#tws fluff

⋆˚꩜｡ dohoon

it was a friday night, and that meant your weekly date night with dohoon. this week, you had decided to have a stay in date at their dorms, where you ordered food for everyone and played video games in the living room. you all were having fun, throwing jokes left and right, and making fun of each other’s mario kart skills. as the night grew darker, the others started heading to bed, leaving you and dohoon in the living room

you had shifted from your spot from the couch, planning to clean up the mess before heading home. dohoon had told you they had schedules the next day, so it was best for you to go home so that you were out of everybody’s way when they needed to get ready in the morning. 

“i’ll go home after cleaning-“ you started, before you felt dohoon’s arms wrap around your waist. “no,” he whined “you’re staying the night with me.” you could only let out a small laugh at his reaction. dohoon, despite caring so deeply of his cool image, was always so clingy when the it’s time for you to go home. he had always claimed that you helped him sleep better. which is true, considering it would need double the effort to get him out of his bed if you were sleeping with him. 

“you have schedules tomorrow and i don’t want to bother-“ you couldn’t even finish you sentence before dohoon pulled you back on the couch. falling onto your back, you barely had time to escape before dohoon put his entire body weight on you. “you’re not a bother to anyone, and the schedules are in the afternoon,” he said casually as if you weren’t being squished, “so can we please cuddle and sleep in tomorrow?” he finally brought his gaze to you, waiting for your response. 

you were going to say no, but you couldn’t resist the look on his face. from his beady eyes, to his puffed out cheeks, and to his pouty lips, he was already begging you to stay.

“fine, you’re getting away with it this time,” you said before placing a kiss on his lips. but who were you kidding, he always got his way.

⋆˚꩜｡ youngjae

youngjae was always the quiet one, but you noticed that tonight he had been maybe too quiet. you were hanging out with the other members, exploring the city after dinner. throughout the night, you would squeeze youngjae’s hand and ask him with your eyes if everything was okay. but he’d only give you a reassuring smile in return before turning his attention back to the group. 

everybody decided to go back to the hotel, already tired from the day’s activities. you were sharing a room with youngjae of course, and you were also excited to have some alone time with him after a long day out with friends.

you barely got to close the door to the hotel room when youngjae caught you in the biggest bear hug, dropping his forehead to your shoulder.

"is something wrong?", you asked, concerned over your boyfriend's behavior. you felt him shake his head against your shoulder, "nothing, just wanted your attention."

you smiled at his reason before teasing him, "you big baby. let's spend tomorrow for just the two of us, hm?" you suggested as you rubbed his back, not rushing to let go of the embrace.

throughout your relationship with youngjae, you came to realize that when his social battery would run out, his favorite way to recharge would be to spend some alone time with you.

he reluctantly let go of your hold to go and get ready for bed, but not before stealing a kiss and walking away as if he didn't ask to be babied for a good minute or two.

⋆˚꩜｡ hanjin

the moment the members had told you that hanjin was not feeling well, you immediately went to the store to buy things you needed to take care of him.

when you arrived at the dorms, you quietly walked in hanjin's room. approaching his bed, you tried to locate your boyfriend who was buried under blankets and his many plushies.

he stirred in his sleep, peaking his head from under the blankets. he squinted his eyes up at the figure in front of him. when he realized that it was you, he frowned, feeling guilty. "baobei, you didn't have to come here. you'll get sick," he said as he hid himself under the blanket again.

still, you approached him, and patted his head over the blanket. "don't worry, i'll just be in the kitchen making you food." you had left the room and made your way to the kitchen.

you hadn't even finished unpacking the groceries, when your heard a door click open and close. out came hanjin still wrapped in his blanket, taking small and slow steps to you in the kitchen. you were about the scold him when he had simply come up to hug you from behind.

"i want cuddles," he said, voice raspy and muffled. your heart immediately melted, not having the heart to scold him anymore. you grabbed him by the hand and guided him to the couch.

"we can cuddle later when you've eaten some food and taken your medicine, okay?" you said, as you made sure he was comfy on one side of the couch. all hanjin wanted to do was to cling on to you everywhere you went. but he knew you were doing what was best for him.

so he watched you move around the kitchen from the living room sofa, wondering how lucky he was to have you.

⋆˚꩜｡ jihoon

if you could describe han jihoon in only one word, it definitely would be clingy. you could be anywhere. in the dance practice room, their dorms, even in public. he would hug you, beg you to pet his hair, even putting his body in weird positions just to gain your attention and place his head under your hand.

you would sometimes wonder if he ever ran out of energy. because by the way you watch him interact with his members and perform on stage, it really did seem like he had unlimited energy.

but after a certain busy and tiring comeback season, they finally had a few days off. you were on your way to their dorm, already having a bag full of snacks to share with everybody. you were already thinking of all of the things that jihoon would want to tell you about this comeback and every funny moment that had happened in between.

but you were surprised when you entered their dorm and you weren't ambushed by your boyfriend, who would usually come bounding down the hallway to greet you like a puppy waiting for his owner. you found the other members in the living room, but jihoon had been nowhere to be found.

dohoon said that jihoon was in their room, saying that he was retiring early for the night. after dropping off the snacks, you went to jihoon's room where you found him already in bed, body in another weird sleeping position. you always teased him with the way that even in his sleep, his body can't stop moving.

you approached his bed, deciding to join him. jihoon stirred in his sleep, already moving aside to make space for you. even if he was half-asleep, it was as if he knew it was you, already had the feeling of your presence memorized.

once settled in bed, you could only laugh at the contrast of the situation. this was one of the rare times where you found jihoon tired out. calm, even. but nothing changed, as even in his sleepy state, he found your wrist and brought it to his head, asking for head rubs as he continued to fall back asleep.

⋆˚꩜｡ kyungmin

kyungmin was already so babied by his members, being the maknae. so in your relationship, it was actually kind of rare for him to be clingy to you, especially since he was used to being the eldest in his family, anyway.

but perhaps today was an exception. you were hanging out with the rest of the members at an arcade, having a go at the different games with each of the members.

but now that you were back home, you had wondered why kyungmin was following you around everywhere you'd go. even now as you were trying to focus on the movie that the two of you were supposed to be watching, kyungmin was restless beside you.

"okay, what's wrong?" you asked, as you finally turned to face him. he couldn't even meet your eyes, choosing to focus his eyes on his lap.

"y-you haven't been giving me a lot of attention today," he confessed quietly, "but you were having so much fun, so i didn't want to bring it up."

"aww, is my minie jelous?" you said, teasingly. before he could even protest, you wrapped your arms around him, snuggling your face into his chest. "you don't have to keep it in, okay? i like it when you're clingy."

kyungmin couldn't even respond. instead, he welcomed the attention with open arms, his heart warming at the fact that he doesn't need to pretend or hide his feelings, especially not from you.

The last bell of the day had rung maybe two minutes ago, which means the hallway is now alive as usual with the hustle of students freshly out of class. Sneakers squeak against the tile, lockers slam shut, and friends holler at each other from across the corridor. You’re leaning back against the cool metal of your locker with one earbud tucked in as you scroll through your phone mindlessly. 

Across the hall, Dohoon and the rest of the basketball team move down the hall like they own the place, as per usual. They’re talking over each other and laughing too loudly, and as they walk past, conversations happening around them pause for the second. Girls leaning against lockers glance up, some whispering to each other, others pretending to check their phones while clearly watching them go by. Dohoon’s eyes travel down the hall as he walks, and instantly, he spots you leaning against your locker, a loose strand of hair tucked behind your ear and framing your face. His steps slow almost immediately before he stops right in front of you. You notice his shadow first, stretching across the floor toward you, and then his sneakers, which stopped right in front of you. 

Finally, you lift your head wordlessly, taking out your earbud slowly. He smirks like he’s been caught, but his eyes reveal his interest nonetheless.  

“I was gonna say hi”

“You were?” you repeat, your tone flat with disinterest. 

“Yeah.”

“And?”

He keeps his eyes trained on you, waiting for you to fall at his feet the way people usually do. 

“You didn’t notice me?”

But instead of shrinking under his attention the way he probably expects, you simply look at him with indifference. 

“Were you expecting me to?” you say, already lifting your hand to slip your earbud back into your ear. 

He’s looking at you strangely, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re actually being serious. 

“Most people say hi,” he says. Behind him, the conversation among his friends has died down. They’re all watching now, waiting for the usual outcome where the girl laughs, bats her eyes, and plays along. 

Instead, you reply, “Most people have low standards then.”

And just like that, you push yourself off the locker and walk past him. 

You don’t see the way his friends stare wide-eyed after you. You don’t hear Shinyu mutter, “Did she just…?”

You definitely don’t see the slow smile spreading across Dohoon’s face as he turns to watch you disappear into the crowd, thoroughly intrigued now. You don’t notice that for the first time in what feels like forever to him, he watches someone walk away from him instead of the other way around. 

And for some reason, that makes him want to follow. 

—

Dohoon doesn’t seem to understand the concept of “no.” Or at least, he thinks it doesn’t apply to him. 

So a few days later after that hallway interaction, it shouldn’t be a surprise that you walk into class to find him sitting in the chair beside your desk, one leg stretched assertively into the aisle. Not in the back where he usually sits with the rest of his friends. He doesn’t say anything when you approach. Instead, he just glances up as you pull out your chair as if silently checking your reaction. Like he’s waiting to see if you’ll acknowledge him first. 

You don’t. You set your bag down and start flipping through your notes like the seat next to you isn’t suddenly occupied by the most talked-about guy in your grade. 

Later that day, in the lunch line, he appears as a presence just behind your shoulder. You step forward. He does too. You move your tray along the rail. He does the same. In fact, he’s close enough that if you took a step backward, you’d probably bump right into him. 

“You’re avoiding me,” he says one afternoon as he slides back into his newly claimed seat in the classroom

You don’t look up from highlighting your notes. 

“You flatter yourself.”

Everyone knows that Dohoon is charming. Effortlessly so, as a matter of fact. He’s the kind of student teachers shake their heads at with a tired smile but never actually punish. The kind who gets called out but talks his way out of getting in trouble just by flashing a grin paired with some sweet-talk. 

Moreover, girls tend to orbit around him, and he knows exactly how to keep them there. When someone talks to him, his eyes focus on you like whatever you’re saying is the most interesting thing he’s heard all day. He remembers small things people mention. He makes you feel like you’ve caught his attention in a way no one else has. He’s good at that. And it makes you feel singled out and special. 

But he never really promises anything. There’s no official label. No public declaration. Just lingering glances, conversations that seem meaningful on the outside, hangouts that happen here and there. And then eventually, they taper off in a way that makes the girl start wondering if she imagined it all in the first place. By the time she realizes, he’s already gone, laughing at someone else’s joke across the hallway. Already leaning against another locker. 

The thing is, he dosn’t even look like someone you’re supposed to dislike. If anything, the way he moves from girl to girl only feeds into his persona. As if being chosen, even briefly, is proof you were special enough to catch his attention in the first place. That’s his reputation: the boy everyone swears they won’t fall for but inevitably swoon over. But you’ve seen enough to know better. 

He leans back in his chair. 

“Let me take you out.”

“Why?”

He stares at you like you’ve just asked him something confusing, something no one’s asked him before.

“Because I want to,” he says, bewildered.

“You want a lot of things,” you reply without even sparing a glance. “Doesn’t mean you get them.”

He’s caught slightly off guard, though you don’t notice. He laughs and rubs the back of his neck. 

“You’re different,” he insists. 

“Do you say that to every girl? If you’re bored, go entertain someone else,” you say as you slide your stuff back into your bag. Then you stand, slinging your bag over your shoulder. 

And you leave him there, sitting with his fingers still curling against the edge of the desk. His eyes linger on the empty chair across from him, on the tiny eraser markings adorning the table. He’s still staring at the space you just vacated, confused, because that’s not how this usually goes. 

