continue to filter in with soft chatter, the rustle of notebooks, and the thud of backpacks hitting the floor. Three rows behind you, the crinkle of a convenience store plastic bag breaks the silence as someone unrolls a breakfast gimbap.

Beside you, Sieun is asleep, arms folded beneath his head, a few strands of his silky midnight hair catching the morning rays as they fall over the sleeve of his jacket.

Minseo storms in, a whirlwind of motion that completely disrupts the quiet hum of the classroom, and drops into the seat next to you. 

“Guess what. You are not going to believe this,” she says breathlessly. “I caught up with Jiho again yesterday.” 

“The guy from the party?” you say, your eyes widening slightly. The guy who was talking to Daehyun before his public meltdown.

“Yes. So, remember how I told you that when I caught up with him at the party, he was crying hysterically about losing everything to a gambling app?” Minseo leans forward. “Well, yesterday, he was like, super calm about it all.”

You flip open to a blank page in your notebook, pen poised at the top of the paper. Ever since the party, a subtle, creeping sense of dread had started slowly spreading in the back of your mind. You couldn’t shake the feeling that the strange anomalies cropping up around campus lately aren't just isolated coincidences. The missing students, the public breakdowns, the vagueness of the students in the interviews; they are like scattered fragments of a puzzle you can’t quite piece together. 

“So anyway,” Minseo continued. “I asked him why he was so calm after he basically lost all his money. He said that when he first started using it, he would win a lot. So, he just kept gambling, thinking that he’d eventually earn back what he started losing.” She starts unzipping her backpack and begins digging through it before speaking again.

“Apparently, half the campus is using it. And like, not just the broke students. Everyone. Business majors. Athletes. Everyone.” She pulls out her audio recorder now, with a slightly sheepish grin on her face. “Before you yell at me, I know I wasn’t supposed to record him.”

“Minseo,” you sighed. You scribble a few hurried notes onto the paper. Kim Jiho. Gambling app. Half the campus??

“I mean, you’re taking notes, aren’t you?” she points out, flipping the recorder on. 

You pause, pen hovering over Jiho's name. “Yeah,” you murmur finally, your voice dropping as you lean a fraction closer to her desk. “Not for your article though. Anyway, let’s hear it. Keep the volume down.”

Muffled voices begin to play from the tiny speaker, competing with the static of wind and background noise.

“...anyway, I got offered a way to earn back my money,” Jiho's voice hums through the static. “Like, a job, pretty much. A delivery job.”

“Who offered it to you?” Minseo’s recorded voice asks, sharp and pressing.

A long silence follows. Through the rustle of the microphone, you can almost picture Jiho shrugging. “Just… a friend of a friend,” he finally mutters.

“What are you delivering? Packages?” Minseo pushes.

Another pause. “Not sure,” Jiho murmurs. “Food, I assume.”

The recording abruptly cuts to dead silence. “He said he had to go right after that. He wouldn't give me anything else,” Minseo says, clicking the device off.

For a moment, you don’t say anything as you process the contents of the short audio clip. “Didn’t he sound a little…nervous?” you say, feeling as if you yourself are the apprehensive one.

“I mean…maybe a little?” Minseo says, eyeing you. “Probably just nervous about starting a new job. When I first found him, like I said, he was pretty calm. Excited, even, about making his money back.” She tucks the recorder back into her backpack.

You notice that at some point, Sieun has lifted his head from his arms. His face is fully visible now, a few messy black strands framing his dark eyes, which are positively stormy. His jaw tightens ever so slightly before he abruptly puts his head back down again.

Your heart skips a beat as you stare at the crown of his raven hair before Professor Choi’s voice cuts through the silence.

“Folks, we are discussing Social Exchange Theory today. As noted in your reading assignment…”

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The lecture ends with a decisive click of the projector, and the classroom immediately erupts with movement. Minseo yaps away as you pack your things; beside you, Sieun shifts his weight, his dark head dropping back into his folded arms. 

