#sungho ff

There’s no space left.

No air.

Just heat.

Leehan’s hand slides into your hair, tilting your head to the side as his mouth finds your neck. He doesn’t ease into it this time. His lips press hard, teeth grazing before he sucks a mark into your skin like he wants it to last. A broken sound slips from you immediately, and Sungho’s chest rumbles with a low hum of approval behind you.

On the other side, Sungho’s mouth claims your throat with slower precision. He doesn’t rush, but he doesn’t hold back either. His lips drag downward, open and warm, before his teeth scrape lightly along your pulse point. His hands settle on your hips, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp.

You’re caught.

Held.

Completely owned in that moment.

Leehan lifts his head only to capture your mouth, and the kiss is brutal in its hunger. His lips crash against yours, tongue sweeping in without hesitation. It’s messy, desperate, almost feral. His hands grip your waist and pull you hard against him, and the friction makes your knees threaten to buckle.

Sungho doesn’t let you fall.

His arm snakes around your stomach, holding you upright as his other hand slides higher, spanning your ribs. His mouth finds your jaw, then your neck again, biting softly before soothing the sting with his tongue. The contrast between them is dizzying—Leehan taking, Sungho claiming.

You can’t breathe properly.

Whenever Leehan pulls back, Sungho steals your mouth. The second Sungho releases you, Leehan is there again. They don’t give you a second to think. Your head spins as their kisses overlap, clash, consume.

Leehan’s hands wander boldly, gripping your thighs and dragging you closer, forcing your hips to roll against his. The movement pulls a helpless moan from you, swallowed instantly when Sungho turns your face and kisses you deep, slow, suffocating. His tongue moves with maddening control, like he’s savoring the taste of your desperation.

Your fingers claw at them—one hand fisting into Sungho’s shirt behind you, the other gripping Leehan’s shoulder. It’s too much. Their mouths, their hands, their bodies pressing in from both sides. Heat coils tight in your stomach, sharper now, heavier.

Leehan breaks the kiss only to trail his mouth down your throat, sucking bruises into your skin without apology. His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing deliberately over sensitive spots that make you arch forward.

Which only pushes you harder into Sungho.

He exhales against your ear at the contact, low and satisfied. His hips press forward slowly, deliberately, and the friction makes your legs tremble. His hand leaves your waist to cup your jaw, tilting your face back so he can watch your expression unravel.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice dark.

Leehan groans softly at the sight too, his forehead pressing briefly against yours before he bites your lower lip and pulls. You whimper, breath stuttering, and they both react instantly—tightening their hold, closing in further.

You’re completely surrounded.

Their hands grow more demanding. Leehan grips your hips and rocks you against him with more force now, controlled but unrelenting. Sungho’s fingers trace slow paths along your torso, dipping just enough to make your breath hitch, then sliding away before you can chase the touch.

It’s deliberate torture.

They know exactly where to touch.

Exactly where not to.

Your thoughts blur entirely. There’s nothing left but sensation—the drag of lips over your skin, the scrape of teeth, the press of their bodies boxing you in. The room fills with uneven breaths, quiet groans, and the slick sound of kisses that are far too deep.

When you whisper their names, it comes out wrecked.

Leehan kisses you again, slower this time but somehow even more intense. His tongue moves against yours in a rhythm that makes your stomach twist painfully. His hand slides lower, squeezing your thigh hard enough to make you gasp into his mouth.

Sungho’s lips trail down your neck to your shoulder, biting, sucking, marking you as if he wants proof of this later. His hands roam with heavy confidence, thumbs digging into your hips to hold you steady while he grinds against you from behind in slow, punishing strokes.

Your legs shake openly now.

You press back into Sungho, forward into Leehan, chasing more without even realizing you’re doing it. You’re desperate for friction, for pressure, for something to snap the tight coil in your stomach.

“Please,” you breathe, barely coherent.

Leehan laughs under his breath—low, almost cruel. “Please what?”

You can’t answer properly. You just whimper.

Sungho’s fingers tighten at your waist. He leans down, lips brushing your ear. “You’re so sensitive tonight.”

The words alone nearly undo you.

Leehan’s hand slides up your side again, teasing, hovering, never quite giving what you need most. His mouth moves to your throat, sucking harder this time until you gasp sharply.

The tension spikes so suddenly it almost hurts.

Your body feels like it’s vibrating, every nerve lit up and straining. You’re right there—balanced on the edge, ready to fall.

And then—

They stop.

Completely.

Leehan’s mouth lifts from your skin. Sungho’s hands go still. The friction disappears so abruptly you nearly stumble.

They hold you for one suspended second longer, just enough to let the loss sink in.

Then they step back.

The cool air hits your flushed skin, and the absence of their touch feels louder than anything that came before. You sway slightly, breath ragged, lips swollen, neck marked in blooming shades that will darken by morning.

They look at you like they’re proud of the destruction.

Leehan runs his thumb lightly over your bottom lip, almost gentle now. Sungho’s gaze drags down your body, slow and assessing, like he’s memorizing every tremble.

You’re still shaking.

Still aching.

And they know it.

Leehan presses one last soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, deceptively sweet. Sungho leans in to brush his lips against your neck again, right over the most sensitive spot, making your breath hitch one more time.

Then they pull away fully.

Leaving you burning.

Leaving you wound tight enough that the tension hums under your skin like a live wire.

They don’t need to say anything.

