when you heard that sohee actually dyed his hair blonde, you decided that you hated him.

you had to convince yourself of it. otherwise, you would spend the rest of your life trapped in this stupid, neverending cycle of heartbreak.

“you’d look so good blonde,” you said to sohee the last time he was in your bed.

his arm was draped around your bare shoulders, your cheek pressed against his chest while your fingers wandered through his hair. at your words, he raised an eyebrow.

your heart skipped a beat.

if you hadn’t been so exhausted from the previous round, you might have jumped his bones all over again.

“really?”

his hand moved lazily to your face. he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before letting his fingers linger against your cheek.

you smiled and nodded against his skin.

he looked down at you with sleepy eyes and a small smile you wanted desperately to believe belonged only to you. for a moment, it almost felt like he was yours.

but he wasn’t.

sohee was only yours after a party. after a bad exam. sometimes before a party. sometimes to celebrate a good grade. otherwise, he belonged to everyone else. never you.

after he failed a job interview and you got dumped by a fling, the two of you found yourselves drunk enough to stop making good decisions.

the rest of your friends called it a night when sohee insisted on another round at his place for new year’s. you were the only one who said yes. you told yourself it was because your heart was broken and you wanted somewhere to put the hurt.

that night, sohee told you that you were beautiful. you told him that he was amazing. somehow, both confessions led to him making you feel amazing as the clock struck midnight.

since then, the two of you have always found your way back to each other. when things were really bad. when things were really good. when you were really drunk.

somewhere along the way, you realized you wanted sohee all the time.

drunk. sober. happy. miserable.

you wanted him on ordinary tuesdays and sleepless thursday nights. you wanted him when nothing remarkable had happened at all. but you knew that wasn’t how this worked. things like this were never allowed to become something else.

there were no spoken rules. still, you knew not to tell your friends about that first night—the one you had convinced yourself would be the only night.

sohee followed suit. he even took it a step further, treating you like less of a friend than everyone else whenever other people were around.

as if distance could erase what happened behind closed doors.

to make matters worse, realizing you had feelings for sohee drastically reduced the number of men you could tolerate looking at. meanwhile, sohee’s roster of girls only seemed to grow.

so the moments you got with him became precious. when you traced the moles on his skin. when he absentmindedly drew shapes against your arm. when you kissed his shoulder and played with his hair. when he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. he was good at lying, too. you had learned that.

“but don’t actually do it, hee.”

you gave his hair a small tug, hoping it would inflict even a fraction of the pain this arrangement had started causing you. imagining sohee blonde made you dizzy.

he hummed before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“why’s that?”

sleep was already pulling at your eyelids, but you decided you wanted one more kiss before it stole sohee away from you.

because i’ll want you all to myself.

when a blonde sohee really stands in front of you and the rest of your friends, you realize it isn’t actually that difficult to hate him.

he’s looking only at you, the same way he looks at you when he tells you you’re pretty. the same way he looks at you when he’s touching you. like he knows. like he knows you love him.

the blonde looks amazing. he looks painfully handsome. the grin on his face is too smug. your stomach turns. you excuse yourself from the table.

one of your friends—the one convinced you and sohee had some catastrophic fight on new year’s—offers to come with you. her eyes dart between you and him. you refuse.

you need air. you need to be alone. you need sohee to stop being blonde.

outside the bar, your feet carry you two and a half blocks before you can breathe properly again. tears prick at your eyes. you press the heels of your palms against them before anything can fall.

sohee listened to you, which is the problem. if he had laughed it off, forgotten about it, ignored it completely, none of this would hurt so much.

but he listened. the realization plants something ugly inside you. something possessive. you want blonde sohee to be yours because blonde sohee exists because of you.

everyone already wants him. you’ve spent years watching people want him.

but now he somehow looks even better than before, and every time someone compliments his hair, you’ll remember that the idea came from a sleepy conversation after sex.

he’s blonde because he listened to you. and now you want him all to yourself more than ever. which means you’ll never have him.

you ask a pretty girl outside the bar for a cigarette. she hands one over without hesitation. you place it between your lips and prepare to ask for a light, but she disappears back inside before you can.

you stare down at the cigarette. you don’t even smoke. you think you just wanted something else to focus on. something that wasn’t sohee.

“need a light?” a voice appears behind you.

your shoulders tense. you don’t have to turn around to know he’s grinning.

“yeah,” you say. you keep your eyes elsewhere. “do you have one?”

from the corner of your eye, you see him shake his head.

of course he doesn’t. sohee hates cigarettes. he hates anything stupid. anything addictive. anything a person could end up depending on.

“no, but my scalp was so hot after all that bleach, i swear it could’ve started a fire.” he laughs.

nothing is funny. tears prick your eyes again. you slip the cigarette into your purse.

“i should probably get back,” you mumble, stepping around him. “they’re probably waiting.”

his hand wraps around your wrist. the touch sends a shiver down your spine.

“yn.” his voice is soft.

you don’t know what he’s about to say. maybe he’ll tell you he knows. maybe he’ll tell you this has gone too far. maybe he’ll tell you he’s sorry. still, you let him stop you. because hope is a stupid thing.

his hand slides from your wrist into your hand. he takes a few steps backward until you’re standing face-to-face.

“do you like my hair?”

of course you like his hair. you love his hair. you told him to dye it blonde, and he listened.

you love him.

suddenly, your chest feels too tight. sohee is looking at you with something bright in his eyes. hope. stars. something you don’t want to name.

this time, you can’t stop the tears.

“you’re mean,” you whisper. your voice barely exists. you drop your gaze to his shoes. he’s wearing the same pair as you. you wonder if he knows.

sohee’s expression immediately crumples. his hands cup your face. he tilts your head back toward him. “what’s wrong, baby?” he asks softly. “why are you crying?”

you think he’s punishing you. you don’t know for what. maybe for loving him. the word baby feels like a knife twisting between your ribs.

he’s never called you that while fully clothed. he’s only ever looked at you like this behind locked doors.

you wonder how many other girls he’s called baby. how many other girls told him he’d look good blonde. maybe one of them is the reason he actually did it.

“i hate you,” you lie. the words come out weak and small.

sohee freezes. his world seems to stop rotating. if you hate him, then he dyed his hair blonde for nothing.

“i’m mean,” he repeats blankly. “and you hate me.”

“yes.”

“then why are you crying?”

“why are you blonde?!” you shoot back immediately.

sohee’s eyebrows lift. to him, the answer is simple. you told him he’d look good blonde, so he went blonde. it never occurred to him that there could be another answer.

before he can say anything, your eyes catch a familiar figure walking down the sidewalk, a lifeline.

“riku! hey,” you call.

the dark-haired boy turns around, confused at first, before his face brightens. “hey, yn!”

he walks over without hesitation. his eyes flick between you and sohee. something passes across his face. understanding, maybe. riku knows who sohee is. more importantly, he knows what sohee is to you.

“it’s been a while,” he says warmly. his hand finds your wrist.

“we should catch up soon.”

you nod immediately. “yeah. definitely. i’m free right now?”

sohee understands at once. his face grows hot. suddenly, he feels stupid. he feels confused. his scalp still feels strange from the bleach, and he’s been worrying all week that he ruined his hair forever for no reason. and now you’re standing here holding another guy’s hand in front of him.

“i think i’m done for the night, yn.” his voice comes out flatter than he intends. he runs a hand through his hair, the hair you told him to dye. “see you later?” the question leaves him before he can stop it, hopeful and pathetic, maybe.

because no matter how strange things have gotten between the two of you, you’ve never gone out drinking and not ended up at his apartment afterward.

