buff-bambiii

[buff-bambiii]

[buff-bambiii]

Omgosh, i ADORE your stories! I was wondering if you could make an Anton story next? Pls pls pls

TYSM !! <3

I'd gladly love to write a story with Anton next!

[buff-bambiii]

My Bestfriend — S. ES

Pairing : Female!Reader x Song Eunseok.

Summary:

Oh Y/n and Song Eunseok have been inseparable since they were toddlers, growing up side by side in neighboring houses, their bond strengthened by the close friendship of their mothers. From chasing away bugs to bandaging scraped knees to protecting her from other mean classmates. Eunseok has always been Y/n’s quiet guardian — the one who stood between her and the world when it felt too loud.

Everything is thrown into question when things slowly started to change. Less time spend together.

Is she finally realizing that maybe… her best friend was never just her best friend?

The evening air was cooler now, brushing against their cheeks as Anton and Y/n walked slowly side by side. The sun had almost disappeared completely, and a silvery hue covered the quiet neighborhood. The path home felt strangely short despite neither of them saying much because this time, their fingers were intertwined.

Y/n glanced down at their hands, her thumb gently brushing his as they walked. It felt strange and new but in the best way. Anton didn’t say anything about it either he just held on, his hand warm and grounding. Every now and then, he’d glance her way, lips curved slightly in that familiar crooked smile.

“Still not used to it,” Y/n mumbled after a beat, nodding to their hands. Anton raised a brow. “Used to what?”

“This.” She gave their hands a small shake. “Want me to let go?” he teased, already tightening his grip slightly.

“No,” she said too quickly, then covered her mouth in embarrassment. “I mean… no. I’m getting used to it.” They both laughed softly, the kind of laugh that floats easily between people when everything feels light and genuine.

Front Porch Fumble

When they reached Y/n’s front door, they stopped. Neither of them moved to speak at first. The porch light flicked on above them automatically, casting a golden glow that made everything feel like a scene straight from a drama too perfect to be real.

Anton turned to face her fully, hand still holding hers. “Thanks for hanging out today,” he said, a bit softer now. “It was… honestly one of my favorite days.” Y/n’s breath hitched, her heart drumming faster in her chest. She looked up at him and nodded. “Mine too.”

Then, slowly very slowly Anton began to lean in. His gaze flicked from her eyes to her lips, and Y/n felt heat bloom in her cheeks so fast she was surprised she didn’t steam. She felt frozen but also… expectant. This was it. This was—

Click.

The door creaked open sharply. Both of them flinched, jerking their heads toward the source. Standing there, arms crossed and unimpressed, was Sion. He blinked. “I heard footsteps. Was wondering why you both weren’t coming inside.” His gaze shifted down to their clasped hands, and his brows lifted ever-so-slightly. Y/n opened her mouth, then closed it. Sion said nothing more. Just gave them a long, knowing look like a protective younger sibling caught in the middle of a K-drama cliffhanger. Then, with the same deadpan energy, he turned and walked back into the house.

Y/n groaned, dragging her free hand across her face. “I’m going to smother him in his sleep.” Anton chuckled. “It’s fine. Honestly, I think he saved me from passing out from nerves.”

Y/n looked up at him again, eyes wide. “You were nervous?”

“Still am,” he admitted, smiling. “You make me nervous in the best way.” Before she could respond, Mr. Oh appeared at the door, wearing his usual gentle smile—but this time with a raised brow.

“Oh? Not inviting him inside?” her dad asked, amusement dancing in his voice.

Y/n blinked. “I—uh—”

His gaze slid to their hands, still linked. The corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk. “Looks like I should start preparing for a wedding,” he muttered under his breath as he opened the door wider.

“Dad!”

Anton choked on air, turning red. “Come in,” Mr. Oh said, clearly enjoying every second of their embarrassment. Y/n reluctantly tugged Anton’s hand, guiding him inside. “Ignore them. All of them.” Anton leaned in slightly and whispered with a grin, “So no first kiss on the porch tonight?” She groaned again, laughing despite herself. “Not unless you want Sion filming it from the bushes.”

— The house smelled faintly of stir-fried vegetables and soy-glazed chicken, the remnants of dinner still lingering in the air. Laughter from earlier echoed softly in the back of Anton's mind as he sat with Y/n and her family, occasionally glancing her way as her dad made his usual string of witty comments.

Mrs. Oh had insisted Anton eat seconds, and though he was already full, he hadn’t dared say no. Mr. Oh had spent most of dinner teasing the two of them gently, of course asking things like, “So how long until we meet your parents, Anton?” and “You know, Y/n’s never let anyone else into her room this many times before.”

It was the kind of teasing that made Y/n groan and Anton laugh nervously, eyes flicking between her and her dad, unsure whether to grin or faint. After dinner, Mrs. Oh had started gathering plates while Anton helped carry things to the kitchen without needing to be asked. Sion, as usual, chimed in with commentary from the sidelines while sipping a juice box like a retired monarch.

Finally, when everything was cleaned up and the living room settled into the lull of a post-dinner haze, Y/n turned to Anton and tilted her head toward the stairs.

“Wanna go upstairs? I need to look over our presentation slides again before we meet with the teacher next week.”

Anton nodded immediately, though they both knew they wouldn’t really be looking at slides tonight.

As they began heading up, Sion called out from the couch, his voice laced with mischief. “Leave the door open!” Y/n paused on the stairwell and gave him a mock glare. “Don’t make me throw you out the window.” Mrs. Oh gently smacked the back of Sion’s head with a dish towel on her way to the kitchen. “Let them be, troublemaker.”

Anton chuckled under his breath, following Y/n up the stairs, his heart doing that stuttering beat it only seemed to do around her now.

In Y/n’s Room

Her bedroom was softly lit, with a warm toned lamp glowing beside the bed, and fairy lights draped along the window frame, giving the whole space a soft, dreamy quality. Anton stepped inside slowly, glancing around with more curiosity this time.

He’d been here before multiple times, thanks to their project—but this felt different now. It wasn’t just a study partner’s room anymore. It was hers. Y/n’s. And somehow, now that they were something more... he noticed everything differently. Plushies were arranged neatly on shelves, from small round ones to a few recognizable characters—most of which had clearly been there for years. A small row of scented candles lined her desk. Her favorite books were stacked on her nightstand, some dog-eared and well-loved.

But what caught his attention most were the photos on the wall. They weren’t flashy, but personal. Pictures of Y/n as a kid, some with Sion, many with Eunseok. One in particular had the three of them grinning at the beach, clearly from early teen years. Another was from a more recent school festival—Eunseok and Y/n holding cotton candy, laughing mid-conversation.

Anton stared quietly at them for a moment, his expression unreadable. Y/n noticed and sat down on her bed, patting the space beside her. “You can sit. I don’t bite.” He smiled and joined her, though his eyes flicked once more to the photos before returning to her face. “You guys look really close.”

“We are,” she replied softly, following his gaze. “Me, Eunseok, and Sion… we’ve always been like this small chaotic trio. He’s been around forever. I guess it shows.”

Anton nodded. “I get it. It’s hard to grow up with someone like that and not carry those years with you.” Y/n looked down at her hands, fiddling with the edge of her comforter. “Yeah… but things change too. People grow, feelings shift. You don’t always realize it until something… or someone makes you look at things differently.”

When she glanced back up, Anton was watching her, his eyes thoughtful, soft. “I didn’t mean to get between anything,” he said carefully.

“You didn’t,” Y/n said immediately. “You just… kind of showed up when I didn’t even realize I needed you to.” They sat in silence for a second, just staring at each other. And then, Anton smiled soft and wide and bumped her shoulder with his. “Well… I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” she said with a laugh. “Mostly.” Anton let out a quiet chuckle, then leaned back slightly on his hands. “I like your room,” he said. “It feels like you.” Y/n blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Comfortable. Bright. Slightly chaotic.” He grinned at the last part. She playfully shoved him, and he laughed again. From downstairs, a faint "You two still alive up there?" drifted up from Mr. Oh, making them both snort in amusement. “Still breathing!” Y/n called back before lowering her voice. “Barely.” Anton leaned over and whispered, “Worth the risk.”

— The house had settled into a calm hush, the kind of quiet that only comes late at night when the world outside feels like it’s gone to sleep. The warm glow of the living room lamp washed over Y/n as she sat beside her mom on the couch, still feeling the lingering heat on her cheeks from being so close to Anton just moments before.

She could still hear the soft murmur of voices upstairs Sion teasing Anton probably, digging through his wardrobe to find something oversized that would serve as makeshift pajamas. The contrast between the muffled sounds and the cozy quiet downstairs made it all feel strangely domestic. Almost like this wasn’t a one-time sleepover, but something familiar… natural.

Mrs. Oh smiled knowingly as she glanced at her daughter.

“You like him,” she said simply. Y/n paused, then slowly turned her head, her lips tugging into a sheepish smile. “Was it that obvious?” Her mother chuckled gently, brushing a stray strand of hair behind Y/n’s ear. “You were glowing earlier, sweetheart. And when a girl glows like that, it’s never because of the stir-fried chicken.”

Y/n laughed quietly, leaning her head against her mom’s shoulder. “He’s… different. In a good way.”

Mrs. Oh tilted her head toward her, resting her cheek lightly on top of Y/n’s head. “He seems kind. Respectful. The way he looks at you? It’s like he’s trying to memorize every second.”

Y/n bit her lip, remembering the way Anton’s eyes had lingered on her earlier how attentive he was to everything she said, even the random tangents about dreams and favorite songs, like every word mattered.

“It’s still new,” she whispered, almost to herself.

Mrs. Oh nodded. “New doesn’t mean uncertain. Sometimes new just means exciting. I’m proud of you, you know.”

“For what?”

“For growing up��� for letting someone in, when I know you’ve always been so careful with your heart.”

Y/n blinked slowly, the weight of her mother’s words sitting deeply in her chest. She hadn’t even realized just how true they were until now. Before she could say anything back, they heard footsteps on the stairs. Sion was first to appear, dramatically flopping onto the couch beside his mom with a yawn. Anton followed moments later, now dressed in an t-shirt with some outdated band logo and a pair of loose pajama pants that clearly belonged to Sion—based on how small they were on him.

Anton looked slightly awkward, rubbing the back of his neck with a crooked smile. “Thank you again, Mrs. Oh. For letting me stay.”

Mrs. Oh stood up, brushing her hands down her pajama slacks. “You’re always welcome, Anton. Now, get some rest, both of you. I’m heading to bed—and I expect this one,” she glanced at Sion, “to not sneak into the kitchen at midnight.”

“No promises,” Sion muttered, already half-asleep on the couch.

Y/n stood with Anton and led him down the hall toward the guestroom, the same space her uncle used to crash in whenever he visited. It was small but neat, the sheets freshly changed earlier that week. Anton stepped inside, glancing around. “Cozy.”

“Only the best for our accidental guest,” Y/n teased, crossing her arms as she leaned against the doorway. He turned to face her then, a gentle expression settling onto his face. “Thanks for tonight. For… everything.” Y/n smiled, the moment stretching between them.

For a second, she almost leaned in again, but stopped herself, aware of the creaky floorboards and her brother probably still very much awake down the hall. Instead, she gave him a small wave. “Goodnight, Anton.”

“Sweetdreams, Y/n.”

As she walked back toward her room, her heart pounded—not with nerves, but something quieter and warmer. Something steady. She closed her door and fell back onto her bed with a soft sigh, staring at the ceiling with a smile tugging at her lips. And somewhere down the hall, Anton lay in the guestroom staring at the ceiling too—thinking about the way her eyes lit up when she laughed, and wondering if this was what falling felt like.

— The morning air was crisp, brushing lightly against Y/n’s cheeks as she and Anton stepped off the bus and into the school courtyard. Her fingers still tingled slightly from brushing against Anton’s when he casually handed her his scarf after noticing she was cold.

The moment didn’t last long, however, as the chorus of familiar voices greeted them from ahead. “Hiiii~ Anton.” Somi and Winter sang in unison, voices laced with teasing as they leaned toward each other, grinning wide. Y/n groaned playfully, nudging Winter with her shoulder as she rolled her eyes. “You guys are impossible.” Anton, ever the polite one, gave a little bow of his head. “Good morning. Nice to see you all.”

“Aw, he’s polite too,” Yunjin cooed under her breath, elbowing Somi who nearly doubled over in giggles. Y/n’s cheeks burned faintly as she watched Anton slip away toward his own group Seunghan and Sohee already waving him over near the east building steps. For a moment, she stared after him, her chest doing that unfamiliar little flutter again. It wasn’t just the way he walked beside her anymore, or the protective way he handled her bag, or even how natural he looked in her home the night before—it was how safe she felt. How easy it all was.

But as she turned back toward her girls, a faint gnawing question surfaced. One that tugged at her with quiet persistence.

“Hey,” Y/n started, brow furrowing slightly, “have you guys seen Eunseok? He didn’t show up this morning.”

Each of her friends looked around before shaking their heads.

“Nope, he’s usually attached to your hip by now,” Winter added, lightly biting into her croissant.

“I texted him,” Y/n mumbled. “No reply.”

Right then, the sound of someone rushing across the pavement made her head snap up. The courtyard was already clearing as students began heading inside, but one figure jogged toward the main gates—hair messy, backpack slung haphazardly over one shoulder, sneakers loosely tied. It was him.

Eunseok. Their eyes locked for a second in the sea of movement. He gave her a short smile not the usual cocky grin or teasing smirk. Just a simple, closed lip smile before he veered off toward where Sungchan and Shotaro were waiting near the bench by the front building.

Y/n blinked, her lips parting slightly. Something felt… off. Not wrong exactly, just different.

“Come on,” Anton’s voice brought her back, his gentle hand reaching for her bag. She instinctively clutched it, raising a brow. “I can carry it.”

“I want to,” he replied with a soft grin, already slipping it off her shoulder despite her weak protest.

“Anton—”

“You carried it every day for how long? Let me do it for once,” he said, his voice low, eyes briefly catching hers. Y/n hesitated for half a second before relenting, a small smile forming as she bumped her shoulder lightly against his. “You’re such a softie.”

He didn’t deny it.

Meanwhile, from across the yard, Eunseok watched. Standing with his hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, he leaned slightly against the bench as his eyes followed them—how easily they moved together now, laughing over something only they could hear.

“She looks cute.”

The words had left him before he even realized it, spoken low enough to be real but loud enough for his friends to catch.

Sungchan froze for a moment, exchanging a glance with Shotaro before his lips quirked. “You said it, not us,” he teased, clapping a hand on Eunseok’s shoulder. Eunseok groaned internally and turned to open his locker with just a bit more force than necessary. Shotaro tried to stifle his chuckle but failed. “Dude… you really just said that like you were in a drama.” “Shut up.”

“You like her,” Sungchan added, mock-gasping. “You like like her.”

“I never said that,” Eunseok muttered, avoiding their eyes.

“Yeah, but you didn’t not say it either,” Shotaro pointed out smugly.

Eunseok didn’t respond. Instead, he looked back over his shoulder once more, just in time to see Anton open the classroom door for Y/n, one hand still gripping the strap of her bag. She turned slightly, looking back with a smile as Anton said something that made her laugh—head tipping back, eyes crinkling, cheeks a soft pink.

Something tightened in Eunseok’s chest.

He’d seen her smile a thousand times before. He’d made her laugh louder, smirk wider, eyes roll harder than anyone else could. But this time… This time she wasn’t smiling at him.

“Come on, lover boy,” Sungchan muttered. “Let’s get to class before you die from dramatic pining.”

“Bite me,” Eunseok grumbled, but he followed anyway hands shoved deeper in his pockets, the weight of something unspoken settling over him like fog.

— The hallway was quiet, echoing faint footsteps and the occasional closing of classroom doors as students began drifting toward their next classes or the cafeteria. Y/n stepped out of the girls’ restroom, adjusting the strap of her backpack and smoothing down the front of her uniform. She had barely taken a step when she suddenly collided with someone rounding the corner.

A soft “oof” escaped her lips as she stumbled slightly back.

“Oh—Y/n!” came the familiar voice. She looked up, blinking as Eunseok stood there, hands raised in apology, his expression sheepish. “Crap, sorry. Didn’t see you.”

“It’s okay,” she murmured, brushing her hair behind her ear, a faint smile appearing before fading when she noticed the strange look in his eyes. There was an odd, tentative pause between them. Eunseok awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze at first. His voice dropped lower when he finally spoke. “Uhm… You and Anton…” he started, glancing to the side, “are you guys—?”

Y/n’s head snapped toward him, eyes wide for a second before she quickly dropped her gaze to the floor, nervously fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “K-kinda,” she admitted softly, almost as if confessing a secret. “Yes… but also not official. Yet.” Eunseok nodded slowly, forcing a small smile onto his face. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was a hollow tug in his chest, faint but unmistakable.

“Kinda saw it coming,” he said with a light chuckle, masking the strange tightness he felt under his ribs. “Just… don’t go replacing me with the ‘best friend’ title or anything.” That made Y/n look up, her eyes meeting his with a sincerity that caught him off guard.

“No one can replace you as my best friend, Seok,” she replied, her voice steady, firm—maybe even a little too firm. She reached out and hooked her arm around his, holding onto it tightly. Too tightly.

Eunseok stared at their joined arms for a beat. He could feel the warmth of her grip, how natural it still was to stand so close to her. How much it hadn’t changed. And how much it had. He quickly blinked the thought away, grinning like old times and reaching out with his free hand to ruffle her hair, playfully ruining the neat strands she had spent her break fixing.

“Hey!” she laughed, pulling away half-heartedly.

The bell rang overhead, cutting through the tension with its shrill sound. Eunseok, ever the laid-back one, slung his arm casually over her shoulders like he used to. For a moment, it was like nothing had changed two friends walking through the hall, side by side, stuck in their bubble of inside jokes and quiet familiarity.

“And it’s almost your birthday,” Eunseok said with a teasing smirk. “So… is there anything you want? Other than my amazing presence.”

Y/n snorted. “Actually, yeah. I want you to be more around. Like before.” Her tone grew more sincere as they turned down the staircase. “My mom even said she misses your presence in the mornings. It feels… weird without you around.” Eunseok’s smirk softened, falling away into something more thoughtful.

“Why were you late anyway?” she asked, nudging him lightly. “You’re never late. You’re usually the one waking me up.” He scratched the back of his head again, looking sheepish. “Uh… slept through my alarm. Been happening a lot.”

“Why?”

A pause. A too-long pause. Eunseok shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced down at the floor, kicking at an imaginary pebble on the stair.

“Haven’t been sleeping great the last few days,” he finally admitted. His voice was light—too light. Like he was trying to pass it off as no big deal. But Y/n looked at him longer than he expected, brows gently furrowed. Her lips parted slightly, ready to push further, ask more, dig into that quiet worry behind his eyes.

He beat her to it. “But hey,” he said quickly, grinning again to steer the conversation away, “maybe I just need you to come over and sing lullabies again. Worked in third grade.” Y/n rolled her eyes, though a chuckle escaped her. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible but charming,” he added.

“And annoying.”

He feigned offense. “You wound me.” As they stepped outside toward the lunch benches, the chatter of the schoolyard filled the air again. Students called to one another, the smell of kimbap and tteokbokki wafted from the cafeteria line, and somewhere in the distance, Somi was waving her arms wildly trying to get Y/n’s attention.

Y/n waved back, but her thoughts lingered on the boy next to her. On the way he looked tired behind the laughter. On the way his smiles didn’t shine as brightly as they used to.

She didn’t say anything more. But she’d noticed. And deep down, Eunseok knew she had.

Y/n and Eunseok stepped out into the courtyard, sunlight casting long shadows as the midday warmth settled over campus. Their group of friends were already at their usual spot half-eaten lunch trays scattered on the table, laughter rising in bursts between bites.

Anton was seated on one side of the picnic bench, laughing at something Sohee had just said, while Somi and Sungchan were arguing dramatically over who could finish a spicy rice cake faster. The moment Anton saw Y/n approaching with Eunseok at her side, his expression subtly shifted—an easy smile forming on his lips, though his eyes flickered ever so briefly toward Eunseok.

Without saying a word, Anton slid his tray a few inches to the left, leaving a spot open beside him. Y/n caught the silent invitation. She hesitated just slightly, glancing at Eunseok beside her. He noticed. And he smiled, all soft and casual, even if his chest felt a little tight again.

“Go on,” he said with a small nudge, motioning toward Anton. “You’ll get cold rice if you don’t.” Y/n gave him a grateful glance before making her way over, taking the spot next to Anton. As she sat down, she felt the briefest brush of Anton’s fingers against hers under the table a touch so light it almost didn’t happen, but enough to make her heart skip in her chest.

Anton leaned in, voice low. “Hey. You good?”

She smiled, a little flustered but nodding. “Yeah. You?”

He nodded back. “Better now.”

But before Y/n could dwell on that any longer, Winter’s voice cut across the group with all the delicacy of a crashing cymbal. “Eunseok~” she sing-songed, chin in her hand as she turned to face him, “any updates about Chaeyoung and her confession?” Her voice was loaded with mischief, instantly causing heads to turn toward him.

Y/n froze, blinking at the sudden shift in conversation. She wasn’t the only one. “Haven’t seen her come near us lately,” Winter added thoughtfully, snatching a piece of dumpling off of Sungchan’s tray like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Sungchan gasped, scandalized. “Winter—! That was mine, I’ve been saving that bite!”

Winter ignored him entirely, chewing with satisfaction while Eunseok rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Chaeyoung?” Anton asked, brows slightly raised. His tone was light, but his eyes flicked toward Y/n in curiosity. “She’s the one who—?”

“Confessed to Eunseok like a while ago,” Yunjin supplied helpfully, eyes glinting with curiosity as she nudged her best friend in the side. Eunseok gave a sheepish shrug. “She… did. But I said I wasn’t really looking to date anyone right now.” That earned a few teasing “ooooohs” from the group, Somi even tossing a piece of seaweed paper at Eunseok’s head.

“What?” he protested. “I let her down easy! No ghosting or anything. I’m a gentleman.”

“Mm,” Winter hummed, unconvinced, but too focused on claiming more food to follow up. Y/n caught Anton’s gaze from the corner of her eye. He hadn’t said anything, just idly stirring his rice with chopsticks, lips pursed in faint thought. She could sense a question forming, maybe even the mildest hint of concern.

She reached under the table, brushing her pinky gently against his, her silent way of saying: Don’t overthink it. It’s not like that.

He responded with a barely-there smile, pinky hooking hers for a second before letting go. Sungchan, still mourning his stolen food, suddenly clapped a hand on the table. “Okay, but why is Chaeyoung avoiding us like we’re contagious?”

“Maybe she saw Anton and Y/n holding hands earlier” Shotaro chimed in, only half-joking.

The table exploded in noise. Yunjin gasped dramatically. “WHAT?! I knew it!” Winter let out a squeal. “Wait, you guys are officially official now?!” Y/n immediately flushed bright red. “No—we’re not—well, kind of, but not—” Anton, ever calm, just laughed, gently nudging her knee with his. “We’re taking things slow.”

That somehow made the squeals worse. Eunseok smiled, trying not to think too hard about how Y/n didn’t deny it. His fingers fidgeted with the cap of his water bottle. He told himself it was fine. He was fine. He had to be.

But across the table, Anton looked at him again. And this time, their eyes didn’t look away so quickly. There was something unspoken there—civil, polite, but undeniably aware. Like they both knew.

Something had shifted. And it wasn’t just the weather.

— The final bell rang with a shrill cry, echoing down the hallways as students flooded out of classrooms like a dam breaking. Laughter and chatter filled the air as bags were slung over shoulders, shoes squeaking against the linoleum floor.

Y/n stood by her locker, shoving her books in absentmindedly, still thinking about lunch and the looks exchanged—not just the teasing ones from her friends, but the quiet, unreadable glance Anton and Eunseok had shared. She couldn't shake the feeling that something unsaid had lingered in the air long after the group had dispersed. Just as she was about to close her locker, a familiar voice chimed in beside her.

"Need a walk-home buddy?" Eunseok asked, a half-eaten choco pie in hand, his expression casual.

Y/n blinked, glancing around. “You’re not heading home with the guys today?” He shrugged, finishing the snack and crumpling the wrapper in one hand. “Sungchan’s got extra practice, and Shotaro ditched us for bubble tea with the photography club. I figured I’d crash your walk for old times’ sake.”

She smiled faintly, closing her locker with a click. “Sounds nostalgic.”

“Right? Just like the good ol’ days when I used to carry your bag and you used to pretend you weren’t waiting for me after class.”

“I did not!” she protested, nudging him in the arm as they began walking side-by-side toward the school gate.

“You so did,” he grinned. “You even used to pretend you were just ‘coincidentally’ always on your phone near the gate.”

Y/n rolled her eyes with a light laugh. “I don’t recall.”

“Liar,” he teased, bumping his shoulder against hers.

As they walked down the street together, the afternoon sun washed everything in a golden hue. The breeze was gentle, just enough to rustle the leaves overhead. They passed by the usual snack stalls and convenience stores—places they’d frequented together for years. There was a familiar rhythm to their walk, a comfort that didn’t require constant conversation.

“I know I’ve been kind of… absent lately,” Eunseok eventually said, his tone quieter now.

Y/n glanced at him. “You’ve been going through something?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “Maybe. I don’t know. I think I just feel... weird.”

“Weird how?”

Eunseok kept his eyes forward, his hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets. “I guess… watching everything change. You, me, us. Anton coming into the picture. I knew it would happen someday, you know? But it still caught me off guard.”

Y/n didn’t say anything right away. Her gaze dropped to the sidewalk as they walked.

“You’re still important to me, Seok. That doesn’t change,” she said softly. “Anton or no Anton.”

He smiled, though it was the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know. I’m just still adjusting. It’s weird seeing you with someone and realizing I’m not the center of your world anymore.”

Her footsteps slowed just slightly, and he noticed.

“You’ll always be a huge part of my world,” she said honestly. “But I’m allowed to let it grow a little, right?”

That made him pause.

“You are,” he admitted. “And Anton’s not a bad guy, for the record. He really… likes you.”

Y/n felt a warmth spread in her chest and cheeks.

“I like him too,” she murmured. “You staying for dinner?” she asked glancing up at him, a little hopeful.

Eunseok shook his head. “Not tonight. But I’ll stop by tomorrow morning. I know your mom’s probably lowkey mad I haven’t had breakfast there all week.”

“She’s definitely going to lecture you,” Y/n smirked.

“I’d expect nothing less.”

They stopped at the end of the street. For a second, neither of them moved. Then Eunseok looked at her, something unreadable in his expression. “Hey, Y/n?”

“Hm?”

He hesitated for a breath. “Don’t fall for him too hard, okay?”

Her smile faltered, just for a second. “Why?”

“Because if he ever hurts you… I’ll never forgive him. Or myself.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. So instead, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. Tightly.

Eunseok froze for a second, then slowly returned the hug. His chin rested against the side of her head, and neither of them said anything for a while. When they pulled apart, he gave her a small, lopsided grin. “Go inside before your mom thinks I’m confessing or something.”

Y/n laughed, shaking her head as she turned to head home.

But even as she walked away, she felt the weight of his words stay with her. So did he. And neither of them said what was really on their minds Y/n stepped into the house, her bag dropping by the door with a soft thump. The house smelled faintly of sesame oil and something simmering on the stove—her mom must’ve started prepping dinner early. She could hear quiet music from the kitchen, the low hum of a pot boiling.

But Y/n wasn’t thinking about food.

Her mind was still tangled up in the walk she’d just shared with Eunseok. His words echoed faintly, like the last vibration of a guitar string.

“Don’t fall for him too hard…”

She sat on the edge of the couch and pulled her phone from her pocket, her fingers brushing across the screen absently. A notification caught her eye—Anton.

A message.

Anton: “Hey… can I ask you something kind of serious?”

Her heart skipped once. She sat up straighter, thumb hovering for a moment before she typed back.

Y/n: “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

He replied almost immediately.

Anton: “It’s about Eunseok. I don’t want to sound jealous or anything. I trust you, really. But…”

She waited, staring at the three little dots indicating he was still typing.

Anton: “It’s the way he looks at you sometimes. Like… there’s more there than just friendship.”

Y/n stared at the message, her chest tightening a little. Anton followed up quickly:

Anton: “I know you two are close. And I’ve never wanted to get in the way of that. I like how close you are. But sometimes it feels like… I’m stepping into something he’s been quietly guarding for a long time.”

She read the message once. Then again. It wasn’t accusatory. It wasn’t dramatic or defensive. It was honest. Anton, sweet and perceptive, had seen something—and now it was her turn to respond.

Y/n: “I get what you’re saying. And I won’t lie, I’ve wondered about it before too. There were moments where I felt… something more, from his side. But he’s never said anything. We’ve known each other for so long, sometimes it’s hard to tell if it’s love or habit.”

A few seconds passed before Anton replied.

Anton: “That’s fair. I guess I just needed to know if you see him like that. Or if there’s a part of you that still holds space for that ‘what if.’”

She bit her lip, her thumb hesitating over the keyboard. She could feel the weight of the question—not just the words, but what they meant. Anton wasn’t trying to put her in a corner. He wasn’t being possessive. He just wanted to understand what he was walking into… and maybe if he was walking alone.

So she typed honestly.

Y/n: “I care about him, so much. He’s been there for most of my life.. i really don't know..”

This time, Anton took longer to reply. Her heart beat faster as she stared at the screen. Then—

Anton: “ I’ll be honest—I’ve never been the jealous type. But watching the two of you together… it makes me a little afraid. Because I know how easy it is to fall for someone who’s always been by your side.”

Y/n took a deep breath, holding her phone against her chest for a second.

Then she replied.

Y/n: “Thank you for being honest with me. You have every right to feel how you feel..”

Anton’s final message came a moment later.

Anton: “Okay. That’s all I wanted to ask. See you tomorrow, Y/n.💛”

Y/n set the phone down, staring at the ceiling for a moment.

A lot had changed in the past few weeks. But somehow, this felt like one of those silent turning points.

She knew things with Eunseok would never be simple—not when a history that deep existed.

— The soft golden light of early morning filtered through the kitchen windows, casting long shadows across the tidy room. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sweet aroma of toasted bread and scrambled eggs. Eunseok sat at the small wooden table, quietly spooning cereal, his gaze distant as if the morning quiet was helping him piece together thoughts that had been tangled for days. The clatter of dishes and the hum of the coffee maker were the only sounds aside from the gentle tapping of raindrops on the windowpane.

Y/n’s mother moved gracefully around the kitchen, her movements fluid and practiced. She glanced at her daughter every so often with a soft smile as Y/n bustled about, putting the finishing touches on her school bag and smoothing out the slight wrinkles in her blouse. The peaceful rhythm of their morning was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. Sion quickly opened the front door and Anton stepped inside, holding a small bag of pastries, a tentative smile on his face. “Good morning,” he said, slightly sheepish, clearly unsure if his timing was ideal. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

Y/n’s mother turned from the stove, surprised but warm. “Anton, what a lovely surprise! Come in, come in,” she said, ushering him forward. “Breakfast is just about ready.” She quickly wiped her hands on her apron and offered him a seat at the table.

Anton nodded appreciatively and took his place across from Eunseok. The moment their eyes met, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere. Eunseok’s expression hardened imperceptibly; the warmth between old friends flickered with a new tension. Anton, too, straightened in his seat, the friendly smile faltering just for a moment as if weighing something unspoken. The air between them became thick with things left unsaid—questions, memories, quiet rivalries. Y/n’s mother noticed the shift, though no words passed. She poured coffee into Anton’s cup with a gentle smile but found herself stealing glances at the two boys, sensing the fragile line they were walking.

Y/n entered the kitchen, rubbing sleep from her eyes, cheeks still flushed from just waking. “Anton! You’re here early!” she exclaimed with a genuine smile. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Anton returned her smile, though it was tinged with a quiet nervousness. “I thought I’d come by before school, say hi.”

Breakfast unfolded with polite conversation. Y/n’s mother asked about school and homework, while Y/n tried to maintain the easy banter she shared with both boys, though the subtle tension between Eunseok and Anton was like a low hum in the background—felt but unspoken. Eunseok’s gaze lingered on Y/n longer than usual, and Anton stole glances that were quick but full of meaning. Y/n sensed it all, a fluttering nervousness mixed with warmth.

Once breakfast was over, plates cleared, and backpacks slung over shoulders, the three friends stepped out the front door, locking it behind them. The neighborhood was waking up, birds chirping softly, and the cool morning air filled their lungs as they began walking toward the bus stop.

Y/n chatted animatedly, her voice bright and light, but she stumbled over her words now and then, her usual clumsiness showing through. The sidewalk was narrow and bordered by a low curb that separated it from the quiet street. As she rounded a corner, her foot caught on the uneven pavement edge.

Suddenly, a car came hurtling down the street, far faster than was safe for the residential area. Y/n’s balance faltered; she slipped dangerously close to the curb, the sudden motion startling her. Before Anton could react, Eunseok’s hand shot out, grasping her wrist firmly but gently, pulling her back from the edge with practiced ease.

“Careful!” Eunseok’s voice was low, edged with concern. His eyes searched hers, making sure she was steady.

Y/n’s cheeks flamed, both from embarrassment and the sudden rush of adrenaline. “Thanks… I’m such a klutz,” she muttered, brushing her hair behind her ear.

Anton caught up beside them, placing a steadying hand on Y/n’s back. “Are you okay?” His voice was warm and filled with relief.

“I’m fine,” Y/n assured, but her eyes kept darting between Eunseok and Anton. She noticed something different in the way Eunseok was looking at her, a quiet intensity that hadn’t been there before.

For a brief moment, the three of them stood in the stillness of the morning, the sounds of the neighborhood carrying faintly around them. The tension was palpable but softened by the warmth of their closeness. As the bus came into view, a yellow blur against the pavement, they moved forward together. Each lost in their own thoughts but sharing this moment—connected, complicated, and quietly charged beneath the surface of their usual routine.

The bus hummed quietly as it cruised through the neighborhood, the morning sunlight streaming through the windows and casting soft golden patches across the worn seats. Anton and Y/n sat side by side near the middle of the bus, their shoulders almost touching but both careful to keep a comfortable space between them. The usual chatter of students filled the air, but around them, an unspoken tension simmered.

Y/n’s fingers absentmindedly traced the faint redness on her wrist, where Eunseok had caught her just moments ago. The memory of his strong grip, steady and sure, lingered like a gentle spark beneath her skin. She glanced down again, as if trying to make sense of the confusing flutter in her chest.

Anton’s sharp eyes caught the movement. He noticed the slight crease in her brow and the way her fingers hovered protectively over that spot. Yet, he said nothing. Instead, he reached over just enough to lightly brush her hand with his thumb, a small gesture meant to comfort but also to quietly claim this space between them.

Y/n’s breath hitched for a moment before she relaxed, a shy smile tugging at her lips as she met Anton’s gaze. His eyes were steady and warm, full of something unspoken—a question? A promise? She wasn’t sure, but the look made her heart beat a little faster.

Behind them, Eunseok settled into his seat, his eyes occasionally flicking forward to watch Y/n and Anton. There was no anger in his gaze, only a quiet complexity. He bit his lower lip and shifted uncomfortably, the mix of protectiveness and something more tangled in his expression.

The bus lurched slightly over a bump in the road, and Y/n shifted closer to Anton without realizing it. Their hands brushed again, and this time, neither pulled away.

Outside the window, the familiar sights of their neighborhood passed by—the rows of trees, sleepy houses, and early risers on the sidewalks. But inside the bus, time seemed to slow just a little, as if this small bubble of proximity was all that mattered.

Anton’s voice finally broke the silence, low and gentle, “You okay?” he asked, nodding toward her wrist.

Y/n glanced down, then back up at him, her cheeks flushed. “Yeah… thanks to Eunseok.”

Anton smiled softly. “He’s got your back,” he said quietly, but there was something protective in his tone, too.

Y/n looked away shyly, then back again. “I guess I’m lucky to have both of you.”

Anton squeezed her hand once more before releasing it. “Yeah… you are.”

The bus slowed as it neared the school, the routine awakening of the day pressing back into their reality. Y/n took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for the complex dance of friendship, feelings, and unspoken words that awaited once the doors opened.

— A couple weeks later. The usual school day had dragged on, heavy with a restless energy Y/n couldn’t shake. When her friends had casually asked if they could come over to her house after school, she hesitated for only a moment before agreeing. It felt like exactly what she needed—some distraction, some comfort.

Going home together, their lively chatter filled the air, but Y/n’s mind was elsewhere, swirling with confusion and quiet questions she wasn’t ready to answer.

Once inside, the familiar warmth of her home wrapped around her. Her mom looked up from preparing dinner, eyes lighting up with surprise and delight at seeing Y/n’s friends gathered in the living room. “Oh, what a lovely surprise! Come in, girls,” she greeted with her usual gentle smile.

Y/n introduced each of her friends, feeling a quiet pride as her mom welcomed them as if they were longtime family friends. The girls settled in, sinking into the couches and chairs, the soft clink of snack bowls and the hum of their laughter filling the room.

As the conversation meandered, Y/n’s heart grew heavier. The moment to speak up had arrived. She drew a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Can I be honest with you all?” she began, looking around at their expectant faces. “I really like Anton. I’ve liked him for a while now. But lately… I keep thinking about Eunseok. And it’s confusing because I thought those feelings were gone. But they’re still there. And I don’t understand why.”

Winter’s eyes softened, her voice tender. “That’s so hard, Y/n. When your heart feels pulled in two directions.”

Yunjin smirked, leaning forward with a teasing glint. “You’ve always had a thing for Eunseok, though. Everyone knows it. Even he probably feels the same, whether he wants to admit it or not.”

The others giggled, and Y/n’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink. She looked down, running her fingers nervously along the edge of her sleeve.

“I don’t know what to do,” she confessed. “I like Anton, I really do. But then there’s this… pull towards Eunseok. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Or myself.”

Her friends exchanged glances, sympathy and understanding in their eyes. “Sometimes, feelings don’t make sense right away,” Somi said softly. “Maybe you just need more time to figure things out.”

Unbeknownst to Y/n and the girls, her mom stood quietly in the doorway, absorbing every word. She smiled gently, knowing this was a crossroads for her daughter—a moment that would shape how she navigated her heart going forward.

When the girls eventually said their goodbyes and left, Y/n’s mom guided her into the kitchen, where the comforting aroma of cooking filled the space.

“Y/n,” she began softly, sitting beside her at the kitchen table, “I heard some of what you said earlier.” Y/n’s breath caught, cheeks heating again as she met her mom’s understanding gaze.

“You’re caught between two people,” her mom continued, her tone kind but firm. “And that’s a difficult place to be.”

Y/n nodded, her voice trembling. “I don’t know who I want. I feel like I’m being pulled both ways, and it’s tearing me up inside.”

Her mom reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind Y/n’s ear. “You know, love is messy and complicated. It’s okay to feel unsure. What matters is being honest—with yourself and with those around you.”

Y/n swallowed hard. “But what if I hurt one of them?”

Her mom’s eyes shone with warmth. “You won’t be the first or the last to hurt someone by being uncertain. But not being honest, not choosing—those can cause more pain in the long run.”

She squeezed Y/n’s hand gently. “You have to take the time you need, but promise me you’ll be brave enough to face the truth when it comes. Both for your sake and theirs.”

Tears pricked at Y/n’s eyes—not from sadness, but from relief. For the first time in weeks, she felt the tight knot in her chest loosen just a little.

“Thank you, Mom,” she whispered. “I’ll try. I really will.”

Her mom smiled, standing to finish dinner. “That’s all I can ask for.”

The house felt quieter after that, but Y/n’s mind buzzed with new determination. She knew the path ahead wouldn’t be simple or easy, but now she understood that clarity wasn’t just about choosing between two boys—it was about being true to herself. And maybe, just maybe, that was the first step toward finding peace.

— Another week or two has passed. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the café window, casting a warm golden hue over the wooden table where Y/n sat, fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. Anton was sitting across from her, his expression soft and curious. The hum of distant conversations and the clink of cutlery filled the space around them, but to Y/n, it all faded into the background. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest. “Anton…” she finally said, her voice quiet.

He looked up from his cup, smile still calm and patient. “Yeah?”

She hesitated, eyes dropping to the table. “There’s something I need to tell you. And I don’t really know how to say it without it sounding… awful.”

Anton leaned forward, his eyes gentle now. “Just say it, Y/n. Whatever it is, I’ll be okay.” That only made it harder. Her throat tightened.

“I… I’ve really loved getting to know you these past weeks,” she started slowly, each word weighed with honesty. “You’re patient. Kind. Funny in your own subtle way. And I’ve genuinely liked you, Anton.”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But?”

Y/n’s voice cracked. “But there’s someone else I can’t stop thinking about. Someone I’ve known for years and thought—really thought—I’d moved on from. But I haven’t. And I’m so confused and torn, because I wanted to give us a real chance… I meant to. But it’s not fair to you if I keep pretending I’m not holding back.”

Anton sat there in silence for a moment, letting her words settle. Y/n could barely bring herself to look at him, already feeling her eyes sting with tears.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I did. And now I’m hurting you and I hate myself for it.”

Anton finally reached out, placing a warm hand over hers. It startled her. She looked up, and to her surprise, his expression wasn’t angry or disappointed—it was… understanding. Almost bittersweet.

“Y/n,” he said softly, “you’re not a bad person. You were honest with me. And I think I always kind of… knew.”

Y/n blinked, stunned. “Knew what?”

He chuckled, gently squeezing her hand. “That there was someone else. You talked about Eunseok a lot, you know. Even when you didn’t realize it. The way you’d light up when you told stories about him. The way your eyes searched for him sometimes, even when we were together.”

Tears started to spill down her cheeks before she could stop them. “I’m so sorry, Anton.”

He reached over, wiping one of the tears with his thumb, his smile sad but sincere. “Don’t be. You can’t force love. And I’d rather you be honest with me than try to fake something that could never be fully real.”

Y/n broke into a sob, burying her face in her hands. “I really didn’t want to hurt you…”

“I know,” he whispered. “But you have to follow your heart. Even if it’s not with me.”

Later that night, after hours of sitting in her room trying to process everything, Y/n found herself walking out into the quiet evening air. The breeze was crisp, the stars barely visible behind soft clouds. Her chest still ached from crying, but there was something she needed to do—something she couldn’t leave unsaid any longer.

She typed a message to Eunseok:

Can you meet me at the park near our place? Just for a bit.

His reply came less than a minute later:

Be there in 10.

The park was quiet under the faint glow of the streetlamps. A soft breeze drifted through the trees, rustling the leaves above. Y/n stood near the swings, hugging her arms as she waited. The cold nipped gently at her skin, but it was nothing compared to the ache in her chest.

When she heard approaching footsteps, she turned her head. Eunseok’s familiar figure emerged from the shadows of the trail, hands in his jacket pockets, brow slightly furrowed. He looked around for a second before his eyes met hers and immediately, his expression shifted.

She looked like she had cried. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her cheeks were still damp in spots, though she tried to hide it behind a small smile. “Y/n…” he said softly, slowing his steps. “You okay?”

She nodded wordlessly, but even he could see the lie in her silence. “I broke things off with Anton,” she whispered finally, her voice barely carried by the wind.

Eunseok’s expression didn’t change immediately—maybe he had already expected it—but he took a few steps closer. “You did?”

“Mm,” she hummed. “Today.”

He noticed it then—another tear had escaped the corner of her eye, trailing silently down her cheek.

Without saying anything, Eunseok slowly crouched down in front of her to be at eye level. His hand reached out instinctively, brushing that tear away with the gentlest touch, his thumb lingering just long enough to feel the heat in her skin.

His voice was soft. “Why?” Y/n stared at him, lips trembling. “Why did you end it?”

She let out a shaky breath, then without thinking—her fists balled up, and she began hitting his chest lightly. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make him feel her frustration.

“You’re so stupid,” she muttered through clenched teeth, hitting him again. “So unbelievably stupid, Eunseok.”

“Y/n—?”

“Do you really not get it?” she cried, her voice rising just slightly. “I couldn’t keep going with Anton because it wasn’t fair to him! Because I kept thinking about you!”

He stared, caught off guard, frozen in place.

Y/n hiccuped through her tears, still half-heartedly pushing her fists against his chest. “I hated thinking about you and Chaeyoung… I was jealous, and it made me feel so awful because Anton’s such a good person. But every time I saw you with someone else, I just… I hated it. I hated that it wasn’t me. And that’s not fair to anyone, especially not to you.” Another tear slipped down as her voice cracked again. “You’re so stupid…”

Eunseok’s chest rose and fell in silence. The wind stirred the hem of her jacket, and the streetlamp buzzed faintly above—but none of that mattered. Not now. Realization dawned slowly in his eyes. And it hit him harder than he expected.

All those moments. All those little things.

The way she smiled around him. The way her eyes always found his across a room. The familiar comfort she carried, not just as a childhood friend—but something else. Something much deeper.

And now, she was standing here, unraveling in front of him—not because she was confused, but because she had finally figured it out. Without another word, Eunseok reached forward and pulled her into his arms. Y/n melted into the hug instantly, burying her face into his shoulder, hands clinging to the fabric of his coat. She was still crying, still overwhelmed, but she didn’t pull away.

He held her tightly, like he’d been waiting to do this for far too long.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I didn’t know. I should have… I should’ve seen it. I think some part of me always felt it too. I just didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

Her hands fisted tighter into his coat. “Idiot.” He smiled softly against her temple. “Yeah. I know.”

The wind swirled around them, but they stayed in place—wrapped up in a hug that held years of hidden feelings, tangled memories, and a quiet confession that finally broke through.

No more pretending. No more dancing around it. Just Y/n and Eunseok. And something that had been there all along

The park had grown even quieter. The nearby streetlamp cast a soft amber glow over the bench where Y/n and Eunseok now sat, her body curled into his side, her head resting on his chest.

Eunseok held her like she was something fragile, arms wrapped around her like a silent promise. His chin rested lightly atop her head, and though she was still sniffing, the sobs had slowed. Her tears, however, hadn’t stopped completely. They fell in silent trails along her cheeks, soaking into the front of his jacket as her breathing tried to steady itself.

The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear—it helped. Just enough to make her feel like the world wasn’t crashing down anymore. And then, almost too softly to catch, her voice came—muffled slightly against him: “I like you so much…”

Eunseok blinked, his breath caught in his throat. He looked down at her, his hand brushing gently against her back. The corners of his lips curved into a quiet, gentle smile. A real one. No teasing, no holding back. Just pure emotion—warm and sincere.

“I know,” he said softly, barely above a whisper. “I really like you too.”

They sat like that a while longer, letting the weight of those words settle between them, letting the years of unspoken affection, jealousy, confusion, and longing unravel quietly in the stillness of the night. Eventually, the time forced them to part. The temperature was dropping, and the hour was growing late.

Eunseok stood first and offered his hand, which Y/n took with a lingering grip. She didn’t want to let go, not yet. Not after how raw and real everything had just become. They walked in silence toward her house, his hand never leaving hers. Just before they reached her doorstep, Eunseok slowed to a stop.

Y/n turned to him, eyes soft, cheeks still damp from earlier. Without needing to say anything, he leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss on her temple. His lips lingered for a moment—just long enough to make her eyes flutter shut and her heart squeeze.

As he pulled back, she didn’t move. Her hand stayed in his, fingers curled gently, hesitant. He noticed it, of course. That little pause. That tiny flicker of her not wanting to let go just yet.

“I don’t want to let go,” she murmured, her voice laced with something quiet and aching. “But I know I have to…”

Eunseok didn’t reply. Instead, he reached out and wiped away the last tear that clung to her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“You’ll be okay,” he said gently. “We’ll be okay.”

She nodded slowly, eyes never leaving his. And with a heavy breath, she stepped back toward the door. Only once she disappeared safely inside did he finally turn and walk away—his own heart now thudding harder than it had all night.

But instead of heading straight to his house, Eunseok walked past it. Past the familiar streets of their neighborhood. Hands in his pockets, eyes clouded with something thoughtful—something unresolved.

He pulled out his phone, thumb hovering for just a second over Anton’s name in his messages before he typed:

"Hey. Can we meet? I think we need to talk."

The message sent with a soft whoosh.

And he kept walking. Not to run from anything. But to finally face something he knew had to be said.

— Anton’s house was dimly lit when Eunseok arrived. The porch light was on, casting a gentle yellow hue across the steps as Eunseok approached. His hands were shoved deep into his hoodie pocket, not from the cold, but to keep them from shaking.

He didn’t know exactly how this conversation would go. But he knew it had to happen. He rang the doorbell once. A few seconds later, Anton opened the door. He looked… normal. Comfortable, even. Sweatpants, loose t-shirt, and a slightly tired expression that lifted only a little when he saw who it was.

“Hey,” Anton greeted casually, stepping aside to let him in without needing to ask why he was here.

Eunseok gave him a small nod, stepping past the threshold.

They made their way to the living room. It was quiet, apart from the faint hum of music playing in the background from Anton’s phone, sitting face-down on the coffee table. Anton plopped onto the couch, motioning to the spot next to him.

“Sit. You want water or something?”

“I’m good,” Eunseok replied, taking the offered seat. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring ahead at nothing in particular. For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Then Eunseok broke the silence. “She told me tonight.”

Anton didn’t flinch. He looked down, nodding once, slowly.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I figured she would.”

Eunseok glanced sideways at him. “You okay?”

Anton chuckled under his breath—not bitterly, not angrily. Just… a little worn out. “Honestly? Yeah,” he answered, leaning back against the couch cushions. “I’m not gonna lie, it stung. But… it wasn’t exactly a shock.”

