brokenchicken2

[brokenchicken2]

CRY FOR LOVE

Cast : Woonhak x Y/n (reader)

Genre : Romance, Angst.

Summary : Woonhak loves his sister's best friend but can he win her heart?

The scent of rain-soaked earth and cheap convenience store coffee hung heavy in the air, a familiar perfume marking another afternoon spent huddled together. Y/N tucked her feet further under the oversized, ridiculously fluffy blanket she shared with Chaewon on the worn couch in Chaewon’s living room. They were watching a cheesy drama rerun, their commentary more entertaining than the actual show. Matching mugs, chipped in identical places, sat cooling on the low table.

“Seriously, why would she go back to him again?” Chaewon groaned, throwing a piece of popcorn at the screen. “He’s textbook toxic.”

Y/N laughed, nudging her best friend. “Because drama, wonnie. It wouldn’t be a show otherwise.”

“Still dumb,” Chaewon muttered, grabbing another handful of popcorn. “Real life isn’t like that. If someone hurts you, you cut them off. Simple.”

Y/N hummed noncommittally, her gaze drifting towards the hallway. A knot, small but persistent, tightened in her stomach. Simple. If only it were.

They had been Y/N and Chaewon, Chaewon and Y/N, for as long as either could remember. Playground pacts sealed with scraped knees and shared juice boxes had evolved into navigating teenage awkwardness with matching regrettable haircuts, and now, surviving university lectures fueled by caffeine and whispered gossip. Their bond was woven with countless sleepovers, tearful confessions whispered under duvet covers, shared wardrobes, and an unspoken understanding that transcended words. People joked they shared a brain. Sometimes, it felt true. They were anchors in each other's chaotic young adult lives, a constant presence more reliable than family, more intimate than any fleeting romance either had experienced. It was a sisterhood forged in loyalty, laughter, and an almost terrifying level of codependence.

And beneath it all, buried deep where Chaewon couldn’t see, pulsed Y/N’s secret. Her heavy, complicated, exhilarating, terrifying secret: Woonhak.

Chaewon’s little brother.

Woonhak had always been… there. A quiet shadow in the background of Y/N and Chaewon’s vibrant world. When they were kids, he was the annoying little brother who hovered nearby, easily bribed away with a snack. As they hit their teens, he became quieter, retreating into his room, headphones clamped over his ears. Y/N hadn’t paid him much mind beyond the casual, almost reflexive comments she’d offer, the same way she’d nudge her own sister, Eunbi.

“Woonhak, seriously, that shirt smells like it could walk away on its own. Shower time.”

“Dude, deodorant exists for a reason. Use it.”

She’d caught him trying a cigarette behind the garage once, snatching it away with a frown. “Don’t be stupid, Woonhak. That stuff will kill you slowly and make you smell bad.”

Another time, peering at his reflection in the hallway mirror, she’d ruffled his overgrown hair. “Woonhak-ah, you’re actually handsome under all that fluff. Get a trim, maybe?”

To Y/N, these were throwaway lines, the kind of sisterly nagging born from familiarity. She barely registered his mumbled replies or the way he’d sometimes flush slightly. She treated Eunbi exactly the same, perhaps even more critically. She never imagined these small interactions were landing differently in Woonhak’s world, each comment echoing, each glance magnified. She never saw the admiration growing in his quiet eyes, transforming from childhood awe into something deeper, something adolescent and intense.

He was just Chaewon’s little brother. Part of the furniture. Safe. Uncomplicated.

Or so she thought.

The shift happened subtly, almost imperceptibly at first. Woonhak entered high school, his voice dropped, he shot up taller. He was still quiet, still preferred the background, but the awkward gangliness was replaced by a lean frame, the shy glances held a new intensity Y/N hadn’t noticed before. He started keeping his hair neater. He smelled, invariably, of clean laundry and a subtle, pleasant soap.

Then came the razor incident. It was his third year of junior high, maybe around his 15th birthday. Y/N, ever practical, had noticed the first fuzzy hints of a moustache. On a whim, while buying toiletries, she’d picked up a simple disposable razor and shaving cream. She’d presented it to him casually when she was over at Chaewon’s.

“Here,” she’d said, dropping the small bag into his lap. He’d looked up from his game, confused. “Keep it. You’ll need it soon, if not already.”

He’d just stared at the bag, then up at her, his cheeks coloring slightly. “Oh. Uh, thanks, Noona.”

“No problem,” she’d shrugged, already turning back to Chaewon, dismissing the moment. It was just a practical gift, like reminding him to shower. Nothing more.

But for Woonhak, it felt like everything more. It felt like she saw him, saw him changing, growing up. He kept the unopened razor in his desk drawer like a sacred object for months.

Years continued their steady march. Y/N and Chaewon navigated the final hurdles of high school and plunged into university life, their bond stretching but never breaking. Woonhak moved through high school, still quiet, still observant, his feelings for Y/N a carefully guarded secret flame burning steadily brighter in the privacy of his own heart. He saw her less frequently now that she was busier with university, which only seemed to intensify his longing. He’d scroll through her social media, linger over photos Chaewon posted of them together, his heart doing a familiar, painful flip.

He knew it was hopeless. She was his sister’s best friend. She was older. She probably still saw him as the slightly smelly kid she used to nag. But the heart wants what it wants, and Woonhak’s heart stubbornly, foolishly, wanted Y/N.

The afternoon sun slanted through the living room window of Chaewon’s house, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Y/N was hunched over her laptop at the dining table, wrestling with a particularly frustrating sociology paper. The house was quiet; Chaewon’s parents were out for the weekend, and Chaewon herself had just dashed to the nearby minimarket for emergency snack supplies – a critical component of any study session.

