enhastolemyheart

[enhastolemyheart]

. . . e q u i l i b r i u m | 5

she says, “oh, we could do whatever you want, but boy, don’t go falling in love.” /// chase atlantic, her

pairing: yeonjun x fem!reader

summary: it takes a long time to fully explore the thin line between love and hate. but seven minutes is a good start.

genre: academic rival!yeonjun / college au / enemies to lovers au

warnings: slow burn, mutual pining, strong language, suggestive themes, reader’s violent tendencies at jun’s provocations (they’re both Insane ok), mentions of a minor car accident & resulting scratches, non-stop arguing as always, but also them lying to themselves for 9k words straight

words: 8.9k

masterlist / read from the beginning

✦ • ──── FEBRUARY 25, 2025. 9 AM

Next week, the workshop returned to its natural order: with Yeonjun reclaiming the spotlight as if it were his birthright, and reducing you to his unwilling stagehand.

You saw none of his nervous fidgeting today, but there was an amused smirk on his face when you stumbled over the introduction at the start of the seminar. He waited, with a curiosity he knew you’d understand, to see if he’d catch your gaze—if you’d look at him to blur the rest of the classroom and curb your anxiety.

You didn’t.

And, unfortunately, that wasn’t the only thing that didn’t go according to his plan today.

Last week, the two of you had presented your quiz results to your professors, and updated your study plan accordingly—and today, your undergrads showed that they found that plan about as riveting as watching paint dry. By the time they returned for the second half of the workshop after a fifteen-minute break, you and Yeonjun were talking to a roomful of drooping eyelids.

Out of sheer mercy, you skipped a few of Yeonjun’s slides, forcing him to stutter awkwardly for a second, then glare at you, demanding an explanation. You shrugged, signalling him to get on with it; the classroom was comatose anyway.

When the class finally ended, Yeonjun looked simply affronted.

You started this workshop with sixty active students two weeks ago.

Today, you had twenty-five sleeping ones.

You’d seen this happen when you were in undergrad, too. Voluntary attendance had a way of helping people realise they preferred to sleep in. Or just not come.

You’d anticipated this and told Yeonjun it was normal. He refused to believe you.

“We’ve got to do something,” he insisted once you settled for your now-customary Tuesday lunch in the canteen. “Or by the end of the term, we’ll have two students left. You and me.”

You didn’t look up from your plate. “That’s fine, then.”

“It’s not fine.” He stabbed his potatoes as if they had personally insulted him. “They’re skipping because we’re doing something wrong. Maybe we’re not involving them enou—”

“They’re skipping because they’re twenty,” you interrupted, finally looking up at him.

The band-aid across his nose surprised you again.

He’d had a “racing accident,” as he’d called it, over the weekend. You hadn’t been there, nor did you care to be. But judging by the way Yeonjun dodged explaining what had happened, you suspected the band-aid to be the result of a spectacularly stupid mistake. You regretted missing it just a bit.

“They, uh—they want to get wasted on Fridays and recover on Wednesdays,” you continued. “Their thesis feels like a distant problem. It’s nothing personal.”

Yeonjun continued to chew with enough fervour to bite through the table.

“If the workshop was interesting enough,” he said, “they’d show up.”

“They find parties interesting,” you returned, twirling noodles around your fork. “Can’t believe I’ve got to explain that to someone like you.”

His head jerked up. “Th—someone like me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

You swallowed before speaking, the spices and dried vegetables prickling your tongue.

“You skip classes all the time,” you said, waving your fork at his nose. “Go out drinking, drag-racing. D’you do that because classes aren’t interesting? ‘Course not. You do it because drinking’s more fun.”

Yeonjun studied you for a moment. He, too, was acutely aware of his band-aid. It covered up nothing more than a simple scratch, but he hadn’t yet determined what spared him from something worse – the airbags or just sheer luck. He recalled losing control of the car—perhaps because of the rain—and then not much else.

“I love it when you ask questions and answer them, too,” he said finally. “This is exactly why students are skipping our class.”

You regarded your noodles with an undeserved scowl, then finished them in a few quick bites.

“M’saying stop being so self-centred,” you retorted. “They’re not skipping because of us. They’re skipping because no one checks if they came.”

“Maybe we should check, then.”

Reaching for your glass of water, you began to realise that he wasn’t just complaining for the sake of complaining. He really cared. He wanted the students to find the class interesting. To find him interesting.

You took a long sip and surmised that this must’ve felt like rejection to him—and it might’ve been the first time he’d ever felt it.

“They’ll look up our slides when the time comes,” you said, a tad more sympathetically. “Right now, they just don’t care.”

Yeonjun grumbled something incoherent and finished the last of his potatoes in two grim mouthfuls.

“By the way,” he added, mid-bite, “I don’t skip classes just for fun. I also skip when they’re useless.”

Your sympathy deflated like a tired balloon.

“Right, sure.” You gathered your utensils and your plates. “And you’re exactly the person to judge what’s useful, of course.”

“Of course,” he echoed. “Who else would?”

You squinted at his self-righteous expression.

Sometimes, he reminded you of those troublesome kids at the back of the class in secondary school, seemingly questioning the very concept of education. Why learn Maths when everybody had calculators? Why study History if it’s all already happened anyway?

“Hmm.” You stood up. “Has your prefrontal cortex even finished developing?”

Yeonjun blinked up at you. “My prefro—”

“Oh, my bad,” you cut in. “Can’t develop one if you haven’t got a brain to begin with.”

His brows drew together at the grin spreading across your face. Without feeling himself do it, he rose, too, blocking your path.

“Your jokes are juvenile,” he informed you when you gave him a questioning look, the proud smile on your lips unyielding. He could hardly look away from it. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

“No.” You veered around him. “I don’t allow that sort of negativity in my life. You’re an unfortunate exception.”

You returned your plates with a nod to the canteen staff, then found Yeonjun trailing after you, quite pleased to be your only exception.

“You can’t be serious,” he said. “All you do is surround yourself with negativity, then try to change that.”

You paused in the middle of folding out your jacket. “What?”

He nodded, facilitating his point. “Why else would you try so hard to make everyone like you?”

Blinking away, you gripped the jacket tighter and kept walking.

“Why else would you never skip class?” Yeonjun went after you, eyes sparkling with an almost predatory glee. “God forbid someone catches you doing something fun instead—and thinks you’re irresponsible. The horror.”

A muscle in your neck twitched. He caught it and added it to his subconscious scorebook. The two of you were neck-and-neck there, much to his dismay. You’ve landed some decent shots, too.

“Might be hard for you to hear,” you said, “but I have skipped classes for fun before.”

“Sure. In fifth grade, maybe.”

“All through undergrad, actually.”

He gave you a look that wasn’t so much sceptical as it was pitiying. He thought you were grasping at straws to prove him wrong.

“Can’t remember a single time that happened,” he said.

“Oh.” You tilted your head at the confidence in his words. “Keeping tabs on my attendance, are you?”

His lips curved. “Just saying. With your perfect record, I’d probably notice.”

“Maybe you weren’t there to notice it.”

He arched his brows at the suggestion as you pushed through the canteen doors and crossed the corridor in several impressive strides.

“Oh, wow!” he called after you, mystified about having to jog to keep up. Theoretically, he should’ve had the longer legs. “Did you skip because I wasn’t there?”

Already at the stairs, you shot him a sharp look over your shoulder.

“Yes,” you said. “I dread being able to focus in class without somebody behind me providing frat-boy commentary. Better not go at all.”

Yeonjun beamed. He’d spend years perfecting the art of sitting just close enough to get on your nerves, but never close enough for you to do anything about it.

“Yeah, makes sense,” he said, ignoring your sarcasm. “Figured it didn’t bother you, or you would’ve—”

“Oh—good!” a voice called from the doorway to your left. “I’m so glad to see you two here.”

You turned to see Professor Kang on the doorstep of an auditorium, evidently on his way to his Gender Studies lecture. His arms were stacked with papers that threatened to spill at the slightest flinch. His gaze flickered between you and Yeonjun with a curiosity that you could’ve lived without.

You’d liked the professor in undergrad because he didn’t mind you and Reina napping in the back row, but his habit of making inappropriate jokes and never finishing lectures on time hadn’t earned him much affection.

“Professor,” you said, immediately taking a half-step away from Yeonjun and closer to the railing of the stairs. “Can we help you?”