This time, the wheel slipped out of his hands before he could do anything about it. And he doesn’t know how to feel about being out of control for once. 

—

A week later, he tries again. 

The classroom erupts into movement as students gather up their belongings to leave. Conversations spill into the hallway before people even reach the door. You take your time packing your things, but as you step past the doorway, Dohoon steps into view immediately. Leaning against the wall just outside the door, his arms are folded loosely across his chest. He falls into stride beside you instantly. 

“Are you always this difficult?” he asks, a hint of amusement apparent. 

“Are you always this persistent?” you hit back. 

“For you? Apparently.” 

“You don’t like me,” you start. “You’re just here because I’m not obsessed with you. And until you figure out if you’re really interested in me or just bored, don’t ask me out again.”

Then you turn and head down the stairs, leaving Dohoon where he is. Hands at his sides, he watches as you disappear into the moving cluster of students until he can’t see you anymore.  

—

Students flood through the halls as the last class finally ends. Voices overlap with the sharp clang of lockers and the shuffle of shoes against the polished floor. Dohoon stands with Shinyu and youngjae, who are in the middle of arguing about something completely pointless that happened during basketball practice yesterday. Dohoon has already tuned them out. Instead, he’s staring down the hallway simply because there’s nothing better to look at. That’s when he sees you. 

You’re standing near the stairwell with one hand hooked around the strap of your bag, clearly about to leave for the day. Except someone’s blocking your way. 

Dohoon recognizes him immediately. Minjae. 

Second-year. Starting forward on the soccer team. Loud, cocky, and generally known for being the kind of guy who thinks rules don’t really apply to him just because he’s popular. 

Youngjae leans forward, following Dohoon’s line of sight, and notices right away. 

“Wait, isn’t that Minjae?”

Dohoon doesn’t answer. His attention stays fixed on the scene unfolding down the hall. Minjae has one arm propped against the wall beside you, seemingly casual, but clearly with the intent to assert himself. 

“So,” Minjae says confidently. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

You look at him. Your expression is completely unimpressed. 

“Oh. Have you?”

“Yeah,” he continues, like the answer is obvious. “You’re kind of hard to catch, to be honest.”

You nod but don’t say anything else. Minjae clears his throat and tries again. 

“I think you’re cute,” he says. “So we should hang out sometime. I’m free this weekend.”

“You want to hang out?” you ask, pursing your lips together in mild confusion. 

“Yeah,” he says, “like a date.”

The confidence in his voice makes it sound like he already thinks that it’s a done deal. Dohoon, on the other hand, watches your reaction carefully. You’re not blushing or laughing nervously in your hand like one would expect you to in that situation. Instead, you sigh quietly, like someone had just asked you a question you’ve already heard too many times. 

“No.”

Minjae blinks. 

“No?”

“No,” you repeat. 

For a second, he looks like he doesn’t know what to do with that answer. Then he laughs, trying to recover. 

“Come on,” he asserts. “Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?” you ask calmly. 

“You know, playing hard to get. It’s okay. I know you’re into me.”

You almost roll your eyes. 

“I’m not playing anything. I’m saying no,” you say flatly without hesitation. 

Minjae glances around, suddenly aware that people might be listening. The way you brush him off seems to irritate him as his eyes narrow at your attitude. 

“You know most girls would kill for me to ask them out, right?”

“Then go ask them instead,” you say, unfazed in the slightest. 

The bluntness of your response hits like a slap in the face. 

“How can you be so sure?” Minjae scoffs, his outward facade evaporating instantly. 

“Because I don’t want to associate myself with guys who treat people like garbage. Or guys who think they’re somehow above everyone else.”

Minjae lets out a short laugh. 

“You’re seriously judging me over rumors?”

“Believe what you want,” you say. 

You step slightly to the side, clearly ready to leave. 

“I’d rather not waste my time.”

He scoffs again as he pushes away from the wall.  

“Whatever,” he mutters in an attempt to save face. “You’re not even my type anyway.” 

Minjae clearly expects that to catch you off guard, or at least to prompt some kind of reaction. 

Instead, you simply reply, “Good. That makes this easier for the both of us, then.”

Then you turn and continue down the hallway toward the exit, where A-na and Yuha are standing, waiting for you so that you can leave together. 

A couple of students nearby laugh under their breath. Minjae shoots them an irritated glare before stalking off in the opposite direction, and Dohoon can’t help but let out a laugh as well. 

Back by the lockers, Shinyu lets out a low whistle, muttering, “Damn.”

“She’s a badass for that,” Youngjae says, shaking his head. “Minjae was always annoying. I don’t know how anyone stands him.”

Dohoon doesn’t say anything. His eyes are still in a trance, watching the hallway where you were just standing. 

Who does she think she is? he thinks automatically. But he’s not annoyed. If anything, he’s impressed. 

“Dude,” Shinyu says, nudging Dohoon. “You’re staring.”

Dohoon finally looks away from the hallway. But the curiosity doesn’t go away. 

—

The party comes a week later on a Friday night. You can already hear it even from halfway down the street. Bass pulses through the neighborhood like the thrum of a heartbeat, vibrating through the pavement beneath your shoes. The house itself glows brightly with blazing porch lights flashing through windows fogged from the heat of too many bodies inside. Every time the front door swings open, laughter spills out along with shouted greetings and the clinking of bottles knocking together. 

The place is already overflowing by the time you step inside. The air smells like a dizzying mix of sugary drinks, cheap cologne, someone’s perfume lingering in the hallway, and the greasiness from the pizza lying on the kitchen counter. Heat clings to your skin almost immediately, the room thick and humid as bodies press shoulder to shoulder. 

You have to slide sideways through the crowd just to make it past the doorway. Your shoulders brush against the people around you, and the fabric of your skirt grazes someone’s denim jacket as you make your way through the hallway. Somewhere behind you, someone whoops loudly as the song switches to one that’s even more bass-boosted, and the opening chords send half the living room into a chorus of cheers. 

You’ve always enjoyed parties like this. You thrive in the chaos, in the energy humming through the air and pulsing through your body. There’s something freeing about being swallowed up by a crowd as you dance with your friends without having to care about anything else. 

“(Name)!” Stella shouts as she spots you from across the room. She’s already rushing over, squealing as she throws her arms around you. 

“Stella!” you laugh as she hugs you excitedly, bouncing excitedly up and down. “You look so good!”

“Girl, you too!” A-na exclaims, hurrying over to join the hug. 

Tonight you’re wearing something simple: a cropped top and a miniskirt. Nothing particularly dramatic. Yet you’re completely oblivious to the ways eyes follow you as you move through the room. You barely make it halfway to the kitchen before a couple of guys make their way over to you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. One leans casually against the wall behind him while another offers you a drink from the cluttered line of plastic cups and half-empty bottles. 

You accept it out of politeness, the cold rim of the cup chilling the tips of your fingers. The drink smells distinctively of something sweet mixed with something sour. After a moment, you set it down without taking a sip, though you entertain their conversation easily with just the slightest hint of playfulness in the way you respond. 

Across the room, Shinyu nudges Dohoon in the side with his elbow. 

“Isn’t that the girl you like?”

Dohoon barely glances up at first. The house is packed with people; there’s nothing unusual about seeing another familiar face in the crowd. 

But when his eyes follow the direction that Shinyu was referring to, they land on you. And he freezes instantly. 

The lights above your head catch in your hair as you laugh at something the guy in front of you just said. He can’t quite make out what you were saying, but it doesn’t take much to notice the confident, relaxed way in which you carry yourself. What he notices even more, though, is the distance. You’re not leaning into the guy’s shoulder, even though he clearly looks eager for you to. You’re not touching his arm either. Dohoon finds himself smirking before he can stop himself. 

You hadn’t mentioned you’d be there. Though, he realizes a second later, why would you? Still, the sight of you here is entirely not what he expected when he decided to drop by for a bit, and Dohoon stands up a little straighter, suddenly feeling more conscious of himself and the party as a whole. 

And then you feel it, that familiar sensation of being watched. Your eyes look past the guy in front of you until they land across the room. Right on Dohoon. A flicker of surprise crosses your face. You didn’t expect him to be there either, staring at you like that. 

Then, just as quickly, you look away. The conversation in front of you resumes as the guy says something else that elicits a smile from you again. But Dohoon doesn’t stop watching. Not until Shinyu’s voice cuts through the music. 

“Dude.”

Dohoon’s head snaps away. Without thinking, he pulls his phone from his pocket, the cool glow of the display lighting his face as he pretends to scroll. 

“Why aren’t you talking to any girls?” Shinyu asks over the music. 

It’s a fair question. Normally, by now, Dohoon would have made his way through half of the house already. On most nights, a girl would be right by his side at this point. But tonight, he’s still standing alone and half of the party has already passed. 

“Don’t feel like it,” he replies with a shrug. 

But he knows exactly what would happen if he tried to act normal tonight. He’d fall back into his usual flirting. Maybe you’d notice, maybe you wouldn’t. Either way, it would feel like proving your point. 

Across the room, you’re now laughing with your friends again as red, blue, and green lights flicker across the walls. And suddenly, Dohoon realizes he doesn’t want to be here anymore. So he leaves. While everyone continues drinking and hooking up all around him, he slips quietly down the hallway and pushes open the back door. The cool night air rushes over him instantly, washing away the heat clinging to his skin. Behind him, the door swings shut with a dull click that instantly muffles the music into nothing but the distant thud of the bass. 

You don’t notice at all. Your friends drag you toward the living room, closer to the speakers where the beat pounds through your chest and vibrates against your ribs. It isn’t until later – maybe forty minutes, maybe longer – that someone mentions it offhandedly. 

“Crazy that he dipped already, huh?” A-na says, leaning closer so you can hear her over the music. 

You tilt your head. 

“Who?”

“Dohoon!” Stella calls from beside her, cupping a hand around her mouth in an attempt to make herself sound louder.

“He left?” 

Your face contorts in confusion. It was so incredibly unlike him. He’s typically the kind of person who stays until the very end, with different girls trailing after him one by one. Though you’d never really witnessed it yourself, all kinds of stories about him reached you long before you ever cared enough to pay attention. 

“Yeah,” she says, “it’s so weird that he left early.” 

Your gaze moves over the crowded living room, past the cluster of people dancing and taking pictures together, toward the kitchen where you’d been standing earlier before you can stop yourself. You can barely make out faces under the flashing lights. Maybe he stepped outside for a moment. Maybe he’s hooking up with a girl in a deserted hallway. But eventually, you accept that he’s nowhere to be seen. 

—

The next morning, you wake up to the sound of your phone vibrating against the nightstand. Your arm stretches to reach for it as you rub your eyes.  

A message. From Dohoon. 

kim dohoon: did you get home safe?

Everything from the night before rushes back at once. You remember the music, the dancing, the laughter, but you also remember the strange feeling simmering in your chest when you realized he’d already left. 

you: yeah

Your fingers hover for a moment before you type again. 

you: why did you leave?

His reply comes almost immediately. 

kim dohoon: didn’t feel like staying

You stare at the screen before the corner of your mouth lifts into a knowing smirk. Liar.

You know he isn’t saying the whole truth. The Dohoon everyone knows would never leave a party without a reason, and definitely not without flirting with half the girls first. But something about the way he’s holding back now sends a small, unsettling flutter through your stomach. 

Because if he’s actually trying, if this is real effort, then suddenly, the situation feels a lot less simple.

—

After that, Dohoon starts to actually show up for you. If he says he’ll meet you after class, he’s already there before you can even step foot outside of the door, leaning against the lockers with his hands tucked into his pockets like he’s been waiting for a while. And when you walk together through the hallways, he’s matching your pace deliberately, his shoulder brushing yours every so often as students move around you. 