Lost in thought, brow furrowed in concentration, Y/N almost didn’t register the soft click.

Click

It was faint, almost swallowed by the gentle hum of the refrigerator. But it was distinct. A camera shutter.

She froze, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Slowly, she turned her head.

Standing in the doorway connecting the dining room to the kitchen was Woonhak. He held his phone clutched in his hand, his eyes wide with the unmistakable panic of someone caught red-handed. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, frozen mid-action.

A cold prickle ran down Y/N’s spine. Without a word, she pushed her chair back, the legs scraping slightly against the floor, and walked towards him. Woonhak instinctively tried to hide the phone behind his back, but Y/N was faster, her hand shooting out and snatching it from his grasp.

His lock screen was a default image, but her fingers moved automatically, swiping up. He hadn’t even bothered to lock it properly. The photo gallery opened, and Y/N’s breath caught in her throat.

It wasn’t just one photo. It was dozens. Photos of her. Candid shots, clearly taken without her knowledge. Her laughing with Chaewon on the couch weeks ago. Her concentrating on her laptop, just moments before. Her reaching for a book on the shelf. Her sleeping on the sofa during a movie night months prior. Some were slightly blurry, taken hastily, others surprisingly well-composed. All of them were of her, captured in unguarded moments.

The knot in her stomach tightened into a cold fist. This wasn’t admiration. This felt… invasive. Creepy.

She looked up from the phone, her eyes meeting Woonhak’s terrified gaze. He looked pale, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.

“Why?” Her voice was low, tight. “Why are you doing this, Woonhak?”

He flinched, unable to meet her eyes. “I… I’m sorry, Noona,” he mumbled, his gaze towards the floor. “I just… you looked…” His voice trailed off, unable to articulate his reasoning.

A sudden, sharp suspicion cut through her unease. The years of quiet glances, the occasional blush she’d dismissed, the intensity she’d sometimes glimpsed in his eyes… it clicked into place with a sickening lurch.

“Do you like me?” The question was blunt, devoid of preamble.

Woonhak’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with a mixture of panic and something else… vulnerability? He swallowed hard, his gaze flickering away again. Then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded. A tiny, jerky movement.

The air crackled with sudden tension. Y/N felt a strange mix of emotions swirling within her – annoyance, unease, but also a bizarre, unexpected flicker of… something else. Curiosity? Power? She wasn’t sure. She saw the sheer terror and adoration warring in his young face. He looked so exposed, so utterly mortified.

Acting on an impulse she didn’t fully understand, she took a step closer, invading his personal space. She leaned in, her face just inches from his. She could see the slight tremor in his hands, smell the faint scent of his soap.

“Is your heart beating fast?” she asked softly, her voice a low murmur.

His eyes darted up to meet hers, wide and startled. He nodded again, unable to speak. He looked like he might bolt.

Y/N leaned even closer, her lips almost brushing his ear. “Is it beating faster now?” She kept her gaze locked on his, watching the pulse jump in his throat.

He nodded mutely, his breath hitching. He tried to turn his head away, overwhelmed, but Y/N reached up, her fingers gently cupping his cheek, holding his face steady. Her touch was surprisingly soft. She looked deep into his eyes, seeing the raw emotion swimming there – the years of hidden longing laid bare. He's not a kid anymore. He's 18 now. He's a young man, utterly captivated by her. And in that moment, seeing that raw vulnerability, something shifted inside Y/N. The annoyance softened, replaced by a strange, thrilling curiosity.

“Can I kiss you?” The words slipped out before she could stop them, quiet in the stillness of the room.

Woonhak’s eyes widened further, if possible. Disbelief warred with a dawning, incredulous hope. He swallowed again, then, slowly, tremulously, he nodded. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, bracing himself.

Y/N hesitated for only a fraction of a second. Then, she leaned forward the final inch and pressed her lips against his. It wasn't a passionate kiss, barely more than a peck. A brief, soft pressure. But the effect on Woonhak was instantaneous. A visible jolt went through him, a sharp intake of breath, as if he’d touched a live wire. He swayed slightly, his eyes flying open, dazed and breathless. He looked utterly poleaxed, his cheeks flushed crimson.

Y/N pulled back, studying his reaction. The sheer, unadulterated joy mixed with shock on his face was… potent. She felt a strange sense of control, a thrill that surprised her.

She handed his phone back to him. His fingers fumbled slightly as he took it.

“You have my number, right?” she asked, her voice back to its normal tone, though perhaps a little softer.

He nodded dumbly. “Y-yes.”

“You can contact me if you want another kiss,” she said, the corner of her lip twitching slightly. “Call me. Text me. But don’t secretly take pictures of me like a creep. It’s scary, Woonhak.”

She gave his arm a light pat, then turned and walked back to her laptop, leaving him standing there, frozen in the doorway, processing the electric shock that had just coursed through his entire being. His first kiss. From Y/N. He felt lightheaded, dizzy, like he might actually faint from sheer, overwhelming happiness.

Y/N sat back down, staring at her half-finished essay, but the words blurred. What had she just done? It was reckless, impulsive. He was Chaewon’s brother. Eighteen years old. Practically a kid. Yet… the look in his eyes, the raw adoration… it had stirred something in her. A part of her she hadn’t known existed. She pushed the thought away, trying to focus on her work, but the ghost of that brief kiss, and the look on Woonhak’s face, lingered.