“don’t count on it.” you mean it. or at least, you think you do.

for a second, neither of you moves. then you watch his face fall. it’s subtle, but you’ve spent years memorizing sohee. you see it. you watch him turn away and watch his stupid, perfect blonde head disappear down the sidewalk.

and somehow that hurts, too.

sohee thinks you actually hate him. he can’t figure out when it happened. he replays every conversation in his head during the walk home. he wonders if he missed something, or if he said the wrong thing. maybe he should’ve never dyed his hair at all.

the image of you standing with another guy follows him the entire way. riku’s hand around your wrist, and the way you smiled at him. the way you told sohee not to count on it.

for the first time in a long time, sohee goes home alone.

it’s been two weeks since you’ve seen sohee, which means it’s been three weeks since you last touched him.

you can count the days since then, but you’ve lost track of how long he’s been on your mind. each passing day feels more unbearable than the last. you miss him. you miss the scent lingering at the back of his nape and drumming your fingers against the warm, smooth skin of his bare back. you miss the way he sings your name softly when he wakes before you in the mornings. you miss the amber in his eyes that only seems to appear beneath sunlight, glowing like something hidden just beneath the surface.

it’s become a cycle. you stare at the last message he sent, then the only picture you have together, then his instagram, and then back to the messages again. when you wake up, you remember the hurt on sohee’s face the last time you spoke. when you walk to class, you find yourself missing the feeling of his hand against your skin. when you eat, you wonder if he’s eating properly these days. when you lie awake at night, you try to remember what it felt like when you and sohee were just friends.

to you, sohee was always the life of the party. if anything ever went wrong, he could fix it with a joke, a funny face, or a laugh so contagious that everyone else had no choice but to join in. you’ve always been the quiet one, too cautious, too afraid to let go and have fun. the first day you spent with sohee, he made you laugh so hard your sides ached.

these days, sohee only makes you sad.

after two and a half glasses of wine, you confided in riku.

you told him how badly you wanted sohee. how happy he made you. how much he had come to mean to you, and how terrifying that realization felt.

riku told you to be honest with him. he said sohee deserved to know how you felt. he said that maybe sohee felt the same way. but how could you?

if you told sohee that you loved him, you risked losing one of your favorite people in the world. you wouldn’t be able to go to him anymore, not when things were good and not when they were bad. there would be no late-night calls. no comfort. no laughter. no sohee.

a life without sohee doesn’t seem worth living. even if he’s surrounded by other girls, even if he’s never really been yours, he’s still yours sometimes. thinking about losing him entirely only makes you realize how much you need him.

it’s almost two in the morning when sohee gets your text.

he’s standing by the door of his apartment, about to go for a walk in a desperate attempt to clear his head after what feels like the tenth straight night without sleep. his hand is already on the doorknob when his phone buzzes.

sohee barely glances at the notification. he assumes it’s another girl who isn’t you.

two months ago, he probably would’ve answered. he would’ve welcomed the distraction, let someone else occupy his mind for a few hours. but lately, every conversation feels hollow. every face blends together.

because none of them are you.

he pulls out his phone. all your text says is "hi," but it’s enough. it’s enough to make his heart stumble against his ribs. enough to make him abandon the walk entirely. enough to make him shove his phone back into his pocket, lace up his shoes, and start running.

if he takes the shortcut through the park, he can make it to your apartment in ten minutes.

maybe less.

it’s been five minutes, and sohee still hasn’t responded to your text.

before panicking, you remind yourself that it’s two in the morning. he’s probably asleep. you’re the one lying awake every night, tossing and turning and living in a constant state of unrest. sohee is probably sleeping peacefully.

you’re about to give up and call it a night when a knock sounds at your door.

your stomach drops.

with every step toward the door, your heart rattles harder against your ribs. by the time your hand reaches the doorknob, you’re convinced it can’t possibly be him.

when you open the door, sohee is standing there trying to catch his breath.

his cheeks are flushed pink. his blonde hair is messy from the wind, falling into his eyes as his chest rises and falls beneath a thin t-shirt. for a second, neither of you says anything.

then sohee’s face breaks into a grin the moment his eyes land on you.

you want to cry. all at once, you’re struck by the overwhelming realization that you love him.

before any tears can fall, you reach for his wrist and pull him toward you. the second his arms wrap around you, something inside your chest finally settles. you think sohee sighs against your hair.

“you ran here?” you mumble into his chest. he smells like sweat and sohee.

“yeah,” he says softly. his voice vibrates through you.

“why?”

sohee pulls back just enough to look at you. his eyes find yours immediately.

“you texted me.”

you stare at him. his arm around your waist doesn’t loosen. if anything, it tightens slightly. there’s nowhere to look except his eyes. your cheeks begin to burn beneath his gaze.

your fuck buddy dyed his hair blonde because you told him it would look good. then he ran to your apartment at two in the morning because you sent him a text that only said hi after weeks of no contact.

you aren’t sure what you’re supposed to do with that information.

“come in,” you say eventually. your face feels impossibly hot. you try to step away.

“it’s been so long. i don’t get a kiss?”

sohee pulls you back against him with the cheekiest grin you’ve ever seen.

your entire face burns, because that’s the problem with kissing sohee.

if you kiss him tonight, you won’t stop there. and if you don’t stop there, nothing will change. you’ll still love him, he’ll still be sohee. and tomorrow morning you’ll wake up wanting even more.

“let’s at least get inside first,” you say weakly.

sohee rolls his eyes, but the grin never leaves his face.

the second his grip loosens, you lean forward and press a quick kiss to his cheek before slipping out of his arms and making a beeline for the kitchen.

behind you, everything goes quiet. you glance over your shoulder.

sohee’s head has fallen back. he’s staring at the ceiling with one hand covering his eyes, a helpless grin spreading across his face. his ears are pink. his cheeks are pink. for a moment, he looks younger than usual. softer.

you have to look away before your heart does something stupid.

sohee thinks you’re way too cute.

he inches around the corner into the kitchen, where you have your head buried in the fridge.

when you spin around, he can’t quite hide his smile.

“want a water?” you ask, pressing a cold bottle against your flushed cheeks. “since you ran and all?”

sohee is standing too close and he’s grinning.

before you can take a step back, he hooks two fingers into the pocket of your hoodie and gently pulls you toward him. your breath catches. your chest rises and falls with anticipation while you clutch the water bottle between the two of you.

“i would love…” he says, his voice low enough to make your heart race. your hands start shaking.

then sohee releases you, reaches past your hands, and takes the bottle. “a water. thanks, yn.”

he twists the cap open and grins. sohee watches your reaction and remembers exactly why you became his favorite girl to play with. you wear every emotion openly—surprise, annoyance, hope. all of it passes across your face before you can stop it.

he loves that about you.

you escape to the couch while sohee drinks his water. settling into your usual spot in the center cushion, you try to focus on the television instead of him to no avail.

your eyes drift to his throat. you watch his adam’s apple bob as he drinks. watch the way his hair falls over his forehead. watch the way the blonde somehow makes his eyes look even warmer.

sohee catches you staring and his grin widens immediately.

you look away first. you wonder if he’s really this happy. you wonder what makes him smile when you’re not around. you wonder why he smiles so much when he’s with you. has it always been like this? or does three weeks simply feel long enough to make you forget? the time apart feels less like three weeks and more like a year.

the last time you sat together on this couch, you barely made it through half an episode of whatever random show he’d put on before his hand was up your shirt and your tongue was in his mouth.

today, you’re determined to talk, like you used to.

sohee drops down onto the couch beside you, close enough that his leg immediately presses against yours. his hand settles on your knee, warm and familiar, and leaves it there.

you put all your concentration into choosing a movie while trying not to think about the fact that sohee’s hand is finally back on your skin.

he leans forward and you feel his breath brush the back of your neck. his chin settles against your shoulder.

“sohee…” you whine softly, nudging him away.

you click on the first movie that looks remotely watchable before finally turning your attention toward him.

“what?” he asks.

he pulls back, but only slightly.

“what’s wrong?”

his leg remains pressed against yours. his eyes shine beneath an exaggerated pout.

you still can’t believe he’s blonde, and back in your apartment. he’s blonde and sitting on your couch and looking at you like that. but he’s not yours. sohee has occupied every corner of your life for months. he’s been inside of you, and still, he isn’t yours. the realization stings every time.

you turn toward him completely and reach up to run your fingers through his hair. the strands are softer than you expected. “your roots haven’t come in yet,” you say quietly. sohee immediately brightens. “i’ve been keeping up with it.” your fingers continue combing through the pale strands. “you have?”