At lunch, he starts remembering what you normally grab before you even reach the front of the line. Some days, there’s already a drink sitting at your seat when you sit down. If you mention something once, like an assignment you’re worried about, weekend plans you have with your friends, or something random you said in passing, he’ll bring it up again later like he actually remembered. 

None of it feels overly performative, and if anything, it feels strangely normal. He’s still the same Dohoon everyone else knows. Except now, when you glance up across a crowded hallway, his eyes are already looking for you.

Even if he’s not acting obvious about it, it’s hard for people not to notice his behavior. At lunch, Dohoon, Shinyu, and a couple of his friends gather around their usual table. One of them, Kyungmin, leans back in his chair as he eyes Dohoon with exaggerated suspicion. 

“Something’s off,” he says, pointing his fork toward Dohoon. “Are you actually serious about (Name) this time? Or are you just messing around for the fun of it?”

Dohoon just shrugs as he pokes the food on his tray. 

“Come on,” Jihoon groans dramatically. “Anyone can tell that you’re literally whipped.”

The table erupts into laughter. Normally, Dohoon would laugh along with them and brush it off with some careless comment, something like “Relax, I’m just playing. I don’t even like her like that.”

But this time, he doesn't. Instead, he lifts his head slightly and says, “And so what if I am?”

They quiet down immediately. 

“Wait, are you actually serious about this?” Youngjae asks. “Don’t try to lead her on just to dump her later.”

“I actually think he’s serious this time,” Shinyu confirms. “Remember that party last week? He didn’t pay attention to a single girl that tried to flirt with him. It was really odd.”

“Wow,” Jihoon says, leaning forward in disbelief. “You’re really serious this time.” 

Dohoon just shrugs again, but this time, a small smile lingers on his face.

—

It’s raining by the time you step outside after school. And it’s not a light drizzle, either. The rain falls hard and steady, pouring from the sky in silver sheets that blur the parking lot into a gray haze. Water droplets splash against the pavement and gather in shallow puddles that ripple endlessly with every drop. The air is tinged with the smell of wet asphalt and damp grass. 

You stand beneath the awning outside the school entrance in front of the wall where the concrete overhang offers some protection from the downpour. Students rush past in scattered waves. Some sprint for their cars with backpacks pulled over their heads, while others huddle beneath umbrellas blowing backwards from the wind. 

Conveniently, your sister texts just as you pull out your phone to message her. 

carmen unnie: i’m still stuck at work

carmen unnie: can you see if any of your friends or mom can drive you?

carmen unnie: sorry! 

Of course. You sigh quietly and slip your phone back into your pocket. 

“You didn’t bring an umbrella?”

You turn your head to see Dohoon standing beside you, his dark hair slightly damp from the mist drifting in under the awning. 

“You follow me around now?” you ask. 

He glances at you, a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of mouth. 

“Not on purpose, clearly. I didn’t know you’d be here”

A small laugh escapes you as he looks back out at the rain. 

“Who’s picking you up?” he asks. 

“My sister,” you say. “Though she just texted that she’s going to be late.”

“How late?”

“She’s still stuck at work, so probably pretty late,” you reply. 

He studies you for a second before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He taps something quickly before turning the screen toward you, displaying the GPS app. 

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

He doesn’t explain. Instead, he asks, “What’s your address? I’ll drive you.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to.”

You narrow your eyes at him. 

“You live in the opposite direction.”

“So?” he says. “Plus, who knows how long you’ll be standing out here for.”

Before you can respond, he pulls out an umbrella from his backpack and holds it out toward you. 

“What?”

“Open it,” he says. “Unless you want to walk to my car in the pouring rain.”

You sigh softly before opening it, raising your arm so the umbrella covers both of you. He notices the way your arm is reaching at an awkward angle, and without saying anything, he reaches over to take the handle from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours as he does. The brief contact sends a small ripple of goosebumps up your arm that has nothing to do with the cold. 

He holds the umbrella over both of you as you hurry through the rain. When you reach his car, the rain is hitting his jacket in steady taps while he waits for you to climb in first. You glance at him as he starts the engine. 

“You didn’t have to do this.”

His eyes stay on the road as he pulls out of the parking lot. 

“It’s nothing, don’t worry.”

After that, neither of you say much. The only sound inside the car is the hum of the engine and the rhythmic thump of the windshield wipers sweeping back and forth. And as you sit in the silence, you can’t help but realize that something between the two of you has changed. 

—

Later that week, you’re standing in the bathroom before you go to your next class. You lean toward the mirror as you comb your hair with your fingers, smoothing a stray piece back into place. 

The door swings open behind you. Two girls walk in mid conversation as their voices reverberate against the tiled walls. They don’t seem to notice you standing there. 

“Did you see them at lunch?”

“Yeah,” the second girl scoffs. “It’s so weird.”

Your hand pauses for half a second before you continue fixing your hair. 

“I don’t get it.” 

“Me neither. She’s not even his type.”

“Give it a month,” the first girl says. 

“Please,” the other laughs. “It won’t even take that long. He’ll get bored. He always does.”

They burst into another fit of giggles. 

“And the only reason why he’s into her is because she acts like she doesn’t care. Other than that she’s not much different from everyone else.”

That’s when you’re certain they’re talking about you. Their voices fade away as you stare at your reflection. You press your lips together as your fingers tighten around the edge of the counter immediately. 

Maybe they’re right. Maybe this is just temporary. 

You take a breath.

It doesn’t matter. They don’t matter, you tell yourself. 

By the time the girls leave, the door swinging shut behind them, you’ve already gathered yourself again. You straighten up, push the thought aside, and walk out of the bathroom after them. 

—

Music rattles the glass bottles scattered across the kitchen counter, the sound swallowed by the roar of voices and laughter filling every corner of the house. Colored reds and blues and sickly neon purples flash intermittently across the walls as students party shoulder to shoulder. 

You hadn’t planned on staying long. Just stop by for a moment, take a few cute pictures with your friends, say hi to people you know, then leave. But soon thirty minutes turn into an hour and then an hour and a half. 

You weave through the crowd with ease, slipping between clusters of people like you belong exactly where you are. As you enter the room, you spot him across from you immediately. 

Dohoon is standing near the far wall with a group of his friends. A drink hangs from his fingers, and someone beside him tells a story that has the whole group laughing. But the moment his eyes sweep across the room and land on you, he’s instantly distracted as his eyes stay glued to you. He takes you in – the way that you look, the way your hair falls around your shoulders.   

He watches you for a moment longer before handing his drink to Youngjae, who’s right beside him. Jihoon claps him on the back as he pushes away from the wall. Dohoon starts making his way toward you, moving carefully between groups of people like he’s trying to keep it casual and not at all obvious. 

You pretend not to notice until he’s standing right in front of you. 

“You came,” he says.

“Yeah, I did.”

He laughs softly at that, the sound nearly lost under the pounding music. For a while, you both hang around each other comfortably. He stays near you, close enough that if you stepped sideways, you’d bump into him. People notice; they always do. Glances flicker your way from across the room. Curious looks from classmates who are clearly trying to figure out what’s going on between the two of you. 

“Yo, Dohoon!”

It’s one of the louder guys from your grade. Martin. He stumbles over, clearly having had a little too much fun. He swings one of his arms around Dohoon’s shoulders like they’ve been friends forever before his gaze lands on you. 

“So what’s this then?”

You just smile at his question. You can feel the way nearby conversations start to quiet as a few heads turn discreetly in your direction. 

“Are you two like, official or what?” Martin asks, gesturing between the two of you with a wide grin. 

You don’t look at Dohoon right away. Instead, you lift your cup and take a slow sip, making sure to keep your expression nothing but neutral. Let him answer. See what he says. 

Dohoon hesitates, not long, but long enough. Then his mouth moves before he can think his answer through. 

“We’re just talking,” he says with a small shrug. 

Just talking. 

The words echo loudly in your ears. 

Someone nearby snickers and you hear a voice mutter, “Knew it.”

Martin laughs like his suspicion has just been confirmed. You just smile. 

“Yeah,” you say, “just talking.”

Then you step away from him. You slip back into the crowd, where Stella and A-na are waiting, before anyone can say anything else. You grab another cup at the drinks table that you don’t really want just to give your hands something to do. 

A-na’s saying something to you, but her voice sounds far away and muffled over the thoughts replaying in your head. Your mind keeps circling back to the same sentence. 

We’re just talking. 

Flashbacks from the past week start replaying in your head, whether you want them to or not. Dohoon leaning against the lockers outside your classroom. Him walking beside you between classes, even when it meant talking the longer route to his own. The way he’d driven you home in the pouring rain, even though you lived in the complete opposite direction. The umbrella tilted over your head while rain soaked through the shoulders of his jacket. At the time, all of it had felt intentional. Like he was trying. Like maybe he meant it after all. 

You swallow as you tighten your grip around the red plastic cup in your hand. 

Maybe it hadn’t meant as much as you thought. 

“(Name)?”

A-na’s waving a hand in front of your eyes. You realize she’s looking at you expectantly. 

“Sorry,” you say quickly, forcing out a small smile. “What were you saying?”

You try to listen this time, you really do. But his voice keeps playing at the back of your mind. 

Just talking. 

Why were you even surprised? Technically, he wasn’t exactly wrong. But maybe it was the way he said it so easily. Like everything from the past week meant nothing more than having a few simple conversations. Like all of it had just been part of the routine he knew how to do simply because that was what he was used to. You had started to believe it was different this time, but now you just feel stupid for it. 

A few minutes later, you and the girls are pushing through the crowd, trying to get to the front door. The quiet of the outside feels jarring after the music that was just blaring in your ears for the past few hours. Stella and A-na are still laughing about something that had happened earlier that night. 

You pull your jacket a little tighter around yourself as you start walking. For once, you don’t have a clear answer waiting in the back of your mind. You don’t know what to think anymore. And more than anything, you really don’t know what to do next.  

—

The rumors reach you the next day. Word spreads like wildfire among the halls, flitting through conversations. If anyone is looking at you differently, you don’t notice. It isn’t until lunch that you’re finally made aware of what everyone’s been whispering about. 

You’re sitting with your friends near the tall windows lining the cafeteria wall. The room is filled with the noise of voices overlapping, trays clattering, chairs dragging against the floor, and the occasional outburst from different tables across the floor. 

“Did you study for the history test?” A-na asks from across the table. 

“Yeah,” you reply with a small shrug. “Actually, I took it this morning. It wasn’t too bad.”

Yuha groans dramatically. 

“Speak for yourself. I barely even finished the study guide. I don’t even want to think about how that test went.”

She then launches into a rant about her math teacher and the incessant amount of homework she has from that class, and the entire table joins in with their own complaints. Juun and Ye-on join her to grumble about their own classes. 

Except Stella hasn’t said much. You notice it when you glance over and see her pushing the noodles around her tray with her fork instead of actually eating them.  

“What’s up with you?” you ask, turning to face her. 

“Nothing,” she says quickly. 

“I was just thinking,” she adds. 

You raise a brow. 

“You’re terrible at lying.”

Stella sighs as she sets her fork down at the edge of her tray. 

“It’s probably nothing,” she says finally, her voice dropping a little. 

“Just tell me.”

She hesitates again, glancing around the room before turning back to the table. 

“Someone said they saw Dohoon last night,” she says. 

“At the party?”

You’re confused. That doesn’t sound strange at all – you were literally there with him for most of the night. 

“Yeah,” she says slowly, “but after we had already left.”

“And then?”

“They said he was with a girl,” Stella continues carefully. “Not you.” 

You purse your lips together. 

“And apparently, he looked really interested in her. Like, she was basically drooling over him and he didn’t stop her.” 

Your stomach drops. 

“What girl?” you ask. 

“I don’t know,” Stella says. “It could literally be nothing. You know how people exaggerate about stuff like this all the time.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek in apprehension. 

