The keys were supposed to be left in the flower pot next to the door. Except you’ve been digging through the dirt for about ten minutes now and there wasn’t as much as a trace of the small piece of metal. Confused, you check your phone once more, re-reading the message sent to you by the airbnb owner. This had to be the right pot, where else could they possibly have put it?

Frustrated and tired, you glance back toward your car. You had come such a long way for this, finding the most beautifully located residence, just by the ocean — excited to spend a couple of nights alone and away from the hectic life you lived. And now you were going to be sleeping in your car? Just because the owner had misplaced something as vital as the keys. 

This was such bullshit. Rubbing the back of your head, your finger hovered above the call button in a last attempt at getting through and at least getting your money back. But before you can actually make the call — the front door swings open. 

Startled, you stumble backward, a surprised yelp getting caught in your throat. Your eyes immediately fall on the broad and — naked, chest in front of you. Skin damp and glistening with remnants of water, a towel hung low on his hips accentuating a sharp v line that undoubtedly lead to something you could only—

“Ahem”, the man clears his throat, causing your attention to snap back up to meet his gaze. His dark hair is still wet and it was obvious that he had just stepped out of the shower, which meant you had just interrupted him with all your cursing and shuffling about on the front porch of his house. 

Wait, what? 

His house? No, this was your house, you were renting it. Then why the hell was there a stranger currently residing in it? The key, he must have it. 

“Can I help you?” He asks, the thick brows on his forehead furrowed into a confused frown. You blink once, then twice — “Uh, yeah. I’m renting this place.” Straightening back up, you try to appear somewhat bigger, which proved futile against his much taller frame. 

The man scoffs, his hand gripping the doorframe as he shakes his head. “I think you have the wrong house, I’m renting this place", he says flatly. 

No, that couldn’t be. You had double checked the dates before getting in the car this morning, then a third time when you stopped for gas. There was no way you were mistaken. You glance to the left, the house number was correct too. This was your place. “Are you sure you’re not in the wrong house?” You ask, folding your arms across your chest as you send him a challenging look. 

The man huffs, but doesn’t appear angry with you — merely amused. “Does it look like I’m in the wrong house?” He wonders as he motions toward his barely dressed body, making you audibly swallow as your gaze drifted lower against your will. 

“You have to be, I’ve rented it from today and until the end of the week”, you state as you fish out your phone to bring forward the booking details. He leans forward, the fresh scent of shampoo filling your nostrils as he peers at your screen — the frown on his face deepening tenfold. “I have it rented until this Thursday”, he mutters, the confusion evident in his voice.

“So what? They double booked us?” Dragging a hand down your face, you stifle a groan. “Fuck, I paid for this shit – do you have any idea how long I’ve been in the car today?” 

The man’s lip twitches at your words. He nods toward the silver BMW parked just in front of your own, “I have a rough idea.” 

Feeling slightly flustered at his obvious remark, you avert your gaze as you clear your throat. Right, of course. Well seems like that was your vacation then. With a defeated sigh your attention returns to the phone in your hand. — “What are you doing?” The man asks, not-so-subtly leaning forward to peek at the screen. 

“I’m looking for a hotel”, you murmur, unable to hide the frustration and exhaustion in your tone as your fingers scroll through the cheapest alternatives. 

“Don’t”, he suddenly says, and you freeze when his large hand wraps around your wrist. Perplexed, you gaze up at him. He wears an almost sheepish expression, quickly releasing his grip on you whilst clearing his throat. “I mean, you’ve already paid for it — it’s only fair you get to stay.” 

“As long as you feel comfortable sharing the space with me that is”, he then quickly adds — a faint hint of a blush creeping onto his smooth cheeks. “Really?” You ask, “That’d be okay with you?” 

The man nods, giving you a small smile as he steps to the side to allow you inside. “I’ll just uh, go put some clothes on”, he shyly murmurs — as if suddenly remembering that he’d opened the door in nothing but a towel. 

Grateful for his offer, you reach for your bag, swinging it over your shoulder. When passing him in the cramped doorway you try your hardest to ignore the way your arm practically brushes against the expanse of his naked chest — pushing down the flutters that arose in your stomach. The door clicks shut behind you, the sound of the lock twisting in place echoing throughout the hallway. 

It was then you realized that you had just agreed to share an airbnb with a complete stranger. 

The man, who you learned was named Soobin, turned out to be a decent guy. It was a little awkward in the beginning, given your tense first interactions with one another. But that quickly subsided and gave way to fun and light hearted conversation. The two of you cooked dinner together, splitting the wine bottle you’d initially brought for yourself. Even then, you came to the conclusion that things were always better shared in good company. 

You find out that Soobin works for a tech company and that he, too, was away on a little getaway vacation. You also learned, much to your contempt, that he was single. Not that it should matter because you probably would never see each other again as soon as this trip came to an end, but it still filled your chest with a sliver of hope. 

As the evening hours passed by in a blur, the sun set outside of your window — and the atmosphere suddenly shifted. Sprawled on each end of the couch, knees almost brushing against one another, the previous laughter slowly simmered down. Up until now the air had been filled with jokes and shared stories of your past. But as the late hour drew in closer, another, more demanding matter called for both of your attention. 

“I can take the couch”, Soobin says. His voice breaks the momentary silence and you turn to look at him. “No, I couldn’t let you do that”, you say whilst shaking your head, “You were here first, all your stuff is in there — I don’t want to mess with anything.” 

Soobin’s tongue prods against the inside of his cheek as he remains silent. There’s a slight flush to his face, the lingering aftermath of the bottle of wine you had both managed to finish. You could still feel the alcohol buzzing through your system, leaving your chest feeling warm and fuzzy. 

Your eyes are glued to him, straying by the white t-shirt he’d thrown on a couple of hours prior. The image of his naked chest is still glued in your mind, and you can’t help but think back to your arrival here. Water droplets clinging to his skin, towel hung low on his hips. — You tried to snap out of it, but looking at Soobin like this, in the soft glow of the footlamp behind him… It was hardly any different. 

His dark eyes find yours — there’s something more than just concern lingering within them. “I want you to have the bed”, he says, and the way he says it, with so much authority… It makes a shiver crawl down your spine. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or the weight of the late hour. But something made you feel a strange wave of excitement. 

With a grateful nod you accept his offer, awkwardly standing by the doorway as Soobin grabs a couple of his things to take with him to the couch. He’d asked if you wanted him to change the sheets beforehand, but you had told him not to bother. It already felt like you were taking too much. 

He passed you in the narrow doorway, his chest nearly brushing your own as he glanced down at you. “Goodnight”, he murmurs, not waiting for your response as he hurriedly makes his way toward the couch. 

Once the door to the bedroom is shut, you exhale a sigh you had been holding in. The room is small, yet still fitting a desk and a chair by the window, as well as a small dresser pushed up against one of the walls. The bed itself is queen sized, blanket neatly folded and pillows piled to perfection. But as you slid under the covers it became obvious that someone else had slept here. 

The scent of Soobin’s cologne invades your senses and against your better judgement you roll onto your stomach, pressing your face against the pillow as you inhale. He was everywhere, despite not even being present in the room. You can imagine his naked chest against this same mattress, his tall frame tangled between the sheets. 

The images, while not unpleasant — were still unwelcome. You grimace, feeling like somewhat of a pervert for even having these thoughts about the poor guy in the other room. Is this what he would get for taking you in? A sick freak who fantasizes about him at night. No, you promptly turn over on your back, folding your arms across your chest as you stubbornly wait for sleep to overtake you. 

But sleep never comes. 

Hours pass, the sound of the small clock on your bedside table goes from slightly comforting to daunting. Each tic signaling the slow passing of time. Shifting from left to right, you remain unable to find a comfortable position. You’re just about to give up and go see if Soobin was having the same struggles when a noise from the other side of the door catches your attention. 

The sound is muffled through the wood but it’s loud enough to make you sit up in bed, a frown tugging on your brows. Relief fills you, perhaps he was awake as well. The thought of company puts your restless mind at ease and you eagerly swing your legs over the edge of the mattress. 

Your feet tread lightly on the floorboards, hand hovering above the doorhandle for less than a second before twisting it. The door glides open without as much as a creak and you peer out through the opening. The couch was within sight from where you were currently standing and you expected to find Soobin up scrolling through his phone. 

What you didn’t expect was for him to have one hand down his sweats, jerking himself off vigorously with his head thrown back against the pillow. His shirt has slid up, exposing the tense muscles of his abdomen. One leg sprawled out across the couch, the other one bent as the heel of his foot dug into the cushion. 

Gagged, you watch in silence as the man you had met less than twelve hours prior gets himself off on the couch of your shared airbnb. You realize then that the sound you heard must’ve been a slip of his tongue whilst caught in bliss, and not from being unable to sleep on the uncomfortable couch. 

