#silverboysnet

In your eyes, Choi Hyunsuk had always been kin with the sun.

Although now he stands before you in a cobalt gleam.

The yellowed hue of stage lights shines brightly onto the pale blue of his messy dress shirt, untucked and wrinkled. He sits alone on the cherry coloured wood, body coiled, and eyes glued to the scribbled pages of sheet music. It’s the way you see him wherever you turn; the way he seems to light up the darkness around him that makes you realize he looks so much more like the moon.

It’s then you understand the misconception, and it’s then you pull toward him; tidal waves to the empyrean sky.

You pull the camera hanging around your neck up toward your eyes, and feel the dampness of your palms against the pads of your fingers. The camera flashes when he looks up with an inquisitive glance, then he shoots you one of the those smiles. The kind that makes your knees weak. The kind that screams trouble.

“Like what you see?” He questions, eyebrows raised and gaze tender.

There is the soft rumble of jazz music droning somewhere in the distance, but it’s minute compared to the soft drawl of his voice, so much softer, and sweeter than you imagined.

You spare a glance at his beaming smile, then at the photograph on the dingy screen on of the camera. There’s a gasp in the back of your throat that yearns for release, and with a sharp cough from the chest, you ignore it. He is much more than alluring. Blonde hair that curls at the back of his neck, deep set eyes with chocolate coloured pupils. He is sweet like his voice, and he is much more than alluring. You look up from the photo and back to his eyes.

“No...” You ponder, scrunching your nose. “No, you’re blinking.”

His expression soon matches yours, and in a second, melts into another glorious smile.

“Guess you have to take a few more then, huh?”

The words are so simple, and yet, you can’t seem to shake the eruption of chills at the small of your back. His bottom lip is wedged between his teeth, and that’s when you give him a curt nod, turn your back, and walk away briskly, refusing to glance behind and absorb his bewildered expression.

“I’ll see you later?” He shouts after you, but you’re halfway out the auditorium door.

It’s when Choi Hyunsuk smiles. When his eyes are wide, and kind, in that mixture of confusion and amusement, that you understand he is neither the sun, or the moon.

He is much rather the cosmos.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I don’t trust him.”

          Sitting on the campus coffee shop, you’re tossed between drinking the rest of your half melted iced caramel macchiato, and delving off into the serenity of the cafe’s decor. There are green potted plants at the base of every crystalline windowsill, and large-scale murals on the plane of every wall. You have half the mind to walk into one of those paintings. Kim Junkyu’s loud mouth brings you back.

“You.” He says vaguely before taking a swig of tea. “—don’t trust anybody.”

While you attempt to reply, there’s a knit in your forehead that tells you he might be right. You shoot him a concerned glance, then you bury your head in your hands.

“This piece is going to be awful.” You groan. But Junkyu takes it upon himself to flick you against the forehead, drawing your attention back to his stern expression.

“Listen, [Y/N]. Do you think I like spending my Friday nights watching sweaty Lee Byounggon play basketball? Let me answer that question for you: NO!”

          The ferocity in his eyes makes your face twist in amusement, and you nod your head understandingly. Junkyu goes on.

“I do it because I like writing for the sport’s column. And you, are gonna be completely fine writing for Hyunsuk. He’s really not all that bad.”

You grimace. “But he’s such a flirt!”

“Being friendly never hurt anybody.” He argues, then he stifles a giggle. “Besides, I think you could learn a thing or two when it comes to flirting.”

“I will throw this hot tea at you, don’t test me!”

          Junkyu playfully maneuvers his body away from you, though you simply roll your eyes in response. With a small jingle of the door, there’s an influx of bodies, and a strong gust of air that hugs tightly onto your skin. You’re still focused on using Junkyu’s tea as a weapon by the time his mouth parts in surprise. You don’t quite understand the mystified look in his eyes; that is, until you hear the gentle whisper of his name.

Suddenly, as if with the sweep of Spring air, he stands against the cafe’s greenery; against copious vines of growing plants and the plush expanses of verdant leaves—like walking art, Choi Hyunsuk seems to appear in a myriad of bustling colours.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t take your breath away.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He is better than art in that you can feel him.

          His presence, as if some force in the ether has a divine clutch on your body, is absolutely mesmeric. There are more goose bumps on your arms, calves, thighs than you could possibly count, and a hesitation in the back of your mind that coats your thoughts thickly. It’s a clouded sense of worry, but now your eyes are closing in on him, and only him. He is calling to you in open silence, and it’s a sensation unlike any other; you almost don’t notice the creeping hand of Kim Junkyu, which wraps around your arm, pulls you upward, and then forward, toward him.

“Good luck.” Junkyu whispers into your ear, voice airy from the lull of gentle winds, sodden with excitement.