“Wanted to check in,” he said. “I missed your presentation last week. How’s the workshop going? Students behaving?”

You glanced at Yeonjun just as he was glancing over at you. Professor Kang would likely supervise half of your undergrads’ theses if they didn’t change topics. You hoped they would.

“Uh, they are, yes,” you said. “Still got twenty-five of them showing up, so we’re doing well.”

“Oh, that’s very well indeed,” the professor said warmly. You shot Yeonjun an I-told-you-so look, to which he responded with an I-don’t-give-a-fuck glance. “I’m thrilled it’s working out. Got to admit, everyone was rather worried about it at first.”

You nodded reluctantly, assuming the faculty had worried about you hosting the workshop alone—hence Yeonjun’s last-minute addition.

“Professor Myers said—” you began, but Yeonjun’s voice bulldozed yours, unnaturally bright.

“It’s certainly working out, professor,” he said, presenting a smile so polished that it belonged on a presidential campaign poster.

Your brows furrowed at the interruption. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught the twitch of his fingers as he moved his hands behind his back, bending them at an almost painful angle.

You took a step forward to prevent him from speaking over you again.

“Professor Myers mentioned that, uh, she’s pleased with the workshop now,” you said.

“Well—” Professor Kang said, adjusting the papers. One slipped out, and you crouched down to grab it. “Thanks, dear. Ah—yes, of course, we’re all pleased now. But selecting two students to co-host was a gamble, really. Would’ve been a right disaster if you couldn’t get on.”

This confused you – if they knew having two co-hosts was a ‘gamble,’ why pair you with Yeonjun, of all people, at the last possible moment? He had claimed his parents weren’t involved in the decision, but you found your old doubts resurfacing.

“Right,” you said slowly, glancing at Yeonjun again. His jaw was set as though he was in line for the death penalty.

“Personally,” the professor continued, his tone almost paternal, “I knew we could rely on you two. Seemed like a safe choice to me. I was just telling Dr Myers the other day what a lovely couple the two of you were.”

Your gaze snapped to him in horror.

Right away, you felt your tongue swell as if hellhounds themselves had grasped it in their slobbering jaws and were now dragging it to the underworld.

This, you thought, was your worst nightmare being rendered in real-time: high definition, surround sound, the full package.

“Oh—w-we are—we’re not—” you stammered, words tripping over your suddenly useless mouth.

Yeonjun stepped neatly forward, partially shielding you.

“Thank you, Professor,” he said lightly. “Have a nice day.”

“Ah, yes, yes.” Professor Kang glanced at his papers, as though only now remembering where he’d been headed. “You, too! Yes.”

Still feeling like you’d been whacked with a giant flyswatter, you allowed Yeonjun to nudge your elbow, guiding you towards the stairs.

You only managed to inhale two floors below, once the door of the building shut behind you, and you were able to feel the cold winter air.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “He thinks we’re a couple.”

“I know,” Yeonjun said, smile spreading again. In your horror, you completely forgot the odd strain in his hands earlier—he seemed relieved now. “Thought I was about to watch you flatten a professor.”

“You were!”

He laughed outright this time, shrugging his coat on. Then, he took a few steps down to the path leading into the quad, and you found yourself reflexively keeping pace.

“Saved you the regret,” he said. “Now you can sleep easy.”

“Now I’ve got to sleep knowing our professors think we’re a couple.”

He sighed theatrically. “No, you’re right. This is catastrophic. How will we ever get through this?”

You glared at him.

“You could drop out,” you said. “That’d help loads.”

“Can’t,” he replied. “Who’d keep you in check then?”

You growled something unintelligible back at him, then spun on your heel, striding across the frost-covered grass. “I’m taking the long way to class.”

Yeonjun tipped his head to the clear sky, lips quirking as if your passive-aggression was nothing but entertainment for him. By the time he looked down, you were already vaulting over the stone steps to the quad, eager to put the lawn between you.

He followed after you at a leisurely pace because the pursuit, really, was half the fun.

“You’re right,” he called out. “Gorgeous day! M’taking the long way, too.”

You stopped so abruptly that he froze, too, surprised. Turning, you aimed your laptop sleeve at him like it might fire off bullets—although the fluffy black pom-pom on the zipper likely spoiled the threat.

“You are not,” you snapped. “Not giving anybody else the wrong impression.”

“Oh, right, right.” He nodded solemnly, clearly struggling to stifle his laughter. Your disgust was a magnificent performance, and he adored having front-row seats. “I’ve got a suggestion for you, though.”

You set off again with long, purposeful steps. “I bet you do.”

He jogged across the grass, boots thudding onto the pavement. You could feel his shadow stretching to catch yours.

“Make a cardboard sign,” he said. “Write ‘I hate Yeonjun’ in large, bold letters. Carry it everywhere just so no one else thinks we’re together.”

You lengthened your stride. “Brilliant. Maybe I’ll get a t-shirt, too.”

“Absolutely,” he agreed. “Bet you’d love to wear my name across your chest.”

You shot him a lethal look. He was nearly floating with exhilaration.

“A voodoo doll, I reckon,” you said. “Stick it full of pins until it keeps you up wondering what’s wrong with you.”

His laughter sliced through the icy air so unapologetically that you had to remind yourself that your stomach likely clenched because you’d swallowed your lunch too quickly, and not for any other reason.

“Could just admit you want to be on my mind when I’m trying to sleep,” he bit as you rounded the corner towards the Law building for Professor Lee’s seminar.

“Keep following me,” you replied, eyes fixed ahead, “and I’ll assume you’re obsessed with me.”

“M’hearing that it’s the other way around, love.”

“Get your hearing checked.”

Yeonjun proceeded to grin. “Bet you’re secretly flattered he thought we were a couple.”

A passing gust shoved a strand of your hair into your face, as if the wind, too, was surprised by his audacity.

“Flattered’s one word,” you said, brushing your hair away. “‘Appalled’ is another.”

“Please.” He scoffed, gravel crunching under his boots. “I’m a catch.”

“A Catch-22.”

“You wish you could have me.”

“And where would I bury the body?”

He suddenly stopped, and for a moment, it was just your steps echoing down the desolate quad. The biting wind had driven even the smokers indoors, and the two of you seemed to be the only people on campus.

Standing still, Yeonjun was thinking about last week – about the comfort you’d grown into, sitting next to him on your bed as the two of you worked on the presentation. He could still feel the comfort even through your grimaces.

When the wind carried his voice to you, it sounded sharper than before.

“You think you know me so well.” He caught up to you just as you turned around. “But if you really did—” he stopped right in front of you, gaze locked on yours, “—you’d be head over heels.”

Something dropped in your stomach, and the sensation seemed so misplaced that you blinked several times to restore the balance inside. You realised what he was doing: he knew you’d opened up to the idea that he was decent, after all, and now he wouldn’t let you take that back.

You scowled again. You’d rather drown in the lake where he was fishing for compliments than offer him any.

“Because I’m dead and buried?” you countered. “Can’t disagree.”

Yeonjun rolled his tongue over his teeth, then tilted his head at the sky as if appealing for patience. You almost smiled in spite of yourself, then caught your gaze sliding down the smooth line of his neck. Blinking sharply, you turned away.

“Hmm.” He looked back at you after a moment. “That your coping mechanism, then? Pretending one of us is dead?”

You raised your brows. “Coping for wh—oh, to resist your charm?”

“Yes,” he said, no hesitation whatsoever.

“Aw.” You offered him a face full of feigned pity—the sort of expression he knew you’d stolen from him. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re really not that charming.”

“I know I am.”

You wondered if he’d ever meet someone who would love him as much as he loved himself. Probably not; that was a task no human could manage.

“Right,” you said, shaking your head, almost wistfully. “Sure must be nice to live in a fantasy world.”

“It is, yeah,” he replied breezily. “Warm, sunny, everyone’s secretly in love with me. Oh—hang on, no. That’s just reality.”

You cleared your throat and gave a very pleasant click of your lips.

“Clearly not everyone,” you said, “if I’m still standing.”

His smile didn’t falter, but a deeper malice shaded his eyes. He ran his tongue over his lips, then nodded—as though accepting an offer from some entity on his left shoulder.

“Oh, yeah? Alright,” he said, voice light. “I bet you couldn’t date me for a month without falling in love.”