Torn between right and wrong, desire and reason, you stay by the door. For every second you spent watching him, the guiltier you felt. But the thought of interrupting him was almost twice the task. With a small gulp you attempt to revert back into the safety of the bedroom. Taking a tentative step backward, your foot lands on one of the house’s sweet spots, making it groan under your weight. 

The sound is enough to snap Soobin from his daze, his head jerking in your direction as his hand pulls back from his sweats. His eyes are wide, sweat sticking to his forehead as his chest heaves. For a moment you wondered if the alcohol was playing a trick on you — it hadn’t felt like much when you drank, but you had been wrong before. 

But when Soobin’s hoarse voice breaks the silence, you know that it’s real. “What… What are you doing out here?” He asks, and if it weren’t for how dark the room was, you would have probably been able to catch the flush of his cheeks. 

“I couldn’t sleep”, you reply, taking a hesitant step forward as the moonlight illuminates your silhouette. Soobin nods, his throat bobbing when he swallows. “Me neither…” He says. 

“Yeah, I figured.” 

You don’t know what compelled you to approach him when you should be bidding him goodnight and turning on your heel again. In fact you should try to forget everything you have just seen and go straight to sleep. But your body betrays you and you move forward. 

Soobin watches you, his eyes burning with unmistakable desire that only pushes you further. You stop by the edge of the couch, peering down at him through the darkness of the night. Your gaze drifts to his pushed down sweats, leaving behind a sliver of skin that shone in the moonlight. “Do you want any help?” 

The question was outright uncalled for, and had you not still been affected by the alcohol still running through your veins, the words would have never even left your mouth in the first place. 

You expect him to say no, to demand you leave him alone to wallow in his own shame. But he doesn’t. Instead he nods, the tilt of his head so subtle you barely caught it. “Yeah”, he breathes, hands clenching into fists by his sides as he regards you expectantly. 

Without wasting another second you climb on top of him, straddling his hips as you make yourself comfortable on his lap. It’s impossible to ignore the way he strains against his sweats, his body aching with demand that meets your own and you have to physically restrain yourself from grinding down on him. 

Soobin gazes up at you from where he lays, his dark hair falls like a crown around his head — chest heaving with each breath he takes. Large hands reach for your waist, his grip firm but gentle as he waits for you to act, like he still couldn’t believe this was real. 

Maybe this was a bad idea? You had both been drinking, hell you barely even knew each other. But the persistent throb between your legs clouds your judgement and before you can stop yourself you’re moving on top of him, gasping when his hard cock brushes against your cunt through the thick layers of clothes you both wear. 

“Fuck”, Soobin murmurs under his breath, eyes glued to your figure as he drinks in the sight of you on top of him. 

Your hands reach for his shirt, desperate to see the naked chest you had been picturing in your head for the past day. He goes willingly, letting you pull the cotton from his body as he releases his grip on you for a moment. — Tossing the shirt to the side, your gaze falls on his exposed torso, illuminated by the moonlight that filtered through the windows. 

“I want to touch you”, you murmur without slowing the pace of your rocking hips against his. Soobin quickly nods, his lips parted as his hands return to your waist, urging you closer. 

The tip of your fingers brushes over the smooth expanse of his chest, relishing in the way he shudders beneath you. He was perfection, sculpted by something otherworldly just for you. He groans when your nails dig into his skin, back arching off of the couch as he pants. 

Your once slow grinding on top of him had turned almost fervent, the barrier of clothes keeping you from what you really wanted. “Please, more”, you whine as you claw at the muscles adorning his stomach. 

Soobin doesn’t need to be told twice, fingers already hooked around the pajama shorts you had put on as he tugs them down with intent. You help him undress you, the buzz of alcohol crushing any sense of bashfulness at how you looked before him. The air is cold against your naked skin but you barely register it over the heat of his hands on you. 

“You’re beautiful”, he murmurs when you impatiently pull his sweats down his thighs. Your breath stutters at his words, a small smile striking your features as you glance over at him. He’s already watching you, the soft expression he wears making your heart flutter. 

The foreplay would’ve probably been sweet, somewhat desperate, but neither of you seemed to even toy with the idea of waiting as much as a second longer. Your fingers wrap around his cock, marveling at how heavy he feels in your hand as you line him with your aching cunt. You bite back a moan when his tip bumps against your clit, the brief contact sending sparks of electricity through you.

“I can’t wait any longer..” You murmur as you meet his gaze. Soobin makes a noise at the back of his throat, somewhere between a groan and a whine. 

“Then don’t.” 

Your heart thumps at his words, hand gripping him even firmer as you ease yourself down on him, gasping at how good he feels inside of you. Soobin’s hands are back on your waist, like they belonged there. He tugs you down, nestling his cock as deep into your cunt as it would go with one firm thrust. 

His brows furrow with barely controlled restraint as he feels you clench around him. “Fuck, you have to move”, he practically demands — his voice tinged with the same authority it held when he’d instructed you to take the bad rather than the couch. Something about the way he so gently took the lead made you shudder uncontrollably. 

Your hips move against him, basking in the way he fills you up. It was almost too much and your hands brace themselves on his chest when you lean forward. Eyes lingering on his plump lips, slightly parted as his ragged breaths escape them. Somewhere in that moment you realized that you hadn’t even kissed him. 

Without thinking twice you reach for his face, fingers grasping for his chin as you pull him toward you. Soobin doesn’t resist, allowing you to meet him halfway and seal him into a kiss filled with a thousand unspoken words. Feeling him against you like that only amplified the heat between your joint bodies — his cock twitching inside your cunt when you slip your tongue against his. 

He groans into your mouth, large hands traveling under your shirt and up your back as he raises his hips to meet your already frantic movements. “More”, you gasp, fingers digging into the sides of his face. It wasn’t enough, nothing would ever be.  

You bite on to his bottom lip when Soobin’s thumb snakes between your legs, thumb brushing over your clit in tantalizing circles. Your thighs clench, body trembling as you feel your orgasm approach with record speed — something that would probably have embarrassed you any night but tonight. 

“Cum on my cock”, Soobin groans, the hand previously on your back moving down to the curve of your ass, “Please.” The simple yet soft and vulnerable plea rolling off of his lips is enough to make you spiral. Breaking apart from the kiss, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the same scent that had driven you mad only an hour ago. 

Your moan brushes against his skin, cunt clenching vigorously around him when you finish. The pace of your hips stutters and grows jagged, but Soobin is there to catch you — unwavering in the way he caresses you. 

“Perfect”, he murmurs against the side of your face, his own hips thrusting up inside you despite the way your body aches for reprieve. You feel weightless on top of him, barely holding yourself upright as you feel his strong hands all over you. 

His voice is strained when he speaks, the request almost silent on his lips. “Can I..?” 

It takes you a moment to register his question, but when you do you give him a small nod. “Yes, please yes.” 

Soobin’s grip is unyielding from that point, his chest heaving under you he jerks up into your overstimulated cunt. Muttered curses fly under his breath, each one of them making you tingle with want. His pace becomes uncoordinated, cock twitching inside of you as he cums with a breathless groan. 

The warmth of his releases spreads through your stomach, the sensation making you dizzy as you cling on to him. He doesn’t pull out, too tired to even move as his arms wrap around your already limp frame. — Tugging you down on his chest, you listen to the rapid beating of your heart, eyes peering up at his face through your lashes. 

He sends you a small smile, one that makes him look all the more handsome with the dazed expression he wears. The feeling of his palm against your cheek is comforting, and it makes you realize that having someone to share with was far better than being alone. 

taglist ✎... @liaatiny @izzyy-stuff @1-800-jewon @hyunelixbun @lunesdesire @n0-thisispatrick @lickingan0rchid @tyunderella @fancypeacepersona @hyunj00 @hwang-choon @soohashits @xylatox @lilbrorufr @blossommi @beestvng @minji-willstay @sunoolver @sooberryworld @moonieja @bamgeutori @krispyearthquakesuit @ateez-atiny380 @tyunningism

(if your tag is not working please check your settings to make sure that your blog is not hidden!)

The first time you realized Soobin kept things, it was by accident.

You weren’t supposed to see it.

He’d left his notebook open on the desk while he went to grab something, and you, being you—leaned over out of boredom more than curiosity.

It wasn’t notes. It was… random. A receipt. A dried leaf. A candy wrapper.

You frowned slightly, flipping the page.

A movie ticket stub.

Another page—there was a tiny pressed flower, carefully taped down. And then...

Your handwriting.

You froze.

It was just a scrap of paper. Torn, slightly crumpled, with a messy “don’t forget to eat!!!” written in your rushed handwriting, complete with three aggressively drawn exclamation marks.

You remembered writing it. You’d shoved it into his hand weeks ago when he skipped lunch again.

“…what are you doing?”

You nearly jumped.

Soobin was standing in the doorway, staring at you. Not angry—just… caught.

“I...uh—” You gestured helplessly at the notebook. “You collect trash?”

