#sungho

“miss you,” he eventually says, after you’ve swallowed your last bite of milk and cornflakes.

“miss you too,” you answer softly, placing your finger against the screen like you can reach for him through the glass, “at least it’s easier when we do it like this.”

he laughs humorlessly, hovering his finger against his own phone in the same place as yours. the two of you watch each other breathe.

“i should go get ready,” you mumble.

“yeah,” sungho agrees, “i should i get ready for bed.”

but neither of you move, and sungho sucks in a breath in that way where he has something to say but is wondering whether he should say it.

“sorry about this,” he eventually settles on, “can’t believe i’m eating dinner and you’re eating breakfast.”

you watch him shift slightly - distances compressed into pixels and numbers through a screen.

“not your fault,” you say back, “timezones suck.”

“they do,” he agrees, nodding. he glances at the clock on the wall behind him through the screen.

“go get ready,” he reminds you, “you’ll be late.”

you sigh, drawing away from the phone, “okay, okay. sleep well?”

“always better when i’ve seen your face,” he says, and he can’t stop the smile tugging on his lips, “talk tonight?”

“tonight,” you promise.

#리우 RIWOO

“babe, look!” you pull the phone away from your face as riwoo flips his camera around, the fireworks in view lighting up your dim room in bursts of colour and light.

“woah, pretty,” you breathe out, mesmerised by the rhythmic explosions of fireworks across your screen.

“right?” riwoo’s voice crackles over your speaker, “it’s the special version to celebrate new years! wish you were here to see it…”

your chest aches again - it’s always the same feeling that bubbles up with every wishing you were here you exchange with your boyfriend.

you pull the phone back towards yourself as riwoo flips the camera back around. you can see the fireworks reflected in his eyes as he looks up at the sky. his orange hair is slightly mussed, messy like he rushed out without bothering to fix it, and he’s wearing the hoodie you gifted him when you first started dating - the one whose hoodie has been chewed through by daebak.

“me too,” you admit softly, watching an amber firework fan out behind his head, casting shadows across his face, “but this is nice too. at least i get to see it.”

the phone shuffles on riwoo’s end, and he settles on some kind of bench, the camera jostles slightly in his hold before steadying.

“it's not the same though,” he says, but there’s no bitterness in it, “i want to hold your hand while we watch, and then i can give you my jacket when you feel cold.”

you laugh, a small, breathless sound, “you would be cold then.”

“we can share,” he dismisses, shrugging. you can hear the smile in his voice. the fireworks pause for a brief intermission and the call falls silent - stretched by the distance that’s actually between you two.

“tell me what it feels like,” you say suddenly, “out there.”

riwoo’s eyes drift as he thinks.

“cold,” he finally says, his eyes settling back onto your face glowing on his screen, “smells like grass. very smoky. a lot of people around. they need to start making phones that let you smell things - that way you could smell it yourself.”

you smile at his suggestion - at the way he’s trying to solve the unsolvable.

“well, until they invent that,” you say softly, “i guess i’m stuck with you describing it to me.”

riwoo shakes his head with a chuckle, “guess so.”

another firework blooms behind him, sparkling to life and painting everything gold. he doesn’t peel away from the phone to watch it, instead studying you watching him, and somehow that feels more important than the fireworks show behind him.

“stay on the call?” you ask, even though the sun is barely peaking over the horizon and you haven’t slept a wink.

“yeah,” he agrees immediately, shifting so you see the sky behind him - the best of both worlds, somehow compressed onto one small screen, “i’ll stay.” 

and so you do. you stay in the darkness of your room while he sits on that bench under the fireworks. he keeps talking - about the people around him, what he’s planning to do tomorrow, what he ate - and you listen.

this is enough, you think to yourself, watching the fireworks that blossom in his eyes and listening to his voice over the speaker of your phone.

it’s not the same as holding his hand, but for now, it’s enough.

#명재현 MYUNG JAEHYUN

“did you fall asleep?”

jaehyun’s voice jolts you out of your half-asleep state and you crack open an eye to see jaehyun sprawled across his bed, face cuddled up to the screen so much you can only see his eyes.

“no,” you clear your voice, “did you finish showering?”

“mhm,” jaehyun replies, “did i wake you up?”

you shake your head against your pillow, “i was waiting for you anyways.”

jaehyun’s eyes crinkle at the corners, and you know he’s smiling even if you can’t see the curve of his lips.

“you should sleep,” he murmurs softly - in the same tone he uses when he’s lying next to you in bed - soft and quiet, like he’s personally lulling you to bed. you smile at how he’s the same even though he’s no longer physically here, but oceans apart and existing together in the liminal space of a video call.

“not used to you not being here,” you finally admit, curling your hands into your blankets, “it’s cold.”

the confession slips out of you easily in the dark, and you shift onto your side, mirroring his position as your pillow smushes against your cheek.

there’s a pause on the other end - long enough you move to tap the screen just to make sure the call didn’t freeze. but then you hear him breathe: a soft, deliberate exhale.

“i know,” jaehyun whispers, his voice cracking slightly, like say it physically tears him apart, “i know, my love.”

he shifts backwards, and now you can see a bite more of his face - his damp hair, the way his skin is still flushed from the heat of the shower. he looks so warm, so fluffy, and completely out of reach through a glass screen.