The promise lingers in their eyes.

Later, when they finally decide you’ve had enough, they’ll finish what they started.

For now, they leave you trembling in the aftermath, every inch of you alive with need, knowing they’ve turned you into something desperate and breathless—and that they’ll make you beg for the rest.

© All rights reserved @gigisnextdoor 2026.

Sungho

Originally he invited you over to try out a new video game he got but neither of you thought that it will be so entertaining that you'll be at it for hours. First you were very calm about it, still figuring out how everything works but after you got into it, there was no stopping. You tried to accomplish more and more together in the game and playfully scolded each other when someone made a mistake. You had so much fun together that you didn't even realise how much time passed since you started. The sun slowly switched places with the moon and stars appeared on the dark sky one by one. When you noticed the time your were shocked about how long ago you started this game, but you didn't want to go home yet. So at the end you decided to turn this afternoon and evening spent together into a sleepover because you just didn't want to leave your boyfriend's side. Not tonight.

Riwoo

You planned a movie date for the evening at your place. What you didn't calculate with was the huge storm that decided to start right after he arrived and soon the electricity went off in the whole building thanks to that. So the movie date became impossible. You lit some candles to have something light up the place, it actually turned out pretty romantic. You ended up eating all the snacks you guys bought for the movie while waiting for the power to come back. After an hour or two everything went back to normal, the lamp working again, the tv turned on and the internet connection came back. However, Riwoo and you had so much fun doing nothing in the dim lights of the candles that movie night already became forgotten, you didn't want anything else than to just be with, and focus on each other. And maybe a little bit more snacks.

Jaehyun

Jaehyun is a weird guy. Everybody and their mother knows that. Therefore when he plans a date you never know what to expect. But something that you actually didn't expect was for him to put together the most romantic dinner ever known to mankind at his place. He put candles on the table, gave you your favourite flowers and cooked a delicious male by himself (or at least that's what he claimed). When you finished you didn't want to leave yet. It was a gesture that showed you how much he really loves and adores you and you didn't want this moment to end. So you just kept sitting at the table talking, really opening up to each other for hours straight. This was probably the point when both of you realised how serious you are about this relationship. And another thing that you realised that night was that Jaehyun can actually stay calm for more than an hour long.

Taesan

You were at his place, laying in his bed, cuddling. He hugged you so softly but still so close, your head on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat. It was calm. You made it calm. The same way he calmed you down. At that moment it didn't matter how stressful of a day you've had, how angry you were at the whole world just hours ago. But as soon as you were with him everything seemed to suddenly get better. And there you were, laying down with him as a calm melody was playing on his vinyl player. Words weren't needed in that moment. You were planning to lay there for a few minutes, but minutes soon turned into an hour and then more and more hours. "It's getting late" Taesan whispered to you "shouldn't you go home?" You looked up at him, right into those beautiful eyes of his, and said "right now all I want is to be with you"

Leehan

You know how much Leehan loves watching his fish even for hours straight. At first you didn't understand; how can someone be so entertained by some fish? they're not even doing anything special, just swimming around, how can someone just stare at them non-stop? But it seems like tonight you finally understood. Today was not just long but also really stressful for you and you didn't want anything else than just some comfort so you came over to your boyfriend's. After eating something the two of you just settled in front of his fish tank watching as the little animals swim around in the water. Your head resting on his shoulder, calmly breathing in and out, non of you breaking the silence. You didn't know how much time has passed since you sat down there but honestly, you didn't care. You felt closer to him than ever before, it gave you so much comfort, and all you did was watching some fish in the dim light.

Woonhak

tasks came flying in, one after another, making the days feel like a blur. but somehow, every minute in between felt painfully slow too. especially when you were stuck in the same room as sungho.

the two of you had finally stopped poking at each other’s work and egos, which sounded like progress, but it only made things stiff.

you worked on your parts. he worked on his. neither of you asked the other a single thing. no suggestions. no comments. just pure tunnel vision. the result? a project that looked like someone ordered pizza and chocolate and decided to shove both in the same box. individually fine. but confusing together.

but at least you survived. friday finally rolled in, and with it, the department’s outdoor team-building trip. finally a chance to breathe, laugh, maybe even touch grass without sungho breathing the same metaphorical air, or at least, that's what your pride said. and judging by the way sungho hadn't even glanced your way all morning, the feeling was all mutual.

still, somehow, you both ended up sitting side by side on the company bus. office etiquette had followed everyone. assigned desks turned into assigned seating arrangement of course.

you crossed your arms tightly, back stiff as you stared out the window, watching trees and street signs blur past like a moving painting. your bag sat firmly between you and sungho like a tiny boundary made of fabric.

sungho had done the same. only his bag was on top of yours. you side-eyed it, and pushed it down slightly. he side-eyed you, then pushing it back up. a few bumps, some elbow action.

he sat just as stiff. arms crossed, head leaned away, eyes glued to the opposite window like you were a disease he could catch through peripheral vision.

you kept your head tilted toward the glass, but your eyes shifted sideways. just as you started to glance at him, he did the same. you both snapped your heads forward like you'd just seen something cursed.

"what?" sungho muttered without looking at you.

"what what?" you shot back, rolling your eyes so hard it almost fell.

he exhaled loudly through his nose and made a dramatic show of crossing his arms tighter. his elbow bumping your arm. you narrowed your eyes and nudged him back just a bit harder.

he made a face. you made the same one back. you were five seconds away from turning the bus into a medieval mess when a voice cut in.