His ears turned red almost instantly. “It’s not trash.”

“It’s literally a candy wrapper.”

“It was from that place you like,” he muttered, walking over quickly and closing the notebook.

You blinked. “…you kept it because of that?”

He didn’t answer. Which, honestly, was an answer.

You leaned against the desk, crossing your arms. “Okay, but the leaf?”

“…you said it looked like a heart.”

You tried—really tried—not to smile.

“And the receipt?” “You were complaining about the price for ten minutes.” “I still stand by that,” you said immediately. “It was overpriced.”

A pause.

Then, softer, you added, “So you kept it?”

He shrugged, avoiding your eyes. “I just… keep things.”

“Things,” you repeated slowly. “Yeah.” “That remind you of me?”

Silence.

He scratched the back of his neck, clearly debating whether to deny it or not.

“…maybe.”

That did it.

You laughed, not in a teasing way, but something warmer—something that made him glance at you, slightly confused.

“That’s kind of cute, Soobin.”

“It’s not supposed to be cute,” he mumbled.

“Too late.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but didn’t. Instead, he sat down, pulling the notebook closer to him like you might steal it.

You leaned down slightly, peeking at the edge. “What else is in there?”

“Nothing.” “Liar.” “It’s just random stuff.” “Show me.” “No.”

“Show me,” you insisted, nudging his arm.

He held firm for a second—then sighed, like he knew he wasn’t going to win anyway.

“Fine. But don’t laugh.” “I won’t.”

You absolutely would.

He opened it slowly this time, flipping through the pages himself. There was more than you expected.

A bus ticket. A photo booth strip—your faces slightly blurry because you wouldn’t stop moving. A sticky note with a badly drawn star (yours again).

And then—

You pointed. “Wait, that’s from—”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

It was from a day you barely remembered mentioning. Something small, insignificant to you.

But he had it. Saved. Pressed between pages like it mattered.

“…you’re really serious about this, huh?” you said, softer now.

He didn’t look embarrassed anymore. Just honest.

“I forget things easily,” he admitted. “So I keep stuff instead.”

You tilted your head. “But these are all… me.” “…yeah.”

There was no hesitation that time.

Something in your chest shifted.

Carefully, you reached out, touching the edge of the page where your messy note was taped down.

“You know,” you said, voice quieter than before, “you don’t have to keep pieces of paper to remember me.”

He looked at you then, really looked.

“I know,” he said.

A small pause. “…but I want to.”

That landed heavier than anything else he’d said. You didn’t tease him this time. Didn’t laugh. Instead, you tore a small piece from your own notebook, quickly scribbling something before placing it in front of him.

He blinked. “What’s this?”

“Add it to your collection,” you said.

Suspicious, he picked it up. “you’re cute too (but don’t get used to it)”

His lips pressed together, like he was trying not to smile.

Failed.

“…this one’s staying,” he said. “Obviously.”

He carefully tucked it into the notebook, smoothing it out like it was something fragile.

And for the first time, you noticed—

He wasn’t just keeping things. He was keeping moments. And somehow, without you realizing...

He’d been keeping you, too.

To my right, Soobin sat on a cushion of his own, sleeves of his hoodie pushed up, glasses reflecting the glow of his screen as his eyes flicked over the same PowerPoint slide.

His expression was calm—too calm for someone who was going to have his final presentation the next morning. Then he stretched, arms reaching overhead as he let out a quiet yawn, eyes half-lidded but still focused.

“You were talking too fast in other parts too,” I reminded him, not even looking up.

He let out a quiet groan. “You’ve timed me, what, three times already?”

“I’m just saying,” I replied. “You’re hitting the marks, yeah—but you’re hitting them like a robot.”

He turned to me with a raised brow. “The script’s too long for me not to talk fast, you know.”

“You’re basically rapping through the script, Soobin,” I gave him an unimpressed look.

“I read it aloud earlier. The timing was just right—You’re just the one who keeps starting the timer too early." He argued.

I raised a brow, unimpressed. “I’m not early on anything. You always leave a few seconds on the timer.”

His eyes found mine—and stayed there, just a second too long.

“So,” he said slowly, “you want me to slow down, then?”

“Just this part,” I murmured, pointing to a line with the tip of my pen. He leaned in slowly, just enough for his shoulder to brush mine, eyes following the point of my pen.

I glanced at him without thinking. His hair hung messily over his forehead, brushing the tops of his glasses. He was fiddling with the end of his hoodie string again, fingers curling around it before slipping it between his teeth, chewing on it like he didn’t even notice. All of a sudden, I realized how close our faces had gotten.

“Where?” he asked quietly, the words slightly muffled, the hoodie string still tugged between his lips.

“H-here…” I managed, barely above a whisper. I pointed with my pen to the line he needed to read. He leaned in even closer, eyes narrowing in on the script.

I instinctively pulled back, creating space between us as casually as I could manage, eyes flicking to my laptop screen like it suddenly demanded all of my attention. But I could still feel the heat blooming across my cheeks, spreading too fast to ignore.

“Yeah, these notes are good,” he said after a moment, voice quieter than before. I glanced sideways, then down at the hoodie string still hanging from his mouth.

“Do you really have to chew on that?” I asked, raising a brow, trying for playful but landing somewhere between disbelief and mild concern.

I fiddled with the cap of my pen, letting the soft sound fill the space between us as my other hand hovered over my keyboard, feigning concentration. Instead of snapping back like I expected, he paused.

His eyes flicked toward mine as he slowly let the hoodie string slip from his mouth, the fabric falling softly against his chest. For a moment, he just looked at me—head tilted slightly, like he was trying to piece something together.Then came the smallest twitch of a smile.

“You always pick the smallest fights with me when you’re nervous,” he said, voice low and even.

Not teasing—just stating it, like it was something he’d known for a while. My pen stilled mid-air.

“I’m not nervous,” I muttered, eyes fixed on my screen.

There was a pause. Then, softer, "You are. But it's okay... I'm nervous about it too."

That made me glance at him, and this time, I didn't look away. He leaned back slightly, posture relaxed, like he’d peeled something back—something he didn’t usually let show.

Oh. He was talking about the presentation.

Right.

But there was something in the way he said it. Gentle. Almost like a secret passed between us. It landed in my chest like a held breath I didn’t know I was keeping.

“I’m fine,” I assured him, trying to shake off the weird flutter in my chest.

I turned back to my laptop, leaving my pen resting on the script as I switched to the PowerPoint tab, brows furrowing while I scrolled through the slides for what felt like the hundredth time tonight.

"You’re overthinking again,” Soobin said, voice low and teasing.

I didn’t look at him. “Says the guy who helped me color-code our outline and triple-checked our citations.”

“Yeah, but I hide it better,” he replied, the smirk already audible in his tone.

“I just don’t want it to suck,” I sighed.

He let out a soft laugh. “It doesn’t. We’re fine.”

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.”

He smiled—genuine this time—and reached across the table to tug my notebook toward him. Our fingers brushed for a moment. Just a graze. Nothing major. But neither of us pulled away right away.

“I don’t get why you stress so much,” he said softly, leaning forward to jot a quick note on the script with my pen.

“You always make everything better.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He handed the pen back without looking away. “The slides. The project. You just… care more than anyone else I’ve worked with.”

It wasn’t exactly a compliment.

Not really.

But it made something twist inside me anyway.

I looked at him—really looked at him. The way his hair fell into his eyes, the way he always tilted his head when he was thinking, the subtle twitch of a smile he tried to hide whenever I got too worked up over formatting.

He was calm. Too calm. Like he wasn’t falling apart inside the way I was. I swallowed the bitterness tightening in my chest.

"You're weirdly nice when you're tired," I muttered, pretending to fix something on the PowerPoint.

“I’m always nice,” he shot back.

I gave him a skeptical look.

“Okay,” he laughed softly. “Sometimes.”

“You know,” I started, before I could catch myself,

“you’re really hard to read sometimes.”

He blinked, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Some moments you’re open—easy to talk to. But then other times, I can’t figure out what you’re thinking at all.”

The room fell silent. He blinked slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully.

“So are you,” he replied, voice quieter now.

“But I try.”

My heart did a stupid flip in my chest.

“Try what?”

He looked at me again, eyes steady. “To make it obvious.”

Then, it hit me,—all the signs I’d buried, the little things I brushed off as me being dramatic or reading too much into nothing.

Every look, every touch, every word.

My mouth went dry.

What the fuck was he trying to say?

I wanted to ask—God, I wanted to ask—but the pounding in my chest felt deafening, like my heart was trying to drown out the moment.

Oh my god, what if he can hear it too? I wondered.

So I said nothing.

I just stared at him, caught in the pull of it all—panic curling at the edges of my thoughts as hope blooms rapidly in my chest, confusion wrapping around it like a knot I couldn’t untangle.