A minute or two later, the door of the classroom swings open. Your gaze flickers up automatically. It is Jeong Siwoo. He carries a manila folder tucked loosely beneath one arm, a few loose pages sticking slightly out of the side. One of the pages shifts when he steps through the doorframe, briefly exposing a bold header that reads: 

Budget Glossary - Office of Fiscal Planning and Analysis

You barely register the text before the pages disappear back into place under his elbow. Siwoo steps past the front row, his eyes scanning the lectern. “Professor Choi?” he calls in a velvety tone.

At first, nobody answered. Then, a student packing their laptop near the front finally glances up meekly. “He already left.”

Siwoo nods smoothly, flashing a polite smile. “Thanks.”

As he turns to leave, his eyes briefly scan the lingering students in the room. Then, they land directly on Sieun, and remain there. The stillness of the two of them contrast sharply with the slow, but steady, movement of the packing up students around them. Sieun has already lifted his head, his dark eyes locked directly onto the Helix president. There is no hostility on his face; he is simply looking back at Siwoo, expression completely unreadable. One second passes. Then two. Finally Siwoo looks away first, turning on his heel and exiting back into the hallway.

A strange feeling ripples through you. “Do they know each other?” you whisper.

Minseo glances toward the closed door briefly and shrugs. “Probably.”

“How?” you ask quietly.

“It's Siwoo,” she says, slinging her bag over her shoulder as if that explains everything. “He knows everyone.”

You follow her out into the bright, crowded hallway. Students flood out of the neighboring classrooms, moving in slow currents through the corridor. Minseo is still talking rapidly, the discussion of Jiho long forgotten as she shifts the topic to what she wants to order for lunch. 

Suddenly, Minseo stops in front of a crowded bulletin board just outside the classroom. “Hey look,” she says playfully. “We should send this to Soojin.”

You nearly walk straight into her back, taking a quick step to the side. “What?”

She points to a freshly pinned flyer:

Peer Tutors Needed – Academic Success Center.

As Minseo launches into a new tangent about great tutoring looks on a résumé, and how she wished she was smart enough to tutor, your mind drifts. You stand in front of the board, distracted, still thinking about Kim Jiho and the gambling app. You think about him losing all his money, and the mysterious "deliveries" he was forced to make just to survive. Absent-mindedly, your fingers reach out to the bottom of the flyer. Your thumb hooks around one of the perforated contact tabs at the bottom, and with a quiet, mindless tear, you rip the email address away, crumpling the tiny piece of paper into your palm while Minseo continues to chatter beside you. 

The two of you start your journey down the hallway again, but after three steps, a familiar, nagging prickle of intuition stops you. You pat the outer pocket of your bag, your fingers meeting a hollow space where the shape of your notebook should be. Your notes. The ones you made on Kim Jiho, the gambling app, and the deliveries. You realize they are still sitting on the classroom desk. You grimace, stopping in the middle of the hallway traffic. 

“Go ahead without me. I forgot something.”

Minseo stops and turns toward you. “Again? Seriously, Y/N?”

“Just go. I'll catch up.”

She lets out a twinkling laugh, shaking her head as she turns back around and disappears into the sea of students. You spin on your heel, pushing against the flow of the crowd to head back to the lecture hall. 

When you slide through the classroom door, the first thing you notice is that Sieun is still sitting in his exact spot at the desk. The second thing you notice is that he isn't packing his bag. Your notebook is open between his forearms, the white pages stark against the dark wood of the desk. He isn't flipping through the pages. He is just staring. Reading. Studying.

You freeze in the doorway for a fraction of a second. The sheer stillness of his concentration makes your breath catch. 

“Those are mine,” you croak, your voice breaking as you step forward slowly.

Sieun lifts his gaze slowly, his dark, beautiful eyes locking onto yours with an unsettling calmness. “I know.”

You walk over to him, the soft tapping of your shoes echoing lightly. Standing over his desk, you glance down at your notes. In the middle of your messy handwriting, two black marks catch your eye. The word deliveries is circled twice thick, inky marks that you don't remember making. 

Air escapes from your lungs as your eyes flicker between him and the paper. Until this exact second, he has always seemed entirely detached. Just an aloof, quiet, solitary boy who was impossible to read. But looking at the circled word, you realize he has been noticing everything. 

“I thought you were sleeping,” you murmur.