Your pulse leapt before you could stop it.

The entire suggestion was so profoundly idiotic that it took you a full minute to find your response.

“What,” you said first—not even a real question, just a stunned syllable. Then, “a month?”

That was likely the most ridiculous part – a month. You’d never caught feelings for anyone in thirty days, and Yeonjun couldn’t pull it off even in thirty years.

“You’re right,” he amended, chiding himself for his generosity. “Two weeks. Just until spring break.”

Your laughter rang off the brick walls around the quad, louder than you’d intended. His arrogance was truly his most reliable quality.

“I had a point,” you managed between dying chuckles, “when I said you haven’t got a brain, didn’t I?”

“Scared to be proven wrong?” he replied, seemingly unruffled—as though he placed outrageous bets every Tuesday after lunch.

“You’re actually serious?” you asked, bothered by his stoicism—it no longer seemed comical.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Why? You think you’d fall for me faster?”

You scoffed, but Professor Kang’s misguided “lovely couple” comment floated back to your mind with irritating clarity, tightening something in your chest.

You remembered the absurd moment in your flat last week, when Yeonjun told you to look at him when you felt anxious. You also remembered the high-fives and the subtle—but not entirely unpleasant—tension in the canteen.

Underneath the bickering, it had all felt gravely close to sincerity. Close to accepting each other’s presence.

“Are you in love with me?” you asked then, voice dry.

The wind answered first, rustling the branches overhead. Then a muscle finally twitched in Yeonjun’s cheek.

“Absolutely,” he deadpanned. “Devotedly so.”

You exhaled, your breath forming a cloud between you. “What’s wrong with you, then?”

“Nothing terminal.”

He still didn’t budge, and that unnerved you further.

Seemingly every time you started to believe that he might not be a robotic experiment in place of a human after all, he showed you that, no, never mind. He was nothing more than a mechanical failure.

Fall in love in two weeks—his code was clearly glitching.

“Wow.” You folded your arms, keeping your voice dull. “So you—you’re proposing a bet just to prove that I’m wrong about you? That you’re, actually, a ‘catch’? And everyone just drops on their knees for you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he echoed, grinning like a cat about to claw at your curtains. “You’ve been running your mouth for five years now. Time to see that your conclusions about me are just lazy and prejudiced. Always have been.”

You turned away as your heart turned treacherous and, outrageously, began to race again.

Strictly speaking, he wasn’t right. But he didn’t know about your first impression of him, or that it had lasted a mere half a minute—right until he’d opened his mouth.

“But my conclusions are what everyone thinks, apparently,” you said, counting the pebbles underneath your shoes. “You said so. And then you boasted about not fighting public opinion. Let them find out you don’t bite, and all. What happened to that?”

Flattered that you remembered his words almost verbatim—even if you attempted to weaponise them—he gave a shrug that was far more relaxed than he actually felt.

“Guess you’re special,” he said. Your pride perked up in a reflexive thrill, and you clenched your fists to stifle it. “Will be satisfying to have you admit you’ve been wrong about me all these years. I already know everyone else is.”

“Right,” you said. “Because everyone’s secretly in love with you.”

He grinned. “Right.”

“So you don’t simply want to prove that I’m wrong,” you replied, eyes shooting to his again. “You want to prove I’ll fall in love with you, too.”

“Yes,” he said, either unaware of his lunacy or fully at ease with it. “That’s, really, the biggest proof.”

“Not tolerance,” you reiterated. “Straight-up love.”

His smile was patient, as if you were the one being unreasonable here.

“Well, how would you measure tolerance?” he questioned. “You’re talking to me right now. I could easily claim you already tolerate me.”

The notion unsettled you, and he saw you scrunch your nose. “And how would you measure love?”

“Don’t need to,” he said. “S’obvious.”

You continued to stare at him, growing convinced that love, in his eyes, was nothing more than a humiliation ritual that he casually inflicted on others for his perverse enjoyment.

To be fair, that would explain his relentless flirting with anything and anyone. It would also explain—and you were surprised to find yourself fighting against the threatening disappointment—his softer edges around you these past few weeks.

Charm everyone to do his bidding, fatten up the kids before boiling them in soup – an old classic, really.

“If I were to agree,” you said, jaw tight, “this would blow up in your face spectacularly. You realise that, right?”

Yeonjun picked up on the edge in your voice and took it as partial consent for his challenge. The corners of his lips curled upwards.

“You could just admit I’m not nearly as bad as you need me to be,” he said. “I know you already think that. It’d save us some—”

 “I don’t already think that,” you cut in, “because you clearly are just as bad.”

“I’m a great boyfriend,” he replied, his confidence unwavering. You didn’t know what you were even arguing about with him—or why. “You should feel lucky I’m even offering this.”

Your scoff was a cold mist in the air.

“Do I get special violence privileges if I do this?” you asked. “Because I’m not sure we’ll make it to two weeks otherwise.”

He laughed—then suddenly swallowed it and coughed, turning his head at the sky again. He remembered, against his will, the warmth of your palm against his cheek last week at the workshop.

“You—you’ve clearly already got those privileges,” he said, bringing his hand over his nose and catching the edge of his band-aid. “You won’t need them when you’re with me, but sure. Anything you want.”

“Then I want this conversation to be over,” you said.

He returned his gaze to you and stepped closer, wearing a smile that carried a feigned shyness.

“Hmm.” He waited for you to meet his gaze to continue the charade. “To do what instead?”

Your gaze flickered, for just a second, to the faint bruises on his cheekbones.

You turned away. “Apply for a different major that you’re not in.”

The wind shoved at you both when he grinned. You felt his nearness more than you felt the chill in the air and clenched your teeth against it.

“Yeah?” he said. “M’sure you’d still find your way to me, love.”

You gripped your jacket tighter.

“In case it wasn’t clear,” you said, returning your gaze to him, “this is already not going well for you, and I haven’t even agreed to your bet.”

Even with the band-aid across his nose, Yeonjun was the definition of pride.

He thought this was going very well. You’d practically threatened him not to follow you earlier, and now you were still standing here, challenging him right back—telling him to keep following you for the next two weeks, and see what happened.

He couldn’t wait to see what happened.

“Then go out with me and prove me wrong,” he said. “What’ve you got to lose?”

“My will to live.”

He rolled his eyes, but even that seemed too theatrical to be genuine. “Enough with the dramatics.”

“What have you got to win, then?” you shot back. “Bragging rights? Want me to declare, loud and proud, that I’ve misjudged you? Show everyone that you’re so charming that even I am swooning for you?”

“Sure.”

You watched him for another moment. That hadn’t sounded like his full prize, but no matter how hard you searched, you couldn’t find hints of what else he’d gain from this.

Pursing your lips, you scanned the line of trees alongside the quad, missing the way Yeonjun flicked his gaze away. The branches swayed fervently in the wind—either encouraging, or warning, you couldn’t tell.

“What does that mean, then?” you asked at last. “Dating for two weeks.”

Relieved that you’d moved on to logistics now, Yeonjun turned back to you, rocking slightly on his heels. He already figured you’d need him to elaborate on the full methodology, and he already decided he wouldn’t. It was more fun not to give you control over anything.

“It means we go on dates,” he said. “For two weeks. And at the end, you’re dying to be mine—”

“Right, wise-ass,” you cut in dryly. “What qualifies as a date to you?”

He really liked the nickname. He also really liked not answering your questions.

“Agree and you’ll find out,” he said. “Don’t worry, though. Not dragging you into anything you don't want to do.”

“I don’t want to date you.”

“I’ll prove you do.”

You tightened your grip on your sleeves.

“The more you speak,” you said, “the harder it is to see how us spending more time together could ever work in your favour.”

His grin was venom. “Worked in the wardrobe.”

Poking your tongue into your cheek to suppress whatever violent reflex was just threatening to rise to the surface, you redirected your gaze to the cluster of sparrows in a nearby tree.

“God,” you muttered with a disbelieving sigh, “you’re actually fucking obsessed.”

Yeonjun laughed again, coat swinging as he slid his hands into his pockets. You would’ve assumed he’d feel just a tad self-conscious to be caught thinking about your seven minutes in his wardrobe so often—instead, he seemed to thrive on it.

“I’m just saying,” he lifted his chin, “if I did that in seven minutes, think about what I could do in two weeks.”