“Yeah,” you say. 

“But I just thought I should tell you,” she adds gently, “especially since I heard people talking about it today in class.” 

You nod once as the conversation from the bathroom earlier that week comes rushing back. 

Give it a month. He’ll get bored. He always does. 

You stare at the food sitting untouched on your tray. 

She’s not even his type. She acts like she doesn’t care. That’s the only reason why he’s into it. 

Their laughter replays tauntingly in your memory. 

“Hey,” A-na adds. “It might not mean anything.”

“Right,” you reply automatically. 

You had told yourself from the very beginning that you didn’t need anything from him. That unless he actually expressed his sincerity, unless he made it clear, you weren’t going to expect anything. But somewhere along the way, you let yourself believe him anyway. 

He had texted you this morning, actually. A quick message asking you where you went last night and if you got home safe. You ignored it. And before lunch, you saw him in the hallway between classes. His expression brightened automatically at the sight of you as he waved the moment he noticed you were there. You only offered a small smile in return. You didn’t miss the flicker of confusion on his face, but before he could say anything, you had already made your way back to the classroom. 

His voice sounds through your mind again, louder than the cafeteria around you. 

We’re just talking. 

Normally, you would’ve been annoyed by something like this. You would’ve rolled your eyes, gotten defensive, maybe even snapped back. After all, it would just be another guy who didn’t know his place. But this time, you don’t feel angry. You just feel dejected at the idea that he wasn’t really all that different from the person everyone said he was. And more than anything, you can’t help but blame yourself for convincing yourself otherwise even when everyone else had warned you. 

—

When you reach your classroom, Dohoon is already sitting in the chair next to yours with one arm draped lazily over the backrest. The moment he sees you approaching, he looks up and smiles. 

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you reply as you slide into your seat. 

You make sure to keep your voice as normal and like the way it always is as much as possible. 

He asks you how your morning classes were. You tell him they were fine. You ask if he understood the homework for this class. He groans and complains about how pointless it is. From the outside, nothing about the conversation sounds strange. But something about it feels off, and Dohoon can’t quite put his finger on why. 

Maybe it’s the way you’re looking at your notebook more than you are at him. Or in the way you answer his questions, politely responding but turning back to the teacher right after. 

At some point during class, he leans over to whisper something about the lesson. But instead of leaning toward him the way you usually would, you stay sitting upright in your chair with your hands folded loosely on your desk. It’s subtle, barely noticeable. But it’s all that Dohoon ends up thinking about for the rest of class. By the time the final bell rings that afternoon, the strange feeling has settled uncomfortably in his chest.

He finally works up the nerve to say something just as you’re packing your bag to leave. 

“You heading out?”

“Yeah,” you say, looking at him with a small smile before making your way out of the classroom. 

You’re already halfway down the hallway when Dohoon catches up. 

“(Name).”

You slow down, though mostly because the hallway is crowded and you don’t really have much of a choice. He falls right into step beside you. At first, he just studies your face as the two of you walk toward the exit with the rest of the students. 

“Did I do something?”

“What do you mean?” 

“You’ve been kind of, I don’t know, weird all day.”

You look away at his words. If only he knew how hard you were working to not be word despite everything. 

“No?” you let out, as you settle on denying him. 

He exhales through his nose, clearly trying to figure out how to explain it. 

“You’re just acting differently.”

“Really? I feel like I’m acting the same,” you persist. You don’t know how else to continue the conversation. 

“No,” he says immediately. “You’re not.”

That makes you stop walking. Students weave around the two of you in the hallway as you turn to face him. 

“I’m just doing what you said,” you say as you cross your arms loosely at your chest. 

His brows pull together.

“What I said?”

“You said we’re just talking,” you remind him. “So I’m just talking to you. Like right now.”

Dohoon just stares at you for a second. Then the realization hits.

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

“That’s what you said.”

He runs a hand through his hair, frustration flashing across his face as the implications of his own words sink in. This time, Dohoon doesn’t have a quick response ready. You start to turn away. His hand moves before he can think about it. 

“Wait.”

His fingers close gently around your wrist. You pause, your gaze dropping briefly to his hand before lifting back to his face. He lets go immediately. 

“I messed that up,” he admits.

Your expression doesn’t change.

“At the party,” he continues quickly. “I didn’t think about how it would sound. Everyone was looking and the question just- I said the easiest thing instead of the right thing.”

“You know why it bothered me?” you ask quietly. He shakes his head.

“Because you act like I matter when it’s just us,” you say. “But the second someone else asks about it in front of everyone, suddenly it’s nothing.”

You keep your voice steady. Inside though, your thoughts are racing as you freak out internally from the confrontation unfolding in front of you, though you refuse to let any of it show. 

“It’s confusing. And I don’t want to waste my time figuring out what you actually mean.”

“It’s not nothing,” he says immediately.

“Then why did you say it like that?”

He opens his mouth before closing it again. Because the answer is embarrassingly simple. He didn’t want to deal with what it meant. The fact that somewhere along the way, it stopped being casual. Somewhere along the way, he actually ended up falling for you, despite everything he stood for in the past. And admitting that out loud, in front of everyone, would’ve meant having to deal with that uncertainty. 

Before he can stop himself again, he steps a little closer, lowering his voice so that the people passing by won’t hear him. 

“I like you,” he says, certain. He adds quickly, “And I know that probably doesn’t fix last night.”

You stare at him, completely caught off guard. That was probably the last thing you expected him to say. But he keeps going before you can say anything. 

“I was stupid,” he admits. “And if I made you feel like you didn’t matter, that’s on me. I just needed to tell you properly.”

You’re still staring at him as you try to decide whether or not what you just heard actually counts for anything. 

“That’s great,” you say finally. 

Dohoon frowns at your words. 

“That’s it?”

“That night, I don’t think you hesitated because you were nervous,” you begin slowly. “I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but it looked like you hesitated because you didn’t want to face reality and deal with what it would actually mean if you said yes.”

“Still, you had other options,” you continue.  “While you could’ve said you liked me, you also could’ve said you didn’t want to answer. You could’ve literally said anything else. But instead, you said the one thing that made it sound like I don’t matter.”

“I know,” Dohoon says. “I messed up.”

“I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad,” you add. “I just wanted you to understand why it felt so wrong from my side. Because from the outside, it seemed like you proved everyone right.”

You take a breath before continuing. 

“A few days before the party, I caught a few girls in the bathroom badmouthing whatever it is we have going on right now. They said that you were going to get bored of me eventually and that it wasn’t going to last.”

Dohoon’s already shaking his head before you can finish your sentence. 

“And the first time someone asked you about me in public, you made it sound like I was nothing,” you say, your voice quieter now. 

“That’s not true,” he says immediately. “And what those girls said in the bathroom, that’s definitely not true either.”

His voice is firm now.  “I don’t see you as just a phase or a fling. I like you. Not just when it’s convenient, and not just when no one’s watching. I genuinely like you. I just didn’t say it the right way. I panicked. That night, everyone was staring and the guy was being loud and I just, I didn’t think before I spoke.”

You study his face carefully, searching for any hint that he’s just saying what you want to hear. But then you think back to the way he always saves the seat next to him in class. To the times he draped his jacket over your shoulders when the classroom gets too cold. The random texts about how the cafeteria is serving your favorite, even though you never remember telling him what it was. The afternoons he stayed behind with you after school when you were stressing over exams. And the day it rained so hard the streets were flooding a little, when he still insisted on driving you home, even though it meant going completely out of his way. He wasn’t always perfect, but it wasn’t like he didn’t try. Deep down, whether you want to admit it or not, you know he didn’t put in that effort for no reason.  

“To be clear,” you say after a moment, “I’m not asking for a title or anything right now. But, I also don’t want to spend my time with someone who’s embarrassed to admit the truth whenever someone asks them.”

The relief on his face appears immediately. For the first time since yesterday, Dohoon feels like he might still have a chance, like he might not have ruined everything. 

“It’ll never happen again,” Dohoon reassures. “I’ll do it right this time.”

And he means it. From the very beginning, he knew that if he wanted to be with you, he couldn’t treat it like something just for the fun of it. But the more he got to know you, the more he realized that you were actually someone he didn’t want to lose at all. 

He hesitates before adding, “If you let me.”

“Well,” you finally say, the corners of your lips lifting slightly. “you have a lot to make up for then.”

“Yes ma’am!” Dohoon exclaims immediately. 

His response is so fast and so unnecessarily dramatic that you can’t stop the small laugh that escapes you before you can stop it. 

Dohoon grins, clearly pleased that he managed to get that reaction out of you. 

“Wait,” you say before you can finally relax. “One more thing.”

“I heard a lot of people today saying you were with a girl at that party after I left,” you say carefully. “That you were flirting with her. So if you’re into her too, I’m not going to hold you back.” 

He looks at you for a moment, thoroughly confused. Then, he realizes. 

“That’s not what it was,” he says quickly. “I actually meant to clear that up with you today after I heard people talking about it. I was worried you’d hear about it and get the wrong idea. That day, I wasn’t flirting with her at all. In fact, she came up to me and started talking, and I told her I wasn’t interested.”

“Oh. That’s not what I heard,” you say. 

“Yeah, I noticed,” he says. “What I actually said was that I liked someone else. And somehow, everyone decided to turn that into me flirting.”

“You told her you liked someone else?” you repeat.

“Yeah.”

“And who exactly is this mysterious person?”

For the first time since you stopped him, a faint smile starts to tug at the corner of his mouth. 

“You really need me to spell it out?” 

You shrug, turning as if to walk away. 

“Well if you don’t want to, I guess I’ll just leave then. You can go find that girl instead.” 

You’re clearly teasing him, but the second you take a step, he panics. 

“No – wait, wait,” he exclaims, reaching out instinctively. “I was talking about you!”

“Relax,” you say, laughing at the way he freaked out. “I was just kidding.”

“Just so we’re clear,” he says, nudging your shoulder as the two of you finally push through the doors and step outside. “I meant it when I said I’d take this seriously.”

The late afternoon air is cooler outside, and the last groups of students trickle down the steps and across the parking lot. 

“I sure hope you did,” you tease. 

And this time, you know you can trust him.

—

Basketball practice ends with the final echo of the coach’s whistle. The team disperses quickly after that, with some heading straight for the showers while others collapse onto the benches with exhaustion. Dohoon grabs a towel from his bag and drapes it around his neck. He wipes the sweat from his face before reaching for his water bottle. 

“Alright,” Jihoon says suddenly, tossing his water bottle onto the bench next to Dohoon. “Serious question.”

He points at him as Dohoon takes a sip of his own water. 

“What’s going on with you lately?”

Dohoon doesn’t even look up as he rummages through his bag. 

“What do you mean?”

A few of the other guys perk up at their conversation. 

“I mean,” Keonho says, leaning back against the bleachers, “you’ve been leaving right after practice. You skipped Minjae’s party last weekend too.”

“And,” Seonghyeon adds with a grin, nodding towards Dohoon, “every time I see you, you’re with her.”

Dohoon rolls his eyes slightly. 

“Mind your business.”

Jihoon just watches him, clearly entertained. 

Down the bench, someone elbows the guy next to him. 

“Wait, are they actually a thing now?”

"Not yet," Dohoon says after a moment, "but hopefully soon."

“No way,” James blurts out, pushing himself upright so he’s sitting up straighter. “Bro actually folded.”

“There’s no way he’s being serious,” someone says with a laugh. Minjae’s best friend, of course. 

“I bet ten bucks he’s going to lose interest in like three days,” another guy calls out. 

A few of them snicker. 

“Yeah,” Keonho chimes in. “You’ve never lasted longer than what, two weeks?”

“She’s not a fling,” Dohoon says simply, finally looking up. “It’s different this time.” 

James raises his hands in mock surrender, though he’s still grinning. 