“I don’t want to.” You’re hissing back at him, but it seems it’s too late. Hyunsuk looks toward you with a dip between his forehead, and he stands by the rows of sugar packets in a way that’s far too picturesque. He drowns in the splendor of a plain white t-shirt, like satin between your fingertips, and you turn away before the feelings linger. He looks to you once more, this time with a fervent wave.

“It’s you.” He says brightly, lips perched in a small smile.

He is unnervingly gentle, magnificently striking.

You nod. “Uh yeah, I guess it’s me.”

“You’re the one writing my piece for journalism, right? Is it [Y/N]?”

          Your name from his lips sends your heart into full bloom, and you think Kim Junkyu might be the worst friend you’ve ever had. You want to stay calm and collected, but the longer your mouth parts, the faster you realize the words won’t come out. You nod numbly at his inquiry, and groan inwardly at your frailty. His smile grows wider.

“I read your piece about the 101 Things not to do at a Basketball Game the other day, and I couldn’t put it down. You’re an amazing writer.”

You pause.

Then your rampant heartbeat slows.

You almost grin.

“Oh, I didn’t write that piece.”

His smile falters.

          If there was a hulk of chains strapped to your chest when Hyunsuk first walked in, those very chains feel like they’ve unraveled. Perhaps they’ve now claimed refuge on the withering boy in front of you, whose lips purse in confusion, whose cheeks burn a dusty rose. Choi Hyunsuk is a smooth talker to say the least, but now, he is bashful, and the playing field seems even.

“Trying to talk your way into a good review?” You ask playfully.

“Depends.” He bites his lower lip and squints eye. “What do you value more? Flattery or humility.”

          You look to the iced coffee that sits on your abandoned table. Kim Junkyu stands not too far away, avidly staring at a drink menu despite having ordered moments ago. You calmly take the drink into your hand, twirl the straw in your cup, and flash him the most candid look you can muster.

“How about… honesty?”

For a moment, he is silent.

Then he looks to you with a subtle sense of curiosity. There’s a hand running slowly through his hair, and a wild glint in his eyes; you can feel the thumping in your chest return once again.

“Honestly.” He breathes. “I think you’re breathtaking.”

          You know you should say something. You know more than anything that you should say something. But you’re not sure where this boy ends and begins, not sure what lies past his even-tempered veneer, still, not sure if you can trust him.

“I-I’m sorry. Was that too forward?” The hand is back in his hair, and this time, it’s erratic. “Can we just, uh, start over?”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” You tease. “That was quite the first impression.”

          Sunlight shines through the cafe’s wide paneled windows and straight onto Choi Hyunsuk’s perturbed face. Now, he tilts his head and knits an eyebrow, still a blinding smile on his lips, but he’s less animated, more perplexed.

“Good or bad?”

You scrunch your nose. “I’ll sleep on it.”

“You?” He repeats.  “Thinking of me before you go to sleep? Yeah... yeah I can work with that.”

          Choi Hyunsuk is nodding his head when you turn around to face the cafe’s double door entry. There is a pool of emotion that fosters in the depths of your soul, and still, you think it’s best to leave it untouched, to dissipate. But you’re still thinking of him when you push past the door. Still when the crisp morning air latches onto your barren skin. Still when the bright morning sun offers you warmth and comfort. He is more charming than you imagined.

You realize Choi Hyunsuk’s artistry isn't the only thing you should stay weary of.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first time you hear him play the guitar, you swear it’s the sweet sound of the lyre.

          It echoes against the concrete walls of the music room, up to the high peaks of the ceilings, and back down again; cups at your ears and nestles in the cracks of your conscience.

It’s a sound you want to reach out and touch.

When he finishes, he looks to you for approval.

“You gonna play that at the showcase?” Your words come out in a breathy mumble, though you blame it on the rapid movement of his languid fingers, on the harmonious tune, on his rhythmic humming.

“Nah.” He says loosely. “Probably not.” He stands abruptly from his position on a music room chair, and places his guitar back onto its stand. “They like pop songs.”

“Who’s they?”

He shrugs. “The audience. I don’t usually play my own stuff.”

“Where’s the soul in that?”

             It’s the way his face falls into itself that makes you think you’ve said the wrong thing, and suddenly, you feel a plummeting in the pits of your stomach; feels like your heart is sinking. An apology teeters at the tip of your tongue, but Hyunsuk looks back at you.

There is a tenderness in his face you’ve never seen. Sentiment.

You swear he’s never looked so beautiful.

“I guess...they don’t ever really wanna hear me, you know?”

You fight the urge to look at him with complete astonishment.

Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined a somber tone in Choi Hyunsuk’s speech. He is blinding rays of iridescent sunshine, toothy grins in boisterous hallways, jaunty cheers of joy and happiness—there is a complexity in his tone, vulnerability in his facade that now, more than ever, beckons for your attention.

You swear he’s never looked so beautiful. And he is far more hypnotizing when he tells the truth.