“you haven’t really gotten to see much of it.” he smiles. “i figured i should at least do that much for you.”

your hand stills, and so does your heart. “for me?”

something flickers in his expression. something soft. he wants you to keep touching his hair. he thinks he could stay exactly like this forever, on your couch, with your fingers in his hair.

he nods slowly. “i want to keep this color for a long time, yn.”

his words make you feel a little insane, and you can tell that they were carefully chosen. every time you try to move on, sohee hands you another sliver of hope. like water to someone dying of thirst.

he’s maintaining a difficult, expensive hair color because you once told him it would look good. he wants to stay blonde because you suggested it. your heart takes that information and runs far beyond what he’s actually said.

it imagines permanence and commitment and a future. it imagines him choosing you the same way you’ve already chosen him.

before your thoughts can spiral any further, your hands slide from his hair to his face. your thumbs brush over the moles on his cheek, the ones you’ve always loved.

sohee closes his eyes briefly. he thinks he could stay here forever, too.

then reality returns. you wonder how many other girls have played with his hair. how many have touched his face. how many have looked at him and fallen in love despite knowing better. how many text him at two in the morning. how many he would run to.

your chest tightens.

riku’s words drift back into your head:  the only way you’ll ever know is if you tell him. but you’ve already decided you can’t. so instead, you choose uncertainty. you choose darkness.

“hey.” sohee’s voice is gentle. he brings his hands over yours. “what’s wrong? let me in.”

you pull away first. your hands fall into your lap as you shift against the back cushion. drawing your knees to your chest, you rest your chin on them and look at him. his eyelashes, the slope of his nose. his messy blonde hair. you memorize him instead of answering.

sohee doesn’t know what to do when you close yourself off. he isn’t sure where he stands anymore. not after three weeks, not after the bar. not after tonight. more than anything, he doesn’t want to make the wrong move. so he waits.

“how have you been, sohee?”

he hesitates. he isn’t sure whether to tell the truth. he wants to say the right thing. he wants to make you happy. he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“i bet you’ve been good, right?” you continue. your voice is light, but only barely. “you’ve probably been busy. probably even more popular with that hair.” your lower lip juts out into a small pout. “it’s okay. i already know.”

what you really wanted was for him to say he’d been miserable. that he couldn’t sleep. that he couldn’t stop thinking about you. but that’s not how this works. you know that much.

sohee shakes his head. “i haven’t been busy.” you glance at him, confused. “a lot of…people wanted to see the blonde, sure.” he shrugs. “but it didn’t matter.” your stomach twists. “why not?” he looks down at his hands. “because they weren’t you.” his voice is quiet, almost embarrassed. “you were the one who suggested it.”

the room suddenly feels too warm. you stare at him. you aren’t sure if he understands what he’s saying. you aren’t sure if he’s trying to make you feel this way. you aren’t sure whether to be touched, angry, hopeful, or completely confused. all you know is that your face is burning. all you know is that your heart has been racing since the moment he appeared outside your door.

“why didn’t you text me?” you try to keep your voice steady. you try not to cry. sohee answers immediately. “you told me not to count on it.”

sohee doesn’t know what else he can do to make you understand him.

you stare at him. at his blonde hair and his big brown eyes staring right back at you. he looks softer tonight somehow. maybe it’s because it’s really late. maybe it’s because he’s sitting on your couch after running all the way here. maybe it’s because you missed him so much that everything about him feels overwhelming.

you want to believe that he’s been thinking about what you said ever since the last time you saw him. the possibility makes your chest feel light. thinking that sohee spent the last few weeks upset at the idea of losing you makes you want to smile.

sohee drops his gaze to his hands. “what are we doing here, yn?”

you lift your head from your knees and glance around the room as though the answer might be hidden somewhere between the couch cushions.

it’s almost two thirty in the morning. you’re sitting on your couch with sohee. he ran here because you texted him. he dyed his hair blonde because you told him he’d look good that way. and now he’s asking what the two of you are doing here.

you search desperately for the right answer. what does sohee want you to say? what does he want the two of you to be? would he be upset if you were honest? you don’t even know what honesty would sound like.

“we’re friends,” you try. your voice lifts at the end like a question.

sohee lets out a slow breath. you watch his shoulders sink. his eyes stay fixed on his hands. you have a feeling that was the wrong answer.

the problem is that sohee doesn’t know what answer he wanted, either. he only knows that he didn’t like that one. because how many friends do you have? how many friends make your chest hurt like this?

“was riku a friend, too?” he finally looks up at you, but something about him has closed off, just enough for you to notice. you have absolutely no idea what you’re doing.

“riku is my friend,” you say with a slow nod.

sohee reaches over and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear before it can fall into your face. the touch is brief and gentle. you wish it lasted longer.

“but you’re a different type of friend, sohee,” you add carefully. immediately, a little brightness returns to his eyes.

“oh yeah?” his lips curl into a grin.

you nod again. you pray he doesn’t ask you to elaborate. you wouldn’t know where to begin.

“and what kind of friend is that?”

you stare at him. sohee watches you think. watches you turn the question over and over in your head like you’re afraid of choosing the wrong answer. he hopes you don’t.

“a friend who sleeps over?” you finally offer. your voice comes out small. your eyes are impossibly wide when you look at him.

for a second, sohee just stares. he hadn’t expected that answer. it feels like you’ve thrown him a rope after weeks of drowning. he refuses to let go of it.

“you can sleep over tonight, sohee.” you nod once, as if convincing yourself. you’re not sure if you’ve made the right decision. if anything, you’re pretty sure you’ve made things worse.

“okay.” sohee smiles.

he looks soft and beautiful. his hair falls into his eyes and his cheeks are still faintly pink from the run over. you want to kiss him.

“just sleep, though,” you add quickly when he starts leaning closer. his grin widens. “just sleep.” his voice drops into a whisper. “no funny business.”

when his lips begin brushing dangerously close to yours, you force yourself to turn your head away with a nervous giggle. “y’know what i’ve been thinking about lately, sohee?”

he pulls back with a disbelieving laugh. one hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. “what’s been on your mind?”

you chew on your bottom lip. your eyes stay glued to him and his pretty pink lips, the slope of his nose, and the warmth in his eyes. his blonde hair.

“i was remembering the first time we hung out.” your hand drifts into his hair automatically. “how much fun we had.” your fingers comb through the pale strands. “you’ve always been so fun.”

sohee leans into your touch without realizing it. “we still have fun.”

you shake your head. “not like before.”

a pout immediately settles onto his face. you almost laugh. he always looks offended when you criticize him, even a little.

the truth is, sohee always has fun with you. he’s having fun right now. he’d probably have fun sitting in complete silence if it meant being next to you. but he wants to make you happy. so he plays along.

“okay,” he says. “then let’s just talk tonight.” he shifts closer, resting his arm along the back of the couch behind you. “we’ll stay up like we used to.”

you raise an eyebrow. “just talk?”

“just talk and sleep.”

the smile on his face makes it very difficult to believe him. and judging by the smile slowly spreading across yours, neither of you is convinced.

it’s technically afternoon, but you wake up exactly where you wish you could every morning.

sohee spent hours talking to you and making you laugh until the sun came up. when you dozed off in the middle of a laugh, he woke you gently and guided you through your nighttime routine. the two of you washed up for bed side by side in your bathroom like you used to, and the toothbrush of his that you’d kept for weeks was finally used again.

when it was time to sleep, sohee pulled you into his chest and tucked your head beneath his chin. sleep found both of you at the same time.

sohee wakes up first. he reaches up and pats your hair softly, taking his time looking at you. you’re so pretty. even now, with sleep still clinging to your face, you look calm. happy.

he presses a kiss to your forehead and hopes you’ll allow a friend that much. this is the best sleep he’s gotten in weeks. he isn’t sure he can sleep without you anymore.

“yn,” he sings softly, barely above a whisper. just like always.

his voice drifts into your dream so naturally that you don’t realize you’re awake. your eyes flutter open to sohee. you’ve been tired for so long that you can’t quite tell the difference between dreams and reality anymore. everything feels soft around the edges.

everything feels warm. everything feels right.