The days following the kiss were agony for Woonhak. He replayed the moment endlessly in his mind: the terrifying anticipation, the soft pressure of Y/N’s lips, the electric jolt, her unexpected words afterwards. “Contact me if you want another kiss.” Did she mean it? Was she just messing with him? Playing a cruel joke?

He drafted and deleted countless messages. What could he possibly say? ‘Hi Noona, remember me? The creep who took your picture? Can I have that kiss now?’ Mortifying.

He jumped every time his phone buzzed. He barely slept, tossing and turning, caught between paralyzing shyness and overwhelming desire. He saw Y/N briefly when Chaewon dragged her over for pizza night, but he could barely meet her eyes, mumbling hellos and quickly retreating to his room, his heart hammering against his ribs. Y/N acted completely normal, chatting easily with Chaewon, giving him only a casual smile that sent his pulse skyrocketing anyway.

Finally, after nearly a week of torturous indecision, fueled by desperation and the memory of that single, earth-shattering peck, Woonhak typed out the simplest message he could think of:

‘Hi Noona. It’s Woonhak.’

He stared at the screen, finger hovering over the send button, his breath held tight. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed send before he could chicken out.

The wait was excruciating. Seconds stretched into minutes. He paced his room, checked his phone every ten seconds. Maybe she wouldn’t reply. Maybe she regretted it. Maybe she’d tell Chaewon. His stomach churned with anxiety.

Then, his phone pinged.

‘Hi Woonhak :) What’s up?’

Relief washed over him so intensely he felt weak at the knees. She’d replied. And she’d used a smiley face. He sank onto his bed, rereading the simple message as if it were a complex code.

Hesitantly, he typed back: ‘Nothing much. Just… thinking.’

‘Thinking about what? ;)’

The winky face. His heart leaped. She wasn’t mad. She wasn’t creeped out anymore. She was… flirting?

Their text exchanges started slowly, tentatively. Woonhak was painfully shy at first, his messages short and careful. But Y/N was surprisingly warm, patient. She asked him about school, about his friends, remembered little details he’d mentioned months ago. She teased him gently, coaxing him out of his shell.

Y/N found herself genuinely enjoying their secret communication. Woonhak’s innocence was refreshing. His shy adoration, now expressed through hesitant texts filled with blushing emojis and earnest compliments, was surprisingly endearing. There was a sweetness to him, an untainted sincerity that felt different from the usual complexities of university dating pools. He wasn’t trying to be cool or detached; he wore his heart on his digital sleeve, and Y/N found herself increasingly charmed by it. It was flattering, intoxicating even, to be the object of such focused, unadulterated affection. Maybe she was a little lonely too, adrift in the pressures of university and the vague uncertainties of the future. Woonhak's crush felt like a safe harbor, simple and pure.

Their texts grew longer, more frequent, stretching late into the night. They graduated from simple greetings to sharing jokes, anxieties, and snippets of their day. Woonhak, emboldened by Y/N’s warmth and the relative safety of texting, slowly revealed more of himself – his quiet ambitions, his love for photography (ironic, Y/N thought, but she let it slide), his worries about the future.

One rainy Tuesday evening, after weeks of near-constant messaging, Woonhak took a deep breath and typed the words that had been burning a hole in his digital pocket:

‘Noona… I really like you. A lot. Would you… would you be my girlfriend?’

He immediately wanted to throw his phone across the room. It sounded so childish, so inadequate. He waited, heart pounding, convinced she would laugh or shut him down completely.

The reply came back almost instantly.

‘Yes, Woonhak. I’d like that.’

Followed by:

‘But listen. This has to be our secret. Absolutely secret. Nobody can know. Especially not Chaewon. Or Eunbi. Or your parents. Nobody. Can you promise me that?’

Woonhak read the message three times, disbelief warring with ecstatic joy. She’d said yes! The condition barely registered over the roaring in his ears. Secret? Of course. He’d keep any secret for her.

‘Yes! I promise, Noona! Absolutely! Thank you! I’m so happy!’

He typed back, fingers flying.

And just like that, their secret relationship began. It felt illicit, thrilling. Stolen moments, coded messages, flirtatious selfies exchanged late at night. Y/N initiated most of the physical affection when they managed rare moments alone – a quick kiss stolen in a quiet hallway at her university when he visited under the guise of seeing Chaewon, a hand squeeze under the table during a family dinner that sent shivers down his spine. Woonhak, still shy but growing bolder, lived for these moments.

He felt like he was living in a dream. Y/N, the girl he’d worshipped from afar for years, was his girlfriend. She texted him good morning and good night. She sent him encouraging messages before his exams. She complimented his photos (the non-creepy ones he now sent her). She even remembered his favorite snacks.

For three months, their secret world flourished. It was a bubble of shared glances, whispered secrets, and the heady excitement of forbidden love. Woonhak walked on air, convinced he was the luckiest guy in the world. He was careful, meticulously guarding their secret, deleting messages, creating plausible excuses for his sudden smiles or moments of distraction. He wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize this fragile, precious thing they had built.

He never stopped to wonder why Y/N needed such absolute secrecy, beyond the obvious complication of Chaewon. He was too swept up in the magic of it all, too blinded by happiness and the unbelievable reality that Y/N had chosen him.

The fluorescent lights of the classroom buzzed overhead. Woonhak was supposed to be listening to the history teacher drone on about ancient dynasties, but his attention was firmly fixed on his phone, hidden beneath his desk. A small smile played on his lips as he reread Y/N’s latest message – a funny picture of her attempting to bake, covered in flour.