“I wanna hear you.” You reply bluntly, and your wonderment grows tenfold when you catch the uncertainty flashing through his eyes.

          He grins down at his fingers, and when he looks up at you, he’s nodding his head.

“How about you let me take you out on a date?” He starts suddenly.

“How about you write me a song?”

          His tongue darts out of his mouth to wet his pinkish lips, and then his eyes crinkle, along with the ghost of a small laugh. He nods his head again.

“You know, if you never give me a chance, you’ll never know what you’re missing. I could be the guy of your dreams.”

You spare Choi Hyunsuk a single glance, and it’s now that you acknowledge his close proximity. He sits across you, sparingly, on the music room’s wooden bench, with his eyes wandering. You catch his stare at your lips. You know that you should move, and yet, you find yourself looking deeper into his starry eyes.

“That’s what scares me.”

Choi Hyunsuk leans in to kiss you.

You rush out the music room door.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The only part of Lee Byounggon’s beach party that isn’t swarming with drunken teenagers is the downstairs balcony.

          From the comfort of your stranded lawn chair, you can hear the remnants of Kim Seunghun’s beer pong game, and the shouts of your friend Park Jihoon, who has everyone convinced he can freestyle to Eminem’s ‘Rap God’. (You smile to yourself knowing that he can’t.)

          The night sky, speckled with gleaming stars, cowers over the small area in a cool toned haze. You are sipping on the watery mixture of orange liqueur and soda in your cup when the clumsy body of a tipsy Choi Hyunsuk barrels through the balcony doors.

“You’re here!” He clamors, sliding into the chair next to you and lying roughly against the chair’s upward slope. You find yourself leaning into his embrace, his touch, his warmth; and the brush of his fingers against your bare back is almost sobering.

“Y-Yeah, I’m here.” It’s a stutter when you first speak, but you can’t bother putting in the effort. Speaking with Choi Hyunsuk makes you want to stutter and the ease alcohol procures strips you down to your true self; it feels better this way. Much, much better.

“Thinking hard?” His head clumps down onto your shoulder. Silken strands of his hair skim the sensitive skin on your shoulder, your arm is ridden with goose bumps, but you stay put. This time, not pulling away. Instead, you lower your head alongside his, and you wonder if he can feel your heartbeat pulsating in your temple.

“Not really.” Your reply is absent minded, and he releases a vibrant giggle.

“Where’s the soul in that?” He repeats mockingly, and now, you start giggling too. “Seriously, [Y/N]. What’s your story? You’re always searching for answers with me. It’s my turn.”

          There’s a creeping sensation at the base of your neck. And you wonder how long he’s carried that thought, and how much longer it must’ve taken to muster the courage, and release it. Your mind is blank, and your body quivers, although the warmth he provides is mollifying. Your lips are more relaxed than you would’ve thought.

Your forehead pinches. “I don’t really have one.”

“Bullshit.”

You bite your lip.

“School... Family... Love.” He continues. “What’s your story?”

“Love.” You start shakily, whispering into the crown of his head. “Love is hard. I-It’s scary. Unreliable. I-I don’t like feeling that way.”

          Through the falling strands of your hair, you can feel his gaze fixed up at you. You cannot meet his eyes; you’re staring straight up at the moon, still so bold and resilient. Qualities you wish you could mirror.

“I disagree.” He mumbles. A raw pitch in his voice that dries the moistness in your sweltering eyes. You look down.

“Yeah?”

“I-I think when you’ve found the right person, loving them is easy.”

It’s half past midnight when you push your hands onto Choi Hyunsuk’s broad chest, and half past your breaking point when you wrap yourself in his embrace, and press your lips vehemently against his.

It’s half past his grandest dream when Choi Hyunsuk closes the balcony door behind.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Choi Hyunsuk is most heavenly when his nose is bumping into yours, and his lips soothe over in batches of giggly kisses.

          By now, you have your hands tangled in wavy locks of his messy hair, and your thumb is pressed firmly on the smooth curve of his jaw. It’s then that you cradle the cusp of his face and skim over the tan skin of his neck. He is kissing sloppily onto your lips, and then at your cheeks, and when you turn your face into the crook of his neck, he places more at the base of your exposed collarbone. You breathe deeply into his sultry skin, and it’s a mixture of fading ocean water, and the sweet smell of vanilla.

          Weeks spent swearing Choi Hyunsuk is art reach their peak in this moment; because now, you know that he is.

When his lips lose their fervor, and his body clumps onto yours, together you travel to the neighbouring living room and lie instinctively on the couch.

Choi Hyunsuk is most heavenly when you’re falling asleep to the gentle thumping of his heartbeat.

You are most heavenly when you place sleepy kisses on his rounded cheeks.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

If sound had colour, you think Choi Hyunsuk’s morning voice is misty baby blue.