“I—I…” I faltered, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Before I could think to move, he leaned in, eyes locked on mine. His hand rose slowly, hesitant at first, then steadier as his fingers reached for a loose strand of hair near my cheek.

He brushed it back behind my ear, his fingertips grazing my skin with a softness that sent a chill down my spine. But he didn’t pull away.

His hand lingered near my face, close enough that I could feel his warmth, close enough to see the subtle shift in his expression. Neither of us said a word.

His words from earlier hung between us like an unfinished sentence suspended in the air, and I was too afraid that if I spoke now, it would all collapse.

We’d had moments like this before. The kind that slipped by unspoken, but never unnoticed. Lingering glances in the hallway, the way his hand brushed mine when he passed notes, how his voice always softened when he would call me over to him.

But this? This felt so much louder.

"Y/N… I—" he began, voice low, hesitant.

But then, right on cue, his phone buzzed sharply beside us—the alarm he’d set earlier cutting through the quiet like a crack of thunder.

We both flinch at the sound.

He moved quickly, fumbling for his phone on the floor beside him. The sound cut off with a single tap, but the silence it left behind was deafening. For a moment, he didn’t look at me. His gaze stayed fixed on the now-dark screen, jaw tight.

Then, voice quieter this time, he said,

“You should probably head back.”

My heart dropped.

He still wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Big day tomorrow,” he added, like that explained everything.

“Right…” I murmured. “Big day.”

I nodded, slowly gathering my things. Papers, pens, laptop. Anything to keep my hands busy, to ignore the weight in my chest. He reached toward my notebook beside me, the same one he’d quietly asked to borrow earlier, but his hand paused halfway, as if hesitating before he finally picked it up.

He stood too, tidying what was left on the table with methodical care. Like if we didn’t speak on it, whatever almost happened would just fold neatly into the mess of crumpled drafts and unfinished thoughts.

Maybe that was safer.

Maybe that was us.

Almost. Always fucking almost.

I left his room without a word, not even sparing him a glance, as the quiet between us was left hanging heavier than ever.

The next morning, it was raining. A steady drizzle that blurred the campus edges and made the air feel thick with calm. He acted like nothing had ever happened.

He greeted me with that same soft smile he always wore before a presentation, handing me a printed copy of our outline. He even cracked a quiet joke about how I’d probably end up rewriting his part mid-way if I got too nervous.

But just like he said the night before—we nailed it.

The presentation went smoothly. It was clean, confident, every line delivered exactly as we’d rehearsed. Our professor smiled in satisfaction, expecting nothing less than perfection from us.

Our friends gave us friendly pats on the back, and compliments were thrown around—“Whoa, you guys did such a great job!” They stood by us, sharing the buzz of relief like teammates crossing a finish line.

But afterward?

Fucking nothing.

After school that day, it was like something snapped shut. No texts. No awkward small talk in the hallway. Not even a stupid silly face thrown at me when the professor announced Soobin had gotten the highest score on our English exam.

Nothing.

He stopped showing up where I used to find him—in the library, the park, even the convenience store where we always bumped into each other.

He just stopped replying. Stopped being there.

It was like I’d never mattered beyond that stupid project. And just like that, he was gone—leaving me tangled in everything I didn’t understand.

June 2019

Two years have passed since everything between us quietly fell apart—the electric connection replaced by a silence thick enough to fill a room.

In that time, everything changed. We went from playful teasing and personal competitions to exchanging little more than sharp looks and truly hurtful remarks. It’s not like we don’t cross paths—our worlds still overlap—but somehow, it’s like we don’t really exist to each other anymore.

Standing here now, I can feel the distance—not just the space between us, but all the things left unsaid, the moments we should’ve shared but didn’t, and the memories that don’t feel warm anymore.

The rain falls in a steady downpour, tapping rhythmically against the wooden porch roof where we stand. The ground grows muddier by the second, as the trees and plants eagerly soak up the long-awaited water they craved. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and pine as tall forest trees towering above us, casting shadows over the clearing.

"I can't believe I managed to get stuck with you," I mutter, groaning at the sight of the tall, raven-haired boy in front of me.

His head is bowed, fingers gliding across his phone screen with quiet concentration.

He doesn’t even look up. "Trust me, the feeling’s mutual."

I roll my eyes at his comment, letting my bag and umbrella drop against the wall with a heavy thump. Digging my hands into my pockets, I glance back at Soobin.

"Do you have the key?"

He sighs annoyingly at the question before reaching into his right pocket, and silently holds out the key to me. I shoot him a pointed look before taking it from his hand and unlocking the door.

It swings open to reveal a small but cozy cabin bedroom—just enough space for two. I step inside with Soobin, opening the door to the only bathroom near the entrance and nodding in satisfaction at the sight. Behind me, I hear him move forward to inspect the rest of the room, followed by the faint sound of a complaint.

"This is a joke, right?" I hear him say.

I step out of the bathroom and find him standing in front of the queen-sized bed, staring at it like it personally offended him. He looks back at me with a disbelief expression. I shrug, casually leaning against the doorframe.

“It was the cheaper option. They were gonna charge way more if we booked each room with double single beds.” He exhales sharply at my words, running a hand down his face.

I nod toward the floor. "The floor's always open, if you want. Though I think the racoon I saw outside might appreciate some company too."

"Haha, funny," he deadpans.

I drop my bag at the foot of the bed and sink down onto the mattress with a sigh, my mind drifting to the conversation I had with Beomgyu earlier today.

“Come on, can’t you switch with me, Gyu? You guys were roommates before, right?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Beomgyu said, tone apologetic but firm. “but I already talked to Kai earlier. I promised I’d play Cookie Run with him when we got to the room—he’s pretty excited to have me as his roommate.” I stared at him for a second, hoping he would change his mind. He didn't.

I exhale sharply, jaw tight. Of course this shit would happen.

This whole arrangement happened because someone thought it'd be a genius idea to assign roommates by picking straws—completely random, they said. An equal chance for everyone, they said. I rolled my eyes at the thought.

Yeah. Sure.

I had only agreed because, honestly, I mean what are the odds that I'd end up with Choi Soobin? The same boy who’s spent every semester of high school trying to one-up me on test scores and presentations.

The one who ran against me for class representative and won by just a few votes—probably thanks to his crowd of fangirls who couldn’t stop staring at him in class.

The boy kept sending me mixed signals the entire time we worked together on that final major project, only to shut me out right after without a single word.

It was a miracle we were even caught in the same room. Despite having mutual friends and going to the same university, our paths rarely crossed—only seeing each other at social events or the occasional group hangout.

Of course, only Yunjin knew about the mixed signals part. She was the only person I trusted enough to vent to—the poor girl was forced to sit through rants over lunch about how confusing and frustrating he was. But, unbeknownst to me, that same 'poor girl' was actually in on a plan—one orchestrated by none other than Choi Yeonjun himself.

Everyone was in on it except for Soobin and me.

The plan? To finally put an end to all the bickering, snarky remarks, and this endless tension between us.

I remember hearing Yeonjun calling from the living room earlier, telling everyone we’d be picking straws to decide who’d room with whom. Meanwhile, I was in my bedroom, too busy stuffing one last hoodie into my already full backpack.

There were two sets of colored straws, each set pairing two people together.

Taehyun managed to distract Soobin with some 'new workout tip' he was eager to share, flashing his phone in front of him. Soobin's eyes were glued to the screen, interested at this new advice his friend had given him, that he carelessly grabbed a random colored straw from Yeonjun's hand without even sparing a glance at it.

When Soobin held it up, the two boys exchanged a knowing glance. Soobin had gotten the orange straw.

Taehyun gave Yeonjun a slight nod, and Yeonjun then strolled over to the others, quietly whispering which colors to pick to avoid the dreaded orange. Finally, Yeonjun made his way over to me, one last straw pinched between his fingers.

"You're the last one, Y/N. Orange was the only one that was left," he said, holding it out.

"Oh, that's fine. I think the orange is pretty cute anyway," I shrugged, more relieved to be done forcefully shoving that hoodie into my already overflowing backpack than anything else.

He grinned, eyes flicking to the straw in my hand. "Yeah? I think it suits you."

I flashed a quick smile in return. "Thanks, I've always wanted to match with a traffic cone."

Yeonjun chuckled under his breath and nodded toward the living room.

"C’mon, let’s see who fate paired you up with."

I slung my bag over my shoulder and followed him down the hall, completely unaware of the setup I had just walked straight into. We stepped into the living room. Everyone is raising their straws in the air, scanning the room for their partners, and others already finding theirs.

I couldn't help but smile at the sight, catching the moment Yunjin excitedly rushed over to Nari. They shrieked and jumped together with joy as they realized they both pulled the green straws.

On the couch, Beomgyu and Kai compared their blue straws, already deep in conversation about some game Kai insisted on playing in the cabin tonight. Yeonjun scanned the room before casually walking over to Taehyun. He lifted his red straw with a knowing grin before exchanging a 'bro' handshake with him.