"all right, we're here!" sejeong chirped from the front, one hand gripping the overhead rail. supervisor yoo stood as well, clapping his hands once. "everyone, up! let's move!"

backs straightened instantly. bags were yanked up, slung over shoulders. chatter rose again as people filed off the bus like it was the first day of a school field trip.

you stood, brushing nonexistent lint from your pants as your sneakers hit the grass. the air was warmer than expected, the sun already peeking through thin clouds. you took a deep breath, and okay, fine. it did feel nice to be outside.

before you was a wide, open park. a field of green stretched in every direction. trees framed the area like nature's wallpaper, and dotted between them were colorful tents and foldable chairs from other people in the area. someone had brought bean bags. someone else had brought a guitar. sejeong's portable speaker was already blasting retro pop songs.

it was a total 180 from the gray cubicle maze you'd come from. even supervisor yoo looked more human today, swapping his leather shoes for sneakers and sunglasses.

"everyone, settle!" he called again, gesturing for people to gather. you squinted under the sun and adjusted your bag strap.

"this looks like it'll be fun," ningning said beside you, grinning as she carried a bright orange cooler in both hands.

you smirked. "i hope so." you dragged out the word, your eyes darting to sungho's back just a few steps ahead.

he was walking beside jisung, who was cheerfully pointing at a tree for no reason. sungho, meanwhile, looked like he was calculating how fast he could disappear into the area.

ningning followed your line of sight, then bumped her shoulder into yours. "yikes. still ice-cold?"

you sighed. "tell me about it."

you trudged along with the others, grass crunching under your shoes, the sun warming the back of your neck.

chairs clacked open, mats rolled out, and coolers landed with soft thuds on the grass. the lawn was starting to look like a summer camp. sunlight filtered through the trees in patches, and the air smelled like fresh grass, plastic packaging, and grilled food. the juniors moved fast, buzzing like worker bees—some excited, others clearly afraid of supervisor yoo’s sharp eyes andr clipboard.

sejeong moved through the field sharply, voice loud and cheery but with a bossy edge. she held a portable speaker in one hand and a long to-do list in the other, yelling directions around.

you stood off to the side, holding a folded table with ningning. the sun was warm on your back, and the table legs kept poking into your thigh.

"where does this go again?" you asked, shifting your grip.

"where the vibes are, apparently," ningning replied, pointing vaguely to a shaded spot under a tree. you both waddled over and dropped the table with a snap as the legs locked. you brushed your hands off, a small sense of pride.

"alright, next we need…" sejeong muttered as she paced nearby. "coolers lined up under the canopy, towels by the mats, drinks on the long table—oh! and where’s the blue tablecloth?"

"right here," came a voice from behind.

you turned around and instantly spotted sungho. standing a few feet away, holding a sky-blue tablecloth in one hand. you frowned as your eyes met. he sighed and lifted the tablecloth slightly toward you.

"you wanna do it?" he asked, already annoyed.

you walked forward, arms crossed. "move."

"i literally just offered—"

"then hand it over."

nearby, ningning pretended to organize the cooler while clearly watching with interest. she ducked her head to hide her grin and eventually, you yanked the cloth free and stomped toward the table. sungho followed a step behind.

"you’re putting it sideways," he said.

"i know what i’m doing."

"you sure? it’s crooked."

you slapped the table gently with your palm, smoothing the cloth out. "your eyes are crooked."

he let out a quiet breath and leaned across the table, pulling his end straight. the cloth stretched out neatly between you. you hesitated, then fixed your side to match.

the two of you stayed like that for a moment. heads bent down, hands still on the cloth, faces just a little too close.

you let go first, turning away. "there, perfect. happy?"

he cleared his throat. "not really, but sure."

you sneered, before you make your way to the coolers when you heard him behind you again. you crouched beside one, opening the lid and letting the cold air rush out. "do you not have anyone else to bother?"

"i’m on drink duty," he said flatly, kneeling beside you. his knees cracked as he lowered himself down.

the cooler was filled with ice, soda cans, and juice boxes. you started lining them up, making neat rows. he joined you without saying anything. every time your hands brushed by accident, you both pulled back quickly like magnets flipping poles. but neither of you moved away.

sejeong’s voice then suddenly rang out across the grass. "lunch time, gather up!"

everyone then shuffled under the canopy. foldable tables and chairs had been set up around. "food's here! help yourselves!" sejeong called out again cheerily, clapping her hands together.

every chair was quickly filling up. juniors clumped together in clusters. you spotted ningning waving from one table, but by the time you walked over, jisung had already sat down beside her, a space conveniently left empty beside—sungho.

you blinked, debating whether to take the L and sit with sejeong, but the thought of awkward hr small talk while chewing chicken skin felt worse.

so you sat. the second you settled in, sungho didn't look at you. didn't even flinch. he just took a careful sip of his cola and scrolled casually on his phone like you were background noise.

the lunch spread was perfect. metal food trays and plastic containers were laid out across the tables, and the aroma of fried chicken, soy garlic wings, and warm tteokbokki wafted through the area.

he didn’t announce it or make a face. just opened a cola can with that subtle hiss, and sipped as if this was just another lunch break in the office pantry.

it was quiet between you, but not peaceful. tense silence stretched like cling wrap. he didn’t glance at you, but you felt the weight of his presence, like static between two unplugged wires.

you focused on your paper plate, scooping some rice and eyeing the japchae across the table. the noodles shimmered with sesame oil. you stretched out your arm, chopsticks in hand, straining to reach the bowl without looking like you were trying too hard. a little more, just a bit more—

"don't pull a muscle."

sungho's voice cut through your concentration, low and dry.then, his arm reached past yours and grabbed the japchae with ease. he didn’t even look at you as he scooped a generous amount into your plate and set the bowl back down with a dull thud.