Eunseok sat up straighter, his voice quieter now. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, Anton. I didn’t even realize—”

“That you liked her?” Anton finished for him, giving him a sideways look. Eunseok hesitated. Then he nodded. “Yeah. Not like that. Not until… I thought I was losing her.”

Anton looked up at the ceiling for a moment, his expression unreadable. “She really tried, you know,” he said after a long pause. “To feel the same way I did. But I could always tell… there was a part of her that wasn’t mine. Not fully.”

Eunseok’s chest tightened.

“I thought I had time to get used to it,” Anton continued, his voice steady. “But today, when she told me the truth, it actually felt… good. That she was honest with me. That she trusted me with it.”

“I’m sorry, Anton,” Eunseok said sincerely. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Anton finally looked at him directly. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see it coming,” he admitted. “Every time she talked about you, every little thing… I saw it. I think you did too. You were just too close to realize it.”

Eunseok swallowed, something like guilt swirling low in his stomach. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know,” Anton said. “That’s why I’m not mad.”

The silence between them this time was less heavy. Less uncertain. There was something like understanding sitting in the middle of the room now. Maybe not quite peace, but mutual clarity. Then Anton cracked a small smile. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” Eunseok said quietly.

“Don’t screw it up. She deserves someone who sees her, really sees her—and knows what they have.”

Eunseok’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I know. I will.”

Anton nodded, slow and firm. “I believe you.”

They sat in silence again for a few minutes, this time more comfortable. Eventually, Eunseok stood up. “Thanks for this,” he said, his voice low but genuine. “For not… shutting me out.”

Anton gave a soft smile. “You’re a good guy, Eunseok. And… she’s always looked at you like you were her whole world. I was just lucky to be a part of it for a little while.”

That hit Eunseok deeper than he expected. He nodded once, almost like a bow of respect, before quietly heading toward the door. As it closed behind him, Anton let out a long, steady breath and leaned back into the couch. Some heartbreaks weren’t loud. Some didn’t come with yelling or regret.

Some just… ended with acceptance.

— The soft morning light slipped through the curtains, casting a pale glow across Y/n’s room. She was awake before her alarm, as usual, but today there was a quiet heaviness in her chest that made it impossible to stay still under the covers.

She sighed and swung her legs over the side of the bed, rubbing at the sleep still lingering in her eyes. Slowly, she made her way downstairs, careful not to wake anyone else.

In the kitchen, her mom was already bustling about, preparing breakfast with practiced ease. The aroma of coffee and toasted bread filled the room, warm and comforting. Y/n hesitated in the doorway for a moment before clearing her throat softly.

“Mom?”

Her mom turned with a gentle smile, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Good morning, sweetheart. You’re up early.”

Y/n nodded, biting her lip. “Can we talk? Like… really talk?”

Her mom’s expression softened, and she motioned to the chair at the small kitchen table. “Of course, honey. Sit down.”

Y/n took a seat, folding her hands in her lap as if to steady herself. “Last night,” she began, voice barely above a whisper, “I talked to Eunseok. I told him everything—about Anton, about how I’m feeling… and how it just wasn’t right with Anton, not because he’s not amazing, but because my heart... it’s with Eunseok.”

Her mom listened quietly, nodding encouragingly. “It was hard,” Y/n admitted, “telling Anton. He was so understanding, even though I know it must have hurt him. I cried a lot. But I needed to be honest—with myself, with him.” She paused, eyes drifting to the table as a fresh wave of emotion threatened to break free. Her mom reached out and gently squeezed her hand.

“You did the right thing, Y/n. Honesty is never easy, but it’s the only way to truly respect yourself and everyone involved.”

Her mom gave a small, understanding smile. “Love is complicated, darling. Sometimes it’s messy and confusing. What matters is that you’re true to your feelings, and that you communicate openly. You owe that to yourself and to them.”

Y/n nodded slowly, feeling a sense of relief wash over her for the first time in days. “Do you think Eunseok feels the same way?” her mom asked gently.

Y/n bit her lip again but nodded. “He does. Last night, when I told him, he… he wiped my tears and hugged me.”

Her mom’s eyes shimmered with pride and something like quiet hope. “Then maybe,” she said softly, “this is the beginning of something real for you. Just take it one step at a time, okay?”

Y/n smiled, the weight on her shoulders feeling a little lighter. “Okay, Mom. Thank you.”

They sat together in peaceful silence for a moment, the morning light growing brighter through the window — as if the day itself was offering a new beginning.

The late morning sun streamed gently through the living room windows, casting a warm glow over the soft couch where Y/n sat curled up with the remote in her hand. A lighthearted drama played on the TV, filling the quiet space with muffled voices and music. Her eyes weren’t fully on the screen, though; they wandered occasionally to the window, watching the branches sway in the breeze.

The familiar sound of the front door opening and closing drew her attention, and Eunseok stepped inside as usual. He smiled softly when he saw Y/n, settling beside her on the couch without hesitation.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice calm and steady.

“Hey,” she replied, turning her head toward him with a small smile.

From the kitchen, Y/n’s mom called out, “I’m heading out for groceries, Sion—grab your shoes!” She appeared by the doorway, guiding a sleepy Sion toward the front door. “I’ll be back by late afternoon. You two behave, alright?” Y/n waved while Eunseok gave a small nod, and soon the door clicked shut behind them, leaving the house peaceful and quiet once more.

Y/n sank deeper into the couch cushions, the silence wrapping around them comfortably. Eunseok’s gaze softened as he turned to face her.

“I talked with Anton last night,” he said quietly.

Y/n nodded, her fingers nervously twisting a corner of the blanket draped over her legs. “I got a text from him this morning too… He wants us to still be close—good friends. He said things don’t have to be awkward.”

Eunseok smiled faintly, relief flickering in his eyes. “Yeah, I felt the same. I think he really wants us all to be okay.”

The room settled into a comfortable stillness, punctuated only by the TV’s soundtrack. The scene shifted suddenly to something a little more intense—a romantic moment between the two lead characters. The soft sighs and whispered confessions from the screen filled the quiet room.

Eunseok cleared his throat, looking away with a slight cough as the scene grew more heated. Y/n’s cheeks flamed bright red, her eyes darting to Eunseok’s profile. She found herself imagining what it would be like if the scene wasn’t just fiction — if their closeness was as electric as what was playing on the screen. Her heart beat a little faster. Their eyes met, and the blush deepened on both their faces.

For a moment, neither spoke — caught in the shared warmth and sudden fluster. Then, quietly, they both chuckled, breaking the tension.

Eunseok reached over, his hand brushing gently against Y/n’s. Without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

Y/n’s breath hitched slightly, the sensation lingering like a warm promise.

“Guess that scene was a little too real for us,” Eunseok joked softly, his voice low and tender.

Y/n smiled, her fingers curling around his hand. “Yeah… maybe we should change the channel.”

They laughed together, the room feeling lighter, their bond stronger than ever — two hearts quietly weaving together in the comforting space of home.

Y/n quickly grabbed the remote and switched the channel, flicking through until a light, cheerful variety show appeared on the screen. The colorful set and lively chatter created a playful atmosphere, far from the intense scene that had left them both flustered moments ago.

She turned her face toward Eunseok with a small smile, ready to ask if this was better, but before the words could leave her lips, she felt his warmth draw closer. Time seemed to slow as Eunseok gently pressed his lips against hers.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, like a whispered question — delicate and full of unspoken feelings. Y/n’s eyes fluttered shut, her heart pounding in her chest as her hand instinctively found his.

The noise from the TV faded into the background as the world narrowed to just the two of them, the couch beneath them, and the quiet intimacy they shared.

When they finally pulled apart, Eunseok rested his forehead lightly against hers, both of them breathing a little faster, cheeks flushed.

“Better channel?” Y/n whispered, her voice barely audible.

Eunseok smiled, his eyes sparkling with warmth and something deeper. “Definitely better.”

They settled back into the couch, hands intertwined, feeling more connected than ever — the kind of moment where words weren’t needed, only the comfort of being close.

— The soft light settled on Y/n and Eunseok, who were nestled closely on the couch, shoulders touching, breaths slowing in the calm after weeks of confusion and uncertainty. Outside, the quiet murmur of the neighborhood—birds chirping, distant laughter of children—added a serene soundtrack to the moment.

Y/n leaned her head on Eunseok’s shoulder, her fingers absently tracing small, lazy circles on his arm. The weight of everything that had happened in the last few weeks—the tangled feelings, the painful truths, the awkward moments—felt lighter somehow, as if the air between them had finally settled.

“It’s been… a crazy few weeks,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, the corners of her lips curling up in a gentle smile.

Eunseok nodded, his gaze drifting toward the window for a moment before returning to her. “Yeah,” he agreed. “But I’m really glad it all happened. I mean, even the hard parts. Because without it, we wouldn’t be here right now as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

Y/n looked up, meeting his eyes. There was something quiet and sincere in his expression that made her heart flutter. “Me too,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Before, I was so confused. About what I wanted, who I was supposed to be with. But now… with you, everything feels more clear.”

He smiled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “I want us to be real. Honest, no pretending or hiding anymore. Just us.”

Y/n’s chest warmed with affection. She felt safe here, like she could finally breathe without the weight of expectations pressing down on her. “I think this is just the beginning,” she whispered, eyes bright with hope. “Of something good. Something worth fighting for.”

They sat together in comfortable silence, each savoring the peaceful moment—the kind of quiet that only comes when two people have been through storms and come out the other side stronger. After a pause, Eunseok’s voice broke the stillness, soft but certain. “Whatever happens next, I want you to know I’m here. For you. For us. No matter what.” Y/n smiled, resting her head back on his shoulder. “Together,” she echoed.

He tightened his hold on her hand, as if sealing a silent promise.

The sun began to dip lower, spilling streaks of pink and orange across the sky. The world outside faded into a gentle twilight, but inside the room, their shared warmth filled every corner.

For the first time in a long while, Y/n felt completely at peace. Not because everything was perfect, but because she had found someone who saw her, understood her, and wanted to walk forward with her.

And that was enough.

Epilogue: A New Beginning

The soft chime of the café door announced their arrival as Y/n and Eunseok stepped inside, brushing off the gentle spring breeze. The familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries wrapped around them like a comforting hug.

They found their usual corner by the window, sunlight streaming in and casting golden patches across the table. Y/n smiled, pulling her light cardigan tighter around her as Eunseok settled opposite her, already pulling out two steaming cups of coffee.

“Remember when we used to hang out at your place after school? Just figuring everything out?” Eunseok said with a playful grin.

Y/n laughed, a soft, genuine sound. “Feels like a lifetime ago. And yet, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Eunseok reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers. “Neither would I.”

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with warmth. “So, what do you think the future holds for us?”

He gave a thoughtful pause before replying, “I think it holds a lot of ‘us’ moments. More laughter, more challenges, but always together.”

Y/n’s heart fluttered. “Together sounds perfect.” The bell over the door jingled as another customer entered, but their world seemed to shrink to just the two of them.

Eunseok smiled softly. “You know, I’m still kind of surprised how everything turned out. From best friends to… well, this.”

Y/n squeezed his hand gently. “Sometimes the best things come when you least expect them.”

He nodded, eyes never leaving hers. “I’m glad I found you.”

She leaned across the table, closing the small distance between them for a tender kiss—light, sweet, and full of promise. As they pulled away, both knew this was just the start of something beautiful—something real, something theirs. Outside, the world moved on, but inside that little café, time seemed to pause—holding space for two hearts finally beating in sync.

Word count: 24.1K Part 1. - Part 2. - Part 3.

[buff-bambiii]

My bestfriend chapter3 when ?

when i have more free time! Soon tho!! <3

[buff-bambiii]

My bestfriend pt3 plz 🥺

When i have the proper time for it! Still proofreading and making sure i don't have any typos

[buff-bambiii]

Afterlight.

Summary: When Kim Minjeong moves into a strangely affordable apartment after being kicked out of her parents’ house, she expects a fresh start. What she doesn’t expect is when objects starting to move. Things being misplaced. But as fear gives way to curiosity, Minjeong finds herself drawn to the presence that lingers—one that might be watching… Genre: Paranormal Romance : A slow-burn paranormal romance wrapped in the stillness of grief, memory, and the quiet mystery of a ghost who never left. Warning(s): Mentions of death. (Reader played as Kim Minjeong) x Jung Sungchan

Kim Minjeong didn’t know what hurt more the way her mother had screamed at her to leave, or the silence that followed when she actually did.

It had been three weeks since the night her parents had tossed her out without a clear reason. No dramatic betrayal, no reckless mistakes. Just a sudden, inexplicable shift in their tolerance for her presence. She tried not to think about it too much. Not about the hurt in her mother’s eyes, or the way her father had refused to even meet her gaze. She had packed two bags and left before her pride could catch up to her heartbreak.

Thankfully, Ningning had been there. With no hesitation and a worried expression, her friend had pulled her into the safety of her tiny one bedroom apartment, handing her a pillow and a blanket without question. It was cramped and Minjeong had to sleep on a worn out couch surrounded by scattered textbooks and takeout containers, but it was something. More than her own parents had offered her.

Now, sitting behind the counter at the café where she worked, Minjeong sipped lukewarm coffee and tried to force her mind to stay present.

“eonnie,” a voice chimed from behind her. Minjeong turned to see Ningning bouncing up with her phone in hand, cheeks flushed with excitement. “I found you a place.”

Minjeong blinked. “A place?”

“An apartment,” Ningning nodded eagerly, sliding her phone across the counter.

Minjeong stared at the listing: one-bedroom, fully furnished, located just two bus stops away from the café. Photos showed clean white walls, wooden floors, a compact but modern kitchen, and a small balcony facing a tree lined street. Warm water. Electricity. A cozy bed already made with fresh sheets. The rent wasn’t cheap—but not outrageously high either. Just… surprisingly reasonable. Almost too good to be true.

“Did you already call them?” Karina asked, walking over with a towel in hand, her café apron dusted with flour.

“No, not yet,” Minjeong said. “I mean, this looks… kind of perfect?”

“Exactly,” Aeri chimed in from the espresso machine. “Which means you should definitely go see it before someone else snatches it.”

Minjeong hesitated. A part of her was already imagining the silence of her own space, a clean bed, the scent of her favorite candles. No more apologizing for being in the way. No more sleeping under someone else's roof, no matter how kind they were.

She took out her phone. “I’ll call the landlord.”

By lunchtime, Minjeong was standing at the bus stop with her canvas tote bag slung over her shoulder, heart beating fast as she double checked the address on her phone. The bus ride was short just two stops like Ningning said. When she got off, the building loomed before her, surprisingly well-kept for an older structure. Pale beige bricks, a narrow staircase leading up to the main door, and small flower beds that looked recently watered.

The landlord was waiting for her near the entrance—a middle-aged man in a pressed shirt and worn slacks. He greeted her with a polite nod.

“Miss Kim?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Come, I’ll show you the unit. Second floor.”

They climbed the stairs together. The hallway was quiet, dimly lit, with wooden doors spaced evenly apart. The landlord stopped in front of a door marked 23, keys jingling in his hand.

“This way.”

The moment the door creaked open, Minjeong stepped into a space that felt... still. Like it had been waiting.

The apartment was exactly as pictured. Wooden floors, clean countertops, soft yellow light filtering through the gauzy curtains. A faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, probably from a diffuser or candle left behind. The furniture was simple but tasteful a couch, a coffee table, a bed in the corner with a blanket folded neatly at the end. The window was open slightly, letting in the breeze.

“It’s all included,” the landlord said, walking around. “Utilities too. You just pay monthly. No long contracts unless you want one.”

Minjeong’s chest fluttered. “It’s… lovely.”

The landlord smiled. “If you’re interested, I have the paperwork downstairs. I’ll go get it. You can wait here or come with me.”

“I’ll wait here.”

He nodded and left, Minjeong stood quietly in the entryway, looking around again. She could already picture where she’d put her books, the corner where her guitar could sit. She walked a few steps forward to admire the light pouring through the window and that’s when the door across the hall creaked open.

She turned.

A tall man stepped out from apartment 25. He looked to be in his late twenties, dark hair tousled, dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants. Around 184cm, she guessed. His expression was calm, but there was something unreadable behind his eyes.

“You lost?” he asked.

Minjeong blinked. “No, I’m… I’m moving in. Apartment 23.”

He paused. His brow furrowed slightly. “You’re the fourth one.”

“…Sorry?”

He leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. “Fourth person to move into that unit in the last four or five months.”

Minjeong’s stomach twisted. “What happened to the others?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t stay long.”

Before she could ask more, a soft thud echoed from inside the apartment behind her. She turned sharply. A book lay on the floor, a few feet away from where it had been sitting neatly on a shelf. The window was still open.

Maybe the wind, she thought. But the air wasn’t that strong. When she looked back, the guy across the hall was still watching her. “Good luck,” he said, and without another word, slipped back inside and closed his door. Minjeong stood frozen for a second, unease prickling down her spine.

The landlord returned moments later, holding a manila folder. “All ready. If you’d like, you can move in tomorrow.”

She hesitated. But only for a second.

“Yes,” she said. “I’d like that.”

— Minjeong didn’t sleep well the night before the move not out of fear, but anticipation.

By the time morning broke, she was already dressed and double checking her small collection of belongings. Two bags, a few clothes. her guitar, notebooks, some art supplies and her favorite mug wrapped in a sweater. She didn’t have much, which made it easy to pack but hard to feel proud of.

Still, today wasn’t about what she lacked. Today was about a new beginning. Karina arrived first in her beat up hatchback, music thumping low through the speakers. She pulled into the alley near Ningning’s apartment with her sunglasses on and a wide grin.

“Ready for Day One of Minjeong’s main character arc?” she teased.

Minjeong rolled her eyes but smiled. “Help me carry my trauma and my tote bag?”

Aeri and Ningning followed shortly after, lugging groceries, snacks, and a housewarming plant that Ningning insisted would “clear bad vibes.”

“I read online that peace lilies are good for ghosts,” she chirped. “Or was it money luck? Either way, it’s cute.”

Minjeong didn't comment, but tucked that thought into the back of her mind. The four of them arrived at the building by early afternoon. The sun was high and bright, casting a golden hue over the quiet residential street. Birds chirped. The occasional car rolled by. The apartment looked even more peaceful in daylight. They climbed the stairs together, joking between breaths and carrying bags like it was some group mission. As they reached the second floor, Minjeong noticed that the door to Apartment 25 remained closed. No sign of the guy from yesterday.

Minjeong unlocked the door to her new home. And just like the first time, the space felt still. Not cold or uninviting just quiet in a way that suggested something was listening. Karina whistled as she stepped in. “Damn, this is nice. I expected something creepier for this price.”

“Same,” Aeri added, placing a bag on the kitchen counter. “Feels a little too quiet, though. Like a hotel room that hasn’t had guests in a while.”

Ningning drifted toward the window, pulling back the curtain. “The street’s cute. I like the tree. Very main-character-core.” Minjeong tried to laugh, but her focus drifted to the bookshelf. The book that had fallen yesterday was back in place. Maybe the landlord fixed it, she reasoned. Still, something about how neatly it sat made her stomach flutter.

By evening, the apartment looked lived in just barely. Groceries in the fridge. Minjeong’s art supplies in the corner. The peace lily on the windowsill. Her friends stayed for dinner, cooking together and sitting cross legged on the floor as they shared fried rice straight from the pan. They laughed about old memories, retold high school drama like it was fresh gossip, and toasted with canned soda.

For a while, it felt normal. When the sun dipped and the shadows stretched across the walls, Karina was the first to stand.

“We should go,” she said softly. “Let her get used to the place.”

“You’ll be fine, right?” Ningning asked, packing up the leftovers. “We can sleep over if you want.”

“No, it’s okay.” Minjeong smiled, grateful. “I think… I want to try being here on my own.”

The silence after they left was immediate. No chatter, no footsteps. Just the hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of the old wooden floor. Minjeong walked through the apartment slowly, turning off extra lights and checking the windows. She paused by the bookshelf again. Her fingers hovered over the spine of the book that had fallen yesterday. A novel—“Winter’s Memory”. A story about a woman haunted by a lover who died at sea. She gently placed it face-down on the coffee table, then turned away.

Later, curled up in bed with the lamp on, Minjeong tried to focus on her phone. She scrolled, texted the group chat, watched videos. But she couldn’t shake the sense that something wasn’t right.

A soft tapping sound echoed from the kitchen.

Tap. …Tap. ……Tap.

She froze.

It was probably the pipes, she told herself. Or the fridge clicking. Buildings made noises. It was fine.

Minjeong stood up and padded to the kitchen. Nothing was out of place—except the peace lily. It had shifted just slightly. Turned a few degrees, like someone had nudged it to face the inside of the room. She stared. After a long pause, she turned it back to face the window.

She didn’t sleep much. Her dreams were hazy and colorless, like fog on the edges of her mind. She dreamed of water dripping slowly onto a hardwood floor. Of books whispering when no one touched them. Of a man’s silhouette standing by the window, looking out.

The morning light poured softly through the sheer curtains, painting long golden lines across the wooden floor. Minjeong stirred in bed, eyes fluttering open slowly. Her body ached—not painfully, but in that strange way that happens after a restless night, when dreams felt heavier than reality. She sat up, rubbing the back of her neck. The room was still. Quiet. With a yawn, she shuffled toward the kitchen, instinctively reaching for the coffee canister on the top shelf of the cupboard only to pause.

The lid was off. She blinked. She never left the lid off.

Minjeong stared for a moment, then replaced it and shook her head. Probably just forgot. Her brain had been foggy since last night, and she hadn’t exactly been in her usual rhythm. New space, new habits. No big deal. She turned around to grab a mug—and stopped again. The mug she’d placed on the counter the night before wasn’t there. Instead, it sat on the small table near the window. She frowned.

Did I move it?

Maybe while she was on her phone or maybe she'd wanted to look out the window and forgot she carried it over. She had scrolled through videos late into the night maybe her muscle memory had filled in the blanks. Minjeong picked up the mug and laughed under her breath. “Get it together,” she muttered.

She took a long sip of coffee, letting the warmth push away the chill that had crept into her bones. The apartment was lovely in the daylight. Soft, cozy. The kind of stillness that should’ve felt peaceful. But the silence today felt a little too deep. Like the air was listening again.

The walk to work was a welcome distraction. The sky was clear, and the buzz of city life wrapped around her like a blanket. Familiar noise. Familiar faces. When she entered the café through the back door, Karina was already humming something as she wiped down the counter.

“Hey, it’s the homeowner!” she teased, waving a rag in Minjeong’s direction. “How was your first night?”

Aeri popped up from behind the espresso machine. “Ooooh yes, tell us everything.”

Minjeong rolled her eyes, setting her bag in the back room. “I slept like crap, but the place is nice.”

“See?” Ningning chimed in from the front, where she was arranging pastries. “First-night anxiety. Totally normal. Your body’s just adjusting.”

Minjeong nodded, leaning against the wall as she tied her apron. “Yeah. Probably. The silence is a little… weird. But it’s a good kind of weird.”

“You mean peaceful,” Karina offered.

“Exactly.”

She didn’t mention the mug or the cupboard. Or the fact that the book had moved again when she woke up this morning only slightly, just enough to make her pause. She didn’t want to sound paranoid. It was just… odd.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of coffee orders and chatter. Minjeong kept busy, grateful for the rhythm of work. But every now and then, her mind drifted back to the apartment. To the way the shadows pooled in the corners. To how her phone screen had gone black last night for no reason, only to return to life as if nothing had happened.

When she returned home after her shift, the air in the apartment felt different. Cooler, as if someone had opened a window, though she knew she hadn’t.

She walked in slowly, setting her keys in the small dish by the door. She noticed it immediately.

Her shoes.

They were lined up neatly against the wall but facing the opposite direction from how she’d placed them that morning. Her left shoe was usually slightly ahead of the right. Now the right one was perfectly centered.

She crouched down, staring at them for a long moment. Maybe I bumped into them this morning, she thought. Maybe they shifted when I grabbed my bag.

Still, her fingers felt cold.

She stood up and moved toward the bookshelf again. The same book—Winter’s Memory—was pulled slightly forward from the rest.

She hadn’t touched it.

Her eyes trailed to the spine, then to the small layer of dust around it. No fingerprints. No signs of disturbance. Just the book itself, like it wanted to be noticed.

Minjeong stepped back. Then, almost defiantly, she picked it up and placed it inside a drawer. When she shut the drawer, it made a soft click like the room sighed.

Later that night, she sat curled up on the couch with her phone, texting the group chat. A picture of her dinner, a meme, a reply to Ningning’s voice message. Normal things.

The room was quiet again. She caught herself glancing at the closed drawer more than once. But nothing moved. Nothing made a sound.

By the time she got ready for bed, Minjeong felt herself relax. Maybe she’d just been sleep-deprived. Overthinking.

She reached to turn off the lamp—then paused.

Her phone, which had been on the nightstand, now sat perfectly centered on her pillow.

She stared at it, heartbeat thumping quietly in her chest.

She hadn’t put it there.

Minjeong slowly picked it up.

The screen was on.

And in the search bar was a single word, typed out without her touching it:

“Hello.”

— Minjeong didn’t sleep that night, not after what she saw. She stared at her phone for hours, screen glowing cold in her hands, the word “Hello” sitting innocently in the search bar like it hadn’t just rearranged the rhythm of her heartbeat. She’d checked her messages, her apps, her history nothing. No one had touched it. No hidden typing assistant. No weird background process. No updates.

Just… that word.

She deleted it. Locked the phone. Placed it on her nightstand and turned off the light.

Then she turned the light back on. And left it that way until dawn.

The next morning, Minjeong was sluggish at work, the telltale signs of sleeplessness stitched beneath her eyes. Karina noticed immediately, nudging her lightly as they brewed a new pot of coffee.

“Don’t tell me you pulled an all-nighter,” she said, handing her a warm cup. “You look like you fought a ghost and lost.”

Minjeong chuckled dryly. “Yeah, well. Didn’t sleep well.”

“Still adjusting?” Aeri asked from behind, pouring steamed milk into a cup with practiced ease.

Minjeong hesitated. “Yeah. Maybe the silence is getting to me.”

“It’s just your brain being weird in a new environment,” Ningning added, strolling in from her break. “Seriously. When I first moved out, I thought my closet door was opening by itself for weeks. Turned out I was just not closing it properly.”

“Right.” Minjeong smiled faintly, though the warmth didn’t quite reach her eyes. Because her closet door had been closed. She remembered twisting the handle herself. And yet when she woke up, it had been cracked open just slightly.

That evening, she returned home as the sky was slipping into twilight, the city wrapped in a warm glow, quiet but not quite still. The kind of hush that came just before something changed.

She paused outside her apartment door for a moment longer than usual, fingers tightening around her keys. She looked across the hall—Apartment 25. No sign of the tall man she’d seen the day she moved in. No footsteps, no sounds, no sign of life.

Her own door creaked open easily. Inside, everything was just as she’d left it or so she thought. She took her shoes off, set down her bag, and stepped into the living room. The drawer she had placed the book in was open. Just slightly. Not enough to be obvious. But enough that the darkness inside peered out at her like an eye half-lidded in sleep.

Her heart thudded. She took slow, careful steps toward it, crouching.

Inside, Winter’s Memory lay exactly where she’d placed it.

But something was wrong.

It was open now. Pages parted near the middle, spine slightly stretched. As if someone had been reading it.

Minjeong reached in and picked it up, slowly flipping to the opened page.

There was a passage highlighted in faded pencil:

"Some things remain after the body leaves. Not just echoes. Not just fragments. The ones who wait, they stay because they choose to."

A chill crawled down her arms.

She hadn’t highlighted anything. And the book didn’t belong to her—it came with the apartment.

She placed it gently on the table and stood back.

That night, Minjeong lit a candle—one of her favorites, lavender and vanilla—and settled onto the couch with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The book stayed on the table, unopened now, but heavy in the air like an unspoken question. The silence was familiar now. Too familiar. But instead of fear, Minjeong felt… curious. She set her phone on the table, screen facing up, then glanced at the room. “Is someone here?” she asked softly. No sound, just the candle flame flickering gently.

“I don’t want to be scared,” she continued, voice barely above a whisper. “But I need to know if I’m alone.”

A pause.

A soft click.

She turned sharply. The light above the sink in the kitchen had turned on. Her heart pounded, breath catching—but not in panic. She rose slowly, walking toward it. The switch was up, as if someone had flicked it deliberately. She stood in the doorway for a long moment, then looked back at the living room. The book was gone from the table, she didn’t even hear it move. It now rested back on the shelf. Same spot. Same neat alignment. Spine facing perfectly outward.

Minjeong swallowed. She didn’t know what frightened her more the fact that something was clearly happening… or the sense that it wasn’t trying to hurt her. It was like living with someone invisible. Someone polite, someone… lonely.

The next day was quiet. Unsettlingly so, no moved objects, no flickering lights, no books traveling from shelf to table. She almost felt disappointed. Almost.

But that evening, something changed.

As she was brushing her teeth in the dim light of the bathroom, steam curling from the shower she’d just finished, she heard a sound—like humming.

Soft. Male. Barely audible over the hum of the building. She turned off the faucet and froze. It continued for a few seconds more… then stopped.

She opened the door slowly, stepping barefoot into the hallway, heart in her throat. Her apartment was dimly lit by a small lamp in the corner. Shadows stretched across the walls like reaching arms.

“Hello?” she called out, voice shaking.

The silence after her voice faded was thick. But then— A whisper. Right behind her ear, warm against her skin: “You’re not alone.” She spun, but nothing. Her phone, back on her nightstand, lit up again. A new note file had been opened.

On it: a sentence.

Thank you for not being afraid of me.

That night, Minjeong stood by her bedroom window for a long time, watching the stillness outside. The city was unusually quiet. No cars. No dogs barking. Even the breeze barely stirred.

The apartment felt calmer today. But not empty. She could feel it again—that invisible thread in the air. A gentle awareness. As if someone was sitting just outside the edge of her vision, waiting patiently.

She didn’t speak to it tonight. She wasn’t sure what to say. Instead, she turned off the lamp, crawled into bed, and closed her eyes. And almost immediately— She dreamed.

The dream was tinted in blue. Not cold—but muted, like dusk caught between waking and sleeping. The apartment looked the same, yet different. The walls shimmered faintly. The light didn’t come from the windows but from somewhere above, soft and ambient, like moonlight filtered through deep water.

Minjeong stood barefoot in the hallway. Her breath fogged in the air. At the end of the hall stood a figure. Faint. Shadowed. Almost formless. A man. Tall, shoulders slightly slouched. His head tilted, like he was observing her carefully, quietly. She should’ve felt fear. But instead, all she felt was— Lonely.

Like something inside her recognized him, even if she couldn’t see his face. As if a part of her had been waiting to meet him, without ever knowing it. “Who are you?” she whispered. The figure didn’t answer. But she saw it—just for a second—the faint movement of his hand lifting, fingers twitching in the air like he was trying to reach her. Before he could, the dream dissolved. She woke with her heart racing, eyes wide, breath caught somewhere between waking and whatever that had been.

— At work, Minjeong was quieter than usual. Not withdrawn—just somewhere else. Her friends noticed, but no one pushed. It wasn’t until the café was winding down for the evening that Ningning nudged her, mischief in her eyes. “Hey,” she said, “You doing anything after this?”

Minjeong blinked. “No, why?”

“Good. Let’s walk home together. I need some fresh air and maybe you do too.” Minjeong smiled faintly. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

The sun had already dipped behind the skyline by the time they reached her building. The street was bathed in deep orange, fading into pale gray. The kind of light that made everything feel like a painting—still, and just a little unreal. Ningning was mid-story about a customer who tried to pay with three expired coupons when they reached the landing on the second floor. Minjeong was laughing, head tilted back, when she heard the click of a door opening.

Apartment 25. She turned just as the man from her first day stepped out. He looked surprised to see her. Not startled—just genuinely taken aback. His brows lifted slightly, eyes flicking from her face to the door of Apartment 23, then back to her.

“You’re still here,” he said, voice low and steady.

Minjeong tilted her head. “I moved in a few days ago.”

“I know. It’s just…” He trailed off for a second. “Most don’t stay.”

Ningning stepped in smoothly, raising an eyebrow. “That supposed to be some kind of warning?” The man blinked, like he hadn’t even realized someone was with her. Then, quickly, he shook his head. “No. Just… surprised.”

He offered a hand to Minjeong. “Lee Chanyoung. I live across the hall.”

She hesitated only a beat before taking his hand. His grip was warm, steady. “Kim Minjeong.” He nodded once, glancing toward her door again. But this time, he didn’t look away immediately. His gaze lingered. As if he was trying to see something on the other side. Or remember something. Then he caught himself, blinked, and turned back to her.

“Well. Welcome to the building.”

And with that, he stepped back into Apartment 25, closing the door behind him. The latch clicked. Ningning waited two seconds. Then whispered: “He’s kind of cute.” Minjeong stared at the door across from hers, expression unreadable.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “He is.”

But in her mind, the dream returned. The silhouette. The hand reaching. And in her chest, that strange sensation again.

A warmth. A pull.

Like something—someone—was trying to get closer

Ningning left after an hour or so, arms full of leftover pastries she insisted would “ward off any bad vibes.” She still had no idea about the dreams. The noises. The shifting things.

And Minjeong wanted to keep it that way—for now.

She waved her friend off with a soft smile, and the moment Ningning disappeared down the stairs, the hallway fell into silence. The soft hum of a distant streetlight was the only sound that followed Minjeong back into her apartment. She closed the door behind her.

Locked it. Turned the bolt slowly, like sealing herself into something sacred. The apartment was quiet. Not empty—never empty. But still.

Minjeong walked through the space slowly, her bare feet silent against the warm wooden floors. The lamp in the corner glowed with a soft amber light, casting long shadows against the walls. Shadows that never quite stayed still when she wasn’t looking. She set her things down, stood in the middle of the room, and exhaled.

She could feel it. Not fear, not dread. But that… presence. Subtle. Close. Like someone was standing just behind her, always a breath away.

She sat down on the floor in front of the coffee table and pulled her phone out. A moment’s hesitation—then she opened the voice recording app and hit “Record.”

She stared at the screen, her voice quiet, steady.

“Hi,” she said. “I don’t know if you can hear this, but… I think you’ve been trying to talk to me.” Silence.

The app’s waveform danced gently at the sound of her voice, then fell still. “I’m not scared of you,” she continued. “At least… I don’t think I am. You don’t feel dangerous. You just feel… lonely.” She paused and bit her bottom lip. “I saw you. In a dream. I think it was you. Tall. Watching me. Not with malice. Just… watching.”

The silence stretched around her like soft fabric.

“I don’t know what you want. Or why you’re here. But if you need something, I’m willing to listen. I think maybe…”

Another pause.

“…maybe you’ve been here a long time.”

She ended the recording and played it back immediately. Her voice sounded too small in the room, echoing slightly over the speakers. She heard everything she said. All of it. Until the very end. Right before the file cut off—barely a second—there was something else.

A faint sound. Soft. Like a whisper wrapped in wind. She held the phone close and replayed the last few seconds. Right after her words—“you’ve been here a long time”—she heard it again.

A single word, impossible to mistake: “…Yes.”

She dropped the phone. It bounced once on the floor and skidded to a stop. Her breath caught in her throat, and she stared at it as if it might move again on its own. But nothing else came. No flickering lights. No footsteps. No shadows crawling across the ceiling. Just her own heartbeat and the very quiet sense that she wasn’t alone. She reached slowly for the phone and opened the Notes app. Maybe it was easier this way. She typed: "Are you the one who moved the book?" She left the screen unlocked and set it gently on the table.

Then she waited. The minutes passed like molasses. The candle she lit earlier flickered softly, its scent curling into the air lavender, calming, grounding.

And then— The phone’s keyboard clicked once. Her breath hitched as she looked down. A single word had been typed beneath her question:

"Yes."

She blinked. Then typed back. "Why?"

For a long time, nothing happened. But when she turned away—just for a moment, just to rub her eyes—the phone clicked again.

And the answer appeared:

"You read it when you needed to."

Minjeong’s chest tightened. The dream. The passage. The strange feeling that someone was guiding her without saying a word.

Her fingers hovered above the keyboard now. "Have you always been here?"

"Longer than you think."

"Are you… human?"

The pause was longer this time. She nearly gave up waiting.

Then came the reply: "I was."

A chill worked its way down her spine. She stood slowly, wrapping her cardigan around her tighter. Her eyes scanned the room, her own apartment now filled with a silence so full it could be mistaken for company. She walked toward the bedroom, her phone still in hand.

Before she turned off the light, she typed one last question:

"Do you have a name?"

No reply.

She waited. Her thumb hovered over the power button. Still nothing. Finally, she sighed, let herself relax, and turned off the screen. She turned toward the bed and froze. On her pillow, something lay that hadn’t been there a moment ago. A small, dried white flower. Fragile. Carefully placed.

Minjeong stared. She didn’t scream. Didn’t run.

She simply picked it up.

Turned it over in her palm.

And smiled.

That night, she dreamed again.

The same blue light.

The same quiet air.

The silhouette stood closer this time.

Not quite touching—but not far.

This time, when she whispered into the dream, “Who are you?” she saw it tilt its head.

And for the first time, it stepped forward.

The closer he came, the clearer he became.

And though his features remained soft, shifting, barely lit—she saw something familiar in his face.

Something gentle.

Something waiting.

For the rest of the night, Minjeong couldn’t stop thinking about the flower. It had felt real too real. Dry, delicate petals folded inward like they’d been pressed between pages. She'd left it on her nightstand, nestled gently in a dish where she usually kept rings and hair ties, as though preserving it made this moment matter more. She didn't dream after that. Or, at least, she didn’t remember it.

By late afternoon the next day, something inside her had shifted.

It wasn’t just curiosity anymore—it was need. A quiet tug in her chest that kept growing heavier. The soft exchanges with the presence had stirred something tender in her, but also left her with questions that now hung like invisible threads, waiting to be pulled.

Why was he still here? Who was he? Why had the others left?

The coffee shop was slow that day, the buzz of customers nothing more than background noise. Minjeong’s hands moved through the motions—brewing, wiping, pouring—but her mind was already somewhere else. Her thoughts kept circling back to the man across the hall. Lee Chanyoung. His surprise at seeing her still living in the apartment. The way his eyes had lingered on her door a little too long, like he knew something. Did he know? Was that why others had left?

Did he tell them?

By the time she returned home that evening, she had made up her mind. Minjeong kicked off her shoes, changed into a hoodie and sweatpants, pulled her hair into a loose bun, and opened her laptop. She sat cross legged on the floor, the soft light of her standing lamp casting a warm glow over the room. The presence was quiet tonight. Not gone. She could feel it.

“Alright,” she whispered, fingers poised over the keyboard. “Let’s see what you’re not telling me.”

She typed:

“History of apartment building [address] Seoul”

At first, the results were useless. Rental listings. Vague blogs about haunted buildings with clickbait titles and no substance. Forum posts too general to mean anything. But then, on the second page of results, she found a link. A quiet article on a forgotten local news archive.

"Young Man Found Dead in Local Apartment Unit; Cause Remains Undetermined." Her breath caught. She clicked.

The article was short—no photos, just text. Written a year ago. The building address matched. Second floor. Apartment 23.

Authorities were called to the scene by a neighbor who claimed to hear a loud crash, followed by silence. Upon entering the apartment, they found the body of Jung Sungchan, 23, seated near the living room window. No signs of violence, no substances in his system. Cause of death remains undetermined. Police closed the case citing no evidence of foul play.

She read the name again. Jung Sungchan. And just as she whispered it under her breath— The temperature dropped. She froze. It wasn’t the heater. It wasn’t the window. It was something else entirely. Then she felt it—that subtle change in the air. A weight. A presence.

And that’s when she saw him. Sitting next to her. Her breath hitched. He hadn’t appeared with drama or ghostly flair. He was just... there. As if he’d been beside her all along. He looked nothing like the hazy silhouette from her dreams.

Now, he had form. Definition.

A young man, around her age. Dark brown hair, a little messy, falling into soft waves above his brows. Pale skin. Long fingers resting casually on the floor. A hoodie that looked worn and comfortable. His eyes were focused on her laptop screen, scanning the article just as she had—until, slowly, he turned his head.

And their eyes met.

For a second, everything stopped. The light. The sound. Her breath. His eyes widened. Not in fear—but in surprise. A jolt of disbelief. He looked behind him, as if expecting someone else to be standing there, then back to her. His voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper—fragile, stunned, and quietly vulnerable: “You can see me?”

Minjeong didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

He stared at her, mouth parted slightly, as if waiting for confirmation. His eyes were so human—warm, wide, unsure. Not some distant spectral stare. Not empty.

Just a young man who seemed completely unprepared to be seen.

“Yes,” she finally said.

One word. His shoulders slumped slightly, like he’d been holding tension for years and someone had finally lifted it.

Sungchan. The name felt familiar now. Heavy with meaning. Minjeong wanted to say more. A thousand questions pressed against her lips. But her voice was caught somewhere between wonder and disbelief. They stared at each other. He didn’t flicker. Didn’t vanish. He just sat there, blinking, like a person trying to remember how to exist.

Then, after a long, stretched silence, he smiled. Not wide. Not confident. Just a soft, uncertain curve of his lips. “Finally,” he whispered. And then— He was gone.

Not violently. Not suddenly. Just faded—like light slipping out of a room.

Minjeong sat frozen in place, heart pounding, she blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. The room was exactly as it had been. The soft hum of the laptop. The candle still burning, its light steady. Had she imagined it?

No.

She pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart was still pounding. Not from fear, but from the startling certainty of presence.

Sungchan.

Not just a name in an old article. He had been sitting right beside her. The weight of it sank in all at once. He’s here. I’m not imagining any of this. I’m not alone. She glanced at the screen again. The article sat open, quiet and unassuming, like it hadn’t just confirmed that a ghost—his ghost—lived in this space with her. A young man. Found dead in this very apartment. Without cause. Without closure.

Minjeong leaned closer to the screen, scrolling further down, her hands trembling slightly. The article itself was bare—just the facts. But below it, the comments section was still active, despite being a a year old. A quiet thread of conversation had unfolded between anonymous users.

One caught her eye:

"I used to live in the building. I remember him. Quiet guy. Nice. Died too young. The guy in 25 knows more than he says. He’s lived there forever."

Her breath caught. The guy in 25. Chanyoung.

Minjeong sat back, the realization threading through her slowly like cold water down her spine. He knew. Of course he did. His reaction when they first met the way he’d said she was the fourth tenant to move into the apartment in the span of a few months. The quiet way he looked at her door, like it held a secret. He’d seen something.

Maybe even someone. And he hadn’t told her. Why? She sat there for a while, unmoving. The atmosphere in the apartment had shifted again. Not heavier just more aware. Like Sungchan was watching. But not in a threatening way.

Minjeong found herself whispering, not to her laptop this time, but to the room. “Why did you choose me?”

No answer. Not in words. But her eyes drifted to the corner of the room, where the bookshelf stood. One book, ever so slightly, was pulled forward. Not Winter’s Memory this time. A different one. One she didn’t remember seeing before. She rose slowly and walked over, fingers brushing against the spine. It was an old poetry book. Well-worn. When she pulled it free, a folded paper fluttered out and landed at her feet.

She bent down, heart racing. It was a note. Handwritten in clean, slanted script. The ink slightly faded, but still legible.

"If someone finds this… I hope you’re kinder than the others."

Minjeong stared at the words for a long moment. Then she whispered, “I will be.” Later that night, she stood by the window, watching the street below. The city carried on like it always did quietly forgetting. People laughed, called cabs, walked dogs, lived lives. But here, in this apartment, someone had been left behind. Someone who had waited. She glanced toward her door.

Chanyoung was just across the hall. For a brief moment, Minjeong thought of going over. Knocking. Demanding answers.

But no. Not yet. Not until she knew more. For now, she returned to the laptop and opened a fresh search tab.

This time, she typed: "Jung Sungchan obituary" "Jung Sungchan family" "Jung Sungchan—apartment 23 neighbors"

She wanted to know everything. She owed it to him now.

— The next morning arrived quietly, as if the world itself understood that something had shifted inside Minjeong. The sun peeked through soft clouds, the city yawned into motion, and yet, she moved through her routine like sleepwalking. Toast she didn’t finish. A cup of coffee she left untouched. The laptop remained open on her desk, the search history still filled with pieces of Sungchan’s name.

Her eyes lingered on the pressed white flower in the dish by her bed.

He was real. He had a name. He had a story. And Chanyoung knew it.

The silence of the apartment had changed. It no longer pressed against her it lingered like a held breath, waiting. She didn’t expect to see Chanyoung that morning. Not in the elevator. Not just the two of them. But fate—or whatever strange force had brought her here—seemed to enjoy these quiet collisions.

Minjeong stepped in first, earphones in but not playing anything, just a wall between her and the world. She stood near the back, her tote bag slung over her shoulder, thumb brushing the zipper nervously.

Then the doors began to close—and just before they shut completely, a hand reached in.

Chanyoung.

He stepped inside, the doors sliding closed behind him. He looked tired. Not messy, just… worn. Like he hadn’t slept much either. His hair was damp from a shower, and he wore a gray hoodie with frayed sleeves and jeans. He gave her a small nod of acknowledgment—just a polite gesture between neighbors.

She nodded back. Silence. The kind that didn’t feel awkward—but wasn’t quite comfortable either. And then— Without knowing why, without planning to—Minjeong whispered, “Do you know Jung Sungchan?”

She barely finished the sentence before Chanyoung’s head snapped toward her so fast she heard the faint crack of his neck. His eyes widened in shock, and for a moment, he looked like she’d hit him.

“H-how…?” he breathed.

Minjeong held his gaze, not flinching.

“I did some research,” she said softly. “About the unit.”

Understanding washed across his face, soft and slow, like water over glass. His shoulders sank, eyes flicking downward to the floor as the elevator continued its slow descent. He didn’t ask what she found.

He didn’t need to. She saw it. The grief. The way it curled behind his eyes like smoke old, long-settled, but never truly gone. The elevator chimed. They’d reached the bottom. The doors slid open, and neither of them moved at first. Then Chanyoung stepped forward. Minjeong followed, just a few steps behind, her breath caught in her throat. As they exited the building, sunlight splashed across the front steps. For a moment, Chanyoung stopped, standing still under its warmth. Then he spoke—quiet, like he was telling a secret that had waited years to be said out loud. “He was my best friend.”

Minjeong’s heart thudded. Chanyoung turned slightly to glance at her. The smile that pulled at his lips wasn’t happy. It was gentle. Hollowed out. “He was everything I wasn’t,” he added. “He laughed too loud. Gave too much. Trusted too easily.” His gaze drifted past her. “And then one day… he was gone.”

Minjeong didn’t speak. There was nothing she could say that wouldn’t feel too small. Chanyoung nodded once, like he had reached the edge of something. “Be careful, Minjeong.”

“With what?” she asked.

He hesitated. Then offered a sad smile. “With how much you let him matter.” Before she could reply, he turned and walked away. Minjeong watched him disappear down the street, his hands tucked in his pockets, back slightly hunched against the morning chill.

She turned slowly back toward the apartment, her feet planted just outside the entrance. Her gaze drifted upward, toward her window—her room. The curtain fluttered slightly in the breeze.

And there, behind the glass— A figure watching. Sungchan. Minjeong felt no fear. Only a strange warmth in her chest. A quiet pull, a tether. Their eyes met, even from that distance.

She didn’t move. And neither did he.

— The sound of the espresso machine was deafening. Not because it was louder than usual—but because Minjeong’s thoughts refused to settle long enough to drown it out. Her hands worked from memory: pressing buttons, pouring milk, tapping filters. The usual rhythm of café life carried on, customers buzzing in and out, friends teasing each other behind the counter.

But her mind wasn’t there. It was back at her laptop from the night before. Back in the dim light of her apartment, staring at a small obituary thread she found after an hour of deep searching.

Jung Sungchan. Son. Younger brother. Twenty-three years old.

And below, a single comment left beneath the obituary:

The family moved shortly after. Left no forwarding address. Haven’t heard from them since.

No photos. No farewell notes. No public memorials. Just absence. A void. They had left. Walked away from the place he died. From his memory.

Minjeong remembered staring at that line for far too long last night. Her hands trembling as she tried to imagine what that kind of abandonment must have felt like—for someone already gone.

Had he waited for them? Had he hoped they would stay? Is that why he’s still here?

“Minjeong.”

Karina’s voice snapped her back. She blinked and looked up from the steaming milk pitcher in her hands.

“You okay?” Karina asked, frowning. “You just kind of spaced out for a full minute.”

“Yeah,” Minjeong said quickly. “Yeah, sorry. Just tired.”

Aeri joked, carrying a tray of iced drinks to the front. “You’ve had the same face all day. Like you’re trying to remember a dream you can’t shake.”

Minjeong gave a hollow laugh, but didn’t reply. Ningning appeared beside her. “Is it the apartment?” she asked quietly. Minjeong hesitated, then nodded, more to herself than to Ningning.

“It’s...a lot to think about,” she murmured.

She didn’t elaborate. How could she? That the silence in her apartment had a name. A voice. A soul. That every shift of light and movement was him—watching, waiting, maybe hoping for something she hadn’t figured out how to give.

And then there was Chanyoung. Can he feel Sungchan? Has he seen him before? Why did he never say anything? Why did he carry so much pain, but keep his distance?

Minjeong spent the rest of her shift distracted, moving through the day like a ghost herself. By the time she returned to her apartment that evening, the sky had dipped into a soft pink dusk. Warm air clung to her skin. The moment she stepped into her unit and closed the door behind her, the silence felt familiar again. She dropped her bag, kicked off her shoes, and exhaled.