He typed a quick reply, oblivious to the world around him, lost in his private bubble of happiness. He didn’t notice his deskmate, Jaehyun, a lanky, perpetually curious boy, craning his neck.

“Whoa, Woonhak, smiling at your phone? Don’t tell me the quiet guy finally got himself a girlfriend!” Jaehyun whispered loudly, nudging him.

Woonhak jumped, quickly trying to hide his phone, but Jaehyun was faster. With a mischievous grin, Jaehyun snatched the phone right out of his hand.

“Hey! Give it back!” Woonhak hissed, trying to grab it, but Jaehyun held it aloft.

“Let’s see, let’s see!” Jaehyun announced, ignoring Woonhak’s frantic protests. The chat history was open. Jaehyun’s eyes widened. “No way! Look everyone, Woonhak’s got a girlfriend!”

The classroom, previously filled with lethargic murmurs, erupted. Heads turned, whispers broke out. Everyone knew Woonhak as the quiet, reserved kid. The idea of him having a girlfriend was major news.

“Who is she?” someone called out.

"Is she pretty?"

“Is she hot?” another added.

Jaehyun scrolled slightly, squinting at the contact name. “Her name is… Y/N,” he read aloud. “No picture, but the messages are pretty sweet. Seems like she’s pretty into him” He grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

Most of the class murmured the name, unfamiliar. But across the aisle, one head had snapped up, eyes wide with shock and dawning horror. Eunbi. Y/N’s sister.

Before anyone else could react, Eunbi shot out of her seat, marched over, and snatched the phone from Jaehyun’s grasp. Her expression was thunderous. She scrolled through the recent messages, her face paling, then hardening. The flirtatious emojis, the affectionate nicknames… it was undeniably her sister.

“Give it back, Eunbi,” Woonhak pleaded, his voice tight with panic. The secret was out. At least partially.

Eunbi ignored him, quickly locking the phone and shoving it back into his hand. “Don’t talk to me,” she hissed, her voice low and furious, before stalking back to her seat. The class buzzed with confusion, but the teacher intervened, restoring a semblance of order. Woonhak spent the rest of the lesson in a cold sweat, his mind racing. Eunbi knew. What would she do? Would she tell Y/N? Would she tell Chaewon?

The moment the final bell rang, Eunbi was waiting for him by the classroom door, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. She grabbed his arm and pulled him into an empty corridor, away from the flow of students.

“What the hell, Woonhak?” she demanded, her voice trembling with anger. “Y/N? My sister? Are you serious?”

Woonhak swallowed, feeling cornered. “Eunbi, I can explain…”

“Explain what? That you’re secretly dating my sister? Behind everyone’s back? Behind Chaewon’s back?” Her eyes flashed. “Do you have any idea how stupid this is?”

“We… we like each other,” Woonhak mumbled, feeling defensive but also deeply ashamed.

Eunbi scoffed, a harsh, disbelieving sound. “Like each other? Woonhak, listen to me very carefully.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to an intense whisper. “This isn’t about my sister. This is for your good. Stay away from her.”

“What? Why?” Woonhak felt a surge of defiance. “You don’t understand…”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” Eunbi cut him off, her gaze sharp and pitying. “I know my sister. I know how much Chaewon means to her. No matter how much Y/N seems to like you right now, no matter how sweet she is, when it comes down to it, she will always choose Chaewon. Always. You’ll just be collateral damage.”

Woonhak opened his mouth to protest, but Eunbi pressed on.

“Think about it, Woonhak. Really think. Do you honestly believe your sister would be okay with this? Do you think your parents would approve? Your mom adores Y/N like another daughter. This… this would break things. Mess everything up. And who do you think will get hurt the most when it all blows up? It’ll be you.” Her eyes bored into his. “Y/N will smooth things over with Chaewon, maybe feel bad for a bit, but she’ll move on. You? You’ll be left with nothing but a broken heart and a huge mess with your own family.”

Her words hit him like cold water. He hadn’t really considered the fallout beyond Chaewon finding out. He hadn’t thought about his parents, about the deep intertwining of their families.

“Stay away from my sister, Woonhak,” Eunbi repeated, her voice softening slightly but losing none of its intensity. “End it before it gets worse. Or you’ll be the one paying the price. This is the only warning I’m giving you.”

She turned and walked away, leaving Woonhak standing alone in the corridor, Eunbi’s chilling prophecy echoing in his ears. He felt a knot of fear tighten in his chest, a seed of doubt planted where only blissful ignorance had resided before. But the thought of ending things with Y/N, of losing her, felt like tearing out his own heart. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Eunbi was wrong. Their love was real. Y/N wouldn’t just discard him. Would she?

He pushed the fear down, burying it deep. He wouldn’t let Eunbi’s words poison what they had. He just needed to be even more careful.

Three months flew by in a haze of final exams, graduation preparations, and the lingering anxiety of Eunbi’s warning. Woonhak managed to keep the secret contained; Jaehyun, after the initial excitement, lost interest, and thankfully, no one else connected ‘Y/N’ to Chaewon’s best friend or Eunbi’s sister. Eunbi, true to her word, hadn’t mentioned it again, but her cool distance towards him was a constant, unnerving reminder.

Summer arrived, and with it, a new chapter. Woonhak was accepted into the same university as Y/N and Chaewon. Stepping onto the sprawling campus as a freshman felt both daunting and exhilarating. But the biggest thrill was knowing Y/N was here, breathing the same academic air, walking the same pathways.