“wish i could be there,” jaehyun continues quietly, his eyes never leaving yours, “wish i could just get in bed with you and keep you warm the way i’m supposed to.”

you giggle softly into your pillowcase, even though it’s tinged in regret and longing. you’ve had this conversation before - a million times - over the phone, in bed, when you’re just lounging on the couch; it never gets easier, the truth of what you’re both missing, what distance has taken from you. 

“you’re keeping me warm right now,” you finally say, “you’re here, aren’t you? even if it’s separated by a screen and oceans.”

“always,” jaehyun says immediately, “i’ll always be here.”

"then that enough for me," you say, "but you have to make it up when you get back."

jaehyun laughs softly, "i'll make it up and then some more."

he pulls his pillow closer, settling deeper into his bed, “go to sleep. i’ll be here when you wake up. same as always.”

he gives you that smile that always makes your stomach flutter and you give a smile back that’s probably overly giddy and dopey. you ask your heart to stop drumming so fast and settle back into your own pillows.

“goodnight,” you whisper.

“goodnight, my love.”

you blow a kiss through the screen and he catches it, placing a hand over the place where his heart is.

#태산 TAESAN

“so, what do you think? is it cute enough for dinner?”

you smooth down the skirt of your dress and try not to look awkward when presenting yourself to your boyfriend through the screen of your phone, stood up against your water bottle on the dresser.

“give me a twirl,” he demands, a hand over his mouth as he leans forward and squints at your outfit.

you do as he says, giggling to yourself as you do a slow twirl.

"sooo?" you tilt your head.

taesan shifts in his seat, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows harshly.

“yeah - um… it looks good. great, even.”

he bites his bottom lip and his voice drops to a lower octave, “wish i wasn’t in some stupid hotel on the literal other side of the planet right now. you look way too cute.”

you laugh again, turning back to the mirror as you tug on the hem again, “you’re just saying that.”

“i’m not,” you can hear the pout in his voice, “stop playing with it.”

you let your hands fall and regard yourself in the mirror - you think you look good - like you always do. you cock your head as you think about how taesan sees you, through his tiny phone screen, miles and miles away.

“you like me too much,” you eventually say, voice light and teasing.

“yeah, i do,” taesan’s voice is rough and unashamed, “come closer - to the camera.”

you hestitate, before taking a slow step towards your phone. his expression on your phone shifts - eyes darker as his jaws tighten.

“you’re doing this on purpose,” he breathes out.

“doing what?” you frown.

he lets out a breath that’s sounds like a laugh.

“cancel dinner.”

your breath stutters, “taesan -”

“i’m serious,” his voice is rough now, quieter, “cancel it and talk to me properly. take the phone back to your bedroom.”

the way he says bedroom makes your stomach dip.

you reach out slowly and pick up your phone, carrying it toward the bedroom as you try not to steal too many glances at him. but you can see him following the movement on his screen, tracking you, and he doesn’t say anything at all - just sits back and watches as you nearly drop your phone in anticipation.

you sit on the edge of the bed, fiddling with your phone until both you and your sheets are in sight.

he breathes quietly, and gives you a dangerous, patient smile.

“good girl,” he says softly, “now - show me what else you’re wearing.”

#이한 LEEHAN

“kim leehan!” you shriek, slapping your palms over your eyes, “i’m not going to watch you shower!”

leehan stops, his shirt halfway off. he drops his shirt as he pads over back to his phone propped up against a wall of the bathroom.

“but you said you’d stay on call with me!” he pouts, his eyes wide as he drinks in your flustered state.

“well, yeah!” you fan yourself with a hand, your eyes still squeezed shut, “but not like this!”

“it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before,” leehan blinks.

“it’s different!”

“how is it different?”

“because -” you splutter, “because it’s different! you give me a warning!”

leehan tilts his head, like he’s genuinely confused and you’re the one being unreasonable and demanding, “i thought the shower running was the warning.”

“that’s not -” you press your palm harder against your eyes, “that’s not a warning! i didn’t know you were gonna take your shirt off!”

he laughs, in that bright & easy way that makes it very difficult to be mad at him. you hear the soft thud of his shirt hitting the floor through the phone speakers.

“okay, okay,” you can hear the grin in his voice, “i’ll keep the curtain closed, happy?”

“just tell me when you’re done!” you yell, eyes closed.

there’s a brief moment of silence and you hear the swish of his shower curtains opening and drawing shut.

“done,” leehan’s voice is still teasing behind the curtain.

you crack open an eye cautiously and gasp.

“you lied to me!”

leehan is leaning against the bathroom counter, decidedly not behind a shower curtain, arms crossed and looking far too pleased with himself for someone who just ambushed and tricked you within the past five minutes. you can't help but gape at the scene on your screen, his hair tousled and shirt notably not on.

“i know you like what you see,” he teases and you splutter, peeling your eyes away.

“so what if i do? and - and that’s not the point!”

“what’s the point then?”

“the point is -” you search for the right words, “is that we have a system!”

“a system,” leehan muses.

“yes! you warn me and i - i look away… or don’t.”

he hums, tilting his head the other way, “so if i had said something like - hey, i’m about to shower, stay on call with me - you would’ve said that's fine?”

you open your mouth.

you close your mouth.

he raises an eyebrow, smug grin displayed over his face.

“... that’s not the point either,” you mutter defeatedly.

#운학 WOONHAK

“hehe, babe, look - you’re a potato!”

woonhak’s display jostles as he presses on the various filters on the app, cycling through turning you into potatoes, green screened into outer space, and ridiculous filters that make your eyes too big or forehead huge.

you try to muffle the laughter that escapes you, even as your face distorts into something ridiculous on the screen. the camera catches the way your eyes crinkle as you smile that even a filter can't wipe off.