Then it hit me. Oh fuck, no.

Then that means... I slowly turned my head, already dreading what I know I would see.

And there he was—Choi Soobin, standing a few feet away with the same orange straw in hand, staring straight at me.

I fucking hate orange.

My phone dings, and I glance down to see a text from Yunjin and Yeonjun.

Yunjin: Sorry about the roommate situation again, babe. Wish it could’ve been the three of us here. We miss you <3 sent at 20:17 pm.

Me: It's okay, it wasn't your fault. Miss you guys too! sent at 20:18 pm.

Yunjin: Think you’ll survive? sent at 20:18 pm.

Me: Yeah, just hoping I make it through the night and the rest of the trip without committing a felony sent at 20:19 pm.

Yunjin: Sending prayers and snacks! Good luck, babe <3 sent at 20:20 pm.

I smile softly at her texts before switching over to my chat with Yeonjun.

Yeonjun: How's orange going for ya right now ;) sent at 20:16 pm.

Me: Die. sent at 20:21 pm.

I glance over at Soobin, who’s already sprawled out on the right side of bed, phone still in hand.

“So, you’re taking the bed?” I ask, arms crossed.

“Yeah,” he replies without looking up. Then, with a perfectly fake smile, he adds, “Just try not to kick me in your sleep, yeah?”

The sass practically oozes from his voice.

"No promises," I mutter under my breath, kicking off my shoes a little more aggressive than necessary—just to piss him off. "Accidents happen."

He snorts quietly, still glued to his phone. “That tends to happen a lot when you’re around.”

I roll my eyes at his comment, "You've chosen the right side of the bed, then?"

“Figured it made sense. You didn’t seem in a rush to claim it.”

"Oh, I didn't realize it was a race."

He lets out a small breath, not quite a laugh. "With you? It usually is."

“Chivalry isn’t dead, after all.” I mumble, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Wow. It's just like high school all over again.

A beat passes. No one says anything and neither of us smiles.

The room feels tense but somehow warmer than it did a minute ago. I can't tell if its because he turned on the heater—or because this is the first proper conversation we’ve had in a year. Well, sorta proper.

It was tense, but it felt all too familiar to the both of us. It felt almost too easy to fall back into this rhythm. I don't respond right away, I just sit at the foot of the bed, unzipping my bag—only to find my clothes soaked from the heavy downpour.

I pull out the thick hoodie I had shoved in earlier, raising it in the air as it drips water onto the wooden floor.

"Fuck me."

I hold out the wet hoodie and hurry into the bathroom, draping it over the sink. I walk back into the bedroom again, digging into my bag for clothes that somehow escaped the rain. Luckily, I find some dry jeans, pajama shorts, and t-shirts, though a few items are damp.

Unfortunately, the other sweater I had packed for the trip is completely soaked as well, leaving me with only an oversized tee to keep me warm for the night.

A notification pops up from the group chat. It was Kai sending a blurry selfie with a face mask on, while Beomgyu flips off the camera, green glob smeared across both cheeks. I shake my head at the message, before pulling off my sweatshirt and heading to the bathroom for a quick shower.

I set my things down and peel off the rest of my clothes as the water takes a moment to heat up. When it’s finally hot enough, I step in, letting the steady stream wash over me—washing away the stress of the day: the rain, the long travel, him.

For a moment, everything feels still.

The sound of the shower mixes with the quiet hum of my thoughts and the steam rising from the hot water. I try not to psych myself out about being alone in the same room as Soobin again.

It literally feels like I’m trapped in some strange purgatory of old, burning tension and mountains of unfinished business

Okay, don't overreact.

When I finally step out, towel wrapped around me and hair dripping onto the bathroom tiles, I feel a little calmer than before, like I’m myself again. Or at least a version of me that doesn’t want to peel layers of skin off because of the sweat and rain clinging to me.

A version of me that might actually make it through this trip.

I dry off quickly and throw on some clothes—a loose, oversized shirt and the driest pair of pajama shorts I can find. Not great for warmth, but better than sleeping in damp, smelly jeans.

A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips. Clean feels good.

I open the bathroom door to the soft, warm glow of the bedroom light. Soobin is still there, now sitting on the edge of his side of the bed, phone casting a pale glow on his face. I quietly make my way to my side, keeping my back facing him as I start organizing the rest of my things without a word.

Behind me, the bathroom door clicks shut again, and the sound of the shower starts up. After a few minutes, the water stops, and the door opens once more, Soobin steps out.

“You done sulking yet?” I hear him ask.

“Not even close,” I reply, still facing away.

“Knew you’d say that.” He smirks.

I raise an eyebrow, pausing mid-rummage through my bag. Then I turn around—only to be met with a sight I wasn’t quite prepared for.

"What? You would've done the same if—Jesus, Soobin.”

My words halt as my eyes catch the sight of him standing by the bed. The boy only had a towel slung loosely around his waist and his chest still glistening with droplets from the shower.

His raven hair is tousled, carelessly swept back just enough to keep it from falling into his eyes as beads of water slowly trail down his neck and disappearing beneath the edge of the towel.

"You seriously couldn't have gotten dressed up inside the bathroom?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

He looks up, a t-shirt hanging from one hand, completely unfazed. He shrugs. "Didn't realize it was a crime to dry off in my own room."

I scoff, tearing my gaze away, and forcing myself not to notice the faint flush creeping up my cheeks. This definitely wasn’t the same boy who used to trip over his words just asking to borrow a pen.

No, this version walks around like he owns the fucking air we breathe. I hate that I still notice the difference.

“Idiot,” I mumble, barely audible under my breath.

The rain continues to patter against the windowpane, its steady rhythm growing louder as the storm outside intensifies. He runs a hand through his damp hair, tousling it further, then pulls the clean shirt over his head. The cotton fabric stretches slightly, damp patches from the shower leaving faint gray marks on the white shirt.

I adjust my own shirt, making sure it sits right, before trying to my bury my attention on the mundane task instead of the half-naked—honestly, basically naked, considering it was just a damn towel—boy behind me.

The quiet stretches on, the sound of rain filling the room as I work. Once I'm finally done, I stand, glancing over my shoulder to find him now wearing a hoodie over his shirt, paired with loose pajama pants. I let out sigh in relief and, a tiny bit of disappointment before walking over to the bed.

I pull back the covers and settle into my side, leaning against the headboard. For a moment, I let my eyes fall shut, trying to quiet the mixed nerves and lingering tension still humming under my skin. A few minutes pass before I feel the mattress dip beside me.

I open my eyes slowly and reach for my phone, letting the screen light up my face as I begin scrolling through social media. I come across a few dumb videos that make me snort under my breath, one of them pulling out a soft chuckle.

We don’t look at each other for a while. We don’t need to. There’s an unspoken agreement hanging in the air—we’ll just try to get through this the best we can.

The bedside lamps illuminating the room with warm lighting, cutting through the dimness as the storm outside grows even stronger.

Suddenly, the lights start to flicker abruptly.

My eyes slightly widen as uneasiness starts creeping in just as Soobin and I finally exchange glances at one another.

Then, everything goes black—the power cuts out and the heater falls silent. Now, only the glow from our phone screens lights up the space between us. I softly gasp at the sudden blackout, fingers instinctively tightening around the blanket as I pull it closer to me, attempting to hide the fluttering fear building in my chest.

I watch as Soobin turns on the flashlight on his phone, then standing up from his spot to try flicking the lights on and off again.

"That won't work, you know," I tell him.

"Not bad to try, is it?"

I shift my gaze toward the window, watching the rain clash against the glass as the tree branches sway in the gusts of the storm. Suddenly, a sharp alarm rings from Soobin's phone, making the both of us jump. He scans his device, slowly taking his time to read the alert before looking back at me.

“Heavy rainfall. The power’s out in other parts of the area too. They say it won’t come back until the storm calms down.” I sigh, turning my phone’s flashlight on and sinking into the sounds of rain filling the room.

"Just when it couldn't get any worse" he comments, sitting back down on the bed.

"Right," I say quietly, not looking up. "Because sharing a room with me is clearly the end of the world."

He tilts his head slightly, glancing over. "Didn’t say that."

"You didn’t have to." I exhale, keeping my voice even. "You’re not exactly subtle."

I glance down at my phone, the soft light of the screen casting a faint light across the sheets. After a moment, I move to place it on the bedside table, flashlight facing up to push back some of the dimness hanging in the room.

The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable. Just... suspended.

"How do you think the others are doing?" he asks eventually, voice lower than before.

I pause to think for a moment.

"Beomgyu and Kai are probably trying to see who can scare the other first with stupid ghost stories... or maybe watching some random movie Kai downloaded on his laptop before the trip."

He lets out a quiet laugh. "Yeonjun and Tae are probably having those deep conversations—catching up on life, figuring stuff out."

We share a quick look, a brief moment of shared understanding.