You made a sound between a scoff and a swallowed breath, bracing as another gust of wind needled your bare fingers. You tried to ignore the uncertainty crawling up your spine, figuring it could’ve just been shivers from the cold.

Yeonjun smirked at your silence. “Reminiscing?”

“No.” You dragged your gaze back to him. “Thinking about what I get out of this.”

“What do you mean?” He looked almost insulted. “You get me.”

“Right,” you said flatly. “Thinking about what of value I get out of this.”

His grin resurfaced—it was a hopeless affliction—and he gave a loose shrug, as though conceding.

“What else do you want?”

You weren’t sure what you wanted. You weren’t even sure what you were doing, really.

“Compensation,” you decided, “for putting up with your ass for two weeks.”

“Ah.” He shook his head mournfully. “Can’t find an earthly reward that could compensate for a loss that big.”

“Try.”

Chuckling, he leaned his head back—another query at the heavens—then lowered it to you again, eyes lighter. The divine intervention lasted for less than five seconds.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll leave the workshop.”

Your eyebrows shot up, more startled than surprised. You realised you’d still thought of his bet as banter, a noncommittal back-and-forth. Bluff, even—anything not to lose an argument to you.

But he really was serious.

“You wanted to host it alone, yeah?” Yeonjun continued. “So, there. You still want me dead in two weeks, then I’m out. Sounds good?”

It sounded very good. It also sounded like the Big Bad Wolf inviting you to ‘come closer, I can’t see you—swear I won’t do anything.’

“Hmm.”

“Yeah?” he prodded. “We doing this, or are you starting to realise you’ll lose? Too scared?”

You groaned. Accusing you of being scared—even if you really were—was his favourite taunt, and it irritated you to the depths of your soul every time.

You’d rather suffer for the entirety of those two weeks, you realised, and genuinely swallow glass during those dates with him, than ever exhibit the slightest flinch in his presence.

“You should be scared,” you shot back, the petulance of the argument sharpening your tone. “Your arrogance will be your downfall.”

The glint in his eyes only brightened. “Or maybe yours.”

“I’m trying to help you,” you warned, ignoring his smirk. “The odds are really not in your favour here.”

“Let me worry about that.”

Clicking your tongue, you let your gaze drift back toward the Law building on the far edge of the quad—just so you wouldn’t have to stare at the premature triumph on his face. He hadn’t even done anything yet, and already he looked like he’d won.

Two weeks, then. You could manage it, really. You’d survived him for five years now with very few incidents—the wardrobe was, of course, a lapse in judgment that did not count—so surely, you could survive fourteen more days. You’d be seeing him in the workshop and in class anyway—and then no more, once the allotted time was up...

God.

He was a snake.

You’d do it.

Not to prove him wrong, necessarily, but to ensure you were right. To inoculate yourself, in a way, with a two-week dose of controlled exposure until you were completely immune. And then let him choke on his ego. Let his golden composure fully crumble in your hands.

Worked in the wardrobe.

“Alright.” Your voice hardened. “Fuck it. Do your worst, then.”

Yeonjun lit up. “Knew you couldn’t resis—”

“But when you fail,” you added, louder, “you don’t just leave the workshop. You leave me alone, too. We never speak again.”

A flicker of something—hesitation or doubt; whichever it was, it pleased you greatly—flitted across his expression.

“When?” he repeated, clutching his chest in a dramatic display of pain. Despite the theatrics, his voice had lost a shade of confidence. “Not if? Ice cold.”

“Don’t need an if,” you retorted, striding back toward the building, the wind tugging at the hood of your jacket. “If you want to play, we’ll play at those stakes.”

Yeonjun let you gain a few paces, his own coat snapping in the wind. Then he sauntered after.

He did want to play—terribly.

“Alright,” he decided. “Guess that’s fair. We’ll never speak again if I fail. Unless you’re too in love with me to stay away.”

“You wish.”

“That obvious?”

You shot him a baffled glance over your shoulder. “What?”

“Nothing.” He breezed past you towards the door, grin still fixed to his lips. “Don’t be late for class. I’ll text you about our first date later.”

✦ • ──── FEBRUARY 25, 2025. 1 PM

The auditorium for Professor Lee’s Mediation and Conflict Resolution class was half-asleep in the afternoon sun.

Last week, you and Yeonjun had skipped it to prepare the presentation for your professors, and, interestingly, no one had noticed—because Beomgyu and Nara had, coincidentally, skipped, too. Separately, from what you’ve heard, but it was an interesting coincidence nonetheless.

You sat with Reina while you waited for the professor, with Soobin and Yeonjun chatting behind you. You ignored them both.

Beomgyu was perched on their desk, scrolling on Instagram and, occasionally, leaning over to show you and Reina something funny. When Nara dropped into the chair beside him a minute later, she flicked her hair straight into his shoulder—and he jolted like someone had plugged him into a faulty electrical socket.

Grinning, you turned to point them out to Reina, but found her slouching beside you, drumming curses in Morse code against her notebook. Professor Lee was late, and she just wanted to go home.

“What time are you leaving Friday night?” you ended up asking, hoping to distract her with happier thoughts.

She and Soobin hadn’t seen each other last weekend because Yeonjun had dragged him through a string of “urgent problems” that sounded suspiciously like quests he’d invented just to annoy you and Reina. And Soobin, despite already working double shifts that whole week, never said no to anyone. Now he’d promised to make it up to Reina with a weekend at her childhood lakehouse.

“Probably right after class,” she murmured, eyes a little brighter. “Haven’t decided yet. Might even be Saturday, actually. All I know is that I’ll drive, let him rest a bit. Been a long week for him.”

“Been long for you, too,” you teased gently. “Not easy, surviving two whole days without him.”

She shot you a warm glare. “I do feel like a military wife, actually.”

You snickered, but you knew she meant what she said. Reina loved Soobin so much that every evening without him seemed to remove a week off her lifespan.

The thought of loving anyone that intensely made you a little nauseous—like sitting in the backseat of a car taking corners too fast—but it thrilled you, too. You’ve always liked speed, carsickness aside.

“You’ll get to relax this weekend,” you said, rubbing her arm in comfort. “That’s good.”

“Yeah, it—” she broke off, distracted by something. You didn’t realise it was Yeonjun behind you, scraping his chair and leaning towards you, chin in hand, while Soobin redirected his attention over to the Reel on Beomgyu’s phone.

“Uh, will you be alright over the weekend?” Reina asked, ignoring what went on behind you. “Got plans?”

“Not really,” you said. “Thinking I’ll—”

“Um.” Yeonjun leaned in closer, cutting straight through your conversation. “So sorry to interrupt. But you have got plans this weekend. Remember?”

Reina’s brows arched as you whipped around.

Even before you said anything, Yeonjun was already grinning.

“What?” you asked slowly.

“Yes,” he replied with a wink.

Your pulse spiked violently.

You knew exactly what he meant, but Reina did not. He knew she did not—that was why he was doing this.

Reina leaned back in her chair. “What’s—”

“I, uh—I told him,” you blurted hurriedly, because Yeonjun was already opening his mouth to tell her about the bet he had going with you. “Yeah. My grandad—he called during the workshop today. Completely slipped my mind to tell you. I’ll have to go home for a bit over the weekend. He needs my help with, uh, something. Hasn’t really said what. You know how he is.”

Reina did know—that was why this seemed like the safest explanation. Her gaze softened right away, and that hurt more than any accusation she could’ve thrown at you.

“Oh,” she said gently. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied a little too lightly. “Probably just the usual chores on the farm. I don’t mind anyway, you know?”

“Yeah, of course.” Her words came excruciatingly slowly compared to your stream of thoughts. You felt your pulse pound against your wrists as you gripped the back of your chair. “Do you need to borrow the car?”

She was talking about the battered Honda that she’d stolen from her parents when she’d finished school, and which she now lent you whenever you needed it.

Guilt tightened your throat.

“No, no,” you said, swallowing hard. “I’ll take the train.”

In your peripheral vision, you saw Yeonjun raise his hand towards you, armed with another interruption.

Jumping in your seat, you slammed his wrist onto the table before he said anything. He hissed; you pressed down harder—then caught Reina’s raised eyebrows.

“H-had enough of him,” you explained, releasing his hand with a snarl, which only made his eyes glisten. “Anyway. I’m fine, really. Thank you, though.”