“you are a very cute potato,” you tease woonhak as he bobs his head up and down to play with filter.

“you too,” woonhak replies. his grin grows wider as he clicks to another filter, this one giving both of you alien antennae.

you yawn involuntarily, all too aware of the time difference. woonhak’s afternoon bleeds into your midnight, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything else. the stolen minutes before his schedule picks up or yours does grows sparser by the day, and you cradle your phone like it’s your lifeline. 

“okay, one more before i go to bed,” you say quietly, careful not to tick off your flatmate sleeping next door. 

you see woonhak lean closer to his phone, only the top of his hair visible as you hear him tap the screen of his phone.

he finds one that gives you a flower crown and makes everything pink and sparkly.

“that’s how you look to me!” woonhak exclaims, far too proud of his confession.

“with a flower crown and pink sparkly aura?” you raise an eyebrow.

“yeah!” woonhak laughs, “whenever i look at you - it’s like you have an automatic filter in real life.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you say, but a smile dances on your lips and your chest squeezes - the kind that comes with missing someone in the best way.

“you just reduce me to some kind of idiot,” his expression softens as he looks at you through the screen.

you hold each other’s gaze until a notification pops up reminding you both that the call is still recording and you laugh again.

"i should sleep," you say mournfully.

"yeah," woonhak taps his screen, "it's late - you need to rest."

he watches as you finally place down your phone, next to your pillow as you lie back down.

“goodnight, hakie,” you murmur.

“goodnight, beautiful. dream of me,” he replies.

neither of you move to hang up just yet, content with letting the seconds run out until sleep claims you or his schedule catches up.

inspired by that one picture woonhak posted of him and taesan lmao exposing myself as a hsm fan... somehow wrote this in like an hour WOW i am lonely.

♡ or ↻ if you enjoyed, support your writers, thank you!! what did you think? drop your thoughts in my inbox!

sungho: he’s lowkey into it. like you’re standing there all flustered, arms crossed, giving him attitude over something small, and he’s fighting back a grin the whole time. “you’re really mad about that?” he teases, voice dipping just enough to make your stomach flip. when you roll your eyes and tell him yes, he steps closer, backing you into the counter. “then maybe you should punish me, huh?” and suddenly his hands are on your hips, thumbs rubbing slow, lazy circles while his eyes drag down to your lips. it’s not even an apology anymore. it’s him trying to distract you, whispering, “still mad?” right before his mouth brushes your neck.

riwoo: he gets flustered as hell. you’re glaring at him and he’s stammering out, “i- i didn’t mean to-” like a kicked puppy. he’ll follow you around the room, trying to explain himself, but the more annoyed you act, the redder he gets. “you look kinda hot when you’re mad, though,” he mumbles without thinking, and immediately regrets it when you shoot him a look. cue him panicking and then shyly offering to “make it up to you somehow,” his voice tiny and hopeful. if you keep ignoring him, he’ll end up wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder and whispering, “please don’t be mad anymore, baby…”

jaehyun: you being mad over something small just amuses him. he leans back in his chair, arms crossed, watching you rant like it’s the best entertainment he’s had all day. “you’re cute when you’re mad,” he says with a smirk that makes you want to throw something. he’ll drag out his apology on purpose, just to see how long you’ll stay pissed. when you huff and turn away, he’ll stand, come up behind you, and murmur, “didn’t mean to make my girl all worked up,” lips ghosting over your ear. his hands slide to your waist, grip tightening just enough to make you gasp. “maybe i should remind you how good i am at saying sorry.”

taesan: he gets so defensive at first, acting all cocky to hide that he feels bad. “you’re mad about that?” he laughs, but it’s nervous. when you ignore him, he gets quiet, hovering nearby like a guilty puppy. eventually he mutters a soft “okay, fine, i’m sorry,” and tugs you closer by your wrist. once you’re facing him, though, his tone shifts- softer, deeper. “don’t pout like that. it makes me wanna…” he trails off, letting his thumb brush over your lower lip. then he chuckles, pressing his forehead to yours. “maybe i’ll kiss it better?” and before you can respond, he does. slow, teasing, dragging the apology out between every breath.

leehan: he tries to reason with you at first, all calm and logical, but when you’re still mad, his patience melts into something darker. “you’re really gonna give me that attitude over this?” he murmurs, stepping closer until you’re caged between him and the wall. his voice drops low, his gaze lingering on your mouth. “you know i can’t take you seriously when you’re pouting like that.” it’s not that he’s ignoring your anger. he’s just turned it into something else entirely, something charged. one hand cups your jaw, thumb tilting your chin up. “say it again. tell me why you’re mad.” and when you do, he just smiles. slow, dangerous and says, “mm. that’s cute.”

woonhak: he’s a mix of shy and bold. first he’s apologizing nonstop, trying to explain himself, but when you keep huffing and ignoring him, he changes tactics. suddenly he’s pulling you close by your wrist, eyes glinting a little mischievously. “you’re mad at me, huh?” he whispers, voice lower than usual. he leans in until your noses almost touch, grinning when you try to back away. “you don’t look that mad now.” he’d brush his lips over your cheek, just barely. not quite a kiss, but enough to make you pause. “forgive me?” he’d ask, all innocent, but his fingers are already tracing down your waist like he knows you’re not really mad anymore.