“I know you’re here,” she said softly, her voice calm.

No sudden coldness. No flickering lights. Just a subtle change in the atmosphere—like the apartment exhaled with her. She walked into the living room and sat on the couch, folding her legs beneath her. She placed her phone facedown on the coffee table. “I saw what happened to your family,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Still nothing. But she could feel it. A heaviness settling near her, like a weight pressing gently into the cushion beside her. A warmth close to her shoulder. “They left,” she continued, voice barely above a whisper. “After you died. Your parents. Your brother. They moved and didn’t tell anyone where they went.”

She glanced toward the corner of the room, where the shadows stretched long across the floor. “Did you wait for them?”

A pause. Then, softly, the scent of rain filled the room—like wet concrete and early spring. She didn’t know how or why, but she knew it was him. Not sadness. Something else. Nostalgia.

“I don’t think they could handle it,” she said. “But I don’t think that makes it okay.” The air shifted again. And then, from the corner of her vision—he appeared. Not suddenly. Not dramatically. Just like before: as if he’d always been there.

Sungchan.

Sitting beside her on the couch, his arms resting loosely on his knees, head bowed slightly. His hair fell into his eyes, and he didn’t look at her at first. Minjeong didn’t flinch. Her heartbeat sped up—but not from fear.

“Hi,” she said, more gently this time.

He glanced at her, and then offered a small smile. It was more real this time. A little less surprised. A little more… human.

“Hi,” he murmured.

“I wanted to talk,” Minjeong said. “Not just… guess.” He nodded, eyes searching hers. “Can Chanyoung see you?” she asked, voice even. Sungchan’s gaze dropped to his hands.

“No,” he said after a long pause. “He could feel me before... I think. But he never saw me. Not like you do.”

“Why not?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

He hesitated, then offered a faint shrug. “He wasn’t ready. Or maybe he didn’t want to.”

“Did you try?”

His lips twitched into a sad, half-smile. “At first. He used to sit outside the door. Just… sit there. I wanted to say something. Anything. But it was like I wasn’t strong enough then. I couldn’t reach him.”

Minjeong’s throat tightened.

“Do you hate him for leaving you here?”

“No,” Sungchan said quietly. “He didn’t leave me. He just… couldn’t hold on anymore.”

Minjeong swallowed thickly. The grief in his voice wasn’t bitter—it was quiet. Familiar. The kind that doesn’t yell. The kind that lingers.

“You don’t blame anyone?” she asked.

He looked at her then. Eyes warm. Deep. Still sad.

“I think I was supposed to move on,” he said, as if confessing a secret to himself. “But I didn’t. I stayed. I don’t know why. I thought it was for them. For closure. But maybe…” He trailed off.

Minjeong leaned in slightly.

“Maybe what?”

He blinked at her, and something flickered in his expression—something fragile. “Maybe it was for you.” Silence fell between them.

Not empty. Full. Weighted. And for the first time, Minjeong didn’t feel like she was sharing her apartment with a ghost. She was sharing it with someone.

— A couple days passed quietly. Not uneventful—just soft, unspoken, filled with moments that didn’t need explanation. Minjeong hadn’t said anything to her friends. Not about Sungchan. Not about the note. Or the flower. Or how her apartment no longer felt like her apartment at all. It felt like theirs. Sungchan wasn’t hiding anymore—not like before. He still flickered sometimes, fading if he pushed his energy too far, but his presence was steadier now. Clearer. More defined. The air didn’t go cold when he appeared. There were no sudden shadows darting across the walls or ghostly whispers through closed doors.

He simply… was. There, beside her. There near the window. There leaning against the kitchen counter watching her fumble with the toaster like he’d never seen anyone wage war with bread so seriously. And maybe, in some strange way, Minjeong had grown used to it. Used to having him nearby. Used to talking out loud even when no one else could hear her. Used to glancing up and seeing him watching something he couldn’t touch.

That evening, the two of them were on the couch again. It was their new habit. Not planned. Not discussed. Sometimes the silence between them felt more honest than words. The TV played something Minjeong wasn’t really paying attention to a rerun of some slice-of-life drama. A couple was arguing about laundry and trust issues. The usual.

Sungchan sat beside her, not quite leaning against the cushions. His form was solid tonight—solid enough. Enough to cast a faint shadow under the lamplight. Enough that when she glanced over, she could see the soft dip of his hoodie collar, the slight furrow between his brows as he focused on the screen like he was trying to remember what it meant to laugh at simple things.

Minjeong’s feet were curled under her, a blanket over her lap. The warmth of her tea cup had long since faded, and her fingers idly curled around the rim of the mug.

The quiet was… easy. Domestic, almost. Like they’d always done this. Like they’d just been roommates—one of them a little more transparent than the other. “Do you want something to eat?” Minjeong asked suddenly, without thinking. The words left her mouth out of habit, not intention. And then it hit her. She froze. Her eyes widened a fraction, and she turned her head slowly, sheepish horror spreading across her face. “Oh,” she said under her breath. “Wait. God—sorry. I forgot… you’re… you can’t…” She trailed off, lifting a hand in awkward apology, unable to finish the sentence. Her voice went softer, almost embarrassed. “Right. You’re… you’re dead.”

Sungchan didn’t flinch. he didn't look hurt. Didn’t fade. Instead, he laughed. A gentle, barely-there chuckle that made the hairs on her arm rise—not from fear, but from something else. Something warmer. His voice, when he used it, always came like the echo of a memory. Real enough to hear, soft enough to mourn. “You’re the first person to forget,” he said, turning his head toward her.

Minjeong blinked, slightly confused. “Forget what?”

He smiled. “That I’m not supposed to be here.” The words landed heavy—but not painful. Just real. Minjeong exhaled slowly, letting her shoulders relax. She turned back toward the screen, eyes flicking briefly at the drama still playing.

“You’re still here to me,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Sungchan didn’t respond for a moment. Then, softly, “I think… that’s why I haven’t disappeared yet.” That made her glance at him again.

“What do you mean?”

He looked thoughtful now, like he was weighing something invisible in his hands. “I thought I stayed because I had unfinished business. That’s what people always say, right? Ghosts. Regrets. Closure.” He paused. “But maybe I stayed because someone was supposed to see me. Really see me.”

Minjeong’s eyes didn’t leave his. “I do,” she said quietly.

His expression changed—barely. Something fragile. Grateful. A little afraid. They didn’t speak for a while after that. The couple on the screen made up. Someone burned dinner. Credits rolled. Eventually, Minjeong stood, stretching with a soft groan and reaching for the remote.

“I’m still going to eat,” she said, glancing at him with a small smile. “Even if you’re just watching me chew.”

“Honestly,” Sungchan said with a mock-serious tone, “I’ve learned more about snacking from you in the last three days than in my whole life.”

She laughed. Out loud. And it wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t strange. It wasn’t sad. It felt normal. A strange, beautiful kind of normal. And for a moment, Minjeong forgot about death. Forgot about silence. Forgot about unanswered questions and grieving families and the mystery of why he hadn’t moved on.

For a moment, it was just her and Sungchan. Living and lingering. Together.

— The next morning came with soft rain tapping at the windows, a gentle rhythm that filled the apartment with a cozy sort of silence. Minjeong didn’t have work that day, and for once, she didn’t feel the urge to leave. She padded barefoot across the warm floor, holding a mug of tea in both hands. The apartment had become something of a cocoon—still quiet, still haunted, but now filled with the soft, lingering sense of presence. And not just because of Sungchan.

But because of them. Living and not living. Still, together.

She found him sitting near the window again. He’d taken to doing that lately—appearing there around sunrise, like watching the city wake up was a ritual he hadn’t given up yet.

His form flickered slightly in the gray light, more translucent than last night but still there. Still solid enough to see the curve of his shoulders, the line of his jaw, the slope of his fingers resting on the windowsill. “Morning,” she said softly.

He turned, offered her a quiet smile. “You always sit there,” she noted as she approached. “What do you see?” He looked back out the window, brow creasing slightly.

“Nothing, really,” he murmured. “But… it feels familiar. Like I’m supposed to be waiting for something to happen out there.”

“Like what?”

He shrugged. “Maybe for someone to come back. Or maybe for the world to move without me.” Minjeong sat down across from him, tucking her legs underneath her. They stayed like that for a while.

No rush. No pressure. Just quiet. Eventually, she spoke. “Can I ask you something?”

Sungchan nodded.

“What do you miss the most?” she asked gently.

He looked surprised at first. Then thoughtful. His eyes dropped to his hands again, as if the answer lived somewhere in the lines of his palms.

“I miss… sound,” he said slowly. “Not hearing it, exactly. But feeling it. Music vibrating in my chest. Laughter echoing off walls. The sound of my own footsteps.”

He paused.

“Sometimes I walk, just to pretend. But it doesn’t make noise. It doesn’t touch anything.”

Minjeong swallowed the lump in her throat.

“I used to drum on everything,” he added with a small chuckle. “The table, the wall, my own legs—anything. Drove Chanyoung insane.”

She smiled softly. “You played?”

“Not professionally. But yeah. I loved it. I think I was good, too. Had this cheap old drum pad I bought secondhand. Didn’t even have a stand—I used a stack of books.”

She could see it. The image formed easily. A boy in a hoodie, hunched over a beat-up drum pad, tapping out rhythms late at night, headphones askew. Laughing when he dropped a stick. Grinning when he got it right. “Do you still hear music?” she asked.

“Only if it’s playing out loud,” he said. “But it’s not the same. It’s like hearing it through water.”

She nodded slowly. Then: “Do you want to try?” He looked at her, confused. “Try what?”

“Feeling music again.”

She stood and walked to her phone. Scrolled through her playlists until she found a song she thought he’d like—something with soft percussion, warmth, rhythm. She placed the phone on the coffee table and turned the volume up. The room filled with sound.

Minjeong watched him. He didn’t move at first. But then, slowly, his eyes closed.

He tilted his head, listening—not just hearing, but searching for something inside the music. His hand hovered over the table, not touching it, but tracing the beat as if memory alone could make him feel it again. “I used to play along to this one,” he said after a while, voice quiet.

Minjeong smiled. “Then play.”

He blinked at her. She handed him a pair of chopsticks from the drawer, just for the feeling. He looked at them, amused, then laughed when his hands went through them, before he finally held them in his hands like drumsticks, lightly tapping the air to the rhythm pulsing through the room. He didn’t make a sound. But she swore she could almost hear it anyway. And for that moment, it felt like he was alive again.

Later, they sat back on the couch, the music now a soft hum in the background.

Sungchan looked more at peace than she’d seen him yet less like a ghost, and more like a young man just hanging out on a rainy afternoon.

But Minjeong couldn’t ignore the weight in her chest. A quiet ache that had been building all week. “Do you ever think about… leaving?” she asked suddenly. He turned to her, startled. “I mean,” she continued, hesitating, “moving on. Crossing over. Whatever it’s supposed to be.”

Sungchan didn’t answer at first. He looked at the window again, fingers twitching faintly like they missed the feel of sticks in his hand. “I used to,” he said finally. “A lot. Every day. I thought I was waiting for permission.”

“From who?”

“From myself. Or the world. Or maybe just… someone to see me and tell me it was okay to go.” She looked at him carefully.

“And now?”

He turned back to her, eyes steady. “I don’t want to leave,” he said. “Not yet.” Minjeong’s heart stuttered. “Why?” He smiled. And this time, it wasn’t sad. “Because now, someone sees me.” It had stopped raining. The soft patter against the windows had quieted, replaced by the low hum of evening life just beyond the glass distant car engines, a dog barking somewhere down the street, the occasional gust of wind. Inside, the apartment was a little too warm, the kind of comfortable heat that made everything feel slower, sleepier. A random cartoon was playing on the TV bright colors, cheerful voices, the type of show that didn’t ask anything of its viewer. Minjeong wasn’t paying attention to it. And neither was Sungchan.

He sat beside her, not saying anything. His body angled slightly in her direction. She could feel it—him. Not in a ghostly, spectral way, but in something subtler. A pull. An energy. An awareness that felt almost like gravity.

She didn’t need to look to know he was watching her. But eventually, she did. She turned her head slowly and met his gaze. He was already looking at her, his expression soft, hesitant. Their eyes held for a moment. A beat longer than it should have. Long enough to make the air shift between them. Then, quietly, he asked, “Can I try something?”

Minjeong blinked. Her chest tightened—not with fear, but with something softer. Curious. Vulnerable. She gave a single, wordless nod.

Sungchan’s eyes searched hers for a second longer, as if asking again in silence. Then, gently, slowly, he raised his hand toward her face.

Minjeong didn’t move. His fingers reached toward her cheek, trembling faintly with the effort of making his presence known—real. Visible. Solid. He stopped a few inches away. So close she could almost feel it. Almost. “Can you feel that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Minjeong swallowed. Shook her head once, slowly. “No,” she said softly. And that’s when she saw it. The shift in his eyes. That flicker of pain.

Not dramatic, not loud just quiet disappointment, the kind that makes you want to apologize even though it’s no one’s fault. His hand hovered there for a second longer, then dropped. He looked away, a faint smile flickering across his lips—but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I thought maybe I could, tonight,” he murmured. “I’ve been getting stronger. Staying longer. I just… I wanted to know what it felt like. Just once.”

Minjeong turned toward him fully, her heart aching. “You’re here,” she said. “That means something.”

“I know,” he replied. “It’s just… weird. Being this close to someone and still being untouchable.”

She reached out instinctively not to touch him, but to place her hand where his had hovered, gently pressing her palm to her own cheek.

“Maybe I can’t feel it,” she said, “but I saw you try. That’s real too.”

Sungchan’s eyes flicked to hers. And for a moment, the space between them felt like it was closing. Not physically. But emotionally. Spiritually. Invisibly. He didn’t try again. Not that night. But he stayed beside her, closer than before. His form didn’t flicker. His voice didn’t waver. They sat together in the soft glow of the TV, the cartoon forgotten, silence folding around them like a blanket.

Minjeong leaned back against the couch cushion, her eyes drifting shut for just a moment.

And she swore— Just for a second— She felt the faintest pressure against her shoulder. As if someone was leaning beside her. Not heavy. Not cold. Just there. Almost.

— It was a simple idea, really. Just a walk. Minjeong needed air. The apartment had started to feel too small not because of Sungchan, but because of the feelings building between them. The ones neither of them had spoken aloud yet. The ones sitting quietly between long silences and soft glances and almost-touching hands. She slipped into her hoodie and grabbed her phone.

When she reached for the doorknob, she felt it his presence nearby. Always nearby now. Close enough to sense before he appeared. She turned, already knowing he’d be there. Sungchan stood a few feet away, hesitating. “You’re going out?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost cautious.

“Just for a walk,” Minjeong said. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

That stopped her.

He glanced at the door, then back at her. His expression was unreadable. She hadn’t realized it until now, but he’d never once left the apartment since revealing himself. He never talked about why. Never made excuses. He just… didn’t, until now.

“Are you sure?” she asked gently.

“No,” he said, giving a small, sheepish smile. “But I want to try.”

She opened the door and stepped into the hallway, letting it stay open a little longer than necessary. And for the first time, Sungchan crossed the threshold after her.

The park was only a few blocks away, tucked behind a line of quiet residential buildings and low shops. It was small but peaceful—just a loop of pavement, a swing set, and some worn wooden benches facing a manmade pond. The air was crisp, fresh dried leaves crunched under Minjeong’s sneakers.

She walked slowly, one airpod in her ear. Not playing music. Just there—an excuse, in case anyone saw her talking to someone who wasn’t there.

Sungchan walked beside her. His form flickered just slightly more than usual, and his steps made no sound. But he looked… steady. Brighter under the moonlight, in a way that felt almost wrong. As if the world itself wasn’t sure he belonged in it anymore, but was letting him pass for her sake.

“Feels weird,” he admitted, glancing around.

“Because it’s your first time out?”

He nodded. “I don’t think I ever tried before. I didn’t think I could.”

Minjeong looked over at him. “So why now?” He didn’t answer right away. Then, softly: “Because you asked.” Her heart twisted gently. They walked past a couple with a small dog, a woman jogging in pink headphones, a teenager sitting on a bench scribbling in a sketchpad. No one noticed him. Not even a glance.

Until her. The old woman.

She sat on a bench near the playground, hunched under a long brown coat. Her silver-gray hair was pulled back in a low bun, and a patterned scarf covered half her face. She seemed ordinary—until her eyes locked onto Minjeong and didn’t look away. Minjeong felt the gaze before she saw it. A strange tension crawled up her spine, a shift in the air like static. When she turned her head, the woman was already watching her. Focused.

Sungchan, who had just been joking about how oddly bright the streetlights seemed, fell quiet beside her and then it happened.

As Minjeong and Sungchan passed by the bench, the old woman reached out—quick, precise—and grabbed Minjeong’s wrist. The grip was strong. Too strong for someone so frail. Minjeong gasped, stumbling slightly, her other hand instinctively moving to pull free. “Ah—ma’am?”

But the woman didn’t look at her. She stared straight down at Sungchan. Her eyes widened—not with fear, but with knowing. Her lips trembled slightly, and her fingers dug into Minjeong’s wrist.

Sungchan froze, his form flickering harder now, like being outside had finally taken a toll. The woman’s voice was rough, almost dry from disuse. “You shouldn’t be here.”

The words weren’t cruel. They weren’t even angry. But they were final. Heavy with meaning Minjeong didn’t yet understand. Minjeong pulled her wrist back, stepping between the woman and Sungchan without thinking.

“I—I think you’re mistaken,” she said quickly, voice shaking.

The woman blinked slowly as she looked up at Minjeong again. This time, really looked. And in her eyes, Minjeong saw something different now. Not confusion. Not even judgment. Pity.

“Don’t let him anchor too deeply,” the woman whispered. “He’ll forget how to leave.” Minjeong’s breath caught.

She opened her mouth to ask—what do you mean? what do you know?—but the woman simply stood, adjusted her coat, and began to walk away. No limp. No shakiness. Her pace was steady.

She didn’t look back.

Sungchan hadn’t moved. He was staring at the ground, his expression unreadable, the edges of his form flickering like flame in the wind. Minjeong turned to him. “Do you know her?”

“No,” he said quietly.

But he didn’t sound sure. And in that moment, the distance between them didn’t feel supernatural. It felt real. He looked at her—eyes full of something close to fear. Not for himself. But for what she might be starting to realize.

They didn’t speak on the walk back. Minjeong’s airpod stayed in her ear, but her playlist remained paused. Sungchan drifted beside her, quieter than she’d ever seen him. His form wavered—not violently, not in fear but in a way that felt like he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to be seen right now. But he didn’t disappear.

Not even once. And that said more than words.

Back in the apartment, she closed the door behind them gently. The familiar space—once strange, then comforting—now pressed in around her like a question she couldn’t quite answer. She didn’t take off her shoes right away. She just stood in the entryway, fingers curling around the hem of her sleeve.

That woman’s voice echoed in her mind.

“Don’t let him anchor too deeply.” “He’ll forget how to leave.”

What did that mean? Why would it matter? Wasn't he already here? Wasn’t he already... hers?

Sungchan hovered near the bookshelf, not quite sitting, not quite standing. His back was turned, but she could see the tension in the slope of his shoulders.

“Who was she?” Minjeong asked finally, her voice steady but quiet.

“I don’t know,” he replied without looking at her. “I’ve never seen her before.”

“She saw you,” she said. “Really saw you.”

He turned around slowly to face her. “I didn’t think anyone else could.” Minjeong stepped forward. “What did she mean? About anchoring?”

Sungchan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he dropped his gaze, as if the floor might offer an escape. Then, after a long moment: “Spirits like me... we’re not supposed to stay. We’re tethered by something—grief, regret, memory. But the longer we linger, the harder it becomes to leave.” He finally looked at her. And there was something raw in his eyes.

“I’ve felt it. Lately. I don’t drift anymore. I don’t fade when the sun rises. I don’t forget days. I’ve started... remembering. You know how terrifying that is, Minjeong? Feeling real again, in a world that already left you behind?”

Minjeong’s throat tightened.

She stepped closer. “Why is that a bad thing?”

“Because it’s not living,” he said. “It’s clinging.”

His voice cracked—just barely.

“I was supposed to move on. I don’t even know why I didn’t. And now... now I wake up beside you. I sit on your couch. I listen to music. I feel like I exist. But I don’t, Minjeong. I don’t. I’m not supposed to feel anything anymore.” Tears pricked at her eyes.

“You do feel,” she said. “You feel everything.”

He looked at her like he wanted to believe that. Like it both healed and hurt him. “You’re not holding me here,” he whispered. “I’m holding myself. Because I don’t want to leave. But maybe… maybe that’s exactly what i should.”

Silence fell again.

Minjeong walked past him, sat on the couch slowly. The place they always ended up. The place that had started to feel like something sacred. She looked at her hands in her lap. “Do you want to leave?” she asked softly.

He didn’t answer.

She turned her head. He stood across the room, eyes full of things he couldn’t say. But he took a step toward her, then another. He stopped in front of the couch, slowly sinking into the spot beside her. His form flickered, then steadied—just enough.

And then, carefully, he leaned into her shoulder, closer than ever. “I don’t know,” he whispered.

And that was honest. More honest than anything.

— Minjeong didn’t know how long they stayed like that. Sungchan beside her—not touching, not speaking, but there. Just barely close enough to feel like something she could lose at any moment.

The weight of it sat low in her chest. It was a strange kind of ache. Not quite sadness. Not quite fear. Something in between. Something harder to name.

That night, after Sungchan faded—gently, like always—Minjeong stayed up in bed, phone screen off, staring at the ceiling. Her mind looped through the woman’s words like a song she didn’t know the lyrics to.

“He’ll forget how to leave.”

But maybe that wasn’t the part that scared her the most. Maybe what truly terrified her was what if he did? What if he remembered how? What if one day she woke up, turned toward the couch or the window or the sound of a song—and he was simply gone?

No goodbye. No flicker. Just… nothing. The space he'd filled, now hollow again. Minjeong pressed her eyes shut.

She tried to tell herself that this was always temporary. That nothing could last between the living and the dead. That ghosts weren’t meant to be soft-spoken and beautiful and quietly funny and painfully real.

But none of those thoughts stopped the feeling that was growing inside her. Something she couldn’t explain. Something she didn’t dare name. Not love. Not yet. But something dangerously close to it.

The way her breath always caught when their eyes met. The way his laugh lingered longer than it should. The way she reached for him now without realizing.

It was more than comfort. More than companionship. It was him.

In the morning, she didn’t bring it up.

She didn’t say anything about feelings, or leaving, or thresholds crossed in the dark. She just made tea.

And when Sungchan appeared in the kitchen doorway, blinking at the light, hair tousled like sleep—even if he couldn’t truly sleep—she smiled like everything was fine. He smiled back. And that, somehow, hurt more.

They sat at the table together. She scrolled through her phone aimlessly, pretending to read the news. He watched the steam rise from her cup like it meant something. Like maybe it reminded him of breath, or warmth, or life.

“Do you remember more now?” she asked suddenly, gently.

He looked at her. Nodded.

“Yeah. Things I thought were gone… they're coming back.”

“Like what?”

He smiled faintly. “Stupid stuff. My high school locker combo. The sound my brother made when he sneezed. The name of my favorite vending machine snack.”

Minjeong laughed. “Let me guess. Honey butter chips?”

“Chocolate wafer bars,” he said proudly. “Five for a thousand won. Total bargain.”

She grinned. And then—before she could stop herself—reached across the table like she might nudge his hand. Her fingers passed through air. Of course they did.

But he didn’t fade. He didn’t flinch. He looked at her with something soft in his eyes. Familiar. Too familiar.

Minjeong pulled her hand back, fingers curling into her sleeve. She didn’t say what she was thinking. Didn’t say how she found herself waiting for him now—listening for his voice like a favorite song. Didn’t say how her chest ached when he wasn’t in the room, or how she looked forward to his presence more than anything else.

She didn’t say she was scared.

Because if she said it aloud—if she admitted that something was growing between them, something she couldn’t name—it might make it real. And if it was real... Then it could be taken from her.

Later that afternoon, Sungchan joined her on the balcony. He didn’t sit this time. Just leaned against the railing beside her, gazing out over the quiet street.

“You know,” he said, “I think I used to come out here after midnight. Just to feel the wind.”

Minjeong turned to look at him.

“You remember that?”

He nodded. “I remember feeling like the wind could carry me away if I let it.” He looked down at her then. Eyes soft. Searching.

“Would you be okay… if I wasn’t here one day?” The question shattered something small inside her. She forced a smile. “You’re still here now.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Minjeong looked away. She didn’t answer. Not because she didn’t have one. But because the truth would’ve cracked the silence too wide open. Because the real answer?

Was no.

— The café was alive with late morning energy blenders humming, cups clinking, conversations mixing with the soft background playlist that looped quietly through the speakers. Minjeong moved with practiced rhythm, scribbling names on cups, calling out orders, and pretending her mind wasn’t elsewhere.

But it was. It always was, now.

Back in her apartment. Back in the silence. Back with Sungchan.

Still, she smiled when she needed to. Laughed when Ningning cracked a joke. Made light conversation with regulars and brewed americanos like nothing in her life had changed.

Until the door opened—and it did. Minjeong looked up as the bell above the entrance chimed. And there he was. Chanyoung.

His hair was a little tousled from the wind, hands in the pockets of a faded bomber jacket, his expression casual—until he saw her behind the counter.

He blinked. Surprise flickered in his eyes. But then he smiled.

“Minjeong,” he said, warm but cautious, like he wasn’t sure how to greet her outside their hallway.

“Hey,” she replied, equally unsure. “Didn’t know you came here.”

“Didn’t know you worked here,” he said, approaching the register.

He ordered a simple iced latte—no syrup, no extras. Clean and sharp, like him. When Minjeong handed it to him, their fingers brushed briefly. Before he could turn to leave, she spoke up—quiet, but firm.

“Do you have time to talk?”

He looked surprised again. “Here?”

“Just a few minutes. Please.”

There was something in her voice. Something he couldn’t quite ignore. He nodded slowly and followed her gesture to the farthest corner of the café, a quiet table near the back window. He slid into the booth, one hand wrapped around the cold plastic cup.

A moment later, Ningning appeared beside Minjeong, a knowing glint in her eye. “I’ll cover the register,” she whispered, nudging Minjeong’s arm. “Go.” Minjeong gave her a grateful look, wiped her damp palms on her apron, and walked over to Chanyoung with her heart hammering inside her chest.

She sat down across from him, and for a second, neither of them said anything. Then she let out a long breath. “Okay,” she whispered. “I know this might sound crazy… but Sungchan’s spirit… it’s still here.”

Chanyoung froze. The shift in his expression was immediate. First confusion. Then disbelief. Then something darker. He laughed—once. Bitter. “Don’t play with me.”

“I’m not,” she said quickly, voice low. “I swear I’m not. I’ve seen him, Chanyoung. I’ve spoken to him.”

His jaw clenched. He pushed his drink slightly to the side and began to stand. “You don’t joke about things like that.”

“I’m not joking.”

“I watched him get buried, Minjeong. I saw his mother collapse. I saw everything. He’s gone.”

Chanyoung was already halfway up, his eyes hard—but underneath the anger was pain. Thick. Old. Untouched. And Minjeong couldn’t let him leave with that. So she reached across the table and grabbed his hand. Firm. Unshaking.

“Please,” she whispered. “You have to believe me.”

Her voice cracked at the edges—raw and trembling in a way that only truth can be. The emotion in it cut through the room like a soft blade. Chanyoung stopped. He didn’t pull away. He just stood there, caught in something too heavy to ignore.

His eyes dropped to her hand holding his. Then slowly, reluctantly, he sat back down.

His voice was quieter now. “Tell me.”

Minjeong swallowed, then leaned in closer, keeping her words soft. “The day I moved into apartment 23, I thought I was going crazy. Things moved. Lights flickered. The atmosphere was wrong. But then… I saw him.” She paused.

“Not like a blur. Not like a dream. I saw him..”

Chanyoung stared at her. His hand had gone still beneath hers.

“He’s gentle,” Minjeong continued. “He’s not lost. Not angry. He’s just… here. Like he’s waiting for something. He even told me he remembers you.”

Chanyoung’s eyes began to glaze. Not from disbelief—but from the weight of everything coming back.

“He really… remembered me?” he asked softly, almost afraid to believe it.

Minjeong nodded.

Chanyoung’s breath caught. And then, for the first time since she’d met him, she saw something break in his expression. His armor—carefully held, painfully shaped—fractured just a little.

“God,” he whispered, staring at the table. “All this time… I thought if I even said his name out loud, I’d lose it.”

“You didn’t,” Minjeong said gently. “You kept him.”

Chanyoung was quiet for a long time. Then, finally: “Can I see him?”

Minjeong hesitated. “I don’t know if it works like that,” she admitted. “He said he used to try. With you. But you couldn’t see him then.”

“And now?”

“I don’t know,” she said again. “But maybe… maybe it’s different now.”

He gave a slow nod, rubbing a hand across his face. When he looked up again, something had changed in his eyes.

Not belief. Not clarity. But willingness. “Okay,” he said. “Show me.”

— The silence in the apartment felt different. Not because something had changed between Minjeong and Sungchan but because someone else was coming in.

Minjeong unlocked the door slowly, glancing back at Chanyoung, who stood just behind her with his hands stuffed in his pockets. His expression was unreadable, though his eyes flicked across the hallway, the floor, the doorframe—as if trying to see something already.

She stepped inside first. Sungchan didn’t appear immediately. But Minjeong felt him. That faint pull in the air. A shift in weight. The same way her breath always caught, just for a moment, before he chose to be seen. Chanyoung hovered in the doorway, unsure.

“You can come in,” she said softly. He nodded and stepped over the threshold. The door clicked shut behind him. The apartment looked normal. Too normal.

Minjeong's books sat in neat stacks by the wall. The same candle from days ago rested on the coffee table. The light from the window spilled lazily across the floor, catching the edge of a forgotten tea mug. Nothing screamed “ghost.” Nothing moved.

Chanyoung shifted uncomfortably, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “So,” he said after a long pause, “this is it?”

Minjeong glanced around the room, eyes scanning the quiet corners, the space between the air.

And then—softly, like asking permission—

“Sungchan?”

Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough. The room stilled. And then, one by one, the signs began.

The candle on the coffee table flickered—just once. A mug shifted half an inch across the wood. The old poetry book on the shelf slowly slid forward, spine first, just like the day Minjeong had first noticed it.

Chanyoung inhaled sharply. “What the hell…”

Minjeong didn’t move. “He’s here.”

Chanyoung turned in a slow circle, eyes darting, breath caught between disbelief and emotion.

“Is this you?” he asked the room. His voice cracked—just barely. “Sungchanie hyung?”

No reply.

But then, gently—almost carefully—one of the chopsticks sitting beside the sink lifted. Not all the way. Just a twitch.

Then another. They rolled off the counter in tandem, tapping once on the floor before landing at Chanyoung’s feet.

He stared.

And then, like something inside him finally gave way, his knees buckled slightly as he sank onto the edge of the couch.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

And that’s when Sungchan appeared.

Not suddenly. Not dramatically. Just… present. Like he always was.

His form shimmered briefly into view beside the bookshelf, solid enough to cast a faint reflection in the TV screen, clear enough that Minjeong saw the shift in his face when he looked at Chanyoung.

He looked stunned. Quiet. Uncertain.

His mouth parted, like the sight of his best friend sitting there—aging, alive—was too much to put into words.

Minjeong stepped back, giving them space.

Chanyoung slowly stood again, breath shallow, hands slightly shaking. He stared at the figure in front of him, eyes wide with something that was not fear.

Recognition.

The weight of memory flooded the space between them.

“Sungchanie hyung?” Chanyoung whispered.

Sungchan nodded slowly.

And then Chanyoung did something that broke the room wide open.

He laughed. A short, disbelieving laugh, choked with tears he didn’t realize he’d been holding back. “You’re real,” he said. “You’re really here.”

Sungchan smiled softly.

“I tried,” he said. His voice was quiet, barely audible. “I wanted to say goodbye. But I didn’t know how.” Chanyoung blinked hard, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I thought I’d imagined it all. The noises. The flickers. I thought I was losing it. And then I moved across the hall just to feel close to you.”

Sungchan’s expression twisted—grief and guilt flooding his face. “You were always close,” he whispered.

Minjeong watched from the far side of the room, throat tight, hands clasped together. There were no hugs. No touches. Just two souls looking at each other across the space of life and death—one still healing, the other still haunting.

After a long moment, Chanyoung wiped his face roughly with the sleeve of his jacket and exhaled shakily.

“I missed you, man.”

Sungchan’s voice broke. “I missed you too.”

And then, like they both understood something without saying it, they stood there—silent.

Letting the weight of everything that had been lost settle between them. But also…

Everything that had somehow survived

The silence between the two men stretched, fragile and full.

Sungchan stood motionless, his form steadier than Minjeong had ever seen. For a moment, it was as if time folded inward—Chanyoung and Sungchan, two halves of a friendship broken by death, finally aligned in the same space again.

Chanyoung looked like he didn’t want to blink, afraid that if he did, Sungchan would vanish. “Do you remember everything?” he asked softly.

Sungchan’s smile faltered. His eyes flicked toward the floor.

“Not everything,” he replied. “But... enough.”

They stood in it—grief, memory, something unspoken. And then, in a single flicker of hesitation— Sungchan vanished.

Gone. Just like that. No light. No warning. No flicker or fade. One second he was there. The next—empty air.

Chanyoung staggered backward as if something had been ripped out of the room. “What—what just happened?” he asked, his voice sharp with confusion. He looked around, wild-eyed, spinning in place. “Minjeong? Where did he go?”

Minjeong stood frozen by the coffee table, the candle flame trembling beside her. She looked around too—but felt it in her bones.

The absence. It was sudden. Cold. Different from every other time Sungchan had left. Usually, his presence faded gently—like breath leaving a windowpane. But this time felt wrong.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “That’s... never happened before.”

Chanyoung stepped toward the space where Sungchan had just been standing, staring like he might still be able to find some trace of him. His hands trembled slightly at his sides.

“He was right here,” he said, breathless. “I saw him. I heard him. And then he just—he just disappeared.”

Minjeong moved closer, her heart pounding in her chest. “It wasn’t normal,” she said, her voice quiet but certain. “He’s never vanished like that. Not without saying anything.”

Chanyoung turned to her, face pale. “Did I do something wrong? Did I—scare him off?”

“No,” she said immediately. “No, Chanyoung, you didn’t. I think… maybe he just couldn’t hold on any longer. He’s been pushing himself lately—staying longer, going further…”

She trailed off, dread tightening in her stomach.

Had Sungchan reached some kind of threshold? Was the reunion too much? Or worse— Was he gone for good?

Chanyoung lowered himself onto the edge of the couch again, rubbing his face roughly. “I don’t understand,” he muttered. “Why now? Why disappear in front of me, just when I finally believed it?”

Minjeong sat beside him, the space between them thick with shared confusion and fear. Her voice barely held together.

“I don’t think he wanted to go. I think… he didn’t choose to.”

And for the first time since she met Sungchan, the apartment felt empty. Truly. Not like someone was waiting. Not like someone was watching.

Just— Quiet.

— Two days passed. Two long, hollow days. And Sungchan didn’t come back.

Minjeong barely slept. Her eyes would fly open in the middle of the night, expecting to see him standing by the window again, or sitting on the edge of the couch watching something with faint curiosity. But the apartment stayed quiet. Too quiet.

No flickering lights. No whisper of presence. No sound of shifting books or subtle flicks of invisible fingertips. Just… absence.

Each hour that passed without him made the silence louder. Chanyoung had texted her that morning.

“Any sign of him?”

Minjeong stared at the message for a long time before replying.

“No. Nothing.”

There was a pause before his next message arrived.

“Maybe… seeing me was what he needed.”

“To move on.”

She didn’t reply to that. Because deep down, she was afraid it might be true. That maybe Sungchan’s final moment—looking at his best friend one last time—was the tether breaking. And he was gone. Not just invisible, not just distant. Gone. Minjeong couldn’t say it out loud. Her heart refused to believe it.

She wandered through the park that afternoon, hoodie pulled up over her head, earbuds in but not playing anything. The wind moved around her gently, brushing leaves across the pavement, and the air carried a chill that made her pull her sleeves down past her wrists. She passed the pond. The empty swings. The same old benches.

And then— She saw her. The old woman. Seated once again on the bench near the playground, her scarf tucked tightly under her chin, hands folded neatly in her lap. Minjeong stopped in her tracks. Her chest tightened. She didn’t know what made her move toward the woman.

Anger? Desperation? The ache of not knowing?

Whatever it was, she found herself standing in front of the old woman before she could talk herself out of it. “You,” Minjeong said, voice steady despite the nerves tightening her spine.

The woman looked up slowly, her eyes already locked onto her—as if she’d been waiting. Minjeong’s throat dried, but she pushed forward. “What did you mean,” she said, “when you told me not to let him anchor too deeply?”

The old woman’s eyes narrowed. And then she smiled. But it wasn’t warm. It was the kind of smile you saw in stories—sharp and knowing and old. It made Minjeong’s skin prickle beneath her sweater. “I see it in your face,” the woman said. “The weight you’re carrying. The ache.”

Minjeong clenched her jaw. “Just tell me.”

The woman studied her for a long time. The wind picked up slightly, brushing strands of gray hair across her cheek. And then, in a voice like gravel and smoke, she said: “You fell for a ghost.”

Minjeong’s breath caught. It wasn’t a question. It was truth, delivered like a sentence.

“I didn’t—” she started, but the words crumbled the second they reached her mouth. Because she couldn’t deny it. Not really. Not when her chest ached like this. Not when her heart still listened for a voice that hadn’t returned. Not when she woke up hoping he’d be there.

The woman tilted her head, gaze piercing.

“I’ve seen it before. It always ends the same. The spirit either fades… or the living forget how to move on.”

Minjeong felt her throat tighten.

“I didn’t ask for this,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“No one ever does,” the woman replied. “But love is a tether. Sometimes stronger than grief. Stronger than death.”

Minjeong stared at the ground, her fists clenched at her sides. “Is he gone?” she asked, voice breaking.

The old woman was quiet for a moment. Then she answered—not cruelly, not kindly. Just honestly.

“If he is, that means he loved you enough to let go.”

Minjeong’s breath shook. The woman stood slowly, leaning on her cane. And before she turned to leave, she looked at Minjeong one last time.

“Or,” she added, her voice lower now, “he’s lost between here and what comes next. Still holding on… because you are.”

Then she walked away. Leaving Minjeong alone.

Her knees felt weak as she sank onto the bench, staring at the spot where Sungchan used to walk beside her.

Not a trace. Not a flicker. But in her chest, the ache stayed. And it whispered—

He isn’t gone. Not yet.

— Two weeks. That’s how long it had been since Sungchan disappeared. Since the moment he vanished without a word, right in front of Chanyoung. Since the air inside the apartment turned cold—not haunting, just… hollow.

Minjeong had waited. At first. Quietly. Every night she'd sit on the couch, legs tucked under her, eyes drifting toward the space by the bookshelf where he used to appear. Nothing.

She tried calling his name again. Once. Twice. Too many times. Still nothing.

It was different this time. Not like before, when he’d flicker in and out, when his presence was a soft echo around her. Now, he was just… gone. She didn’t talk about it. Not to her friends, not even to Chanyoung.

Because how do you explain the feeling of missing someone who was never supposed to stay? So she kept quiet. But the quiet started to leak through her.

At work, she found herself zoning out while steaming milk or wiping down tables. She’d stare at the same spot behind the counter for full minutes, not hearing Karina call her name. Not noticing customers waiting.

She was there, but not really. Like the world had gone grayscale. Like something important was missing and the colors hadn’t adjusted yet.

“Okay,” Ningning said one afternoon, slamming a clean towel down on the counter. “Enough.”

Minjeong blinked. She was staring out the window again, half-watching a couple walk a dog in matching sweaters. Ningning pulled her aside, voice low but firm. “What is going on with you?”

Minjeong opened her mouth, but no words came. She tried to smile. “I’m just tired.”

“Bullshit,” Ningning snapped. “This isn’t tired. This is haunted. You’ve been out of it for weeks. You’re scaring me.”

Before Minjeong could respond— She saw him. Or—she thought she did. Right outside the café window, walking briskly past the crosswalk. Tall. Pale skin. Black hoodie pulled up. But it was the eyes.

She didn’t even see them clearly, but her heart knew. Her body moved before her mind could catch up. “I’ll be right back,” she blurted, practically pushing past her friends as she raced to the front of the café and out the door.

The cold air outside slapped her awake. “Sungchan?” she called, breathless. The man paused at the end of the block and turned around. Minjeong froze.

Same face. Same bambi eyes. The familiar shape of his mouth, the gentle curve of his jaw, the tilt of his head.

Her heart jumped. But then he blinked, confused.

“I’m sorry, miss…” he said slowly, brows furrowed. “I think you’ve got the wrong person.” He gave her a polite smile before turning away, disappearing around the corner. Minjeong stood there in stunned silence, her breath fogging in the cold. Her heart thudded heavily, unevenly in her chest.

What the hell is going on?

Her feet felt glued to the pavement, her body caught between adrenaline and loss. She’d never seen someone who looked so much like him.

And yet—something had felt off. Wrong. The way he looked at her—no recognition, no warmth. But what if…?

What if it was Sungchan? What if something was changing? Back inside the café, Ningning watched her through the window, confused and concerned.

Minjeong slowly walked back in, her hands cold, her mind racing. Was she starting to imagine him now? Or was he trying to reach her—through fragments, faces, echoes? Or worse... was something else happening?

—

Minjeong couldn’t sleep. Not that sleep had come easy since Sungchan disappeared, but now—after seeing that man, after chasing his shadow—her mind wouldn’t rest.

She sat on her bed, laptop glowing softly against the darkness, searching things she never thought she’d type:

Can ghosts get stuck between worlds?

Spirits disappearing suddenly?

Doppelgängers of the dead?

How to bring back a ghost?

Some of the results were ridiculous. Message boards filled with blurry photos and clumsy red circles drawn over shadows. Clickbait titles about haunted dolls or cursed mirrors. She ignored them all.

But some posts—deep in forgotten forums and threads from years ago—spoke of something else.

“Sometimes spirits get caught in liminal spaces… places between the world of the living and whatever comes next. If they disappear suddenly, it’s possible they’ve slipped through a crack. Not gone. Just… misplaced.”

That word misplaced settled in her chest like an echo. Was that what had happened to Sungchan? The dreams returned. Faint, fragmented. The first one came after three nights without sleep. Minjeong finally passed out at dawn, cheek pressed to the pages of an open book she’d been too tired to read.

She was back in the apartment.

But it was different. Dim. Dusted over like time had passed and she hadn’t been there to see it.

And then— Sungchan. Not standing across the room. Not smiling beside her. Sitting. Alone. In the middle of the floor. His back to her, head down, as if he didn’t know she was there.

“Sungchan,” she whispered in the dream.

He didn’t move She stepped closer.

He turned slowly—and his face was almost his.

But not quite. His eyes looked clouded. Not empty—but confused, like he was dreaming inside the dream. Trapped in something deeper than she could reach. “I miss you,” she whispered, not even realizing she was crying.

He looked at her then. Blinked once. A flicker of recognition. And then—like smoke—he vanished. Minjeong shot awake, gasping, heart pounding in her ears.

Tears streaked her face. She stared at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling too fast, a single word breaking through the rush of panic:

He’s stuck.

At work the next day, she was even quieter.

She didn’t zone out—she spiraled in.

Reading articles behind the register, staring at the dream journal she’d started, flipping through her own notes like they might form a map.

Karina and Aeri noticed, but Ningning was the one who pulled her aside again. This time, she didn’t push. She just wrapped her arms around Minjeong and whispered, “Whatever it is… I’ve got you, okay?” Minjeong clung to her a second longer than she meant to, nodding against her shoulder.

Because Ningning didn’t know. No one did. Minjeong was falling in love with a ghost.

And now he was somewhere she couldn’t reach. Not yet. But she would. She had to.

— The knock was barely audible. Minjeong almost thought she imagined it—just the wind or her mind playing tricks on her again. But it came again. Three soft taps, like fingertips hesitant against wood. She padded barefoot across the living room, hoodie sleeves covering her hands as she reached for the doorknob. A pit had already formed in her stomach.

When she opened the door, her breath caught. Ningning was standing there, arms crossed, eyes sharp. And beside her was Chanyoung—hands in his coat pockets, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Before Minjeong could get a word out, Ningning raised one hand and cut her off.

“Don’t speak,” she said. “I forced it out of him.”

She pointed a dramatic finger at Chanyoung, who winced slightly and scratched the back of his neck. “I know now,” Ningning added, voice lower. “Everything.”

Minjeong’s mouth opened slightly, overwhelmed, unsure whether she should be relieved or terrified. “Wait, everything?” she asked.

“Yes,” Ningning said. “About Sungchan. About the ghost. The haunting. The disappearing. The feelings you’ve been carrying like a backpack full of broken glass.”

Chanyoung cleared his throat. “She, uh… wouldn’t stop until I told her.”

“I’m your best friend,” Ningning reminded Minjeong, stepping into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. “And I knew something was wrong. You were unraveling right in front of us.”

Minjeong closed the door behind them, her legs moving automatically, her heart sprinting in her chest.

“I saw someone who looked like him,” Chanyoung said quietly, taking a seat on the edge of the couch. “Yesterday. Not long after you did. I didn’t say anything because I thought—I thought maybe I was just tired. Or… missing him too much.”

“But it wasn’t just you,” Minjeong murmured, sitting across from him. “I saw him, too. Same face. Same eyes. But it wasn’t him. Not completely.”

Chanyoung nodded. There was silence for a moment. Until Ningning exhaled and spoke the words that cracked the stillness open.

“I might know someone who could help,” she said. “A medium.”

Minjeong looked up sharply. Ningning’s voice dropped, softer now. “My mom used to take me to her. Years ago. Weird stuff was happening at my grandmother’s house—lights flickering, a music box playing on its own. I was little, but I never forgot her.”

She pulled out her phone, opening her notes app and scrolling. “I found her number again.”

“Wait—you’ve had a medium’s number this whole time?” Chanyoung asked, staring.

“I didn’t want to drag her into this,” Ningning snapped. “Until I realized Minjeong was sinking and no one was throwing her a rope.”

Minjeong’s hands shook slightly in her lap.

A medium. It sounded absurd. But after everything—the books, the dreams, the touch that never landed—nothing was absurd anymore.

“Do you trust her?” she asked quietly.

Ningning met her eyes.

“I trust her more than I trust logic right now.” Minjeong nodded slowly, heart pounding.

If Sungchan was lost between here and whatever came next… If there was even the slightest chance of reaching him— Of telling him she missed him— That he wasn’t just memory, or longing, or a ghost in her chest—

She had to try. Even if it cost something. Even if it meant facing the truth of what she felt.

— The medium’s home wasn’t what Minjeong expected. It wasn’t dark or smoky, and there were no beads hanging in the doorway or shelves stacked with strange objects. No incense, no wind chimes, no crystal balls.

It looked… normal. Clean, quiet, sunlit.

The only thing slightly unusual was how still the air felt inside. Not cold, not warm. Just… suspended. Like the space was holding its breath.

Minjeong sat stiffly on a cushion across from the woman. Madam Eun—who wore a slate-grey cardigan and had a calm, unreadable expression. Her hair was pulled back in a neat braid, and her eyes—dark and deep—were the only part of her that felt ancient.

Chanyoung sat to Minjeong’s right, visibly uncomfortable, while Ningning offered a reassuring nudge to her shoulder.

“Don’t be scared,” Ningning murmured. “She’s quiet, but she sees more than she says.”

Madam Eun’s voice, when she finally spoke, was soft and certain. “You brought something of his?”

Minjeong nodded and held out a thin, folded piece of paper—Sungchan’s old movie ticket stub. It had fallen out of the poetry book days ago. She didn’t know why she had kept it.

Madam Eun took it delicately between two fingers and held it for a long time, eyes closed. Then she inhaled once, deeply. “The connection is still here,” she said. “But it’s fraying.”

Minjeong leaned forward. “Can you find him?”

“I can try,” she said. “But this isn’t about finding. It’s about listening. Spirits don’t get stuck unless they’re afraid… or pulled. And sometimes both.”

Minjeong’s stomach twisted. “Pulled by what?”

“By regret. Or by someone who loves them too much to let go.”

The words landed like ice in her chest.

“I’m going to open a listening space,” Madam Eun continued. “If he wants to speak… he will.” She lit a small white candle—not with drama, but with purpose—and closed her eyes again, one hand resting on the table, palm up.

“Don’t speak,” she said. “Not until he does.”

The flame flickered once. Then again. The room changed. Not visibly. Not physically.

But the air grew thicker. Like it was watching. And then— The candle went dark.

Chanyoung tensed beside her. Ningning’s breath hitched. Minjeong’s heartbeat roared in her ears. Madam Eun’s voice was low, nearly a whisper. “He’s close.”

Minjeong opened her mouth but stopped when the candle flared back to life—brighter than before.

And then, through the flickering light, a sound. A soft, dragging whisper across the table.

Minjeong.

It wasn’t her imagination. It wasn’t a voice in her mind. It was him. Real. Ragged. Like it had traveled too far to come cleanly.

Her throat clenched. “Sungchan,” she whispered before she could stop herself.

Madam Eun’s eyes snapped open. “Don’t speak too loud. He’s not fully here. Just… listening. Watching.”