Reina’s pause stretched a second too long, casting clear doubt over your words. Your ears felt uncomfortably hot.

“Okay,” she finally said. “Call me if you need anything?”

“Yeah, of cou—”

“She won’t,” Yeonjun cut in anyway, smug.

You were absolutely going to bury him at the end of the class.

Reina turned to him again, and you held your breath. Now he’d surely done it. You might as well dig yourself a grave, too.

She gave him a sharp, assessing look. Only when Soobin perked up, realising he might’ve missed something that would need his intervention, did she soften slightly before returning to you.

“Has he gone insane, then?” she whispered, leaning her shoulder against yours. “Or have I? Because—”

“No, it’s him,” you replied before she could finish her thought, relieved not to be lying. “He’s been talking shit all day. Really tired of it.”

She pondered that for a beat, pulling back to examine you with the same scrutiny.

You did look tired. And Yeonjun was notorious for talking shit.

And still, she sensed something—not for the first time.

“Not judging,” she said, leaning back in, “but if I’d have known you were willing to make this physical, I wouldn’t have stood by and just watched you argue with him all this time.”

A small smile crept onto your lips.

“No,” you said, “you would’ve handed me boxing gloves.”

“Damn straight.”

You snickered, and it finally prompted her to smile, too.

“Hope that offer still stands,” you said, ignoring Yeonjun when he flicked your hair in petty retaliation before leaning back in his seat again.

Reina’s lips twitched against her will.

“Always,” she said. “But are you sure you need it?”

Your heart stopped for a fraction of a second. “Why—why wouldn’t I?”

She shrugged easily enough. “You tell me.”

You cleared your throat. But before you could lasso any one of your wild thoughts to tell her anything, the door swung open at the front of the class.

It was providence, you figured, for people to constantly enter rooms at the absolute peak of your discomfort.

This time, it was Professor Lee bursting in fifteen minutes late—true to form—windblown and faintly dishevelled as though he’d had a scrap with the wind outside.

“Apologies,” he announced. “Business mediation today!”

And business mediation it was.

Your classmates shifted around the auditorium, sorting themselves into their assigned teams. You remained seated and dramatically turned away to ignore Yeonjun’s wave as he joined the opposing team.

Professor Lee, using his infinite wisdom, made Reina the mediator of the day – a decision that, aside from being ironic, also never helped the seminar end on time, because she mediated between you and Yeonjun.

By the time you were dismissed—twenty minutes later than scheduled—Reina was awarded the extra point purely for not throttling either one of you.

You could hardly argue with the decision. More so, because you were going to throttle Yeonjun yourself.

✦ • ──── FEBRUARY 25, 2025. 3 PM

The auditorium emptied in a hurried shuffle of shoes and tired voices. Even the fluorescent lights hummed louder, as if annoyed about the overtime.

You lingered in the corridor by the door, scrolling on your phone. You were alone, because Reina had dashed off to meet her thesis supervisor—mercifully, without asking you any other questions.

You had something very important to do before you met up with her again.

Two minutes later, Yeonjun walked out of the room, sporting a smug look on his face, as though still amused by some joke he’d made. Before he even properly registered your presence, you seized his wrist and hauled him down the corridor, his boots scraping across the floor in surprise.

“Whoa, okay, what is—” He stumbled into a trot. “Not to complain or anything, but, uh—if you’re this eager to get me alone after one class, maybe two weeks is a bit long.”

It was a miracle, truly, that your eyes remained in their sockets, given how hard you rolled them.

“Be quiet,” you snapped, shoving him into the men’s room – it was the closest restroom to the auditorium.

The door thunked shut behind you, echoing off the yellowing tiles inside. The room reeked of a chemical lemon scent, but it had a lock on the door, and that was where you stopped once you entered.

Yeonjun, in the meantime, glanced around warily like he’d never seen a public restroom in real life before.

“So, uh,” he watched you test the lock until it clicked into place, “is this how you want to confess your feelings? Because—and no offence, of course—but dragging me to the toilets isn’t quite as romantic as you might—”

You crossed the room in one quick step, grabbed him by the front of his grey shirt—right on the sparkling detailing around his chest—and slammed him against the porcelain sink, urgency and frustration tangled in your eyes.

Yeonjun felt the sharpness of the sink bite into his hip, but you were close enough for him to feel the dangerous exhale between your teeth—and, oh. Curiously, he couldn’t feel his brain anymore.

“Don’t want to hear another fucking word,” you hissed, ignoring the thundering in his chest underneath your wrists, “especially not in front of Reina.”

He thought that was an excellent request, considering he’d forgotten how words worked entirely. Slowly, he managed a nod.

You released him, stepping back and finally untangling your thoughts into something that allowed you to breathe easier. The blatant invitation in his gaze was not a much better alternative to his persistent comments—and now the glitter from his shirt clung to your palms, too.

A moment later, Yeonjun regained his composure and leaned more comfortably against the sink. You’d asked him for violence privileges earlier—he realised he wasn’t above begging for you to take them if you hadn’t.

“Alright,” he said, still a little winded. “What’d I do that’s so terrible, then, love?”

“Tried to pull a fucking circus in class,” you replied. “Made it everyone’s business.”

“Oh.” His mock sympathy forced you to clench your glittering fists and count to ten. “And you wanted this to stay between us. Our little secret. My bad—”

“We’re not doing this shit,” you cut him off, “if you’re shouting it from the rooftops.”

He exhaled as though to capitulate, but his eyes suggested he was still measuring the acoustics of the nearest rooftop.

“How d’you want to do it, then?” he asked, absentmindedly running his fingers over the edge of his band-aid. “Ground rules? Vow of silence?”

You didn’t want to do this at all, ideally. But the thought of him taunting you about backing down was far more dreadful than his two weeks of torment. And worse—if you backed down, you might find yourself wondering if he could’ve been right and if you’d really misjudged him.

This bet was supposed to be proof that you hadn’t. No normal person would offer something so ridiculous.

So, ground rules it would have to be.

“Alright,” you said, eyes drifting over the frost-covered windows above the mirror. “Rules might work.”

Yeonjun nodded, pleased with the temporary ceasefire. “So what—”

“Wait.” You yanked your phone from your pocket. “I’m writing this down so there’s proof.”

He raised a brow. “Trust me that little?”

“Don’t trust you at all, actually.” Your thumbs flew across the screen as you opened the Notes app. “Rule one: no telling anyone about your stupid experiment.”

He smiled wider.

“Technically,” he said, “it’s our stupid experiment.”

You bit back your retort. Bigger battles to win, bigger battles to win, bigger battles to win.

Two more weeks, and you would never be at the receiving end of his arrogant grin again.

“And wouldn’t it be easier to just own up to it anyway?” Yeonjun pressed. “You know how the rumours spread.”

“Own up to your two weeks?” you clarified. He nodded. “Fuck no.”

Yeonjun made an effort to pout, disappointed not to be at the heart of a scandal with you. “Why not?”

Knowing the tendency of your cohort to build conspiracy theories from minimal data, a whirlwind of gossip was very likely—and still, you’d rather risk it than surrender and tell everyone what you’d be doing outright.

“I come off as unhinged here,” you said flatly. His grin deepened at your reasoning, which, clearly, still did not deter you from going along with this. “If Reina finds out, she’ll slit your throat in your sleep and then book me for a lobotomy.”

He snorted.

Considering that Reina was roughly five apples tall, Yeonjun found her about as intimidating as the small ladybug that lived in the plants in Soobin’s bedroom.

But fair enough, he thought. He didn’t think you were particularly intimidating either, and still, he couldn’t breathe at some of your threats.

“Two peas in a pod, you and her,” he mused. “How lovely.”

“I know,” you said. “Clearly, you’ve got every reason to keep your mouth shut. Wouldn’t want other people realising you’re not as irresistible as you think when this is all over, yeah? Would be a proper blow to your pride, I imagine.”

He paused, realising that he hadn’t truly considered losing—the possibility had flickered in his mind after you’d raised the stakes, but he’d been too excited to really ponder it. Now his eyes drifted to the hand dryer by the door, evaluating just how bruised his ego would be if he failed.

Then his gaze slid back to the perfect defiance on your lips, and he decided the risk was worth it.