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“you’re blushing,” he whispers, lips barely grazing your ear as you try to keep your face neutral. “are you falling for me already?”

cocky bastard.

jaehyun finds your reactions entertaining, but there’s a strange possessiveness in the way he glares at anyone who talks to you, or looks at you a bit too long. he nearly punches a guy trying to get your phone number, and when you call him out, he just shrugs, claiming that it “needs to be convincing.”

he takes you by surprise by remembering little things about you, how you take your coffee, your favourite snack. he brushes it off with a casual “a boyfriend would do this.” 

but the longer this goes on, the less it feels fake. you catch him staring when he thinks you’re not looking, his teasing flirty remarks losing its playfulness. 

“you know,” he says one day, his voice softer than usual. “i think I might've forgotten to pretend.”

park sungho

sungho hesitates when you first tell him your idea. you tell him it’s a great idea; fake dating so that you can get your ex boyfriend back, and he can get back his ex girlfriend. killing two birds with one stone, you say. sungho’s not too sure, but he gives in after some begging from your side.

sungho isn’t sure why, but the thought of pretending to be your boyfriend makes him unreasonably nervous. 

at first, he’s awkward–stuttering over pet names, clearing his throat when you hold his hand. but he still finds himself holding doors open for you, carrying your things without being asked, offering you his jacket when the weather gets chilly. the first time you kiss him, it’s on the cheek, and sungho practically freezes, ears tomato red as he tries his best to avoid your gaze. 

“we should practice more,” he says out of the blue one day. “it needs to be convincing.”

you’re quick to tell him that you’re already being convincing, that it’s him that’s the problem.

sungho’s careful with boundaries, always asking, ‘is this okay?” before touching you in any way. but then things start shifting, there’s no denying it. he texts you good morning without thinking, lingers a little too long after fixing your scarf, gets defensive when someone asks about your relationship. 

park sungho doesn’t realise he’s falling until it’s too late.

“i don’t want this to be fake anymore,” he says one night, standing outside your door whilst fidgeting with his sleeves. “forget about my ex, i want you.”

lee sanghyuk

riwoo finds the whole situation really fucking funny. 

“fake dating? how desperately do you want that asshole back? yeah, i’ll do it, it’s gonna be so fun.”

yeah well, it's fun. for him.

from the moment you two announce your “relationship”, he plays it up like you’re in some kind of terribly cliche, terribly cheesy romance movie, throwing dramatic love confessions at random.

“my love, i would walk through fire for you!” he declares loudly in the school hallway, before snickering as you try your best to do damage control to no avail. 

riwoo’s constantly teasing, winking at you in class and whispering stupid things like, “careful, you might actually fall for me.” just to see your face redden in embarrassment. but then there are moments when he tones it down, and it’s a bit too natural–the way he rests his head on your shoulder when he’s tired, or the way his hand absentmindedly finds yours.

“why’re you blushing?” he teases, but he’s blushing too. 

the problem is, he never knows himself when he’s joking and when he’s being serious. he tells himself it’s just an act, just a way for you to get back your dickhead boyfriend who looks like a two out of ten. but he finds his heart stuttering when you look at him just right. 

and soon, riwoo finds himself wishing the act would never end. 

one day he turns to you, his usual stupid grin plastered on his face, but there’s something softer behind it. 

“so, uh, what if we didn’t stop fake dating?”

han dongmin

when you ask han taesan to be your fake boyfriend to make you ex jealous, he barely reacts. barely even raises his head, murmuring, “sure,” as if you just asked him to pass the salt. 

annoying little bitch.

but beneath his cool, nonchalant exterior (that’s what he thinks), his mind is racing.

he’s not the person for over-the-type gestures, but he shows affection in the smallest ways–remembering your favourite drink order, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, pulling you closer when walking near traffic. you applaud his for being boyfriend material and make a point to very loudly wonder why he’s never had a girlfriend before remembering, aha, his personality is shit.

han taesan insists he doesn’t care about pda, but if someone questions your relationship, he’ll kiss your cheek without a second thought. 

“see? believable.” he says, ignoring the way his heart is pounding. he does it so naturally that even he forgets it’s fake sometimes. he texts you late at night to check if you’ve eaten and gets irritated when other guys get too close. but taesan’s stubborn, and he spends most of his time gaslighting himself that he doesn’t like you like that, brushing it off as just an act. 

then one day, he catches himself staring, thinking how you look a little bit too pretty, hands itching to reach for yours. 

“you said i’m boyfriend material, right?” he asks, catching you by surprise.

“yeah sure.”

“ok, well how about you give up on your shitty ex and we date for real? i’m like, hotter than him too.”

kim donghyun

leehan takes the whole fake dating thing very, very seriously. when you tell him about your ideas, he looks more determined than you, face serious as he says, “if we’re going to do this, we really have to sell it.” you end up having to ask him if he has an ex girlfriend he wants back, because there’s no way he should be this invested in the whole plan.

he makes you practice with him; holding hands, casual touches, so it looks natural. but the more you two practice, the more it starts feeling real. he’s always respectful, never crossing boundaries and always asking if you’re comfortable. but he’s a little too good at being a boyfriend. he ties your shoelaces when they come undone, carries your bag without you asking and smiles at you in a way that makes your heart ache. 