          A sound that’s as soft as the sky at daybreak, and as wistful as the distant moon, barely visible in the nomadic sky. There is a rasp in the centre of his chest, and a soreness of the throat that seems to melt away with a few kisses. Radiant morning light spills into the disheveled room, like snowy milk into freshly brewed coffee, and you bask in the comfort it provides. Hyunsuk has an arm wrapped firmly around your waist, and another, perched tentatively at your blushing cheeks. He runs the back of his fingers over the patches of scarlet red, and as if to take the heat away from your face, murmurs into your fingers.

“Wish me luck tonight.”

          Begrudgingly, he moves his body upward, and you, along with it. He broadens, as if to stand up and straighten his wrinkled clothing, prepare for the big day ahead, but with a sudden spur of your tightly woven heartstrings, you grasp tightly onto his wrist, and face him with glossy eyes.

“You won’t need it.” You say onto the warmth of his skin. A timid grin makes its way onto his lips, and you wonder how it tastes.

You pull him back onto the couch.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Choi Hyunsuk greets the stage with the blinding luminescence of his acoustic guitar.

          There, under those sputtering stage lights, you recognize a new found fluidity in his presence; a sentiment in his eyes that is much deeper than the likes of his flawless exterior. It is the sheer rawness of his performance, the subtle melody of instruments, the deep lyrics of the soul, the voice of silver and gold; these things, amplified for the room to hear—not just to spectate, but to absorb.

          On stage once more, there is an air of extravagance in the way he rummages through his hair, the way he strums long and taut fingers against the string of his guitar, a desperation in the twinkle of his eyes, and a mystery on his lips—a mystery you continually solve with your lips against his, with your hands in that hair, with your grip fixed on his sparkling neck—Choi Hyunsuk is the kind of boy that might inspire a change from within. Entice your aching soul, and make you want to become the version of yourself that lives in faraway lands, lives in glorious dreams. On stage, you swore he was like Apollo.

Off stage, you knew he was something deeper.

You greet Hyunsuk backstage, when his performance is long over, but the crowd still cheers in his radiant memory. You first wrap your arms tightly around his neck, then push his guitar to the side, and pull his face downward. For a moment, you simply stare. He is dreary eyed and heavy breathed and he’s looking at you with such fondness; you gulp in the back of your throat and blink away the tears.

“I’m guessing that was worthy of a good review?”

          You smack his chest, and with a playful roll to the eyes, pull toward him at full speed; your lips hovering over his teasingly.

“Just kiss me, you moron.”

          His lips meet yours in a kiss you’ve imagined a hundred times, and still, it knocks the wind out of your lungs. You lunge deeper. And deeper. And deeper; into him.

          Over the time that you’ve known him, Hyunsuk had been the boy delved deep in his persona, overpowered by public pretense. But it is now that you understand Choi Hyunsuk has galaxies of emotion. Now that you understand, he may never have been the sun, nor the moon, but rather, someone that made you feel; made you learn. The touch of his lips against your cheek, the song of his soul mending the loosened strings of your heart; it’s now that you strike a divine realization in its own right;

Choi Hyunsuk’s love is cosmic.

And you love him to the moon and back.

 ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“are you out of your mind?” “I do that all the time, it’s not dangerous!” “all the time?” “yes, and as you can see, I’m still alive” “y/n, you have to be careful, what if you fall?” “stop being so overprotective gon, I know what I’m doing” “someday I’ll have a heart attack and it’ll be your fault, you little princess”

you also remember convincing him to sit on the railing with you, and how he didn’t let go of your hand until you both got down of it. byounggon has been your best friend since you can remember: you did everything together since your two royal families were and still are very close, you grew up together, and you two were there when the other one was sad and needed a hug. every person in the kingdom called you ‘the little royal couple’ because you were inseparable. every time one of you was doing something for the first time, the other was there, watching and holding their hand if they were scared. you two were also the first kiss of the other. you remember that day like it was yesterday: you were sitting on the railing like every other night, and byounggon was sitting next to you, holding your hand because he was “afraid to fall”, and you were looking at the moon together.