"i didn’t need help," you mumbled, trying to sound unbothered even though your ears were warm.

"sure," he replied flatly, already chewing on a kimbap roll like this was no big deal.

you picked at the noodles, refusing to look at him. but the silence wasn’t heavy anymore. just awkward in that almost comfortable way you hated admitting felt familiar. out of the corner of your eye, you saw him fold a napkin and slide it over to your side.

"there's sesame oil at the corner of your lips," he said, nudging it closer without glancing up.

you frowned. "i havent even had a bite yet..."

that earned you a short, sharp exhale from him, almost a laugh, but definitely not one he’d admit to. you bit the inside of your cheek, pretending your chopsticks needed adjustment. sungho’s hand rested on his knee, thumb tapping rhythmically like he was trying not to say something else.

across from you, ningning had her brows raised and lips curved into a smirk, whispering something to jisung, who snorted while stealing a chicken leg. you made eye contact with her briefly, and she just widened her eyes like she knew everything and said nothing.

you tried not to react. sungho definitely didn’t. but when both your chopsticks reached for the same roll of kimbap moments later and your fingers grazed his, your hand immediately jerked back and so did his.

"i’m still mad at you," you said, your voice low.

"good," he muttered. "same."

eventually, people started to get up, some stretching their arms and groaning about the afternoon games to come. paper plates were crumpled, juice boxes flattened, and the chatters shifted into groans of "i’m so full" and "why did i eat three servings of rice?"

you stood, brushing off your pants, turning just enough to grab your bag. as you did, something small flew in your direction. your instinct kicked in and you caught it mid-air with wide eyes. it's a small pack of apple candies.

you blinked, raising your brow as you turned to sungho, who was already zipping up his black bomber jacket and standing with his can of cola in hand.

he gave you a forced, flat look. "it’s gonna be a long and tiring day," he said simply. "just in case you forget your candies again and pass out from low blood sugar."

then he walked away like he didn’t just casually throw a piece of concern at you like an emotionally constipated teenage boy who refused to be emotionally available.

you stared at the candy pack for a few seconds, a tiny smile twitching at your lips before you shoved it in your pocket.

──────────────────────

"alright! game two's starting—get your butts up!" sejeong shot up and clapped her hands like a kindergarten teacher on a field trip

groans erupted. one junior flopped face-down onto the mat on the grass. another rolled over like a log. still, curiosity won over inertia, and the crowd drifted toward the makeshift "arena"

mr. yoo, now sporting a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses, looking like a dad in a summer sitcom, stepped up with a clipboard in hand. he cleared his throat, clearly enjoying every second of this.

"our game is simple," he announced, grinning like a man who weaponized team-building exercises. "uh—we're not calling it anything, just to test your teamwork." he continued. "one person wears a blindfold. their partner stands behind and guides them verbally to collect ten tiny flags planted around the field. most flags wins. sounds easy, right?"

"easy?" ningning whispered, eyeing the uneven terrain. "that sounds like a mess."

before anyone could comment, sungho raised a hand from where he was lounging on the grass. "can we call it... gps?"

everyone turned, confused.

he shrugged. "guiding partner simulator."

chuckles and smiles broke out. mr. han did too. "see? this is why hr is scared of the creative department."

you rolled your eyes, suppressing yourelf to even show a tiny twitch of lip muscle. you muttered out of the corner of your mouth. "wow, sungho. ever consider a side hustle writing slogans for popcorn bags?"

he leaned in slightly. "at least mine don't sound like they were ai-generated under a 'be professional' prompt."

you scoffed, rolling your eyes as the two of you walked over to where ningning and jisung stood.

ningning eyed you both with arms crossed. "okay. not you two," she said, gesturing between you. "you'll argue the whole time and end up in opposite corners of the field out of spite."

jisung nodded. "you'll probably find, like, one flag, argue about which way is north, and rage-quit."

sungho looked mildly wounded. "excuse me, i am very capable of multitasking while being petty."

"which is exactly the problem," ningning said, already turning to jisung. "so, us?"

but jisung paused, then grinned wickedly. "actually... i change my vote. you two go. interns' pride and all."

you and sungho frowned in unison. "huh?"

"you need to let out whatever weird tension this is," ningning said, not even glancing up from her nails. "think of it as couples therapy. with flags."

"couple? yikes..." you and sungho exchanged a synchronized side-eyes. sungho then stood with arms crossed, deadpan. "okay. i'll be the blindfolded one."

you squinted, slightly doubtful. "don't mess it up."

he bent slightly so you could reach. you took the blindfold from jisungs hand and tied it around his head.

"you don't mess it up," he muttered. "and please don't give me directions like they're the ikea floor plan."

you tightened the knot just enough to make him yelp. "let's just try not to go viral for the wrong reasons."

then, as you stood by the starting line and sungho took his place, sejeong raised her whistle. "ready? and... go!"

the field erupted into cheers as you zoned in.