“Relax, we’re just saying. Your track record isn’t all that great.”

“Seriously,” Minjae’s friend says. “You can’t blame us for thinking that this is just another phase.”

“Yeah,” someone adds, leaning forward. “Fifteen bucks says he’s moved on already before finals.”

A few guys laugh again. 

“No, I think it’s serious this time,” Jihoon says, glancing at Dohoon before looking back at the others. 

Dohoon shakes his head as he gathers the rest of his stuff. 

“She’s not some kind of bet,” he says, his voice clear. 

“So what, you’re like locked in now?” Minjae’s friend asks, still not convinced. 

“I like her,” Dohoon clarifies. “And I don’t plan on messing that up anytime soon.” 

“Damn,” Seonghyeon laughs. “He’s actually down bad.”

“Shut up,” Dohoon mutters, though there’s no real heat behind it. 

None of them notice the figure standing quietly just outside of the gym doors. 

You hadn’t meant to hear everything. You were just passing by the gym to grab Juun’s water bottle, the one she had texted you about leaving there earlier. But then you heard your name. And then the betting. So you stayed, just long enough to hear everything that Dohoon said.

Inside, the guys start grabbing their things as you hear them stand up and walk towards the door. That’s your cue. You push open the double doors and exit before anyone can come through the entrance. By the time Dohoon leaves a few minutes later, the hallway is already empty. 

—

The carnival sprawls across a wide, grassy field, buzzing with the cheerful chaos of the crowd. Stalls line winding paths, each one bursting with colorful lanterns, flashing lights, and the sweet scent of sweet treats and sizzling street food. The soft thrum of a distant stage where live music plays carries through the space. You, Dohoon, your friends, and his friends decided to visit one weekend after school as a way to hang out together.

Stella is already dragging A-na and Ye-on toward another stand, and all three of them are juggling skewers and cups like they haven’t eaten in days. Yuha and Juun hang back a little as they angle their phones out to take pictures. Off to the side, Dohoon and everyone else joke around as they scramble to keep up. 

Your eyes linger when you walk past one of the booths with a ring toss game. Glass bottles line the middle, and shelves are stacked high with oversized plushes that look a little too nice to be won fairly. 

Dohoon notices and motions for you to follow him. 

“You’re not winning that,” you say immediately, though you follow him anyway. 

“Says who?” he fires back immediately. 

“Says me. Those things are always rigged.”

“That doesn’t apply to me,” he replies, already handing over some cash to the person running the game. “I always win these.”

You cross your arms, pretending to look unimpressed. 

“Right.”

Dohoon picks up the first ring and rolls his shoulders in an attempt to look serious. He tosses. It hits the neck of the bottle and bounces right off. 

He grabs another one. Misses again. 

You press your lips together, clearly holding back a smile.

“I thought you always win,” you tease. 

“Relax,” he mutters, grabbing the last ring. 

He tosses it, and it lands cleanly over the bottle. 

Dohoon turns to you as a small, satisfied grin spreads across his face. He looks as if he just knew it would happen eventually. 

“So, which one do you want?” he asks, pointing at the selection of plushies ranging from teddy bears to bunnies to puppies. 

“I don’t know,” you admit, still a little surprised that he managed to win one in the first place. “Which one do you want?”

“You pick,” he says easily. “It’s for you anyway.”

You hesitate for a second and then point. 

“The teddy bear. The one with the heart.”

The vendor reaches up and hands over a cream colored stuffed bear hugging a pink heart. The plushie looks a lot bigger than you expected when it’s actually in Dohoon’s hands. He turns back to you and holds it out. 

“Told you I’d get one.”

You look at him. Then down at the bear. Then back at him again. 

“It kind of looks like you,” you say, obviously joking as you take it from him. 

He raises an eyebrow. 

“I’d like to think I’m way better looking.”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. 

“Mmm. I don’t know about that…”

“Give it back then,” Dohoon exclaims, reaching out to take it back. 

You laugh at his betrayed expression and shake your head as you pull it towards you immediately. 

“It’s mine now!”

Dohoon watches you and laughs, smiling at your antics. 

—

By the time the sun has fully set, the group has settled across the grass lawn. Stella’s already lying down and using Ian’s arm as a pillow. Yuha, A-na, and Ye-on sit nearby as they chat over ice cream. 

You end up sitting between Juun and Dohoon with your new plushie sitting on your lap. 

Then, the first few fireworks go off. A sharp crack sounds, followed by colors of gold blooming across the sky. The light flickers across everyone’s faces. You tilt your head back with everyone else, watching the bursts of reds, pinks, and greens against the navy sky. 

“Hey.”

You turn your head to Dohoon, who’s already looking at you. 

“What?” you ask. 

Another firework bursts overhead, lighting his face for a split second. You can’t help but think about how good he looks right now. 

He just stares at you like he forgot what he was going to say the moment you looked at him. 

“You’re holding it like it’s actually yours.”

You blink and look down at the bear in your lap. 

“It is mine.”

He nods toward the plushie. 

“I could still take it back, you know.”

You pull it a little closer instinctively. 

“No you can’t, it’s already mine.”

“Pretty sure I paid for it.”

“But you gave it to me. And plus, I picked it out, which is arguably much more important,” you reason. 

He laughs quietly and shakes his head. 

“Unbelievable.”

You glance back up toward the sky. 

“Thanks,” you say after a second. 

He looks at you again. 

“For what?”

“For today. It was fun.”

“Really?” he asks, his eyes lighting up. “I’m glad. I had lots of fun too.”

For a while, both of you stay silent as you continue watching the fireworks light up the sky. 

“Hey,” Dohoon says again. 

You glance at him, already expecting him to say something unserious again.

“What now?”

“Well, I was thinking,” he starts, then pauses, like he’s trying to get the words right. “About what you said before.”

“That could mean a lot of things. What did I say?”

“About not wanting to waste your time,” he clarifies. 

You don’t say anything right away, but your fingers curl a little tighter around the teddy bear in your lap. 

“I meant it when I said I’d do things properly,” he continues. 

“So,” he says, a little unsure for once, “can I be your boyfriend?”

“You’re asking me?” you say like you just want to make sure you heard him right.

“Yeah,” he says, “I am.”

“Okay.” 

“Really?”

You nod, smiling at the way he looks so nervous. 

“Yeah,” you say softly. 

Then he lets out a quiet laugh and runs a hand through his hair. 

“So does that mean I get that back?” he asks, pointing at the bear again. 

You immediately pull it closer to your chest.

“No.”

He pretends to let it go but reaches over like he’s about to grab it anyway. You turn your body away instantly. 

“Dohoon. Do you really want it that badly?”

“No, no, I’m just checking,” he says, a grin wide on his face. 

“You’re actually unbelievable.”

He shrugs, completely unbothered.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re my girlfriend now anyway.”

You shake your head, trying to hold back a smile. Another firework lights everything up in a soft gold hue before fading again. 

Somewhere behind you, your friends are still talking, laughing, completely caught up in their own conversations. 

"Why did you show up here without even asking first? You're gonna embarrass me in front of these sponsors. Why do you always think I want to see you at work? It's so unprofessional!"

It was a perfect combination of stress and tiredness snowballing into an overreaction. If Dohoon had been thinking straight, he should have melted on the spot at your gesture. Showing up at his ad shoot with a homemade lunch and a cute little sticky note to wish him luck. You weren't planning to stay long. You wouldn't even be in the way. You know how stressed he's been lately and just wanted to ease it the best way you know how. You didn't think it would end up backfiring on you.

"Fine. If that's how you feel, you should have let me know earlier. I'll leave before I embarrass you more. Have a good lunch. I'm sure it'll be better than what I made anyway."

You let the water drip down the side of your cheek as you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror and replay the argument again in your head. Dohoon came home an hour ago and you've been hiding yourself in the bathroom ever since. The lunch you had taken to him sits abandoned in the fridge, still in its box. The heart-shaped sticky note lays crumpled in the trash can.

Your tear stains are still visible, as are the faint red rims around your eyes. Knowing Dohoon, he will probably notice if you gave him the opportunity. Washing your face had done nothing much to conceal what the past hours have been spent doing.

You don’t like fighting with him. Most of your anger has drained away leaving only a sparse and broken sadness. You are calmer now, but not yet ready to forgive him. He will need to ask for that from you.

You’ve fought with him before and you know how he gets. So stubborn and unmoving until he sees your tears, notices that his words aren’t just something you’ll shrug off like his friends. They mean a lot more to you. You take everything a lot harder.

Dohoon isn’t in bed when you come out of the bathroom. You wonder if he’s decided to sleep on the couch tonight. Or, perhaps he’s still annoyed with you and avoiding contact. You decide you won’t waste your time worrying about him and tell yourself that you don’t care where he sleeps or what he’s thinking.

It’s a lie. Of course it is.

As you lay in bed, your only thought is him.

Dohoon, Dohoon, Dohoon.

Is he tired? Exhausted from the shoot? Did he eat lunch? Is he still mad at you? If he sleeps on the couch, will he be uncomfortable? How long has he felt like this—annoyed and embarrassed that you’re his girlfriend? Does he want to break up with you?

You don’t want to break up with him, and the thought of it starts to panic you. To your dismay, tears start to prick again. Dohoon is the best thing in your life. Even with the fight today, he’s still everything to you, and you want him; stubbornness included.

The bed dips, and you realize Dohoon must have come in without you realizing. He must think you are already asleep, as your back faces the bedroom door and you’ve been completely still, consumed by your thoughts.

You quiet your breath and bite your lip to keep your tears at bay. He'll hear you if you don't. He'll see you crying, and then he'll feel horrible. And as much as you were angry at him earlier, you'll feel worse if you see him guilty.

You know he's looking at you. Somehow, without even turning, you can feel his gaze on you. And it's heavy, like he wants to say something but is hesitating. Your lip trembles and suddenly it's too hard to hold it in. Your tears burst through, and before you can stop it, a quiet sob escapes you.

Dohoon sits up, eyes wide, throat tight. He was sure you were asleep. He was relieved when he walked into the bedroom and saw you already under the covers. He didn't guess that you were still awake all this time, and doing your best to not cry. You have always hated crying in front of others.

"Y/n?"

It comes out strained and soft, the words still clinging to a fraction of hesitance. But they fight their way out, and your name on his lips breaks through your raging thoughts. You press your face into your pillow and try to steady your breathing. You can't stop your tears from sheer willpower, but you still try to.

When Dohoon's hand touches your shoulder, the tension in your muscles is dispelled.

"Y/n, let me hold you. Can I? Please?"

Your brain barely processes what he's saying, but your body seems to understand without it. You shift just slightly closer to him, enough to invite more. Soon enough he's pulling you against his chest and holding you tightly. You're wrapped up completely in his arms, tears swallowed into his hoodie, and the scent of his cologne clinging to your senses. It's almost surprising how much better you feel just by being in his arms.

"Did you mean what you said earlier? You're embarrassed by me?" you ask quietly. You feel Dohoon suck in a sharp breath, and his hand gently stroke your back.

"I shouldn't have said it. I'm sorry. I regretted it immediately. Of course I'm not embarrassed of you. I'm only embarrassed of what I said earlier."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was coming. I should have asked first."

Dohoon shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead.

"You shouldn't have to apologize for it. How lucky am I to have my girlfriend surprise me with lunch at work? I'm stupid to have acted that way. I was just stressed."

"You made me feel horrible."

Your voice is still choked up, but most of your tears are dried. Dohoon cups your cheeks, his thumbs swiping over the salty tracks your tears left on your face. His eyes are glassy and regretful.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I love you." He kisses you between apologies, his lips softer than you've felt in a long time. "I'm sorry. I love you so much. I'm sorry."

It doesn't take long for you to melt into his touch, and soon you're kissing him back just as desperately. The ache in your chest calms to a hush as Dohoon dotes on you, pressing kisses to any inch of skin he can reach.