“why’re you looking at me like that?” you ask one day when you catch him staring at you in the restaurant on one of your fake dates. 

leehan just grins. “because you’re cute.”

it’s moments like these that make you forget this isn’t real. but then he starts getting flustered–hesitating before calling you pet names, looking away too quickly when you catch him staring. he’s the first to realise his feelings, but it takes him forever to act on them.

one evening, he exhales deeply before turning to you. “so… what if we kept dating?” he asks, nervous but hopeful. “for real this time?”

kim woonhak

woonhak is way too excited to date you. yeah, it’s fake, but he’s still technically dating you. he’s already planning out cute couple photos. 

woonhak fully commits, calling you cute nicknames, being your personal hype boy, and practically beaming with excitement when you’re around.

you think he’s kind of cute.

“this is my girlfriend,” woonhak announces to everyone, holding your hand. “she’s so pretty isn’t she? yeah, well she’s super smart as well, and-”

he’s affectionate without realising–holding your hand, fixing your hair, resting his chin on your shoulder. it’s all a joke to him at first, but then he starts feeling weird.

why does his heart race when you smile at him? why does he hate seeing other people flirt with you?

“i’m not jealous,” he insists, but his pout says otherwise. 

one day, you joke about breaking up just to see his reaction, and he gasps dramatically.

“if we ‘break up, i’m keeping the dog we don’t have.” 

but behind the playful tone, there’s real fear. he’s known for a while now, this isn’t fake to him anymore. one evening, as you’re walking home together, he suddenly blurts out, “wait, you didn’t know? i fell for you ages ago.”

Jaehyun

He notices almost immediately and turns it into an excuse to tease you.

He might stand in front of you and compare his hands with yours just to annoy you.

He likes leaning down a little when he talks to you, getting closer than necessary.

Sometimes he rests his arm on top of your head or your shoulders just because it’s so easy to do.

But when he gets a little more serious, he’ll hug you easily and murmur, “You’re small.”

Leehan

At first he doesn’t notice at all.

Then it happens in a specific moment, like watching you try to reach something high.

He pauses for a few seconds, processing the difference.

Then he quietly steps closer and grabs it for you without saying much.

Later he might mention it casually, like a recent discovery: “I didn’t realize you were this small.”

Taesan

He notices suddenly when you’re standing very close to him, maybe during a conversation or when you lean toward him to say something.

His gaze drops and he realizes how easily his body could cover yours.

The realization makes him a little too aware of the difference, so he tries to act normal.

He might go quiet for a few seconds longer than usual before speaking.

Then he says quietly, almost to himself, “You’re smaller than I thought.”

Riwoo

He notices when you’re standing next to him and your head only reaches a certain point on his shoulder or chest.

His reaction isn’t teasing, just a small smile.

After that he becomes a little more careful about how he moves around you.

In crowded places he might naturally position himself slightly in front of you.

If someone mentions the difference, he just says softly, “Yeah… she’s small.”

Woonhak

He probably notices in a very dramatic way.

He might stand in front of you just to compare heights.

Then he realizes how obvious the difference actually is.

He makes playful comments like, “Wait! You’re way smaller than I thought.”

“Dude, what the actual fuck—?!” Jaehyun gasps as he jumps out of his own skin, the wooden table under him still vibrating from the force of Sungho’s fork being stabbed into it. 

Sungho glares. He's been glaring for some time now, and not at Myung Jaehyun, but at the spot behind him—using the gap between his ear and his shoulder as a sniper scope. Straight at you. 

Jaehyun swivels around, following his line of sight.

He takes in the view of you silently eating your tray of food, slipping a piece of broccoli into your mouth as you read the book propped up next to it. When Jaehyun eventually turns around to look at Sungho, he's wearing a face of exasperation. “Not this again. Dude…”

“Number 2,” Sungho huffs out heavily, chest rising and falling in rapid fiery breaths. “I'm number two in my class…again.” 

“That's not bad.”

Sungho switches his maniacal glare towards him, making Jaehyun blanch like a ghost. He flails to fix his mistake but the blond is quicker to launch at his throat, “Not bad? …Not…Bad…???” He lets out a crazed laugh, one that won't sound out of place at a mental institution, making Jaehyun squirm in his place. “I have done everything right—I rewrote all my notes, I memorised the shit out of the additional readings… Hell, I even stopped showering for a week just to have more time to study for exams!” 

“Yeah, we needed to stage an intervention for that, remember?”

“I deserve that spot,” Sungho ignores him pointedly. “Why does she hoard it like a mole, can't she let up at least once?? It's been like ten years.”

“She’s more like a squirrel if anything, look at her,” Jaehyun gestures towards how you've been chewing the same thing for the past five minutes, cheeks all puffed out, too engrossed in your reading. “And, it's you that decided to go to the same university as her… Even when you got offers from literally all your top options.”

“That's—” Sungho’s words die on his tongue. He isn't going into the psychoanalysis of why he'd chosen to follow his sworn enemy into the battlefield again, after losing over and over for all of his school years. “I need to do something about this. I'm not gonna lose to her again.”

“Right.”

“I need a game plan.”

“Right.”

There's a menacing glint in Sungho’s narrowed cat-like eyes, duckling yellow hair falling across it to make him look like he's trying very hard and looking intimidating, and failing every bit of the way. But the resolve in his voice is sharp when he says, “L/N Y/N, you are going down.” 

Even if that means he might potentially be dragged down with you. 

SUNGHO'S FOOLPROOF STEPS TO CLIMB TO #1

Step 1: Find the target, then lock the fuck in. 

The clock ticks like a time-bomb about to explode any second, the hands on the dial moving with the pulse of his heart, his fingers tightly clasped within each other on the table. 