“it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” you turn your head to look at byounggon, and you nod. “yes, it is” he smiles at you and he turns his head to look at the moon. you start admiring his features like you do every time he is not looking at you, and you stay like this for a few minutes, not realizing that byounggon is staring back at you. “I know that I’m very beautiful and that you can’t resist me, but stop staring at me like that, it’s becoming creepy” you snap out of your thoughts, and as soon as you realize what happened, you start blushing like crazy. byounggon laughs and squeezes your hand to reassure you, looking at you in the eyes. his laugh slowly starts to fade, just like the little smile that formed on your lips, and in a few seconds, everything is in silence, and you two are lost in the eyes of the other. byounggon’s eyes slowly start to shift from your eyes to your mouth for a couple of times, until he breaks the silence. “can I kiss you?” for a few seconds, you’re surprised by his question, but as soon as you look at him in the eyes, all your worries disappear, and you nod, smiling at him. byounggon smiles too, and leans closer to you, reducing the gap between you two, until his lips touch yours. the kiss is a little slow and soft, but also clumsy and awkward being your first time. when you break the kiss and make eye contact with each other, you both start blushing and a laugh escapes your lips. “I never told you this, but I wanted to kiss you for a very long time” byounggon takes your other hand in his and starts drawing circles on your skin with his thumb. you smile at him. “mee too” “and… there is also another thing that I want to do” “what is it?” “asking your father to marry you” you look at him in disbelief, not knowing how to react. “b-byounggon…” “I know, I know, it may seem something impossible because our parents probably already decided who will be my future wife and your future husband, but… y/n, my princess, my love, my best friend, I love you so much, and I want to make you the happiest woman in the universe. I want you to be my Queen, and I want to be your King. I want you to be my beautiful Queen, forever.” at this point, tears are rolling down your face, and soft sobs are escaping from your mouth. “oh no, don’t cry please, did I say something wrong?” “no, no, it’s not that… I.. I love you too, and… and what you said was beautif-” another sob escapes your lips, and you start crying in byounggon’s arms, while he rubs your back. after a few minutes, you’re able to calm down, so you start speaking again. “I honestly don’t deserve you, gon, you’re a beautiful person, what did I do to have someone like you in my life?” byounggon smiles at you and dries your cheeks, wet from the tears, with his thumb. “what did you do to deserve me? you’re a beautiful person, inside and out, you always help people from all the kingdom, rich and poor, you always play with the little kids in the streets, you buy flowers and you gift them to the little girls and you let them play with your hair… I am the one who doesn’t deserve you. you’re truly an angel, y/n, my beautiful angel” byounggon smiles at you and leans in to give you another kiss, that you instantly return.

“Nice to meet you Y/n. I’m Seunghun.” You’re about to answer that you already know it but, for your friend’s sake, you decide to keep quiet.

“Yeah, sure, me too I guess.” You say instead, hearing how your friend’s heart beats faster when he looks at her even if she’s far away from you. Because the real reason why you’re here, with people you know nothing about, in a club you couldn’t feel less interested in, is because of your friend’s stupid crush on the monitor.

Yes, on Kim Seunghun.

You have nothing against him, he seems like a nice person, but you just think it’s unnecessary to go through this, just because your friend doesn’t have the guts to come here by herself and conquer him. Ah, the things you do for friendship. You still remember how you got dragged here.

“Y/n, we have a mission.” You knew that when your friend looked like that it meant nothing good.

“I’m not in.” You answer hurriedly.

Your friend looked annoyed, she covered the place where her heart was on her chest as if you had really hurt her feelings, and she scoffed.

“I haven’t even told you! How do you know you don’t want to be in?”

“I know you like the back of my hand, you’re up to something I’m going to be against for sure.” You analyzed her expression, the little tic on her right eye proved you right.

“I want you to join the new theatre club with me.”

“Why-” you began, loudly. When people around you began to look at you, amused, you lowered your voice. “Why would I do that?”

“Because Seunghun is the monitor and is your friend’s chance to conquer him?”

“I’m not doing it.”

But you did.

So yes, here you are. While your friend’s acting abilities are awesome and she’s earned a few compliments on the first class, you are just sitting, reading the little piece of the script you’ve been assigned over and over again.

“Need problem with that?” Seunghun itself asks you.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. I just can’t act.” You answer.

“It’s good to know you’re here then.” He smiles and you force yourself to do the same.

He’s nice, you can’t hate him even if you wanted to. What you do hate is wasting one hour of your time just looking at how your friend tries to catch his attention.

But you know you’re going to have to keep this going until her friend decides to confess.

The following day, when you leave your house earlier than what you expected, you take your time to make your way to the bus stop you take every day to go to college. Until you hear your name being called.

“Y/N!”

You turn around, finding Seunghun running towards you. He wears a big smile on his face as if today was the best day ever. You then remember your friend telling you how his positivity was one of his most attractive qualities, and at this moment, you have to agree with her.

“What are you doing here?” You ask the boy.

“I always make the same way to college as you, haven’t you realized?” He pouts.

“R-really?” Every time you got into the bus you were late, so you didn’t even dare to look at the people on the bus, you just take a seat and close your eyes. You should have paid attention. “I’m so sorry, I’m usually late to catch the bus.”

“Yes, I know.” He laughs. “Do you mind if I accompany you?”

“Well, why not.” You shrug. He chuckles and walks by your side.

“Did you like yesterday’s lesson?” He asks you when you are finally at the bus stop. You try to lie as good as possible.

“I did! It was good. I just really really can’t act.” You warn him.

“Well, there’s always a beginning, right? I’m sure you’ll end up doing great.”