"You know," you mumble with a laugh. Dohoon still holds your face close to his, forehead pressed against yours. "I couldn't stop worrying about you earlier. Even though I was angry at you, even when I thought you might…"

"Might what? What did you think?"

"That you might want to break up with me," you say finally. Dohoon's eyebrows furrow. You can tell he's beating himself up inside for even letting you think like this. You smile at him. "I know it's stupid. I know you don't want to break up. It was just… I was spiralling."

Dohoon seems to relax, but his eyes still search your face for any sign of discomfort. He only pulls away once he's sure you're feeling better. The exhaustion from the day and comfort of being in Dohoon's arms again hits you all at once, and sleep comes quickly for you.

Dohoon stays awake for a while. He soaks in the sight of you sleeping soundly in his arms and promises himself he won't ever let something like today happen again. He'll never make you feel like that again, never let you doubt him or his love for you. He hopes that sleep will wash away the guilt that still stirs in the pit of his stomach. Even though you've already forgiven him, he still wants to make it up to you. It's the least he can do.

© slytherinshua ── do not repost translate or copy　⸝⸝⸝　join my taglist!

@fantasia-films @k-records

01 . applications

02 . woonhak stfu

03 . i’m in …?

04 . first encounters are always hard

05 . test drives

06 . are you up ?

07 . group dinner again ??

08 . shinyu’s first win

09 . oh him ?

10 . dohoon’s vlog …

11 . siblings day out !! ft leehan

12 . sneak outs & talks

13 . graduation day !

14 . ceo’s email …?!

15 . texts count btw

.✦ ݁˖ heeheesang notes ꪆৎ hai hello annyeong :3 welcome to my tws writer debut …? this will be a short and simple smau just for me to get back on track with writing ! i hope everyone loves this as much as i do hehe 🍀 the tags are so hard to find omg 😭

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಄ gifted — @kiiuya @xionvlog @mariiyix @jellyluvsjihoon @pixlluv @novody @twsforlife @hraethy @chryysoo @kyunari @madheeeee

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Shinyuㅤ ❛❛    ──── ㅤShin Junghwan !

Days off were rare.

More rare than Shinyu would like to admit.

There was always something: practices, meetings, recordings, schedules full of things to do.

But not today.

Today, by some perfect alignment of the stars, the group had the day off, and they were making the best possible use of it: doing absolutely nothing.

Just the seven of you, spread out in the living room, enjoying a quiet moment while deciding what to have for breakfast.

He was leaning back on one end of the couch, his phone in hand, flipping through the menu with the others. He was barely paying attention to the discussion of what to order. It was a din of mingled voices and banter thrown into the air. You were at the other end, lounging against the armrest, with a sleepy expression that made him smile without realizing it. The dim light of the room highlighted the contours of your face, and Shinyu found his gaze straying to you more times than necessary.

It wasn't unusual. It happened to him all the time.

The conversation flowed smoothly, until Jihoon asked you to help Shinyu confirm the final order.

Shinyu barely registered the request.

His attention was on you, on the way you gently sat up to reach over and take his phone. It was a simple, everyday movement even, but for him it was enough. As if his body acted before his mind, in a single, fluid motion he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to him effortlessly, sinking you against his chest naturally.

The contact was warm. Your body fit over his as if you had always belonged there. There was no resistance on your part, only a small initial startle before you gradually settled against him. Shinyu felt an almost instinctive satisfaction run through his body as you rested your head on his chest, letting yourself fall completely on top of him.

Yes. That was better.

He loved this. He loved you.

-Mmm… it's good like this, isn't it? -you murmured, still checking the phone.

-Mhmm… -Shinyu barely answered, his voice distracted, too focused on you to pay attention to anything else.

You confirmed the order, and the others, satisfied, scattered around the room, each minding their own business while waiting for the food. But Shinyu had not the slightest intention of moving. Not when he had you like this, perfectly wedged against him.

He could feel the rhythm of your breathing becoming slower, more relaxed. The heat of your body against his was addictive.

With a relaxed motion, he reached out to take control when Dohoon challenged him to a game of Mario Kart. Perfect. He could play without thinking too much. He moved just enough to grab the controller, but not enough to alter the position you were in. If anything, his grip on your waist became tighter, making sure you didn't move too much. Kyungmin and Jihoon joined in right away, but even as the competition began and laughter filled the room, his mind wasn't quite on the game.

Sure, his reflexes were still good, his fingers pressed the buttons as nimbly as ever, but a large part of him was distracted.

How could he not be?

He had you lying completely on top of him, breathing softly against his chest, not complaining about his grip or the way he was holding you close. Without realizing it, his hand moved, his fingers tracing small circles on the fabric of your shirt. He wasn't sure if he was doing it to reassure you or himself. Maybe both.

And then you did.

Without warning, you moved just a little, seeking more comfort, fitting better against him. It was a small gesture, almost imperceptible, but Shinyu felt it as a direct blow to the heart. A shiver ran down his back as you made yourself even smaller in his embrace, as if you were exactly where you wanted to be.

Oh.

Oh.

Shinyu barely blinked, barely reacted. His character on the screen crashed into a wall and Dohoon let out a victorious laugh, but he didn't even flinch. He just looked down, watching you with a tenderness he had no right to display so openly. His attention was on the way his own heart began to beat a little faster.

It couldn't have been more obvious. He was completely lost for you.

He let out a slow sigh, one that was lost amidst the sound of the game and the voices in the room, but which inside him echoed like a silent surrender. Because deep down, there was no point in fooling himself anymore.

It was ridiculous how much he liked this. How much he liked you.

The game went on, the others laughed and complained about unfair plays, but to him, it was all background noise. He didn't need to say it out loud, but if it were up to Shinyu, the whole world could stop in that instant, and he wouldn't mind at all.

He just needed this moment. Just the simple fact of feeling you so close was enough.

Dohoonㅤ ❛❛    ──── ㅤKim Dohoon !

Mornings always had a different rhythm for Dohoon.

They were slow, sleepy, with the warmth of the sheets still clinging to his skin and the feeling of drowsiness weighing down his eyelids. Not because he was tired-though sometimes he was-but because in the mornings he wanted you close. Closer than was reasonable, closer than others would surely consider normal. And today, with a whole day off until evening, there was no reason to hold back.

He opened his eyes heavily and, before he even thought of getting out of bed, he noticed your absence. You were gone. He frowned, still drowsy, and without even thinking too much about it, he stood up. He didn't need to ask anyone where you were; his instinct led him straight to the kitchen.

And there you were.

Standing in front of the counter, opening the bags with the coffees and drinks the manager had ordered for everyone. The morning light filtered through the window, illuminating you in an almost unreal way. To Dohoon, who was not yet fully awake, the image was too pretty, too perfect.

Without much thought, he approached you silently, shuffling his feet with the laziness of someone not yet fully awake. And then, as soon as he was close enough, he wrapped his arms around your waist and dropped down against you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

God, it felt so good.

Your warmth, your smell, the way you fit perfectly against him as if you were a magnet he always ended up sticking to… Everything about you was addictive to him. He closed his eyes, gently inhaling the scent of your skin mixed with that of coffee, and smiled against your neck when he felt you wouldn't pull away. You didn't make the slightest effort to break free from his grip, you just went about your business, as if you were used to him clinging to you like a koala bear every morning.

And you were.

Gently, without opening his eyes, he rubbed his nose against your skin, taking deep breaths.

There was no way he could start the day without this.

He opened his eyes when he saw your hand move, bringing your latte to your lips. He watched intently, not moving an inch from his place on your neck, as you calmly took a sip. And then, without a word, you brought the straw close to his mouth in a gesture so natural that it made his heart beat faster.

Without hesitation, he caught the straw between his lips and took a sip straight from your drink, his eyes narrowing in pleasure at the sweet, warm taste of the latte. But more than the coffee itself, what he really enjoyed was the gesture itself.

The fact that you shared with him without thinking about it.

There was something intimate in the way you shared these little things. In how they didn't need words, in how you just knew what he wanted, in how he could be glued to you without seeming to make you uncomfortable.

God. How lucky he was.

He drank some more before releasing the straw and sinking back against you, this time squeezing you a little tighter, enveloping you with his body as if he wanted to become part of you.

Your soft laughter vibrated against his chest and, without warning, you caressed his face, your fingers sliding gently down his cheek, along his jaw, a light but loving touch. Dohoon closed his eyes at the sensation, letting himself be pampered, letting you do whatever you wanted with him, because he was already completely yours.

If it were up to him, he could stay like this all day.

But then, his stomach decided to betray him.

Dohoon pouted a little, stirring against you before muttering in a low, sleepy voice:

-I'm hungry…

You just smiled, amused, and barely moved to go get your phone, surely to order food for everyone. But Dohoon had no intention of letting go.

Like a koala clinging to his favorite tree, he stayed glued to you, following you wherever you went, his arms still around your waist, his body still against yours as you tried to open the ordering app.

It was ridiculous how easy it was for him to stay that way, entangled with you even when you were on the move.

-What do you want to eat? -You asked, looking at the screen of your phone.

Dohoon rested his chin on your shoulder, watching the screen lazily. But actually, he wasn't looking at the menu.

He was just looking at you.

Stunned, completely absorbed in the way your brow furrowed just barely as you chose the food, in the way your mouth curved subtly as you read the choices. You knew him well enough to know exactly what to ask him without him having to say anything, but you still asked, because you cared about his opinion.

And that, that was what finished disarming him completely.

He snuggled closer against you, closing his eyes for a moment and letting his weight rest against your body without fear that you would push him away. Because he knew you wouldn't. Because, like him, you enjoyed this too.

If the rest of the day was going to be like this, glued to you, feeling your warmth, sharing every little moment of the morning, then for Dohoon, this was already the best day off of all.

Youngjaeㅤ ❛❛    ──── ㅤChoi Youngjae !

The day had ended earlier than expected, but Youngjae was in no hurry to leave.

Not when he could seize a moment like this.

Not when you were there, so close, so… perfect for him.

The practice room was still illuminated in the soft afternoon light, and Jihoon, as always, had energy to spare to keep dancing, moving with enviable ease as he improvised steps in front of the mirror, and Youngjae… well, Youngjae was just tired. He watched out of the corner of his eye, amused by his dongsaeng's witticisms, but his mind was elsewhere.

Or, rather, on someone else.

You were there, leaning against the mirror, relaxed, not paying much attention to anything but Jihoon. Youngjae watched you silently for a few seconds, noticing the way your expression softened when you were deep in thought, how your lips curved into a smile when Jihoon did something silly. It was nothing serious, just fun. But Youngjae wasn't particularly interested in that right now.

The only thing he was interested in was you.

He didn't know how or why, but whenever you were around, he needed to find an excuse to be attached to you somehow.

And Youngjae, he wanted you close.

He didn't have a clear reason; he simply wanted you close.

Without a word, he came over and lay down on top of you, resting his head carefully on your lap.

The relief was immediate.

And, as if you were perfectly in sync with him, you lifted your arms a little to give him space, allowing him to settle in better. Youngjae wrapped his arms around your waist leisurely, breathing deeply against the fabric of your clothes, letting your warmth envelop him. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the contact, the feeling of being close to you without needing to say anything.

Youngjae sighed softly, as he listened to Jihoon's laughter, so lively and full of energy. He could hear the jokes and the silly things he was doing; And he couldn't help but smile at the scene.

But even as he did so, his mind was still on you.

It wasn't more than a few seconds before he felt your hands move, instinctively moving down to his hair. And there it was, that gesture he so adored. The brush of your fingers through her locks, the light pressure of your nails against her scalp, the slow, steady rhythm that made every muscle in her body relax little by little.

Yes. Just like that.