His eyes flicker between the wall and the door, maniacally—he’s early by thirty minutes and the waiting might just kill him before the looming disappointment of Rank 2 does. But this is all part of the plan. If he wants to finally shake off the jinx of the second spot (ugh, even thinking those words makes him want to punch a pillow), then he needs to follow through without making mistakes. 

The door finally clicks open and his heart finally soars, excitement building as your figure comes into view. 

You're the same as always: loose, plain clothes, the same half-open backpack hanging off a shoulder, hair a quick work of being pulled together by what appears to be just your fingers. A mess, he would say. Nothing like him. 

And it pisses him off, yeah. Because here is a disaster of a human being somehow doing better than him at what should be his forte. He's the one that spends hours poring over notes and utilising every resource he can get his hands on, going as far to hunt down the hard-to-access ones as well. He's the one that had a carpal tunnel for a month from non-stop typing. He's the one that has to hide his horrific eyebags under makeup in case he ends up spooking another child on the street into crying because they thought they'd seen a ghost. He's the one who works hard, who sticks to his regimen, who never crosses the lines he's drawn for himself, sticking within the confines of rules and propriety.

He's the one that cares. 

You—you don't give two shits about whether you do well or not, but you still somehow just win. 

And the worst thing is that you don't even seem like you're aware of this game you're playing. You're just swinging through life with no stress and still acing every bit of it. 

Sungho loathes it, but because he has ulterior motives (he's not evil, he swears), he plants the best and sugar-sweetest smile he can muster and calls for you. “Y/N, hey!” He grins, waving at you. “I saved you a spot.”

Your shoes scuff on the tiles as you stop walking to stare at him in confusion, a hint of a knot at your forehead. Then your eyes move from him to the empty space he's gesturing at next to him. “Huh?” 

“Come on!” he chimes happily (he's dying inside). “I won't bite.” (Oh yes he will, he so will.)

There's hesitation in your movements, but you've always been too shy to say no, he is aware of that and is shameless enough to monopolise on that fact. 

The second you sit down, you have stepped into the devil’s territory. Poor, poor you. Unaware of his clever schemes, totally clueless that you're about to hand over that first place as though under a spell. Because, guess what, Park Sungho, while the perfect student, is also a perfect campus heart-throb. He's shot many an unsuspecting passerby with the cupid's arrow, doing nothing but existing in all his angelic, golden haired (dye-job but it counts, okay?), feline-natured glory. 

He just has to distract you with his manly wiles until you forget how to study. That's the plan. 

“Oops,” he says as soon as you sit down to prepare for the class, checking your watch for when the professor will arrive. Other students have already started flocking in. “Ah, I think I dropped a pen,” Sungho feigns innocence, searching the floor for the pen he'd discreetly flung down a minute ago.

“Oh!” You’re immediately eager to help, shooting a hand down to scamper for his pen. 

But Sungho is clever; he does the same thing, and before your fingers can grab hold of the pen, his palm grazes yours, sending a tingle up your skin.

You slowly look up, and he does too, leading from the point where you touch to the gentle dips of your cheek, then to the sparkle in your eyes. 

Your eyes sparkle? That's new information... 

“Uh,” he whispers accidentally, but is quick to reel it back with a small cough and a polite smile. “Thanks.” He crinkles his eyes on purpose. 

He’s expecting you to blush. Or flounder for words awkwardly or topple over with the shock of how pretty he is. 

Unfortunately, none of those scenarios happen. You actually shoot him a blinding smile and return right back to your seat, opening up your work. 

And…

Sungho is the one to sit there flabbergasted at the turn of events. Because he hadn't expected you to be nice like that.

Or for your smile to be so…pretty.

Ew, no—! No no no, he does not think your smile is pretty, he’d meant to think petty—that’s it! Ha ha… Yeah…

Ahem.

It doesn't end there, he hasn't forgotten his mission to capture your heart just yet. There are still steps and sub-steps to follow, and he will do just that. A momentary lapse of his brain is nothing that can hold him back. 

So he doubles down on the efforts in the coming days: he brings you an extra cup of coffee for the 8 AM lectures, he offers to hold your bag for you when he sees you roll your shoulders with a pained sigh, he even brings a hairclip for you on the days you forget to brush your hair and need to keep it out of your eyes. 

It's a little counterproductive maybe—your focus definitely improves when you're hydrated and taken care of—but he is playing the long game here. A tiny lift of your spirits before it eventually plummets into the depths of hell, right into his opportunistic hands. 

You don't blush still, but you smile a lot more. When he gets you a slice of strawberry cake as a sweet treat after a test, you return the favour by paying for lunch. You eat together now, Jaehyun needing to find a new eating buddy because Sungho cannot get distracted by his dumb jokes while he's seducing you into failing. He splits his free time into studying, drawing up new and exciting methods to befriend you even further, and then preparing for these mini hangouts he's orchestrated. 

Everything is going swimmingly well. 

Step 2: Do not—absolutely never ever—get sidetracked. 

The ice cream shop is a quaint building at the corner of campus, with white bricks for walls and vanilla circling the air. The ideal spot for a romantic endeavour.

And Sungho is deviously romantic, of course. He's still stuck below you on the rank sheet, but the gap isn't all that big. It doesn't hurt him the same anymore. Just makes him determined to knock you off your throne. 

“Hmm…which flavour?” you ask, blinking at the shiny glass display holding a trillion different shades of ice cream. 