Tears welled up in Minjeong’s eyes. “Why can’t I see him? Why did he disappear?” The candle sputtered.

And again—another whisper, barely a breath:

I didn’t mean to.

Chanyoung leaned forward now, eyes wide. “Sungchan? Is it really—”

The flame danced violently, then steadied again.

I tried to come back. But I can’t find the way.

Minjeong’s hands gripped the edge of the cushion. “He’s lost,” she breathed. “He’s stuck somewhere.” Madam Eun nodded slowly. “He’s in between. A space without time. You called him too close to the living… and now he can’t find his way back to either side.”

Silence fell again. And then, almost too faint to catch:

I miss you.

Minjeong’s breath broke. She reached a trembling hand toward the candle’s warmth. “I miss you too,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry,” she added, voice cracking. “For holding on so tightly. For not saying what I should’ve when I had the chance.”

The candle flared—once, sharply. And the ticket stub blew off the table with a sudden gust of wind that came from nowhere. Madam Eun caught it before it hit the floor, eyes narrowing.

“He’s not gone,” she said carefully. “But he’s further away than he’s ever been. If you want to bring him back…” She paused.

“It will cost something.” Minjeong’s voice trembled. “Like what?” The medium didn’t answer right away. Just looked at her—deep and long.

“Not money,” she said. “Something heavier.”

They sat in stunned silence. The candle had burned low. The air no longer buzzed with presence, but the weight of Sungchan’s voice still clung to Minjeong like a second skin.

“I miss you.”

She could still hear it. Still feel it.

She wiped at her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater, forcing her hands to stop trembling. Chanyoung, usually grounded and reserved, sat with his fingers steepled in front of his mouth, eyes fixed on nothing. Ningning was the first to speak.

“There’s something we didn’t mention before,” she said slowly, her gaze flicking between the two of them. “Minjeong saw someone… a man who looked exactly like Sungchan.”

“Me too,” Chanyoung added, his voice low, strained. “Maybe a week ago. He was just walking near the corner store. Same face. Same height. Same—” he swallowed. “Same eyes.”

Madam Eun’s expression didn’t change, but something subtle shifted in her posture. Minjeong looked up quickly. “But he wasn’t a spirit. I talked to him. He was real. He breathed. He looked confused when I said Sungchan’s name.”

Ningning leaned in. “Is that normal?” she asked the medium. “Could a spirit… reincarnate into someone else?”

“No,” Madam Eun said plainly. “But it can happen in reverse.” The words hung in the air like a blade. Minjeong’s blood went cold.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice almost breaking. The medium turned her gaze to Minjeong, steady and unreadable.

“Your friend’s soul is still caught between realms. Your longing—and his—are holding him. Binding him. But the longer a spirit lingers, the more unstable it becomes. It needs form.” Her eyes narrowed. “Sometimes, that form is already walking this earth. Empty enough. Unknowing enough. Aligned by something deeper.”

Chanyoung spoke slowly. “You’re saying… he could take that man’s place?”

A beat. Then Madam Eun nodded. “That man is a mirror. An unfinished life. A body ready to receive—if the conditions are met.”

Minjeong's chest tightened. “And what conditions are those?” The medium didn’t look away.

“That person might die soon,” she said, quiet but unwavering. “For your beloved friend…”

She turned her head slightly, eyes sharp as knives now.

“…and possible lover, to return.”

Silence fell like a drop of water into stillness. Wide. Echoing. Minjeong stared at her hands. Her knuckles were white. Chanyoung shook his head slowly. “So... in order for Sungchan to come back—someone else has to die?”

“It is not guaranteed,” Madam Eun replied. “But the tie is there. The potential. And it is growing stronger the longer he stays between.”

Minjeong’s voice came out as a whisper. “He wouldn’t want that.” “No,” the medium agreed. “But love is rarely clean. And loss never is.”

Ningning reached for Minjeong’s hand under the table, squeezing it tight. “We’ll figure this out,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “We’ll find another way.”

But Minjeong sat frozen, her mind reeling. What if there wasn’t another way? What if the choice really came down to this? Sungchan’s return… at the cost of a stranger’s life. A life that maybe wasn’t random at all. Maybe it was tied to hers in ways she couldn’t yet understand.

But either way— The door had been cracked open. And something was waiting on the other side.

— Minjeong wasn’t sure why she returned to the park that day.

Maybe it was habit. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was something deeper—like her feet already knew what her heart hadn’t yet accepted.

The wind was light, rustling through the trees above. The world looked ordinary. Too ordinary. But her chest tightened the moment she saw him again. He was seated on the same bench she’d first seen him walk past. Head tilted down, a small paper cup of coffee in his hands. Same slouched posture. Same dark hoodie.

Same face. Minjeong’s breath stilled. She walked toward him before she even fully decided to. One step. Then another. And as if sensing her presence, he looked up. There they were.

Those eyes. Those exact eyes.

She blinked, searching his face for a flaw, a difference—anything to make him feel less like him. But there wasn’t one. “Hi,” she said softly, stopping a few feet away. He squinted, brow furrowing slightly as if trying to place her. “I… think we’ve met?” he said uncertainly.

His voice wasn’t quite Sungchan’s. Deeper. Rougher at the edges. But still… familiar.

“You said I had the wrong person,” Minjeong said, cautiously taking a seat at the far end of the bench. “I… did?” he said, blinking. “I’m sorry, I—my memory’s kind of… messed up lately.”

Her heart stopped. “What do you mean?”

He glanced down at his coffee cup, rolling it between his palms. “I don’t remember much of anything. Not who I am. Not where I was going. Not even… my name.”

Minjeong’s blood turned cold. “You don’t know your name?”

He gave her a sheepish half-smile. “I mean, I’ve got a wallet. ID and stuff. But it doesn’t feel like me. You know?” She didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

“I’ve been in this weird fog the past couple of months,” he continued. “Like I’m here, but… not really.”

Minjeong’s heart was pounding so loud she could barely hear him now. He looked at her again. “You called me ‘Sungchan.. think,’ right?”

She nodded, her throat dry. He tilted his head. “That name means something to you?” Her voice cracked as she answered. “Yes.” He looked down again. “Then I’m sorry I’m not him.” She closed her eyes briefly, trying to hold herself together.

But all she could think was:

He’s real. He’s empty. He’s waiting.

And if Madam Eun was right… If this man—this almost-Sungchan—was the vessel… Then his life, his very existence, might be what stood between her and the man she missed more with each breath. She glanced at him again, studying his tired expression. He didn’t seem sad. Just… detached. Like someone who had wandered too far into a dream and couldn’t find his way back. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

He blinked. “For what?”

She almost said for what’s going to happen to you. Instead, she shook her head. “Just… sorry.” They sat there in silence for a while. The wind picked up. The trees rustled like whispers. And Minjeong felt the unbearable weight settle in her chest.

This wasn’t a ghost anymore. This wasn’t just memory or longing. This was real.

Flesh. Bone. Breath. A man who didn’t even remember himself. And now… maybe never would.

— The moment Minjeong walked into Madam Eun’s home again, the medium looked up from her tea and simply said:

“You saw him again.”

Minjeong didn’t speak. She just nodded, slowly, as she sat down across from the woman, her limbs heavy, her face pale from more than just exhaustion. Madam Eun poured her a cup of hot tea in silence, and they sat in it together—stillness. Weight. The awful knowledge of something real and irreversible taking shape.

“He’s not just someone who looks like Sungchan,” Minjeong finally whispered. “He’s lost. He doesn’t even know his name.”

Madam Eun didn’t flinch. “Then the bond is nearly complete.”

Minjeong shook her head, her voice suddenly cracking. “He’s a real person. He has a body. A life. Or—he could. He just doesn’t remember it. That’s not fair.”

“It’s never fair, darling.” Madam Eun replied. “Souls don’t operate on fairness. They operate on echoes.”

Minjeong pressed her hands to her face, her voice muffled. “There has to be another way.” Madam Eun was silent for a long moment. Then she leaned forward, setting her cup down gently.

“There are only three options,” she said quietly.

Minjeong looked up slowly, bracing herself. “First,” the medium said, ticking her fingers, “you sever the tether. Let go of Sungchan. Cut the emotional tie. And he’ll fade. Entirely.”

Minjeong’s heart shattered just hearing it.

“Second,” Madam Eun continued, “you do nothing. Wait. Hope. But the result is the same—his soul will continue drifting, growing weaker until the world forgets him.”

Minjeong swallowed hard. “And the third?”

Madam Eun looked at her with eyes like iron.

“Allow the vessel to empty. To break. And Sungchan’s soul will take its place. A true return.”

Minjeong’s chest tightened. “You mean… that man dies.”

“Yes,” the medium said plainly. “But only if the soul is ready. Only if the pain of staying apart outweighs the guilt of returning.”

Minjeong couldn’t breathe for a second. “Would Sungchan even want that?” she asked. “Would he want to come back… like that?”

“I don’t know,” Madam Eun replied. “But I do know this—he can feel your grief. Your longing. He hears it.”

Minjeong’s throat closed, her voice shaking. “I just… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” And then—something inside her broke. The tears she had kept hidden for days poured out.

“I miss him,” she whispered. “I miss him so much I feel it in my bones. And when he disappeared, I thought—maybe I imagined it all. Maybe none of it was real. But it was. And now this… this man, this version of him—he’s real too, and he’s alive. I can’t just wish that away.”

Madam Eun watched her silently. And for the first time, her voice softened. “You’ve already fallen in love with him, haven’t you?”

Minjeong wiped at her eyes with trembling hands. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You rarely do,” Madam Eun said gently. “But love like this… it changes things. Even the boundary between life and death.”

Minjeong looked away, staring at the flicker of candlelight on the far shelf. “I don’t know if I can choose.”

“You don’t have to. The choice is already being made,” Madam Eun said. “Your soul is calling to his. And so is his, to yours.”

Minjeong closed her eyes.

Then what happens to the man with Sungchan’s face?

What if I lose both?

The questions burned quietly inside her. And somewhere—somewhere not far—a soul in between worlds waited, listening.

Minjeong walked home alone. The night air stung her cheeks as she passed familiar streets that suddenly felt like pieces of someone else’s life. Her steps were slow, deliberate—like her body knew if she walked too quickly, the decision would come faster too.

Three choices. All of them impossible.

She reached her apartment door and paused with her key in hand, staring at the worn numbers etched into the metal: 23. She used to think this apartment had been her second chance. Now she wasn’t sure if it was a beginning… or a trap.

When she stepped inside, the lights stayed off. There was no flicker of movement. No soft laugh from the couch. No quiet presence lingering near the windows. Just her. And the hollow ache where Sungchan used to be.

She sat on the floor that night, legs curled under her, head leaning against the edge of the coffee table. The same spot where Sungchan used to sit with her. The same angle where his smile had once flickered in and out of her reality.

She whispered into the quiet. “I don’t know what to do.” Her voice trembled, lost in the silence.

“I want you back so badly it hurts. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. And it’s terrifying.”

A shaky breath.

“But if I ask for you to return… someone else might have to leave this world. Someone who didn’t ask for any of this. Who doesn’t even know what he’s missing.” She closed her eyes.

“I saw him again. He looked so lost. Like he’s waiting for something too.” She pressed her palm to her chest.

“I don’t want to be selfish. But I’m scared I already am.” Silence answered. No flicker of wind. No shifting shadow. Just her voice, folding into the space where he used to be.

The next morning, Minjeong didn’t go to work. She couldn’t pretend to be okay anymore.

Not with Karina’s worried glances. Not with Aeri trying to make her laugh in that overly bright way. Not with Ningning holding her eyes a second too long like she knew Minjeong was unraveling under the surface.

Instead, Minjeong walked. Nowhere in particular. She ended up near the river, watching the gentle ripples in the water catch the sunlight.

A couple passed by holding hands. A child tossed bread crumbs to birds. It all looked so normal. She wrapped her arms around herself.

Was she being tested?

Was this what grief looked like when it became too entangled with hope? Because it wasn’t just grief anymore. She loved him. Not the memory. Not the idea.

Him.

His quiet voice. His awkward curiosity. The way he tilted his head when watching cartoons. The way he’d tried just once—to touch her cheek like he missed the feeling of being human. And now she might never get another moment with him. Unless she made peace with someone else disappearing instead. Unless the universe demanded a trade. That night, she lit a candle. Just one. She didn’t try to summon him. She didn’t say his name. She just sat beside it. And whispered:

“If you can hear me… I’ll still ...love you. Even if you never come back.” The flame flickered slightly—soft, subtle. Minjeong didn’t reach for it. She simply watched it dance. And wept.

— The cake shop was quiet. It smelled like vanilla glaze and powdered sugar, with soft piano music humming from overhead speakers. The place was small, tucked between a florist and a bookstore, its walls a soothing cream and gold.

Minjeong sat at the corner table near the window, cradling a mug of tea between her palms, her eyes lost somewhere outside where the clouds hung heavy over the street.

Chanyoung sat across from her, absentmindedly picking at a slice of strawberry shortcake. Ningning had just returned with a fork and three small dessert boxes, plopping into the seat beside Minjeong.

“I don’t mean to be pushy,” Ningning began after a sip of her iced americano, “but you can’t stay in limbo forever.”

Minjeong’s eyes drifted toward her best friend but said nothing.

“She’s right,” Chanyoung added gently. “This thing with Sungchan… it can’t stay open-ended.”

Minjeong sighed, voice small. “I’m not choosing between him and some stranger.”

“Stranger or not,” Ningning said, “you are connected now. Emotionally. Spiritually. And maybe cosmically too.”

Chanyoung looked up. “We’re not saying you should let someone die. But if there’s even a chance something deeper is going on—then you need to decide if you're going to fight for it.”

Minjeong opened her mouth, but a sound behind them broke the thought.

A voice. Low. Familiar. Gentle.

“Is this fate or just a glitch in the Matrix?”

Minjeong turned her head. There he was. Him. The Sungchan lookalike—hoodie pulled halfway off, hair messier than last time, eyes lighting up when they met hers.

He smiled, boyishly awkward. “I keep running into you,” he said with a soft laugh. “Feels like you’re following me, or I’m following you.”

Minjeong’s heart froze. Ningning blinked and looked between them.

“You two know each other?” she asked carefully.

“Sort of,” the man said, stepping closer. “I never got your name, though.”

Minjeong stood slowly. “Minjeong.”

“Seongjun,” he said with a nod. “Jung Seongjun. Or at least… that’s what my ID says.” He chuckled again, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a small, slightly bent card.

Chanyoung reached for it before Minjeong could.

Jung Seongjun. Age: 24. Blood type: O. Issued: Three months ago.

Chanyoung stared at it for a beat too long, then handed it back without a word. Seongjun pocketed it, still smiling.

Ningning tilted her head slightly. “Can I ask you something, Seongjun?”

“Sure?”

“Where are you from?”

He blinked. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

“What about family? Parents? Siblings?”

Seongjun’s expression faltered, just for a second. Then he shrugged lightly. “I was told I was found unconscious near a construction site and brought to a hospital. They said I had no ID on me at first. I don’t remember anything from before I woke up.”

Minjeong’s breath caught. “Do you think… maybe you had a girlfriend?” Ningning asked carefully, watching him with sharp eyes.

Seongjun gave a soft, uncomfortable laugh. “If I did, she never came looking.” Silence fell. The kind that stretched. The kind that said this is real.

“I feel like I’m a blank page,” Seongjun admitted. “But for some reason, when I see you—” his eyes flicked to Minjeong again “—I feel like there’s something I’m supposed to remember.”

Minjeong’s hands trembled against her cup. He looked so much like him. But it wasn’t just that.

It was the way her chest ached when he smiled. The way his presence tugged at a thread buried deep in her ribs.

Jung Seongjun. Jung Sungchan.

Her head felt dizzy with the closeness of it all. Ningning glanced at Minjeong. Chanyoung looked down, his jaw clenched. There was no coincidence anymore. This was something designed.

Later that night, Minjeong would sit in her apartment again, staring at the corner of the room where the candle once flickered. The room felt heavier than ever.

And in the silence, the name Seongjun whispered through her mind like a ghost with someone else’s heartbeat.

— The air outside the hospital was sharp and dry. Minjeong stood under the awning of the main entrance, arms folded tightly across her chest. Chanyoung leaned beside her against the concrete wall, staring blankly at the double doors like they might open to answers.

Ningning had stayed behind—she didn’t say why, but Minjeong could tell the weight of Seongjun’s words from the cake shop still hadn’t left her either.

The name. The face. The feeling that he was real but also not supposed to be.

“Are you sure about this?” Chanyoung asked quietly.

“No,” Minjeong replied, her voice flat. “But I have to know.”

Inside, the hospital lobby smelled of antiseptic and linoleum. It wasn’t busy—just a few nurses behind the desk, the soft beep of monitors echoing down the hallway. Minjeong approached the main counter, heart hammering in her chest. “Hi… um, I was wondering if I could ask about a patient who was admitted here a.. while ago?”

The nurse behind the desk gave her a polite, tired smile. “Are you family?” Minjeong hesitated. “No. But… it’s important. His name is Jung Seongjun.”

The nurse began typing.

Click. Click. Click.

Minjeong tried not to breathe too loud. But then the nurse frowned. “Can you spell that again?”

“J-u-n-g. S-e-o-n-g-j-u-n,” she repeated, her palms already sweating. The nurse typed again. Waited. Refreshed. Then shook her head. “No admission records under that name. At least not in the last year.”

Minjeong blinked. “That… that can’t be right. He said he woke up here. That he was unconscious and brought in from a nearby construction site.”

The nurse clicked again, this time checking a second system. Still nothing.

“Did he give a date?” she asked.

“Three months ago,” Minjeong said quickly. “Near the end of winter. Maybe the first week of March.” The nurse squinted and searched again—this time narrowing the dates. One patient without identification came up.

But…

Male, early twenties. Found unconscious on construction site. No ID. Left without being formally discharged. File incomplete.

Minjeong leaned closer.

“Is that him?” The nurse turned the monitor slightly, showing a blurry black-and-white photo captured during intake. Minjeong’s breath hitched. It was him. His face. His eyes. But he looked even more hollow—vacant, not confused. Like someone who had just arrived and hadn’t decided if he was supposed to be real yet.

The name listed? Unknown Male.

Chanyoung stood beside her now, reading over her shoulder.

“Did he give you a name before he left?” he asked.

The nurse shook her head. “No. That’s the strange thing. He just… walked out one day. No one saw him go.”

Minjeong swallowed hard. “So how did he get the name Jung Seongjun?” The nurse looked confused. “He didn’t get it here.”

Back outside, the silence between them was sharp. Chanyoung finally broke it. “There’s no record of him ever existing before that night,” he said. Minjeong nodded slowly.

“He didn’t wake up,” she whispered. “He arrived.”

Back at her apartment, Minjeong sat on the couch where Sungchan used to sit. The room felt colder again. Still. Like something was bracing itself. And in the quiet, she spoke aloud:

“If you’re there… I think I understand now.” Her voice shook. “He’s not just someone who looks like you. He’s what’s left in the world. The space you left behind… filled itself.”

A long pause. Then softer: “But what happens to him… if you come back?”

The candle flickered. For the first time in weeks—it flickered. And Minjeong’s tears slipped down her cheeks. Because now she knew for certain: Seongjun was not a person with a past.

He was the empty place where Sungchan used to be.

— The park was quiet again. Same bench. Same overcast sky. Same restless ache in her chest. Minjeong sat with her hands clasped tightly in her lap, heart drumming hard against her ribs. Every part of her was trembling. This had to be the last time. She had to let go—for Seongjun’s sake. For Sungchan’s soul.

She heard the familiar shuffle of footsteps before she saw him.

“Minjeong?” his voice came, soft and curious. “You keep popping up everywhere.” She turned. There he was. Seongjun.

Or… what was left of him.

Same tousled hair. Same soft hoodie. Same eyes that didn’t quite know her—but always looked like they wanted to. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Hey.”

He walked over and dropped into the spot beside her on the bench, looking out at the same patch of grass where the wind was playing with fallen leaves. “You okay?” he asked, glancing sideways.

Minjeong inhaled slowly.

“I… need to say something. It might sound strange. But please, just let me finish, okay?”

His brow furrowed, but he nodded. “Okay.”

Minjeong turned toward him fully, her voice shaking. “I think you’re not just someone I’ve randomly met. I think you’re… tied to someone I loved. Someone who’s no longer alive.”

His smile faltered. She kept going. “I don’t know how or why, but… the day he disappeared, you appeared. And maybe that’s why you feel so lost. Like something's unfinished.”

Seongjun’s breath hitched. “You think I’m… him?”

She shook her head. “No. I think you’re you. But something in you—maybe the part that doesn’t remember anything—it’s his.” Silence fell between them. Heavy. Unbearable.

Minjeong forced the next words out. “That’s why I have to say goodbye. Because I can’t risk your life just to bring back someone I miss. No matter how much I love him.” Her voice cracked on the last word. She turned her face away, blinking back tears.

But then—something happened. Seongjun exhaled sharply. A hand flew to his head. He winced. Then gasped. “Are you—?” Minjeong stood in alarm, reaching out. “What’s wrong?”

“My head—” he choked out. “It’s like… like something’s splitting open.” He stumbled to his feet, nearly falling as he grabbed the side of the bench, eyes wide with panic.

And then— He froze. Eyes locked on her. But this time… They were not Seongjun’s. Something else had surfaced. A depth. A warmth. A flash of recognition that cut straight through her.

Sungchan.

His lips parted as if to speak—but no sound came. Instead, his expression twisted with pain. He dropped to his knees, both hands pressed against the side of his head, gasping through clenched teeth. Minjeong dropped beside him.

“Sungchan?” she whispered, barely breathing. His body trembled. Shoulders heaving. Eyes clenched shut.

Then— A voice. Faint. Strained. “I… hear you.”

Minjeong’s breath caught. “Sungchan?” she repeated, louder now, her hands cupping his face.

“Don’t… let go.” The voice came from Seongjun’s mouth—but it wasn’t his. It was deeper. Clearer. Sungchan’s.

And then—he slumped. Minjeong caught him before he hit the ground, arms wrapped around his shaking form. His body still felt warm, alive, but there was a stillness in him now. Like something had paused. Like something was… shifting. She held him close, whispering his name again and again.

“Sungchan, please… I’m here. I’m not letting go. Come back. Just come back.” And deep within the man who was once just Seongjun, something finally responded. A tear slipped from the corner of his eye. His lips moved.

“Minjeong…”

— Minjeong had barely slept. She hadn’t left his side. After he collapsed in the park, Chanyoung had rushed to help, arriving just in time to carry Seongjun—no, Sungchan—back to her apartment. They didn’t ask questions. Not yet. There wasn’t time. He was breathing. Warm. Alive. But still… somewhere in between.

Now, Minjeong sat cross-legged on the floor beside her bed, staring at the man lying unconscious above her, one hand resting lightly on the blanket over his chest—counting the rise and fall, over and over again.

Seongjun’s face looked peaceful. His brow no longer furrowed in confusion. His features softer than before. Still familiar. But now… it wasn’t just resemblance. It was presence.

“Minjeong…”

She’d heard him say her name. Not like a stranger echoing a sound. But like someone who remembered everything behind it. She didn’t move as the morning light bled through the curtains, golden and cautious. The candle she'd lit the night before had long since burned out. But the space—her apartment—felt different now.

Full. Heavy. A current moving just beneath the surface. And then— He stirred. Fingers twitching slightly. A soft inhale through parted lips. Minjeong held her breath. Then his eyes blinked open.

Slowly. Brown. Deep. Awake. He stared at the ceiling for a moment before turning his head. His gaze met hers. And for the first time in what felt like lifetimes— He saw her.

Not like Seongjun had. Not like someone trying to figure out where they were. But like Sungchan. Like he’d come home. “…Minjeong?” His voice was low, hoarse, but full of recognition.

Minjeong’s eyes welled instantly. “You’re here,” she whispered.

He sat up slowly, blinking as though the light stung. He looked down at his hands, frowning faintly, then back at her. “I… I don’t know how,” he said. “It’s like I’ve been… dreaming. But I was awake. Watching everything through glass. Like I wasn’t fully… me.”

“You weren’t,” she whispered.

He studied her face, his voice cracking with quiet confusion. “But I remembered you.”

That shattered her. Her throat tightened, and before she could stop herself, she reached for him—arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him close. His body was solid. Warm. His breath hitched against her ear. “I thought I lost you,” she said into his shoulder. “You just disappeared. You didn’t even say goodbye.”

“I didn’t want to leave,” he said, voice breaking. “But it hurt. Being here. Being not real. And then… you started letting go. I felt it. And it scared me.”

She pulled back slightly to look at him. “I thought I was hurting you by holding on.”

“No.” He cupped the side of her face with a trembling hand. “You’re the only reason I found my way back.”

Minjeong leaned into his palm, even though she could barely breathe through the emotion tangled in her chest.

“But… Seongjun,” she said softly. “That name. That life. What happens to him now?” Sungchan’s face shifted. A shadow passed through his eyes. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But it was never his life, Minjeong. He was… a vessel. A reflection. A chance.”

“Does that mean… you’ve taken his place?”

“I think… we were never separate,” Sungchan whispered. “He was my second chance. I just needed to be ready to come back to it.”

Silence swelled between them. A second chance. That’s what this had always been. Not just for Sungchan. But for both of them.

“I don’t know what this means,” Minjeong said. “Or how long it lasts. But if you’re here…” He leaned his forehead against hers.

“I’m not going anywhere this time.”

——— A/N: Hope you like this story! It's been on my mind for a couple of weeks now and i felt like i HAD to write it down.

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110625 🐸

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IM IN LOVE. I'm really loving this hair on Eunseok

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My Bestfriend — S. ES

Pairing : Female!Reader x Song Eunseok // <Lee Anton>.

Summary:

Oh Y/n and Song Eunseok have been inseparable since they were toddlers, growing up side by side in neighboring houses, their bond strengthened by the close friendship of their mothers. From chasing away bugs to bandaging scraped knees to protecting her from other mean classmates. Eunseok has always been Y/n’s quiet guardian — the one who stood between her and the world when it felt too loud. Everything is thrown into question when things slowly started to change. Less time spend together. Is she finally realizing that maybe… her best friend was never just her best friend?

⚠ Not proofread! So sorry if there are any kind of grammar mistakes! Also thank you sm for enjoying this story! I had a lot of fun writing it! ♡

After the café, neither Y/n nor Anton seemed in any rush to return home.

Anton had suggested stopping by the plant shop next door a soft curiosity in his tone and Y/n found herself tagging along with a little smile.

Inside, the shop was bright and green. Sun filtering through the ceiling windows, casting leafy shadows on the floor. It smelled like earth and mint and fresh beginnings. Anton crouched down to examine a tiny cactus with a cartoon face painted on the pot.

“I think this guy gets me,” he said, lifting it up for Y/n to see. “Stands tall. Needs space. Will stab you if you get too close.”

Y/n laughed, leaning over his shoulder to peek. “You? More like… this one.” She pointed at a trailing pothos by the window. “Looks like you’re always reaching for something, but never in a rush.”

Anton glanced up at her, the smallest smile playing on his lips. “You’re pretty poetic, noona.”

“And you’re pretty dramatic.” she shot back, nudging him lightly with her elbow.

They left the shop with a tiny pot of lavender between them something Anton insisted on gifting her “as a thank you for tolerating him all day.” After that, they wandered aimlessly. Into a stationery store, where Anton secretly bought her a new set of pastel highlighters after she’d mentioned losing hers last week. Then to a quiet walkway lined with cherry blossom trees, petals drifting gently in the breeze, where they ended up sitting on a bench, feet brushing occasionally, talking about nothing and everything.

There was no rush. No pressure. Just the gentle unraveling of comfort between two people learning each other’s rhythms.

—

By the time Anton walked Y/n back to her house, the sun had started to dip below the rooftops, casting golden streaks along the sidewalk. They slowed at her gate, neither eager to end the day. Anton held the pot of lavender carefully as Y/n dug around in her bag for her keys.

“I had fun today.” he said sincerely. “It’s been a while since I felt this… relaxed.”

Y/n glanced at him, her hand still on the gate. “Me too.” There was a pause not awkward, but weighted. Like the quiet breath before a page turns. That’s when the sound of footsteps approached. Both of them turned. And there he was Eunseok, walking up the street with a plastic bag in one hand and his hoodie sleeves pushed up. He paused mid-step the moment he spotted them together.

His gaze dropped to the lavender in Anton’s hands. Then to how close they were standing. The shift in his expression was subtle. But Y/n saw it. “Hey,” she said quickly, stepping forward.

“Hey,” Eunseok echoed, a little too casually.

Anton straightened slightly beside her. “Hi, hyung,” he said with that respectful politeness he always used

Eunseok gave a short nod. “What’s that?” he asked, jerking his chin toward the plant. “Oh,” Anton glanced down, holding it up like a peace offering. “Lavender. For Y/n noona.”

Eunseok’s jaw tightened for a moment before he smirked, almost too lightly. “Didn’t know you were into gardening now.”

Y/n frowned slightly. “It was just a gift. We passed by a plant shop.”

“Right,” Eunseok said, looking at her now. “Well… I was just dropping something off for your mom.”

He held up the bag groceries, or maybe some kind of side dish he always helped bring over when Mrs. Oh needed something from his mom’s place.

Y/n opened the gate and stepped aside. “You can come in if you want—”

“No,” Eunseok said quickly. Then softened. “I mean, it’s fine. I’ve got stuff to do anyway.”

Y/n hesitated. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

He offered a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and turned to leave. “See you, Anton.” he tossed over his shoulder. “See you,” Anton replied quietly, glancing at Y/n after he disappeared down the street. Y/n stood in place for a few more seconds, heart tangled in something she couldn’t quite name. Anton gently nudged the plant into her hands. “You okay?” Y/n blinked, managing a faint smile. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

She didn’t say what kind of tired. And Anton didn’t ask. But as she stepped inside, the lavender cradled in her arms, she couldn’t help but wonder if something had just shifted if some invisible line had been drawn between her and Eunseok.

And if it had… who would be brave enough to cross it first?

— The house was unusually quiet for a Monday morning. No clatter of Sion’s backpack being zipped last minute, no Eunseok crashing through the front door like he owned the place. Just a stillness broken by the soft hum of the kettle, and the scent of toast and freshly brewed coffee.

Y/n stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her oversized hoodie barely clinging to one shoulder. Her hair was tied up lazily, her eyes still heavy with sleep. She hadn’t meant to wake this early. But her body always betrayed her on days like these the dull ache low in her stomach a familiar, unwelcome alarm.

Her parents looked up the moment they noticed her.

“Well, well,” her father smiled, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “Didn’t expect to see you up before the sun.”

“You woke up a little earlier than normal,” her mom added, already reaching for the second mug. “Didn’t sleep well?”

Y/n gave a tired shrug and rubbed at her lower stomach absently. Her mom caught the motion and didn’t need further explanation. “Ah,” she nodded gently, sliding a warm cup of coffee toward her. “One of those days.” Y/n accepted it with a grateful smile, sinking into the seat next to her mother.

Her father checked his watch as he downed the last sip of his drink and stood up, straightening his tie in the hallway mirror. “Gotta head out,” he said, leaning down to kiss both Y/n and her mom on the head. “But—” he paused at the door, keys in hand, “—I’d like to meet your new friend tonight.”

Y/n blinked. “Who?”

Her dad smirked. “Anton.”

“What?” she nearly choked on her coffee. “Why? How—”

“Your mother may have mentioned a certain boy who brought you lavender and smiled too much.”

“Mom!” Y/n turned sharply, narrowing her eyes as her mom laughed softly beside her.

“He just seems sweet,” her mom said with a playful shrug. “And your father’s been curious. He never got to properly interrogate Eunseok either, remember?”

“Because Eunseok’s practically your second child!” Y/n muttered, cheeks burning as her dad chuckled on his way out the door.

“I’ll be home by seven!” he called out.

The door closed behind him with a soft click.

Y/n slumped in her chair, one hand wrapped around the coffee mug, the other resting on her stomach. Her mom was already rinsing the dishes, but her gaze flicked briefly to the windowsill to the tiny lavender pot that now lived near the morning sun.

“Smells lovely,” she said softly. “He chose well.”

Y/n followed her gaze and smiled faintly. “He’s thoughtful like that.” Her mom turned to her, leaning slightly on the counter. “And how are you feeling about all of this?”

Y/n hesitated. “I’m… not sure.”

There was a silence not uncomfortable, but open. Her mom didn’t press further. Just nodded. “Sometimes,” she said as she dried her hands. “it takes a little distance to figure out what you’re really drawn to.”

Y/n looked up at her, brows raised. “Distance?”

Her mother just smiled knowingly. “Or time.”

Y/n stared at the lavender again. Thought about the soft quiet of Saturday with Anton. Then thought about a pair of brown eyes that narrowed every time she got too close to another guy. About how Eunseok hadn’t stayed for breakfast. About how he hadn’t messaged her since.

“Time,” she repeated under her breath.

Her mom placed a hand on her shoulder gently before moving past her. And as the morning light crept further across the kitchen tiles, Y/n realized she had a long day ahead of her — one that might bring more answers than she was ready for.

— The sky was painted in soft hues of peach and lavender as Y/n trudged beside Eunseok on the quiet street toward campus. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable in fact, it was almost comforting, like a song they both knew by heart. Except today, there was something different about the rhythm.

Eunseok glanced sideways at her, noting the shadows under her eyes and the way she kept one hand pressed firmly against her lower abdomen.“You look like you haven’t slept in five years,” he teased, nudging her gently with his elbow.

Y/n gave a weak snort, the corners of her lips tugging upward for the briefest second. “Feels like it.”

He tilted his head, eyeing her carefully. “The usual?”

She gave a silent nod, fingers curling slightly over her hoodie as if to shield the discomfort in her stomach. Eunseok sighed — not in annoyance, but familiarity. He’d seen her like this plenty of times before. Like clockwork, her body betrayed her every month with the same fatigue, cramps, and the look of quiet misery she didn’t bother hiding from him.

“You wait here,” he said as they reached the front of the campus courtyard. He pointed to the bench under the large cherry blossom tree, the petals just starting to bloom. “Sit down. I’ll be right back.”

“What—Eunseok,” Y/n called softly, confused, but he was already disappearing into the main building.

She sighed and slowly lowered herself onto the bench. The air was crisp against her cheeks, the breeze just cool enough to make her wish she’d worn a thicker hoodie. Within minutes, Yunjin and Ryujin spotted her.

“Uh oh,” Yunjin said knowingly, sliding onto the bench beside her. “It’s the stomach?”

“Yeah, first day.” Y/n muttered. “Didn’t sleep. I feel like I fought a war in my dreams.” Ryujin handed her a hair tie as she sat on the other side. “Here, your hair looks like you fought the war too.”

Y/n smiled weakly, looping her hair into a messy bun.

Just then, a trio of boys approached — Anton, Sungchan, and Wonbin. The sound of their laughter echoed as they crossed the courtyard, until Anton’s smile faltered the moment he saw Y/n slouched on the bench, her face pale and drawn.

Without missing a beat, Anton veered away from the group and straight toward her. “Ryujin noona, scooch.” he said, nudging the girl playfully with his hip.

“Make me,” she grumbled but moved anyway, rolling her eyes as she stood. Anton sat down beside Y/n and gently placed a hand on her back. “Morning, noona. You okay?” Y/n didn’t answer. She just leaned her head onto his shoulder. Her friends exchanged glances.

Anton didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his hand moved to lightly rub her upper back in slow circles not too close, not overbearing, just… present.

Then, without a word, he reached into his backpack and pulled out a chocolate bar. It was the exact kind Y/n liked — with caramel in the middle, the kind she always said made her 'forget the pain for five minutes.'

“Didn’t know you’d need this today,” he said softly, “but I packed it just in case.”

Y/n took it with both hands like it was sacred. “You’re actually a wizard,” she murmured before taking a huge bite, sighing into the taste like it gave her life.

Anton grinned. “I’ve been called worse.”

That’s when Eunseok returned. He walked up holding a nearly identical chocolate snack in one hand, a bottle of warm barley tea in the other. He spotted them immediately — Y/n tucked close to Anton, her head still against his shoulder, and the chocolate already halfway gone.

His steps faltered. He was late. Just three minutes. But in those three minutes, someone else had been there for her first. “Hey,” Eunseok said lightly, trying to mask the flicker of emotion behind his smile. “Vending machine queue was a nightmare.”

Y/n looked up, eyes lighting up a little. “You went to get me this?” She reached for the tea, but then saw the snack in his hand — and hesitated, noticing she already had one. “Sorry,” she said awkwardly. “Anton… kind of beat you to it.”

Eunseok glanced at the chocolate in her hand and nodded once. “No worries,” he said casually, offering the snack to Yunjin instead. “Emergency backup. One of you guys will eat it.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Yunjin said, ripping the wrapper open with a grin.

But Eunseok didn’t sit next to Y/n. Instead, he dropped onto the other end of the bench beside Sungchan, resting his arms behind his head as he stared up at the sky.

The breeze played with the fallen petals under the old cherry blossom tree, sunlight flickering through its branches as the group sat gathered on the bench just minutes before the bell.

They were in the middle of a lazy conversation half laughter, half-yawns when Chaeyoung’s voice cut through the air like a silk ribbon drawn tight.

“Eunseok,” she called out, her tone soft and confident as she approached with a smile that seemed just a bit too polished. She greeted the group politely — a brief nod to Y/n, a flicker of a smile to the others before her eyes settled squarely on the boy seated comfortably at the end of the bench.

“Can we talk before classes start?” she asked, then quickly added, “In private?” There was a beat of silence. Sungchan’s brows rose dramatically. Ryujin blinked and Yunjin leaned forward slightly like she was trying to catch better audio.

Eunseok glanced sideways first at Y/n, whose hand had subtly stopped halfway to her mouth holding a half-eaten chocolate bar, then back at Chaeyoung. “Yeah, sure,” he said with a shrug, pushing himself to his feet. The moment Eunseok walked off with Chaeyoung, disappearing around the corner of the building, the bench practically exploded with quiet chaos.

“The way she just stood there like that-” Sungchan said, sitting up straight, “that’s classic K-drama confession energy. I’ve seen this scene before. Several times.”

Yunjin snorted and gave him a playful slap on the arm. “Okay but... facts. That tone? That look? She’s definitely about to confess or lay out some feelings.”

“Or mark her territory,” Ryujin added under her breath, raising an eyebrow. Y/n didn’t say a word. She sat perfectly still, chocolate forgotten in her hand, her gaze fixed on the empty space where Eunseok had stood just seconds ago.

The world seemed to move around her in gentle motion the giggles from Yunjin, the light chime of Sungchan teasing Ryujin, Anton quietly unwrapping a second granola bar but for her, it felt like time had slowed to a crawl.

Her stomach still ached faintly, but now something tighter twisted just beneath the surface something warm and cold at the same time. It was strange. She hadn’t thought about what it would feel like to watch someone confess to Eunseok. It was just Chaeyoung, she told herself. Pretty and confident. Knew how to tilt her head when she smiled. Wasn’t that the kind of girl he’d go for?

Y/n spaced out, her eyes glassy but unfocused as Anton turned to look at her. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t ask what she was thinking. He just passed her the bottle of barley tea she had set aside earlier, his hand brushing lightly against hers.

Y/n blinked and looked at him really looked at him and offered the smallest smile, the corners of her lips tilting up in a way that wasn’t quite a smile. As soon as the bell rang, the courtyard began to empty students filtering toward their classrooms in a wave of chatter and footsteps. Y/n waved goodbye to Sungchan, Wonbin, and Anton with a small smile, “See you guys at lunch.”

“Don’t forget to bring your appetite,” Anton added with a playful grin, making a mock chef’s kiss gesture as he walked backward before turning to follow the boys down the opposite hall.

Yunjin and Ryujin fell into step beside Y/n as they made their way toward their first period. The usual chatter between the three girls was lighter than normal. Yunjin was scrolling through her phone, Ryujin humming under her breath, and Y/n—Y/n’s thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

Her eyes scanned the hallway on instinct. Looking. Searching. And that’s when she saw her. Chaeyoung. She was walking a few steps ahead, surrounded by a couple of her usual friends. Her glossy hair bounced lightly with each step, her laughter a little louder than necessary. She looked smug. Or maybe that was just how it appeared in Y/n’s eyes now.

But there was one thing that stood out most. Eunseok wasn’t with her. He wasn’t anywhere near her. Y/n’s steps slowed for a second, long enough that Ryujin gently nudged her arm. “You good?” Ryujin asked, following her gaze. Y/n quickly looked away. “Yeah… I just—thought I saw something.” Her tone was off, and Ryujin caught it immediately. But she didn’t press.

As they entered the classroom, Y/n realized that Eunseok wasn’t in this class with her. It was strange she had grown so used to his presence beside her during other periods that it felt like something was off, like a piece of the day was missing. Especially now, after what she’d witnessed with Chaeyoung. Her mind felt clouded with questions she didn’t want to ask.

Sliding into her usual seat, Y/n placed her bag down gently and stared at the empty desk next to her, even though she already knew it wouldn’t be filled by him. Ryujin plopped into the seat in front of her while Yunjin sat at her right. The chatter in the room grew louder as more students filed in, but it all sounded muffled to Y/n like she was underwater, drifting somewhere else.

Yunjin leaned in a little closer, dropping her voice. “She really went out of her way, didn’t she?” Y/n blinked out of her thoughts. “Huh?”

“Chaeyoung,” Yunjin said. “Cornering Eunseok like that before class. That whole ‘can we talk in private’ thing? So obvious. It’s giving K-drama second lead energy.” Ryujin turned around in her seat. “Facts. I swear I’ve seen this exact scene in like three dramas.”

Y/n offered a weak smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t want to admit that she was thinking the same thing. That the weird flutter in her chest since this morning had everything to do with that moment Chaeyoung appeared and asked for Eunseok alone.

Why did she care this much?

“Whatever it was,” Ryujin said, pulling out her notes, “I bet she made some kind of move. Her eyes were way too smug walking back.” Y/n didn’t respond right away. Instead, she opened her notebook and stared at the blank page. It shouldn’t matter. Not like that.

She took a breath and told herself to focus on class, but the weight in her stomach lingered. And despite herself, she found her gaze shifting toward the door, half-hoping—half-dreading—that maybe Eunseok would suddenly appear.

And for the first time that morning, Y/n felt something far heavier than cramps twisting in her stomach. Something that tasted too close to jealousy.

— By the time the bell rang for lunch, Y/n was more than ready to escape the stuffy classroom. Her stomach was still twisting, but not from hunger. She walked with Yunjin and Ryujin toward the courtyard, both girls chatting about class and gossip from earlier, but Y/n stayed quiet, her thoughts elsewhere.

As they rounded the corner and approached their usual table, Y/n’s steps slowed.

There they were—Eunseok and his friends already sitting like kings of the courtyard, casual and carefree. Eunseok sat leaned back slightly, arms draped lazily across the back of the bench. His tray was half-full, and he looked up just as Y/n arrived. The seat to his left between him and Anton—was empty. Y/n knew instantly it was meant for her.

Anton glanced up too, giving her a soft, almost shy smile before scooting an inch to the side, making more room. Without a word, Y/n took the seat, placing her tray in front of her, trying not to think about the closeness between her and either of the boys.

The girls filed in next, filling the rest of the bench. Conversations picked up around her, lunch trays opened, the smell of rice and fried food filling the air. Somi, always one to dive straight into the topic that everyone else danced around, looked across the table at Eunseok with a sly grin. “So… Eunseok. What happened this morning? With Chaeyoung?”

Y/n’s grip on her chopsticks faltered slightly, but she didn’t look up. Instead, she poked at her rice, forcing herself to breathe evenly. Eunseok didn’t miss a beat. “She confessed.” Just like that. Everyone at the table froze—forks halfway to mouths, drinks paused mid-sip.

Yunjin’s eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

“She what?” Ryujin echoed with her mouth full.

Anton, who sat on Y/n’s right, didn’t say anything at first. His gaze, however, moved quickly to Y/n, studying her reaction.

Y/n said nothing. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t lift her head. She just shoved a piece of kimchi into her mouth like nothing had happened like her heartbeat wasn’t thudding in her ears. Somi leaned forward, eyes lit with curiosity. “Okay, so what did you say to her?”

Eunseok was quiet for a moment, then muttered, “Nothing important.” Winter raised a brow. “That’s it?”

“I didn’t say yes,” he clarified with a shrug. “Didn’t say no, either. I just… told her I wasn’t thinking about that stuff right now.”

The group slowly resumed their eating, processing his words in silence for a moment. “Well that was anticlimactic,” Shotaro muttered as he tried to swat Winter’s hand away from his dumplings. “You’re like the least romantic lead ever, hyung.” Laughter bubbled up from the others, but Y/n stayed quiet. Anton noticed. He glanced down at her tray, then at her, brows slightly knit in concern.

“You okay?” he whispered under his breath, leaning just a bit closer. Y/n finally looked up, and their eyes met briefly. She nodded quickly and gave him a tiny, reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But even she didn’t believe it. And from the corner of her eye, she caught Eunseok watching.

— The final period of the day always felt like a drag—especially on Mondays. The classroom buzzed faintly with low conversation as students settled into their seats, the late-afternoon sun bleeding in through the windows in warm, tired streaks. Y/n dropped into her chair, stretching her back with a soft sigh just as her best friend slid into the seat beside her.

Eunseok didn’t even glance at the board. Instead, he pulled out her notebook, flipping it open without asking, and began doodling across the page she had left blank. Silly faces, cartoon suns with sunglasses, hearts with arrows—each more ridiculous than the last.

“Really?” Y/n whispered, leaning over just enough to glare at him.

Eunseok leaned his head against the desk so his cheek pressed against the wood, his eyes still fixed on her as he smirked. “I’m adding artistic value.”

“You’re ruining my notes.”

“You weren’t taking any.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, trying not to smile as she turned slightly to nudge his shoulder with her elbow. “Focus,” she mouthed, brows furrowed in fake sternness. Eunseok closed his eyes dramatically, a small smile lingering on his lips. “Can’t,” he whispered. “Too boring.”

She turned back toward the front, still very aware of him beside her. A few moments passed in comfortable silence before he murmured again, just loud enough for her to hear, “By the way, I won’t be able to walk you home.” Y/n looked at him.

“My mom’s picking me up,” he added, his eyes still shut. “We’ve got a family dinner thing.”

Y/n nodded slowly. “That’s fine. Just text me when you get home.”

She didn’t mention Anton. Not because she was hiding it, but because somehow the moment felt too quiet, too soft to interrupt with that particular detail. When she looked over, Eunseok’s breathing had evened out slightly. His eyes were fully shut now, lashes resting against his cheeks, lips parted a little as he drifted off peaceful in the way only someone totally comfortable could be, even with a classroom buzzing around them. He didn’t even flinch as a gust of wind pushed through the slightly cracked window.

Thankfully, the teacher hadn’t noticed. Sungchan—tall as ever—sat directly in front of them, unknowingly shielding Eunseok from view. Y/n shook her head slightly at how unbothered her best friend could be, even during class. Still, as her gaze lingered, she reached out with her fingers gently brushing aside a few strands of hair that had fallen across his forehead.

Just before the bell rang, she gave his shoulder a small shake. “Wake up, school’s over.” Eunseok stirred, blinking slowly, and then stretched his arms over his head with a low groan. Right on cue, his phone buzzed on the desk. He picked it up and glanced at the screen.

“She’s already here,” he muttered, starting to pack his things. “My mom’s always ten minutes early, I swear.” Y/n zipped up her bag too, walking beside him out of the classroom. The building was slowly emptying out, the hallway full of shuffling feet and lazy chatter as students rushed out into the warm afternoon air. They exited the gate together, and sure enough, there she was—Mrs. Song standing beside her car, waving brightly the moment she saw the pair of them.

“Y/n!” she greeted, immediately pulling the girl into a warm hug.

Y/n laughed. “Hi, auntie.”

Mrs. Song pulled back to get a better look at her. “You’re starting to look more and more like your mom every time I see you,” she beamed, cupping Y/n’s cheeks. “Honestly, I’ve always said I want Eunseok to date someone like you—so pretty, so smart—and then marry you and have pretty lit—”

“Bye, Y/n!” Eunseok said suddenly, voice high-pitched with urgency as he wrapped an arm around his mom and dragged her toward the car. Mrs. Song laughed all the way to the door. “I’m just saying! Think about it!”

Y/n stood there, cheeks burning, shaking her head with a disbelieving smile. She turned around—and jumped when she saw Anton standing a few feet behind her, hands casually in his pockets, his usual easy smile in place.

“I’m ready!” he said brightly, laughing at her startled expression. “Though I’m suddenly nervous about meeting your dad.”

Y/n laughed, still slightly flustered from Mrs. Song’s comment. “There’s nothing to worry about,” she assured him as they began walking together toward the bus stop. “He just wants to meet you. That’s all.”

“Still,” Anton said, glancing at her. “He’s your dad. I feel like I should’ve worn something nicer.”

Y/n looked at his simple hoodie and jeans and smiled. “You look fine.” As they waited for the bus, the conversation flowed effortlessly. They talked about how boring their classes had been, how Sungchan had nearly fallen asleep twice in chemistry, and how the cafeteria had somehow managed to ruin something as basic as rice.

When the bus finally came, they took a seat near the back. The motion of the bus rocked gently as it started down the road, and Y/n leaned her head slightly against the window, a hand unconsciously drifting to her stomach again.

Anton noticed. “Still hurting?”

She gave a small nod. “A little.”