Sieun glances back down at the notebook, the long fringe of his bangs curving over his brow. “I was.”

The rest of the empty lecture hall seems to completely evaporate. A heavy, magnetic awareness settles between you. Standing this close to him, your brain is forced to notice small details that you usually are able to brush off. The sleeve of his grey sweater is pushed up slightly, exposing the pale, smooth skin of his forearm and the delicate line of his wrist. You notice the faint crease between his dark brows—the universal sign of deep concentration. 

Then, his gaze drops to the bottom of the page before tracking back up to your face, scanning you with a quiet, intense observation.

“You wrote down the same thing three times,” he says softly.

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

With one slender finger, he turns the notebook a fraction of an inch toward you. Sure enough, you had paraphrased the same concept three separate times: repayment through deliveries, earn it back, work it off.

“Y-yeah,” you stammer, your voice dropping, unsure of what else to say.

Sieun pauses a beat, his dark eyes holding yours captive. “Because this bothers you.”

The air in your throat turns to ice. It isn't just that he is right; it's the fact that he is able to analyze your anxiety bleeding through your handwriting.

Neither of you moves. You trace the edge of the paper with your thumb, trying to anchor yourself.

“I…I just don't think doing these deliveries is actually going to solve anything for him,” you whisper, looking down at the scribbled notes.

After a small pause, he reaches out to close the notebook, electric currents radiating out as his fingers come just millimeters from yours. “Probably not.”

“Then why would he agree to do it?”

A heavy silence stretches between you, though it isn’t uncomfortable or awkward.

“Because,” he says huskily as he looks at you through his dark lashes, “somebody offered him a way out.”

You swallow hard, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. “You think he’s in trouble.”

“You do,” he responds, his eyes refusing to let you look away.

“Shouldn’t I? Something’s off about all this.”

“Most people probably would’ve stopped caring about him after the party,” he says, his voice carrying a strange weight as he leans back slightly, his gaze lingering on your face.

He studies your face for one last second before quietly standing up in a single, fluid motion, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. As he steps past you into the narrow aisle, his shoulder brushes lightly against yours, sending a sudden, electric shock of warmth through your arm.

“See you tomorrow,” he says softly, his low voice sending shivers down your spine.

He steps around you and walks toward the door. You remain frozen by the desk, staring after his retreating figure, your eyes tracing the straight line of his shoulders under his loose grey sweater. The door closes behind him with a definitive click; your chest tightens with a strange, nameless feeling.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

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author's note ﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒double post today! :3

Chapter 5 - “Debt”

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You slide the key out of the lock and ease the door shut until you hear a soft click. The apartment is quiet at first. Then, you hear faint echoes of sobs coming from Hana’s room. She’s back. There is a battle between your desire to respect her privacy and the urge to check on her after being away for so many days. Eventually, your concern for her wins out, and you decide to check on her.

Tapping the door gently, you call out in a low voice. “Hana? Is everything okay?” You hear a pause in the sobs. A moment later, the door cracks open a few inches, framing Hana’s tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes.

“Y/N, hi. I’m sorry,” she says shakily.

“What happened? Is everything alright?” You cautiously take one step forward.

“Y-yeah, it’s nothing,” she hiccups, retreating back into the room.

“You can tell me, it’s alright,” you reassure gently. You two make your way to her bed and sink into the edge of the soft mattress.

“It’s…my dad,” she says between shaky breaths. “His chronic kidney failure is getting worse. He’s back in the hospital, and he needs dialysis. That’s why I’ve been gone for so many days. He needed a caretaker, and my mom can’t miss work.” She pauses, a small sob escaping her before pulling herself back together to continue. “...Our insurance plan won’t even cover half the treatment cost. We’re…going into debt.” The sobs break out in earnest now, tears spilling over the edge of her eyes. Her breathing quickens, and her words tumble out in a desperate rush. “I-my sister, sh-she’s too young to work or take care of my dad, but I had to come back to school because they gave me a warning for missing too many classes, but I don’t even know if I can even stay in school or not or if I might have to drop out because we can’t afford the tuition anymore, but I worked so hard to get here and –”

“Hey, take it easy,” you cut in gently, placing a firm, reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure there’s a way to figure this out. I’ll help you.”