“You have high expectations I see.” You chuckle and he nods. “I’m waiting for you to give up when you realize you can’t fix a majored in photography. We usually stay behind the scenes.”

He seems scandalized.

“Of course you can!” He cheers. “I’m pretty sure that if both of us can do a great job if we want to. I’m looking forward to seeing you in our first practice.”

You are about to add something else but then you see the bus approaching and you wait for it to stop. Seunghun gets in first and you see him taking a seat at the back, then he makes a gesture for you to sit by his side, but you know you shouldn’t, your friend would be very hurt. So you take a seat at the front of the bus and listen to music until the way finishes.

“Do you want to know who comes to school on the same bus as I do?” You wink an eye to your friend when you get off it. She always waits for you whenever you get to university.

“Apart from Seunghun?” She asks.

“How did you know?”

“I wait for you every day, how didn’t you know?” She answers instead, emphasizing the ‘you’. “Did anything happen for you to realize?”

“Nah, we just waited for the bus together today, I came here earlier. I’m thinking that you may want to sleep by my house someday.”

“Don’t say it twice.” And you both laugh.

Today’s lesson at the theatre club wasn’t much interesting for you, but your friend seems to be making friends with that shy boy at the back and she’s talked to Seunghun a few times, that’s why you think it has been productive and you feel satisfied.

“Okay, I’m thinking that maybe to start we could read some books that are classics. Like that, we can practice at home if anybody wants to, of course, and also analyze them here, deal?”

A little mix of voices answers “deal”.

You look around you. Some of them are really interested in this club, but some others are still getting used to it. That makes you smile, you’re not the only one that feels out of place. You hear Seunghun’s voice explaining something, but you can’t really focus on whatever he’s saying. Suddenly, you snap back to reality when you feel a book being placed on your hands.

“It’s not necessary for you to read these books, college is stressing enough.” Seunghun explains, out loud. “ But if you ever feel curious, or you want to feel inspired and have an idea for this class, then feel welcome! Thank you for today!”

The very few people on the assembly room wave goodbye at him and Byounggon and your friend holds your hand to finally leave.

You look at your book, which doesn’t seem very appealing. You don’t even bother to read the title, you just keep it inside of your bag and finally head home.

The following day, again, you aren’t late to catch the bus. So yes, you obviously coincide again with him on the bus stop.

“Hello.” He greets with his usual smile.

“Hi.” You greet back. From there, an awkward silence strikes, you don’t feel like talking since you don’t know what you should talk about.

The bus arrives and you take a seat first this time. Seunghun sits right behind you and pulls out a book from his bag.

“How’s life going?” He must have realized that you are very interested in what he’s doing, but he doesn’t even look back.

“G-good.” You try to bring out a topic so that you don’t seem ridiculous. “D-do you like reading?”

“I do! Ironically, I read more novels than theatre books, but I do.” He smiles once again and turns around to talk to you. “And you?”

“I do, but I’ve never read theatre.”

“You should try if you ever feel bored and, well, if you want to practice, but I think you aren’t very interested in that, right?”

“It’s not that I’m not interested, it’s more like I don’t have that ability so I just don’t try it. I just wanted to accompany my friend.”

“That’s nice of you.” He compliments. Then, you think you should talk about your friend, to help her out.

“Well, she wasn’t going to try it if I weren’t with her, and she has a lot of talent, it would be a waste if she didn’t try.”

“She’s very talented, you’re right.” He agrees with you. “I’m glad she likes theatre.”

From that day, it became a routine. You would intentionally wake up sooner, talk to Seunghun at the bus stop and then take a seat by his side to say nice things about your friend.

Eventually, instead of just chatting for a bit you would talk more and more, about her, about books, about acting, about college. Suddenly the awkward feeling you had before has turned into a I-think-you’re-nice-but-you’re-not-my-friend feeling. He would greet you enthusiastically at university and you would just smile back so that your friend doesn’t get the wrong idea.

“You and Seunghun seem close.” She commented one day.

“I usually coincide with him every morning at the bus stop, he must be tired of me at this point.” You look at your friend and she’s forcing a smile, that breaks your heart. “I didn’t want to tell you this because you might hit me, but each morning I tell him how perfect you are at everything you do. It’s my plan.”

She hit you, as you predicted, in a friendly way, as a signal of “seriously, I don’t care”, but you knew she does care.

“I’ve been thinking.” She says, tiredly. “I’m just embarrassing myself.” She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“What? No you’re n-”

“I am, y/n. I’ve decided to forget about him.” You open your eyes in pure shock.

“Why? When did you decide this?”

“I’ve been thinking about this for a few days. He’s obviously not interested, it’s not worthy to keep this going.” You pout, your friend has never been in love with anyone else since you’ve known her. “I’ll try just one last time. After that, I’ll erase Kim Seunghun completely.” She smiled forcedly once again.

Suddenly, when the bell rang, your friend’s eyes met a tall, black-haired guy and she smiled tightly.