Without a word, he reached into his bag and pulled out another chocolate bar the same brand he’d given her earlier. He handed it to her silently. Y/n looked at it, then at him, her lips quirking into a quiet smile as she took it. “You’re getting good at this.”

Anton shrugged, a soft blush rising to his cheeks. “Just memorizing the patterns.”

Y/n leaned back against the seat, unwrapping the chocolate and taking a bite. As the sweetness spread across her tongue, she let herself relax a little, the tension in her body slowly easing.

For a moment, everything felt… soft. Easy. And as she glanced sideways at Anton, laughing quietly at something he said, she realized something—whatever it was that had been building between them, it was slowly becoming real. Even if it hadn’t started with the intention of being anything. It was something now.

And maybe… that was okay.

The bus jolted to a harsh, sudden stop brakes screeching, the force of inertia throwing everyone forward for a split second.

Y/n let out a small gasp as she lurched with the motion, but before she could pitch too far forward, Anton’s arm shot out on instinct. It stretched protectively across her chest, keeping her firmly in place. Her back bumped slightly against the cushioned seat, but she hadn’t fallen. Her hand, however, loosened in the shock—and the chocolate snack she'd been savoring slipped from her fingers, flying out of her grasp and tumbling somewhere across the bus floor.

“What just happened?” she whispered, breathless.

The bus filled with commotion, people murmuring in startled tones, a few voices rising with frustration as passengers demanded to know what the driver was thinking. From the front, the driver stood, flustered. “A kid ran across the street! I had to stop or I would’ve hit him come on, people, I’m not trying to kill anyone.”

That explanation silenced most of the complaints, but the tension lingered in the cabin like static electricity. Everyone still had that post adrenaline stiffness in their bodies, the kind that came after a narrowly avoided accident. Anton slowly pulled his arm back, his hand brushing Y/n’s shoulder as he did.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently, turning to look at her. His brows were knitted in concern. Y/n’s eyes were still wide, the shock lingering on her face. Her heart felt like it had jumped into her throat, pulse still racing. She glanced back up at him, cheeks flushed and warm, barely nodding. “Y-Yeah... just startled.”

Anton offered a small, sheepish smile. “That was close,” he whispered. Y/n looked away quickly, blinking as her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. Her chocolate bar was still lost somewhere, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. The warmth of his gesture still lingered how quickly, instinctively he had protected her without even thinking.

Outside the bus, life continued. A kid, apparently unharmed, was being scolded by a panicked parent on the sidewalk, and after another few moments of the driver double checking things, the bus jerked back into motion.

But something had shifted.

Inside the quiet between them, something unspoken now pulsed in the space small, undeniable. Anton leaned his elbow on the back of the seat, turning his head to look at her, still visibly worried. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I think your chocolate flew into another dimension.”

Y/n finally let out a quiet laugh, her shoulders relaxing just a bit. “Guess the universe decided I didn’t need sugar after all.”

“I’ll get you a new one,” Anton said, sitting back with a faint smile. “Maybe one that doesn’t try to make a dramatic escape.”

Y/n didn’t respond right away. She just looked at him for a moment longer really looked. And then, quietly, “Thank you. For… you know. That.”

He met her eyes for a second. “Of course,” he said, voice soft. “Always.” The rest of the ride was quieter. Stillness returned to the bus, but Y/n’s mind was far from settled.

And when she glanced out the window, it wasn’t just the streetlights or passing buildings reflecting in the glas it was the look on Anton’s face, the feeling of his arm across her, the calm in his voice, still echoing in her chest.

She hadn’t expected the day to go like this. But now, she wasn’t sure what she’d expected at all.

— The bus pulled away with a low rumble, leaving behind the slight scent of rubber and the humming silence of early evening. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long golden streaks over the pavement. It wasn’t quite sunset yet, but the light had turned that honeyed shade that made everything feel a little softer, a little quieter.

Y/n and Anton walked side by side down the familiar road that led to her house. At first, neither of them spoke. Their steps fell in a quiet rhythm, sneakers brushing the pavement. Occasionally a leaf or two would skitter across the sidewalk with the breeze, but the space between them stayed still. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence—but it was heavy with unspoken thoughts.

Y/n wrapped her arms around herself, the light breeze brushing past her, tugging at her loose sweater. Her stomach had settled slightly, but the faint ache still lingered at the edges. She hadn’t told Anton that part, but something told her he knew. He was always paying attention in that quiet way of his.

“So,” he finally said, glancing over at her with a small smile, “are bus rides with me always going to be this dramatic?”

Y/n let out a soft laugh, her head tipping to the side slightly as she looked at him. “I guess we’ve set the bar now. Next time it’ll have to be a car chase or aliens landing.”

Anton chuckled, his hand brushing the strap of his backpack. “I’ll bring popcorn.”

The laughter died down slowly, and the air between them grew gentler again. There was something different in the way Y/n looked at him now something she hadn’t had time to name yet. But it wasn’t just gratitude for a protective arm on the bus. It was something warmer, something that settled deeper.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said quietly.

He looked at her, brow furrowing slightly. “What?”

“On the bus,” she replied, slowing down a little. “You didn’t have to put your arm in front of me like that. But you just… did. Without even thinking.” Anton slowed with her, walking backward for a few steps so he could face her directly. “Of course I did,” he said, like it was obvious. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Y/n looked down at the sidewalk, then up at the sky, eyes blinking against the fading light. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “It just… surprised me, I guess.”

He walked beside her again now, a bit closer this time. “I’d always do that,” he said, softer now. “You’re my friend, Y/n.”

The word “friend” landed somewhere in her chest like a sigh. It was true. They were friends. But lately especially lately it had started to feel like there was something lingering in the space between the syllables. Something she wasn’t quite ready to name.

“You’re a really good one,” she said, finally. Anton didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he glanced at her with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. As if part of him wanted to say something else entirely, but wasn’t sure if now was the right time.

They kept walking, feet scuffing gently against the path. The sun dipped a little lower, casting the neighborhood in soft shadows. By the time they turned the corner onto Y/n’s street, the porch lights were already beginning to flicker on.

As her house came into view, Anton slowed his steps again. Y/n’s heart picked up a little, a mix of nerves and anticipation fluttering in her stomach. “You sure you’re ready to meet my dad?” she asked, glancing sideways at him with a teasing smile.

“No,” Anton said immediately, deadpan. “I’m absolutely terrified.” Y/n laughed, shoving his arm lightly with her shoulder. “I’ll be fine,” he added with a grin. “Unless he has a bat. Then I’m running.”

“He’s more of a cold stare kind of guy,” Y/n replied, mock serious. “Very dad-like. Intimidating in a subtle way. But he warms up once he decides you’re not a threat.”

“Cool, so all I have to do is survive his silent judgment.” Anton looked up at the house like it was a battlefield he was preparing to walk into. “No pressure.” They paused at the foot of the stairs leading to her porch. The lavender plant Anton had given still sat in its little ceramic pot on the window ledge, catching the light. It made him smile a little.

Y/n looked at him again really looked. And in that moment, with the sunset behind him and the ghost of laughter still on his lips, she realized something had shifted between them.

Not in a loud, dramatic way. But in the kind of way that crept in slowly. The kind of way that stayed. Before she could speak, the front door opened, and her mother’s voice rang out warmly: “You’re just in time. Dinner’s almost ready. Your dad’s been waiting.”

Anton looked at Y/n, a spark of nerves in his eyes—but also something steadier beneath it. Trust. And with a quiet nod from her, they stepped up the stairs together.

One small moment at a time. Something was changing. And neither of them were quite sure what came next. But for now, they were walking it together.

The warm aroma of Mrs. Oh’s home-cooked meal filled the air, a comforting blend of garlic, soy, and something sweet simmering on the stove. Laughter and the quiet clinking of dishes came from the kitchen where Y/n stood beside her mother, arranging side dishes in small porcelain bowls. The kitchen table had already been wiped down and dressed with placemats.

Meanwhile, in the living room, things were… a little more tense.

Anton sat upright on the couch next to Sion, hands politely folded on his knees. His usually relaxed smile was a bit stiffer than usual, but he was trying his best to appear calm. Mr. Oh sat in the armchair across from him, one leg crossed over the other, sipping a cup of tea with the calm authority of a man who wasn’t going to let anyone get too comfortable too quickly. Sion, clearly enjoying the show, looked between them like he was watching a drama unfold.

“So,” Mr. Oh began, setting his tea down slowly, “Anton, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Anton replied quickly, sitting straighter. “Thank you for having me over.”

“Hm.” Mr. Oh raised an eyebrow slightly, clearly sizing him up. “And what do you do, Anton?”

Sion snorted beside him. “He’s a student, Dad. Like me.”

Mr. Oh ignored his son and continued, “What are you studying?”

“Media and communications, with a minor in film studies,” Anton answered, grateful to have a question he could answer confidently.

Mr. Oh nodded slowly, though his expression didn’t give anything away. “And what exactly do you plan to do with that?”

Anton hesitated only a second. “I’d like to work in production maybe directing or editing. I really love storytelling.”

There was a pause.

Sion elbowed him lightly. “He’s actually really good.” Mr. Oh gave the faintest hum, then finally leaned back in his chair. “Hmm. At least you have a plan. I respect that.” Anton let out the smallest sigh of relief, which didn’t go unnoticed by Sion, who grinned.

Back in the kitchen, Y/n glanced toward the living room, hearing only the murmur of voices. “Do you think he’s being nice?” she whispered to her mom, placing down the last bowl of banchan.

Mrs. Oh smiled knowingly. “Your father always acts like that when someone new is in the house. It’s his way of saying ‘I care.’”

Y/n wrinkled her nose. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Mrs. Oh chuckled. “You’re protective too, just in a different way.”

As they started carrying dishes to the dining table, Y/n called out, “Dinner’s ready!”

Anton was already standing by the time she peeked her head around the corner. He gave her a small smile grateful, relieved, and just a little nervous still. Mr. Oh joined them with a quiet dignity, taking his usual seat at the head of the table. Sion flopped into the chair beside him, already reaching for the chopsticks before getting a glare from his mom. “Wait for everyone.”

Anton waited until Y/n took her seat before sitting beside her. When their knees brushed slightly under the table, Y/n didn’t pull away. And neither did he. As the family began eating, the conversation turned lighter Mrs. Oh asked Anton how his parents were, if he had any siblings, what kind of food he liked. He answered everything politely, still a little stiff, but gradually warming under her kind tone and Y/n’s subtle reassurances beside him.

Every so often, Y/n would glance sideways at him. He looked different like this nervous, yes, but sincere. Careful. Like he was trying his hardest to make a good impression not just because it mattered, but because she mattered.

And somehow, that quiet effort meant more than anything loud or grand. Even Mr. Oh noticed by the end of dinner, saying less, watching more. As dessert was brought out, and Sion launched into a story about something chaotic that had happened at school, Anton and Y/n met eyes for a brief second. There was something in his gaze gratefulness, familiarity, something gentle and unspoken.

Whatever it was, it settled comfortably between them. And for the first time that day, Y/n felt the ache in her stomach ease just a little.

— The plates had long been cleared, and the warm scent of grilled meat and side dishes still lingered faintly in the air. Now, laughter and soft conversation echoed from the kitchen as Anton helped Mrs. Oh dry dishes, sleeves rolled up slightly, a kitchen towel tossed over his shoulder.

“I still can’t believe Sion used that much gochujang last time he tried to cook. The entire pot was inedible,” Anton said, shaking his head with a grin.

Mrs. Oh laughed heartily, handing him another bowl to dry. “I told him it wasn’t a competition. Just because Eunseok can handle spice doesn’t mean the rest of us are built like fire pits.”

Their shared laughter filled the kitchen in a light, easy rhythm. It was genuine, the kind of comfort that comes not from trying hard, but from simply clicking with someone. Meanwhile, in the living room, Y/n sat curled up beside her father on the couch, the soft hum of the television playing an old weekend variety show neither of them were really paying attention to.

Mr. Oh leaned back with his tea in hand, watching his daughter in the flickering light of the screen. She was trying to seem relaxed, but he caught her eyes flicking toward the kitchen door more than once.

“You like him,” he said, not unkindly, but in that quiet, matter-of-fact tone only a father could manage.

Y/n stiffened slightly. “I—what?”

Mr. Oh chuckled, glancing toward the soft clatter and laughter in the kitchen. “It’s not a bad thing. He’s… respectful, funny and doesn’t seem like the type to cause trouble.”

Y/n turned a bit toward him, cheeks tinged pink. “We’re just friends.”

Her father didn’t argue. He just nodded, sipping his tea again.

“Friends who bring your mom lavender and wash the dishes after dinner,” he said casually. Y/n groaned, burying her face in her hands. “dad, please…” He laughed, low and soft. “It’s not teasing. I’m just saying… he seems like someone who’s willing to put in the effort. And if he’s making you smile like you were earlier then that’s more than enough for me to keep the door open.”

Y/n peeked up from her hands, eyes wide. “Really?”

Mr. Oh nodded. “You’ll figure out the rest. I trust you.”

She sat back, quiet for a moment, letting that sink in. Her gaze drifted back toward the kitchen, where Anton and her mom were now wiping down the counter together, still caught in some shared joke.

He really was trying. Not in some loud, performative way but in the ways that mattered. And for once, there wasn’t a strange pressure in her chest. Just a light, fluttering warmth. Beside her, her dad leaned back again. “You’ve got good instincts, Y/n. Just remember to trust them.” And as the night moved on, and Anton re-entered the living room with a bashful “Do you guys need help with anything else?”, Y/n just smiled at him genuine and full.

Maybe it really was that simple.

— The air was cool and crisp, the faint scent of grass and pavement after a warm day still clinging to the breeze. As the front door clicked shut behind them, Anton turned with a bright smile, thanking Mr. and Mrs. Oh once again.

“Thank you for dinner, truly,” Anton said, bowing politely. “I had an amazing time it was really nice.”

“You’re welcome anytime,” Mrs. Oh beamed. “Especially if you keep helping in the kitchen like that. Get home safely.” before making her way back inside of the house.

Mr. Oh gave a single nod of approval. “Let’s get you home, it’s getting late.” Anton opened his mouth to politely decline again, but Mr. Oh raised a hand to cut him off. “I insist. You’re our guest,” he said, voice firm but kind. Anton blinked, then nodded in agreement. “Then I’ll take you up on it.”

“I’ll come too,” Y/n said suddenly, casually, but with a hint of urgency in her voice. Mr. Oh raised a brow. Anton glanced at her with a soft smile before nodding. As they stepped out into the front yard, a familiar voice called out from just across the way.

“Beautiful night, right?”

All three of them turned their heads in unison.

Eunseok stood a few steps from his front gate, his parents by his side, dressed up from what was clearly their family dinner. The porch light behind him cast his silhouette in a soft glow, but even from that distance, his gaze was fixed straight on Y/n and Anton.

Y/n felt her heart pause.

She tried to return the smile, but it came out faint, unsure. Anton offered a polite nod and smile of his own, while Mr. Oh gave a cheerful wave. “Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Song! Good evening,” Mr. Oh greeted.

“Good evening,” Eunseok’s father said with a warm smile, stepping forward for a brief exchange.

While the adults made small talk discussing the new grocery store that opened downtown or the upcoming neighborhood clean-up day Anton leaned slightly toward Y/n.

“You sure you don’t want the front seat?” he asked softly, nodding at the car.

“I’ll sit with you,” she said just as softly, trying to keep her tone light. “It's not a long drive.”

Anton nodded, and without hesitation, opened the back door for her. He held one arm over the car frame instinctively as she stepped in a small, protective gesture that made her pause for just a beat. It wasn’t flashy, but it was thoughtful.

She slid into the seat, murmuring a quiet thank you as he gently closed the door behind her. Mr. Oh, glancing back for a second, caught the motion. He didn’t say anything but his eyes did linger for a moment longer than usual before finishing the conversation with Eunseok's parents, making his way to the car.

Eunseok’s mother, happened to glance over too. A flicker of recognition crossed her face as she spotted Anton walking around the car to the other side, opening his door and settling in next to Y/n.

“I didn’t know they were that close,” she said gently, mostly to herself, but Eunseok who had been standing quietly, hands tucked in his pockets definitely heard it. His eyes trailed back to the car, to the silhouette of Y/n laughing quietly inside as Anton said something to her. The way she leaned slightly toward him. —

The gentle hum of the car engine was the only sound filling the cabin as the streetlights passed in a rhythm outside the windows. The conversation between Mr. Oh and Anton had faded after the first minute—small talk about school and the weather giving way to a comfortable silence.

Mr. Oh glanced up into the rearview mirror out of habit, eyes flicking briefly to the backseat. He blinked, then softened.

Y/n, curled up slightly, had her head resting gently on Anton’s shoulder, her features relaxed in sleep. Her hair fell slightly over her face, shifting with each breath. Anton didn’t move or flinch he sat completely still, his body slightly tilted so she could rest comfortably against him. His gaze was out the window, watching the street go by, his expression unreadable… but not cold. Just quiet. Present.

Mr. Oh studied the scene for another few seconds. There was something about it—innocent, yet telling. Anton’s hand wasn’t anywhere near her. He wasn’t doing anything to draw attention. He just let her rest. And Mr. Oh could tell: the boy respected her.

He returned his eyes to the road, a quiet puff of breath escaping his nose in something like acknowledgment. Approval, even.

“You live near the old library, right?” Mr. Oh asked gently, not wanting to disturb Y/n but curious if Anton would respond in the same tone.

Anton’s gaze broke from the window and met Mr. Oh’s eyes in the mirror. He nodded. “Yes, sir. Two streets down from it, actually.”

“Ah,” Mr. Oh hummed, turning the wheel. “My brother used to take us there when we were kids. It's barely hanging on these days, but it's got charm.”

Anton smiled at that. “It really does.”

Another moment passed, the tires rolling steadily over the road. Mr. Oh glanced at them one more time Y/n’s hand had slid slightly onto Anton’s arm, still asleep. Anton hadn’t moved an inch. He simply looked forward now, his posture careful, like he didn’t want to wake her.

The father said nothing. But he was watching. Not with suspicion, not with hostility, just a quiet, thoughtful awareness only a father could have. Observing the boy his daughter had brought into their home for dinner, who helped clean the kitchen, who made her laugh at the table, and now… who sat still so she could rest after what must’ve been an exhausting day.

The car turned the final corner, slowing as they approached Anton’s street. “She’s a light sleeper,” Mr. Oh said casually, as if offering a cue. Anton looked down at Y/n, a soft look crossing his face before he nodded. “I’ll be gentle.”

Mr. Oh smiled to himself at that. The car came to a gentle stop along the curb. Anton leaned just slightly toward Y/n. “Y/n…” he whispered, his voice low and smooth. “We’re here.”

She stirred, brows furrowing slightly, before she blinked herself awake. The confusion in her eyes lasted only a second before she realized where she was, sitting up slowly.

“Sorry,” she murmured sleepily, rubbing her eyes. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” Anton said with a small smile. “You were tired.” Y/n looked out the window, realizing they were on Anton’s street. Mr. Oh turned back partially in his seat. “Want to walk him to the door?” Y/n nodded. “If that’s okay.”

They both stepped out into the cool night air. Anton walked beside her up the short path to his front door. “Thanks for tonight,” he said, pausing. “Your family is… really kind.”

“They like you,” Y/n said, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Especially my mom. She’s probably already planning what dessert to serve next time.” Anton chuckled. “I like them too. It felt... warm.” There was a small silence before he added, more hesitantly, “You looked peaceful… when you fell asleep.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed a little. “Sorry about that.”

“I didn’t mind,” he said, his voice softer now. “I didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to wake you.”

Her eyes met his for a long moment before she smiled again gentle, tired, but sincere.

“Goodnight, Anton.”

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

She turned and jogged back to the car, sliding in just as Mr. Oh glanced over.

“Still alive?” he joked lightly.

Y/n nodded with a small laugh, buckling her seatbelt again.

“He’s sweet,” Mr. Oh said casually as he began driving off. “Polite. A little nervous.”

Y/n smiled to herself, eyes fixed on the blur of streetlights passing by.

“…Yeah,” she murmured. “He is.”

— Y/n stirred groggily, a sleepy groan escaping her lips just before—

Whack.

A pillow collided with her face. "Yah!" she gasped, sitting up in bed with a scowl, only to see Eunseok standing beside her bed with another pillow in hand, looking more amused than apologetic.

“I’ve been calling your name for five minutes. You sleep like a rock,” he said, tossing the pillow back onto the bed as he plopped down at the edge. Y/n rubbed at her eyes sluggishly, trying to adjust to the light coming through her window. Her voice was scratchy with sleep. “What time is it?”

“Late enough that I got bored waiting. We said breakfast, remember?” He nudged her with his foot. “You’re lucky I didn’t dump cold water on you.”

She glared, too tired to form a proper threat. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Me?” he gasped mockingly.

Y/n groaned, dragging herself out of bed. “Out. Shower time.”

Eunseok held his hands up in mock surrender, standing. “Fine, fine. Try not to fall asleep standing up.” Once he was out of the room, she shut the door behind him and rushed through her shower, the warm water helping shake off the last remnants of sleep. Her muscles ached slightly, and that dull cramp still lingered in her lower abdomen but nothing she couldn’t push through.

Downstairs, the low hum of conversation greeted her Eunseok and Sion were already halfway through debating some game strategy, their voices echoing through the living room as she padded in, hair damp and tucked behind her ears.

Y/n grabbed a coffee cup from the cabinet and filled it, sighing softly as the warm mug pressed into her hands. She walked over and sank into the chair next to Eunseok as Sion walked towards the kitchen, the smell of toast and scrambled eggs drifting in from the kitchen.

Her eyes met Eunseok’s briefly before she asked, “So… how was your family dinner?”

Eunseok glanced over at her, nodding as he chewed a bite of toast. “Surprisingly nice,” he said, swallowing. “It’s weird seeing them both at the table like that. Usually they’re long gone by the time I wake up until late at night. Yesterday was… different.”

“That’s good though, right?” she asked softly, fingers curling around the mug. “Spending time with them.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, nudging her arm lightly with his elbow . “But I missed breakfast here. Sion was about to eat my share.” “I was not!” Sion shouted from the kitchen. Y/n laughed, relaxing into the familiarity of the moment. Eunseok took a sip of his juice, then tilted his head, looking at her. “You feeling better?”

“Mostly,” she nodded. “Still a little crampy, but I’ll live.”

“Chocolate emergency stash?” he asked, raising a brow.

She smiled tiredly. “Anton brought me some yesterday. He’s observant like that.” Something flickered in Eunseok’s eyes for the briefest second but he just nodded slowly, covering it with a short exhale through his nose as if it were nothing.

“Guess I’m not the only one who knows your weakness, huh?”

“You were the original supplier,” she teased back.

“That’s right,” he grinned. “Can’t forget your roots.”

Mrs. Oh soon appeared from the kitchen with a fresh plate of eggs and fruit, placing it in the middle of the table. “Eat up, you two. Sion’s trying to swipe the leftovers already.”

“Lies!” came Sion’s voice again, causing everyone to laugh.

Y/n leaned forward, reaching for a piece of toast as she exchanged a look with Eunseok one of those unspoken, quietly warm glances they shared often. They might have had new people weaving their way into their lives, new rhythms and moments... but this? The easy banter, the comfort of shared silence and coffee and Sunday mornings it was still theirs.

— The morning chill clung to the air as Eunseok and Y/n made their way to the bus stop, their footsteps echoing lightly against the pavement. The usual banter between them continued like a familiar melody easy, warm, with undertones of deep comfort that had been built over the years.

“You should honestly hire me as your human alarm clock,” Eunseok said, stretching his arms behind his head with a smug grin. “At this rate, I deserve a salary.”

“More like fired for workplace harassment,” Y/n shot back, stifling a yawn. “Who throws a pillow at someone to wake them up?”

“You’re just mad because I caught you drooling,” he teased, nudging her with his elbow.

“I don’t drool,” she muttered under her breath, face already heating up. “And you need to learn about boundaries.”

But her voice lacked bite it was all part of the routine. The quiet little battles, the teasing jabs, the way they circled each other with ease. It grounded her, especially on a morning where everything inside her felt slightly unbalanced.

As they approached the bus stop, the bus arrived right that moment. Eunseok and Y/n got in and were walking to the end of the bus for their seat.

Her eyes were drawn to the seat near the door—the same one where she’d sat yesterday with Anton. It was strange, how something as mundane as a seat could stir up so much in her.

The memory flashed across her mind: The way the bus jerked suddenly. The protective reflex of Anton’s arm stretching across her without hesitation. The chocolate bar tumbling from her fingers. The sound of his voice, low and steady, whispering, “That was close.” The look in his eyes when she turned to him.

Y/n pressed her lips together, and for some reason, she felt her cheeks flush with warmth again. It wasn’t just gratitude anymore it hadn’t been, not for a while now. She caught herself fidgeting with the strap of her bag.

Am I... starting to catch feelings for Anton?

She blinked hard, trying to shake the thought loose. Before she could dwell any further, Eunseok’s hand curled gently around her wrist and tugged her toward their usual seat. “Earth to Y/n. Don’t stand around like a lost duck.”

Startled, she let him pull her along, her heartbeat still tangled in thoughts she wasn’t ready to name. They barely sat down before the bus driver huffed loudly from the front.

“Thank you!” he called out, irritation clipped in his tone. “Some of us are on a schedule.”

Y/n flinched slightly. “Ah—sorry!” she apologized sheepishly, the other passengers glancing back briefly before returning to their morning grogginess. Beside her, Eunseok looked amused. He leaned in, poking her cheek once with his index finger. “Okay, seriously. What’s up with you today? You’ve been zoning out since breakfast.”

Y/n pushed his hand away with a soft smack, eyes narrowing playfully. “Just tired. It’s the cramps, remember?” He made a dramatic wince, clutching his stomach as if in sympathy. “I told you chocolate for breakfast was a good idea.”

Despite herself, Y/n smiled. He always knew how to chip away at her mood, even on the worst days. The bus ride rolled on quietly, the hum of the engine and the faint music leaking from someone’s earbuds filling the silence. She glanced out the window, letting the soft morning light settle on her skin, her thoughts already drifting again—back to Anton.

To the way he looked at her when she was talking. To how careful he was with her, without making a big show of it. To the way her name sounded in his voice.

She shook her head. Get a grip, she told herself. The moment the bus pulled up at their campus, students started pouring out. Y/n and Eunseok stepped off with the stream, and she quickly spotted her group of friends waiting near the front gates, half-awake and fully unimpressed with the day already.

“Morning,” Yunjin greeted, stretching her arms toward the sky. “You guys took forever.”

“Blame her,” Eunseok said, jerking his thumb at Y/n before heading off toward his group of guy friends waiting farther up the walkway.

“You’re such a traitor,” Y/n called after him.

Somi flopped dramatically onto a nearby bench. “Guys, guess what? Our first two periods are cancelled. Teachers just bailed.”

Winter rolled her eyes, her sweatshirt sleeves covering half her hands. “Could’ve emailed us. I could’ve stayed in bed.”

“Should we just go hang at the library?” Ryujin offered, already pulling out her phone. “Better than freezing out here.”

As the girls debated where to go, Y/n’s gaze instinctively drifted. And there he was. Anton.

Standing a little ways away with his friends Sungchan, Wonbin, and Shotaro and Eunseok laughing about something. The sun hit his hair just right, and his laugh was the kind that made the people around him smile.

He looked over, eyes locking with hers.

Time paused. He lifted his hand in a small, easy wave. It was casual, but intentional. Just for her. Y/n’s lips parted slightly before she returned the wave, heart picking up just a little.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Ryujin slowly turning toward her with the slow, knowing grin of someone who’d just witnessed everything.

“You waved back,” Ryujin said, grinning wider now.

Winter leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Was that… Anton?”

“Ohhhhhh,” Somi gasped dramatically. “That wave.”

Y/n tried to keep her cool. She failed.

“I mean—it was just a wave,” she muttered, looking away. “People wave.”

Yunjin leaned in closer. “People don’t look like that when they wave, Y/n. That boy looked at you like he’s been waiting for an excuse all morning.”

Y/n groaned, covering her face with both hands. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you anything.”

“But you did,” Somi sang. “And now we’re fully invested.”

“I think I like him,” Y/n admitted softly, voice almost drowned by the wind.

The girls stopped. And then came the squeals, the clapping, the bouncing on the heels of excitement. Even Ryujin, who usually played it cool, couldn’t hold back her delight.

“Finally!” Somi whispered like it was some long-awaited prophecy. Y/n could only laugh helplessly, cheeks burning. And from a few feet away, Anton who hadn’t looked away once watched her laugh. Really laugh. His smile grew.

But not everyone was smiling.

Farther across the walkway, against the campus fence, Eunseok turned his head at the sound of the girls' laughter. He saw her again. The soft, flushed expression on her face. But this time, it wasn’t directed at him.

And for the first time in a while, something inside him sank a little deeper. He tore his gaze away, stuffing his hands into his pockets. But the echo of her laugh her real, glowing laugh lingered longer than he expected.

— The library was unusually quiet, even for a weekday morning. With most of the school still scrambling to process the news of two canceled classes, it seemed only the truly sleep-deprived or academically motivated had wandered into the dim, wood-shelved sanctuary.

Y/n and her friends took their usual corner near the back where the sunlight from the tall windows filtered softly through the dust-flecked air, casting a warm glow across the wooden table. Winter slumped into her chair with a yawn while Somi eagerly leaned forward, practically buzzing with energy.

“Alright, Y/n,” Somi whispered, eyes gleaming. “Spill.”

Yunjin leaned her elbows on the table with a raised brow. “Yes, please. When exactly did this ‘I think I like him’ thing start? Because you’ve been suspiciously quiet about Anton for weeks.”

Ryujin gave Y/n a look from behind her book. “Start from the beginning. Don’t skip anything.”

Y/n groaned, covering her face with both hands. “Why did I say anything.”

“Because we’re your best friends and we live for this,” Winter said bluntly, her head now resting on her arms as she peeked up. “Now talk.”

Y/n let out a deep sigh, removing her hands from her face. She couldn’t help but smile though. “Okay, okay. I don’t even know when it started, honestly. But I think... it really started with the project.” Somi narrowed her eyes. “The one he asked to do together with you?”

Y/n nodded.

“I remember,” Ryujin said. “You even tried to playfully trade partners with me. Rude.”

Y/n said with a small laugh. “He actually came prepared. He read the chapters in advance, took notes, even had ideas for how we could structure our presentation.”

“Anton?” Winter blinked. “Our Anton?”

Y/n smiled wider. “I know. I didn’t expect it either.”

Yunjin tilted her head. “So that’s when the slow burn began?”

Y/n thought for a moment. “It was little things. We’d meet at cafés or study at the library—just the two of us. And he’d always remember how I took my coffee, or bring snacks without asking, or wait for me if I ran late. And then... he started walking me home.”

Somi’s mouth fell open. “Wait, wait—that’s how it started?”

“Kind of,” Y/n said. “I mean, it didn’t feel like anything big at the time. He’d just say something like, ‘You shouldn’t walk alone, it’s late.’ That sort of thing. But then I realized I was looking forward to it. To just… talking with him.”

Ryujin leaned forward. “Okay, but when did you know? That it wasn’t just friendship?” Y/n hesitated, picking at the corner of a book on the table. Her voice was softer now. “I think… last night.”

That made all four heads snap up in unison.

“What happened last night?” Winter whispered, eyes wide.

Y/n chuckled at the chorus of eager faces. “He came over for dinner. My dad really wanted to meet him, and Anton offered to help in the kitchen afterward. He was just… really natural with my family. My mom adores him, my brother actually talked to him. Even my dad, who’s usually stone-faced, smiled.”

Somi gasped. “That means something.”

Y/n nodded slowly. “Yeah. But it wasn’t just that. On the way to take him home, we ran into Eunseok and his parents outside.”

“Oof,” Yunjin winced.

“Tell me about it,” Y/n muttered. “It was weird. Like, I didn’t even know how to feel. But then Anton opened the car door for me—he did that thing where he held his hand above my head so I wouldn’t bump it. And he didn’t say anything about Eunseok, didn’t act weird. Just... normal. Calm. Like I was the only thing he was focused on.”

The girls let out a collective awww, much to Y/n’s embarrassment.

“And then this morning,” she added, her voice turning quieter, “I caught myself thinking about how he stopped me from falling when the bus braked yesterday. I couldn’t get it out of my head.”

“Girl,” Somi whispered, clutching her chest. “You’re done for.”

“You like him,” Winter confirmed, sitting up straighter. “Like like-like him.” Y/n gave a tiny nod, cheeks flushed but smiling. “I think I do.”

There was a beat of silence before Yunjin broke it. “So… what about Eunseok?”

The name felt like a small stone dropped in a still lake. Y/n looked down at her hands. “I don’t know. Eunseok is... complicated. We’ve known each other forever. He feels like home. But lately, with Anton—it feels like I’m waking up to something new.”

The girls didn’t speak right away. The sound of pages turning in the far side of the library filled the space for a moment.

Then Ryujin gave a small, knowing smile. “Maybe it’s okay to outgrow parts of home. Doesn’t mean you lose it—it just means you’re growing.” Somi reached over and gently squeezed Y/n’s hand. “Whatever happens next, we’ve got you.”

“Yeah,” Winter added, softer now. “And no matter what, you deserve someone who sees you.”

Y/n smiled again, the tension in her chest loosening just a little more. As they leaned in, laughing and whispering about what Anton might be doing right now or whether they should text him anonymously to confess Y/n’s feelings.

Later That Day – Lunchtime

The bell rang, echoing through the hallways like a call to arms. The once sleepy campus was suddenly alive again with footsteps, chatter, and the occasional groan of students who remembered they still had two more periods to endure.

Y/n and her friends exited the library, the sun now beaming down a little stronger than it had in the morning. As they made their way to the cafeteria, the air felt a little different. Lighter. Y/n walked at the center of the group, quietly smiling to herself, her fingers brushing against the side of her jeans where her phone sat in her pocket. She hadn’t messaged Anton—not yet, but his presence was still lingering in her mind.

They turned the corner and entered the bustling cafeteria.

Their usual table was already half full—with Eunseok, Shotaro, Sungchan, and Anton seated, chatting and laughing at something on Sungchan’s phone. Eunseok, leaning back casually in his chair, glanced up when he spotted the girls approaching. His gaze flickered quickly to Y/n. His expression didn’t change. Not outwardly.

But he saw it. That tiny smile she had on her lips. That slight glow in her cheeks. And he noticed how her eyes went straight to Anton first.

Anton stood up slightly, waving a hand to the girls to take their usual seats, pulling out a chair beside him out of instinct. Ryujin raised a brow as she slid into the seat on his other side while Y/n hesitated for a beat before sitting down next to him. Eunseok shifted slightly, scooting to the side without saying a word, giving her more space—but not saying much else.

Lunch started off normal.

Conversations about classes, random memes, complaints about teachers. But the undercurrent was different.

Especially when Somi, who never knew how to whisper discreetly, leaned slightly across the table and said, “So, Anton, you doing anything this weekend?” Anton glanced up from his tray, quirking a brow. “Uh, not really. Why?”

“No reason,” she sang with a not-so-subtle glance at Y/n.

Eunseok’s fork paused mid-air. Anton gave a small, nervous chuckle, not quite sure what game they were playing. “I mean… I was thinking of watching that new horror movie—”

“She hates horror,” Eunseok said suddenly, voice calm but cutting slightly through the noise. Everyone looked at him. Y/n blinked. “That was… random.”

Eunseok shrugged, eyes on his food. “Just saying. You always cover your face halfway through the trailer. Can’t imagine you surviving two hours in a theater.”

Anton smiled softly, eyes flicking to Y/n. “Then maybe we’ll watch something else, if you're free?”

After Lunch – Courtyard

As the students dispersed, Y/n decided to walk off some of the weird tension that had crept in during lunch. She told the girls she’d catch up with them before the next class and wandered toward the side courtyard where few students sat under shady trees.

She was halfway through reading a message from her mom when she heard footsteps behind her.

“Hey.”

She turned. Eunseok. She smiled faintly. “Hey.” He scratched the back of his neck. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, surprised. “Why?”

“You were a little… quiet. At lunch.”

Y/n gave a light shrug. “I guess I was just thinking.” A pause.

“You and Anton seem close lately,” he said, not looking directly at her. Y/n froze for a moment, unsure how to answer. “We’ve been spending time together. The project helped.”

Eunseok nodded, the silence stretching between them like a rubber band, taut and ready to snap. “I didn’t know you liked horror movies,” he said suddenly.

“I don’t,” she replied, confused.

He nodded again, slower this time. Y/n shifted her weight. “Why does it matter?” He looked up at her “It doesn’t,” he lied with a smile. “Just making conversation.” She stared at him for a moment longer, heart tugging in some direction she wasn’t sure she wanted to name. But before either could say anything more, the warning bell rang, jolting them both back to the moment.

“Come on, let’s not be late,” she said, walking ahead.

Eunseok followed, stuffing his hands into his pockets, eyes lingering on the back of her head—wondering when exactly the space between them had gotten so wide. And if he was too late to close it.

—

Saturday Evening — Movie Night

Y/n stood in front of the mirror in her room, fidgeting with the loose sleeves of her soft cardigan. She wasn’t dressed up, but she wasn’t exactly in her usual casual clothes either. Something about tonight felt different and no matter how many times she told herself it was just a movie with a friend, her stomach fluttered like it didn’t believe her.

A soft ding from her phone.

Anton: just got off the bus! Be at your place in 5 :)

She grabbed her bag and headed downstairs. Her mom, seated on the couch with a warm drink, glanced up with a knowing smile.

“You look nice,” she said gently.

“It’s not a date,” Y/n replied immediately — but her mom only raised an eyebrow and took another sip.

Before Y/n could escape out the door, her dad called from the kitchen, “Tell Anton to bring you home safely. And if you watch something scary, you better not sneak into your brother’s room again at 2 a.m.”

“Dad!”

But the laughter followed her out the door. True to his word, Anton stood just outside the gate, hands tucked in his coat pockets. When he looked up and saw her, he smiled in that boyish way of his that always made her forget the cold.

“You ready?” he asked.

Y/n nodded, walking beside him toward the bus stop. “Don’t pick something I’ll regret watching.”

“No promises,” he teased, nudging her shoulder. “But I brought emergency chocolate just in case.”

At the Theater

The lobby buzzed with students and groups of friends huddled in corners, deciding on snacks and taking pictures by the posters. Anton led the way to the counter, ordering their tickets with ease before Y/n could even reach into her bag.

“I was going to—”

“I know,” Anton said, handing her the ticket. “But I invited you. So tonight’s on me.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. Once inside, the lights dimmed as the trailers began, and they settled into their seats side by side, a single bag of popcorn between them. The movie wasn’t full-on horror, thankfully, more of a spooky thriller with jump scares and mysterious sound design that kept the tension crawling beneath their skin. Midway through the film, a particularly loud moment made Y/n jolt, her fingers instinctively reaching for the armrest—

But they landed on Anton’s hand. She froze. So did he.

Neither of them moved for a few seconds, and the sound of the movie seemed distant all of a sudden. Then, slowly, Anton shifted his hand slightly so their fingers were aligned, not tangled — but clearly touching.

And still… she didn’t move away.

The rest of the movie played on, and Y/n found herself far less focused on the screen and more on the warmth of his hand and the way it made her feel less on edge.

After the Movie — The Walk Home

The streets were quieter than usual. A low breeze whispered through the trees lining the sidewalks, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and cold air, wrapping itself around Y/n and Anton as they strolled side by side under the soft, golden glow of the streetlights.

Neither of them said anything at first.

Not because there wasn’t anything to say but because the silence between them felt oddly comforting. Like something sacred was unfolding in the space between their footsteps and stolen glances.

Y/n adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, the fabric of her coat brushing against Anton’s arm briefly. The warmth of the movie theater had faded, but her skin still tingled not from the cold, but from the lingering memory of his fingers lightly brushing hers during the film.

She hadn’t meant to grab his hand. And yet, the moment she did… she hadn’t wanted to let go.

Anton, walking slightly slower than usual to match her pace, kept his hands stuffed into his coat pockets. But he kept glancing at her. Not obviously just little looks when he thought she wouldn’t notice. The kind of look you give someone when your thoughts are louder than your words.

Eventually, he cleared his throat, the sound soft. “You really did get scared, huh?” Y/n smiled, the corners of her lips tugging up without much effort. “I told you I hate jump scares.”

“I offered rom-coms,” he teased gently, nudging her shoulder.

“And I said I wasn’t in the mood to cry over fake couples with perfect lives.” Anton laughed it was low, genuine, and it echoed just a little in the quiet night. “Fair.”

A moment passed. Y/n glanced over at him, hugging her arms a little tighter across her chest, as if the chill had finally reached her. “You really don’t get scared during horror movies?”

Anton shook his head slowly, still smiling. “Not really. But tonight…” he hesitated, thoughtful. “I guess I was too distracted.” Y/n’s heart gave a small flutter. “…Distracted?”

He looked at her again, this time not looking away. “Yeah,” he said simply. “You kept hiding your face behind the popcorn. I barely caught half the movie.”

She gave him a look half embarrassed, half playful and tried to scoff, but it came out as a quiet laugh. “So, it’s my fault now?”

Anton just shrugged, eyes still on her. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” Y/n stopped walking for just a beat, heart caught in her throat but she recovered quickly, brushing some hair behind her ear as they reached the familiar curve in the street that led toward her house.

They walked in sync, their hands brushing every now and then, but not holding. It was quiet, and comfortably so. But something was different now. Thicker. Like the air had changed. Y/n stopped in front of her gate, turning to face him. Anton stood with his back half-turned toward the street, one hand still in his pocket, the other scratching the back of his neck as he looked at her — truly looked at her, like he was trying to memorize this version of her under the stars.

“Thanks for tonight,” Y/n said, her voice softer now. “It was… fun.”

“It was,” he agreed, eyes fixed on her. “Honestly, I didn’t want it to end just yet.”

Y/n looked down at her shoes.

Something about his tone made her heart beat unevenly.

And then like the universe wasn’t already playing games with her — the front door creaked open.

Sion’s voice broke through the stillness: “Mom says don’t stay outside too long, it’s cold!”

“Okay!” Y/n called back, groaning under her breath. “He’s worse than a security camera.”

Anton chuckled, eyes still fond. “Guess that’s my cue.”

He started to turn, but then paused turning back toward her slightly, something on the edge of his lips. A question maybe. A confession. Something unspoken.

But then the door creaked again.

“Tell Anton to get home safe!” her mom’s voice called.

Anton gave a small bow toward the house and then glanced back at Y/n.

“See you Monday?”

She nodded, slowly. “Yeah. Monday.”

There was something hanging in the air like static as he turned to walk away, hands deep in his pockets, head slightly down. Y/n stood at the gate, watching him take each step further down the sidewalk.

Then — something made her glance to the house next door.

Eunseok.

His figure stood in the second-floor window of his room, barely visible behind the sheer curtain. But she saw him.

And she knew he saw her.

His gaze was still. unreadable. But it lingered. Her heart twisted a little at the sight — not in confusion, but in understanding.

Something was changing.

The Next Day – Girls' Day at Winter’s House

The soft hum of music played in the background of Winter’s bedroom, blending with the occasional bursts of laughter and the rustling of snack bags. The air was thick with the scent of vanilla-scented candles, popcorn, and face masks a staple for their weekend hangouts.

Y/n sat cross-legged on the floor near the bed, her hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands as she slowly peeled an orange. Winter was sprawled out on her stomach on the bed, legs swinging back and forth in the air while scrolling on her phone. Somi was perched near the window, painting her nails with intense concentration, and Yunjin and Ryujin were sitting side by side on the plush rug, flipping through a photo album from middle school that Winter had pulled out for laughs. It was one of those days that felt like a deep breath. No school. No assignments. No boys.

Well — that was the idea… until Somi broke the silence.

“So…” she started, not even bothering to look up from her nails. “Are you gonna tell us what happened last night or are we supposed to guess?”

Y/n looked up, blinking. “What?”

“Oh come on,” Winter said, rolling onto her back dramatically. “The movie night? With Anton? The very one you didn’t tell us was basically a date until we saw your story this morning with the ticket stubs and caption ‘fun night.’ What’s with the vagueness?”

“I second that,” Ryujin chimed in, a mischievous smirk on her face. “Fun night? That could mean anything from watching a horror movie to eloping in Vegas.”

Yunjin giggled. “I bet she held his hand when the ghost popped out.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed instantly, and she looked down at the orange in her lap. Winter sat up immediately. “OH MY GOD YOU DID.”

“I—no—okay, maybe a little.”

“AHHHHH!” the entire room erupted with squeals and chaos, Winter hitting her pillow in excitement while Somi dropped her nail polish brush onto a paper towel to turn and fully face Y/n.

Ryujin covered her face with both hands. “You’re not denying it. You totally had a moment.” Y/n sighed, trying (and failing) to hide her smile. “Okay, yes. I got scared, and I kind of… grabbed his hand without thinking.”

“And did he, I don’t know, rip it away? Push you into the aisle? Pretend he didn’t know you?” Yunjin teased.

“No!” Y/n laughed.

The room exploded again. Winter clutched a pillow to her chest. “That’s it. That’s not just a ‘movie moment.’ That’s a spark.”

Y/n smiled sheepishly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “It didn’t feel awkward. It just… felt natural.”

There was a short pause as the girls looked at one another with raised brows. The girls went quiet for a moment, letting her words linger. Yunjin leaned her head against Ryujin’s shoulder, sighing dramatically. “I want a bus moment.”

Winter grinned. “You want a bus and a movie moment. You want the whole Netflix Original arc.”

“I’m just saying,” Ryujin said, pretending to write notes in the air, “if a boy saves my chocolate bar from flying across a bus floor, I’m proposing.”

They all burst into laughter again, the atmosphere thick with warmth, mischief, and genuine happiness for Y/n.

“Okay,” Somi said, clearing her throat. “But we need to know. How do you feel now? Is this, like… for real?”

Y/n looked down at her hands again, fingers curled loosely over the peeled orange slices.

“…I think I’m starting to really like him,” she admitted softly. “Not just a crush like. Like something deeper.”

Winter reached over and gently nudged her. “Well… maybe he’s been feeling the same this whole time.”

Y/n smiled but a small flicker of something unreadable crossed her face. Her mind drifted briefly, uninvited, to another smile. One that belonged to a boy who’d been by her side since they were kids. A boy who stood at his window last night, watching as she said goodbye to someone else.

“Y/n?” Somi asked.

“Hm?”

“You spaced out.”

“Sorry,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “Just tired.”

The girls let it go, returning to laughter and nail painting and arguments over which snack was superior — but that flicker inside Y/n stayed. Quiet. Lingering. Because even though her heart fluttered at the thought of Anton… There was still a piece of her wondering what was going on in Eunseok’s mind last night.

The girls were scattered around the room in different positions, now lounging with throw blankets, some half-heartedly scrolling on their phones, others lazily chatting about their favorite dramas.

“I swear, if one more K-drama ends with a random time skip and a beach wedding, I’m throwing my laptop out the window,” Somi declared, her hands flailing with dramatic frustration.

Ryujin snorted. “But you watched Nevertheless three times.”

“Exactly! I’m emotionally damaged.”

Winter laughed from her place at the edge of the bed, swinging her legs. “Lowkey though, I kind of want a K-drama life. Like, not the super angsty one, but… give me a cute friends-to-lovers trope with some forehead kisses and dramatic rainy confessions.”

“Ugh, YES,” Yunjin chimed in, throwing herself back onto a pillow. “Or the one where the guy hates everyone but her. Classic. I’d kill to live that storyline.”

“I’ll settle for someone saving me from a biker by yanking me into their arms,” Ryujin added with a dreamy sigh. “Why does that never happen in real life?”

They all giggled and groaned at once, caught in the giddy delusion of fantasy romance. Y/n smiled along, cheeks warm from laughing, when suddenly—

Ding.

A soft chime echoed from beside her. Her phone screen lit up with a new message. Winter was the first to glance at it. Her eyes widened with a knowing grin as she tilted the phone just slightly toward herself.

“Ohhhh… it’s a text from Anton~,” she sing-songed, dragging out his name in the most teasing tone imaginable. That one sentence was enough to ignite chaos.

Yunjin gasped and sat up straight. Somi made an unnecessarily loud squeal, even clapping once in excitement, and Ryujin half-jokingly reached for a pillow to throw. Y/n’s eyes widened as she quickly snatched the phone from Winter’s lap, “Give me that!”

The girls leaned in like a pack of excited children waiting for gossip.

“Well?!” Winter said, bouncing a little on the bed. “What did our Prince Charming say?”

Y/n glanced at the message, then at the group, cheeks already burning. “…He wants to hang out today.” Another explosion of squeals and giggles followed. “You HAVE to go!” Somi declared.

“Yes, go, go, go,” Ryujin added, already waving her hands like she was pushing Y/n out the door.

“But what about our plan—” Y/n started. “Y/n, girl, please,” Yunjin said, crawling over to her and flipping her hair. “We love you, but this is your leading lady moment. We can always rewatch Crash Landing on You, but this? This is the real stuff.”

Winter nodded sagely. “Exactly. We’re not losing you, we’re living through you.”

“I feel like I’m being peer pressured by a K-drama support cast,” Y/n mumbled, laughing nervously. Yunjin smirked, scooting closer. “Speaking of support cast — you gotta look pretty for him. Who knows, maybe you’ll make it official today~”

Before Y/n could even protest, Yunjin gently took her hair in hand and began fiddling with the strands. “This is what friends are for,” she said with faux seriousness. “Now, sit still.”