"Yunjin and Nari are probably the same," I add.

"Except Nari’s definitely curled up next to Yunjin by now, too scared of the thunder and lightning outside to care about the blackout."

I chuckle softly at the thought of my friends using this time to connect with each other better. It’s oddly comforting to think about them all, finding little moments like this despite everything.

A sudden flash of lightning briefly illuminates the window, casting sharp shadows across the room as the rain pounds harder against the glass. My bottom lip trembles ever so slightly, the roaring thunder outside and the blackout still gnawing at my nerves.

I bite down gently, trying to steady myself—trying to keep the spiraling thoughts from dragging me too deep into the what-ifs. Soobin notices. He doesn’t say anything, just quietly gets back into bed, pulling the covers over himself. I can feel his gaze linger as he turns to face me, his eyes settling on the faint shiver I can’t quite hide.

I force myself to stay still, pretending I don’t feel the weight of his gaze. I fix my eyes on the wall ahead, silently counting the seconds between flashes of lightning and the low rumble that follows.

Then, his voice breaks the silence, tone low and careful. "You okay?"

The question makes my chest tighten a little. I nod, almost instinctively.

"Yeah. I’m usually fine with this kind of thing. Just... this one feels different.”

A pause. Then, "You always did hate the dark."

His tone isn't teasing when he says that. I glance over at him. He continues to hold his gaze at me, trying to recall a memory too.

"I didn't think you'd remember that." I murmur.

And suddenly I’m brought back to a moment during one of our late project nights, two years ago. I’d mentioned it without much thought, embarrassed as I admitted to keeping a nightlight on before I fell sleep well into high school. I’d expected him to laugh, maybe even tease and poke fun at me for it. But he didn't.

He’d just listened.

This moment feels like that version of him again. Before everything got so messy.

Soobin shifts slightly under the blanket, his voice softer when it returns. “I didn’t forget much, you know. Even when it felt like I did.”

He doesn’t elaborate, but he doesn’t need to. A moment of silence lingers between us.

"You can borrow my hoodie, if you want." he suddenly offers, already tugging at the sleeve like he’s ready to hand it over. "Might help you warm up a bit."

“No, it’s fine. I’m not that cold,” I say, trying to wave it off.

He shakes his head lightly, already starting to pull the hoodie over his head. “I don’t mind. I was next to the heater earlier, so I'm still warm anyway.”

“No, really. I’m okay,” I insist, even as I curl the blanket a little tighter around myself.

He gives me an unimpressed look. “Y/N, you’re literally shivering.”

"So?" I ask. He rolls his eyes before siting up from his previous position, slipping the hoodie over his head. The fabric shifts with the motion, briefly lifting his shirt and revealing a glimpse of his waist before settling into place again.

“Stop.”

He smirks slightly, holding the hoodie out again.

“Stop what?” he replies, raising an eyebrow.

“Being nice to me,” He shakes his head with an amused expression on his face, like he couldn't believe I was still thinking about that right now.

He tosses the hoodie toward me, the fabric landing softly on the bed between us before I can argue again. I can’t help but smile, feeling that familiar push-pull between us again.

“Just take it,” he says casually, settling back into his side of the bed like the conversation’s over.

“Don’t make me regret being nice.”

I stare at the hoodie for a second before slowly picking it up. It’s still warm. I hesitate less because of pride now, more because it smells like him, familiar and oddly comforting.

“Thanks,” I murmur, slipping it on. The sleeves are long, brushing against my fingertips, and the fabric is soft from too many washes.

But even as I settle into it, a little voice in my head starts nagging. What are you doing? Don’t let yourself fall for his bullshit again.

I try to play it cool, pushing that voice to the deepest part of my mind. But I can’t help the way I slow down just a little as I pull the hoodie tighter around me. I know to myself I shouldn't be letting it matter this much. But here I am, sitting in a dark room, wrapped in Soobin’s sweatshirt like it’s some kind of fragile, borrowed comfort, trying to make up for the years of unfinished business.

The same guy I’d been quietly pining over for years back in high school—the one who stood up for me whenever someone made dumb comments about me, the one who—

Okay, we get it.

Holy shit, I need to get a grip.

“You know, this reminds me of that time in junior year—when the power went out during finals week?” He cuts off my train of thought.

I blink, thrown for a second by the sudden shift. “What, in the middle of exam prep?”

He nods, a small laugh slipping out. “Yeah. You were freaking out because your notes got soaked in the rain, and the library shut early. You barged into the classroom like you were ready to fight someone.”

I let out a quiet groan, covering my face with one hand. “God, don’t remind me.”

“I remember you made the whole friend group take turns sharing notes with you. Bossed everyone around like it was your birthright.”

I peek through my fingers at him, trying not to smile. “Well, I was desperate. And it worked, didn’t it?”

“I mean, yeah. I didn’t mind.” He shrugs. His tone shifts slightly—quieter, softer. And something about it makes me glance up again.

“You never really did know how many people wanted to help you,” he adds. “I don’t think you let yourself see it.”

My throat tightens a little at that. I don’t have anything clever to say back. So I just look at him. And for a second, there’s nothing but the sound of the rain and something quietly settling between us. Something that’s been there for a long time.

"I remember when you used to ‘borrow’ my notes during our study sessions, and somehow they’d never make it back to me.” I say, a teasing edge in my voice.

Soobin casts me a glance I can’t quite read, then shifts his eyes upward to the ceiling. “They made it back… eventually.”

I raise an eyebrow. “After like two months. They were all crumpled by the time they came back to me, especially that one time you spilled banana milk on the cover of my notebook.”

“It was still readable.” He chuckles, unbothered.

"Barely. My color coded notes and neat handwriting deserved better."

Soobin smiles a little at that. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have let me sit next to you in class. That’s on you.”

I shake my head, lips twitching. “Unbelievable.”

“Resourceful,” he corrects, tapping his fingers lightly on the blanket.

I shift my body to completely face him, "You're still the same, Choi Soobin.." I chuckle softly.

Soobin mirrors my movement, turning just enough so we’re facing each other now, the space between us dim and quiet except for the rain outside and the faint hush of our breaths.

After a beat, he asks quietly, his voice softer than before, almost careful. “So… what are you thinking right now? Just between us.”

I offer a small, almost shy smile. “And what makes you think I’d just spill everything that easily?”

“Maybe because it’s just the two of us here, might as well keep things peaceful instead of turning this into another argument.”" He says, his voice soft but steady.

I’m not even sure when it all started. This endless back-and-forth between us. What began as silent, resentful looks slowly turned into quiet digs, and now it’s just occasional sharp remarks whenever we cross paths.

It’s feels almost automatic now. A reflex to sink into that sour mood when he’s around, the weight of all those old grudges clouding, filling me with disgust at the thought of Choi Soobin. But tonight, I'll take a slow breath and try to let it all go. I want to focus on staying civil, pushing all those unspoken frustrations aside, pretending for now that the tension between us doesn’t exist.

I let out a sigh. “Honestly? I’m just counting down the minutes ‘til the storm lets up and the power come back on.”

"Really?"

"Really." I lift an eyebrow, giving him a look.

"That’s all that’s on your mind?"

"What, were you expecting a secret confession or something?"

Fuck.

He lets out a quiet chuckle. “I don’t know... it just looked like your brain was running a marathon.”

I offer a small smile. “Well, I was also trying to figure out how we’re supposed to survive the next few days without driving each other insane.”

He laughs under his breath, shaking his head slightly. “That’s fair.”

A quiet moment stretches between us, the steady tap of rain against the window filling the space.

“But so far… I think we’re doing okay,” he says, voice thoughtful.

Then he glances over, meeting my eyes with a hint of hesitation. "Right?"

I hold his gaze for a moment, surprised by the softness in his voice. The kind of tone I wasn’t used to hearing from him anymore. A small part of me wants to scoff, to brush it off with another sarcastic remark. But instead, I find myself nodding.

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I think we are.”

We both exchange soft smiles before breaking eye contact.

"How about you?" I ask, voice softer now.

"Hm?" he responds, barely turning his head.

"What’s on your mind, right now?" I press gently, tilting my head slightly as I study his profile.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Thinking about..." he trails on.

"How many points I lost in my game when the blackout kicked me out mid-match.”

I laugh softly, playfully smacking his arm. “I’m serious!”

“I am too! Do you know how hard it was to build up that streak?” He winces dramatically, rubbing the imaginary spot I hit. I roll my eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

“Yeah, I’m sure your streak is definitely the top priority right now" He chuckles at my comment, the corners of his mouth twitching in that familiar, slightly smug way.

I glance up at him, locking eyes. His expression shifts just slightly, something unreadable passing through, but I don’t look away. Not this time.

"Really." I murmur.

He pauses for a moment, long enough to stir my curiosity. Something about the hesitation feels deliberate, but I don’t push. I stay quiet, waiting.