“I’ll catch you later, I have to go with Midam to our class.”

“Goodbye.” You said quickly, as she smiled you kindly and gave you a hug only to run after that Midam boy.

You felt a bit sad for her the entire day.

“Good morning y/n.” Seunghun greets as usual. “Oh god look at your face, are you a zombie?”

“You’re so funny.” You smile sarcastically. “ I’ve barely slept this night. You should feel thankful that I still woke up early.”

“Am I as important?.” He teases once again. “I’m glad! You’re as important in mine.”

You roll your eyes, but you still smile. You talk about trivial things while you wait for the bus. He hears you complaining about this and that but never interrupts, if only you knew how much he likes to just listen to your voice.

When you get into the bus, he suddenly opens his bag and grabs a theatre book.

You look at him raising an eyebrow and he smirks.

“What’s that for?”

“You and I.” He says pointing first in your direction and then in his. “Are going to work in your acting.”

“Please don’t.” You beg, but he seems determined.

“You can’t scape.” You roll your eyes.

“This is going to be embarrassing.”

“Nothing is as embarrassing as my first times acting, you can’t win that. Now, let’s start.”

He opens the book at some random page and makes you read a dialogue out loud, making weird noises when you make a mistake and approaching you more and more to read the script better.

“You should emphasize more here.” His expression wasn’t just the typical Seunghun, he seems more serious than he uses to and you can tell how professional he can be sometimes, despite his young age. That’s why you ignore his proximity and the fact that you’re totally comfortable with that.

“Like this?” You repeat it and he nods but isn’t completely satisfied.

“One more time, from here.” You, by instinct, move a bit your arm to hold the book better, not realizing that your arms are even touching and that your hands are very close.

So close that they crash into each other when you want to turn the page at the same time as he does.

At this point, he’s afraid that you may listen to his heart beating so fast.

You keep that going until you get to college, but you don’t realize how important your proximity is until the bus stops and you find your shoulder almost touching his. You stand up as soon as possible and get out of the bus to greet your friend and remind you who really has a crush on him. However, when you get down of the bus, your friend isn’t there to greet you.

From that day, everything goes downhill. Seunghun behaves as usual, but he just seems much interested in everything you do, he’s more attentive than he used to be and he would sometimes bring you a cup of coffee to drink without the driver’s knowledge.

“You’re doing so good at interpreting this!” He cheers when you read something. “See? I told you that you would be good at acting.”

“That’s because you’re a good teacher.”

“But you’re pretty good at that too! I’m proud actually, like, genuinely proud!” And then he always gives you a friendly pat on your shoulder as in ‘you’ve done a good job!’

You feel your heart beat beating faster every time, but it drops when you get to university and your friend isn’t there to greet you just like she used to do.

Whenever you ask her, she says it’s because she needs to take her time to move on from Seunghun, but you don’t understand what that has to do with you. However, you let it be, after all, what else could you do?

She looked sad that Thursday morning, almost as if she was about to cry, but she wouldn’t say a thing to you. She only said she would explain the following day.

“Let’s try this scene.” Seunghun told you on the bus, as it was usual for you. It was almost unbelievable how you got to enjoy all those things, how you actually looked forward to acting with him at eight in the morning. Every time you acted with him just seemed right, enjoyable. Everything with him, in general, was. He ended up being so “your type” that it hurt like hell once you remembered you shouldn’t be thinking about that. “I’ll improvise it, okay?”

“Wow look at that, he’s a professional.”

“Stop it.” He didn’t seem amused and that made you pout, you wanted your smiley boy back, what on earth could be bothering him? “You start.”

“So.” You began reading. “Is there anything you would like to say me?”

You had no clue what was the scene about. It was the tradition, you would end up discovering how to perform it as you read.

“You’ll think I’m crazy, but I’ve been thinking about this for a while and yesterday somebody told me to do this” You furrowed, looking for those lines in the script. They weren’t there.

“Just keep reading your part.” He whispered, as serious as before.

“Okay.” You whispered back due to his proximity. He was trying to read the script so his face was so close to yours. “Huh? What do you mean?”

Surprisingly, the script matched well with Seunghun’s improvisation and you thought that maybe it wasn’t that improvised.

“I don’t think I know you entirely, we have known each other for a few months, but maybe that’s what I find so fascinating about you. Please y/n, believe me when I say I like you.” You froze. That wasn’t in the script as well.

“No, you can’t like me. Are you sure about that?” You kept reading, ignoring other character’s intervention. Maybe it did had something to do with the play, right? Seunghun can’t like you out of all the people that have a crush on him, including your friend.

“Dead serious.” You looked at him, wondering if it was really the truth, if he really meant it. “I like you, y/n.”

Your heart dropped, and you couldn’t give a proper answer. This couldn’t be happening.