“Someone get my makeup bag,” Somi said, already crawling across the bed to grab her tote. “We’ll keep it light. Effortlessly pretty, like you just woke up glowing.”

Winter knelt beside Y/n too. “Do you want to borrow a jacket or something cute? You need layers. Layers scream I wasn’t trying too hard but I’m adorable anyway.”

“You guys are crazy,” Y/n laughed, even as she let Yunjin part her hair and Somi dabbed a bit of balm on her lips. “You love us,” Ryujin chimed from the side, now recording short clips of the chaos for their shared spam account. “I do,” Y/n admitted, heart full. “I really do.”

As the room buzzed with friendly teasing and warmth, Y/n’s heart fluttered in a very different way. The idea of seeing Anton again, just the two of them it suddenly felt more real than before. Maybe this wasn’t just a school project bond anymore. Maybe something was truly beginning to grow between them.

And as the girls fixed her hair, touched up her blush, and gave advice with far more enthusiasm than necessary, one thing was clear: This moment this sweet mess of friendship, laughter, and first feelings was something out of her own kind of drama. The kind that didn’t need scripts or camera cuts. Just real people. Real emotions. And a maybe-something that could turn into everything.

— Later That Day

After a whirlwind of outfit debates, soft makeup touch-ups, and a chorus of excited goodbyes, Y/n left Winter’s house with a fluttering stomach and a tote bag full of mixed emotions. The cool weekend breeze brushed against her cheeks as she walked down the familiar street toward the bus stop where Anton had said they’d meet.

She checked her phone again.

Anton: I’m here. Got here early… don’t ask why 😅

Y/n smiled to herself. Her pace picked up a little, her boots making soft sounds against the pavement. As she neared the stop, she spotted him tall, leaned back slightly against the glass side of the shelter, hands in the pockets of his jacket. The wind toyed with a few strands of his dark hair, and he looked up the moment he heard her approach. His face lit up in that familiar, gentle way. The way that made her chest tighten slightly.

“There you are,” Anton said with a crooked grin. “I was starting to think I got stood up.”

“You? You’d cry,” Y/n teased back as she came to stand beside him.

“I would,” he nodded seriously. “I’m very sensitive.”

They laughed naturally, easily like they’d been doing this forever.

The bus arrived not long after, and they sat together at the back, tucked into the corner of the seat. This time, Y/n didn’t feel awkward or nervous not like how she felt when she first started catching feelings. There was something calm about being beside Anton. Even when her heart was racing, it was a peaceful kind of fast.

“Where are we going exactly?” she asked as the bus pulled away.

“You’ll see,” he said, tone playful but unreadable.

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “If you kidnap me, I will fight you.”

Anton chuckled. “Noted. But… if I did kidnap you, I’d at least get snacks first.”

“That’s fair.”

The Hidden Spot

They got off at a smaller, quieter part of town a few blocks away from their usual haunts. Anton led her down a cobblestone path, between old brick buildings, until they turned a corner… and found themselves standing before a cozy, hidden little café tucked between two walls of ivy. The sign above the door read: Still Beans.

“Oh… this is adorable,” Y/n whispered, unable to hide her delight.

Anton scratched the back of his neck, smiling like he’d just won something. “I found it last summer. I was going to bring it up sooner, but… today felt like a good day.”

Inside, the café was warm, soft, and quiet. String lights dangled across the ceiling like starlight, and mismatched furniture filled the corners like a cozy museum of lived-in comfort. They took a table near the window, where sunlight poured in and made their drinks glow.

Y/n sipped her vanilla latte while Anton munched on a warm pastry. At first, they talked about light things — school gossip, weird teachers, the latest drama Winter was obsessed with. But eventually, the conversation shifted.

“I never asked…” Y/n started, picking at the edge of her napkin. “What made you choose me for that project? Back then.”

Anton looked up at her, blinking. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… we weren’t that close before. Just mutual friends, really. But you chose me. Why?”

Anton felt heat creep up his neck. “Honestly? I knew you were smart. And… you seemed calm. I thought we’d balance each other out.”

Anton gave her a soft smile. “Which we did.” They were both quiet for a moment. Not awkward just… thoughtful. It lingered in the air between them. “I’m glad you did,” Y/n added, voice lower now. “We wouldn’t be here otherwise.” making Anton smile more at her.

Y/n’s heart skipped. She stirred her drink, suddenly hyper-aware of the way his foot brushed lightly against hers under the table.

“…Me too,” he murmured.

Golden Hour Walk

After their café visit, they wandered outside just in time to catch golden hour. The sun was low, casting long shadows and painting the sky with streaks of orange and pink. They walked side-by-side down a park path, close enough that their hands occasionally bumped.

Neither of them pulled away.

“I’ve been thinking,” Anton said suddenly, staring ahead. “That night. On the bus.”

Y/n turned to look at him, waiting. “When it stopped suddenly, and I—uh—held you back.” He chuckled softly. “I didn’t even think. I just… I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want anything to happen to you.”

Y/n’s heart thudded at the memory. “It was sweet. And… it made me feel safe.” They both stopped walking, now near the edge of a quiet little pond. Anton turned to face her fully.

“I like being around you, Y/n,” he said, voice steadier than she expected. “Not just for the project. Not just as a friend. I think I’ve been feeling this way for a while.” The world was still. Only the sound of rustling leaves and distant laughter floated in the background.

“I… think I feel the same,” Y/n whispered.

He smiled, that warm, boyish smile that always made her stomach flutter. “Then… can I call this a date?” he asked. Y/n laughed, softly but surely. “Only if you promise there’ll be another one.” Anton reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Later That Evening.

They sat together again at the back of the bus, shoulders touching lightly. Y/n rested her head on his shoulder, and he didn’t move. If anything, he leaned in a little.

No words were needed. Everything had already been said. The bus rumbled softly beneath them, taking them home — and yet, for once, everything felt like it was just beginning.

A/N: Here is part 2, a little bit more focussed on the dynamic with Anton for this part! I hope you like it!

Word count : 15.8K Part 1. - Part 2. - Part 3.

[buff-bambiii]

My bestfriend chapter 2 plz

Working on it! ♡

[buff-bambiii]

Who is your riize bias?

Any other groups that you stan?

My riize bias are Eunseok and Sungchan!

Besides RIIZE being my ult ult group. Other groups that i stan are: NCT WISH, The Boyz, Aespa, Le Sserafim, IVE, ITZY, SEVENTEEN!

[buff-bambiii]

My Bestfriend — S. ES

Pairing : Female!Reader x Song Eunseok. Summary:

Oh Y/n and Song Eunseok have been inseparable since they were toddlers, growing up side by side in neighboring houses, their bond strengthened by the close friendship of their mothers. From chasing away bugs to bandaging scraped knees to protecting her from other mean classmates. Eunseok has always been Y/n’s quiet guardian — the one who stood between her and the world when it felt too loud.

Everything is thrown into question when things slowly started to change. Less time spend together.

Is she finally realizing that maybe… her best friend was never just her best friend?

“Y/n-ah! Wake up! Eunseok’s already here!”

Mrs. Oh’s voice rang from downstairs, followed by the faint clatter of dishes and the warm smell of grilled spam and eggs wafting into Y/n’s room. Groggily, she peeked from under her blanket, the morning light spilling through the half open curtains.

She sat up slowly, hair a mess of soft tangles, eyes still heavy with sleep. Today was the first day of university — a new beginning. And yet somehow, it still started just like any other morning.

From below, she could hear Eunseok’s voice — calm, casual, teasing her mom as he always did.

“He’s eating your breakfast if you don’t come down in five!” Mrs. Oh shouted again, and Y/n scrambled out of bed, muttering to herself, “He better not…”

Downstairs, Song Eunseok was already halfway through a plate of toast and eggs, grinning when he saw Y/n storm into the kitchen in oversized pajamas and socks that didn’t match.

“There she is,” he said, acting like he hadn’t just taken the last slice of spam. “Morning, princess.”

Y/n shot him a glare and slid into the seat beside him, rubbing her eyes. “Did you really eat the last piece?”

“I thought it was for me,” he replied, shrugging with zero guilt.

Mrs. Oh set another slice on Y/n’s plate with a knowing smile. “You’re lucky I made extra. And you,” she said, turning to Eunseok, “Stop stealing food. This isn’t your house.”

“Yes, it is,” Eunseok said with a wink, already sipping on his second cup of miso soup. “Right, mom?”

Mrs. Oh shook her head, laughing. “Aigoo… You’re worse than my actual kid.”

Y/n smiled quietly into her food. This .. the teasing, the warmth the familiarity — was how her mornings had always been. Eunseok was like the older brother she never had… except he wasn’t. He was something else entirely. Something harder to name.

After breakfast and Y/n getting dressed, they left the house together, Y/n still brushing her hair out of her face while Eunseok held her backpack for her.

“I can carry my own bag,” she grumbled.

“You looked like a bird’s nest exploded on your head five minutes ago,” he said, deadpan. “You’ve got bigger problems.”

“Yah!”

He laughed, effortlessly dodging her weak attempt to smack his arm.

They caught the bus to campus, sitting in their usual spot near the back. The ride was filled with Eunseok’s endless teasing and Y/n’s quiet attempts to defend herself — usually by rolling her eyes or crossing her arms while trying not to smile.

“I bet you were drooling in your sleep.” he said casually.

“I was not!”

“Your pillow says otherwise.”

She huffed, turning to look out the window, cheeks warm. “I should’ve left you at the table.”

“You’d miss me too much,” he replied smugly.

When they finally arrived at campus, the air buzzed with nervous energy. First-years shuffling around, some trying to look confident, others clearly lost. Y/n felt a little of both.

She and Eunseok made their way to the administration building to collect their class schedules. While waiting in line, Eunseok leaned against the wall beside her, scanning his phone.

“What if we’re not in the same classes?” she asked suddenly.

He glanced over. “We always are. Relax.”

But the moment they received their timetables, a frown tugged at Y/n’s lips.

“You’re in B3 for English… I’m in A1,” she murmured.

Eunseok looked at hers, comparing it with his. “Okay, so we don’t have English or Lit together. But we’ve still got lunch, right?”

“I guess,” she mumbled.

“Y/n, it’s not like I’m going off to the military.” he teased. “We’re still on the same campus.”

She nodded but couldn’t shake the unfamiliar feeling in her chest, a quiet fear of change. They’d always been in the same class since kindergarten. This was new... and new scared her a little.

While she was busy overthinking, someone bumped into her shoulder.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” Y/n said, startled as she stepped back.

The girl blinked, then smiled easily. “My bad! First-day chaos, right? I’m Shin Ryujin.”

Y/n bowed slightly, a bit shy. “Oh Y/n.”

Ryujin tilted her head. “Wait… you’re in A1 for English, right?”

Y/n nodded, surprised. “You too?”

“Yup! And Lit, History, and Korean Culture.”

“Oh… wow,” Y/n said, the nervousness ebbing slightly.

“Well, looks like we’re stuck together then,” Ryujin grinned. “Come on, want to find the classroom together?”

Y/n looked around, her eyes instinctively searching for Eunseok in the crowd, but he was nowhere to be seen. The hallway had grown busy — students rushing, calling out to friends, phones out, maps up.

She turned back to Ryujin and nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They moved with the crowd, Ryujin chatting easily about how she got lost three times already that morning. As they approached the classroom, three girls waved Ryujin over.

���Yunjin! Winter! Somi — this is Y/n,” Ryujin said. “She’s in our class.”

The girls offered warm greetings. Yunjin had a confident, sunny vibe; Winter seemed a bit quieter but observant; Somi immediately complimented Y/n’s backpack, and just like that, the awkwardness faded.

Y/n smiled softly. It wasn’t what she was used to, being around new people, new energy but maybe this wasn’t so bad.

As the bell rang and they all shuffled into class, Y/n took one last look behind her.

Still no sign of Eunseok.

It’s just one class, she told herself.

But something about not seeing him there, not having him nearby — it felt like the first crack in something she wasn’t ready to let go of yet.

— The classroom buzzed with the energy only a first day could bring — excited whispers, chairs scraping against the floor, papers rustling as students settled in. Y/n took a seat near the middle row, sandwiched between Ryujin and Yunjin, with Somi and Winter seated just behind them.

“Professor Baek is apparently super strict,” Yunjin whispered, leaning closer. “Like, don’t check your phone or die strict.”

“Oh great,” Ryujin muttered. “Guess I’ll have to stay awake.”

Y/n smiled softly. She hadn’t expected to feel at ease so soon, but there was something about these girls their effortless chatter, their easy inclusion that made the transition feel less overwhelming.

She opened her notebook and glanced at the empty seat near her, half expecting Eunseok to slide in late with that smug grin, tossing her a pen she forgot to bring.

But the chair stayed empty.

He’s not in this class, she reminded herself. Still, a small ache bloomed in her chest.

“Y/n,” Somi whispered behind her, tapping her shoulder. “Where are you from again?”

“Oh, I live about fifteen minutes from here,” she replied. “I grew up in the area.”

“Did you go to school nearby too?” Winter asked curiously.

“Yeah, I… I’ve always lived in the same neighborhood.”

Ryujin nudged her. “So you know all the good spots around here?”

Y/n chuckled. “Some. I guess I’m kind of boring that way.”

“Hey, we love boring if it includes knowing where to get the best late-night tteokbokki,” Ryujin grinned.

As class began, the professor’s stern demeanor confirmed Yunjin’s warning — Professor Baek was not one for small talk or leniency. He dove straight into the syllabus, assigning reading material with due dates and expectations before most students had even found the course title on their sheet.

Still, Y/n took diligent notes, her handwriting neat and organized. Her quiet concentration didn’t go unnoticed.

“You take notes like a perfectionist,” Yunjin whispered during a lull. “Can I copy yours if I zone out?”

Y/n blushed. “Um… sure.”

By the time class ended, the five of them were already talking about grabbing lunch together. Y/n hesitated at first, thinking maybe Eunseok was waiting somewhere — they had agreed to meet after the first class. But her phone showed no texts, no missed calls.

“He’s probably still in his own class,” she mumbled to herself.

“Your boyfriend?” Winter asked lightly as they exited the lecture hall.

“What? Oh—no. He’s just my best friend,” Y/n said quickly.

“Hmm,” Somi hummed, giving her a look. “You said that very fast.”

Ryujin raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got that ‘childhood best friends who might be secretly in love’ vibe.”

Y/n nearly choked on her water. “No! It’s not like that.”

“Sure, sure,” Yunjin grinned, linking arms with her. “We believe you… for now.”

They found a table outside near the campus lawn. Students sprawled under trees, eating lunchboxes, laughing over iced coffees. The late morning sun had chased away the chill, and the world felt alive, full of possibility.

As they ate, the girls swapped stories about their high schools, embarrassing moments, and the classes they were dreading. Y/n mostly listened at first, smiling at their jokes, occasionally chiming in. It felt easy. Not forced.

She hadn’t realized how much she needed this — her own space, her own circle.

She did glance at her phone once more, though. Still no message from Eunseok. No “Where are you?” or “Come meet me.” It was unlike him.

Then again… maybe he was adjusting too. Maybe he was finding his own people.

“Y/n,” Ryujin said, nudging her gently. “Earth to you. You okay?”

Y/n blinked. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“You always look like you’re deep in a drama when you space out like that,” Somi teased.

“Must be the main character energy,” Winter added with a small smirk.

Yunjin handed Y/n a piece of kimbap from her container. “Eat. Thinking’s dangerous when you haven’t had enough rice.” Y/n laughed softly and accepted it. Maybe university wasn’t so scary after all. And maybe, just maybe, it was okay to grow — even if that meant letting some things change.

As Y/n reached into her bag to look for her bottle of water, something suddenly cold touched the top of her head.

Startled, she looked up — only to find a familiar smirk looking down at her.

“Hydration,” Eunseok said casually, holding a cold can of soda and setting it atop her head like a crown.

Y/n blinked up at him, then smiled as she took it. “Where’d you come from?”

“B-classroom,” he said, shrugging. “I saw you from over there.”

He nodded toward a table across the lawn, where a group of guys were already waving him over laughing like they’d been friends forever even if today was their first day together on campus.

“I’m sitting with them,” he added, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Just wanted to check on you first.”

Y/n nodded, her smile still soft. “Thanks.”

He gave her a quick once-over making sure she looked okay, comfortable, not too overwhelmed then ruffled her hair, much to her horror.

“Eunseok!” she hissed, trying to fix it.

He just grinned. “Still looks like a bird’s nest.”

Before she could reply, he was already walking away, falling into his usual effortless stride. The moment he reached his table, the noise level around the boys doubled — easy banter, loud laughter, playful shoving.

“He’s cute,” Yunjin murmured, watching him with mild amusement before slowly turning back to Y/n. “You sure you two aren’t a thing?”

Y/n, mid-sip of her soda, nearly choked.

“We’re not,” she said quickly, coughing slightly. “Seriously.”

Winter raised a brow. “You seemed really natural together.”

Somi leaned forward, grinning. “Yeah. That whole ‘he-just-randomly-brings-you-a-drink-and-ruffles-your-hair-like-it’s-an-everyday-thing’ thing doesn’t happen between just friends.”

Y/n looked down at the can in her hands, trying to suppress the heat rising to her cheeks. “It’s not like that,” she said. “We just… grew up together. We’re neighbors — literally next door. Our moms are best friends, so we kind of had no choice.”

“That’s adorable,” Ryujin said, resting her chin in her palm. “You’re childhood besties and next door neighbors? Straight out of a slice-of-life drama.”

“I’m telling you,” Yunjin added. “At least one of you is in love with the other. I’ve read enough webtoons to know how this goes.”

Y/n shook her head, laughing nervously. “We’ve just always been close. Eunseok’s… like a habit. It’s always been the two of us. It’d be weird not to have him around.”

The girls exchanged knowing looks, but didn’t press further.

“Well,” Somi said, popping a grape into her mouth, “I’m just saying — if he ever does start seeing you differently, don’t pretend to be surprised. The guy basically soft-launched you just now.”

Y/n opened her mouth to argue, but Ryujin cut in before she could.

“You know what? Let’s make a deal. No more best-friend-boy talk today,” Ryujin announced. “Today, we celebrate surviving our first morning as adults.”

“I second that,” Winter said.

“Third,” Yunjin added. “We’re officially freshmen!”

As laughter bubbled up around her again, Y/n smiled and leaned back slightly, the soda still cool in her hands. Her eyes wandered to Eunseok’s table for just a second — he was laughing at something one of his friend said, his shoulders shaking the way they always did when something really got him.

Something inside her stirred. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t painful. But it was there.

Maybe it was just the first day jitters. Maybe she just missed the way things used to be. Or maybe… maybe some things were beginning to change.

And she wasn’t sure if she was ready.

— After lunch, the sun had risen higher, casting long shadows through the campus windows as the students filtered back into the lecture halls. The buzz of conversation had mellowed, giving way to the quiet lull of post-meal sleepiness.

Y/n walked back to class with Ryujin, Somi, Winter, and Yunjin, still laughing at a story Somi was telling about mistaking the chemistry lab for the dance studio during orientation. The comfort of new friendship surrounded her, yet her eyes instinctively scanned the hallway for a familiar face.

“Ugh, I already forgot what class this is,” Ryujin groaned, flipping open her schedule. “Oh, right. Media and Culture. I heard the professor’s cool.”

“Same classroom from this morning,” Yunjin added, already leading the way.

As the girls found their seats in the middle of the room, Y/n instinctively left the spot beside her open. It was a reflex — one that had been built over years of habit.

And just as the bell was seconds from ringing, the door opened again.

Eunseok walked in.

He looked relaxed as always, in a dark button-up and jeans, headphones still dangling around his neck. Behind him followed his usual crowd. Y/n’s eyes lit up briefly — she hadn’t known they’d be in the same class this period.

Before she could lift her hand or call out, a girl — tall, stylish, with glossy hair and an effortless confidence — stepped up to Eunseok and grabbed his arm.

“Sit with me,” she said playfully, tugging him toward a seat by the windows.

Eunseok looked surprised for half a second, glancing over his shoulder. His gaze found Y/n almost immediately.

She was still holding the empty seat beside her, her expression halfway between confusion and disappointment.

Eunseok mouthed a quick, “I’m sorry” with an apologetic shrug before being pulled down into the seat next to the girl.

Y/n blinked, lowering her hand slowly.

“Who’s that?” Ryujin leaned over and whispered.

Y/n gave a small smile, shaking her head. “No idea.” Somi, who had caught the whole interaction, exchanged a glance with Winter. “That looked… intentional.”

Yunjin turned slightly in her seat. “Well, she sure seemed confident.”

Y/n stared down at her notebook, suddenly hyper-aware of the dull ache building in her chest. It was silly — he hadn’t done anything wrong. He didn’t owe her a seat, or an explanation. But the image of someone else tugging him away so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world, left her feeling… displaced.

Like she’d just been quietly replaced.

As the lecture began, Y/n tried to focus on the slides. Ryujin passed her a note that read: “You okay?”

She nodded, scribbling back: “Yeah. Just tired.”

But she wasn’t just tired. She was realizing — maybe for the first time — that she and Eunseok weren’t going to be side by side all the time anymore.

Maybe growing up meant giving each other space.

Even if that space felt colder than she expected.

— The final bell of the day echoed through the hallways, signaling the end of their first official day of university life. Students stretched, packed their bags, and filed out in small groups, the hum of laughter and conversation echoing off the walls.

Y/n stayed behind for a moment, typing out a quick text to her mom:

Hey, I might be home a little later. Going out with some friends for a bit. Don’t worry! I Love you

The reply came a minute later:

OK. Have fun, sweetheart. I love you too.

Y/n smiled faintly and slipped her phone into her tote. She stood up, adjusting the strap on her shoulder, eyes instinctively searching the room for one person.

Eunseok.

He was still at his seat, half-turned in conversation with one of his friends, laughing at something. The girl who had tugged him into the seat earlier — still nameless to Y/n — was sitting beside him, scrolling through her phone. She looked up just as Y/n approached and gave her a polite smile.

It was the kind of smile Y/n couldn’t read — not warm, but not unfriendly either.

“Hey,” Y/n said, stopping by Eunseok’s desk.

He looked up. “You heading home?”

“Not yet,” she replied, glancing quickly at the girl. “I’m going to hang out with the girls for a bit. I just wanted to say you don’t have to walk me home today.”

“Same, actually,” he said, standing and stretching. “The guys wanna chill for a while. First day, y’know.”

She nodded, forcing a smile. “Cool.”

There was a moment — one of those quiet spaces that used to be filled with easy teasing or shared thoughts. But this time, Y/n couldn’t find anything to say.

Before she could speak again, Somi called from the doorway, “Y/n! You coming?”

“Be right there!” she called back.

Eunseok glanced over his shoulder as her friends waited. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said casually, reaching out to ruffle her hair.

Y/n swatted his hand away, her smile returning, softer this time. “Stop doing that.”

But he was already turning to his group, nodding at something one of them said. Y/n lingered a second longer, then turned and headed off with her own friends, the buzz of energy between them infectious.

They ended up at a quaint little café just a ten-minute walk from campus — one of those places with handwritten menus on chalkboards, soft indie music playing, and mismatched furniture that somehow worked together.

They ordered iced drinks, pastries, and claimed a round table near the window. As they sat chatting, the girls fell into easy rhythms — talking about professors, gossiping lightly about fellow students, and sharing first impressions of the day.

Y/n sat nestled between Ryujin and Winter, sipping on a caramel latte.

“It’s so weird not being in uniforms anymore,” Yunjin said, fiddling with the sleeves of her cropped hoodie. “I keep expecting a teacher to scold me.”

“I know, right?” Ryujin added. “Also, bless college for letting us drink coffee in class.”

“Yeah,” Winter said with a small smile. “Also bless everyone’s outfits today. Campus looked like Pinterest exploded.”

Y/n chuckled, her heart warming from the inside out. This was nice — a new kind of comfort. Not the familiarity of Eunseok, but something lighter, exciting, unpredictable.

Then the bell above the café door jingled. They all looked up instinctively. In stepped Eunseok, followed by his friends. Y/n’s eyes met his the second he scanned the room. His face lit up with an easy grin.

“Oh look, it’s the cool table,” he said, motioning to the others to follow as he approached.

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “You following us?”

“Coincidence,” he said smoothly. “But good timing, huh?”

He gestured to his friends. “This is Sungchan, Anton, Shotaro, Seunghan, Wonbin, and Sohee. Guys, meet Y/n my bestfriend and her friends.

Sungchan gave a bright smile. “Nice to meet you all.”

Chairs were pulled in, drinks were ordered, and just like that, the café table grew louder, livelier. The two groups melted into one conversation — jokes flying, stories being exchanged, laughter bouncing off the café walls.

Y/n sat beside Ryujin and across from Eunseok, their eyes meeting occasionally in those in-between moments when the group chatter paused. His smile was still familiar, still teasing — but it lingered a beat longer now. And hers? A little more unsure. Maybe the world was widening for both of them.

And maybe, just maybe… this was where everything began to shift.

—

The sky was starting to tint orange by the time they all stood outside the café, stretching, waving, and saying their goodbyes. One by one, Ryujin and the others disappeared in different directions, until only Y/n and Eunseok remained, heading toward the bus stop they’d always shared.

“First day down,” Eunseok said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “You survived.”

Y/n smiled. “Barely.”

He glanced at her. “You’re lucky you made some cool friends though. They seem decent. Loud, but decent.”

“Hey,” she laughed. “They’re fun. And Winter isn’t loud.”

“No, she’s just scarily observant,” he said, pretending to shiver.

Y/n was about to reply when Eunseok suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned to her. “Hold still.”

“Huh—?”

Before she could react, his thumb reached out and gently wiped something from the corner of her lips. “You had whipped cream,” he said casually.

But his voice was quieter. Softer.

Y/n blinked, her breath caught in her throat. For just a split second, it wasn’t just his hand on her face. It was the weight of something unspoken. The heat that climbed up her neck had nothing to do with the summer air.

She quickly looked away and swatted at his hand. “Ugh, you’re so annoying.”

Eunseok only smirked, walking ahead again. “You’re welcome.”

On the bus ride home, things felt normal again. Their shoulders bumped occasionally as the vehicle rattled along the familiar streets. Y/n texted her mom:

On the way home. Eunseok’s coming in for a bit.

The response came seconds later:

Of course. I’ll keep dinner warm.

As soon as they stepped off the bus and reached the familiar steps of Y/n’s front porch, Eunseok opened the door like he lived there — because honestly, it felt like he did.

“I’m home!” they both called out in unison.

From the living room, a distracted voice responded. “Hi!” It was Sion, Y/n’s younger brother, fully immersed in his racing game, fingers clicking rapidly as the car zoomed across the large TV screen.

“Still trying to beat your record?” Eunseok teased, dropping his bag near the shoe rack.

“Don’t distract me,” Sion muttered, tongue slightly out in concentration. “I’m on the last lap.”

Y/n rolled her eyes fondly and padded into the kitchen, instantly reaching for the snack cupboard. But her hand barely grazed a bag of chips when a sharp smack tapped the back of it.

“Not before dinner,” Mrs. Oh said, narrowing her eyes with a knowing smile.

“Ugh,” Y/n groaned, pouting. “I’m starving.”

“There’s fruit on the table. You can eat that.”

Defeated, Y/n shuffled out of the kitchen and headed upstairs. Eunseok didn’t need prompting — he followed behind her, casually making his way into her room and collapsing onto her bed, face-first.

“Your bed still smells like strawberry detergent,” he muttered into her blanket.

“That’s because I actually wash my sheets,” she said, tugging her chair out from her desk.

He rolled onto his back, eyes half-lidded. “So… first day. What’d you think?”

Y/n leaned back slightly, kicking off her shoes. “It was… a lot. But good. The girls were nice. It felt weird not being in the same class as you though.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, turning his head to look at her. “Felt empty. Kept waiting for your annoying commentary about the professors.”

She smirked. “You mean correct observations.”

Eunseok smiled, then sighed. “It’s going to be weird this year. Different schedules, new people….”

“Yeah,” she echoed, softer now.

There was a brief silence — not awkward, just thoughtful.

Then Eunseok added, “But we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Y/n nodded, watching him from her chair. He looked too comfortable on her bed. Too familiar. Like this moment had played out a hundred times before — and yet, somehow, everything felt… a little different now.

She wasn’t sure what it meant yet.

But she could feel it.

And that was enough to make her heart ache just a little.

The scent of simmering stew and garlic-soy marinated meat wafted through the air, curling its way up the stairs and into Y/n’s room. “Dinner’s ready!” Mrs. Oh called out from the kitchen.

Eunseok sat up immediately. “Finally. I was about to pass out.”

“You had a whole pastry earlier,” Y/n said, laughing as she stood.

“That was fuel for emotional support,” he quipped, following her down the stairs.

In the dining room, the table was already set. Bowls of warm rice, glistening meat, side dishes, and a bubbling pot of kimchi jjigae awaited them like a familiar embrace. Sion was already in his seat, chopsticks in hand.

“You eat like you didn’t just have snacks ten minutes ago,” Y/n muttered to her brother.

“Mom said you couldn’t have snacks. Not me,” Sion replied with a smirk.

Mrs. Oh ushered the two of them to their seats. “Come on, food’s getting cold.”

As always, Eunseok took the spot next to Y/n — across from her brother and beside her mom, who barely blinked at the routine. It was like muscle memory, the way she instinctively placed an extra set of utensils by his bowl, spoon angled just the way he liked.

“Eunseok-ah, taste this and tell me if it’s too salty,” Mrs. Oh said, offering him a spoonful from the stew.

He obliged with a grin, tasting it like a proper food critic. “Mmm. Perfect. Just spicy enough.”

“I swear, you compliment my cooking more than my own kids do,” Mrs. Oh said with a laugh, smacking Y/n lightly on the arm.

“Because he’s trying to win Favorite Child status,” Y/n said, feigning offense.

“I think I already have it,” Eunseok replied smugly.

“You wish,” she shot back, but the warmth in her voice was real.

They ate together like they always had — laughter bouncing around the room, chopsticks clinking against bowls, casual teasing woven in between mouthfuls. Sion recounted a weird video he’d watched, and Mrs. Oh shared a story about a nosy neighbor. And through it all, Eunseok felt less like a guest and more like a piece of the house itself.

Halfway through the meal, Mrs. Oh gently reached out to fix Eunseok’s bangs, brushing them away from his eyes.

“You need a haircut soon, don’t you?” she said. “I keep telling you, you should let me trim it.”

Eunseok chuckled. “You just want an excuse to make me look like Sion.”

“She cuts his hair every few months,” Y/n whispered to him. “It’s like a ritual.”

“Don’t remind me,” Sion groaned dramatically.

Y/n glanced between them — her mom fussing over him, her brother casually talking to him like he was another sibling, Eunseok cracking jokes like he belonged in every chair at the table.

It hit her all at once.

He was part of the family. Her mom treated him like a son. Her brother liked him more than most of his own classmates. Their house — her home — had his imprint in every corner.

And yet…

There was something bittersweet sitting just beneath her ribs.

As dinner wound down, Mrs. Oh packed some leftovers into a container. “Take this home, Eunseok. You’ll get hungry again by midnight.”

“Thanks, mom.” he said with a grin, accepting it like it was a given.

“You’re basically another mouth to feed in this house,” she teased.

Y/n followed Eunseok to the door, the evening breeze cool on their faces as he slipped on his sneakers. She held the door open, leaning against the frame.

“I think my mom likes you more than me,” she said, trying to sound casual.

“She’s got good taste,” he teased.

They stood there for a second — not quite wanting to end the day, not quite knowing what else to say. The silence between them wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t easy either. It felt… loaded.

“I’ll text you later.” he finally said.

“Okay.”

He stepped off the porch, gave her a lazy wave, turn to walk towards the next house. Y/n stood there watching as he stepped infront of his front porch, glancing up at Y/n smiling and entered the house.

That night after dishes, after Eunseok had texted his usual “home safe” message… Y/n layed in bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark.

She should’ve been asleep by now. Her alarm was set for 6:00 AM. She had classes to think about and new friends to maintain.

But her mind was stuck — looped on the moment his thumb wiped cream from her lips. On the way he collapsed onto her bed like it was his. On how naturally he fit at the dinner table. How her mom smiled differently around him. How she smiled differently around him.

Why am I thinking about him like this?

She turned onto her side, clutching her pillow.

It’s just Eunseok. He’s always been like this. Always been here. He’s my best friend. That’s all.

Still, her chest felt tight. Not painful. Not scary. Just... full. Like she was holding something in, afraid of what it would become if she let it out.

The next morning arrived too soon.

By 6:30 AM, Y/n was already in the kitchen rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, tying her hair into a loose bun as she reached for the eggs in the fridge. The pan was already heated.

Crack.

Eggshells landed awkwardly on the edge of the sink. The yolk broke too fast.

She sighed. Right on cue, the doorbell rang. She didn’t even flinch. “It’s open!��� she called out, too used to the routine by now.

Seconds later, Eunseok stepped into the kitchen like he lived there. “You still can’t crack eggs properly?” he greeted, setting down his bag.

“Good morning to you too,” she mumbled, flipping the eggs with uncertainty.

He leaned beside her and peered into the pan. “That’s a war crime, Y/n.”

“Shut up,” she said, laughing under her breath.

“I’ll handle it.” He took the spatula from her, bumping her gently aside. “You cut up some fruit or something. This is painful to watch.”

She rolled her eyes, muttering, “Drama queen.”

A few minutes later, the scent of properly cooked eggs and buttered toast filled the kitchen.

Y/n walked into the living room where Sion sat on the couch, still wrapped in a blanket, eyes barely open as a random anime played in the background.

“You’re up,” she said, surprised. “I thought I’d have to drag you out of bed.”

“Woke up to the smell of something burning,” he mumbled.

She gasped. “That was not burning—”

“You mean the ones that Eunseok hyung made since you messed up?” Sion interrupted with a sleepy smirk.

Without hesitation, Y/n grabbed the closest couch pillow and smacked it against his shoulder.

“Hey!” Sion protested, shielding himself.

“Respect your sister,” she grumbled, but her voice was light.

From the kitchen, Eunseok called out, “Sion-ah, come eat! Before your sister ruins dessert too.”

“I heard that!” Y/n shouted.

Soon they sat at the table, the three of them — Eunseok in the seat her mom usually occupied. Sion was still yawning between bites, but his plate was almost clean.

“Mom left early?” Eunseok asked, nodding toward the empty seat.

“She had a meeting downtown,” Y/n said. “Told me to make sure Sion ate properly, like I don’t do that every morning.”

“You don’t,” Sion said with a full mouth.

“I will smother you with toast,” she warned.

Eunseok just watched them with a smile, like this scene was something he’d memorized — something that grounded him.

After a moment, Y/n looked over and caught him staring at the two of them. Not in a weird way. In a soft way. Like… this was peace.

“What?” she asked, her voice quiet.

He blinked. “Nothing. You’re just… you’re good at this.”

“At what?”

“Being the older one. It suits you.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. But something fluttered in her chest — something that hadn’t stopped since last night.

As the clock ticked closer to 7:30 AM, Sion packed his things and ran out to catch his own bus. Y/n and Eunseok gathered their bags next, ready to head out.

But as Y/n tied her shoes by the front door, her heart still tugged with confusion. She glanced at him — same hair slightly messy from the wind, same easy grin.

Why do you feel different now?

Why does my heart feel like it’s noticing you for the first time?

She shook her head, willing the thoughts away.

He’s just my best friend. Right?

— The morning air on campus buzzed with sleepy energy the kind only found in second-day-of-school chaos. Some students were rushing with their lanyards flapping in the breeze, others loitering near vending machines, sipping energy drinks and still blinking sleep from their eyes.

Y/n and Eunseok walked side-by-side, their steps in sync out of habit rather than intention. She tugged at the hem of her sweater while balancing a piece of toast in one hand, barely biting into it.

“You know you look like a squirrel when you chew in a rush, right?” Eunseok said, casually slinging his bag higher up on his shoulder, looking at her sideways.

Y/n narrowed her eyes and nibbled again. “And you look like an unbothered grandpa. What’s your point?”

He chuckled. “I’m just saying… maybe today, try not to scare off your professors with your zombie-walk.”

“I’m functioning, thank you very much,” she grumbled, brushing a crumb from her lip. “At least I don’t snore through three alarms like you.”

“I don’t snore.”

“Yes. You do.”

He was about to argue again, when—

“Eunseok!”

That voice — chipper, sweet, and unmistakably familiar — sliced through their morning banter.

Y/n turned her head and immediately recognized the girl approaching them. The same girl who had been glued to Eunseok’s side the day before. She wore a cardigan today over a white blouse, her skirt neatly pressed, hair flowing in gentle waves. The kind of girl who looked like she walked out of a web drama.

Y/n’s grip on her toast loosened slightly.

The girl slowed to a stop in front of them, a wide, almost practiced smile lighting up her face. “Good morning, Eunseok,” she said, tilting her head slightly.

Eunseok, polite as always, offered a warm smile in return. “Morning, Chaeyoung.”

And then the inevitable.

Chaeyoung’s gaze flicked to Y/n. Her expression didn’t falter, but something in her eyes shifted — a quick flicker of sizing-up.

“Oh? Is this your sister?” she asked sweetly, raising an eyebrow like she was only half-joking. Y/n was caught off guard, but before she could respond, both she and Eunseok said at the exact same time:

“No.”

“She’s not.”

There was an awkward beat of silence before Eunseok spoke again, casually placing a hand on Y/n’s shoulder. “She’s not my sister, but she’s like one. This is Y/n — my best friend. We’ve known each other since we were toddlers.”

Y/n managed a small, polite smile and extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Chaeyoung took it, her grip firmer than Y/n expected.

“I’m Chaeyoung,” she said brightly. “I had classes with Eunseok yesterday. He gave me his coffee because I looked exhausted — wasn’t that the sweetest?”

Y/n’s stomach twisted slightly. She wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like Eunseok hadn’t shared coffee with her before. Heck, he’d even split his lunch with her back in high school more times than she could count.

But hearing it from someone else — watching Chaeyoung talk about her Eunseok like that — felt strange. Foreign. Not quite jealousy, not yet, but… discomfort.

“I’m sure he was just being kind,” Y/n replied softly.

Before Chaeyoung could say anything else, the bell rang, its shrill tone bouncing off the hallway walls. Students began moving all around them like a tide pulling everyone in different directions.

“Oh, there’s my class!” Chaeyoung chirped, then — to Y/n’s surprise — reached out and hooked her hand around Eunseok’s arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Y/n’s eyes widened slightly.

Chaeyoung smiled up at him. “Let’s walk together?”

Eunseok blinked, hesitated for the smallest second, then gave her a polite nod. “Sure. I’ll see you later, Y/n.”

“Yeah,” Y/n said, quickly forcing a smile. “See you at lunch.”

Chaeyoung waved back with the arm not clinging to Eunseok. “Nice meeting you!”

As the pair disappeared down the hallway, Y/n stood frozen for a moment, toast in hand, heart oddly hollow. She knew it didn’t mean anything. Not really. Eunseok was just being his usual polite, non-confrontational self.

But still…

Why did that bother her so much?

She shook her head and turned to head toward her own class, her thoughts unusually noisy for this early in the day.

Maybe it wasn’t just the girl. Maybe it was how quickly Eunseok had adapted to the attention. Maybe it was that he let her cling to him. Or maybe… maybe it was that he hadn’t looked back once.

— Third period felt like it would never end. The lecture droned on, and the fluorescent lights above flickered just enough to make Y/n restless. Her notes were barely legible, written more out of habit than focus. Her mind had been wandering since the morning—since Chaeyoung clung to Eunseok’s arm like they’d known each other forever.

Y/n glanced at the clock. Still twenty-five minutes left. She sighed and raised her hand.

“Professor, can I use the restroom?”

The teacher gave a distracted nod. “Make it quick.”

Y/n slipped her phone into her pocket and quietly exited the room, the hallways much quieter now that classes were in session. She walked toward the restroom, hoping the cold water might help clear her thoughts.

The door creaked softly as she stepped into the girls’ restroom, and almost immediately, her eyes landed on someone already inside.

Chaeyoung.

She stood in front of the mirror, leaning in close as she adjusted the gloss on her lips. Her long lashes fluttered as she blinked, dabbing gently at the corners of her eyes with a tissue. The light hit her just right—highlighting her features, her confidence, the effortless way she carried herself.

She looked up when she saw Y/n in the reflection.

And smiled.

Not wide. Not fake. But not exactly friendly either. It was polite. Civil. Measured.

Y/n offered a quick nod before disappearing into one of the stalls, doing her best not to think too much of it. It was just coincidence, right? Nothing more.

When she emerged a minute later and walked to the sink, Chaeyoung was still there. Still checking her makeup. Still perfect.

Y/n turned on the tap, the water splashing softly as she began washing her hands. There was silence between them — just the sound of the faucet and the soft crinkling of a makeup bag zipper.

“Y/n, was it?”

Y/n paused, blinking, and looked up slowly to meet Chaeyoung’s eyes through the mirror.

She nodded, drying her hands with a paper towel. “Yeah.”

Chaeyoung gave a small hum and turned slightly, her body still facing the mirror but her eyes now on Y/n’s reflection.

“Eunseok…” she began slowly, as if trying to sound casual. “Is he… seeing someone?”

Y/n’s hands froze in the act of tossing the paper towel.

That name. Her Eunseok. The way she said it — softly, curiously, with just enough edge to make it sound intentional — sent a small jolt through Y/n’s chest.

She tried to steady her voice, forcing a neutral tone. “No. From what I know, he’s been single for a couple of years now.”

There was a brief pause.

Then, Chaeyoung smiled — that same polite, unreadable smile — and turned to fully face the sink again.

“Just curious,” she said lightly, like it was an afterthought.

And without waiting for a response, she tucked her lip gloss back into her pocket, adjusted her bag strap, and walked out the door.

Y/n remained by the sink, staring at the door that had just softly clicked shut.

Just curious?

But it didn’t feel like curiosity.

She turned back toward the mirror, catching her own reflection — cheeks slightly flushed, brows faintly furrowed. Her eyes gave her away. She was bothered. More than she wanted to admit.

And in that quiet restroom, alone with her thoughts, she whispered the truth only to herself.

“I don’t like him… right?”

But even she didn’t believe it anymore.

By the time Y/n returned to class, the lecture was wrapping up. She slid back into her seat beside Ryujin, offering an apologetic smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Ryujin glanced at her and raised an eyebrow.

“You okay?” she whispered, pen still idly tapping on her notebook.

Y/n hesitated for a second before giving a tight nod. “Yeah. Just needed a break.”

But Ryujin wasn’t convinced. She didn’t push though, sensing Y/n wasn’t ready to open up — not yet.

The bell rang not long after, and the class began filing out into the hallway, noise swelling with footsteps and chatter. Y/n followed behind her group, quieter than usual. Her mind kept replaying Chaeyoung’s voice in that restroom.

They made their way to the cafeteria, securing a corner table near the windows where sunlight filtered in lazily. Ryujin, Yunjin, Winter, and Somi launched into a chaotic conversation about how “hot” their ethics professor was and whether it was too soon to join a club or not.

“Okay, pause,” Somi said suddenly, leaning forward on the table and squinting at Y/n. “You’ve been weirdly quiet since you got back from your ‘bathroom break.’ Did someone cry in there or something?”

Ryujin crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes too. “More like someone’s thoughts are floating above her head like a speech bubble.”

Yunjin leaned over with a teasing grin. “Let me guess. This is about Eunseok, right?”

Y/n blinked. “What? No— I mean— I just…”

She looked down at her tray, suddenly finding the untouched rice ball very interesting. Winter rested her chin on her hand. “Did something happen?” There was a beat of silence.

Y/n finally sighed, pushing her tray aside slightly. “I ran into that girl again. Chaeyoung.”

That got everyone's attention. Ryujin’s brow furrowed. “The one from yesterday? Miss arm-hold?”

Y/n nodded.

“She asked me if Eunseok was seeing anyone,” she said quietly, then added, “When we were alone. In the restroom.”

The girls exchanged looks.

Yunjin whistled. “She’s making her move already. That’s bold.”

“Do you think she likes him?” Winter asked, sipping from her iced drink.

Y/n shrugged. “Probably. I mean… I don’t blame her. Eunseok’s— you know— him. He’s kind. And tall. And stupidly charming in his own way.”

“But it bothered you,” Somi said, not as a question but a statement.

Y/n didn’t respond at first. Then softly, barely above the noise in the cafeteria: “Yeah. I think it did.”

The others fell silent for a moment, giving her the space to breathe in her confession. Y/n had never admitted that before. Not even to herself.

Ryujin, always the one to cut through fluff, leaned forward. “Do you… like him?” Y/n looked up slowly. Her lips parted to answer — to deny it, like she always had. But no words came.

Because maybe… maybe she did. And she hated how real that felt now. Before anyone could say anything else, the sound of chairs scraping across the floor caught their attention.

Y/n turned her head — and there he was.

Eunseok, walking in with his usual group of guy friends — Sungchan, Shotaro, Sohee, Anton, Seunghan and Wonbin. And right behind him?

Chaeyoung.

Of course.

Y/n’s stomach twisted again as Chaeyoung subtly placed a hand on Eunseok’s arm, leaning in to say something only he could hear. He chuckled lightly — the same way he used to with Y/n.

Ryujin leaned closer, noticing her friend's gaze shift. “If you’re going to let someone else take your seat in his life,” she said quietly, “don’t be surprised when she makes herself comfortable.”

That hit a nerve.

Y/n’s fingers clenched slightly on the edge of the table. She didn’t say anything. But something inside her stirred — not jealousy. Not yet.

Something more dangerous. The realization that she might be losing someone who’d never even known he was hers.

The cafeteria was buzzing, chatter echoing off the walls as students gathered in their usual clusters. At a glance, it looked like just another lunch period—but for Y/n, every movement felt amplified.

Her eyes followed Eunseok and his group as they made their way inside, Chaeyoung still glued to his side like a shadow. She said something again, her hand briefly brushing Eunseok’s forearm as they passed a table. He responded politely—like he always did—but something about the way she lingered made Y/n clench her jaw.

Then, thankfully, Chaeyoung veered off, joining a group of girls a few tables away. Eunseok didn’t even glance back. Instead, he and his friends headed straight toward Y/n’s table.

“Yo,” Sungchan greeted first, already pulling out a chair beside Winter, who blinked at him in mild surprise.

Wonbin waved at Ryujin, who offered a nod in return. Anton and Sohee gave a casual “hey” while pulling up seats, and Seunghan dropped into place with an easygoing grin.

Then Eunseok, without hesitation, sat down in the empty chair right next to Y/n.

No announcement. No warning. Just… sat. Like he belonged there. And then, naturally, reached over and grabbed a bite from her tray.

“Didn’t even ask,” Y/n muttered half-heartedly.

Eunseok chewed exaggeratedly, unfazed. “You always share,” he said, already going for another bite. But when Y/n didn’t nudge him away like she normally would, when she didn’t roll her eyes or jab his hand with a fork, he paused.

He glanced at her. She wasn’t even looking at him. Her attention was… elsewhere. Focused on nothing. Or maybe too many things.

Subtly, Eunseok leaned a bit closer and lightly bumped his head against her shoulder.

“You okay?” Y/n blinked, startled slightly, then gave a small nod. “I’m fine,” she said too quietly, her voice flat.

Her friends noticed. Especially Yunjin, who had been watching the interaction with narrowed eyes.

“She’s just tired,” Yunjin spoke up suddenly, cutting in with a casual smile. “We stayed up late talking about joining clubs and stuff.”

Y/n looked at her gratefully, catching the gentle nudge under the table. Eunseok raised a brow, clearly still unsure. “You sure? You look—”

“Dead inside?” Ryujin smirked, picking up the thread smoothly. “Yeah, we all look like that.”

That earned a chuckle from the guys, though Eunseok’s eyes lingered on Y/n for a second longer.

She finally glanced at him and gave a faint smile. “I’m really okay.”

He nodded slowly, still not fully convinced, but let it go.

The group slipped into lively conversation, laughter bubbling between the two circles now merged into one. Anton and Sohee were exchanging K-drama hot takes with Winter, while Sungchan attempted to teach Somi how to do a card trick with a pack he randomly pulled from his pocket.

But even with all the energy, Y/n felt like she was watching from the outside.

Eunseok was right beside her—shoulder brushing hers now and then, his voice familiar and comforting. And yet… it all felt different. Like there was a space between them no one else could see. She stole a glance toward Chaeyoung, who was seated a few tables away, sipping her smoothie while looking—coincidentally or not—right at their table.

At Y/n.

Y/n quickly looked away. Eunseok was mid-laugh now, teasing Seunghan for dropping a whole chicken nugget under the table. But as he turned slightly, his hand casually grazed Y/n’s again as it rested near her tray.

She moved it without thinking.

He noticed that.

His eyes flickered to her, confused, but before he could say anything, Yunjin piped up again with a loud sigh. “Alright. After lunch, we’re dragging Y/n to the art club booth. She needs to stop bottling up her emotions.”

Y/n choked slightly. “I’m not bottling anything!”

“Exactly what someone bottling would say,” Ryujin said with a grin.

Eunseok leaned back in his chair, finally smiling again. “Art club, huh? You still draw those weird little cats in your notebook?”

Y/n glared. “They’re not weird. They’re stylized.”

“Mhm,” he teased, poking her side. “Stylized cats with one eye bigger than the other. Totally not creepy at all.”

The tension eased for a moment, laughter softening the corners of her chest. But still, beneath it all, Y/n could feel it—the growing distance between what she felt and what she let show.