Sungho has to be a gentleman. So he says, “Anything you choose,” and he does it with a soft smile and lovesick eyes. (He practiced that morning in the mirror and almost fell in love with himself; it's a guaranteed trap.)

Your face breaks out in a happy grin, hair loosely falling along your cheek. It's a nice view—he has to admit—for how long he's known you from afar all these years, it's strange to see you up this close, with a smile that's admittedly very beautiful in the objective, factual, scientific sense. He's only agreeing with the voice in his head because he is after all, a scientific man, not for any other reason. 

Eventually you settle on a rocky road (he'd predicted this to be honest, you've got a raging sweet tooth), and end up with a wonky cone with two scoops bulging out of it. 

“You really like it, huh?” he chuckles at the way you eat it like a little kid would, with stars in your eyes. 

You nod shyly, twirling it around in your hand. “It's yummy. I had it a lot while I used to pull all-nighters in high school.”

“Yeah? Is that why you'd show up in the morning looking like a bird made a nest in your hair?” he teases, and he's met with a pout that makes him laugh at your reaction. “Sorry, sorry, just kidding. It wasn't that bad.” He holds his hands up in surrender, still grinning. 

It's a slow morning. There aren't any classes until noon, and the air is thick with the scent of spring—birds singing up on treetops, the lawn plush and green with rose bushes lining the curbs. Perfect romantic weather for a romantic scheme. 

Sungho is savouring the cup of vanilla in his hand when he looks up to see a tiny spot of brown at the corner of your lips. 

You haven't noticed yet, too engrossed in your own ice cream, and well—he tells himself it's just the messiness of it that bothers him. Not the way it mars your nice lips, no way. And his hand just moves on its own because he's always had a good instinct for cleanliness, not because he wants to touch you. 

But your eyes widen just the tiniest amount when soft skin thumbs at your face, swiping away the sweetness there. He watches closely, watches every minor change in your expression—the soft blinks, the stillness of your breathing, the way you have a gentle pink running up your cheeks.

His brain wants to scream jackpot! It wants to celebrate the victory of getting you to blush, of finally tripping you over into his metaphoric claws. 

But…

But why the fuck is his own face also heating up like a furnace?! 

He feels like he has a fever, a terrible affliction that causes his heart to run a mile a minute and for his mouth to stop working. Was he dying? Was he going insane? 

His thoughts only come to a swerving stop when you regard him with a sunny smile and say, “Thanks.” 

Thanks for what, really? He wonders. But he's quick to bury those complicated musings in favour of changing a steady mantra of ‘remember the plan, the plan, the plan, the plan—’, until he tunnel-visions and sees nothing but the score sheet pinned up on the bulletin in front of the lecture hall. 

Sungho does not stop until he's back in the safety of his dorm, having faked a stomach ache to run here before his next class—until he's splattered water into his face and climbed into bed without even changing out of his outside clothes, like a madman. Today marks the first day he's ever skipped a class. 

But it’s of no help at all, because he still ends up having a nightmare of your face giddy with happiness, and he burns like a fire the whole time he dreams. 

Step 3: Sympathy is for losers. Do not ever take pity on your enemy; it's a trap. 

The score sheet flutters from the draft through the window, the pale sun cutting dull lines across your name, and his right below.

Sungho tightens his fist, his jaw clenched in fury. At himself, not at anyone else. He's tried to do it this time, really pushed himself beyond what he thought was even possible. But it's of no avail when you've managed to secure the top marks again. 

“Oh,” he hears your voice from behind him, a small sound that he only picks up through the ruckus of students from how often he spends listening to it these days. 

When he turns back, he expects you to smile at him, maybe even give him a victory hug the way you do these days. But all he sees is the thin line of your mouth and the empty void in your stare. And…tears? 

“Hey,” he begins, instinctively on edge from worry. He doesn't even make it to you before you've schooled your expression into apathy, a robotic reaction so different from what he'd just caught a glimpse of before. He pushes forward anyways. “Come with me,” he says softly, wrapping a hand around your wrist and getting you through the crowd. 

You follow him quietly until he's found an empty lecture room, closing the door behind him and leading you over to the elevated stage in front. 

“Look at me,” he coaxes, gently bringing your gaze to meet his, with a soft palm guiding your cheek. “What's up, hm?”

“Nothing.”

It's a typical answer he'd have expected from you maybe some months ago and wouldn't have back an eye at back then. But now—now it feels odd. Like you're hiding so much and he’s only learnt to read past your mask, still in the process of figuring the meaning behind your little quirks. 

He knows you fiddle with pencils when you're nervous, that you twirl your hair when you're shy, the way you sometimes space out into distances when you're pondering something, when you're digesting a paragraph before it makes sense to you. And now, there's a tension in your shoulder that he knows is none of those things. 

“You can tell me anything, I won't judge,” he says, and it sounds true to his own ears for once. For once, he isn't lying. 

You open your mouth to deny, but you must be holding a lot in that a sharp, pained gasp escapes instead, and years begin to well up past your waterline before you've readied yourself to fight it. 

“I—” you try, and it tapers off into a choked sound when Sungho’s palms hold you with even more tenderness. “I’m not…I don't deserve it,” you confess into the air like it's a secret you've kept forever.

It doesn’t make complete sense to Sungho, but the one thing that he can say with his whole heart now is that if there is anyone that deserves all the good things in the world, it’s you. He’s been looking your way forever now—how could he not see how much soul you pour into your work… How dedicated you are and how diligent you are. He’s been envious of that talent of yours to absorb material like you’ve breathed in all the details and then recollected every bit of it on a test paper, but right now, he can only admit that it doesn’t just sprout from nowhere—you’ve honed that skill to perfection by working hard. 