You remained silent until you got to the university and got out of the bus as soon as possible. You really weren’t expecting your friend to wait for you there since she had stopped doing it months ago, but she was there, smiling. You thought you would throw up just thinking of what had happened.

She smiled sadly and looked for someone else behind you. She stopped when her eyes met Seunghun’s

“Think about your answer thoroughly. Don’t think about him, don’t think about me, think about your feelings. Both of us will be fine.”

How she knew what happened remained being a mystery for months.

You didn’t take your time to think. It was pretty clear what your answer was.

“I’m sorry. I’ve thought about everything carefully so I don’t break anyone’s heart, but it’s inevitable.” You looked at the tall boy in front of you and he nodded carefully. “I’m really flattered. Maybe, no, I’m sure that at some point I did like you that way, but it’s not fair. I’m sorry, Seunghun.”

The blonde boy shook his head as if he was saying “don’t worry about it”, but you did worry about it.

“I’ll wait for you tomorrow, as always, but I understand if you don’t come.” He commented, and then, he left.

Obviously, you didn’t catch the bus that day.

Your friend never told you when and how did she become so close to her crush, but she seemed to know what had been going through Seunghun’s mind that day. She seemed happy when you chose her over him, and that was enough for you.

“Are you going to keep on going to the theatre club? You haven’t gone this week.” She asked you a week before the “confession day” when you were studying at your house.

“I don’t think so.” What would happen if I see him again? It would just hurt everyone, even if I terribly miss him. This is for the best, y/n, your friend has definitely a chance now you always think to yourself. “What about you?”

“I will. I’m not going to let Midam on his own.”

“Who’s Midam?”

“Oh, he’s just a great friend of mine I met at the theatre club.” She smiled genuinely for the first time.

“Oh.”

It wasn’t hard to tell that your conversations weren’t the same. You couldn’t help but blame yourself for what happened and she, inside her head, had been doing the same thing.

But, overall, you felt guilty because now you were the one who couldn’t look at Seunghun in the eyes, the one who didn’t have the guts to be with him in the morning even if you missed it, and you couldn’t think that way because you can’t have a crush on the puppy-like boy.

“Look, I’ve been thinking.” You friend said, suddenly catching your attention. “I want you to call Seunghun and tell him you like him back, that you choose him.”

You were beyond confused.

“Why would I do such a thing?”

“Because the poor boy looks devasted now that you don’t go to his theatre lessons and you don’t even look at him in the morning.” You furrowed and looked down.

“I don’t care.”

You friend laughed. You thought she was being ironic, but she was genuinely amused by your reaction.

“Of course you do. You like him, as much as he likes you.” You widened your eyes in surprise. “You’re really surprised that I know? Please, y/n, I know you like the back of my hand, besides, this situation isn’t helping anyone. I can’t help but feel guilty.”

“Guilty? B-but it was my choice. I want to be your friend rather than with him.”

“I know, y/n, and I’m very thankful for that, but I can’t be an obstacle until I move on, because we know I won’t try again, and who knows when that will happen.” She held your hand. “I know this is painful, but let me take a break. Be with Seunghun, date him, or not, do whatever you want to do, but please be with him. That would make both of you happy and I want both of you to be happy. I won’t be anywhere to be seen until I’ve finally moved on, okay? I don’t want you to suppress your feeling because of me, overall if he likes you back.”

You felt like crying.

“But I don’t want to let you go.” Your voice broke in the middle of the sentence.

“Neither do I, but believe me, this is for the best, for everyone. I won’t be completely gone, you’ll see me around and we will talk sometimes. Just please, do this for me, will you?”

You said yes only because she seemed to really need it. A break from him, and from you.

“Call him, please, you both need each other. Do it for me.”

You cried for hours and hours when she left, and sometime between the tears and sobs, you dialed Seunghun’s number.

“Y/n?”

“I like you too you know?” You found the voice you thought you had lost. The other side of the line stayed silent and you sobbed again. “Please Seunghun, I need to be with someone right now.”

You explained to him what happened shortly and he sighed.

“I’ll be there in five, wait for me a little longer, okay?”

And you spent that bittersweet day crying and clinging onto him while he stroked your hair gently.

“Good morning y/n.” He greets as usual.

“Good morning Hun.” You peck his lips quickly and take a seat by his side at the bus.

You’ve been dating for a couple of months, but it’s impossible to completely stop being awkward around each other.

“When do you think we will go through the awkward phase?” He asks, jokingly.

“I don’t know, but I want it gone, please.” He laughs and holds your hand.

“We aren’t as awkward, see? I can hold your hand without being embarrassed.” His red ears prove you wrong. You laugh even louder and kiss him quickly in the lips.

“Another one, please, you know, to go through this phase.” You do as requested and kiss him shortly.

He makes a weird expression, he’s obviously not satisfied.

“Another one.” This one’s a bit longer, and you feel him smiling through it.