"I guess...” he starts, eyes fixed on the ceiling instead of me. “I was just thinking about how this feels a little like... high school again.”

I feel his words like a pang in my chest, old memories stirring just beneath the surface.

“Yeah,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. “It does feel like that.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then, more carefully, “Do you… still think about that time?”

“Sometimes,” I admit, eyes fixed on some spot beyond him.

“When I start missing how easy everything used to be. Before college got... complicated”

Before it got complicated between us, too.

"I think about it sometimes too, you know.."

"Yeah?"

“Yeah. I mean, I probably shouldn’t admit it, but part of me did enjoy the whole back-and-forth thing between us." he says quietly, almost sheepishly.

"Don't go soft on me now, Choi." I say, a teasing edge in my voice.

He grins, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Me? Never."

"Yeah. Keep telling yourself that, buddy."

We both let out quiet chuckles, the tension between us easing just a little. Before I can stop myself, the words slip out,

“Do you think about what happened between us?”

He freezes, just slightly. He doesn’t meet my eyes right away. Instead, his gaze drops to the blanket, fingers absently tugging at a loose thread on the blanket.

“…I-I don’t know.” His voice low.

“I haven’t really thought about it in a while.”

“Right.” I nod slowly, even if it feels like something inside me just cracked a little.

“Seems like forgetting stuff like that doesn’t take much for you.” I try to keep my voice even.

That finally makes him look at me.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, quietly.

“Then what did you mean?”

He hesitates.

I can see him trying to come up with the right thing to say, but he doesn’t land on anything.

So I say it for him. “Don’t do that.”

His brows draw together, confused. “Do what?”

"I don't know... Be nice to me, and when you finally let me in, you just shut me out again."

“I.. I don’t really know what you want me to say.”

“I just want you to…” I trail off, frustration tightening in my chest. “I just want you to tell the truth. For once.”

I sit up from where I was lying, the weight of the moment pressing down on me.

“I am telling the truth,” he says, sitting up as well, his voice firm.

I shake my head. “Bullshit.”

His lips part, but I cut him off before he can say anything. I don’t want to hear the excuses.

“I get it. It’s easier to pretend nothing ever happened, right? Like we can just go back to how things were.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean, exactly?”

He looks at me—really looks at me. His eyes trace my face like he’s trying to make sense of me.

“Do you want me to say you didn’t mean anything to me?” I freeze. I want to meet his gaze, but I can’t bring myself to look at him.

“Is that what you think?”

He doesn’t answer. The silence between us feels heavy, like we’re underwater. I finally look up, meeting his eyes and there it is; a flicker of something, maybe pain.

"Don't act like you know what's going on inside my head" he mumbles.

"Then just fucking tell me."

He hesitates, jaw tightening. For a long moment, nothing but the sound of our breathing fills the space between us. Then he exhales, looking away as his voice drops, rough around the edges.

“You act like you’re the only one who got hurt.”

That throws me. My shoulders tense, heart stuttering.“What are you talking about?”

He laughs once, a bitter sound that only makes my irritation flare hotter.

“You’re really going to play dumb now?” he asks, turning back to me, eyes sharp and unrelenting.

I don’t back down, my voice shaking with frustration. “No, Soobin. Fuck—I don't even know what you're talking about right now.”

He narrows his eyes, voice sharp and cutting through the tension.“What? You think I was just some asshole who ghosted you because I felt like it? That I woke up one day and decided to cut you out for no reason?”

“Yes!” I snap, louder than I mean to. “That’s exactly what it looked like! You shut me out—no call, no text, nothing. You left me to figure it out on my own.”

His face hardens, but something flickers beneath the anger—something that looks a lot like hurt.

“Stop acting so damn oblivious about it, Y/N!” he snaps, the anger bubbling beneath his tone.

“Oblivious about what?” I demand, my voice rising.

“The fucking letter!” he spits out, voice raw and desperate.

I blink, caught off guard.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, my heart pounding.

His expression tightens, confusion mixing with disbelief.

“The note I left in your notebook—the one where I tried to tell you that I…” His voice falters, trailing off before he can finish.

I look at him, confusion twisting in my chest, my heart pounding louder. He didn't even need to say it. We both knew what he meant. Silence falls and neither of us moves or speaks. I could hear my heart thump in my chest so loudly I’m sure he can hear it too.

“So you thought I was just supposed to know?” I burst out, voice sharp and trembling.

“That I’d just magically find your stupid note and feel the same—when you never even gave it to me?”

“I did give it to you, Y/N!” he snaps.

“I left the damn notebook on top of your locker before our final presentation that morning. You can’t tell me you didn’t see it.” he explains.

I go quiet, trying to pull the memory from the haze of that day. It was raining... I remember that. I was soaked, rushing through the hallway, trying to dry myself off. I’d thrown my umbrella carelessly on top of the locker… never even looked. His voice cuts in again, bitter.

“I found it the next day,” he says quietly, “In the trash bin. Not just the note—the whole damn notebook. Like you were trying to erase everything I said in that stupid letter. It was like I never even mattered to you.”

He continues, "And you never said a damn thing! How was I supposed to read your mind? You shut me out just as much as I did!” His eyes flashing with anger again.

What?

“Shut you out?” I scoff, stepping closer. “You fucking disappeared! Left me in the dark. And now you act like I’m the villain?”

He scoffs back, voice low and bitter. “Maybe you threw everything away the moment you decided I wasn’t worth your fucking time.”

The air between us grows tighter, heavy with resentment and repressed frustrations. The heavy pressure building in my chest is matched with the rising intensity of the rainstorm outside. The atmosphere feels even more heated, caused by the swirling mixed emotions of hurt and frustration.

Without a second thought, my hand grips the collar of his shirt, yanking him toward me. His eyes widen in surprise for just a second. Suddenly, I crash my lips onto his. His hand immediately finds my face, as the other wrapping itself around my waist, pulling me even closer against him.

The taste of his minty toothpaste still lingers on his lips, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo, silently begging to let it drown out every logical thought as we pour all our frustrations we had been dragging for too long into the kiss. I move instinctively, sliding into his lap, my fingers tangling in his hair.

It all felt so messy, so chaotic.

I can almost hear a tiny voice in the back of my head saying we should talk this out like rational adults—that we shouldn’t be tearing into each other like this.

Fuck that.

I don’t stop. I know I don’t want to. Not when he's kissing me like this.

His hand slides from my waist to grip one of my thighs, anchoring me to him as I shift deeper into his lap, craving the friction. He catches my bottom lip gently between his teeth, and I gasp—enough for him to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping into my mouth. My whole body reacts, heat pooling in my chest as my heart thunders louder than the storm outside. When we finally pull apart, breathless, neither of us moves.

Our foreheads pressed against each other, breathing uneven, as our eyes lock into one another like we were trying our best to make sense of the situation I had pulled both of us into, not uttering a single word. Maybe we were both too afraid to break whatever this is—to say something that would snap us back into reality. A reality where we call this a mistake and pretend like this never happened, like we’ll be switching rooms tomorrow and going back to whatever we were before.

His fingers twitch slightly against my thigh before slowly loosening their grip. A flicker of disappointment stirs in me, my thoughts racing at the possibility that he might actually pull away. His eyes search mine, like he’s trying to find the right version of me—one that isn’t clouded by all the assumptions he’s built up over time.

"I… I didn't know you didn't get it," he finally says, voice low and hoarse. "The letter."

I nod gently, swallowing hard. "I didn't. I would've said something if I had."

"Would you?" he asks with no accusation in his tone. Just uncertainty. His voice is wrapped in hesitation, like he's bracing himself for something.

"Yeah," I whisper. "I would've."

He exhales sharply, eyes closing for a second.

“You really didn’t know,” he says, more to himself than to me.

I shake my head. "No. I think it got tossed before I even noticed it was there."

A beat passes as we continue to hold onto each other.

“Then everything I thought… all this time…” His voice fades, but I know what he means.

“I thought you didn’t feel the same. That you never would,” he admits quietly.

“And I thought you never cared at all,” I say.

There’s a tenderness in the space between us that wasn’t there before.

I start to feel a strange warm fuzziness blooming in my chest, unfamiliar but not unwelcome. His dark brown eyes lock onto mine as he brushes a loose strand of hair from my face, his fingers barely grazing my skin.

“I always did,” he whispers. My heart flutters at his confession.

I lean in meeting our lips once more.

The next morning, the rain finally lets up. The cabin is quiet, broken only by the rustle of clothes and the occasional creak of the floorboards. I stir at the sound, blinking against the pale gray light filtering through the curtains. Soobin’s already up—half-dressed, moving carefully around the room.

He doesn’t say anything. Neither do I.

There’s no bitterness in the silence. He moves around the room quietly, slipping on a shirt, brushing his fingers through his hair. I watch him from the bed, the blanket pulled loosely around my waist, heart still beating slower than usual.

He doesn’t meet my eyes.