It was almost ridiculous how much he enjoyed this. The way your fingers ran through his hair as naturally as you breathed, in how your nails gently grazed his scalp, sending little shivers of pleasure down his back. Each caress was like a silent confirmation that he had every right in the world to be here, glued to you, claiming your attention without needing to ask for it.

He opened his eyes just a little, just enough to see you laughing at some nonsense of Jihoon's; moving in an exaggerated way just to make you smile, and Youngjae felt a pang of tenderness in his chest to see you like that.

God, he adored your laugh.

He couldn't see you completely from his position, but he could feel your laughter in the subtle vibration of your body against him. But he didn't have the energy to join in the antics at that moment. Not when he was so comfortable, not when your fingers kept sliding through his hair with a gentleness that made him sink deeper and deeper into the sensation of being with you.

He didn't need you to do anything else.

He wasn't thinking about anything else, just that.

About how it felt when he held you close, when he felt your body so close to his. All he could think about was the warmth of your body under his head, the softness of your fingers sliding through his hair, how each caress felt like a gesture of affection that he didn't ask for, but needed.

It was that feeling, that simple, genuine attention, that had him completely spellbound.

And, for an instant, he thought that maybe, if he could, he would stay that way forever.

He didn't want to move.

He didn't want that moment to end.

And best of all, you weren't even making him uncomfortable about it. You liked it. It was like a kind of silent language that only the two of you shared: you taking care of him without thinking about it, him soaking up the comfort of your company.

And he enjoyed every second of it.

But, of course, something told him that eventually he would have to get up, that Jihoon would stop his madness and the rest of the group would return to the dormitories. For now, though, as you gently caressed him, as his mind completely melted away in that warmth that only you provided, everything seemed perfect just the way it was.

It is perfect.

Hanjinㅤ ❛❛    ──── ㅤHan Zhen !

The dorm was quiet, an unusual tranquility after days filled with practices and tight schedules. Everyone was scattered around the apartment, each doing their own thing, taking advantage of the rare free time. Hanjin, however, only had his attention on one thing - or, rather, one person.

You.

You were sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall, with his Korean book open between you.

Technically, he was studying.

Technically, you were helping him.

But in reality, Hanjin was just enjoying the perfect excuse to have you around.

At first, everything had been normal. You were correcting his pronunciation, patiently explaining grammatical structures, and he was nodding, making the effort to repeat them correctly. But honestly, he was having a hard time. Not because he didn't want to learn, but because his attention was elsewhere.

On you.

In the way you spoke patiently, explaining every detail with that sweetness that disarmed him. In how your voice sounded so natural when you explained to him in Mandarin so that he would understand better the meaning of the words, so comfortable, so you. In the closeness between you, in the warmth of your body next to his, in how easy it was to be with you like that.

As the lesson progressed, Hanjin felt more and more… comfortable.

Almost too comfortable.

Everything about you had him completely caught up.

At some point in the lesson - without even thinking too much about it - he reached out and pulled you to his side, drawing you in as easily as he breathed.

You said nothing. You just let yourself go, settling against him without complaint or question. As if this kind of contact was something as natural as the air between you.

Hanjin liked that.

He felt comfortable with you.

He liked how easy it was to touch you, how easy it was to envelop you with his presence without you pushing him away. He rested his head against your shoulder at one point, feeling the warmth of your skin, the rhythm of your breathing, the simple fact of having you there.

Your warmth, your familiar scent… It was so easy. It was so easy that he almost forgot they were still studying.

And then, he felt your hand move.

Your fingers gently ran through his hair, a brief touch but enough to make him feel that you were there, acknowledging his presence, responding to his need for contact without him having to ask for it.

Such a simple gesture.

But as your hand ran through his hair, Hanjin seemed to have no intention of letting go. On the contrary, he pulled you to him more tightly, pressing you even tighter against his side. A shiver ran down his back, he liked it too much when you did that.

But then, you broke the balance of the moment with a few words.

-我去拿点吃的，我们休息一下吧 - (I'm going to go get a snack, let's get some rest).

No.

Before you could even move, his body reacted on its own. His arms around your waist tightened subtly, drawing you back effortlessly. He needed no words, only the weight of his grip, refusing to let go, as if letting you go was simply an unacceptable option.

You looked down at him with amusement. Hanjin noticed it. He noticed it in the way your lips curved just barely, in the mischievous light in your eyes, as if you were waiting for him to say something else.

And he did.

-不要，待在这儿 - (No, stay here.)

His voice was low, almost a whisper against your skin. The way he said those words, his tone soft but firm, made your heart beat a little faster.

And you… you couldn't resist.

He smiled without another word, enjoying the way you settled back in next to him.

He wasn't one to ask for things with grandiose words. He wasn't usually pushy about what he wanted. But with you, everything was different. With you, he had the luxury of being a little more selfish, of wanting more than he normally allowed himself.

And Hanjin knew what he wanted, and it was simple: he wanted to stay that way, glued to you.

-好吧 - (It's okay.)

You whispered with a smile, surrendering easily to his grip.

He didn't have to say much for you to understand.

Because, in the end, you wanted to stay that way too.

Jihoonㅤ ❛❛    ──── ㅤHan Jihoon !

After weeks of work without a break, the arrival of this rare day off had given Jihoon a much-needed respite.

He emerged from the bathroom with his hair still damp, feeling the warmth of the shower still clinging to his skin. The hot water had relaxed his muscles, but it had also left him with a drowsiness he could barely conceal. His eyelids drooped slightly as he toweled his hair dry, but as soon as he looked up and saw you in his bed, all the heaviness seemed to fade for a moment.

You were lying there, laughing at something Dohoon had said from the other bed. Your voice, your laughter, the mere sight of you there made Jihoon feel a tug in his chest.

The scene was so domestic, so quiet… That his mind had only one clear thought….

He wanted to be there with you.

He didn't think about it too much. In fact, he didn't think at all.

With lazy steps, he crossed the room and, without warning, dropped his full weight on you. Not gently, not with any warning, just with the full weight of his body, as if you were a pillow made exclusively for him.

The air left your lungs in a surprised gasp, followed by a burst of laughter as you tried, unsuccessfully, to protest between guffaws, but that only made him smile against the fabric of your clothes.

It didn't bother you at all, and he knew it.

-Jihoon -you said, your voice cracking -You're too heavy, get off! -you finished with a chuckle, patting him gently on the back. But he didn't move.

Not immediately, at least.

He just got more comfortable.

-No -he murmured in a sleepy voice, letting his arm wrap lazily around your waist, making sure you weren't going to slip away.

Dohoon, from his bed, chuckled as well, surely enjoying the scene, but Jihoon was already too comfortable to pay attention to you. His attention was completely on you, on how your breathing was still agitated by the laughter, on how your body was slowly relaxing under his. He could feel the steady beat of your heart under his cheek, a rhythmic, comforting sound that made his own eyelids feel heavier, plus the way that, despite your playful complaints, you made no real effort to push him away.

Jihoon sighed against your skin, completely content with the position he was in.

And just as you knew would happen, you ended up surrendering with a sigh and, without thinking too much about it, started playing with his damp hair.

If he wasn't so tired, he probably would have smiled self-satisfiedly. But instead, he just closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh, completely surrendered to the gesture.

God.

It was his weakness.

He didn't need words, he didn't need anything else. Just your hand in his hair, the gentle rhythm of your caresses and the sound of your voice returning to the conversation with Dohoon as if you didn't have a whole human being lying on top of you.

He enjoyed this very much.

But he couldn't fall asleep.

He forced himself to open his eyes, though his sight was a blur of shadows and warm lights in the room. He didn't want to surrender to sleep so quickly. Not when he could stretch this moment out a little longer.

He heard your voice conversing with Dohoon, though the words became a distant echo, a soft melody that cradled him unwillingly. He felt your laughter vibrate against his chest, your breathing slow as you continued to play with his hair.

He blinked slowly, clinging to the feel of your touch, the sound of your voice, the way your body molded to his.

But it was useless.

As exhaustion overtook him more, his breathing grew heavier, slower. Every caress on his hair dragged him deeper into drowsiness, every brush of your fingers made his body feel heavier, more relaxed. He wanted to protest, to tell you to stop, that if you kept this up he was going to fall asleep on you, but all that came out of his mouth was an incoherent mumble.

And then, without being able to help it, his eyelids gave way.

His breathing slowed, his body completely surrendered against yours. In the last moment before he fell asleep, he felt the brush of your lips on his forehead - soft, fleeting, like a whisper that carried away any attempt at struggle.

He lost.

But if falling asleep meant being like this, glued to you, with your warmth enveloping him and your fingers in his hair… then maybe losing wasn't so bad after all.

Kyungminㅤ ❛❛    ──── ㅤLee Kyungmin !

Kyungmin couldn't sleep.

The rented house was completely silent. Well, not complete silence-the sound of his hyungs' leisurely breathing, mixed with the occasional murmur of Jihoon moving in his sleep, reminded him that he was trapped in a confined space with three other people.

And that was the problem.

Dohoon, Hanjin, and Jihoon, in their infinite trust, had decided that it didn't matter that the bed was clearly for one or two people at most -they would sleep there anyway.

And they had done so without any respect for the concept of “personal space.”

There was no space. Not a shred of it.

He stirred for the umpteenth time between the bodies of Jihoon, Dohoon, and Hanjin, trapped in a ridiculously small space in the bed they shared. It had been fun at first, pushing and shoving, teasing and laughing until they were all completely exhausted. But now, with Dohoon glued to the other end of the bed, Jihoon completely unconscious, one arm draped over his stomach and Hanjin wedged next to him, Kyungmin could only think of how uncomfortable the situation was.

Four people on a single mattress had never been a good idea.

And he definitely wasn't going to survive the night like this.

With slow, careful movements, he managed to slip out of the tangle of bodies without waking them. His feet touched the cold floor, and he felt a shiver run down his back as he finally stretched.

He needed air.

Space.

Something.

He ran a hand through his hair, tousling it even more than it already was, and without much thought, he left the room, dodging the creaking of the wood beneath his feet.

His steps were silent as he walked down the dimly lit hallway, his eyes still half closed from sleep as he made his way to the one room he knew he could get a good night's rest in.

Your room. Your room was the biggest room in the house, the prize for winning the chaotic game of deciding rooms.

And besides, it had become a habit. Every night, after everyone had retired, he used to come into your room, cuddle with you for a while, and then go to his. It was his little ritual. One that had started unintentionally and eventually became a sort of silent habit between you.

He hesitated a moment before knocking, but the sound was soft, almost shy. In the silence of the early morning, it felt louder than expected.

A small silence and then your sleepy voice from within:

-Come in…

Kyungmin opened the door cautiously and peeked out, finding you sitting up in bed, rubbing your eyes with one hand. Despite how sleepy you were, a smile appeared on your face as soon as you saw him. He felt your chest tighten warmly.

Without a word, he looked at you with deer eyes, silently hoping you would understand his motive.

And, as always, you did.

He didn't even have to explain.

Without saying anything, you made a small gesture with your hand, inviting him to come closer, and he didn't think twice about it.

He closed the door behind him and crossed the room with silent steps before slipping under the sheets beside you. The mattress was big, roomy, but as soon as he got into bed, he glued himself to you without thinking. His face hid in the hollow of your neck, his arms relaxed around you, and as soon as he felt the warmth of your skin and the leisurely rhythm of your breathing, his body loosened completely.

This.

This was what he had been looking for.

One arm of his fell lazily around your waist, and when he felt your chin rest gently on his head, he knew there was no turning back.

It was too comfortable.

Your hand slid down to his hair, stroking it in slow, gentle movements, and he instantly closed his eyes, enjoying every second of that gesture. He bit his lip to keep from smiling too much. There was no way his hyungs wouldn't tease him in the morning when they found him here, but honestly… he didn't care.

They would surely provoke him and make him blush with their teasing, but he didn't mind at all.