“mmmm, my sohee,” you mumble, smiling sleepily. your hands find his face immediately. his skin feels awfully warm for a dream.

sohee melts beneath your touch. he leans into your palms as your thumbs brush over his cheeks and wander into his hair. his eyes soften. a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

you don’t give him the opportunity to say anything before your lips find his.

it’s been so long since you’ve kissed sohee that kissing him in a dream feels perfectly reasonable. except this dream feels strangely real. your fingers are tangled in his hair and his lips are warm beneath yours. when you kiss him again, he kisses you back.

you’ve missed him so much. you kiss him like you might never kiss him again. for something that’s supposed to be a dream, you can feel everything, from the warmth of his mouth to the spit around your lips. when you kiss him harder, he presses your body flush against his. if you think friends can kiss, he hopes your idea of friends can do this, too. your body fits against his like it always has.

if this is a dream, you decide you don’t want to wake up yet.

eventually you pull away just enough to catch your breath. your hands drift back to his face. you brush your thumb across one of the moles on his cheek.

“i love your moles, hee,” you murmur. you lean forward and press a lingering kiss there.

“love your cute nose.” another kiss.

sohee’s heart is beating so hard he’s convinced you can hear it. he has no idea what’s happening. he doesn’t know whether you’re awake. he doesn’t know whether you know you’re awake.

he only knows that every soft confession makes him feel a little more unsteady.

your lips wander to his jaw. your fingers drift lazily over the warmth of his body. “i love…” you begin softly.

your hand slips beneath the waistband of his sweatpants.

“i love this too, but most of all…”

“yn.” his voice comes out rougher than he intends. his heart feels seconds away from bursting out of his chest.

he’s still trying to recover from your kiss, from your hands in his hair. from the way you’re looking at him. he doesn’t think you’d ever say any of this so openly if you knew exactly what was happening. and as much as he wants to hear the rest, he’s terrified of ruining whatever this is.

“good morning,” he says instead. he pulls you gently against his chest.

when your ear settles over his heartbeat, reality crashes back all at once. you remember last night on the couch and talking until sunrise. sohee ran to your apartment.

this isn’t a dream. sohee is actually here, in your bed, holding you. all you did was talk and sleep. and it was perfect.

"good morning,” you mumble. your voice is small now. “what time is it?” you make no effort to move from where you’re tucked against him. “don’t know,” he says into your hair. “didn’t want to let go of you to check.”

his heartbeat stays calm, but yours doesn’t. you think you should tell him to check. you think you should move. instead, you stay exactly where you are. it’s been so long since you’ve been held. so long since you’ve slept this well. “sohee,” you mumble against the thin fabric of his shirt. “yeah?” “i just woke up, right?”

he pauses. there’s something fragile in your voice. he already knows the answer you’re hoping for. “yeah.” you relax immediately. “okay. good.” a beat passes. “thanks.” he brushes a hand through your hair. “why do you ask?” you burrow deeper into his chest. “had a crazy dream.” your voice comes out muffled. “it felt real.”

sohee smiles into your hair. for the first time, he thinks he finally understands what this is.

eventually, the two of you climb out of bed. you brush your teeth side by side like you used to, bumping shoulders in the tiny bathroom. neither of you says much. it feels too normal, which makes it feel dangerous.

you find yourself staring at sohee’s back while he changes his shirt. at the broad slope of his shoulders. at the familiar shape of him. you look away before he catches you.

sohee wishes he didn’t have to work. he wishes he could stay here all day, in your apartment, in this strange little bubble where nobody else seems to exist, where it’s just you and him.

when he leaves, he presses a long kiss to your forehead. you look too fragile, too delicate. he almost doesn’t go.

after the door closes behind him, the apartment feels quieter than before. you return to your bed and pull the blanket over yourself. in your imagination, sohee belongs only to you. there are no other girls, uncertainty, or wondering. for twelve hours, it felt like that imaginary world had somehow become real. returning to reality hurts more than you expected.

later that day, sohee texts you. he says one of his friends is throwing a party later this week.

Sohee let out an exaggerated sigh and threw his hands in the air.

“This is why none of my interests get respected.”

Anton looked up.

“We respect your interests.”

“No, you don’t.”

“We tolerate your interests.”

“You make fun of them.”

Anton shrugged. “We lovingly make fun of them...There’s a difference.”

You couldn't help smiling.

Ever since you'd met Sohee in college, he'd somehow found a way to connect almost every conversation back to Naruto.

Someone mentioned friendship?

Naruto.

Someone ordered ramen?

Naruto.

Someone wore orange?

Naruto.

Rain?

Apparently there had been an episode with rain.

You weren’t even sure anymore.

Sohee suddenly sat up straighter, like he'd finally remembered the point of this entire conversation. "Okay, but seriously." He pointed between you and Anton. "Anime Expo is next Saturday."

Anton groaned so dramatically he nearly slid onto his back.

“There it is.”

“What?”

“The reason you’ve been talking about Naruto every single day this past week.”

“I always talk about Naruto.”

“You’ve been talking about it more.”

“That’s because it’s almost here!”

Anton slowly turned to look at you.

“Tell him no.”

You lifted your shoulders innocently.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re thinking it.”

“I am.”

Sohee leaned toward the two of you with pleading eyes.

“Come on.”

“No,” Anton answered immediately.

“You didn’t even think about it.”

“I did.”

“For how long?”

“Half a second.”

You laughed.

“I’ve never been to an anime convention,” you admitted.

Anton glared. “Traitor.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to go.”

“You’re considering it.”

“I said I’ve never been.”

Sohee immediately noticed the opening. He scooted closer on the couch, his expression turning hopeful.

"Come on."

Anton answered before you had the chance.

"No."

Sohee frowned.

"You didn't even think about it."

"I did."

"For how long?"

Anton pretended to check an invisible watch.

"...About half a second."

You laughed, making Sohee to turn and look at you again.

"So…" Sohee clasped his hands together dramatically. "You'll come?"

Anton pinched the bridge of his nose.

"This..." he muttered, "...is exactly why I'm saying no."

For the first time since the conversation had started, Sohee didn't immediately argue back.

Instead, his shoulders relaxed.

He looked down at the unopened bag of gummies in his lap, absentmindedly peeling at the corner of the packaging.

"I know you guys don't really care about anime."

His voice had lost the dramatic edge it carried only moments ago.

"I know I bring it up a lot."

Anton opened his mouth, ready with another sarcastic comment.

Then he caught the look on Sohee's face.

His mouth closed again.

“But…” Sohee rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I just thought it’d be fun if my two best friends came with me. I don’t really care if you understand Naruto. I just… wanted to spend the day together.”

The apartment went unexpectedly quiet.

You glanced toward Anton.

The second your eyes met, he sighed.

“Don’t.”

You smiled.

He pointed at you accusingly.

“I know that look.”

“What look?”

“Your people pleaser look.”

“I’m justing thinking.”

“You’re folding.”

You looked back at Sohee.

He wasn’t trying to guilt either of you. He genuinely looked hopeful. The kind of hopeful that made it difficult for you to say no.

“…Okay.”

Sohee blinked.

“What?”

“I’ll go.”

His face lit up so quickly it almost made you laugh.

“Really?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“You’ll actually come?”

“I just said yes.”

Before you could react, Sohee threw his arms around you in a hug.

“You won’t regret it.”

Anton stared at the two of you in disbelief.

“…Unbelievable.”

You laughed as Sohee finally let go.

“What?”

“He always gets you.”

“What?”

“He could ask you to help him move a couch up fifteen flights of stairs and you’d somehow end up saying yes.”

“I would not.”

“You absolutely would.”

“I’d complain.”

“But you’d still do it.”

You thought about it. “…Probably.”

Anton threw his head back dramatically.

“I can’t believe this.”

“You know… you don't have to come," you teased.

He looked horrified.

“And leave you two alone?”

“So?”

“You’d come home speaking exclusively in anime references.”

“I would not.”

“You’d start saying ‘believe it.’”

Sohee gasped, “See? He knows one.”

“I hate that I know one.”

You laughed “So… are you coming?”