Hana’s sobs redoubled, and you let her head fall heavy on your shoulder. For a long time, you both sat in complete silence on the edge of the bed. You didn't say a word, simply holding her while she let all of her pain out.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

Later, you and Minseo are sitting on the couches in the Student Center, your laptops and textbooks sprawled between you. You briefly recount the morning’s events to her.

“Hmm,” Minseo taps a pen against her chin, pondering. “Let’s take her to the Financial Aid office. Maybe they have some sort of emergency grant for students with medical emergencies or something.”

“Okay,” you agree. I’ve never heard of anything like that, but it’s worth a try, you think. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“That really does suck, though,” Minseo sighs, leaning back into the cushions. “I would say she’s the perfect candidate to interview for my article, but I’ll cut her a break. Poor girl sounds like she needs one.”

You hum in agreement.

Later, a loud, familiar voice interrupts your study session.

 “Yo, newspaper girl. And new girl,” Daehyun saunters up to the couch, a cocky grin already on his face.

Minseo lets out a heavy groan, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling before she even looks up from her textbook.

“You know, you guys have spent so much time interviewing miserable students,” Daehyun says, leaning casually against the back of the sofa. “You should actually interview some successful ones for once. There’s a Helix mixer on Friday. Open invite,” he says casually.

You and Minseo exchange a quick look. “And why would I want to be surrounded by elitist snobs?” Minseo asks dryly.

“I just said why,” Daehyun responds smoothly.

“...That’s not really in the scope of my article.”

“Your call. But it would be a good opportunity to network with some people who actually matter,” he says, flashing a persuasive grin.

“How are you able to invite us anyway? Don’t tell me you’re actually a member of Helix?” she asks.

“I’m not,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “I just hang around them for the networking and connections. They’ve helped me secure summer internships in the past. Being a business major is all about knowing the right people,” he nods matter-of-factly.

“So you know Jeong Siwoo then?” Minseo asks.

“Of course. Everyone knows Siwoo.” Daehyun shrugs one last time, effectively closing the subject. “Anyway, hope to see you there,” he says, throwing a cheerful wave over his shoulder before walking away.

After talking it over, you both decide the party was worth checking out. Helix parties were notoriously exclusive, so Minseo figured it would be a good opportunity to get a contrasting angle for her piece—a glimpse into the world of the ultra-connected, ultra-rich elite. But as you stared at your textbook, a heavy weight settled in your chest. Your academic life was mostly back on track, a minor miracle after your previous mental breakdowns. Yet your emotional life felt like it was unraveling by a thread. You couldn't shake the unsettling realization that everyone around you was barely holding it together.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

After your afternoon classes, you and Minseo wait for Hana outside the Financial Aid office. Among you, stressed students frantically fill out paperwork and mutter tiredly into their phones. Your eyes drift to the bulletin board next to you. A bright, black-and-red flyer catches your attention.

“Join Helix Leadership Society Today! Take your future into your hands.

Peer Mentoring

Career & Internship Networking

Student Leadership Initiatives”

  A quiet, argumentative voice then cuts through the otherwise hushed sounds of the office.

“I submitted the paperwork weeks ago,” a student pleads.

“You just have to wait for processing.” The administrator barely looks up from her computer, the cold blue light reflecting off her glasses.

“I can’t!” The student wails.

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing more I can do,” the administrator says flatly.

A soft whimper escapes the student before they spin around and bolt out the double doors.

Hana finally steps out of the office, her expression tired and unreadable. “How’d it go?” you ask, falling into step beside her as the three of you push through the heavy exit doors.

“They helped me submit the financial aid application forms,” Hana says quietly. “But the processing time is four to six weeks.”

You step closer to her, doing your best to offer a warm, reassuring smile. “Hey, at least you made the first step. I really hope it works out.”

She looks up, a glimmer of gratitude softening her tired face.