He quickly discovered that Y/N wasn’t just another student. She was a well-known senior, involved in several clubs, respected by professors, and generally admired for her competence, warmth, and friendly demeanor. Hearing people praise her, talk about her accomplishments, filled Woonhak with an immense sense of pride. That’s my girlfriend. he’d think, a secret, giddy warmth spreading through him.

Their relationship, despite the proximity, remained firmly underground. University offered more opportunities for stolen moments – brief meetings between classes in less crowded corridors, quick coffee dates in obscure cafes far from their usual haunts, late-night study sessions in quiet corners of the library that often involved more whispered conversations and hand-holding than actual studying.

Y/N seemed to thrive on the secrecy, the planning, the near-misses. She was incredibly affectionate in their private moments, showering Woonhak with attention. Sweet good morning texts became a staple. Little notes tucked into his textbook. A constant stream of encouragement for his studies. Soft, lingering kisses that left him breathless and wanting more. Small, thoughtful gifts – a keychain he’d admired, his favorite brand of instant noodles stocked in her dorm mini-fridge for his visits, a warm scarf knitted in his favorite color.

Woonhak felt cherished, adored. Y/N’s maturity was a comfort; she seemed so understanding, so patient with his lingering shyness, his occasional insecurities. She listened to his worries about university, offered advice, celebrated his small victories. He felt like he could tell her anything. Eunbi’s warning faded into the background, dismissed as sisterly overprotectiveness or perhaps jealousy. How could Y/N ever choose anyone over this? Over them? He was living a dream, soaring on the wings of first love, utterly convinced he was the happiest man on earth.

Their haven, their sanctuary, became an abandoned building on the edge of campus. It was a dilapidated structure, slated for demolition but forgotten by bureaucracy, hidden behind overgrown bushes and a crumbling brick wall. Y/N had found it first, exploring one afternoon. It became their place.

Slowly, carefully, they made it their own. They swept away layers of dust and debris, cleared a space in one of the larger rooms with intact windows. Y/N brought battery-operated fairy lights, stringing them across beams, casting a soft, magical glow. Woonhak, using his photography skills, found angles where the peeling paint and broken plaster looked almost artistic in the dim light. They scavenged a couple of discarded cushions, brought blankets. They carved their initials, Y/N + WH, into a dusty windowsill, hidden from casual view.

Here, away from prying eyes, their relationship truly deepened. They talked for hours, curled up on the blankets, sharing dreams and fears under the soft twinkle of the fairy lights. They listened to music on Woonhak’s phone, sharing earbuds. They kissed freely, deeply, exploring the burgeoning physical side of their relationship with tentative touches and breathless exploration. It was in this secluded space, filled with the scent of dust and decay strangely mingled with the sweetness of their affection, that Woonhak fell completely, irrevocably in love. Y/N wasn’t just his first crush, his first kiss, his first girlfriend. She felt like his soulmate. Her patience, her understanding, the way she looked at him in those stolen moments… it felt like forever.

For a year, their secret world thrived within the university's ecosystem and the hidden corners of their abandoned building. Woonhak navigated his freshman year, buoyed by Y/N’s love and support. The secrecy was just part of the thrill, a testament to the unique, special bond they shared. He truly believed they could overcome anything, that their love was strong enough to withstand any obstacle, even the inevitable reveal he knew must someday come. He just wasn’t prepared for how, or when, it would happen.

Graduation came and went for Y/N and Chaewon. Caps were thrown, photos were taken, futures beckoned. The inseparable duo found themselves pulled in slightly different directions by the demands of their first jobs. They still talked constantly, met up whenever possible, but the easy proximity of university life was gone.

Chaewon, sharp-eyed and intuitive despite her occasional dramatic flair, had sensed subtle shifts for a while. Lingering glances between Y/N and Woonhak that seemed a little too charged. Y/N’s occasional vagueness about her whereabouts. Woonhak’s uncharacteristic nervousness around Y/N when Chaewon was present. Little things, easily dismissed individually, but collectively, they formed a pattern in Chaewon’s mind.

One evening, over wine and takeout after a long week at their respective new jobs, Chaewon decided to address the nagging feeling.

“Okay, spill,” Chaewon said, swirling the wine in her glass, her gaze direct. “What’s really going on between you and Woonhak?”

Y/N, caught off guard, nearly choked on her noodles. “What? Nothing! What are you talking about?” She forced a laugh, trying to sound casual, but her heart hammered against her ribs. This was it. The moment she’d dreaded.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N,” Chaewon said, her tone losing its usual teasing edge. “I’m not blind. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other sometimes. The way he clams up when you’re around me. The weird tension. Something’s up.”

“Chaewon, you’re imagining things,” Y/N insisted, trying to maintain eye contact, trying to project innocence. “He’s your brother. He’s like a little brother to me too. It’s probably just awkward now that we’re all older.”

Chaewon wasn’t buying it. She leaned forward, her expression serious. “I know you, Y/N. Better than anyone. You’re hiding something. And I have a horrible feeling I know what it is. Just tell me the truth.” Her voice softened slightly. “Are you… involved with him?”

Y/N’s mind raced. Deny, deny, deny. But Chaewon’s steady gaze unnerved her. She knew that look. Chaewon wouldn’t let this go. The walls were closing in. The secret, so carefully guarded for over a year, felt suffocatingly close to bursting. The potential fallout flashed through her mind – Chaewon’s hurt, her anger, the inevitable confrontation with Woonhak’s parents, the destruction of the carefully balanced ecosystem of their intertwined lives.