Something about the way he avoids my gaze makes my chest tighten. Last night had felt like something cracked open. But now, in the soft gray light of morning, I’m not sure either of us knows what to do with the pieces.

Soon, we both step out of the cabin together, walking in silence toward the shared dining area.

When we arrive, the others are already gathered around the long wooden table. Kai is in the middle of attempting to roll a grape down from his forehead into his mouth, much to Nari’s delight. She sits beside him, another grape pinched between her fingers, cheering him on like it was a sport.

The table erupts with laughter and exaggerated complaints about who snores the loudest. I smile at the sight.

“Look who finally made it,” Beomgyu grins, raising his cup of coffee. I roll my eyes, grabbing a seat beside Yeonjun. Soobin wordlessly takes the one across from me.

“Did you guys sleep in, or were you just avoiding us?” he adds.

I force a tired smile and settle into my seat. Soobin just nods. “Yeah. Just tired.”

"Last night’s storm kept us up pretty late.” I add.

“We didn’t sleep much either!” Yunjin jumps in. “Nari wouldn’t stop talking about the possibility of the lightning hitting one of the cabins that it got me fearing for my life too."

“I was being realistic,” Nari protests, and the table erupts again.

I laugh softly, eyes flicking to Soobin without thinking. The memory of our conversation the night before lingered at the edge of my thoughts.

I knew I made the right guess.

“We were talking about the storm earlier too,” Kai says, reaching for a slice of toast. “What did you two end up doing when the power went out?”

I see Beomgyu wiggle his eyebrows from the corner of my eye.

“Soobin lost his mind for a bit,” I say, voice light. "He got disconnected mid-game and wouldn’t shut up about some ranked streak,”

“And Y/N kept hogging the blanket,” Soobin adds, not missing a beat. “I don’t even know how she managed to wrestle with me while dead asleep.”

Groans erupt around us but underneath the teasing, something subtle shift lingers between the two of us. They’re watching us now.

Soobin stands abruptly and brushes crumbs off his shirt. “I’m gonna get some orange juice. You want anything?”

It’s casual. But the silence that follows isn’t. I glance up, just in time to catch how heads turn—slight, slow, like they’re trying not to make it obvious. But it is. Too fucking obvious.

They weren’t expecting that.

“Apple juice,” I reply, voice even. He nods once and walks off.

Taehyun leans in just enough to lower his voice. “You two okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired,” I repeat, too fast. Too practiced.

"Riiight," The boy hums, unimpressed, dragging the word out a little. His gaze lingers longer than it should. I don’t meet it.

I busy myself with the glass of water in front of me, pretending not to notice how the table feels quieter around me. Even Hueningkai, who’s usually the first to fill silences, pauses mid-bite to glance back and forth between us. It’s subtle, but they can tell. Everyone can.

The air between me and Soobin is heavier, different—like something broke open last night and we haven’t figured out how to patch it up again.

We don’t bicker. We don’t talk.

We were just stuck in this strange, unspoken truce, careful not to look too long or say too much.

Nari cheers suddenly, loud and triumphant.

“I did it! It actually landed in my mouth!” She beams, holding her hands in the air like she’d won a medal. Everyone laughs and claps, the attention shifting with relief. The tension breaks—but not for me.

Because a second later, I feel someone lean in from my left, too close to be casual. His voice lands soft and deliberate right at my ear.

"Orange does suit you, Y/N." Yeonjun murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

My gaze snaps to him, confused—until I see where he’s looking. Not at me. Not at my face. But at the purple mark hidden just behind my neck. Faint. Barely there. Not invisible, though.

Oh.

My heart skips, and I swallow. Across the table, Soobin sets down the two glasses—one in front of me, the other by his seat. His fingers brush the rim of mine for just a second longer than needed.

When I meet his eyes, he’s already looking at me.

There’s a quiet intensity in his gaze—something unspoken hanging between us. But instead of holding his stare, I look away first.

It feels easier this way.

a/n: heyyyy!! :D uhh im backkk akjsbfjasbf. I want to start posting wayy more like actually, like legit i promise. i'll also start replying to my requests and will open them soon again!!

anywayy, i still don't know how to feel about this fic since this is my first time writing something thats not a research paper in a hot minutee, but i hoped u guys like itt!!

(im also still trying to get comfortable writing a bit more suggestive fics, so this is my first entry on that!!)

you, his pretty best friend who he's always been able to tell nearly everything to — everything except for the naughty stuff, the kinks and the turn-ons that he keeps firmly clutched to his chest every time you try to teasingly weasel one out of him.

he has no idea how you can be so casual about that stuff with him, tossing out a joke about the last blowjob you gave while he sits red as a tomato at the mere thought, and as a result he's left with the burning question:

why is it only you that makes me feel this way?

but there's no time to think about that right now as he sits on the edge of your bed, waiting expectantly while you pull your phone out of your back pocket.

one of the things you and soobin had first bonded over was your mutual love for anime, so when you’d told him recently that you want to try cosplaying for the first time at this year's comic con, he readily agreed to be the beta viewer for your costume;

you had already taken the test pictures of yourself as yor from spy x family (merely hearing which character it was had him swallowing hard to begin with) and you're ready to sit down and show him when suddenly the stove timer beeps from the kitchen.

"ah right, the ramen. here - you can just look through them all. let me know what you think i should change!"

"alright," he calls after you as you hand him your phone and skip off to the kitchen.

his heart thumps in his chest the second he sees you in costume, scrolling slowly through the pictures you took, fingers hovering over the screen with the guilty temptation of zooming in a little on your peeking cleavage — shaking his head to himself as if to clear the thought away before scrolling on to the next.

but his brows raise subconsciously the longer he swipes as your poses seem to grow more and more.. he gulps.. provocative....

soobin freezes.

he blinks. once, twice- three times-

"f-fuck."

he stares wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the sight in front of him, a sight he never thought he'd ever get to see, his mind going blank as all of his blood rushes immediately straight down to his cock.

your body,

your naked body,

displayed on the screen in his hands.

you had removed the dress with nothing underneath, still clad in the thigh-high leather heels and golden headpiece, his eyes wandering hungrily over your figure despite every moral warning bell in his head telling him to quickly scroll away.

but instead he swipes to the next one, and your tits- god, your tits- he has to stop himself from groaning as the next picture has you leaning forwards, breasts pushed together deliciously as your tongue sneaks out to trace the fake golden dagger in your hand, and soobin's head is reeling.

he shouldn't be looking at his best friend this way, at these pictures that he clearly wasn't meant to see, he knows it, but.. soobin has obviously been lying to himself for more than a little too long as he swipes and swipes, dizzy as he reaches the end and finally forces himself to turn your phone off, gaze trailing down to the rock-hard bulge in his pants.

he doesn't even have time to wonder how to hide it or what he should do when you come back before he's suddenly jumping out of his skin at the sound of your panicked voice as you rush down the hallway, yelling,

"WAIT! SOOBIN, WAIT!"

he's like a deer caught in headlights as you burst back into your room, quickly coming to the accurate conclusion of what happened as he stares up at you with wide, panicked, guilty eyes, posture stiff and face redder than you've ever seen it before.

even if he were to try sputtering through a poorly executed excuse, he can’t; soobin is speechless.

"um....... okay. so, i.. forgot.. that those were in there."

and as if the fact that you're speaking to him suddenly gears his brain back into motion, soobin's mouth becomes a motor as words fly out of it faster than you even have the chance to answer them.

"i-i’m so sorry, oh my god, i shouldn't have looked! i mean- i- ok, fuck i-i looked, i'm so sorry i swear i'll just forget this ever happened and never talk about it again a-and i'm not a pervert i promise and you can even hit me if you want and- uh, w-wait that's not what i mea-"

"soobin."

soobin shuts up.

he swears that you must be able to hear his heart banging against his ribage as his hands grip the material of his sweatpants, leg bouncing nervously, and he swears he's about to explode or cry or both when your eyes trail down to the impossibly large boner that he forgot to try covering.

(he would have failed anyway).

"soobin..."

his eyes snap back up to yours. something in your tone has shifted and he's not sure what, but...

he inhales shakily as you step closer. the look on your face has his cock throbbing in his pants.

"soobin, do you want me to put the costume on?"

"w...w-what?"

you're so close that if you were to take one more step, you'd be standing right between his legs;

"i can put the costume on for you... and then, if you want..."

you lean in close to his ear.

"i'll let you take it off."

soobin is certain in this moment that he must have saved a nation in his past life to be sitting in this situation right now, as the strangled little moan that accidentally escapes past his lips causes your own to curl up into a smile —

it seems to you that you won't have to pine secretly over your best friend any longer as his hand tentatively comes up to caress your hip, and he breathes,

"yes, please."

──────────────────────

— taglist: @razsberrie, @saejinniestar, @hyukalyptus, @florestalio, @beomiracles, @kiss4baku, @kejingken