Anton stared at the ceiling for several long seconds before groaning.

“…Fine.”

Sohee actually cheered.

“But,” Anton continued, pointing a finger at him, “if you try to get me to watch the show, I’m leaving.”

“No promises.”

.✦ ݁˖.✦ ݁˖.✦ ݁˖

The morning of the convention started with a lie. Specifically, the lie you told Sohee over text.

Y/N: Anton and I are almost there. Just wear whatever. Don’t worry about us.

Sohee immediately replied.

Sohee: You guys aren’t dressing up?

Y/N: Nope.

Sohee: lame.

You smiled as you locked your phone.

Anton glanced over from the driver’s seat.

“He bought it?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.”

You looked down at your outfit for what felt like the tenth time. Red dress, black gloves, green contact lenses. The wig had taken far longer to style than either of you wanted to admit.

Beside you, Anton looked equally ridiculous.

Or rather…

Ridiculously accurate.

His dark wig framed his face almost perfectly, and the blue-and-white outfit fit him so well that you could already imagine Sohee’s reaction.

Anton caught you staring.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“I just can’t believe you agreed to this.”

He sighed.

“I still can’t believe it either.”

“You look good.”

You laughed.

“He’s going to lose his mind.”

“That’s the point.”

A few minutes later, Anton pulled into the parking lot outside Sohee’s apartment. Sohee stepped outside carrying an orange jacket. He looked every bit the Naruto fan he’d always claimed to be.

He waved happily before opening the back door.

“I hope you gu—”

The rest of the sentence disappeared.

His eyes became impossibly wide.

“…”

“…”

“…WHAT?”

You burst into laughter.

Anton smirked.

“I thought you said you weren’t dressing up!” Sohee practically shouted.

“We lied.”

“I CAN SEE THAT!”

He looked between the two of you so quickly you were worried he might actually give himself whiplash.

“Sasuke?”

Anton shrugged.

Then Sohee looked at you.

“…Sakura?”

You smiled.

“You talk about Naruto enough that I at least know who she is.”

For a second, he just stared.

Then an enormous grin spread across his face.

“You guys actually did this.”

“We did.”

“For me?”

You nodded.

“You said you wanted your best friends there.”

His smile softened.

“…Thanks.”

There was something so genuine in his expression that your chest tightened. He looked happier than you’d seen him in a long time.

“Okay,” he said, climbing into the back seat. “This is officially the best day ever.”

Anton pulled away from the curb.

“We haven’t even gotten there.”

“I know.”

“So lower your expectations.”

“They’re getting higher.”

By the time you arrived at the convention center, Sohee was practically vibrating with excitement.

The lobby was packed with colorful costumes, oversized props, photographers, artists selling prints, and groups laughing together as they hurried toward different panels.

Every few feet someone recognized Sohee’s Naruto cosplay.

He returned every greeting with the biggest smile.

Watching him excitedly point out different costumes, explain references without expecting either you or Anton to understand them, and enthusiastically wave at strangers somehow made the whole experience…cute.

You found yourself smiling more than you expected.

“You look happy,” Anton said quietly.

“I think it’s because he is.”

Ahead of you, Sohee had stopped to excitedly compliment another Naruto cosplayer.

He looked completely in his element.

“…He’s kind of cute when he’s excited.”

Anton looked at you sideways.

“What?”

“Huh?”

“You called him cute.”

“I said he looks cute.”

“That’s different?”

“Very.”

“Mhm.”

Before you could defend yourself, a girl wearing an Akatsuki cloak hurried over.

“Oh my gosh!”

She looked between you and Anton.

“Your Sakura and Sasuke cosplay is amazing!”

“Thank you,” you replied.

She immediately clasped her hands together.

“You guys look so good together!”

You blinked.

“Oh—”

“We’re not—”

Before either of you could finish, she had already snapped a picture.

“Couple goals!”

Then she disappeared into the crowd.

Anton slowly looked at you.

“…That was weird.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you noticed Sohee standing just behind you.

His smile had faded. It wasn’t a big deal...Just one person.

Except it wasn’t.

An hour later another group stopped you.

“Sakura! Sasuke! Can we get a picture?”

“Sure.”

Someone behind the camera laughed.

“You guys seriously committed to the couple cosplay.”

“We’re not actually—”

“They even have the chemistry!”

“Oh my God,” Anton muttered.

You laughed awkwardly.

“No, we’re just friends.”

The group nodded politely.

“…Sure.”

They clearly didn’t believe you.

As they walked away, one of them whispered loudly enough for all three of you to hear.

“They’re definitely dating.”

“They’re trying to hide it.”

“I love when couples cosplay.”

You looked over your shoulder helplessly.

Anton looked equally uncomfortable.

“It must be the costumes.”

“Yeah.”

Behind the two of you, Sohee forced out a laugh.

“…Yeah.”

As the day went on, it only got worse.

People insisted you and Anton recreate romantic poses from fan art.

One photographer actually directed Anton to put his hand around your waist before either of you immediately stepped apart.

“No thanks.”

The photographer frowned.

“But it’ll look more authentic.”

“We’re good.”

Some comments were harmless.

Others made you want to disappear.

“They’re literally the real Sasuke and Sakura.”

“I swear they have the same vibe.”

“Do you think they’re dating in real life?”

“I hope so.”

“So cute.”

“They probably met through Naruto.”

“They look perfect together.”

Each comment landed a little harder than the last.

Not because you cared what strangers thought.

But because every single time someone said it…

You caught Sohee growing quieter.

At first, he’d laughed along.

Then he’d stopped talking as much.

Then he started hanging a few steps behind the two of you.

Whenever someone asked for another picture of “the couple,” he’d simply wait off to the side.

You noticed it when he stopped pointing out booths.

Stopped rambling about voice actors.

Stopped bouncing excitedly from table to table.

Instead, he watched.

Watched strangers smile at you and Anton.

Watched photographers position the two of you together.

He shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets.

“…I’m gonna go look at that booth over there.”

You turned toward him.

“We can all go.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

His smile was small.

“I’ll catch up.”

Before either of you could stop him, he disappeared into the crowd.

Anton watched him leave.

“…He’s being weird.”

You frowned.

“…Yeah.”

You looked toward the direction he walked in, a strange feeling settling in your chest. Something was wrong.

And somehow…

You had the feeling it had nothing to do with the convention at all.

You waited another minute, expecting Sohee to wander back with an armful of merchandise or excitedly waving you over to something he had found.

He didn’t.

Anton glanced around the crowded aisle before shrugging.

“He’ll find us. He knows we’re probably going to circle back here.”

You nodded, though the uneasy feeling hadn’t quite gone away.

“…Yeah.”

Trying to shake it off, the two of you wandered farther down the artist alley. Every table was covered with colorful prints, stickers, keychains, and handmade charms. Artists called out to passing guests while cosplayers stopped every few feet to admire different displays.

You slowed in front of one booth filled with watercolor-style Naruto prints.

The artist looked up from arranging a stack of postcards and immediately smiled.

“Oh my gosh.”

She pointed between the two of you.

“You two look so much like Sakura and Sasuke!”

You smiled politely.

“Thank you.”

“I’ve seen a lot of them today, but you two are definitely one of my favorite pairs.”

Anton laughed awkwardly.

“Thanks.”

The artist picked up one of her prints.

“I actually have one of Sasuke and Sakura together if you guys want to see it.”

“Oh,” you said quickly. “We’re okay.”

She tilted her head.

“Really? Most couples love buying matching prints.”

Anton let out a tired sigh.

“There it is again.”

The artist blinked.

“What?”

You couldn’t help laughing.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why does literally everyone today think we’re dating?”

The artist stared at you.

“…What?”

“I swear this is like the fifteenth time.”

“We’ve had people ask us to pose together, tell us we have chemistry, call us couple goals…” You gestured helplessly toward Anton. “He’s basically my brother.”

“And she’s basically my sister,” Anton added.

“We’re just here because our friend begged us to come.”

The artist looked between the two of you with genuine confusion.

“…Didn’t you watch the anime?”

You shook your head.

“No.”

“Neither of us has.”

She blinked again.