"three o'clock, five steps!" you shouted, trying to be heard over the chaos.

sungho moved cautiously to the right, arms out like a stereotypical zombie. around him, the field was a minefield of lumpy grass, plastic cones, and flags dancing in the wind.

"slow down—dip coming up. step—no, no, not that left—yes! okay, crouch. it's near your foot."

he bent down, groping the ground. "got it!"

"okay!" you cheered. "twelve o'clock. eight steps!"

he powered forward, boots crunching over dry grass.

"stop—small bush ahead! veer left. now!"

he reached into the shrubbery and pulled out another flag. "two!"

"nice! okay, uh... nine o'clock—short sprint!"

he then carefully took off like he'd been training for this his whole life. then, then you stopped him. "obstacle!"

he skidded to a halt. "what kind?"

"cone. bright yellow."

then, he carefully walked away, then forward, crouching. "where is it?"

"near your knee—yes! three!"

the mayhem continued as you shouted like a gps in distress. he followed surprisingly well. each flag got easier. he stopped second-guessing you. you stopped yelling "other left!" like a drill sergeant. somehow, you both found rhythm.

by the time sungho grabbed the sixth flag beside a tree, mr. yoo blew the whistle to signal the end of the game. you and sungho had won. he ripped off the blindfold and ran back to you.

"we won!" he grinned, hopping.

"good job!" you hopped with him. he turned toward your voice and high-fived you. it was loud and satisfying. a moment of pure teamwork.

you looked at him and for one dumb second, it hit you how familiar this all felt. then both of you froze and dropped your hands, retreating into your usual indifferent personas.

"still not getting the last four though," he said, brushing off his pants. "i blame your navigation."

you gasped. "we literally already won at the sixth flag. you're so greedy and overcompetitive."

"mhm, so are you." he raised a brow as jisung and ningning finally ran up, hopping around and pumping their fists.

from the sidelines, mr. yoo and sejeong exchanged knowing glances as they watched you. mr. yoo gave you both a thumbs-up. "see? dynamic synergy."

you and sungho just looked at each other with barely suppressed smirks before jumping around with ningning and jisung.

──────────────────────

the sky now faded into a soft blue-orange gradient as the sun dipped behind the hills, ushering in the cooler breath of evening. the group had set up a semi-circle of picnic mats and foldable blankets across the park lawn, fairy lights from nearby trees blinking faintly like grounded stars. food wrappers rustled gently in the wind, and someone passed around a bag of chips while others tugged on their jackets.

it wasn’t a campfire, but it had the same cozy feeling. the juniors and interns sprawled together, legs crossed, backs slouched, and lively chatters.

"hey, sungho," one of the juniors piped up between bites of fish cake. "you were in a band back in college, right?"

sungho, who had been sipping from a juice box, glanced up mid-sip. "uh, yeah. i was."

"woah, for real?"

he chuckled. "yeah. we called ourselves dalbit because we’d always rehearse late at night."

that earned some amused chuckles. you were seated not far from him, your elbow just brushing the edge of the blanket you shared. it wasn’t awkward, but it wasn't easy either.

"we were together until our last year. then, life happened. one became a producer, one’s teaching music. everyone just… went their way, i guess."

"dude, that’s kinda cinematic," someone said, tossing a snack in their mouth. "like an epilogue."

sungho only gave a shrug. then ningning, who was scrolling through something on her phone, looked up. "wait, narin, you went to k-arts too, right?"

you blinked at the sudden attention, everyone looking at you. "yeah."

ningning added. "same uni as sungho, that’s crazy. did you know him before this?"

you shook your head, casually reaching for a drink. "no, we met during the internship interview. i didn’t even know he existed before that."

sungho didn’t comment. he just looked down, idly twisting the juice box straw.

"really?" someone said. "he was in a school band. didn’t you guys have those big festivals and performances?"

you shrugged. "maybe. i wasn’t interested in those. my department was pretty far from the performance wing. i wasn’t exactly the type to hang out at school events anyway."

there was a little silence after that. then a couple of nods from everyone while sungho leaned back on his palms.

then, the same junior who had asked about his band earlier stood up and jogged off. no one paid him much attention until he returned— holding a slightly battered acoustic guitar.

"i found this in the rec shed! come on, sungho, give us something!"

sungho raised his hands. "what? i haven’t played in months—"

"you’ll be fine!" the junior grinned, shoving the guitar into his lap.

a few voices cheered in encouragement. eventually, sungho sighed, adjusted the strap, and tuned the strings with gentle plucks. the guitar was old, its wood sun-worn and a little chipped, but his fingers treated it like a brand new.

the first chord filled the circle, soft and clear, the sound melting into the breeze. conversations faded, and the circle gradually hushed.

sungho’s voice entered gently. low, husky, and calming. an original song, he’d said once, written during college. something about moments slipping through fingers, about chasing time but letting go too.

you watched him, eyes caught not just on the way his fingers moved soulfully. but the small details, the way his brow furrowed with emotion, the subtle shift of his soft lips as he sang. the curve of his wrist as he strummed downward, the faint veins that stood out on his forearm with every chord change.

then, he looked up for a second right at you. just a non-dramatic glance, but it hit you anyway.

and maybe it was the song. maybe it was the way he looked so at peace while doing what he love, so unlike the version of him you’d been arguing with for weeks. or maybe it was just that for the first time in a while, you saw him without all the noise. you looked down, fingers curling into the blanket.

when he played the last chord, the group broke into soft applause, the mood gentle and easy. someone tossed a cookie at him. others asked what the song was called.

sungho just smiled, cheeks slightly flushed. "it doesn’t have a title. just something i never finished." he said as he bit the cookie he caught.