“You do,” he disagrees gently, brushing the corner of your lashes with his thumb. “You deserve all of it.”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing…I…” You sniffle. “I don’t want to complain, I feel like an ungrateful brat when I do.”

Sungho lets out a soft chuckle at your words. “You’re anything but that. You say sorry to furniture when you walk into them…and you always ask me questions more than you talk about yourself. Not an ungrateful bone in you, Y/N.”

“It’s just,” you suck in a breath, finally managing to stop the tears from flooding down your face, just for a second. “I keep working, over and over, day and night, but I don’t know why I do it…”

“Hm?”

“I just feel so…lost…sometimes.”

Oh. 

Oh… Sungho realises a lot at that moment. Most of all, how he’d really chalked you up to be this superheroic entity that couldn’t feel more than just happiness and apathy. After all, you’re just a person. You’re just like him. Someone who is wandering life without having figured it all out. 

“I try so hard but I never know what I’m doing it all for and…today I just…I don't know, it's so stupid,” you bite back your sobs,body quivering from how tightly you hold yourself together, afraid of breaking apart. “I don't even like seeing my name up there anymore. It just reminds me I’m faking it all.”

“Who cares?” 

Your eyes flicker up to meet his, a little shocked, somewhat confused. “Huh?” 

Sungho shakes his head at how cute you look, all red and puffy-cheeked. “Who cares if you're faking it or not? I'm proud of you for getting that top spot again, and you should be too. I like how smart you are and how capable you are and how you never let it get to your head,” he says softly, in a voice reserved just for you. “Couldn’t be me.”

His funny smirk pulls an unexpected laugh out of you, even though it's tinged with the remnants of your tears. “Hey, look at that, you're laughing!” he teases, pushing your hair out of the way to get a better look at your pout. “How could someone so smart be so cute… It's unfair, honestly.”

It's too late when he realises he's said the last part out. It only occurs to him when you reply with, “You're only saying that because you're my boyfriend.”

…

Sungho stops breathing. 

Huh…?

Boyfriend?

You're unaware of how wide his eyes have gotten and how he resembles a fish letting out bubbles through its mouth right now. “I actually have thought of giving up this whole thing y’know—drop out of school and waste everything I’ve worked towards, because sometimes it feels like a race with no end and I’m just moving because I have to…” You press your forehead against this chest, leaving wet splotches of tears on his shirt. “But seeing you study with so much ambition…it makes me want to try just as hard. I like that we're always together on the grade sheets. It's not as hard when I’m not alone.”

And fuck, oh fuck, Sungho is late to so many realisations today. For someone who prides himself on his brilliance, he is so, so stupid.

“I'm your boyfriend,” he says out loud, the factual truth of the universe. “You're my girlfriend.”

The sun rises in the east. It sets in the west. Myung Jaehyun is annoying. The outings you go on are not schemes—they’re dates—the very real kind. You are smart. You are his girlfriend. Objective truths that not even his mouth has an argument for. 

“Yeah,” you look up at him, all the wonders of the world shining in your eyes. God, you're so pretty. He's blushing like the embarrassment he is, completely ashamed that it's taken so long for him to figure this out. “Aren't we?” you ask.

Beyond all the shameful musings, Sungho is not one to let go of a good thing that's happened to him. He's not an ungrateful idiot, just an oblivious one. 

“We are,” he nods feverishly, matching the red of your skin. “I'm so happy that we are. I don't even care that you beat me to pulp on our exams anymore.”

This garners a giggle from you; you probably think he's joking, but he's dead serious when he says it. He doesn't give two shits that the scheme has backfired and instead of making you fall for him, he's done the exact opposite. And maybe, maybe he's been in love for as long as he's known you—just that he'd taken his unending interest in you as spite and not what it really was. A crush. A stupid, one-sided crush he’d never managed to put out. 

“We haven't even had our first kiss though,” he ends up blurting out, watching you melt into his hands. 

You must be dead set on surprising him today, because even though he comments with no intention to coax you into one, you pull him closer to press your lips against his, a clumsy but sweet kiss landing against the corner of his mouth. It's so quick, but it still manages to pull a whimper out of him. 

“Now we have,” you reply, coy and soft.

“That was just a victory kiss. For demolishing the exams again,” he tosses back. “Give me another.”

“For what?”

“For buying you ice cream all the time, duh.”

He half expects you to push him away, but in a second, your lips are back on his, slower than before. He takes it as a sign to return the favour, and the classroom melts away in your peripheries. 

In his head, Sungho makes a correction to the principles he's lived by until now, scratching out his not-so-successful plan with an imaginary red pen—because Park Sungho is no longer just a man of routine, he's a man in love.

Step 3: Sympathy is for losers. Do not ever take pity on your enemy; it's a trap. 

And then, in its place, he makes a correction—a reminder for future-Sungho. Something like a promise. 

Step 3: Fall in love with your rival. Then ask her to marry you one day. 

He seals it with another kiss. 

a/n: hope this was a fun little read for everyone and that it warms your heart/made it laugh as much as it made me happy to write it. for everyone dealing with exams right now, remember to take it easy and know that things always end in happiness despite the road-bumps you may experience on the way. and for fae, i hope you don't stress yourself out too much because we're all rooting for you and will be there for you whenever you want to unload your worries <33

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