Panic seized her. She saw the hurt already dawning in Chaewon’s eyes, the suspicion hardening into certainty. She couldn’t face it. She couldn’t handle the confrontation, the drama, the potential loss of her best friend. In that moment of pure, gut-wrenching panic, she made a decision. A brutal, self-preservative decision.

“No,” she lied, the word feeling like ash in her mouth. “Of course not, wonnie. Don’t be ridiculous.” But her voice lacked conviction.

Chaewon just stared at her, disappointment clear on her face. “Prove it.”

“How?” Y/N asked, stalling, desperately trying to think.

“Let me see your phone. Your recent calls, your messages with him.”

Checkmate. Y/N knew her phone held undeniable proof. The late-night texts, the pet names, the saved photos. It was all there. Exposing it now, like this, felt unbearable. It felt like betraying not just Chaewon, but Woonhak too, in the worst possible way.

There was only one way out. A cruel, cowardly way out.

While Chaewon refilled her wine glass, Y/N quickly unlocked her phone, her fingers trembling. She opened her chat with Woonhak. Her heart felt like a lead weight in her chest. She typed quickly, not allowing herself to think, to feel.

‘Woonhak, I’m so sorry. I can’t do this anymore. We need to break up. It’s over. Please don’t contact me.’

Send.

Her breath hitched. The immediate finality of it felt like a physical blow. Before Chaewon turned back, Y/N navigated to his contact info, her thumb hovering over the ‘Block’ button. Tears pricked her eyes, blurring the screen. She squeezed them shut and pressed it. Blocked calls. Blocked messages. She quickly went to her social media apps, blocking him there too. Severing every connection.

She took a deep, shaky breath and looked up, schooling her features into a semblance of calm just as Chaewon sat back down. “See? Nothing,” she said, offering her phone, knowing the incriminating evidence was now inaccessible, the digital ties brutally cut.

Chaewon took the phone, her eyes still searching Y/N’s face. She scrolled through the call log, the main message list. Nothing overtly suspicious remained visible. Y/N had always been careful about deleting things, but the absence of recent communication, the blocking… it felt deliberate. Chaewon handed the phone back, a heavy silence settling between them. She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press further. The damage, however, was done. A hairline crack had appeared in the foundation of their lifelong friendship.

Miles away, in his dorm room, Woonhak’s phone buzzed. He smiled, assuming it was Y/N’s goodnight message. He picked it up, his smile freezing, then collapsing as he read the words.

‘I’m so sorry. I can’t do this anymore. We need to break up. It’s over. Please don’t contact me.’

Disbelief washed over him, cold and paralyzing. This had to be a joke. A cruel prank. His fingers trembled as he tried to call her. Straight to voicemail. He tried again. Voicemail. He opened their chat to type a frantic message – ‘Noona? What’s wrong? What happened? Talk to me!’ – but a system message popped up: ‘You cannot reply to this conversation.’

Panic, sharp and sickening, clawed its way up his throat. He tried her social media. Her profile wouldn’t load. He searched her name. Nothing. Blocked. Everywhere.

He sank onto his bed, the phone slipping from his numb fingers. Over? Just like that? No explanation? No discussion? After everything? After the promises whispered in their secret place, after the shared dreams, after a year of believing they were building a future?

The room started to spin. Tears welled, hot and stinging, blurring his vision. Why? What had he done wrong? Was it something he said? Something he did? His mind raced, replaying their recent interactions, searching for a clue, a reason for this sudden, brutal severance. He found nothing. Just warmth, affection, love.

He curled into a ball on his bed, confusion and shock giving way to a raw, agonizing pain. He cried, deep, gut-wrenching sobs tearing through him. He felt utterly lost, adrift, blindsided. The world that had seemed so bright, so full of promise just minutes ago, had shattered into a million unrecognizable pieces. The silence in the room pressed in on him, amplifying the deafening roar of his own heartbreak.

The days that followed were a blur of numb disbelief and gut-wrenching pain for Woonhak. He existed in a fog, going through the motions of attending classes, eating, sleeping – or trying to. Everything felt muted, pointless. The vibrant colors of his world had bled out, leaving only shades of grey.

He tried desperately to understand. Had Chaewon found out? Had Y/N panicked? But why wouldn't she talk to him? Why the sudden, complete cutoff? The silence was a torment, leaving his mind free to conjure a thousand self-deprecating reasons. Was he not good enough? Too young? Too naive? Had she just been playing with him all along? Was Eunbi right after all?

He couldn't accept it. He had to talk to her. He had to hear it from her lips, understand why.

He started haunting the places he knew she might be. He waited near the building where she worked, hoping to catch her coming or going. The first time he saw her, walking out with colleagues, laughing at something someone said, his heart leaped with desperate hope. He called her name, “Noona!”

Y/N froze, her head snapping towards him. Recognition flashed in her eyes, followed immediately by panic. She turned abruptly, saying something quickly to her friends, and hurried in the opposite direction, disappearing around a corner before he could even take a step towards her.

He tried again a few days later, waiting by the entrance. This time, she saw him from a distance, ducked back inside, and presumably left through a different exit. Another time, he managed to get close enough to say her name as she walked past on the street. She flinched but kept walking, faster this time, head down, pretending she hadn’t heard him, didn’t know him. Each rejection was a fresh stab to his already bleeding heart. The humiliation burned, hot and sharp, mingling with the overwhelming sadness.

He went to their abandoned building, hoping she might seek solace there too. The fairy lights were gone. The blankets and cushions were missing. Only the faint carving on the windowsill remained, a mocking reminder of what they had shared. Standing in the dusty, empty room, the silence echoed his own hollowness. He sank to the floor, burying his face in his hands, the tears coming freely again.