“…Then why are you dressed as Sakura and Sasuke?”

You smiled sheepishly.

“Our best friend is obsessed with Naruto.”

“Like…” Anton paused, trying to think of the right word. “…Concerningly obsessed.”

You elbowed him.

“It’s not concerning.”

“He has spent years trying to convince us to watch it.”

“So we thought it’d be fun to surprise him.”

“We knew he was definitely dressing as Naruto,” Anton explained, “so we figured we’d dress as other characters he’d recognize.”

The artist covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.

“Oh…”

“What?” you asked.

“Oh no.”

“What?”

She laughed a little harder.

“You guys accidentally picked the worst possible combination if you are like siblings.”

Anton frowned.

“…Why?”

She held up the print she had been reaching for earlier.

On it, Sasuke stood beside Sakura beneath falling cherry blossoms.

“You two keep getting mistaken for a couple because…” She smiled apologetically. “These two get married.”

Silence.

You and Anton slowly turned to look at one another.

“…Seriously?” Anton asked.

The artist nodded.

“They end up together. They’re one of the biggest couples in the series.”

You buried your face in your hands.

“Oh my God.”

Anton groaned loud enough that the people walking by glanced over.

“That explains literally everything.”

Anton rubbed a hand over his face.

“I’ve been accidentally roleplaying a husband all day.”

The artist laughed.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No,” you admitted, laughing despite yourself. “Honestly that makes way more sense.”

“I thought everyone at anime conventions was just… really invested in a random ship.”

“They are,” she said with a grin. “But in this case, there was an actual reason.”

You thanked her before starting to walk away, both of you still processing the revelation.

“So that’s why Sohee kept looking weird,” Anton muttered quietly.

“Hm?”

“He probably knows.”

You frowned.

“…Oh.”

The realization settled uncomfortably in your stomach.

Of course he knew.

He’d watched the entire series.

He’d probably known from the second he saw your costumes exactly what everyone else was going to assume.

You wondered why he hadn’t said anything.

Maybe he hadn’t thought it would happen this much.

Maybe…

You stopped walking.

“…Wait.”

Anton looked back.

“What?”

“I’ll be right back.”

You hurried back to the booth where the artist was reorganizing a stack of prints.

She smiled when she saw you again.

“Forgot something?”

You shifted your weight awkwardly.

“…Can I ask one more question?”

“Of course.”

You lowered your voice, suddenly feeling strangely embarrassed.

“So…”

“Yeah?”

“…Who does Naruto end up with?”

The artist looked at you for a second.

Then a slow smile spread across her face.

“Oh.”

She had clearly put the pieces together.

“You came with a Naruto cosplayer, didn’t you?”

You blinked.

“…Yeah.”

“The really enthusiastic blonde one?”

You smiled.

“That’s him.”

The artist laughed softly to herself.

“I was wondering where that Naruto had gone.”

You looked at her eagerly.

“So… who does he end up with?”

Instead of answering immediately, the artist rested her chin in her hand.

“…Can I ask why you’re asking?”

Your cheeks warmed.

“I was just curious.”

“Mhm.”

“I was.”

She gave you a knowingly amused look that made you immediately regret coming back.

“I’m only asking because you didn’t seem interested in the series five minutes ago.”

“I wasn’t.”

“And now you specifically want to know who Naruto marries.”

“…”

“…”

“I…” You looked down at your shoes with a sheepish smile. “…I don’t know. I guess I’m just curious now.”

The artist chuckled.

“I’ll tell you.”

She leaned forward slightly.

“Naruto ends up marrying Hinata.”

You repeated the unfamiliar name quietly to yourself.

“…Hinata.”

“Mhm.”

“The shy girl who’s been in love with him for years.”

You nodded slowly, committing the name to memory without really understanding why.

“Thanks.”

You watched Anton disappear into another aisle, already distracted by a booth selling video game figures.

Shaking your head, you turned and headed back into the sea of people.

Finding Sohee wasn’t as easy as you’d expected.

The convention center seemed even busier than before, every hallway packed with colorful wigs, oversized props, and people stopping every few feet for photos. You checked the ramen booth first.

Nothing.

Then the Naruto merchandise tables.

Nothing.

The panel room.

Still nothing.

For a brief second, you wondered if he had gone outside for some air.

Then, tucked into a quieter hallway near the windows overlooking the parking lot, you spotted the familiar flash of bright orange.

He was sitting alone on one of the benches.

His elbows rested on his knees as he lazily scrolled through his phone, occasionally glancing up whenever people walked past before immediately looking back down again.

It struck you almost immediately.

This wasn’t how Sohee acted at conventions.

Not from what you’d seen today. He should’ve been bouncing between booths. Dragging you toward another artist. Excitedly explaining references you didn’t understand.

Instead, he looked… bored. Or maybe distracted.

You slowed your steps. He still hadn’t noticed you. A smile tugged at your lips as an idea came to mind.

Changing your voice just enough to sound a little more formal, you walked over until you were standing in front of him.

“Excuse me…”

Without looking up, Sohee answered automatically.

“Yeah?”

“I absolutely love your Naruto cosplay.”

He finally glanced up.

“Oh, thank—”

His sentence stopped.

A slow smile spread across his face.

“…Really?”

You tilted your head innocently.

“I was wondering if I could get a picture with you.”

He stared at you for another second before letting out a quiet laugh through his nose.

“…You’re so annoying.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You changed your voice.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

“I think you’re confusing me with someone else.”

“Mhm.”

“You gonna take the picture or not?”

He rolled his eyes, though the small smile lingering on his face told you he’d already given in.

“Fine.”

You held your phone out. He stood beside you as you flipped the camera around. You smiled brightly at the screen.

Click.

You looked down at the photo.

“Sohee.”

“What?”

“That’s just your normal smile.”

“…Yeah?”

“I asked for a picture with Naruto.”

He blinked.

“I need Naruto.”

He stared at you for a moment before groaning.

“…Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“You’ve never even watched the show.”

“I know.”

“So how do you know Naruto has poses?”

“I’ve known you long enough.”

He laughed, shaking his head.

“I created a monster.”

“So?”

“So this is embarrassing.”

“It’s only embarrassing if you don’t commit to it.”

He looked around dramatically.

“There are people watching.”

“There are people dressed as animals.”

“…Fair point.”

You grinned.

“So?”

With another dramatic sigh, Sohee reluctantly tucked his phone into his pocket.

“Fine.”

He planted one foot forward, crossed his fingers into a hand sign, narrowed his eyes dramatically, and struck an exaggerated fighting stance.

You immediately burst into laughter.

“Oh my gosh.”

“What?”

“You actually did it.”

“You told me to.”

“I wasn’t expecting that much commitment.”

“I’m Naruto.”

“You are.”

You snapped another picture.

“One more.”

He switched into another pose, throwing his arm behind him exactly like he was about to sprint.

You laughed so hard your picture came out blurry.

“Sohee!”

“What?”

“You look ridiculous.”

“I look accurate.”

“I’ll give you that.”

One last time, he held up two fingers in another ninja hand sign while making the most serious expression he could manage.

Click.

“There.”

You lowered your phone.

“Perfect.”

He leaned over your shoulder to look through the pictures.

“…Okay.”

“What?”

“These are actually kind of good.”

“I know.”

He nudged your shoulder lightly before sitting back down on the bench. For the first time in almost an hour, he looked a little more like himself. The silence between you settled comfortably. People continued walking past.

Someone recognized his cosplay and waved. He smiled politely and waved back before looking out across the convention floor.

You hesitated.

“…You should’ve told me.”

He glanced over.

“Told you what?”

“That Anton and I were basically wearing a couple’s costume.”

His expression changed almost too quickly to catch.

It was only for a second.

Then he looked away again.

“…It wasn’t a big deal.”

“It kind of was.”

He shrugged.

“I figured maybe one or two people would say something.”

You gave him a look.

“One or two?”

“…Maybe more.”

“Sohee.”

“What?”

“You knew.”

“I knew they ended up together.”

“And you didn’t think to mention that?”

“I didn’t think it’d matter.”

You stared at him.

“It definitely mattered.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“…Yeah.”