And for the first time in years…

She didn’t know how to act around him anymore

— The soft chime of the school bell signaled the start of the last period of the day. Students sluggishly filed into the classroom, half running on caffeine, half willing the clock to jump ahead.

Y/n entered with her usual calm steps, her bag slung lazily over one shoulder, clutching her notebook to her chest. She took her seat near the middle row — the same spot she'd claimed since orientation.

As she settled in, flipping her notebook open, she instinctively glanced at the door — and sure enough, there he was.

Eunseok.

Her fingers froze slightly on her pen as she watched him enter the classroom with his usual cool composure. He exchanged a casual nod with the guys seated near the back… but instead of walking toward the seat beside Chaeyoung, where he'd sat yesterday, he veered left.

Straight to Y/n’s desk.

Without a word, he slumped into the chair next to her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Chaeyoung, already seated, turned slightly in her chair, eyes tracking Eunseok’s movement. She blinked once, lips parted like she was about to call out—but didn’t. Her smile faded just a bit.

Y/n noticed.

She swallowed and looked forward again, trying to act like her pulse hadn’t just picked up. “You left your pen yesterday,” Eunseok mumbled casually, fishing a navy-blue gel pen from his pocket and dropping it onto her desk.

Y/n glanced at it. “You used it, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” he said with a faint smirk. “But I kept it safe.”

Before she could roll her eyes in response, the teacher walked in, beginning the lesson and drawing attention to the front of the classroom. Y/n focused on the board, her pen moving quietly across her notebook as she took notes.

Eunseok, meanwhile, tapped his fingers idly against the table for a few seconds before leaning over and scribbling something in the corner of her page.

She glanced down.

"Bored. Save me. 🙄" Then a doodle of a very exaggerated, bug-eyed stickman collapsed over a desk.

Y/n covered her laugh with a cough, nudging his arm lightly. “Pay attention,” she whispered, trying to sound stern.

“I am,” he whispered back, resting his head on the desk now, turned toward her, one cheek squished against his arm. “Just… multitasking.”

She didn’t look at him, but she could feel his gaze on her. Soft. Comfortable. A gaze that had always been there.

After a moment, his voice came quieter this time, like a secret being passed between them.

“Wanna hang out after class?”

Y/n paused in her writing. She looked at him finally, and there he was — face half-buried, hair slightly messy, eyes watching her with the kind of calm that made her chest tighten. It was so casual… yet something about it felt heavier than usual.

“Just us?” she asked before she could stop herself.

Eunseok raised a brow. “Well, yeah. Unless you have plans with Ryujin and the others?”

Y/n shook her head. “No… I don’t think we’re doing anything.”

“Then come with me,” he said simply, before shutting his eyes for a moment as if trying to nap mid-lecture. “Let’s go to that bakery you like. The one with the cream buns.”

She stared at him, blinking once. She hadn't even mentioned that bakery in months. Maybe even a year. But he remembered. And somehow, the fact that he remembered something that small felt louder than anything else in the room.

She turned back to her notes, her cheeks growing warm.

“Okay,” she said softly.

Eunseok smiled against his sleeve.

— The little bakery was quiet in the late afternoon, soft golden sunlight spilling through the windows and dusting the wooden tables in warmth. The scent of freshly baked bread and sweet cream filled the air, wrapping around Y/n like a comforting blanket.

Eunseok and Y/n slipped inside, shrugging off their bags and settling into a cozy corner booth. Eunseok immediately reached for the display case, eyes scanning the rows of pastries.

“Cream buns?” he asked with a teasing grin.

Y/n nodded, smiling softly. “You remembered.”

“Of course,” he said, almost too casually.

Their order arrived quickly — two cream buns, still warm, and cups of iced tea. Eunseok handed Y/n hers with a little flourish, watching as she took a bite, eyes closed briefly in delight.

They sat quietly for a few moments, the comfortable silence stretching between them.

Then Y/n cleared her throat, looking at him with a hesitant expression.

“So… about Chaeyoung.”

Eunseok raised an eyebrow, folding his arms on the table. “What about her?”

“She’s… nice,” Y/n said carefully, twisting a napkin between her fingers. “Friendly, confident, seems like she really likes you.”

Eunseok shrugged, taking a sip of his tea. “Yea, she’s cool. I guess.”

Y/n bit her lip, choosing her words slowly.

“Do you think she’s… your type?”

Eunseok looked down at his tea, then back up at her. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I haven’t really thought about it.” Y/n watched his face, searching for any hint. “She’s pretty,” she added softly.

“Yeah,” Eunseok said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Y/n nodded slowly, but before she could respond, Eunseok’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile.

“Chaeyoung is really, really pretty,” he admitted, eyes lighting up as he smiled. Y/n glanced at him, surprised by his honesty. Eunseok’s gaze then drifted toward the window, watching the passersby on the street outside. After a moment, his voice dropped to a casual tone.

“Hey… do you think Anton is your type?”

Y/n nearly choked on her cream bun, coughing and blinking in confusion. “Why… why are you suddenly asking about your friend?” she managed, still recovering.

Anton — tall, good-looking, with a charming smile that made many girls swoon. But Eunseok bringing him up out of nowhere was unexpected. Eunseok leaned back in his chair, raising one brow as he gave Y/n a teasing look. “I saw him looking at you a few times,” he said slowly, like he was revealing a secret. “I think he might be crushing on you.”

Y/n’s cheeks burned at the mention, her heart skipping a beat. “You’re kidding,” she whispered, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. Eunseok chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the moment.

“Nope,” he said. “He definitely notices you.”

Y/n looked away, suddenly very interested in the patterns on the table, trying to keep her face from showing just how much Eunseok’s words unsettled her — and yet made her strangely glad.

— The familiar creak of the front door opening announced their return. Y/n and Eunseok stepped inside, shrugging off their bags and exchanging tired but content smiles.

From the living room couch, Sion’s fingers danced over a game controller, eyes glued to the screen, but the moment he heard their footsteps, he looked up.

“Hey, you’re back,” he said without turning his head.

Y/n smiled warmly at her younger brother. “Hey, Sion.”

He paused his game, finally turning toward them. “Mom said she’s gonna be home late today. So it’s just us for dinner.”

Eunseok’s eyes flicked toward Y/n, then back to Sion, a knowing smile curling on his lips. As if he already knew exactly what to do. Without hesitation, he walked toward the fridge and pulled open the door. Taped to it was a small handwritten note.

Eunseok grabbed it, scanning the list of ingredients and instructions carefully. Then he chuckled softly, shaking his head as he flipped the note over.

At the bottom, scrawled in bold letters, was a warning:

“Do NOT let Y/n cook at all cost!”

Y/n, curious, leaned over Eunseok’s shoulder to glance at the note, eyebrows knitting in confusion.

“Why are you laughing?” she asked, a little suspicious.

Eunseok tucked the note into his back pocket, just out of her reach, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Because,” he teased, turning to face her, “I’m in charge of cooking tonight. So you better behave.” Y/n’s eyes narrowed playfully, but before she could protest, Eunseok was already moving toward the kitchen, humming a familiar tune like he owned the place.

Sion, grinning, called after him, “You’re lucky Mom left instructions. I’d hate to see what happens if you tried to cook without her help.”

Y/n laughed, the tension of the day melting away in the warmth of their little home — and the quiet comfort of their unusual, perfect little family.

— It had been a few quiet weeks since the semester began. Between adjusting to class schedules, late-night group chats, and long walks home.

On their free day off, Mrs. Oh insisted on a proper grocery run, dragging both Y/n and Eunseok along with the promise of dinner rewards and the subtle joy of motherly bonding. It wasn’t the first time the three of them did this—it almost felt like a routine by now.

The supermarket was unusually lively for a weekday afternoon. It was the sort of noise that hummed in the background like a steady drum—carts rolling, kids whining for candy, soft music looping from the speakers overhead. Mrs. Oh was already two aisles ahead, list in hand and a laser focus only a seasoned grocery shopper could master.

Y/n trailed behind pushing the cart, while Eunseok occasionally dropped in snacks that definitely weren’t on the list.

“You know she’s going to notice when she gets to the checkout,” Y/n muttered, eyeing the third bag of shrimp crackers he slid between the rice and the milk.

“Yeah,” Eunseok said nonchalantly. “But she’s also going to pretend not to notice.”

Y/n rolled her eyes with a smile, shaking her head as she adjusted the cart’s wobbly wheel. It was a moment that felt painfully normal—familiarity wrapped in the mundane.

They turned into the fruit and vegetable section, where crates of apples were stacked in perfect pyramids and a low chill hung in the air from the misting systems above the leafy greens.

“Eunseok?”

The voice made them both pause.

Y/n looked up just in time to see Chaeyoung approaching from the opposite direction. She looked different—more casual than usual, but somehow still effortlessly put together. Her pale cream sweater hugged her frame and her jeans were neatly cuffed at the ankles. Her smile lit up immediately when her eyes landed on Eunseok.

“Oh,” Eunseok blinked, his voice caught somewhere between surprise and politeness. “Hey, Chaeyoung.”

Y/n felt her chest stiffen slightly.

Chaeyoung took a step closer, cradling a small basket of groceries. “Didn’t think I’d see anyone from campus here,” she said with a light laugh. “I was just picking up some things for my grandma.”

Y/n walked up beside Eunseok silently, a small nod of acknowledgment toward Chaeyoung. Her arms were full with a bag of flour and a tray of eggs. Chaeyoung’s bright expression dimmed slightly when she noticed her.

Before anyone could say more, Mrs. Oh appeared around the corner with another basket full of ingredients and a cheery expression that could charm a room.

“Oh! Eunseok,” she said, surprised to see him still standing. Then her eyes drifted to Chaeyoung. “Who’s your friend?”

Chaeyoung straightened up a little at the question, offering a polite smile. “Mom, this is Chaeyoung,” Eunseok replied. “She’s a classmate from uni. We have a few classes together.”

Mrs. Oh looked delighted, immediately stepping closer to greet her. “Ahh! Nice to meet you, Chaeyoung. You must be one of the smart ones keeping my boy here on his toes.”

“Oh—uh—thank you, ma’am,” Chaeyoung said with a short laugh. “Nice to meet you, too.”

Before the conversation could continue, a voice called out from behind them.

“Mom, can we get these too?” Y/n called, holding up a box of cereal and a jar of Nutella. She walked up to join them, her hair slightly tousled from the chill of the produce section. As she stepped beside Eunseok, Chaeyoung’s smile faltered slightly. Her brows furrowed as she looked between Y/n and Mrs. Oh.

“I’m… confused, is she also Y/n's mom” Chaeyoung muttered, barely above a whisper, but loud enough to be heard.

Mrs. Oh chuckled, resting a hand on Y/n’s shoulder. “Oh no, I’m just Y/n’s mom. Eunseok is my best friend’s son—but he’s practically family. He’s been part of this household longer than some of our furniture.”

Y/n snorted at that while Eunseok just grinned.

Chaeyoung nodded slowly, as if trying to mentally adjust the image she had of them. “That explains… a lot,” she said with a stiff smile.

There was a beat of silence. It wasn’t awkward—not exactly—but the air had thickened just a little, heavy with all the things unspoken.

Y/n stepped away to drop her items into the cart and walked down the next aisle without waiting. Eunseok glanced at Chaeyoung one last time.

“See you around,” he offered casually.

Chaeyoung gave him a soft smile. “Yeah. See you.”

And just like that, the moment passed. As they turned the corner, Eunseok caught up with Y/n, who was now rearranging items in the cart unnecessarily. “Did she seem… off to you?” he asked quietly, glancing sideways.

“She just looked surprised,” Y/n replied coolly. “It’s not every day you find out your classmate has a second mom.”

Eunseok chuckled under his breath. “Well, to be fair… Mrs. Oh is everyone’s second mom.” Y/n didn’t say anything. But her hands were clenched a little tighter around the cart handle.

From a few steps behind, Mrs. Oh watched the two of them interact, a small smile tugging at her lips. She didn’t say it out loud, but she noticed the way Eunseok looked at her daughter.

Campus was unusually warm for a spring morning. Golden sunlight filtered through the trees as students shuffled toward their buildings in twos and threes, some still yawning, others chatting animatedly about last night’s lecture or the latest group project panic.

Y/n walked with her usual group—Ryujin, Yunjin, Winter, and Somi. The five of them had clicked in that effortless, chaotic way where someone was always talking over someone else, someone was always laughing, and somehow it just worked.

As they neared the central courtyard, Ryujin pointed toward the right side of the building, where a familiar figure stood next to the vending machine.

“There’s your boy,” she smirked.

Y/n turned just in time to see Eunseok—messy hair, bag slung over one shoulder, tapping the vending machine like it personally offended him.

“What did it do this time?” Y/n asked, walking over to him while her friends hung back.

“It ate my money,” he said, crouching slightly to peer into the bottom slot. “Again. Why do I keep trusting these things?”

Y/n shook her head and fished into her own pocket for some coins. “Let me try,” she said, inserting the change and pressing the same buttons. The drink clunked into the bottom with a satisfying thud.

Eunseok took the can and grinned. “You’ve always had the magic touch.”

“Maybe the vending machine just likes me more.”

He laughed, but before he could reply, a familiar voice broke into their conversation. “Eunseok! You’re here early too!” Chaeyoung.

Y/n’s smile faltered just slightly as she turned to see the girl walking toward them, dressed in a neat denim skirt and a tucked-in blouse, her hair pinned back on one side with a pearl clip. There was something practiced in the way she walked—poised, confident.

Eunseok looked surprised but polite as he turned toward her. “Hey, morning.” Y/n stepped back a little without even thinking about it, letting the can of soda slip into Eunseok’s hand as Chaeyoung stopped in front of them.

“I was hoping I’d run into you,” Chaeyoung said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Did you get the notes from yesterday’s lecture? I missed the last ten minutes.”

“Yeah, I think I did,” he replied, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I’ll send them to you.”

Chaeyoung leaned in slightly to peek at his screen, her hand lightly brushing his arm.

Y/n pretended not to notice.

But she did.

She always did.

“Oh, and,” Chaeyoung added, “There’s that group project for Communication Studies. I was thinking maybe we could meet up to brainstorm later this week? Just the two of us? You seem like you’d have good ideas.”

Y/n’s heart thudded a little harder. She stared down at her shoes, scuffing them against the pavement.

“I already have a group for that one,” Eunseok said with a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I think they already submitted our members list.”

Chaeyoung’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes narrowed just a touch. “That’s alright. There’ll be more group work, right?”

Y/n couldn’t help it—she glanced up, their eyes met briefly. And Chaeyoung smiled sweetly.

“Morning, Y/n,” she added smoothly.

“Morning,” Y/n said, returning the smile with one of her own, smaller but steady.

Ryujin and the others walked up then, sensing the shift in energy. Yunjin gave Y/n a pointed look, mouthing silently: ‘You good?’

Y/n nodded almost imperceptibly.

Chaeyoung turned toward her own classroom just before the first bell rang. “Well, see you both later,” she said over her shoulder, her voice sing-song and light as air.

The second she was out of sight, Ryujin groaned.

“Someone’s trying way too hard,” she said under her breath.

“I don’t know,” Somi added, a little too honestly. “She’s kind of smooth with it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was plotting something.”

“She is,” Winter said, biting into a breakfast bar. “And it’s working.”

Y/n stayed quiet. Her arms folded across her chest, her gaze drifting toward Eunseok, who had turned his attention to a message on his phone, oblivious to the way the conversation just shifted around him.

Inside, her thoughts were already spiraling.

It was silly, really. Chaeyoung hadn’t done anything wrong. She was just being... friendly. Maybe a little too friendly. But Eunseok wasn’t hers. He never had been.

But why did it bother her so much to hear his name on Chaeyoung’s lips? Why did her stomach twist when she saw her smile at him like that?

Later that day, during lunch break:

Y/n sat outside with her friends, eating slowly as they chatted about weekend plans and classes. Eunseok joined them a few minutes later with his tray in hand, sliding into the seat next to Y/n like it was always meant for him.

“Hey,” he said, nudging her shoulder slightly. “You okay? You’ve been quiet today.”

“Just tired,” she lied. “Didn’t sleep well.”

He looked at her for a second longer than necessary, but didn’t press.

“Chaeyoung was looking for you in the hallway earlier.” Ryujin added casually, smirking behind her drink.

Eunseok blinked. “She was?”

Y/n didn’t say anything. She kept her eyes on her food, willing her face not to show anything.

“She was probably going to ask again about that project,” Eunseok muttered, scratching the back of his head. “She’s... nice.”

“Very nice,” Yunjin said sarcastically.

“Maybe too nice,” Somi added.

— The hallway was quiet, the distant murmur of classrooms echoing faintly behind closed doors. Y/n stepped out of the restroom, smoothing her hair and adjusting the strap of her bag, her eyes scanning casually ahead—

Until she spotted him.

Eunseok.

He was leaning against the wall across the hallway like he didn’t have a care in the world. One hand in his pocket, the other casually scrolling on his phone. His expression soft, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips—he looked like he was waiting for someone.

Y/n felt a small tug in her chest, her steps light as she instinctively began to walk toward him.

But just as she took a few steps forward, she saw her.

Chaeyoung.

Rounding the corner with a confident walk, the girl approached Eunseok like they’d been meeting up like this for years. She smiled brightly, her fingers reaching out to gently loop around his forearm as she leaned closer to say something. Eunseok looked up, startled for a second—but not pulling away either.

Y/n stopped walking.

Just for a second.

And that second was enough for the ache to creep in—low and warm, confusing and unwelcome.

She turned her gaze away quickly, trying not to react, when—

Thump.

She bumped into something—or rather, someone—solid. Y/n stumbled slightly backward, her breath catching as she looked up and saw a familiar face staring back at her with wide eyes and a startled expression. Anton.

His tall frame towered over her as he blinked in surprise, his hands raised awkwardly as if unsure whether to catch her or apologize first.

“S-sorry! I didn’t see you there,” he said quickly, his cheeks tinting the softest pink. He scratched the back of his neck, lips curving up into a shy smile. “Hi, Y/n... noona.”

Y/n’s heart, already fluttering from everything else, skipped again for some reason. She straightened, brushing invisible dust off her shirt, trying to regain her composure. “It’s fine—I wasn’t looking either.”

Anton looked past her for a second, spotting Eunseok and Chaeyoung still deep in conversation across the hall. His gaze returned to Y/n, softer now, almost like he knew.

“You... heading somewhere?” he asked, tone casual but curious.

“Back to class,” she replied. Anton nodded, stepping aside so she could walk through the hallway beside him. A quiet pause settled between them as they walked slowly. Then, just when Y/n thought the moment might dissolve, Anton glanced at her and cleared his throat.

“I’ve seen you around a lot,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing slightly with the way his voice pitched up. “You and Eunseok-hyung. You two are... close, huh?”

Y/n’s lips parted, a breath caught between a laugh and a sigh.

“Yeah. We’ve known each other forever.”

Anton nodded again, more thoughtful now. “That must be nice.” Another beat of silence. Then, softly, like he’d been waiting to say it:

“You’re... different from other people here.”

Y/n looked up at him, a little startled. “Different?”

“I mean that in a good way,” he added quickly, ears turning red. “You’re... warm. Like, easy to talk to. And I don’t know—maybe that’s why it’s easy to notice you.” Y/n blinked. Her heart wasn’t racing like it did around Eunseok—but it was fluttering in a different way now. A quieter way. A gentler one.

Before she could answer, the warning bell rang through the hallway. Anton gave a sheepish grin and tilted his head toward the classroom ahead. “Guess we should go.”

“Yeah,” Y/n said softly. “Let’s go.”

— Y/n stepped off the bus, the late afternoon sun casting golden streaks across the quiet neighborhood. Anton walked beside her, casually swinging the small cake box in one hand, the other buried in his hoodie pocket.

“Thanks again for offering to work on the project together,” Y/n said, glancing sideways at him. “I would’ve started it on my own and probably cried halfway through.”

Anton chuckled softly. “You’re being dramatic, noona.”

“Am I?” she said with a teasing smile.

They turned the familiar corner, approaching the familiar house with the low white fence and flowerpots by the door—her house. For Y/n, this route usually meant she was walking with Eunseok, laughing or arguing over something pointless, always feeling light and comfortably chaotic. But this time, it was... quieter. Still, not unpleasant.

Anton’s presence was different. Gentler. And even if it didn’t feel like home yet, it didn’t feel wrong either.

As they stepped up to the porch, Y/n unlocked the door and called out instinctively, “Mom, I’m home!”

Almost immediately, her mother’s voice floated from the kitchen. “Already? I thought you said you were staying late with—”

She paused mid-sentence the moment she stepped into view and saw Anton standing beside her daughter, holding a cake box, a bit stiff but offering a polite bow.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Oh,” he said with a soft, respectful smile.

Y/n’s mom blinked, eyebrows raising in amusement as she glanced between her daughter and the boy. “Oh? You’re not Eunseok.”

“Mom,” Y/n said under her breath, lightly elbowing her.

Mrs. Oh laughed, waving a hand. “I’m joking. I just wasn’t expecting someone new. Eunseok practically lives here—you know how it is.”

“I’ve heard,” Anton said, that polite smile still on his face.

“Well, come in, come in,” she gestured toward the living room, turning to Y/n with a twinkle in her eye. “Don’t keep him standing at the door.”

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully and stepped in with Anton following behind. She led him to the dining table where they set their bags down and placed the cake box on top.

“So... this is your first time here?” her mom asked, casually leaning on the doorframe with that knowing glint mothers always seemed to have. “Project partner?”

“Yes,” Anton nodded. “We’re in the same Literature class.”

“He also said he’d get me cake,” Y/n added quickly, trying to shift the focus off the subtle interrogation.

Mrs. Oh chuckled. “He’s smart. Bribery always works on you.”

Y/n gave her a betrayed look, while Anton let out a small laugh.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” her mom said, turning toward the kitchen. “Let me know if you want anything, okay?”

The moment she was gone, Y/n let out a breath and looked at Anton.

“She’s... really not used to seeing anyone else with me,” she admitted. “She always thinks it’s either just me or me and Eunseok.”

Anton sat down, resting his arms on the table. “That makes sense. You and Eunseok-hyung seem really close.”

Y/n hesitated, reaching for her notebook. “Yeah... we are.”

“Do people ever... get the wrong idea about you two?” She blinked, caught off guard by the quiet sincerity of the question. “All the time.”

Anton gave her a glance that lingered, like he was about to say something more, but instead, he opened his own notebook and pulled out the textbook. “Let’s make this project so good the professor cries.”

Y/n smiled. “Deal.”

They dove into their work, and for a little while, things felt... light again. A different kind of light.

The late afternoon light poured through the living room window, bathing the dining table in a warm amber hue. Y/n and Anton sat across from each other, textbooks and scattered notes spread out between them, the earlier awkwardness slowly replaced with quiet concentration and comfortable pauses.

Anton was surprisingly funny when he relaxed. He had a soft way of speaking, and when he joked—usually dry, unexpected one-liners—it always caught Y/n off guard, making her laugh harder than she intended.

“So,” he said, scribbling something down and pushing it over for her to read, “if we interpret this line as symbolism for freedom, do you think the professor will think we’re overreaching or just incredibly intelligent?”

Y/n read the sentence he wrote: "The open window didn’t just let the breeze in, it let her breathe for the first time."

“That sounds like a poetic cry for help,” she said through a laugh. “But... it’s also kinda beautiful.”

Anton looked down at his notebook, cheeks coloring slightly. “It’s cheesy.”

“It is,” she grinned, “but it’s a good cheesy. I think he’ll like it.”

A small smile tugged at Anton’s lips as he rested his chin on his palm. “You’re different when you’re not surrounded by your friends.”

Y/n tilted her head, curious. “Different how?”

He shrugged. “More relaxed. You don’t try as hard to hide how smart or thoughtful you are.”

The compliment took her off guard. She blinked, unsure how to respond, feeling her cheeks grow warm.

“I didn’t know I was hiding it,” she mumbled.

Anton gave her a gentle look. “A lot of people do. Especially around people they’ve known forever. They kind of get stuck being who they were back then.”

Y/n thought of Eunseok. Of all the years they’d shared the same jokes, the same rhythm, the same everything. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever had to show someone who she was outside of that.

With Anton, it felt like she could be a little more... her own person.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

Anton looked at her, then down at the time on his phone. “It’s already past six.”

Y/n blinked. “Seriously? That fast?”

He nodded, then glanced toward the kitchen. “Do you think your mom would be okay if I stayed a bit longer? I haven’t eaten yet.”

As if summoned, Mrs. Oh peeked around the corner at that exact moment, holding a dish towel.

“You’re welcome to stay for dinner,” she said, as if she’d been listening the entire time.

Anton sat up straighter. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Besides,” she smiled at her daughter knowingly, “it’s nice seeing someone new for once.”

Y/n threw her mom a look, but didn’t protest. When Anton turned back to her with a grin, she rolled her eyes.

“You’re not getting out of doing the rest of this project just because my mom likes you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Anton said, already pulling the textbook back open.

Later, after dinner which Mrs. Oh insisted on serving with too many side dishes and far too many questions about Anton’s family, his favorite food, and his blood type—Y/n walked him to the front door.

The night air was cooler, crisper, and the sky was already turning a shade of deep indigo.

“Thanks for today,” Y/n said, standing at the door with him.

“I should be the one thanking you,” Anton said, his voice softer now. “I had a good time.”

She smiled. “Even the interrogation from my mom?”

“Especially that part,” he joked.

They stood there for a beat longer, something unspoken lingering in the space between them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” she nodded. “Let me know when you got home safely.”

As he walked off down the street, Y/n stood at the door just a few seconds longer than she meant to, watching his figure fade into the distance. When she finally closed the door behind her, the house felt quieter, but not in a bad way.

Something had shifted.

Not in a dramatic way. Just... enough.

— Over the next week, Y/n and Anton found themselves spending more time together and not just because of the project, though that remained their excuse. Whether it was in the library corner near the windows or on a quiet bench tucked behind the art building, they found spaces that felt like theirs. Quiet. Comfortable.

Anton was never pushy. He didn’t talk too much, didn’t demand her attention, didn’t tease her the way Eunseok always did. Instead, he asked questions the kind that made her think. The kind that showed he really listened.

“…So, you write in a journal every night?” he asked one afternoon, leaning back on his elbows as they sat in the grass on campus, the sun casting a lazy golden light over them.

Y/n looked at him with a small smile, hugging her knees to her chest. “Sometimes. It depends on the day.”

“What do you write about?”

She hesitated, then shrugged. “Anything. Just… thoughts. Stuff I can’t say out loud.”

Anton nodded slowly, thoughtful. “I think that’s kind of brave.”

She turned her head, surprised. “Why?”

“Because writing things down means you’re willing to face them,” he said. “Most people just let thoughts slip away because they’re afraid of what they’ll find if they really stop and look.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was full of understanding. Y/n looked down at her hands. “Do you ever feel like people expect you to be a certain version of yourself all the time?”

Anton gave a dry laugh. “All the time. Especially when you don’t talk much people assume who you are before they ever really get to know you.”

Y/n nodded quietly. “I think I’ve been stuck in the same version of myself for so long, I didn’t even notice it.”

Anton glanced at her gently. “You don’t seem stuck.”

Her eyes met his, something soft and unsure flickering between them.

Before either of them could say anything more, a breeze passed between them cooler now as evening began to settle. Anton sat up and brushed the grass from his sleeves.

“Let me walk you to the bus stop,” he said, standing and holding a hand out to her.

Y/n took it without thinking. His hand was warm, and he didn’t let go right away.

Later That Week

“Are you seriously bringing cake again?” Y/n laughed as she watched Anton pull a small pastry box out of his bag after their study session in the library.

He grinned. “You said you liked that chocolate chiffon last time.”

“I said it was dangerous,” she clarified, watching as he opened the box to reveal two neat slices—one for her, one for him.

“It’s not a bribe. I just like eating with you.”

Y/n blinked at that, cheeks warming slightly as she accepted the fork he offered. They ate in companionable silence, tucked in a quiet corner of campus, legs stretched out in front of them. The sun was starting to dip behind the trees, casting everything in soft orange and purple hues.

“This might become a tradition,” Y/n muttered between bites.

“Is that a bad thing?” Anton asked.

“No,” she said, smiling faintly. “Not at all.”

Back at Home

That night, as Y/n lay in bed with her journal open in her lap, pen tapping lightly against the page, she hesitated before writing anything.

She thought of Anton’s quiet humor, the way he remembered her small preferences, the way he never filled the silence with anything unnecessary.

He was different. Safe. But also... unpredictable in the best way.

“It’s strange,” she wrote. “How someone you barely knew a month ago can become a part of your day so easily. Not in a loud way. Just... there. Like background music that suddenly becomes your favorite song.”

She paused, then underlined the word “suddenly.”

— The sun was barely peeking through the curtains when Eunseok stepped into the Oh household, slipping off his sneakers at the door like he’d done a thousand times before. The scent of sesame oil and something lightly frying on the stove wrapped around him like a familiar blanket.

“Sion?” he called out, already walking into the living room.

“Here.” Sion answered without looking up from his game controller, sprawled on the couch. “Noona’s in the shower. She’ll be down in a bit.”

With a shrug, Eunseok headed to the kitchen and grinned the moment he spotted Mrs. Oh laying out the breakfast dishes. “Good morning, Mom,” he greeted her as casually as ever.

Mrs. Oh turned around, her expression instantly brightening. “Eunseok!” she beamed, walking over and pulling him into a warm, motherly hug that made him chuckle.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you! You’ve barely dropped by lately,” she scolded gently, pulling away just enough to give him a fond look. “Too busy for me now?”

Eunseok raised both hands in mock surrender. “I swear I was buried in project deadlines. Ask Y/n. We haven’t even had lunch together properly this week.”

“You better not be starving yourself,” she replied, returning to the stove. “Sit. You’re eating with us.”

Just as Eunseok was about to pull out a chair, he heard footsteps descending the stairs. He turned, and there was Y/n—hair still damp, dressed in a soft oversized sweatshirt and loose pants, rubbing her towel over her head as she entered the kitchen.

Her steps faltered slightly when she spotted him.

“I honestly wasn’t expecting you,” she mumbled, catching his gaze before quickly looking away.

Eunseok raised a brow, his head tilting slightly. “Why wouldn’t you? It’s Saturday.” Sion, ever the chaos bringer, chose that exact moment to walk in. “Oh, did noona tell you? Anton’s coming to pick her up.”

Eunseok blinked, slowly turning to Y/n. “Anton?”

Y/n avoided his gaze, fiddling with the towel in her hands as she walked over to grab a cup of water. “We’re just finishing the project... and grabbing lunch.”

The silence that followed was subtle but heavy. Mrs. Oh caught it immediately.

“Huh,” she said casually, setting down a bowl of kimchi. “Isn’t that sweet? Anton’s the one you mentioned the other night, right? The one who brought over that cake?”

Y/n gave a sheepish nod, sipping her water a little too quickly.

Eunseok leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed now. “Didn’t realize you two were hanging out so much outside of class.”

“He’s nice.” Y/n said, her voice defensive even though he hadn’t accused her of anything.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t.” Eunseok replied smoothly, but his gaze lingered on her a second longer than usual.

Mrs. Oh, ever the observer, narrowed her eyes slightly at the exchange while pretending not to notice. “Well, if he’s good company and helps her focus, I approve,” she said, throwing a glance at Eunseok that held more meaning than her words let on.

“Didn’t know he was her type,” Eunseok muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Sion to catch.

Sion, traitorous sibling he was, grinned wide. “Well, noona never says anything, but Anton is good-looking, huh?”

“Sion,” Y/n hissed.

Eunseok didn’t say much after that, but his usual easy energy had shifted—just slightly. He took a seat, fiddling with the edge of the placemat, watching Y/n as she walked around the kitchen, trying to act normal. Trying not to fidget.

The air had changed. Not dramatically. Not explosively. Just enough to be noticed.

Mrs. Oh set the rice cooker down and sighed quietly, offering a faint smile to Eunseok. “You’ll stay for lunch, right?”

“I might head out before that,” he said, not meeting Y/n’s eyes this time. Y/n blinked, surprised by the answer. “You’re not staying?”

“Got something to do,” he said with a shrug that didn’t feel as casual as he wanted it to. Before anyone could say more, the doorbell rang. Y/n flinched.

“That must be him,” she murmured.

“I’ll get it!” Sion called, already halfway to the door.

And as Anton’s voice greeted the younger boy from the entryway, Eunseok stood up, the chair scraping slightly against the floor.

“Tell him I said hi,” he said, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair.

Mrs. Oh frowned. “You don’t have to rush out, Eunseok.”

“I’ll be back later,” he said, already heading for the hallway.

Y/n turned to follow, but he paused just long enough at the edge of the room to say, “Have fun today.” The smile he gave her didn’t quite reach his eyes before walking past Anton and then he was gone.

The front door closed with a soft click, but to Y/n, it might as well have echoed. Eunseok’s presence, so loud and familiar, left a sudden hollow quiet in the air.

She stood in the hallway for a moment longer than necessary, eyes fixed on the now-closed door, her heart thrumming uneasily. Something about the way he left… the look on his face—it unsettled her.

Behind her, Mrs. Oh called out gently, “Y/n, sweetheart, don’t keep your guest standing.”

Snapping herself out of it, she turned and forced a smile as Anton entered the kitchen, Sion trailing after him.

“Anton! You came right on time,” Mrs. Oh greeted warmly, already gesturing to the table. “Come, come, we have enough food for everyone. Eunseok just left, so there’s an open seat.”

Anton blinked, slightly surprised. “Oh, he’s not eating with us?”

Y/n quietly took her seat, her gaze fixed on her rice bowl. “He had something to do,” she murmured.

Mrs. Oh gave Anton a kind smile. “He’s been in and out a lot lately. Busy boy. But that just means more food for you.”

Anton chuckled politely, settling into the seat Eunseok had vacated minutes before. It didn’t go unnoticed by Y/n, who kept her eyes down, pushing her food around.

Sion, not one for subtlety, pointed his chopsticks across the table. “Noona was spacing out since you got here. Think she’s sad Eunseok hyung left.”

Y/n nearly choked on air, glaring at her brother. “Sion!”

Anton laughed softly, lifting a spoonful of eggs and holding it toward Y/n. “Then let’s fix that. Say ‘ahh.’ Come on, it’ll make you smile.”

She looked at him, startled, before blinking rapidly. “Are you seriously trying to feed me right now?”

“You look like you need it,” he said with a teasing grin, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

Sion was grinning way too wide, and Mrs. Oh gave them both a knowing side-eye as she poured soup into small bowls. “I like this one,” she muttered under her breath just loud enough for Y/n to hear.

Y/n rolled her eyes, but despite everything, she opened her mouth slightly, letting Anton feed her a bite. She chewed, eyebrows rising in surprise.

“…Okay, that’s actually really good,” she admitted.

Anton smiled wider, clearly pleased. “See? Told you I’d cheer you up.”

And for a moment, it worked. Y/n allowed herself to relax—just a little—as they fell into a lighter rhythm. They joked, Sion made his usual ridiculous comments, and Mrs. Oh asked Anton the usual barrage of motherly questions, from his major to his favorite childhood food. He answered them all with charming ease.

But in the back of Y/n’s mind, she couldn’t stop replaying the slight furrow in Eunseok’s brow. The way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. The shift in the air when Sion mentioned Anton’s name.

She laughed when Anton teased her again, but her heart still felt tangled in a knot she couldn’t explain.

Outside, the day carried on like normal—but something between her and Eunseok had changed, even if neither of them had said a word about it.

After breakfast, the skies had softened into a quiet grey—the kind of weather that made everything feel slower, dreamier. Y/n and Anton stepped out of the house, her mom waving them off from the doorway with a smile and a suspiciously approving look. Sion had muttered something about “don’t be out too long” before disappearing into the living room, game controller already in hand.

Anton had offered his arm like a drama lead, jokingly, and Y/n had smacked it away with a laugh.

They decided to take the scenic route through the neighborhood park on the way to the café Anton had picked out. The breeze was cool, tugging gently at Y/n’s hair. Anton, walking slightly ahead, turned to look at her every now and then, like he was making sure she was still with him.

“You really okay?” he asked, voice softer now that they were alone. “You seemed… distracted earlier.”

Y/n hesitated for a second too long.

“Just… thinking about stuff,” she replied vaguely. “You know how it is. Life, school, projects...”

Anton looked at her a moment longer, his eyes warm but thoughtful. “Right. Life stuff.”

They left it at that—for now.

The café Anton brought her to was small and tucked between a bookstore and a plant shop, its storefront framed by hanging vines and chalkboard menus in handwritten script.

Y/n blinked as she stepped inside. “How did you even find this place?”

Anton grinned, proud. “I came here a lot when I was preparing for entrance exams. They let me stay forever as long as I bought a drink every few hours.”

The inside was cozy: dark wooden tables, dim lighting, the soft hum of indie music playing somewhere in the background. A couple of students were curled up in corners with laptops and open notebooks, the smell of baked pastries and cinnamon lingering in the air.

They ordered drinks—iced caramel coffee for her, black coffee for him—and a shared slice of strawberry shortcake.

They sat by the window.

“You know,” Anton began as he placed the fork in her hand, “when I said I’d treat you to cake, I wasn’t joking.”

Y/n chuckled, stabbing into the soft sponge. “I assumed you were just using cake as a bribe so I’d agree to be your project partner.”

“That too,” he admitted with a sheepish grin.

Their conversation flowed easier than she expected. He told her more about his hometown, his old high school friends, and his dream of maybe studying abroad someday. She told him about her childhood with Eunseok—without lingering too long on anything that might make her chest feel tight again.

It was calm. Natural.

And when she laughed at something Anton said, really laughed he looked at her with a softness that made her pause. Just for a second.

“Is there something on my face?” she asked, wiping her mouth with a napkin, suddenly self-conscious.

Anton shook his head, smile lingering. “Nah. You just look happy.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “Oh.”

“I like seeing you that way,” he added, almost shyly, taking a sip of his coffee to hide the red in his ears.

Y/n didn’t know what to say to that. So she just quietly took another bite of cake, and let the moment pass without pushing it too far.

But the warmth in her cheeks stayed with her the whole walk back home.

Word count: 15.8K Part 1. - Part 2. - Part 3.

[buff-bambiii]

see you again | anton lee

pairing : camp host!anton x reader addressed as wen ⭑ wc : 5.2k

tags : summer love, childhood sweethearts reunion, coming of age, soft romance (?), fluff

playlist : i wait for you / alex g , to all of you / syd matters , skinny love / bon iver , somethin stupid / frank sinatra , oldest trick in the book / matt maltese , intolewd / matt maltese , photograph / ed sheeran , cigarette daydreams / cage the elephant

remembering a boy from your childhood during a three-day summer trip, you return to the same camp from 16 years ago hoping to piece together the memories.

growing up, you had your fair share of friends. you were the kind of kid who'd wave at strangers and start conversations on the swings. outgoing, chatty, always the first to suggest a game of tag or hide and seek. the neighborhood kids adored you. some even called you the "mayor" of your street. at one point or another, nearly all of them had been your playmate, even if just for a single afternoon.

you don’t really remember much before the age of eight, except for one kid.

you were five when your parents took you camping to a forested site hours away from the city. a trip that was supposed to be ordinary, just a short weekend surrounded by pine trees and buzzing cicadas. the campsite had the smell of firewood and damp grass, and the lake glimmered under the summer sun. that was when you met a boy who changed everything, even if you wouldn’t remember it clearly for years.

he was around your age, with chubby cheeks and grass stains on his shorts. his hair stuck out in funny places like he had been rolling on the ground.

"hi," he shyly approached when he saw you standing by your parents' tent. "i like your shoes."

you blinked down at your pink sneakers, confused. "they got wet."

"that’s okay. mine are dirty."

he held out a rock with a shiny stripe in the middle. "this is for you. it looks like candy but it’s not. i found it by the river."

you nodded solemnly and took the rock like it was treasure. and from that moment, you were inseparable.

you ran around the campsite, chasing butterflies and pretending the trees were giant towers. you dug for pretend treasures, you played hide and seek, though you always gave away your hiding spot by giggling. you climbed the same stump over and over like it was a castle.

when your parents sat down by the fire to talk and laugh, the two of you built a tiny fort out of sticks and pretended it was a bakery. you made mud-pies and "soup" with leaves and pine needles, serving them to your parents.

on the second day, he grabbed your hand and tugged you toward the flower-dotted clearing near the edge of the forest.

"let’s play wedding," he said, eyes wide with excitement.

"what's a wedding?" you asked, blinking.

"it’s when you get married and be friends forever and eat cake."

you paused, then smiled. "okay, but i wanna wear a dress."

"you can pretend," he said, and gave you a little flower—a forget-me-not—clumsily plucked from the grass. he connected it and pushed it gently onto your pinky.

"this is your ring. it’s magic, so you gotta keep it safe."

you held it up like it was made of diamonds. "now we’re married?"

he nodded seriously. "yes, i’m the prince and you're the princess."

he picked up a stick from the ground, not too long, with a bend at the end and held it up like a wand. "we're married now," he declared, puffing out his chest. "the spell is complete!"

"what kind of spell?" you asked, eyes wide.

"a forever spell," he said, matter-of-factly. "so we can be best friends and play every day."

he tapped your shoulder with the stick like he was knighting you. you giggled and grabbed a twig of your own, mimicking his movements.

"and now i crown you king of mud pies," you said.

he burst out laughing. "then you're the queen of tree forts!"

you both laughed so hard you ended up collapsing into the grass, side by side, staring up at the patches of blue sky peeking through the branches. a dragon-shaped cloud drifted by, and you pointed at it at the same time.

"jinx!" he yelled.

and then you raced to see who could reach the stump first, already forgetting who won last time.

that night, you sat beside him by the campfire. he gave you the last marshmallow.

but by the third morning, his family had packed up early. you remember waking to find their tent gone, only an empty space left behind. no goodbye. just the smell of burnt logs and the forget-me-not still tucked under your pillow.

after that you never asked your parents about him. not once. you only mentioned the campsite again when you turned eight, asking if you’d ever go back there someday. but when a new campsite opened closer to the town, just minutes away, your dad chose that instead. you never returned to that faraway forest again. you even forgot what it looked like, or what it was called.

life went on.

sixteen years passed. you were now in your third year of university. childhood felt like another lifetime, buried beneath the noise of lectures, parties, and leaving your hometown behind. you weren’t sure whether to visit your parents this summer, especially with friends inviting you on a beach trip. but in the end, something pulled you back.

it had been a year since you last saw your family, so you booked the trip home.

and that one decision , that small, almost random choice would change your life more than you could ever imagine.

the cab slowed at the familiar street. your parents' house stood there just as you remembered: a cozy craftsman-style bungalow painted in a warm, earthy yellow, with white trimming that caught the sunlight. it wasn’t grand, but it had the kind of comfort that hugged you before you even stepped inside.

you reached for the neatly folded cash, handed it to the driver, then stepped out with your single luggage and backpack in tow.

climbing the porch stairs, you opened the door slowly and peeked around the living room. there, by the kitchen counter, were your parents, sipping coffee and talking.

"i’m home!" you called out, voice rising with excitement.

your mom turned first, eyes lighting up as she put down her mug. "wen, sweetheart!"

your dad stood, grinning, as both of them pulled you into a hug. your mom cradling your face and your dad giving your back a pat so strong it knocked a laugh out of you.

"we didn’t think you’d come home this summer," your mom beamed. "we missed you."

"i missed you too," you said, pouting a little as your dad took your backpack and wheeled your luggage upstairs.

"come on now," your mom said, already walking back to the kitchen. "you’re just in time. we made breakfast."

you followed her, the scent of eggs and toast filling your nose, the warm kitchen light casting a soft glow over the countertops. you began to talk. about classes, your professors, the annoying group project that never ended, but somewhere in the back of your mind, the memory of that boy hung around.

soon enough, you and your parents had gathered around a peaceful dinner table. the clink of utensils and warm scent of seasoned steak filled the space as laughter passed easily between you and your dad, your conversations ranged from random stories to summer vacation plans.

"how about another camping trip?" your dad suggested, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of steak.

you shrugged at first, nonchalant. but then a vague memory stirred—of trees towering above your five-year-old self, of pine needles on your shoes, and a quiet little boy who'd once been your entire world in two short days.

"in that old campsite?" you looked up from your plate, browa lifted.

your dad shook his head, eyes still on the steak he was slicing. "nope. i meant the usual site, just a few minutes away."

you pouted a little without realizing, pushing peas to one side of your plate, then corns to the other. your parents exchanged quick, knowing glances.

"why?" your mom asked with a playful smirk. "do you want to go back there?"

you narrowed your eyes at her. "no, i'm just curious. we only went once."

"you know," your dad said, a grin tugging at his lips, "when we first and last went to that campsite, you were five. this small." he gestured with both hands beside him, chuckling. "there was this boy your age. he was the son of the couple in the tent next to ours. you two were like two peas in a pod!"

"oh, you even played weddings!" your mom added with a laugh, leaning back in her chair and dabbing her mouth with a napkin.

you listened, smiling as the memories slowly began piecing themselves together— images of flower crowns, tiny feet running across crunchy leaves, and a shy boy with black clothes and quiet voice.

"really?" you asked, leaning forward with interest.

"really," your dad nodded. "and the boy even gave you—what's it called again?"

"myosotis," your mom answered. "forget-me-nots. he put one on your finger like a ring."

you couldn't help the small laugh that left your lips. "that's actually kind of sweet."

just as you were about to say more, your mom's face lit up as something clicked in her head. she stood up with a sudden spark of excitement. "oh! we figured you'd eventually ask about it when you got older, so…"

she walked over to the living room and opened one of the cabinets near the back. you turned slightly in your chair, watching her rummage through the rear shelves until she pulled out a small wooden box. she brought it back and placed it gently on the table.

"we had one flower preserved in resin," she said, flipping open the lid.

inside was a silver ring. at the center was a smooth resin dome, and nestled perfectly inside was a single blue forget-me-not.

your eyes widened as she placed it into your palm. "thank you!" you grinned, slipping the ring onto your finger. it was adjustable, and it fit just right.

you held your hand up, admiring the little flower frozen in time. "this is really pretty."

"told you," your mom said, giving your dad a nod as they both watched your reaction.

as you closed the box and placed it beside your plate, you suddenly remembered what you meant to ask earlier.

"by the way… what was the name of that campsite?"

"camp windlow," your dad replied.

you hesitated, then asked, "mind if i spend a day there?"

they both nodded without hesitation.

"go on," your mom said. "just don't forget to come home and spend the rest of summer with us."

you smiled, feeling the ring on your finger—light, and comfortable. "i won't."

the next morning, you got up early, only to find your father already awake in the kitchen, sipping coffee and flipping through the newspaper. you had planned on taking a cab, but the moment he spotted your packed bag, he stood from his seat with a familiar look that said "you're not wasting money when i have a perfectly working car."

so instead, you found yourself in the passenger seat with one large bag, a singular tent, a portable table, and just enough food for a night. your dad drove you through the winding, tree-lined roads until you reached the trail entrance. he pulled over by the wooden gate and waved you off with a smile as you stepped out.

"call me if anything," he said as you nodded. waving before driving away.

you turned toward the gate. it stood quietly in the midst of trees, like a threshold between now and then. off to the side, an old but well-maintained wooden sign read: camp windlow trail

you noticed a bus parked nearby, likely for a group of students already at the site. you gave it a passing glance before starting up the trail. it was a short hike. just a few minutes, and then you saw it another wooden sign greeted you at the clearing, nailed to a tree: welcome to camp windlow

the space opened up into a cozy camp ground, surrounded by cabins and a cluster of trees. off to the side near the entrance was an old camper van with a sign hanging beneath a shaded awning: camp host.

you made your way to the rv’s side window. the soft crunch of leaves beneath your shoes was the only sound. you tapped the small bell on the built-in counter and tiptoed to peek through the screen, but the space inside looked empty.

just as you were about to turn around, you caught movement in your peripheral. a tall guy near one of the cabins—mid-conversation with a student—looked in your direction. he said something to the student, nodded, then jogged toward you.

"good afternoon, miss. welcome to camp windlow," he greeted with a small nod.

his dark, tousled hair fell over his forehead, framing gentle features. his eyes had that warm, sleepy crescent shape when he smiled. he wore a loose, off-white baseball jersey with thin black pinstripes, and beneath it, the collar of a black shirt peeked out.

"hi, uh—yes. are you the camp host?" you asked.

"yes, miss. sorry i wasn’t at the station. some students needed help with their cabins. i’m the only volunteer on duty today," he said, voice soft and low like it could disappear if you weren’t listening close enough.

you gave a small nod. you had more to ask, but decided to keep it simple. "i just wanted to check where i can set my tent up. i’m not renting a cabin."

"got it," he said, then gestured ahead for you to follow. "come on, i’ll show you the tent area."

you followed him past the cabins, toward a grassy clearing beneath tall trees. the space was flat and quiet, the sunlight filtering through the canopy tree above. you could see the river nearby, shimmering under the noon, and a small wooden shed sat near its edge.

"you can pitch your tent here. it’s a good spot. but let me know if you’d prefer somewhere else," he offered, pausing to look back at you.

"no, actually this is great already," you said, giving a casual wave of your hand.

"cool," he smiled, continuing. "there’s a water pump near the cabins if you need it. just a heads up—no wandering after nine."

you nodded, noting the direction he pointed in.

"thank you," you said.

"how many days will you be camping?" he asked.

"just a day."

"alright. i’ll log you in real quick so i know you’re out here," he said, turning toward the rv. then he paused, glancing back. "oh- and your full name?"