Guilt gnawed at him relentlessly. Was it his fault? Had he become too demanding? Too complacent? Had he failed to show her how much he loved her? He dissected every memory, every conversation, searching for his mistake. ‘Was it because I couldn’t give as much love as Y/N gave me?’ The thought tortured him. He remembered her patience, her gifts, her encouragement, and compared it to his own shy, fumbling expressions of affection. Maybe he hadn’t been enough. Maybe he’d taken her for granted.

Nights were the worst. The crushing weight of loneliness descended, heavy and suffocating. Sleep offered little escape, often plagued by dreams of Y/N – sometimes loving and warm, making the waking reality even harsher, sometimes cold and distant, mirroring his current nightmare. He’d wake up with tears drying on his cheeks, the ache in his chest a constant, physical presence. He missed her smile, her laugh, the way she’d ruffle his hair, the safety he felt in her arms, the easy intimacy of their secret world. He missed her, terribly, achingly.

His friends tried to help. Jaehyun, sensing something was deeply wrong despite not knowing the details, dragged him out to game nights, parties, study groups. Woonhak went along, putting on a brave face, forcing smiles, nodding along to conversations he barely registered. But the laughter felt hollow, the distractions fleeting. Nothing could fill the gaping void Y/N had left behind. He felt isolated in his grief, unable to explain the depth of his heartbreak to anyone, bound by the remnants of the secret that had ultimately destroyed him. He tried focusing on his studies, pouring all his energy into assignments, but his concentration wavered, his thoughts inevitably drifting back to her.

He was drowning in heartbreak, disappointment, and a profound sense of loss. The happiness he’d felt just weeks ago seemed like a distant, impossible dream. This crushing reality was his new normal.

Weeks bled into months. The initial raw agony began to dull into a persistent, heavy ache. Woonhak functioned. He passed his exams, kept up with his coursework, maintained a semblance of a social life. But the light in his eyes was gone, replaced by a weary resignation.

One Friday night, Jaehyun and a couple of other friends convinced him to try a new restaurant downtown, famous for its spicy chicken. Woonhak wasn’t particularly hungry, but the thought of staying alone in his dorm room felt worse.

The restaurant was busy, noisy with chatter and the clatter of cutlery. They found a table near the back. Woonhak picked listlessly at his food, only half-listening to his friends’ banter about football and upcoming exams. His gaze drifted idly around the room.

And then he saw her.

At a large table across the restaurant, amidst a group of laughing, well-dressed people who looked like office colleagues celebrating the end of the week, sat Y/N. She was leaning forward, smiling, contributing animatedly to the conversation. She looked radiant, happy, completely carefree. Like the breakup hadn’t affected her at all. Like he hadn’t affected her at all.

His breath caught. His heart, which he thought had become numb, clenched painfully. It felt like seeing a ghost, but a ghost who was vibrantly, cruelly alive and well. He couldn’t look away, mesmerized and horrified in equal measure. Had he imagined the depth of their connection? Had it all meant nothing to her?

As if sensing his stare, Y/N’s gaze flickered across the room. For a fraction of a second, their eyes met. He saw a flicker of surprise, maybe recognition, maybe something else he couldn’t decipher. And then, instantly, she looked away. Smoothly, dismissively. As if she’d glanced at a stranger, or a piece of furniture. She turned back to her friends, picked up her glass, and took a sip, seamlessly rejoining the conversation.

It was like a physical blow. The casualness of her dismissal shattered the fragile composure he’d painstakingly built over the past months. So, it was true. He had been suffering alone. While he was crying himself to sleep, she was out laughing with friends, moving on without a backward glance. The unfairness of it burned like acid in his chest.

He watched as her group started gathering their things, preparing to leave. He couldn’t let her just walk away again. Not after this. Ignoring Jaehyun’s questioning look, Woonhak pushed his chair back abruptly and intercepted Y/N as she headed towards the exit, slightly separated from her group.

He gently but firmly took her arm, stopping her. “Noona.”

Y/N froze, startled. She looked down at his hand on her arm, then up at his face, her expression hardening into annoyance, maybe even a hint of fear. “What are you doing?” she hissed, trying to pull her arm away. Her colleagues glanced back curiously.

“We need to talk,” Woonhak insisted, his voice low and trembling slightly. He ignored the stares, focusing only on her. “Please. Just five minutes.”

Y/N hesitated, clearly aware of her colleagues watching. With a sigh of exasperation, she nodded curtly towards a quieter corner near the entrance. “Fine. Make it quick.”

Once they were slightly away from the crowd, Woonhak released her arm. The proximity, the familiar scent of her perfume, the sight of her face up close after so long – it threatened to undo him.

“What happened?” he asked, the question raw with months of pent-up pain and confusion. “Why are you being like this? Why did you just… disappear?”

Y/N crossed her arms, avoiding his gaze, her expression carefully neutral. “Didn’t I tell you? We broke up, Woonhak.” Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

“That was just you saying it!” he choked out, frustration and hurt warring within him. “A text message! You blocked me! You ran away every time I tried to see you! I never agreed to break up! You never even gave me a reason!”

She finally met his eyes, and he saw a weariness there, a coldness that chilled him to the bone. “Since you’re here now, fine. Let’s make it official. We are broken up. Done. Finished.”

Tears pricked Woonhak’s eyes, blurring her image. “Why...?” His voice cracked. “Why are you being so cruel to me? What did I do?”