──────────────────────

the rest of the night passes in a fun you didn't expect. half-empty snack bags, someone telling a ghost story that makes ningning squeal and grab jisung. sejeong laughs so hard she nearly spits her drink, and the fairy lights overhead flicker like large fireflies. it feels like one of those nights you’ll remember fondly, though nothing huge happens. supervisor yoo really is effective with this.

by ten, the air turns cooler, and people start packing up. someone folds the wrong side of a foldable chair and gets booed in jest. wrappers get tossed, bags zipped, someone yawns in the corner.

you walk over to the tree where you left your stuff, crouching to pick up your tote bag and hoodie. the grass brushes your knuckles, cool and slightly damp. you’re just brushing off dirt from your palm when sungho approaches.

he doesn’t say anything. just shrugs at you lightly, like a silent "yo." you shrug back, a telepathic "yo" in return.

you fall into step beside him, the two of you walking toward the parking at a slower pace than the rest. the night feels quieter now and more peaceful now.

"i wish i met you back then," sungho suddenly said quietly, eyes forward, hands in his pockets.

you blinked, glancing up at him. "in uni?"

he nodded. "yeah, would've been interesting."

you considered that, thinking before your steps slowed down. "i don’t think college me would’ve liked you. you were that carefree band guy, right?" you said. "hanging out with cool kids, probably skipping class to go busking or something."

he lets out a chuckle. "okay, accurate."

you smile. "and i was very much the opposite. i didn’t go to school festivals. didn’t care about band performances. i just wanted to graduate, make art and move forward."

he nods, thoughtful. "i think we’d have clashed even more back then."

"more than we do now?" you teased, giving him a sideways glance.

"that’s different."

you nodded in agreement. "yeah, there’s lots of pressure. the internship ends the day after tomorrow. there's only one slot for the promotion. that’s why we’ve been…" you paused, slightly gesturing your hands. "tense. at each other’s throats."

sungho nodded. "yeah, maybe."

the air getsquiets again between you, but not in a bad way. he doesn’t say anything else, and neither do you, both of you just walking, each step feeling lighter than the last.

then, from ahead─"hey, you two!" it’s sejeong’s voice, sharp and teasing. "stop trailing behind and get to the bus!"

you roll your eyes, and sungho groans dramatically beside you. "coming!" he calls back, hand raised lazily in acknowledgment.

you both glance at each other at the same time and end up grinning, just a little. not quite an apology, not quite a reconciliation but something fonder than the tension you both have.

──────────────────────

the bus ride, for once, doesn't carry that silent tension you had earlier. there were no pointed avoidances, no passive-aggressive shifting in seats. just quiet conversation, shared earbuds, and the occasional bump of shoulders as the bus bounced over potholes.

mr. yoo stood at the front of the bus, clearing his throat. "interns! good luck on tomorrow’s presentation. remember, the panel appreciates clarity, so be clear and avoid unnecessary remarks."

when the bus pulled up to sungho’s stop, he stood and nodded at you with a small smile like he always do every night before things got weird. he stepped down from the bus, already walking toward his building.

but then, on instinct, you stood too. mr. yoo spoke. "this isn’t your stop."

"i know," you said with a quick bow. he just gave you a knowing smile, like he’d been waiting for this moment longer than either of you had.

you hopped off the bus and called out, "hey!"

sungho turned mid-step. "narin? this isn’t—"

"i know it’s not my stop," you said, rolling your eyes with a grin. "let’s fix that mess of a project tonight and crush the presentation tomorrow."

sungho nodded, then let out a small laugh, tapping your shoulder. "took you long enough."

─────────────────────

the moment you stepped into his apartment, both of you wasted no time. "kitchen’s still in the same place, right?" you asked, already dropping your bag.

"unless it moved since last week," he replied, tossing his own bag to the side.

you got to work making strong coffee and dug through his pantry for emergency snacks. the ginseng strips looked questionably expired, but at this point, you both needed some sort of brain fuel. meanwhile, sungho cleared the table, printer grinding, folders laid out, and laptops open with slides on display.

you returned with a tray, setting it down jusr as sungho adjusts the monitor angle. there's no discussion, you just went straight to work. and for the first day in a week, you and sungho aren't getting into each other's nerves. just smooth exchanges of opinions over slides.

the hours pass with lighthearted chatters, edits, rewrites, and impromptu debates over font choices. and somehow, as the clock ticks past five, there’s not a single yawn between the two of you. the deck looks like a deck now, not a weird soup of milk and soy sauce someone tried to pass off as presentable. you’re no longer fighting your differences. you’re merging them, and the result is actually impressive.

there are moments you glance at him, and he glances at you, and neither of you says anything, but those small looks say, we’re doing it. at six, you both finally exhale, leaning back in your seats with the quiet satisfaction that follows a finished task done well.

by five in the morning, neither of you had yawned once. mostly thanks to the unhealthily strong coffee, but partly because, for once, this actually felt right.

"hey," sungho said, holding up the final slide. "look. it doesn’t suck."