You bumped your shoulder against his.

“I would’ve picked someone else if you’d told me.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know I didn’t.”

You looked down at the photos you’d just taken together before smiling to yourself.

“But I would’ve.”

He stayed quiet.

“I mean…” You shrugged casually. “There are a million Naruto characters, right?”

“So many.”

“I could’ve picked literally anyone else.”

You looked over at him.

“…Actually.”

“What?”

“An artist told me who Naruto ends up with.”

He blinked.

“…She did?”

“Mhm.”

“Why did you asked?”

“I was curious.”

A grin slowly spread across his face.

“Oh?”

You ignored the teasing in his voice.

“So…” You tried to sound casual, even though you suddenly felt oddly shy saying it out loud. “Next time we come…”

His eyebrows lifted.

“…Next time?”

You nodded.

“Well, yeah.”

A smile escaped before you could stop it.

“I’ll have to dress up as Hinata instead.”

For a moment, Sohee simply stared at you.

He didn’t laugh.

He didn’t tease you.

He just looked at you as though you’d said something he hadn’t been prepared to hear.

“…Hinata?” he repeated quietly.

His lips parted slightly.

Then, despite himself, the biggest smile you’d seen all afternoon slowly spread across his face.

“…Yeah,” he said, his voice softer than before. “I think… you’d make a really good Hinata.”

Something about the way he said it made your face feel unexpectedly warm.

You quickly looked back down at your phone.

“…Good.”

For a while, neither of you spoke.

The convention buzzed around you with the constant noise of conversations, laughter, and camera shutters, but somehow the little bench near the windows felt strangely quiet.

Sohee kept looking at you.

Not obviously.

Just… every few seconds.

As though he wanted to say something but kept changing his mind.

Finally, he let out a slow breath.

“…Can I ask you something?”

You looked over.

“You just did.”

He laughed quietly.

“I mean… a real question.”

That caught your attention.

“Go ahead.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly finding the floor much more interesting than your face.

“You said…”

He paused.

“…You said if you’d known, you would’ve picked someone besides Sakura.”

“Mhm.”

“And then…”

Another pause.

“You said next time you’d dress as Hinata.”

You smiled.

“I did.”

He nodded slowly.

“…Would you rather?”

“Hm?”

He looked up at you.

His smile was still there, but he was nervous now.

“…Would you rather end up with Naruto?”

You blinked.

For a second, you didn’t understand.

Then his ears slowly turned pink.

His eyes darted away.

“I don’t…” He laughed awkwardly. “I don’t actually mean Naruto.”

You stared at him.

“I mean…”

He swallowed.

“I mean me.”

The words hung between you.

“I know it’s probably stupid to ask.”

His fingers fidgeted with the sleeve of his jacket.

“And maybe today just got to me because everyone kept pairing you with Anton…”

He laughed again, but this one sounded almost embarrassed.

“I kept telling myself it shouldn’t bother me.”

His shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug.

“But every time someone called you two a couple…”

He shook his head.

“…It did.”

Your heart skipped.

“I know Anton’s basically your brother.”

“I know you weren’t actually dressed up together because of that.”

“I know all of that.”

His voice grew quieter.

“But I still got jealous.”

He looked down at the floor.

“…I’ve liked you for a long time. So seeing everyone act like you belonged with someone else…”

He smiled to himself, almost sadly.

“…It kind of sucked.”

You stared at him.

All the little moments over the past year suddenly clicked into place.

The way he’d always sat beside you.

The way he’d somehow remembered every tiny thing you mentioned.

The way he’d looked so excited this morning when he’d seen you in costume.

The way he’d gone quiet after everyone started calling you and Anton a couple.

It hadn’t been because of the cosplay.

It had been because of you.

“So…” he said softly, finally looking back at you.

“If we’re talking about Naruto…”

A nervous smile appeared.

“…Would you rather end up with him?”

His eyes searched yours.

“…Well um—I mean”

He took one last shaky breath.

“…Would you rather end up with me?”

You didn’t answer.

Not with words.

Instead, you reached over, gently took hold of the front of his orange jacket, and leaned in.

Your lips met his.

The kiss was soft.

Brief.

Almost hesitant.

As though both of you were making sure it was okay.

When you pulled away, Sohee simply stared.

His eyes were wide.

“…Oh.”

You laughed nervously.

“…Was that clear enough?”

For another second, he remained completely frozen.

Then the biggest smile you’d ever seen spread across his face.

“…Yeah.”

He laughed under his breath.

“I think that answered my question.”

You couldn’t stop smiling either.

Without thinking, he reached for your hand. His fingers intertwined with yours naturally, like they’d always belonged there.

Neither of you noticed the silence around you until someone nearby whispered loudly,

“Oh my gosh…”

Another person nudged their friend.

“Naruto and Sakura just kissed.”

A camera shutter clicked.

Then another.

You both looked over at the same time.

Three different people were openly smiling at the two of you.

One girl clasped her hands together.

“I knew it!”

Another pointed excitedly.

“They’re doing the alternate universe ship!”

Your face immediately burned.

“Oh no…”

Sohee covered his face with one hand.

“…We’re the weird convention couple now.”

“I think we are.”

“I’ve become the people I make fun of online.”

You laughed.

“I’m never recovering from this.”

Before either of you could escape, a familiar voice called from behind.

“There you guys are.”

You turned.

Anton stood a few feet away holding an enormous shopping bag, looking between your intertwined hands and the guilty expressions on both of your faces.

He raised one eyebrow.

“…Wow.”

Neither of you spoke.

Anton looked at you.

Then at Sohee.

Then back at you again.

“…My own wife.”

You immediately groaned.

“Anton.”

He placed a dramatic hand over his chest.

“My own wife cheating on me with my best friend.”

“We’re not—”

“I trusted you.”

“We were never—”

“I wore the ring and everything.”

You stared at his completely empty hands.

“…You don’t have a ring.”

“Emotionally, I do.”

Sohee burst out laughing beside you.

Anton pointed at him dramatically.

“And you.”

Sohee tried to compose himself.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m really not.”

“I bring you into my fake marriage, and this is how you repay me?”

“I appreciate your sacrifice.”

Anton sighed dramatically.

“I always knew it’d end like this.”

People walking by chuckled after overhearing the conversation.

You hid your face in your hands.

“I hate both of you.”

“No, you don’t,” Anton said.

“No…”

You looked over at Sohee.

“…I really don’t.”

Sohee’s smile softened.

As Anton wandered ahead, still muttering dramatically about divorce settlements and who got custody of the imaginary dog, Sohee leaned closer until only you could hear him.

“…Hey.”

“Hm?”

His ears were pink again.

“So…”

He glanced down at your joined hands before looking back at you.

“…Later…”

“Yeah?”

He smiled shyly.

“…Can we kiss when we’re not pretending to be Naruto characters?”

You felt your face grow warm all over again.

You squeezed his hand.

“…I’d like that.”

His grin somehow grew even wider.

“…Good.”

This time, when the three of you continued through the convention together, Sohee walked beside you again.

And he didn’t trail behind even once.

Sohee’s apartment had a special kind of quiet on his days off. A really comfortable, lazy stillness. Rihanna’s “Love on the Brain” was playing softly from the Bluetooth speaker on his nightstand, the bass blending with the hum of the fridge and the muffled traffic from the streets of Seoul outside.

You were sitting cross-legged on the edge of his bed, mindlessly scrolling through your phone while waiting for him to finish getting ready. Going out with Sohee always took a minute. It wasn’t that he was high maintenance, he just really cared about his clothes. Fashion was his thing—a small hobby he kept up between dance practices and vocal training.

“Are you almost done?” you called out over, leaning back against the pillows. “If we wait any longer, the tteokbokki place is gonna have a line out the door.”

Sohee finally wandered out of his walk-in closet. He had on a plain black t-shirt hanging loose off his frame and a pair of perfectly faded, baggy denim jeans pooling over his sneakers. He was messing with the brim of a brown vintage cap, pulling it down just enough to hide his messy morning hair—the exact hair that got him his hedgehog emoji from the guys. He didn’t look like he tried hard at all, but the proportions of his fit were flawless. He just has that effortless, understated charisma he carried so naturally.