A flicker of something – guilt? Regret? – crossed her face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a harsh pragmatism. “So what? You want us to continue this relationship? This secret, hidden thing?” She let out a short, humorless laugh. “Be realistic, Woonhak. Can you guarantee it can last? Can you honestly guarantee your parents and your sister, my best friend, will approve when they find out? Because they will find out eventually.”

Her words became sharper, faster, like she was reciting a pre-rehearsed defense. “Can you guarantee I won’t get hurt in the fallout? That Chaewon won’t hate me? That your parents won’t blame me? Can you guarantee that you, who still depends on your parents for everything, will actually stand up for me, fight for me, defend me against your own family?”

“I will-” Woonhak started, desperate, wanting to promise her anything.

“No!” Y/N cut him off sharply, shaking her head. “No, Woonhak, you won’t. That’s just your naive, innocent thinking. You’re sweet, but you’re still a kid in so many ways. You wouldn’t be able to handle the pressure, the disapproval, the conflict. You wouldn’t know how. You wouldn't stand up to Chaewon, or your parents, whose money you still live on.” She sighed heavily, a sound filled with resignation.

“We… we can never be together, Woonhak,” she said, her voice softening slightly but the words landing like hammer blows. “Not really. Not in the open. And that’s the reality. That’s why I ended it. Before things got even more complicated, before more people got hurt. Before you got hurt even more.”

The implication that she was doing this for him felt like the ultimate insult. Tears streamed freely down his cheeks now, hot and unchecked. “Why did you give up so easily?!” he cried, his voice thick with emotion. “Don’t you remember how beautiful it was? Our place? Everything we shared? How we shared love… when you said you loved me… and I loved you so much… was any of that real? Was that really love? Or was I just… convenient?” The accusation hung heavy in the air. “Don’t worry about my family! I can guarantee everything! I promise I will fight for you! I’ll prove it!”

Y/N looked at him, and for a moment, he saw a glimpse of the old Y/N, the one who had looked at him with affection. There was pain in her eyes, but it was quickly masked by a firm resolve.

“No, Woonhak,” she said gently but firmly. “Reality isn’t that simple. And promises made in moments like this… they don’t hold up against years of family ties and expectations. You’re just a naive kid who doesn’t know how harsh life can be yet.” The words were designed to wound, to push him away definitively. “Please, just forget me. Move on with your life. Find someone else, someone… easier. Someone better for you.” She took a step back. “Let me make it absolutely clear: there is nothing between us anymore. It’s over. Please, don’t look for me again. Don’t contact me. Just… let it go.”

And with that final, devastating dismissal, Y/N turned and walked quickly away, rejoining her oblivious colleagues, leaving Woonhak standing alone in the busy restaurant, shattered into a million pieces, the echoes of her words ringing in his ears. Naive kid. Forget me. It’s over.

The following days, weeks, were harder than the initial shock of the breakup text. The finality of Y/N’s words, the coldness in her eyes, the brutal dose of ‘reality’ she had administered, left no room for hope. There was no misunderstanding to clear up, no grand gesture he could make to win her back. She had made her choice. And her choice wasn’t him.

He forced himself to face the truth, however agonizing. He went back to their abandoned building one last time. The dusty air felt heavy with ghosts of laughter and whispered secrets. With trembling hands, he traced the initials carved into the windowsill – Y/N + WH. A monument to a love that was now officially dead. He didn’t cry this time. He just felt empty, hollowed out. He turned and walked away, pulling the metaphorical door shut on that chapter of his life. He promised himself he wouldn’t go back there again. He had to let go.

He threw himself into his studies with a ferocity born of desperation. He joined a study group, volunteered for extra projects, spent long hours in the library. He reconnected with his hobbies – photography, ironically, though he avoided taking pictures of people for a long time. He spent more time with Jaehyun and his other friends, forcing himself to engage, to laugh, to pretend he was okay. He cleaned his dorm room meticulously, packing away any small memento that reminded him of her – a movie ticket stub, a dried flower she’d tucked into his book, a silly doodle she’d drawn. Out of sight, hopefully, eventually, out of mind.

He was functional. He was coping. He was, by all outward appearances, moving on.

But the nights remained his undoing. When the distractions of the day faded, when the silence of his room pressed in, loneliness became a physical entity, wrapping its cold arms around him. His carefully constructed walls crumbled. Memories, unbidden and relentless, flooded his mind. Her smile as she handed him a warm drink. The feeling of her hand fitting perfectly in his. The soft glow of the fairy lights reflecting in her eyes in their secret sanctuary. The breathless excitement of a stolen kiss. The comforting weight of her head on his shoulder.

He remembered the sheer, unadulterated happiness he had felt, the naive certainty that their love was invincible. He remembered how deeply, how completely, he had loved her. And how utterly worthless it all felt now.

Tears would inevitably fall, silent tracks tracing paths down his cheeks in the darkness. The longing was a persistent ache, a phantom limb he couldn’t stop reaching for. He missed her. He missed the feeling of being loved by her, even if that love had proven conditional, fragile, ultimately surrendered to pragmatism and fear.

Eunbi’s words from years ago echoed with chilling accuracy: "No matter how much she loves you, she will always choose Chaewon and leave you." "Stay away from my sister, or you'll be the one who gets hurt."

She had been right. He hadn’t listened. He had believed in the fantasy, in the exceptions, in the power of their supposedly unique bond. And now, he was paying the price. Eunbi had warned him his love would destroy him. Looking back, staring into the lonely abyss of his heartbreak, Woonhak couldn’t help but think she was right. Love, or at least this love, hadn't conquered all. It had simply left him broken. And utterly alone.