“Good point,” he said. “And very kind of you to worry about my pride, love. But, uh, what if someone finds out what we’re doing by accident?”

You tightened your grip on your phone, visibly calculating your odds.

You figured you might’ve already had the necessary protective measures in place – yes, you might be seen together, but surely, your relentless scowls and shudders in his presence would protect you from any unwarranted rumours gaining traction.

Comments may come—they already had, although you tried not to think about Professor Kang’s assumption—but they’d be fleeting and wouldn’t do any long-term damage.

“That’s… fine,” you said carefully. “Okay if it’s an accident. I’ll think of something, then. But no deliberate attempts to make anyone find out.”

Yeonjun observed the way you gradually began to turn this into your own game: establishing your own rules and boundaries, taking control of the narrative, making him feel like he was the one being tested.

He was starting to suspect that you hadn’t agreed to try this with him just to prove him wrong. You’d also agreed to prove to yourself that you were right.

Oh, this was going to be the best two weeks of his life.

“Alright, then,” he said cheerfully. “I’ve got a rule, too.”

Your shoulders stiffened. “What?”

“You’ve got to commit.”

“Define ‘commit.’”

He tapped the rim of the sink behind him, then reconsidered. Despite the faint smell of bleach, he wasn’t too confident about the cleanliness of this place.

“You’ve got to actually go on dates with me,” he said, wiping his hands on his jeans. “No fake coughing, no pretending you’re dead. Matter of fact, put No Sabotage as a rule, too. No staging break-ups or fake fights, or any of that shit.”

You considered it for a moment, then typed it in, sullen. “How would you even know if I was faking a fight?”

“I provoke you every day,” he replied, proud. “I’ll know when it’s real.”

You clicked your lips to stop yourself from debating the validity of his claim, and bolded all the rules in the list.

“Sure sounds like you’re starting to realise you’re going to lose,” you mumbled, “but alright. Added both.”

“Alright, love—this tone,” he gestured at you lazily, “doesn’t sound like commitment. You’ve got to put your heart in it, or—”

“I do not,” you retorted, looking up. “All I’ve got to do is show up. That’s how you defined committing.”

His eyes lingered on your stubborn jaw and the blazing fire in your eyes.

He thought he could’ve even given up racing for this; he’d hardly felt this entertained in his life.

“It’s going to clash with your first rule, by the way,” he said with a good-natured smile. “The dates I’ve got planned won’t always be private.”

A look of bemused alarm flickered on your face: partially at the belated realisation that ‘dating’ him would really be your life for the next two weeks, and partially at the fact that he had, apparently, already put some thought into it.

“You… you’ve already got dates planned?” you asked. “It’s been two hours.”

His smile spread. “Told you I’m a great boyfrie—”

“Aside from singing you praises all night, then,” you cut in, recovering, “what’ve you got planned?”

He had precisely zero intentions to reveal any details and looked like he carried a pot of gold in his back pocket.

“You’ll see,” he promised. “Might want to practise your excuses, though. In case we do bump into someone we know.”

You locked your phone and stared at the grimy tiles for a moment.

You thought you had your precautions, and your pride was certainly urging you forward, too. But the brief whispers of common sense still suggested that, perhaps, it would’ve been best to walk away now.

And admit you were scared.

And let him gloat until graduation.

“Fine,” you said crisply, doubling down on your determination. “I’ll handle it.”

Yeonjun felt a pleasant heat inside, seeing how utterly devoted you were to making him eat his words.

A compliment was already on the tip of his tongue, but he had a strong suspicion that “good girl” would result directly in his head being smashed against the mirror behind him. He debated, for a moment, if the shards of glass wouldn’t be worth it, after all.

“Make it convincing,” he decided to poke more. “Can’t have people thinking you’re willingly spending time with me, right? What if they suspect you’ve secretly liked me all along?”

“This is hardly willing,” you replied, lighter than he would’ve enjoyed. “And I’ve never liked you.”

“Right, of course,” he said. “Because dragging people into empty restrooms in broad daylight is just normal behaviour when you don’t like someone.”

He caught your gaze flickering to the sink—measuring how to wrench it out and smash it over his head, no doubt—and he found himself grinning again.

“This was your idea,” you reminded him. “Might look like you’re the one who likes me, if you’re not careful.”

He puffed out his cheeks and shrugged. He’d already considered all the repercussions on his ego.

“Unlike you, love,” he said, “I don’t get embarrassed over trivial shit.”

You frowned.

There had to be something else here, you thought. Trivial or not, he was speaking about this bet with an ease that was too superficial even for him.

“Can I go now, then?” he asked before you could argue. “Or is there something else you want to do with me in this charming little restroom?”

He noticed your muscles tense and braced for impact, still feeling the way your hands had gripped his shirt when you pushed him into the sink earlier. His stomach was very warm.

“You say something else,” you warned, nodding toward the stalls, “and your head’s going down that toilet.”

He thought it was extremely attractive, the way your threats carried so much sincerity.

Puckering his lips for a noisy kissing sound, he pushed off the sink. “I’ll text you later. M’thinking we start tomorrow.”

“We—what?” You blinked, flashing back to his thoughtless—brainless, too—comments in class. “I thought we were starting on the weekend.”

“Oh, we’ll go out on the weekend, too, don’t worry,” he said brightly. “But we’ll start tomorrow. Maybe. I’ll let you know.”

That was brilliant, of course. The earlier you started, the sooner you’d begin suffering.

“Perfect,” you said. “I will not look forward to it.”

He flashed one last grin over his shoulder, then unlocked the door and strolled out.

You waited a few minutes before leaving, gazing dejectedly at your reflection in the cracked mirror.

It’d be fine—it was just two weeks anyway.

And if you controlled the experiment, you controlled the outcome.

prev ○ next (coming soon)

[enhastolemyheart]

Finally a response for when people harass fanfic writers and repeatedly ask how we would feel if idols read these stories.

[enhastolemyheart]

I CANNOT WITH THIS FACE CARD IM DYING I NEED HIM

[enhastolemyheart]

BEACH BEACH BEACH BEACH BEACH

[enhastolemyheart]

. . . e q u i l i b r i u m | 2

i know you too well, but i’m under your spell /// the struts, pretty vicious

pairing: yeonjun x fem!reader

summary: it takes a long time to fully explore the thin line between love and hate. but seven minutes is a good start.

genre: academic rival!yeonjun / college au / enemies to lovers au

warnings: slow burn, mutual pining, yeonjun winning 1st place at the little shit competition, reader having a Crisis, strong language, suggestive themes

words: 9.4k

masterlist / read from the beginning

✦ • ──── FEBRUARY 7, 2025. 7 AM

The last thing you remembered from last night was struggling to fall asleep. You’d lain in bed, heart still racing as if it were trying to run away from something, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

And then, all of a sudden, you were back in that wardrobe room with Yeonjun.

At first, the air felt too thin to breathe, your thoughts scrambling for an escape, your body too aware of his. And then you couldn’t inhale at all. The space inside the wardrobe expanded and collapsed around your mouths.

You could still taste the gin on his tongue—sharp and warm—and you weren’t sure if you were really dreaming or just replaying the memory again. You felt the softness of his skin against yours, his hair between your fingers, the weight of his breath, the urgency when he kissed you back—

And then you jolted awake, eyes wide, alone in your room on an early Friday morning.

It took you another moment to remember how to breathe.

You reached for your phone on your bedside table; your alarm was set to go off in twenty minutes. You barely got any sleep after getting home from the party, but you didn’t feel tired in the least, heart still busy pumping leftover adrenaline.

Reina was still asleep—thankfully—which gave you at least an hour to get your head on straight and shove last night into a dusty corner of your mind that you’d never revisit while fully conscious.

There were plenty of reasonable things for you to focus on today, on top of classes and work. Last year, the professors had asked you to host a weekly seminar for undergrads—help them with their theses, offer mentorship, carry on the tradition of grad students before you. You were supposed to start it next week, and you were as excited for it as you were nervous.

Still, your shower ran longer than it needed to, and the steam fogged up the mirror just enough to erase what you’d seen in your sleep. You were relieved you didn’t have any lectures with Yeonjun on Fridays. And the weekend loomed ahead, too, like a forty-eight-hour holiday from pretending that you had yourself under control.

You wrapped your hair into a towel and wandered to the kitchen, sliding two slices of bread into the toaster. The flat was quiet, except for the persistent hum of the fridge.