“Patience,” he teased. He walked over and nudged your leg with his knee. “You can’t rush art.”

You rolled your eyes, sitting up to check out his outfit. “Art? It’s a black shirt and jeans, Hee.” Teasing, knowing he looked good regardless.

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head like he was disappointed in you. “It’s about the silhouette. The fit. The vibe.” He paused, his dark eyes scanning what you were wearing. You had on a vintage oversized graphic tee and some comfortable, wide-leg sweatpants. It was your go-to lazy, day off look.

A small, mischievous smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Sohee, the one who was comfortable enough to be a little bratty in the most endearing way possible.

“You’re not just wearing that, are you?” he asked, crossing his arms.

You looked down at your clothes, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with this? It’s comfortable. We’re literally just going to get spicy rice cakes and snacks from the convenience store.”

“Nothing’s wrong with it,” Sohee said, stepping closer and grabbing your hands to pull you up off the bed. “You always look good. But we can make it better. Come here.”

He dragged you into his closet, which was surprisingly organized for a guy who claimed to be so laid-back. Racks of plain tees, vintage denim, and a crazy collection of caps lined the walls.

“Sohee, I don’t need to dress up—“

“Who said anything about dressing up?” he cut in, digging through a section of jackets. “I just think if we’re going out together, we should look like we belong together.”

You leaned against the doorframe, watching him work. Sohee had this secret, undeniable weakness for coordinated outfits.

He pulled out a faded, oversized grey zip up jacket that looked suspiciously like the one he wore a few days ago and tossed it to you. “Put that on.”

You caught it, slipping it over your graphic tee. It was heavy and perfectly worn-in. “Isn’t it a bit warm for this?”

“It’s fall. The weather’s perfect,” he reasoned, turning back to his racks. He pulled out a grey zip-up hoodie, leaving it unzipped over his black t-shirt to match the relaxed, layered look you had going on now.

You watched, amused, as he adjusted the hood so it sat casually over his collar. Then he grabbed a navy blue beanie off a shelf and tossed it right at your head. It landed smack on your face.

“Hey!” you laughed, pulling the beanie off and glaring at him.

“Put it on,” he instructed, a smug grin spreading across his face. “Trust the vision.”

You sighed, pulling the navy beanie on and fixing it in the full-length mirror. The jacket smelled like him—clean laundry detergent and crisp autumn air.

Sohee stepped up behind you, his reflection joining yours in the glass. He had his navy cap, the grey hoodie, and his baggy jeans. You had the grey jacket over your vintage tee, your wide-leg sweats, and the navy beanie.

Sohee closed the gap between you, resting his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arms securely around your waist. You could feel the solid warmth of his chest pressed against your back, the silver rings on his fingers cool against the fabric of your jacket. He looked at your reflection, a satisfied hum vibrating deep in his chest.

“See?” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of your neck. It sent a sudden, pleasant shiver down your spine.

You couldn’t help but smile, leaning back into his solid frame. “You just wanted us to match.”

“Maybe,” he conceded. He turned his head slightly, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your temple that lingered just a second longer than necessary. “But you gotta admit, we look good.”

He didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, he just stood there for a minute, watching the two of you in the mirror. The teasing edge in his voice faded into something more settled. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone, and opened the camera app.

“What are you doing?” you asked, watching him frame the shot in the mirror.

“Documenting the vision,” he said simply. He shifted his grip on your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer so your sides were pressed flush together. He snapped a quick photo, just the two of you, faces half-hidden by the brims of your hats.

He didn’t post it. He couldn’t, obviously. But as you watched him set it as his lock screen wallpaper before slipping the phone back into his pocket, you understood.

He reached up, his fingers gently brushing your forehead as he adjusted the navy beanie one last time. His thumb traced the line of your jaw, and then he tilted your chin up.

His lips pressed against yours like he had all the time in the world, one hand still cradling your jaw while the other rested on your hip. You could feel him smile into it. That quiet, self-satisfied grin he always got when things went exactly the way he wanted.

“What was that for?” you asked with a small giggle.

The look in his eyes were so warm it made your chest ache in the best way. “Nothing. You just look really good in my clothes.”

You laughed, shoving his shoulder lightly. He caught your hand before it dropped, pressing a quick kiss to your knuckles before stepping back and grabbing his wallet off the dresser. “Alright,” he said, the easygoing smirk returning. “Let’s go eat before you start complaining about being hungry again.”

He grabbed your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours naturally, his thumb stroking the back of your knuckles. As you walked out of his place and into the crisp autumn air, you caught a glimpse of the two of you in the elevator mirrors.

He glanced at your reflection, then back at you, and squeezed your hand a little tighter.

“Same time next week?” he asked, like this was a standing appointment. Like coordinating outfits with you was something he penciled into his schedule between rehearsals and recordings.

You looked up at him—this boy with his cap pulled low and his hoodie zipped halfway and his whole heart quietly stitched into the way he loved you.

“Yeah,” you said. “Same time next week.”

“But whyyyyy,” you whined, scooting closer on the couch and giving him that look—head tilted, lower lip pouting, eyelashes fluttering. “I just wanna see how it looks on you!”

“I’m not your practice doll,” he grumbled, though he didn’t budge when you climbed into his lap. “Baby—seriously—no.”

You propped your chin on his shoulder, voice soft and pleading. “Please? Just once? I got all this new makeup and you have such a pretty face.”

His ears turned pink. “That’s not—” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s not going to work on me.”

“It is,” you said sweetly. “Because you love me.”

He tried to hold your gaze like he wasn’t melting inside, but after a beat of silence, he finally slumped back against the cushions, defeated. “…Fine. But only because you’re cute.”

“Yay!” you squealed, hugging him tight. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

“Please don’t tell the guys,” he muttered under his breath as you dug out your brushes.

You sat on his thighs and carefully started with a little concealer on the tip of your finger. Eunseok kept trying to look away, but every time you cupped his cheek to turn his face back, he went bright red.

“You’re not even letting me see,” you complained, dabbing under his eyes.

“Because you’re staring at me like you’re about to eat me,” he grumbled, eyes flicking up to glare at you—but you could tell he was fighting a smile.

When you finally picked up the little peach blush, he actually groaned. “Baby, no. Please. Not that one.”

“It’s going to look so cute, I promise.”

“No. I—”

“Love.”

“…Fine.”

You gently swept it over his cheekbones, trying not to giggle at how his expression pinched in pure embarrassment.

“You look like a little fairy,” you teased, tapping his nose with the brush.

“Stop,” he whined, voice muffled as he covered his face with both hands. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“And you secretly love it,” you teased, prying his fingers away. “Look at you, blushing and everything.”

When you picked up your lip tint, he looked like he was about to jump out the window.

“Absolutely not.”

“Seok.”

“No.”

“Eunseok,” you repeated, leaning closer so your lips almost brushed his. “Please, baby?”

He swallowed hard, jaw flexing. “…Just this once.”

You pressed the tiniest bit of coral gloss onto his lips with your finger, then sat back to admire your work, heart squeezing because he looked so endearingly shy.

“Can I take a picture?” you asked in a hushed voice, feeling a little shy yourself.

“…You already know the answer.”

“Okay, I won’t.” You set down the lip tint and smoothed a hand through his hair, your voice softening. “You really do look handsome, though.”

He finally opened his eyes to look at you—and the way he softened, the way his shoulders relaxed, made your chest feel too small for your heart.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he murmured.

“You do,” you whispered back, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I love you too.”

He pulled you closer, big hands splayed over your back, letting you nuzzle into his neck.

“…Are we done now?” he asked, sounding exhausted.

“One more thing!” You grabbed a tiny hello kitty hair clip and clipped it to his hair.

He just sighed—long-suffering, resigned, but with a tiny smile playing on his lips.

“Cute,” you said, giggling as you traced the flush on his cheek. “My pretty boy.”

And even though he groaned and tried to hide behind his hands again, he didn’t push you away.

Because no matter how much he grumbled—he’d let you do anything, as long as it made you happy.