If the price of sleeping comfy and warm with you was putting up with their teasing… then so be it.

It had been a spring day (a very spring day, indeed, as flowers started to bloom, and pollen was all over the place), the day he met you. You were smiling and giving tiny hops all around the road. You just seemed so happy looking at the pink cherry trees; the ones the rest of the people didn't seem to even notice as they passed by. He just thought you were cute. Like a breath of fresh air.

He had to admit how he thought you were pretty tiny, although Dohoon really didn't notice how much he actually liked that characteristic until recently. That Dohoon, the one from two years ago, wouldn't have noticed half of the things that Dohoon noticed about you nowadays. He wouldn't even have imagined you would share a class together and somehow just... end up together. Live together. Laugh together.

Two years from that, and now he was walking right beside you in the same park, holding hands, and laughing as you walked by those same cherry trees.

"Your hand is so small," muttered Dohoon in one of your endless conversations, squeezing it just to prove he was right. He used to joke about how you were much tinier than he was. Just because he loved the annoyed face you put on when he did so.

You narrowed your eyes, just as he expected, frowning. "Brou. It's not. My hand is perfectly normal, it's not my fault yours is just like a replica of a dinosaur's paw." You said sharply, clearly obvious to your boyfriend that you were just messing around.

"A dinosaur?" he chuckled, "You know dinosaurs are tall and sexy, right? So thank you for the compliment, baby."

You frowned in disbelief. "Aham. It's not a compliment, though." You said, shaking your head. "You should be in the museum next to the diplodocus right now. I'm sure they are searching for you. I might even have to call them so they take you to the place you really belong."

"And that is...?" He wondered, grinning, testing your knowledge on dinosaurs (which, by the way, he knew quite well was pretty limited).

You took your time to think, doing a soft 'hmm' even if you (clearly) didn't know the answer. Your memory was bad, okay?

"Dinoland," you said at last.

This made Dohoon burst out laughing, and even if you didn't want to follow him, his laugh was just so contagious that you ended up doing so (against your will).

"¿Dinoland?" He managed to inquire while laughing. "I hope Lilliput's open for you then."

You widened your eyes and kicked him softly in his lower arm, still laughing. "Dohoon!"

There's no need to say you two continued laughing for the rest of the walk, under that beautiful, pink sky.

The teasing kept going on until you got home. It felt as if Dohoon had found the new thing which entertained him the most, really. He teased you about your height: about how you were so small he could practically hug you and make you disappear or how you could get lost so easily among the crowds. It was usual, and he did it smoothly too; so smoothly it was almost pleasant.

Key word: Almost.

You, honestly, did not know if you hated it or loved it. Maybe both. Who knew. But you, certainly, thought it was cute. You knew it was his way of saying ‘I love you’.

It was late at night. Almost dinner time. Before, you had been sleeping comfortably, hugging Dohoon and breathing easily. It was Dohoon's day off, and even if you wanted to do things together, he still needed to rest. He deserved it. And nap time was sacred for both of you.

However, you now needed to wake up and do your boring adult stuff. You sighed and cursed your stomach for being hungry.

You slipped away from him, careful not to wake him up. You were wearing Dohoon's green and pink hoodie (your favorite from his wardrobe), which only made you look three times smaller. Not because you were short (that, well- that was debatable) but because he was indeed like a walking streetlight. You liked how it looked on you, so you usually wore it when he was at home.

You glanced at him once more. He was sleeping like a pretty little baby. His oval face, his steady breathing, made him look so peaceful you just wanted to stay a bit more.

'Grrrrr', you heard. It was your stomach. Unfortunately, it seemed like your body didn't want you to stare at Dohoon.

So, you stood up, putting your feet against the floor and shuffling your feet. Soon, you arrived at the kitchen, where the magic usually happened and started cooking. It wasn't like cooking was your favorite thing in the world. Even more, every time you could, you would let Dohoon do this kind of work and then enjoy the meal he had prepared.

But sleep is sacred, so you just started to work.

Time passed, and Dohoon started to hear noises from the kitchen. No need to say that woke him up. He was a light sleeper. The boy rubbed his eyes and glanced to the side, expecting to have you beside him - even if you obviously weren't, because if not, who would be making such noises?

He was still disappointed in not finding you there, though. He stood up, even if he really did not want to, and walked to you. There was a sweet smell all around the apartment, and that was part of the reasons he felt curious. You never cooked, and now Dohoon felt scared of you burning down the kitchen.

What he found there, however, wasn't fire but you trying to get a jar he had lifted a bit too high for you to reach. So you were hopping, sticking out your tongue in concentration.

Quacking jar, you thought to yourself, who the hell had had the idea of leaving it up there?

Dohoon grinned and got closer to you without you even noticing. "Hi," he said. You jumped because of the sudden surprise.

"Oh. Oh my god, Dohoon..." You said, putting your hand on your chest and looking up to look at him. And a little higher, just because you couldn't see all his face from down there. "You scared me."

A chuckle escaped his lips. "Sorry, sweetie. Do you need that?" He pointed at the reddish jar.

"Yes..."

You looked at him. He lifted an eyebrow, his eyes on you.

"What?" He asked.

You bit your lip, not really wanting to ask it because you knew he was going to tease you about it. But on the other hand, you still needed that for the recipe. It was pretty important (or at least that was what it said).

"Could... Could you get it for me?"

"'Course," he nodded, as it was no big deal. Which, by the way, wasn't. It was just... weird. Because Dohoon did not tease you. Didn't say anything, just got it for you. And, of course, he was so tall and his arms were so long, he didn't need to say anything to just demonstrate it; he just got the jar even without standing on his tiptoes.

Your confusion was clear to him, as you were frowning and looking at him as if he had just turned into Spiderman. He gave it to you, directly into your hands. He must be half asleep, you thought. Well, maybe your skeptical manner was exaggerated, but he had been a real pain about that all day.

"What? Are you expecting me to say 'awie you are so small you couldn't get it by yourself'?’ because I could do it too if you want me to.." He teased, with a grin.

Okay, here it went, your typical Dohoon was back. He wasn't asleep, then. You rolled your eyes and shook your head, but with a small smile on your face that didn't go unnoticed by your boyfriend. "There's no need, you tease."

He snorted, and as you turned back to the meal you were preparing, Dohoon hugged you from behind, and rested his chin on your shoulder, arching his back. He enjoyed the moment for a little longer, taking in the sight of you cooking (a rare one), the way you were fighting with the vegetables to turn them around, and the smell of your scent mixed with the food’s. He knew quite well the next day he would go back to his tiring, exhausting schedule and wouldn't enjoy all that anymore. 

He wouldn't properly see you in a couple of days, and suddenly... he felt scared. Even if he didn't quite know of what.

"Love." He called you after a while.

"hm?"

"You know I love you, right?" He muttered.

"Of course I do. And I do too. I love you a lot."

Dohoon nodded and let out the air he didn't even know he was holding. "Okay."

You snorted, turning off the fire once the food was ready. The smell only made you hungrier. But first things first, you thought as you turned around and wrapped your arms around Dohoon's neck.

"I love you. I'm proud of you, and I'm not going anywhere either. I'm here for you." You said slowly, quietly. Your gaze filled with love.

He shallowed hard, but smiled. Dohoon sometimes wondered how on Earth were you capable of saying the exact things he needed to hear to feel better, even when he didn't know himself.

"Thank you," he returned quietly as well.

You smiled too. He leaned slowly and pressed his forehead against yours, and then kissed you. It wasn't rough, or that type of kisses that leave you lingering for more. It was a soft one that carried more than words could actually say. It carried feelings, it carried love. The one you felt everyday when you walked near him, or when you slept, laughed, ate… just spend time with him. 

You got on your tiptoes to kiss him better, which had become a habit.

Dohoon snorted at this. You rolled your eyes internally.

Man, how you loved him. Even with his stupid shortie jokes.

© jellyluvsjihoon 2026. do not copy or repost. ask to translate. (cr for the dividers to @uzmacchiato)

YN 💬

oh no hwannie

ill be there in 30. what symptoms does he have? ill get medicine.

dohoon responds quickly.

DOHOON 💬

nono shinyu hyung said not to come

you groaned at your boyfriend’s stubbornness.

YN 💬

dohoon i’m heading over there. what are his symptoms.

you put your phone down to get ready, knowing that you’re going to visit shinyu no matter his member’s response.

after you’re done and all set, you pick your phone back up and read the most recent message from dohoon.

DOHOON 💬

fever, body aches, and a small cough. he threw up a few times earlier too..

you sighed, making sure you had everything before exiting your apartment.

୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

you stood at the front door of tws’ dorm, hitting two gentle knocks on it.

the door creaks open—creepily.. almost—to the dim apartment. there stands jihoon.

he whispers, “hi yn. keep it low if you can since shinyu hyung doesn’t know you’re coming.”

you internally groan, of course they didn’t tell him. jihoon gestures you to come in and you do as instructed. he closes the door behind you before walking you to shinyu and youngjae’s bedroom.

the door to their room is closed, and with no hesitation, you grab hold of the door knob.

jihoon quickly stops you, raising his hands in warning. “wait! before you go in, can you tell shinyu hyung to not be mad with us?” he says in a low voice.

you chuckled, “yes jihoon, i’ll tell him i was the one who insisted on coming here.”

he smiled widely, stepping back and signaling you to enter the room.

you turned the knob, slowly opening the door and setting foot into the space. pushing the door behind you but not fully closing it, you approach your boyfriend’s bed which was covered by a long curtain.

youngjae isn’t in sight, as he most likely wanted to avoid contracting any sort of sickness—with the clean freak he is—and is in another member’s room instead.

you hear a soft shuffling in the bed. “huh?” shinyu says in a weak voice.

you move the curtain aside slowly, now looking him straight in the eyes (which were half open).

“yn? what are you-“ he gets interrupted by a cough of his own.

you looked at him worriedly and began to take out the medicine you had brought from out of your bag.

“your members let me know you were sick.” you exhaled deeply. “and i know you didn’t want me to come but how could i not? look at you.”

a moment of silence passed as you looked at him up and down with your eyebrows furrowed.

you continued, “i don’t care about getting sick, i just want you to feel better.”

shinyu mumbles, “i’m sorry.”

you shook you head. “it isn’t your fault. is this your water?” you point to a glass on his cluttered bedside table.

he nods, unable to look at you straight in the eyes.

you take the cup and direct him to take the medicine you brought, helping him sit up in doing so. he does as you say and afterwards, takes your hand in his. his hand is warm.

“i finally have a day off and i just happen to get sick,” he pouts. “i was looking forward to being with you; to finally having a day all to ourselves.” his voice is low and somewhat unclear, but you’re still able to make out his words.

you stare at him, eyes full of adoration as you observe his messy head of hair and the way the corners of his soft pink lips turn downward. how could someone look so beautiful while being horribly sick?

“i know hwannie. i was excited too.” you reassure him, “and, there will still be more opportunities for us to spend time together in the future, okay?”

you reached out to make an effort to fix his bed head, pushing strands of his soft hair away from his face. he melted into your touch.

“plus.. we are technically together right now. this still counts, right?” you smile at him.

he looked up to meet your gentle gaze. his eyes are tired and full of exhaustion, yet when he makes eye contact with you, a part of them light up a little.

he rubbed your hand softly, caressing it with love. “yeah, that’s true.” he hesitates, before mumbling something under his breath.

“huh?” you hum in question.

he cleared his throat. “do you want to.. cuddle?”

you grinned immediately at his words. did it matter if you got sick? in any other case, yes. but right now, when your loving boyfriend with his adorable red nose, flushed pink cheeks, and gleaming shiny eyes was directly in front of you and wanted cuddles, did it really matter?

the answer to that was no. it will always be no.

you giggled, “i would love to hwannie.”

please do not repost, copy, or translate.