Then you heard a loud crash.

You jumped back from the table, heart lurching in your chest.

“God!” Reina groaned from her room.

Her door swung open a second later. She stepped into the corridor, bundled in the plush robe she’d stolen from Soobin, tugging it tighter around herself. Her electric heater lay on the floor behind her.

“S’always freezing here,” she muttered, trudging past you into the kitchen. You felt some of her goosebumps transfer to your own skin as you tried to calm your heart. “I don’t understand. And we pay so much for heating.”

“You scared the crap out of me,” you said, hand still pressed to your chest. “Everything alright?”

“The heater fell,” she said with a groan. “Had it on my chair. Nudged the cable when I was getting up from bed. Sorry about that.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” Tentatively, you leaned back against the table. “Thought you fell out of bed again.”

A small smile twitched on her lips. Reina had tumbled out of bed just a few weeks ago—and it hadn’t occurred to her to scream or anything. She just thudded to the floor like a heavy, discarded blanket, and stayed there until you came to check, armed with a tightly rolled yoga mat for a weapon (just in case). It was still one of the funniest things that had happened in this flat.

“No, not this time,” she said, filling the kettle at the sink. “Bin’s text woke me up, actually. He’s got a double shift today.”

You understood her mood better now and gave her a sympathetic smile. “Won’t see him tonight?”

“No.” She set the kettle down with another sigh and turned to look at you. Then squinted. “Sleep well?”

Your eyebrows lifted. “Hm?”

“You look a bit out of it,” she explained, waving her hand vaguely. “Nightmares?”

The question took you by surprise, even though it really shouldn’t have. Reina noticed everything. And she was probably the only person in the world who really wanted to know when she asked how you were doing.

“Uh, no. It wasn’t—not exactly a nightmare,” you said, gaze drifting to the cupboards above the sink. “I, uh, actually dreamt about Yeonjun, if you can believe it.”

Her expression twisted.

“Jesus,” she said, recoiling with a melodramatic shudder. “Babe, I’m so sorry. That’s worse than a nightmare.”

“Yeah.” You glanced down at the floor. One of the tiles was cracked, and you scraped at it with your slipper. “It was.”

It hadn’t felt like a nightmare, but now you thought Reina had a point.

It was worse. Because nightmares dissipated into a cold sweat and a tremor in your chest. But this lingered—in the phantom pressure of his hands on your back, and the gentle touch of his lips against yours. It lingered in the guilt of having abandoned your pride and principles, and succumbing to some sort of instinct.

Because instinct was all it was, really. The proximity, the warmth, the quiet, his relentless fucking cologne. There was nothing more to it.

Reina flicked the kettle on.

“Had to be that wardrobe,” she hypothesised—accurately, like always—while she searched for mugs in the cupboard. “What did you do in there, anyway?”

Well, then.

Clearly, if you didn’t want to lie, you shouldn’t have brought the dream up.

The toast popped behind you—sharp as a gunshot—and you winced at the sound. Your hands moved automatically, reaching for the plate on the table.

For a moment, you tried to picture telling her the truth—“we argued a bit, then kissed a few times, I think I might’ve passed out in there”—but the words withered before you could open your mouth.

It sounded reckless, thoughtless, and entirely uncharacteristic of you. You could hardly speak about it this early in the morning, when you still hadn’t found any proper explanations for yourself.

“Didn’t do anything,” you said. “Just, you know… waited for the time to pass. Kept on arguing. The usual.”

Reina hummed but did not speak for a moment. You worried about her x-ray vision and the memories you were still fighting in your head.

“You could’ve used that time to knock some sense into him,” she finally said.

Ironic laughter rang in your head. If anything, all sense had been knocked out of you during those seven minutes.

You forced a chuckle, but it caught on something in your throat and splintered into an awkward cough. Reina raised a concerned eyebrow.

“Sorry,” you said. “Dry throat. Coffee?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it,” she said, placing the mugs down gently.

You brushed the toast crumbs from your hands with a newfound frustration and swallowed everything inside you, letting it burn all the way down your throat.

Then, you opened the fridge to get the butter and strawberry jam.

“Anyway,” Reina went on, spooning coffee granules into the mugs, “sorry about that whole thing. I told Nara she was being cruel, but she insisted she was doing you a favour.”

“Oh, yeah. Big favour.”

She nodded empathetically.

“If it makes you feel better,” she said, “Beomgyu volunteered to go there with Nara next.”

You couldn’t help the smile that broke out on your face. “Really? Well. I sort of saw it coming.”

“Me, too!” Reina giggled, pouring the hot water. “He’d always had googly eyes for her. Unfortunately for him, she passed out right after agreeing to go into the wardrobe.”

Laughing, the two of you settled at the table. You slid another pair of slices of bread into the toaster, then grabbed the knife to spread the jam on the toast for her. The coffee steamed between you.

Reina took a reckless sip and hissed as she swallowed the hot liquid.

“Shit,” she mumbled, dabbing her lower lip with her finger. “But, uh—listen. I hope that last night doesn’t put you off from coming out with us again. Bin and I need you. We’re a team.”

Her words landed with more weight than you’d expected.

Biting your lip, you considered, once more, whether to tell her about the wardrobe. And once more, you found yourself pulling back.

“I’m fine, really,” you said, sliding her plate over instead of meeting her eyes. “The night wasn’t that bad. Got to watch you leave half the room speechless in that dress.”

Reina beamed. Last night, after the Uber dropped you both off, she’d rung Soobin to tell him she was home safe. He, in turn, told her she’d looked beautiful that night, and he’d never seen her more glowing—but he was absolutely at his wits’ end over your classmates ogling her all night.

“Good,” she said, taking a bite of the toast. “Not about the dress—although that’s good, too. But also good that you’re alright. And I promise that’s the last time shit like that happens. I’ll fight Nara if I need to.”

You made a faint noise of gratitude and agreement.

You might’ve fought Nara yourself, just to escape the memories of last night. Lying about it to Reina felt like trying to scratch an itch somewhere deep inside your skin. You didn’t want to do it again.

✦ • ──── FEBRUARY 10, 2025. 1 PM

You spent most of the weekend revising for lectures and refining the study plan for your workshop. This had become routine for you since the start of the year, broken only to catch up on the Marlon Brando films you and Reina were watching (Sunday night was The Wild One, the biker gang flick, featuring Brando’s iconic lopsided hat).

And then, on Monday, Yeonjun had blissfully failed to show up in class. Not even Soobin mentioned him throughout the day.

It was possibly the longest stretch you’d gone without seeing him—nearly four full days now, not that you were counting—and you loathed the thought of breaking the streak.

After your only lecture that day came to an end, the professor called you over for a quick chat. You’d expected as much, with the workshop starting tomorrow, and told Soobin and Reina to go on ahead without you.

“How are you feeling about tomorrow?” Professor Myers asked as the auditorium emptied behind you. “Excited? Nervous?”

She was one of your favourite professors—and had supervised your undergrad thesis, bless her—and you felt yourself relax.

“Bit of both,” you admitted. “Did you find an empty room for me?”

“I did, yes.” She opened her notebook, quickly flicking through the pages. “I know it’s on the third flo—ah, there. Room 306. I’ll email you. And you’ve already got your staff badge, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” you said. It was at the bottom of your bag. “Last week.”

“Brilliant.” She closed the notebook, but noticeably avoided meeting your gaze. “Now, there’s just one more thing I need to mention. We’re—my colleagues and I, er… we weren’t entirely sure how well those twenty-year-olds would respond to someone not that much older than them.”

You were confused where this was going, but nodded anyway.

Graduate students had been running these workshops for as long as you’d been in university. The twenty-year-olds, just like their older counterparts, usually responded to each other just fine.

“Please don’t get me wrong,” the professor added quickly, “we have complete faith in you.”

She smiled, pausing to give you a cue to smile back. You did, feeling robotic. You sensed there was a ‘but’ on the way.

There was.

“However,” she continued, “at our faculty meeting last week, we agreed it might be best to give you some support. A co-host, if you will.”

Your heart sank deeper into your chest.

The faculty had complete faith in you, she was saying, except when it came to you doing this alone.

“Okay…” you said slowly, waiting for an explanation. Preparing for the workshop had been your responsibility since last term. You couldn’t understand the sudden need for a co-host now, literally one day before D-Day.