Crisp evening air hits the three of you as you exit from the building. A few yards away, the desperate student from earlier is pacing under a flickering courtyard light. They are fixated on their phone, thumbs typing frantically as their brow furrows in deep, silent consternation. You watch them for a split second before Minseo nudges your arm, pulling you back to reality. With Hana’s crisis temporarily managed, the three of you walk into the gathering dusk, leaving the heavy atmosphere of the administration building behind.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The week passes by in a blur, and Friday arrives all too quickly. You and Minseo pull up to a large, luxury off-campus condo; towering floor-to-ceiling glass windows glow with warm, ambient lighting, casting a golden hue over the manicured courtyard. Helix President, Jeong Siwoo, greets incoming guests with practiced, magnetic charm.

“Nice place, Siwoo,” Minseo says, a heavy note of sarcasm layering her voice. “Is it yours?

“Glad you could come,” he responds smoothly, his calm gaze shifting effortlessly between the two of you. “No, Helix members rent and share this space.” 

Inside, the crowd is a chaotic blur of motion and noise. You and Minseo navigate a sea of flushed faces and alcohol-fueled laughter. A suffocating tightness squeezes your chest as anxiety begins to creep in. Just then, a familiar, slurred voice catches your ear. 

The two of you find Soojin on one of the sofas, appearing to have drank too much already, talking loudly. “Oh, hey guys,” she slurs as she notices you approach. She pats the seat next to her, and you and Minseo sit down. 

“I’m so screwed, guys. I’m on academic probation; if I don’t get my GPA up this semester, they’ll revoke my RA position,” she says.

“Seriously?” Minseo says, concerned.

“Yeah. No RA position means no reduced housing. So, basically, I’m going to have to get like, a real job.” She laughs tiredly.

“Depends on how desperate you are.” A muscular, athletic-looking guy with tousled dark brown hair sidles up to the couch with a crooked smile. He’s wearing a varsity jacket and a Helix-branded shirt, which is tight enough to outline his muscular frame.

“Agh. What now, Kang Junho?” Soojin drawls, her head tilting back into the cushions. 

“I mean…there’s an easier way to get your grades up. Just need to be willing to do some favors,” Junho says with a wink.

“Go away,” Soojin says with a roll of her eye. “You’re drunk.” “So are you,” Junho replies smoothly, sitting on the back of the couch and leaning down into her space. “That doesn’t affect the offer.” 

A cold spike of discomfort hits your stomach, and you shift restlessly in your seat. You and Minseo are probably the only two people here not drunk, having agreed to stay sober to properly gather material for her article. Your mind recoils at the thought of speaking up to the broad-shouldered athlete, but the sight of a drunk student being backed into a corner makes your chest tighten with indignation. Swallowing your nerves, you lock your gaze on Junho.

“Sh-she already said no,” you pipe up nervously.

Junho leans back and pauses for a beat, his eyes widening slightly as he locks his gaze onto you. Then, a loud, easy laugh cracks out of him. “Relax, newbie. I’m just joking.” He studies you for a moment longer, causing you to fidget uncomfortably under his stare. Finally, he pushes himself off the couch and walks away into the party

“Why are gym bros and athletes always so annoying?” Minseo mutters.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.

A little while later, while the three of you continue chatting on the couch, you notice a frantic, high-pitched voice beginning to bleed through the background noise. At first, it blends in with the general roar of the party. Then, the pitch grows louder and sharper. You crane your neck, scanning the sprawling space. At the opposite end of the room, tucked into an alcove, you spot Daehyun sitting next to another student. Both of them are hunched over a glowing phone screen.

“You said I could get it all back!” the student cries out.

Daehyun pauses, then murmurs something to him.

“I lost it all!” The student cried again, his voice cracking. There is a brief lull in the surrounding conversations as his sharp cry pierces the crowd. Daehyun rolls his eyes, grabbing the student’s shoulder and pulling him closer in an attempt to quiet him down. Suddenly, the student flinches away from Daehyun as if his entire world has just collapsed. A jagged, breathless wail rips from his throat, his chest heaving as he gasps for air. He shoves violently through the dense crowd and bursts out the front door of the condo, his ragged sobs echoing in the night air.

Minseo and Soojin have also seen everything. 

“You two wait here, I’m going to go after him,” Minseo says hurriedly. Before you can even respond, she springs up from the plush cushions of the couch and bolts into the crowd, her eyes fixed on the door as she chases after him.