"that’s the highest praise i’ve ever heard you say,"

and by 6 a.m., everything was ready. handouts printed. folder prepped. after practicing the pitch one last time, you both flop back on his bed, still on the same clothes from yesterday. arms stretched out like two crime scene chalk outlines.

you both turned your heads at the same time, startled. wide eyes, and then followed by low, tired laughter.

"why didn’t we just do this sooner?" you mumbled.

sungho exhaled, still grinning. "we could’ve saved a week and a half of pointless bickering."

"our fault."

"at least we’re finally proud of the work."

you smiled, closing your eyes. "so satisfied."

─────────────────────

it’s d-day. the waiting area outside the conference room is too bright for comfort, casting a sterile glow on the floor tiles. you sit shoulder to shoulder with sungho on one of the cushioned benches, opposite jisung and ningning, who are fiddling with their cue cards and sipping from matching tumblers.

it’s quiet at first, the way mornings are when everyone’s running on caffeine and nerves. but someone—maybe jisung—laughs first, and that’s all it takes to soften the edges.

"i still can’t believe it’s our last day," ningning says, hugging her knees to her chest. "it feels like we just got here."

you smile, tucking a loose hair behind your ear. "i swear i still don’t know how to use the copier properly."

"same," sungho adds, grinning. "i’ve just been pretending i do. confidence is key."

"we should have taken more pictures," jisung says, opening the gallery on his phone. "i barely have any of us that aren’t blurry or cursed."

you all laugh. there’s a small lull, and then ningning says softly, "no matter who gets chosen for the promotion… i’m just glad we did this together."

"yeah," sungho nods, exchanging glances with you. "it’s been a ride. i hope we cross paths again."

"let’s not jinx our lives by saying goodbye too dramatically," you say with a half-smile. "just… see y'all again somewhere."

"somewhere better," jisung echoes.

the conference room door opens. a staff member pokes her head out. "team a, you’re up."

that’s you and sungho. you both rise at the same time. sungho nudges your elbow. "ready?"

"nope," you say, but you’re already walking in.

──────────────────────

inside, the room is colder. the panelists are already seated, each with a printed nameplate. cups of water, and that corporate poker face they must practice in the mirror. mr. yoo catches your eye from the corner of the room and gives a small nod or encouragement.

you and sungho move in tandem like you rehearsed this a dozen times, even though your "rehearsal" was really just earlier's caffeine-fueled cram session. he hands out the cleanly stapled handouts professionally while you set up the laptop and connect it to the projector, which thankfully doesn’t go against you with a tech malfunction today.

the first slide appears. clean title. fresh neon color palette, which sungho called a neon bowling alley just days ago. animated logo spinning just once for flair.

"good morning," you and sungho starts with a bow. "we’re here to present our concept for a new variety show, one that leverages the unique image and reach of your artist, yoon haeun"

he steps aside slightly as you take over. "we’re calling it 'off the script'—a candid variety format that breaks the fourth wall with miss yoon and her fans, while keeping things fresh, bold, and distinctly her."

your voices pass back and forth, effortlessly now. no stepping on each other and no awkward pauses. just flow.

one slide after another reveals concept art, pilot episode outlines, target audience data, and branding mockups, including one with a hilarious doodle sungho insisted on keeping "for personality."

from the panel, you catch one of them—ms. choi, based on her nameplate—scribbling something, her brows furrowed.

"can you clarify the runtime and pacing structure of your pilot episode?" she asks, pen still moving.

"yes," sungho nods, already ready. "we structured it for a 35-minute digital release, segmenting it into three parts. intro games, the behind-the-scenes shoot, and fan interaction. each segment is modular for flexible editing if needed."

mr. baek, a senior-looking exec with wireframe glasses, chimes in next. "you’ve mentioned this breaks the fourth wall. how do you intend to balance that with maintaining her polished image as an idol?"

you draw in a quiet, shaky breath through your nose. your hand tightens slightly on the clicker. for a second, the room tilts slightly, like your blood sugar just remembered i'ts on rock bottom.

sungho, standing beside you, notices this as he gently pats your back. light, reassuring, then leans slightly closer and whispers under his breath, "you’ve got this." a quick nod and a smile.

it’s enough. you exhale, shoulders relaxing as you take a small step forward.

"that’s a great point," you begin, voice steadier now. "our approach leans into... relatability, not randomness. the candid moments are designed carefully to highlight miss yoon's wit and sincerity. we’re giving fans access, not exposure."

another panelist, the youngest-looking one, taps their pen thoughtfully. "this concept feels bold. what’s the plan b if she—or the agency—gets cold feet about breaking this much format?"

you exchange a glance with sungho, and he gives a barely-there smirk.

"well," you say, "plan b is called 'the scripted show' same base, but less fourth wall, more structured games. still quirky, and still on-brand."

a small chuckle escapes one of them and nodded. you’ll take it.

as the slides wrap up, sungho clicks through to the final screen: a clean "thank you" slide with your names and contact info, plus a mock-up of an instagram teaser.

"thank you for your time," you say in sync, and bow.

they all applaused. mr. yoo offers a thumbs-up so subtle it could’ve been mistaken for a twitch.

outside, you’re met by jisung and ningning who are visibly vibrating due to nerve.

"how was it?" jisung whispers like it’s a prison escape debrief.

"we lived," you deadpan, fixing the hem of your blazer.

"knock 'em dead," sungho adds, flashing a quick smile.

"i’m already dying," ningning mumbles, gripping her flash drive like it’s a holy relic.