"wendelin hale." you replied.

he blinked, as if a bulb went off in his head before nodding, jogging back toward the camper van.

you dropped your bag down and took a breath, turning to look at the view of the river. it was quiet and beautiful. familiar in some way. you looked around, piecing together scattered memories, smiling to yourself in recognition. this might’ve been the exact spot where your parents had pitched the tent years ago. across from it was probably where the boy’s family stayed. and in that nearby park space where the two of you had played wedding.

you chuckled softly and wandered closer, tapping your hand against the trees as you passed, letting your fingers graze the bark like an old habit.

when you turned back toward your spot, you caught the camp host looking up from the logbook through the rv’s side window. he glanced at you. you smiled politely, and he returned it before lowering his gaze back to the page.

he looked out toward the area you’d just visited, staring for a moment with a knowing smile. then, he went back to work.

you unzipped your bag and pulled out the tent, sighing as you knelt by it. it had been years, and you barely remembered how to set it up. you fiddled with the poles and fabric, trying to recall the steps, but it quickly turned into a mess.

from the rv, the man noticed you struggle. he stepped out and jogged over.

"need help with that?" he asked.

you gave him an embarrassed smile and nodded. "yes please."

he smiled back and knelt beside the tangled tent, hands moving skillfully.

"i'm guessing this is your first time camping alone?" he said as he worked, not looking up.

"yeah, just a day of trip down memory lane," you replied, watching him work, trying to learn.

"places like this can really hold onto the kind of memories you want to relive," he said, echoing your thoughts.

"deep talk," you said with a faint smile.

before you knew it, the tent was standing, sleek and sturdy, a perfect black triangle in front of you.

"well, i could say i’m also here for a memory lane trip," he said, standing and dusting off his trousers. "there you go."

you nodded, impressed. "thank you."

"of course. miss hale, right?"

"yes," you replied, smiling. "but no need for formalities."

"just trying to stay professional."

"okay... sir—?"

"lee," he said. "anton lee."

"alright, sir lee," you chuckled.

anton smiled at that, then looked at you more closely. "you seem socially entertaining for someone camping solo."

you shrugged as you started setting up your small foldable table. "not really. i just prefer solo trips like this so i can unwind peacefully."

"fair," anton said, nodding. he stepped closer and unzipped the tent door, folding it up neatly to keep it open. "want help with the rest?"

"yes, thank you."

he helped you with your things in silence, arranging everything carefully. after a moment, you spoke again.

"you mentioned you’re here just for a quick nostalgia trip?"

"yeah, well… i figured i could also volunteer for the summer. extra credits for uni, you know," anton replied.

"oh, so you’re a student?"

"yup. just like those people over there." he nodded toward the cabins where students were busy setting up for camp. "and you?"

"i’m in uni too," you said.

"cool! just around here?" he asked as you both kept working on your setup.

"not exactly. my hometown’s a small town somewhere around here in oregon, but i study in portland. five hours away."

"you sound pretty established," anton smiled.

"not really," you shrugged, standing once you were finished setting up, noticing anton was done too. "still stuck here in the same state."

"hey, at least it’s something," anton said as he walked toward the riverside. you followed him, and together you sat in the open wooden shed.

"so, what about you?" you asked.

"really complicated," anton chuckled. "my hometown’s all the way in new jersey."

"that’s basically a plane ride away," you gasped. "how’d you end up here?"

"like i said, complicated. i just got back here after many years. i also decided to study around portland."

"and you volunteered as a camp host here." you laughed.

"obviously," anton nodded. "you know, you kind of seem familiar."

you looked at him, that same strange feeling rising inside you too. "yeah, you do too."

"what’s your name again? wendelin?"

"mhm, why?"

"nothing, just… i used to know someone with a similar name. well, not exactly the same, but she's called wen."

"that could be wendy or something else. wen’s a common nickname."

"i know."

"so, you think i seem familiar just because of my name?"

"maybe?" anton shrugged.

"well, you seem familiar too, somehow," you said, watching him, waiting to see if he wanted you to explain. "the first time i came here, i was about five," you started. "i had a friend, but i don’t remember his name."

"was it a girl?" anton asked.

"no, no." you shook your head, smiling at the memory. "we used to play a lot around here. we even played wedding. it’s cute but also kind of embarrassing. my parents teased me for it."

you looked down at your hand, twisting the ring on your finger.

anton noticed. "he gave me a forget-me-not flower ring. my mom even had it preserved in resin," you explained, showing it to him.

"eerie. i remember having the same memory," he said. "same place, same story. that’s why i came back here, to volunteer this summer."

"if i didn’t know your name, i’d swear that boy was you," you chuckled. "but i don’t think i ever heard the name anton back then."

"i get that," he smiled. after a pause, anton looked at you with a spark in his eyes.

"is it chanyoung?"

and as if remembering a song you've been searching for your entire life, it clicked in your head.

"chanyoung-ah, come here! it's time to eat!"

her mom's voice echoed in your memory. you could see him—five years old, turning to wave at you. his small feet kicked up dust as he jogged across the field to his mother’s table, where bowls of food are laid.

"come!" his mom then called out to you, her warm smile beaming under the shade of the pine trees. "wen? do you want to come over and eat with chanyoung?"

you’d nodded excitedly, cradling the bowl of leaf soup in both hands as you placed it carefully down by the tree where you’d been playing, then ran toward them with light steps.

you stared out at the river, its surface glinting under the sun. you smiled to yourself. a wide, happy, almost disbelieving smile, as your eyes visibly brightened up in recognition.

"chanyoung!" you beamed at him as he did too, his eyes crinkling with that same lighthearted smile. "since when were you anton?"

anton let out a chuckle, the corners of his lips curling into a smile that made your heart slightly jump. he glanced at you briefly before turning his gaze back toward the river ahead, hands resting loosely in his pockets.

"well, when we settled here in the u.s., i had to go for an english name. so, i pretty much went by my english name my entire life outside our house."

"i would've... never remembered." your voice came out quiet.

"that's on me," he replied with a smile. "it's nice to meet you again, wen. i kind of had a hunch when you started wandering off to specific spots here earlier."

you smiled to yourself, looking down shyly, hiding the stupid grin spreading across your face. you swung your feet a little from your seat, your heels lightly tapping the wooden platform beneath.

"so, that’s why you looked familiar. you still kinda look the same as when we were kids," you said, grinning up at him.

"well, you changed. your hair used to be some kind of lighter blonde and now you’re brunette," he pointed out. "but your eyes are still the same pretty shade of hazel."

"you remember that?" you turned to him, surprised, trying to keep your tone from sounding too delighted.

"of course." anton sighed before hopping off the seat. "you wanna walk around?"

you hummed and then nodded, hopping off your seat too. leaves crunched beneath your shoes as the two of you wandered off, the camp fading behind you as you stepped deeper into the quieter parts of the grounds.

you and anton walked around the wide area, the soft rustle of wind through tall grass and tree branches filling the silence between your conversations. every step brought you to an old spot. you even unlocked more memory you've completely forgotten. thanks to anton, who seemingly had remembered everything.

"that’s where you scratched your knee," anton said, pointing toward the root of a large tree, half-exposed in the dirt. "you tripped there. i thought you were gonna cry but you laughed."

you furrowed your brows for a moment, but then a smile bloomed across your face. the picture came back to you—your five-year-old self giggling with a scraped knee and grass in your hair.

"wow, you remembered again?"

"of course," anton nodded, walking beside you, relaxed. "i considered you as someone important in my life. you were also my first friend back then. i never really interacted with anyone as a kid, but you didn't scare me, and i found a friend in you."

your heart warmed at anton’s words. you looked down for a moment, suddenly feeling a little guilty. not for forgetting completely, but for remembering less than he did.

"i’m sorry i couldn't remember a lot," you said.

"don’t be sorry for anything." he waved his hands dismissively, his voice light. "if anything, i should be sorry for suddenly leaving."

you turned your head slightly toward him, curious.

"we were five and things happen," he continued. "the babysitter of my younger brother who's a baby that time called my parents that day, saying he got sick and was hospitalized. so we had to go back home earlier than we planned to."

"that’s okay. i understand." you paused, then looked up at him with a smile that tried to push away the lingering guilt. "well, at least we’re here now again, right?"

anton looked at you with soft eyes, his expression calm before nodding.

"i hope i don't come off as weird but—" anton paused, stopping beside the path. his voice dropped to a murmur. "i feel... unexplainably comforted. happy, even. you're the reason i came back here."

you looked at him closely, eyes searching. his gaze never left yours.

"why?" you asked. "is it really that important to you?"

you waited for an answer, but instead, anton simply exhaled softly through his nose and offered a lopsided smile. "it's almost sunset," he said, glancing toward the golden sky. "you shouldn't miss the view from your spot." then, without another word, he turned and walked back toward the main site.

that evening, the two of you sat on the log seat beside the crackling campfire. a few snacks between you, and hours spent sharing stories from your shared childhood. you told each other what life had become. he shared that he'd taken up swimming in university, dabbled in instruments, and, at his core, remained the same introverted boy you remembered.

anton didn't seem surprised when you told him you'd become an art major and that you had a decent circle of friends.

"i always knew you'd be an artist. you used to draw cool things for me, remember?" he paused, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "i still have them, actually. my parents kept a box of my things. your drawings are in there."

as the night wore on, you realized how naturally your bond had rekindled. anton had always been interesting and it became clear that the years hadn't eroded what once connected you. you both laughed, talked, and forgot about the time.

you looked at him with guilt simmering behind your words. "i hope you don't think i saw you as someone unimportant."

anton smiled gently, reaching out to pat your shoulder. "i never did. because if you did think of me as someone unremarkable in your life, you wouldn’t have bothered coming back here..." he then nodded toward your hand. "...or wearing that flower ring again."

"and..." he spoke again, but then hesitated, as if something weighed on his chest. "and it's getting late," he said instead, standing up. "i should head back to the van."

you didn't push as you just nodded. "do you want to exchange contacts?" you offered, standing up as well.

"that'd be nice," he said, pulling out his phone. you exchanged numbers, and the night passe from there.

in the morning, you got up early. students were already busy around the campsite as you sipped on a warm coffee. you looked over at the van and saw anton setting up his things. you smiled at each other.

"good morning!" you called out.

"good morning," he called back. but you didn't hear him. you only saw the shape of the words on his lips. you smiled anyway and went on with your day.

anton went to his daily morning work, while you joined a group for exercise. later, you packed everything up. new clothes on, your tent dismantled and tucked back into your tent bag. it was time to leave.

anton approached, his morning work done. "leaving already, i guess?"

"yeah," you smiled tight-lipped, slightly disappointed. "told my parents i'd only be out for a day. my dad's picking me up too."

anton nodded in understanding. "i already have your number, so i don't think there's anything to be sad about."

he helped with your bags until your phone buzzed with a notification from your dad—he was near.

"i should get going," you said, sliding your phone into your jeans pocket.

"i'll walk you down," anton offered.

he lifted your tent bag and your folded table while you carried your own backpack. the walk down the trail was peaceful, though the thought of saying goodbye made your chest feel heavy.

by the roadside, anton carefully set down your things in front of you.

"let's keep in touch," you said.

"sounds nice," he replied. a second of silence followed. then, he spoke again.

"and—it is. it is that important to me because you promised me, and i held onto that."

you blinked, confused, watching as anton smile.

"you've forgotten," he said. "but the evening before the morning we left, you told me something by the riverside."

he looked down briefly, then up at you again.

"you promised that you'd see me again. that we'd be friends forever—because we're married."

anton laughed a little.

"and... i'm happy you didn't break it even though you forgot about it."

the memory then struck you like a spark to dry wood. your small pinky held out to his.

"when we get home, i’ll see you again no matter what. because if we’re married, we’ll forever be friends."

the memory clicked into place like the last puzzle piece in a long-lost picture.

"i remember now," you said. smiling warmly back at anton.

then, a white car approached from the distance, pulling up just then. your dad rolled the window down, eyes landing on the two of you with a knowing, content smile as if he had seen this coming.

"did i make you wait?" he asked.

"just in time," you replied, opening the backseat door as anton helped load your things.

you then turned to him once more.

"i won't say goodbye."

"yeah. i won't, too," he said with a small smile. then, anton pulled you into a warm hug before letting go.

you opened the front seat door and got in. just before it closed, anton stepped forward.

"wen," he said, as you looked at him through the open window.

"see you again."

[buff-bambiii]

[buff-bambiii]

Doll 〃★ Jung Sungchan.

Pairings: Female!Reader x Jung Sungchan. Warnings: Mature content, smut, nsfw. ✦········· Word Count : 7.4K Chapter(s): [Chapt. One] - [Chapt. Two] - [Chapt. Three] - Final.

In the bustling cafeteria, the energy was high — chatter echoing across tables, trays clattering, and laughter bouncing off the walls. But at the center of it all, Y/N sat with both friend groups, Sungchan never once left her side since they stepped out of the head office that morning.

His hand rested casually over hers on the table, his gaze drifting around every so often like he was constantly scanning for danger. Their closeness hadn’t gone unnoticed. Whispers rippled through nearby tables, with students casting glances — some curious, others outright nosy. But neither of them paid it much mind. If anything, Sungchan’s arm slung over the back of her chair made it clear: she wasn’t to be messed with.

At some point, Y/N stood up, dusting off invisible crumbs from her skirt. “I’m just grabbing a drink,” she said with a soft laugh as Sungchan started to rise beside her like instinct.

“I’ll go with you,” he said almost immediately.

She smiled, placing a hand on his chest to gently stop him. “We’re surrounded by people, it’s okay. I’ll be just at the corner.”

He hesitated, eyes scanning the crowd again, then finally nodded. “Yell if anyone breathes wrong.”

She gave him an eye roll, smiled and headed toward the vending machines near the corner wall.

As her fingers hovered over the keypad, deciding between a peach soda or iced tea, movement from the side caught her eye.

It was her.

The same girl from the spaghetti incident. Standing awkwardly near the vending machine next to her, almost pretending to be interested in the snack options — but she wasn’t. Y/N could see her peripheral movements, subtle yet suspicious. And more telling: she wouldn’t meet Y/N’s gaze.

Something shifted. Her fingers trembled slightly as she lifted her phone ever so subtly —towards Y/N.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing?” she asked, stepping slightly closer. “Are you… taking a picture of me?”

The girl visibly flinched. Panic surged through her expression, her phone slipping from her grip and clattering onto the floor with a loud crack, before she could grab her phone Y/N had already stepped closer to her. Without saying a word the girl turned and bolted, disappearing around the corner in seconds.

Y/N stood frozen for a moment, the noise of the cafeteria fading into the background. She looked down slowly at the fallen phone — its screen still lit.

Curiosity — and dread — clawed at her gut.

She bent down and picked it up, intending to follow the girl… until her eyes locked onto the wallpaper.

Her heart stopped. It was a photo. The girl… and him.

The same guy from the party. The one with the hoodie and sunglasses. The one from the café. The same cold stare that made her skin crawl. He was smiling in the picture — arm slung around the girl like they were close.

Y/N’s breath hitched.

The device buzzed in her hand. A new message popped up on the lockscreen:

“Did you get it?”

She couldn’t move.

The sounds of the cafeteria rushed back all at once, but her focus was on the icy realization settling into her chest. The girl hadn’t bumped into her by accident. She’d been following her. Taking photos. For him.

A chill slid down her spine.

Without thinking, Y/N turned on her heel and rushed back toward her table, the phone still clutched tightly in her hand.

Sungchan stood before she even reached them, sensing something was wrong from her face alone.

“Y/N?” he asked sharply, already stepping closer. “What happened?”

She held out the phone, eyes wide. “Guys… look at this.”

Sunchan took one glance at the screen — and his entire expression changed

Sungchan stared at the phone in his hand like it had just confirmed his worst fear. The lockscreen image stared back at him — the girl from the cafeteria smiling brightly, pressed close to a man in a black hoodie and dark sunglasses. The same person who’d watched her at the café with that same unreadable, cold stare.

Y/N stood beside him, frozen. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding as dread slowly crept up her spine. “It’s him,” she said, voice just above a whisper. “I know it’s him.”

Sungchan’s jaw clenched, knuckles whitening as he held onto the phone. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. It's the guy from the café.. ” she murmured.

He didn’t question her again. He didn’t have to. Wonyoung approached, also looking at the phone screen.

Sungchan handed her the phone. “She was taking pictures of Y/N. Secretly. Y/N caught her doing it, and she bolted.”

Wonyoung’s eyes widened as she looked down at the lockscreen. “Wait, is this the…”

“The guy from the party,” Y/N confirmed softly. “From the café too.”

Anna stood next to Wonyoung now, peering at the image. “What the hell… She’s friends with him?”

“She dropped her phone when she ran,” Y/N added. “And right after, a message popped up.”

Sungchan tapped the screen again, showing them the text.

“Did you get it?”

The message was simple. But ominous.

The silence between the group deepened. Even Eunseok, who was normally the lighthearted joker, looked deadly serious now.

“This is a setup,” he muttered. “They’re keeping tabs on her.”

Yunjin crossed her arms, eyes narrowed. “Why? What does he want?”

“I don’t know yet,” Sungchan said, his voice low, “but he’s using people to get close. People we wouldn’t suspect. That girl — she was the same one from the spaghetti incident, right?”

Y/N nodded slowly, heart still pounding. “She bumped into me, spilled everything… and now she’s following me, taking pictures. For him.”

Anna’s eyes darted to the phone again. “She looks so normal. How is this even real?”

“It doesn’t matter how normal she looks,” Sungchan said, slipping the phone into his pocket carefully. “What matters is what she’s doing. And who she’s doing it for.”

“We should go back to the head office,” Wonyoung said. “Or the dean. Maybe even the police.”

“No,” Sungchan said. “We go to campus security first. They can check cameras. See if she’s been following Y/N anywhere else.”

“And the phone?” Yunjin asked.

Sungchan pulled out his own phone and quickly snapped photos — of the lockscreen, the messages, and the home screen. Then he handed the phone to Wonyoung. “We return it. But not before we back everything up.”

Y/N’s head was spinning. She felt Sungchan’s hand slip into hers and squeeze — grounding her.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

She looked at him, barely nodding. “I will be. I think. I just… I feel like I’m in a movie right now.”

Sungchan’s expression softened, but the fire behind his eyes didn’t dim. “I’m not letting anyone mess with you, Y/N.”

As the group moved as one toward the campus security office, Y/N stayed close to Sungchan, practically tucked into his side. His presence made her feel safe, steady — even as the world around her felt increasingly uncertain.

Every few steps, he glanced around the hallway, his jaw set, eyes sharp. Protective. Possessive. Like he was ready to fight off whatever shadows tried to reach for her.

And Y/N, though shaken, found herself deeply grateful for that.

They didn’t know who the man was. They didn’t know how far his reach extended or why Y/N was even a target. But what they did know — without question — was that he wasn’t finished.

And now, he’d made a mistake. Because he was no longer just watching Y/N from the shadows. He was being watched, too.

And Sungchan wasn’t about to let him win.

The atmosphere in the campus security office was sterile, the hum of overhead fluorescent lights doing little to ease the tension rippling through the group. The moment Y/N, Sungchan, and their friends stepped inside, the two officers behind the desk looked up — surprised at the sudden crowd.

Sungchan stepped forward first, his hand still securely wrapped around Y/N’s. His voice was calm, but it carried an unmistakable edge.

“We need to report something. It’s serious.”

One of the officers — Officer Min, an older man with kind but tired eyes — sat straighter. “What’s going on?”

Y/N pulled out her phone. “I caught someone taking secret photos of me in the cafeteria. This isn’t the first time something strange has happened. There’s a man who’s been… following me.”

Sungchan added, “The girl who took the pictures of Y/N ran when she got caught. We found her phone — and on her lockscreen is a photo of her and the guy we believe is stalking Y/N. She dropped it when she ran.”

Officer Min stood now, motioning for the group to follow him into a private room down the hall. “Let’s take this somewhere quieter.”

Inside the small conference-style security room, with a mounted screen and several camera feeds playing, the officers listened as Y/N and Sungchan laid everything out. They didn’t hold back.

From the strange man at the party, to the encounter at the café, to the girl’s behavior — the spaghetti accident, the vending machine, and the dropped phone with its alarming lockscreen. Y/N even mentioned the message that appeared right after the girl fled: “Did you get it?”

Officer Min frowned deeply as he took notes.

“This girl — did she have a student ID badge?”

“I'm not sure..” Y/N said slowly. “Now that I think about it, I’ve never seen her in any of my classes.”

The younger officer, Officer Jae, tapped rapidly at a keyboard, pulling up cafeteria security footage from earlier that day.

“There,” Anton pointed, stepping forward. “That’s her.”

The group leaned in.

The screen showed the girl lingering near the vending machine. The angle caught her side profile — slightly turned, phone raised discreetly toward Y/N. The moment Y/N turned to confront her, the girl flinched, dropped the phone, and ran.

“Back it up a few seconds,” Sungchan said tightly.

The footage rewound. There it was, clear as day — the flash of her screen, the open camera app, the image focused directly on Y/N’s back.

“She was definitely taking pictures,” Officer Jae muttered. “And she’s not registered in our system. Facial recognition flagged her as a ‘visitor,’ but there’s no visitor log for today.”

“Can you trace who she’s connected to?” Sungchan asked. “Maybe through the man in the photo?”

Officer Min leaned forward, adjusting his glasses. “We’ll need to run both of their faces through our visitor records. If they’ve been on campus before — even once — we’ll find a match. If not…” he sighed, “we may need to escalate this.”

Y/N swallowed hard. “To the police?”

“If this man has a pattern of stalking, harassment, or is posing as a student to gain access to you — then yes. We’ll involve law enforcement. But first, we’ll flag both individuals and alert building security. If either of them shows up again, they’ll be detained immediately.”

Sungchan’s hand tightened on Y/N’s. “And until then?”

“We’re putting a temporary campus watch on her schedule. You’ll have plainclothes officers nearby during class transitions. And if you’re staying in the dorms, we’ll put a patrol on your building too.”

Y/N blinked, overwhelmed but relieved. “Thank you.”

Before they left, Officer Jae transferred the security footage and screenshots of the girl and the hoodie-wearing man into an evidence folder. He handed Y/N a formal incident report to sign.

“Stay close to your friends. Don’t go anywhere alone until we clear this up.”

As the group stepped back out into the hallway, the mood was noticeably heavier. The sunlight filtering through the tall windows now felt colder — the warm buzz of campus dulled beneath the weight of a creeping unease.

Sungchan placed a steady hand on Y/N’s back, leaning close. “You're not alone in this. Not for a second.”

She nodded, grateful beyond words.

But as she looked back toward the doors of the security office — a single question burned at the edges of her thoughts.

Why her?

And what did the man in the hoodie want so badly… that he’d keep watching from the shadows?

The soft buzz of campus life had faded into the hush of evening, and outside Y/N’s dorm window, the world was bathed in a cooling twilight. Pale streaks of violet and gold melted into navy blue as the sun gave its final bow beyond the campus skyline.

But inside her room, the atmosphere was anything but calm.

Shoes were piled by the door, bags tucked against furniture in a clutter of urgency. It was far from spacious — barely enough floor space for everyone — but it didn’t matter. They all needed to be here.

Wonyoung sat cross-legged on the floor her long hair braided back by Yunjin while she scrolled through messages on her phone. Anna was at the desk chair, nervously twirling a pen between her fingers, while Winter and Seunghan spread a blanket across the floor, improvising a sleeping setup. Eunseok had taken it upon himself to plug in Y/N’s string lights, which now cast the room in a warm amber glow that softened the tension slightly.

Sungchan had stayed anchored to Y/N’s side since they arrived, his back propped against her bedframe, one arm resting protectively behind her shoulders as she leaned into him beneath a shared blanket. It was the kind of closeness that spoke without words — reassuring, grounding, essential.

“I texted Hoshi,” Sungchan murmured quietly to her, voice low enough not to disturb the ongoing chatter. “Told him we wouldn’t make it to rehearsal . He said it’s okay — said we should just focus on keeping safe.”

Y/N turned her head slightly toward him, catching his gaze in the soft lamplight. “That’s a relief,” she whispered. “I don’t think I could’ve danced tonight… not with everything spinning like this.”

“You don’t have to explain,” he said, gently brushing a thumb over her knuckles.

Across the room, Winter slurped at her ramen and gestured vaguely toward the window. “Still can’t believe we’re stuck on campus. I mean — I get it, safety first, but—”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t even feel safe outside the gates right now,” Anna muttered. “Not after what's going on.”

That hushed the room a little.

Wonyoung’s voice was gentler than usual when she asked, “Y/N… can you walk us through it again? Just so we’re all on the same page?”

Y/N nodded slowly, pulling the blanket a little higher over her legs as Sungchan’s arm tightened around her in silent support.

“At the party… I didn’t see his face. He wore a hoodie pulled low, sunglasses even inside, which was weird enough, the vibe he gave off.. i didn't feel safe for some reason. He suddenly grabbed onto me as if trying to drag me with him and didn't let go of me until Sungchan arrived. The guy didn't even say anything at all, not a word even before Sungchan was with me.”

She paused, taking a breath. “Then again at the café, just yesterday. When i bumped into someone and when i was about to apologise, he just stared at me again without saying anything... i just knew it was him. The same presence. That same feeling — like my stomach just dropped. He stared like he knew me. I thought maybe I imagined it…”

“But it was the same guy from the wallpaper on that girl’s phone,” Yunjin added, already halfway through the thought with her. “That proves it wasn’t just some random café stranger.”

“Exactly.” Y/N’s voice was quieter now. “And that girl? She couldn’t even look me in the eye. Like she knew what she was doing was wrong. I caught her taking a picture of me.”

Winter blinked, sitting forward. “She dropped her phone and ran, right?”

Y/N nodded. “I picked it up, and when I saw her lockscreen…” She shook her head. “It was her, smiling beside him.”

Sungchan’s jaw was tight as he listened, visibly holding back anger. “And she doesn’t even go here,” he added, glancing around at the group. “Security checked the system. She isn’t a student. Which means that guy — whoever he is — sent her. To spy. To watch.”

Everyone went still.

“Okay,” Anton finally said, looking at the others, “-so let’s be real. This isn’t just a creepy crush stalker.”

Wonyoung was the one to break the silence next. “We should all stay together for a while. Until we figure out what this is.”

Seunghan nodded, serious for once. “Nobody walks around alone. Even for water or snacks or the bathroom.”

Winter gave a dramatic sigh. “Well. Time to relive the dorm sleepovers of high school.”

Yunjin smirked. “Difference is, back then it was over bad grades and exes. Now it’s actual stalkers.”

As the group moved into action — pushing desks slightly aside, grabbing pillows, creating an overlapping patchwork of blankets and cushions on the floor — the mood lightened slightly. Y/N found herself smiling despite it all, tucked into Sungchan’s side, hearing her friends bicker about who got which side of the blanket or whose playlist should be on next.

“I call dibs on the wall side,” Anna called.

“I’m not sleeping next to Eunseok again,” Anton said with a groan. “He kicks in his sleep.”

“Lies,” Eunseok shot back. “That was you.”

“Shhh,” Wonyoung scolded. “Let Sungchan and Y/N have their moment of post-trauma coupledom in peace.”

Y/N blushed but didn’t argue. She felt his fingers brush lightly against hers beneath the blanket. Their moment.

Later, when the room had quieted — music soft, lights dimmed to low glows, and everyone nestled into their sleeping spots — Sungchan leaned closer, his voice a murmur beside her ear.

“I know you’re scared. But I promise you… I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Y/N rested her forehead against his, whispering, “I know.”

The air outside Y/N’s dorm was cool, the late-night stillness broken only by the soft rustling of trees and distant hums of the campus night crew. Sungchan quietly pulled the door shut behind him, careful not to make a sound that might disturb the sleeping group inside — especially Y/N.

He paused, exhaling, and ran a hand through his hair.

That moment of quiet was broken when he glanced to his left and found Sunwoo leaning casually against the wall, hoodie up, phone tucked into his pocket as if he’d been waiting there a while.

“I got your message about the situation, sir,” Sunwoo murmured as Sungchan stepped toward him.

Sungchan offered his hand, and the two clasped it in a firm shake, tension crackling like electricity between them. “Thanks, Woo. I couldn't just sit back and wait on school security. We both know that’s not enough.”

Sunwoo gave a single nod, sharp and understanding. “The hyungs are already tracking the guy. Don’t worry. If he’s still around, we’ll find him.”

A third figure emerged from the edge of the corridor — tall, composed, with eyes that missed nothing.

Juyeon.

Sungchan nodded in recognition. “Hyung.”

“Sir,” Juyeon greeted, tone clipped and professional as always. “We’ve been digging through public records and private databases. I think we finally understand what’s going on.”

Without wasting another word, the three of them made their way quickly to Sungchan’s dorm. Once inside, the door was locked, blinds drawn tight. The atmosphere shifted — from campus dorm to something that felt more like a command center.

Juyeon placed a folded file on Sungchan’s desk, spreading it open.

“His name is Han Minchul, 28. Former marketing lead at a mid-sized pharmaceutical company in Seoul. The guy was sharp, had a clean record for years.”

Sungchan scanned the top of the report, flipping through official-looking documents, photo IDs, and what looked like surveillance stills. “And?”

Sunwoo stepped forward, his voice dropping. “He got fired almost a year ago. Not for theft or misconduct. But his mental stability started declining. His behavior was erratic — delusions, obsessive paranoia. His coworkers noted he kept saying someone was ‘out to ruin him.’”

Juyeon added, “We tracked down the formal HR complaint. The person who officially signed off on his termination — was Y/N’s mother. She was on the board at the time. Apparently, she made the final call.”

Sungchan’s eyes flicked up sharply, his knuckles tightening on the file. Sunwoo hesitated, then said what they were all thinking.

“After the termination, Minchul’s daughter — she was sick. Long-term chronic illness. Medical costs were piling up. With no income, no benefits… she didn’t make it. She passed away five months after he was let go.”

The room went painfully silent.

Juyeon’s voice was grave now. “We think he blames Y/N’s mom. And he’s projecting all that hate — all that loss — onto Y/N. From what we’ve seen… he’s been watching her for days. Gathering patterns.’”

Sungchan felt his breath catch in his chest, a cold fury blooming in his veins.

“Why didn’t anyone catch this sooner?” he muttered, voice taut. “Why didn’t school security flag this creep if he’s been on campus?”

“Because he’s good at slipping through cracks,” Sunwoo replied. “Friends with someone who pretended to be a student — that girl who dropped her phone perhaps.”

Sungchan paced once, rubbing his hands together as his jaw clenched. The image of Y/N sleeping peacefully on his shoulder just few minutes ago flashed in his mind. The soft rise and fall of her breathing. The way she relaxed completely in his presence.

He wasn’t going to let anything threaten that. Sungchan’s eyes narrowed. As Juyeon and Sunwoo continued quietly discussing next steps and route coverage, Sungchan found himself drifting out of focus — their voices distant, muffled by the weight of a memory that now played painfully clear in his mind.

That night. The party. The hooded guy in sunglasses who had brushed by Y/N like he owned the air around her. Sungchan had noticed him — had felt something off even then. The way the man’s head tilted as he watched Y/N from across the room. How he lingered just a little too long near her, moving like he belonged when he clearly didn’t.

Why didn’t I follow him? Sungchan thought bitterly, his jaw clenching.

He should’ve gone after him. Should’ve trusted his instincts. Instead, he’d dismissed it — wrote it off as a stranger who was probably just another socially awkward student trying to sneak into a party.

But it wasn’t just that. Now he knew that look. That intensity. It wasn’t curiosity or confusion.

It was obsession.

His fist tightened, knuckles pale against the wooden desk as guilt clawed at his chest. He had missed it. Missed the warning signs. And now that mistake had spiraled into something much more dangerous. Something that had made his girl — his doll — feel unsafe, unprotected, watched for who knows how long.

That thought alone nearly broke him.

Sungchan stared at the photo on the file again — Minchul’s image frozen in grainy black and white. Unshaven, empty eyes. A ghost of someone who had once been whole.

His heart ached with protectiveness, his mind already playing out worst-case scenarios he refused to let happen. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to Y/N because of someone else’s grudge.

“She trusted me,” he murmured under his breath.

Juyeon looked up. “What?”

Sungchan didn’t answer directly. He took a breath instead, steadying himself.

“I should’ve done something at the party. I knew something was off, even back then. I could’ve stopped this earlier.”

Sunwoo placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “You can’t blame yourself for something you didn’t fully see. What matters now is what we do from here.”

Sungchan nodded slowly, but the guilt still lingered in the curve of his shoulders.

She trusted him. And from now on, he would make damn sure no one could ever make her feel unsafe again.

“Let’s finish prepping the safehouse,” Sungchan said, voice low and serious. “I’m getting her out of here tonight.”

Sungchan had just closed the door to his dorm, ready to head back to Y/N. His heart was still heavy with everything he’d just learned, but his only focus now was getting back to her — wrapping her in his arms, holding her safe.

But then he saw it. A shadow.

A figure standing still too long, too close to the path near Y/N’s dorm. The dim light from the old lamp overhead flickered just enough to catch movement — a flash of something metallic in the man’s hand, maybe a keychain, maybe a phone. But the way he stood…

It was him, Minchul.

And just like that — Sungchan didn’t think. He ran.

“YAH!” he shouted, his voice echoing across the campus. “HEY! STOP RIGHT THERE!”

The figure got startled and turned around. Even under the shadows of the hood, Sungchan knew it was him — the same man from the café, the party, the goddamn photo.

Minchul spun on his heel and bolted in the opposite direction. “GO!” Sungchan barked to Sunwoo and Juyeon who were just seconds behind him. Without a word, the two older males sprang into motion, fanning out to trap him from the sides.

Minchul darted between buildings, vaulting over a low wall as if he knew the layout of the campus already. He tried to cut through the garden path, but Juyeon was already there — blocking the side exit with a glare.

Minchul swerved and tried to retreat, only to run straight into Sungchan.

Sungchan didn’t hesitate. He grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall with a force that shocked even himself.

“You sick bastard.” His voice trembled, equal parts rage and adrenaline. “You’ve been following her? Watching her?!”

Minchul didn’t answer — eyes wide, not with fear… but something unhinged. His lips curled into something between a smirk and a grimace.

“You’re making a mistake.” Minchul muttered, voice hoarse.

“You already did,” Sunwoo growled as he grabbed Minchul’s wrists, forcing his hands behind his back.

The commotion had drawn attention. A security guard rushed over, flashlight in hand, followed by two more. Juyeon flashed his ID — not from the school, but one that made the guards pause immediately.

“Private protection unit,” Juyeon said smoothly.

Sungchan released Minchul’s collar with a shove. “Make sure you lock this sick bastard up.”

Sungchan’s jaw tightened. His chest rose and fell, his voice cold and deliberate.

The guards nodded and took over, cuffing Minchul properly now as he spat nonsense under his breath. Sungchan’s hands were still shaking as he backed away, watching the man disappear into the shadows, finally contained.

Only then did Juyeon step closer, lowering his voice. “We’ll press charges immediately. With what we’ve found, he won’t get near campus again. We’ll take it from here.”

Sungchan nodded, still catching his breath.

But his heart had already returned to one place — Y/N.

He turned and sprinted back towards her dorm. Not caring about noise, not caring if the others woke up. He needed to see her. To hold her. To make sure she was okay.

Because even though Minchul was in custody now, the aftershocks of what could’ve happened still ran deep.

The door to Y/N’s dorm opened with a sharp click and a creak that was louder than Sungchan intended. “Shit—” he muttered under his breath, wincing. But the noise had already done its damage.

Winter sat up first, her eyes bleary but instantly alert. Wonyoung stirred next, then Anna and Yunjin — each of them blinking through sleep, heads rising in confusion and low murmurs of “What’s going on?”

The boys were just as fast — Eunseok rubbing at his eyes while Anton and Seunghan sat up like startled cats, looking toward the door, instincts flaring.

Only Y/N was still tucked beneath the blanket, curled softly where Sungchan had left her — the pillow now cradling her cheek.

Then their eyes fell on him.

Sungchan stood in the doorway, chest rising and falling a little too fast. His hoodie hung loosely on his frame, tousled hair falling into his eyes. His gaze scanned the room quickly before it found her — Y/N, asleep… safe.

He exhaled, the tension finally leaving his body. And then he said it, voice quiet but still breaking the silence.

“They got him.”

That was all it took.

Everyone in the room jolted awake, fully alert now.

“Wait— what?” Anna said, already moving closer.

“Who?” Eunseok asked sharply, but he already had a feeling.

“The guy,” Sungchan clarified, finally stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “The guy, named Minchul. We caught him just outside. He was lurking around the dorms.”

The room fell eerily quiet.

Winter’s eyes widened. “He was here? Around our dorms?!”

Sungchan nodded grimly, running a hand through his hair. “I spotted him on my way back. We chased him down. He ran— but my friends Sunwoo and Juyeon helped me corner him. He’s in the hands of the authorities now.”

“Holy shit…” Jaemin muttered, falling back onto the couch, overwhelmed.

“Is he going to jail?” Wonyoung asked, voice quiet.

“We’re pushing charges,” Sungchan confirmed. “Everything Juyeon found about him— it’s enough. Stalking, trespassing, harassment... He’s not coming near her again.”

No one spoke for a moment. The weight of what had almost happened lingered heavy in the air.

And then Y/N stirred.

A soft sound left her lips as she blinked, slowly waking up, head shifting on the pillow — until her sleepy eyes met his. “...Chan?” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

Sungchan crossed the room in seconds.

He crouched beside her, brushing a hand gently through her hair, letting his fingers trail behind her ear. His other hand wrapped around her fingers, like he had before.

“Hey,” he whispered, voice far softer now. “I’m here.”

Her brows furrowed, eyes starting to focus. “Did something happen…?”

Sungchan swallowed, giving her a soft smile. “Not anymore. He’s gone. You’re safe.”

The confusion in her eyes melted into quiet understanding — then concern.

“You saw him?”

Sungchan nodded, not letting go of her hand. “We caught him. He won’t touch you. Ever.” The others gave the two of them space now, sitting back quietly, letting the moment unfold.

Y/N sat up slowly, her blanket still wrapped around her. She stared at Sungchan for a long beat, then without another word, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck.

“I was so scared…” she whispered, voice muffled.

“I know, doll.” Sungchan closed his eyes, arms locking around her tightly. “But I’m here now. I’m not letting you go.”

The Next Morning – Head Office

The morning sun streamed through the tall campus windows, but the brightness did little to ease the tension that filled the air.

Y/N sat in the head office flanked by her friends, Sungchan beside her with his hand gently wrapped around hers. His thumb rubbed soothing circles over her skin — a quiet reminder that she wasn’t alone.

Across the room, seated stiffly in a chair, was the girl from the cafeteria. The same one who had bumped into Y/N at the vending machine, the one whose phone wallpaper had unraveled the truth. Now, she sat with her head bowed, hands fidgeting nervously in her lap.

The room was silent until the principal cleared his throat and folded his hands on the desk.

“Thank you all for coming this morning,” he began calmly, eyes scanning the group. “I know yesterday was intense. But after an internal review and some additional questioning, there are things you need to know.”

Y/N sat up straighter.

The principal’s eyes turned toward the girl seated in the corner. “This is Jiyeon,” he said. “And while her actions may have seemed suspicious at first… we’ve since learned she wasn’t acting out of malice.”

Jiyeon raised her head, lips trembling slightly as her gaze met Y/N’s. She looked like she hadn’t slept. Dark circles ringed her eyes, and her expression carried deep remorse.

“I—I’m so sorry,” Jiyeon said, her voice trembling. “I didn’t want to take that photo. I didn’t want to follow you. I swear I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

Y/N blinked, startled by the sudden vulnerability in the girl’s tone.

Jiyeon continued, eyes glistening. “Minchul… he lives in the unit across from mine. Ever since he got fired, he hasn’t been right. He started watching people. Following them. And when he figured out I went to the same school as you, he—he started threatening me.”

Everyone in the room stilled.

“What kind of threats?” Eunseok asked quietly, his voice now serious.

“He said if I didn’t help him, he’d hurt my little brother,” Jiyeon whispered. “He has pictures of my family. I didn’t know what else to do. He said I just had to get one picture of Y/N… that’s all. I was scared. I didn’t know it would go this far.”

Silence settled thick in the room, tension coiling in the air.

Y/N felt her chest tighten. She glanced up at Sungchan, whose jaw was locked but whose grip on her hand stayed calm, steady — grounding.

“Why didn’t you tell someone?” Wonyoung asked softly, but not unkindly.

“I was ashamed,” Jiyeon said. “And I didn’t think anyone would believe me.”

The principal nodded slowly. “We verified her story. After Minchul was taken into custody, several pieces of evidence were uncovered — including threatening messages to Jiyeon. She’s a victim too, even if her role was difficult to understand at first.”

Jiyeon stood up slowly and walked a few hesitant steps toward Y/N. “I never meant to hurt you,” she said, voice thick. “If I could go back, I’d do everything differently. I really am sorry.”

Y/N looked at the girl standing before her — not as a threat anymore, but as someone who had also been trapped by fear. It didn’t erase what had happened, but in that moment, Y/N could see the trembling honesty in Jiyeon’s eyes.

“I believe you,” Y/N said quietly, her voice stronger than she expected. “But promise me next time… you ask for help. No one should go through something like that alone.”

Jiyeon nodded, tears welling up as she bowed low in apology before the principal gently ushered her out with a staff escort.

As the door clicked shut behind her, the room released a collective breath.

Sungchan turned to Y/N, his free hand brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You okay?” he asked softly.

Y/N nodded. “Yeah. I think I will be.”

The principal spoke again, his tone more formal. “Thank you both for your courage. The school will be implementing new measures to improve student safety. And Jiyeon… will be given support, not punishment. We believe this entire situation was manipulated by someone who preyed on fear.”

Y/N nodded slowly, squeezing Sungchan’s hand just a bit tighter.

Outside the window, the day looked deceptively normal — students milling about, unaware of the storm that had just begun to clear. But inside that office, something had shifted.

The danger had passed.

And now, finally, healing could begin.

A Few Weeks Later – Final Performance Day

The campus theater was buzzing with energy. The wide stage was lit by soft amber lights, and the rows of seats were gradually filling with students, professors, and invited judges. Whispers floated through the room — a mixture of nerves, excitement, and anticipation.

Backstage, Y/N stood in front of a mirror, adjusting the sleeve of her flowing performance outfit. The sound of music echoed faintly from the stage as another pair finished their performance. Her friends stood nearby — Winter helping her with her hair, Wonyoung humming softly to ease the tension, and Yunjin shaking out her hands with nervous energy.

They had all come so far.

“You ready?” Sungchan’s warm voice pulled Y/N back to the present.

She turned to find him standing beside her, already dressed in his sleek black outfit for the performance. He looked calm, but she knew him well enough to see the glint of adrenaline in his eyes. Before she could answer, he gently leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

“We’re going to do great,” he whispered with a small smile, his fingers intertwining with hers. “Just like we always have. You and me — we've got this.”

Y/N’s lips curled into a nervous but excited smile. “Yeah,” she breathed. “We’ve got this.”

That’s when a familiar voice spoke up behind them, making them both jump slightly.

“You’re up next.”

Hoshi stood there with his arms crossed, a proud but serious expression on his face. Somehow, he had appeared without a sound — classic Hoshi behavior. He gave them both a once-over, nodding in approval.

“Dance like you did every time during rehearsals,” he said, voice low and supportive. “There’s a panel of instructors and guest choreographers out there. They’ll be scoring you individually, but also as a pair. I know you both. I know what you can do.” His eyes lingered on them for a moment longer. “I believe in your chemistry. Now go show them why.”

Sungchan and Y/N shared one last look.

All the rehearsals. All the tension. All the moments shared — from playful teasing to whispered secrets, stolen kisses, and terrifying encounters — everything had led to this. This performance wasn’t just about dance anymore. It was about trust. Growth. Connection.

It was about them.

They walked hand in hand to the side of the stage, the music from the last performance fading out. A crew member motioned for them to get into position.

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle in her chest.

Sungchan leaned down and murmured just before they stepped into the light, “Let’s make them feel it.”

And with that, the spotlight came on — illuminating them as they took the stage together.

--

The final beat of the music echoed through the auditorium like a held breath finally being released.

Y/N and Sungchan stood in the center of the stage, faces flushed, chests rising and falling with heavy breaths. The lights above cast a soft glow around them, framing the perfect stillness that followed their final pose — her hand cupped in his, foreheads close, like the moment had frozen in time.

And then, it came.

Applause.

It started slow, almost stunned. Then a wave of claps and cheers surged through the room like a tide. A few students whistled. Professors nodded. Even some of the tougher guest choreographers — the ones rumored to never react — offered restrained but approving claps.

Backstage, their friends jumped up from their seats, clapping wildly. Winter and Wonyoung were already hugging each other in excitement, while Yunjin wiped away a stray tear and mouthed “YOU KILLED IT.”

Hoshi stood with his arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips. “That,” he whispered to himself, “is what I call chemistry.”

Sungchan helped Y/N steady herself as they took their final bow. She was still catching her breath, and for a moment, her eyes stayed locked with his.

It wasn’t just a performance. Not anymore.

As they exited the stage, their hands still linked, Y/N turned to him, cheeks burning with adrenaline and something softer, deeper.

“I think we actually did it,” she whispered.

Sungchan leaned closer, brushing a strand of hair from her damp forehead. “You were perfect.”

“No,” she laughed breathlessly. “We were perfect.”

Before either of them could say more, their friends swarmed them backstage — hugs, cheers, compliments all overlapping into a chorus of celebration.

“That last lift?! I swear, I saw one of the judges gasp,” Winter said.

“I was about to cry,” Wonyoung added dramatically, pulling Y/N into a tight hug. “It was like a romance movie ending. Seriously.”

“You two have no idea how many people were whispering about you guys the moment you walked on,” Yunjin teased. “Some girl behind me said she felt the tension from the second the music started.”

“You mean passion,” Sunghoon corrected, nudging Sungchan. “Bro, that was... wow.”

Sungchan simply smiled, eyes never really leaving Y/N. “She made it easy.”

The celebration continued for a while — group selfies, faculty offering compliments, classmates asking to dance with them sometime in the future.

But somewhere in all the noise and praise, Sungchan found Y/N’s hand again, holding it with quiet certainty. No pressure. Just presence.

And in that small moment of calm between the chaos, Y/N leaned into him, whispering, “So… what happens after this?”

Sungchan looked at her with a smile that said he’d already been thinking about it.

“Whatever you want,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N didn’t feel like she had to run, hide, or figure it all out alone.

She just smiled and held his hand tighter.

The tension in the auditorium was sharp — a quiet buzz of nerves humming beneath the surface as everyone sat shoulder to shoulder, waiting.

The final performances had ended. The judges, faculty, and guest choreographers were now gathered at the front of the stage, papers and clipboards in hand. Hoshi stood near them, arms crossed behind his back like a proud older brother trying to stay professional.

Y/N sat in the middle of her group, her leg bouncing slightly as Sungchan gently rested his hand over her knee to calm her. She looked over at him, and he gave her a small, knowing smile.

“They loved us,” he whispered.

“I know,” she whispered back. “But I’m still gonna throw up.”

Winter, sitting beside her, snorted softly. “Same.”

The microphone buzzed once as the lead judge stepped forward. She was stern, composed, and rarely smiled — someone who didn’t hand out praise easily. That only made the quiet tension worse.

“We’d like to thank all of you,” she began, scanning the sea of students. “This year’s final test was unlike any before. The level of performance, choreography, and especially chemistry between partners... exceeded expectations.”

A beat passed.

“After thorough discussion among the panel,” she continued, flipping to the last page of the results, “we’ve selected three final pairs to receive top marks and recognition for outstanding excellence. These three pairs will also be recommended for the upcoming national showcase.”

A hushed wave of whispers passed through the audience.

“The third pair is…” she paused, reading the names. “Kim Jiwoo and Nam Dohyun.”

Polite applause.

“The second pair — Min Ahri and Ji Changmin.”

More applause. Excited gasps from their table.

“And the first, top-scoring pair of the year — the ones with the highest cumulative score in technique, musicality, and partner synergy…”

Y/N held her breath.

“Jung Sungchan and Moon Y/N.”

The entire table exploded into cheers.

Y/N barely had time to process it before her friends were yanking her up from her chair, hugging her, squealing, jumping. Winter was crying. Wonyoung was hugging both Sungchan and Y/N at once. Sunghoon clapped Sungchan hard on the back, almost knocking him forward.

Y/N looked at Sungchan in awe. “Did she really say—?”

“You heard her,” Sungchan grinned, beaming down at her. “We did it.”

“We did it,” she repeated, stunned, laughter bubbling in her chest.

Hoshi appeared out of nowhere and pulled them both into a quick, proud hug. “Told you your chemistry would be lethal. You’ve both grown so much since day one.”

As they walked to the front of the auditorium to accept their certificates and recognition, the applause still ringing in their ears, Y/N squeezed Sungchan’s hand tightly.

The two stood side by side as their photos were taken, the camera flash capturing a thousand things words couldn’t say — pride, relief, happiness... and something stronger, something enduring.

Later, when the crowd began to filter out, Sungchan turned to her, voice soft. “You looked like a star up there.”

Y/N smiled. “I felt like one.”

“You are one,” he murmured.

And before she could argue, Sungchan leaned in and kissed her — not rushed, not overwhelmed by adrenaline this time. Just quiet, full of promise, right there on stage where it had all started.

For the first time in weeks, everything felt still — not out of fear or uncertainty, but peace.

This wasn’t just the end of the semester.

It was the beginning of something real.