You turn to Soojin, but she only gives a nonchalant shrug before half-dozing off against the cushions. For a long while, you remain beside her, keeping watch as she drifts in and out of a drunken half-slumber. After the outburst, a quiet lull had settled over the party. Students still mill around, drinking and chatting, but the earlier chaos and energy dissipates as drunk and passed-out bodies start to pile onto the furniture. You sit and observe your surroundings idly until a single name cuts through the low murmur of the party and captures your undivided attention.

“Ask Yeon Sieun. He’s top of the class.” A thin, socially awkward guy wearing glasses is speaking to another athletic Helix member on the cluster of couches right next to you. Instinctively, you slide closer to the edge of your couch, your muscles tensing. Piecing together their hushed words, you gather that the nerdy student is Park Jisung, a computer science major who shares classes with Sieun. The athlete seems to be asking a favor from him, but you can’t make out what it is. 

“C’mon, aren’t you Mr. Hackerman?” the athlete jeers.

“Don’t call me that,” Jisung responds.

“Then stop pretending like you can’t do it.” The athlete's tone sharpens.

“I said I’d think about it,” Jisung responds flatly, crossing his arms and pulling his shoulders inward, leaning away from the other student.

The athlete leans in close, his voice dropping to a low whisper. You strain your ears to listen.

 “Don’t forget what we have.” He pauses, his eyes narrowing. “We can post it anytime.”

The weight of the vaguely threatening conclusion to their conversation leaves your mind racing, and you reach for your phone to check in on Minseo. Your pocket is empty. An immediate spike of anxiety hits your chest, turning your blood cold. When did this happen? 

You frantically pat your pockets and dig through your purse. Nothing. Panic blurs your vision.

“Looking for this, Y/N?” You snap your head up. Kang Junho is standing over you, holding your phone loosely between two fingers, a smug grin plastered across his face.

“Why do you have my phone?” you demand, your voice tight as you reach for it. Junho pulls it back just out of reach, his grin widening.

 “Relax, you dropped it between the cushions. I’m just being a good citizen.” He taps the screen, illuminating it before finally dropping it into your open palm. “Added my number, too. Felt efficient.”

A wave of absolute revulsion washes over you. Your skin crawls as you stare at the new contact on your screen. 

“Delete it.”

“Or you could just text me,” he responds smoothly, leaning in with that same suffocating, unbothered confidence. The sheer audacity makes you feel gross. 

Wanting to exit the situation as fast as humanly possible, you grab your bag, pull a half-conscious Soojin up by the arm, and push past him into the crowd without another word. Your skin is still prickling with disgust, but you force yourself to scan the room one last time. You need to find Park Jisung—you need to know why he is dragging Sieun’s name into whatever weird thing he has going on with the other guy. But as your eyes sweep the thinning crowd, the glasses-wearing student is nowhere to be found. He is already gone.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You start to drag a heavily stumbling Soojin out of the party to take her back to her dorm, the dead weight of her arm over your shoulder. You still haven’t been able to find Minseo; when you pull out your phone, No Service flashes in tiny script at the top corner of your screen. Ugh. 

The moment you cross the threshold of the posh Helix condo and step into the darkness of the tree-lined street, a sharp, digital chime rings out from your phone. Service is back, you think as you pull it out of your pocket eagerly, expecting a text from Minseo.

Instead, a pop-up window greets you. Someone is trying to Airdrop you a file:

IMG_2741.jpg.

Your thumbs tremble as you hit accept, your breath hitching in the cold night air as you wait for the image to load.

Your stomach drops. The blood instantly drains from your face, and a cold sweat breaks out across your neck. It is a photo of you at the party. Taken just about fifteen minutes ago. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. *This is the soundtrack I was playing while writing this part of the story with this divider. Headphones recommended. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.https://open.spotify.com/track/1Df7KFZte2Dt16qBG9U5o6?si=225c153d1a7e41e2

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author's note ﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒I'm going to try to ride this momentum and write as much as I can of the next few chapters while it lasts...so we can get to more actual sieun x reader moments. hehe.