"you’ll do great," you say, passing them with a shoulder bump. "just remember, if you forget what to say, make eye contact and cry a little. confuses them. buys you time."

as you walk down the hall, sungho leans in. "i think we did okay," he says, hands in his pockets.

"you think?"

"we had panelists laughing."

you snort, the nerves from earlier officially melted into post-presentation adrenaline.

──────────────────────

back at your desks, you and sungho sink into your chairs, completely drained. for a few seconds, neither of you says a word—just letting the moment settle. then, without needing to say anything, you both raise your hands and do a small, tired clap. two sleep-deprived interns celebrating like champs in a cramped cubicle.

"we did it!" you grin.

"i think i blacked out after slide six," sungho mutters, rubbing his eyes. "did i say anything stupid?"

"you actually made sense," you say with a mock-surprised face. "kind of shocking, honestly."

he groans. "i should retire now."

you nudge him with your elbow. "not before coffee."

"god, yes."

you both head to the pantry, refilling your mugs with the bitter, lukewarm coffee that somehow tastes better today.

probably because sejeong didn’t get her hands on it this time.

some time later, after chatting with some juniors and talking to sungho about irrelevant things, jisung and ningning come back with mundane faces. you and sungho look up as they approach, both quiet.

"well?" sungho asks, eyes hopeful.

jisung scratches the back of his neck. "they didn’t really react much."

"not bored, exactly. but not exactly excited either." ningning added.

you give a small smile. "that doesn’t mean it was bad."

"they did ask questions though," jisung says. "so… maybe that’s a good sign?"

sungho raises his mug. "still proud of you two. cheers to that."

──────────────────────

after a few minutes, you all get called back into the conference room. the same panelists are waiting. mr. yoo clears his throat as he removes his glasses. a mannerism of his everytime he's about to say something revolutional.

"we’ve reviewed both projects," he says. "both teams gave thoughtful and creative ideas. it wasn’t an easy choice…"

you hold your breath and glance at sungho.

"…but we’ve decided to move forward with the concept by miss yang and mr. park."

your eyes widen. you look at sungho, who’s already looking at you. you both can’t help but grin at the same time.

"but," mr. yoo continues, turning to jisung and ningning, "your presentation had some strong points too. we’ll keep your idea in our internal pool. it showed real promise, especially with that interactive structure."

ningning gives a small, genuine smile. jisung nodding in acknowledgement. you all thank the panel and start to leave. the conference room door closes behind you.

the panelists walk past, giving you nods or quiet smiles. mr. yoo pats sungho on the back. "good job."

but then hr suddenly stops all of you. "actually," she says, "can we call all four of you back in? just a quick thing before the meeting officially ends."

you exchange confused looks but follow her anyway. back inside the now-empty conference room, the four of you stand stiffly before mr. yoo and the hr reps, feeling like high schoolers caught in the principal’s office.

one of the hr women clears her throat, glancing between the four of you. "so, as you know, we’re selecting one intern for a junior associate position after the program ends."

your heart speeds up. you sneak a quick look at sungho, he’s trying to stay calm, but his fingers tap nervously against his thigh. mr. yoo folds his hands on the table, smiling kindly.

"after reviewing your performance throughout the internship… we’ve decided to offer the position to…"

you drop your eyes to the floor, waiting, heart pounding like a drum. after all the praise you got earlier, you’re sure it’ll be either yours or sungho’s name.

then mr. yoo continued,

"miss ning yizhuo."

your brows furrowed in surprise as you look sideways at sungho. his lips twitch in a barely-contained smirk. not because of ningning, but because all the tension and competition over the past weeks suddenly feels a bit silly. the big buildup ends with an anticlimax neither of you expected.

ningning gasps, eyes wide for a split second before smoothing her expression into pure professionalism. she bows slightly. "thank you so much. you won’t regret it."

the hr woman smiles warmly. "you’ve shown great initiative, consistency, and leadership. we’d be happy to have you onboard."

jisung claps her shoulder with a big grin. "you totally deserve it." you and sungho nod sincerely, joining in with your congratulations.

mr. yoo turns to you and sungho next, his eyes kind. "and you two," he says, steepling his fingers, "we couldn’t accept one of you without the other. you work great together, but individually, there’s still some room to grow."

you and sungho exchange a quick glance and nod, both understanding the honest feedback.

"that’s dynamic synergy," mr. yoo adds with a chuckle.

you both shoot him a side glance and say together, “thank you, sir.”

the meeting ends, and you and sungho head straight for the balcony, the weight lifting off your shoulders as you step into the fresh air. sungho lets out a long breath and shakes his head.

“well, that was something,” he says, a small smile tugging at his mouth.

you laugh softly. “all that rivalry for nothing.”

he nudges your shoulder playfully. “hey, we still got the winning project.”

“true, but she got the job.”

“but our idea’s going to be seen by a lot of people,” sungho adds, eyes bright.

the breeze lifts your hair, cool against your skin. you both lean on the balcony railing, quiet for a moment.

“so,” sungho breaks the silence, “what’s next? after all this?”

you take a breath. “find a job, obviously. what about you?”

he glances sideways at you, eyes crinkling in a grin. “go on a date.”

“with who?” you frowned slightly.

he grins wider, clearly enjoying the teasing. “guess.”

you roll your eyes but can’t hide your smile. “sounds like classic adulting.”

🗒️ NOTE — sooo who is going to tell them the chances are VERY likely...?