Professor Myers clicked her pen several times and said nothing.

“Um,” you ventured, “and h-have you found someone to co-host with me?”

“Yes,” she said at last, motioning at the now-empty auditorium behind you. “I was hoping to speak with you both after class, but I didn’t see him today.”

Blood seemed to freeze in your veins.

Only one person hadn’t been in attendance today.

“He—oh. You—y-you asked Yeonjun?” you stammered, too stunned to feign indifference.

Your reaction was so out of character that Professor Myers did a double take, glancing down at her notebook again. Suddenly, she seemed compelled to assure you that this wasn’t her idea.

“We—well, I suppose we did,” she said. You couldn’t feel your tongue and couldn’t ask what she meant by that. “Have to say, it wasn’t entirely my decision. But it might be good, I think. Mr. Choi agreed to it earlier last week.”

Oh, great news all around.

Yeonjun had to have known on Thursday night, then, in the wardrobe, and even before, when he’d accused you of having no life, and then declared that he, personally, had better plans than attending classes. Really, he’d been playing chess all along.

“Right,” you said, not noticing that your hand was now tapping erratically against the professor’s mahogany desk. “So, how is this going to work, then?”

“Well, it’s quite last minute—”

“It is, yes,” you cut in reflexively. Then tried to recover: “Well, quite.”

“—but I’m sure you’ll sort it out,” she finished, continually surprised by the look on your face. She tried to ignore it to spare you both the embarrassment. “Think of him as your assistant tomorrow, alright? Show him the ropes and everything. You’ve had more time to prepare, after all. He’s just there to lend you more authority.”

Your thoughts wandered as you tried to picture the seminar title on the university timetable: CHOI YEONJUN, Thesis Workshop. And beneath it, in smaller, illegible letters – your name, too.

“I understand,” you said, still not understanding. “Just, uh… surprised I wouldn’t have enough authority on my own.”

Blatant discomfort flickered across the professor’s face.

For a moment, you sensed that she wasn’t telling you everything about this sudden change. And you thought about Yeonjun’s parents right away. Thought about how easily his last name could twist the professor’s arms when yours never could.

It wouldn’t have been particularly challenging to get Yeonjun assigned to your workshop.

“This is, for the most part, just a precaution,” the professor said, rising. She had an apologetic smile on her face, but appeared ready to walk you out of the room and bring an end to this extremely uncomfortable conversation. “Will you manage to work together? I understand you’ve grown quite close over the years.”

Close was certainly one word for it, you supposed, but did not argue.

Professor Myers was looking at you like she needed you to agree, needed you to guarantee that you weren’t upset, and that this workshop wouldn’t be a disaster.

So you did.

“Yes,” you said. There was no universe in which you’d relinquish this opportunity just because the faculty decided it’d be ‘best’ to pair you with Yeonjun. “We, uh—we did our undergraduate together. I-I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Splendid,” the professor said, her relief obvious. “Oh! And one more thing. The staff badge.”

She returned to her desk and rifled through a drawer before pulling out a plastic card.

“Would you mind passing this on to Yeonjun?” she asked.

Yeonjun, now. No longer Mr. Choi.

You paused, tamping down the ironic smile that was creeping onto your lips.

“Sure,” you said, because that was what the professor expected. You accepted the badge with a professional—or something close to it—smile. “No problem.”

✦ • ──── FEBRUARY 10, 2025. 4 PM

When you arrived for your shift at the library, Yeonjun’s badge still in your bag, you seriously considered not giving it to him at all. He wouldn’t be able to enter the auditorium without it—unless you let him in—and you thought that was quite fair. If he wanted to come into the room when he pleased, he should’ve shown up to Professor Myers’ classes and picked up the badge himself.

This was hardly petty, considering he didn’t bother to reach out to you himself, and hadn’t brought up the workshop last Thursday, either. Not to mention, he didn’t seem to be on campus, and you certainly weren’t close enough to go looking. Perhaps he could really fend for himself tomorrow.

But then—after a long, disappointed exhale—you decided you weren’t childish enough for this. Or irresponsible enough. Ignoring your professor’s instructions would gnaw at you until graduation.

After hours of enduring a low-grade dread while you worked, you finally searched up Yeonjun’s account on Instagram, snapped a picture of the staff badge, and sent it.

YOU [7:26 PM]  i was told to give this to you

You set your phone down and stood from your desk. Your shift was coming to an end, and you figured you might look up the books you planned to recommend tomorrow at the workshop.

You were halfway through pulling your laptop from its sleeve when Yeonjun replied.

YEONJUN [7:28 PM] perfect you know where i live

You frowned.

He may have had the grades, but he had clearly left his common sense in the womb if he expected you to actually come to his house for something as trivial as this.

YOU [7:29 PM] and you know where we have class

You barely managed to open your laptop when his response came:

YEONJUN [7:29 PM] class is over

Ignoring him for a moment, you opened the spreadsheet with the books on your laptop, then logged into the library database on your desk computer.

You weren’t eager to pick your phone back up, because this was new. You and Yeonjun had called each other names at parties, whispered insults in corridors, and even interrupted presentations with your bickering. But you’d never argued over text before.

Somehow, it felt infinitely more dangerous.

YOU [7:30 PM] i’m nice enough to stay on campus

It took Yeonjun longer to reply this time. You were already standing at the bookshelves, hunting down the books from your list, when your phone buzzed again.

YEONJUN [7:34 PM] but not nice enough to come for a visit? i have drinks ;)

Your eyebrows twitched, partially at his audacity, and partially at the unexpected scorching heat at the back of your neck. You inhaled sharply and composed yourself.

YOU [7:35 PM] no

One book into your list, he texted back:

YEONJUN [7:37 PM] fine where are you?

Happy to finally be getting somewhere, you texted back simply:

YOU [7:38 PM] library

YEONJUN [7:38 PM] of course i'll drive over, come out

Clicking your tongue, you straightened from the lower shelf and glanced out of the window. It was already dark outside—February was terribly stingy with daylight—and you were on the third floor of a centuries-old library with a broken lift. Not to mention, you had too many personal belongings here and not enough security cameras to leave them unattended.

You had no intentions to come out until you finished your shift and got ready to go home.

YOU [7:40 PM] i’m working just come inside when you get here

You already knew what his response would be before he sent it.

YEONJUN [7:40 PM] no

You hovered your fingers over the keyboard, tempted to send him off with an F and a U. But in an effort to maintain a thin veneer of professionalism for tomorrow, you shook your head to yourself.

YOU [7:41 PM] it will take one second

Your phone vibrated again when you returned to your desk, letting you know that Yeonjun was, in fact, a four-year-old.

YEONJUN [7:42 PM] idc

With a tired grunt, you sank into your chair.

This was hardly new, to be fair. He never met you halfway. He preferred to watch you rise up for a fight.

And you rose to it, always.

YOU [7:42 PM] keep annoying me and i’ll conveniently lose the badge somewhere

YEONJUN [7:43 PM] then we can search for it together :)

Drawing a deep breath, you turned to the shelves nearest to your desk—Philosophy, author names starting with F. There had been an English-Italian dictionary left on the bottom shelf when you arrived; you’d had to cart it upstairs to the Languages section.

Now, you pictured flipping through it for all the words that described Yeonjun: arduo, difficile, faticoso, scabroso.

Arduous. Difficult. Tiring. Problematic.

YOU [7:44 PM] just come inside for literally one second

He stopped texting for a while after that, allowing you to find and grab five different books from your list, plus two more that you hadn’t previously considered.

By that point, you were honestly hoping Yeonjun would comply—not for you, of course, but for the workshop.

No such luck.

YEONJUN [7:51 PM] i’m outside, come out

You audibly groaned this time. Of course, he’d come, but force you to go out and meet him when it would’ve been much easier for him to just pop inside. All for the satisfaction of inconveniencing you.

Out of sheer spite, you slowed down. Your colleague had just brought up a cart of returns, and you decided you had enough time to shelve them. It might mean staying longer, but you weren’t in a hurry anymore.

YOU [7:53 PM] i’ll be off in 15 you can wait if you don’t want to come in

You knew you’d annoyed him because the bubbles indicating he was typing popped up and disappeared several times before he finally replied.

YEONJUN [7:55 PM] your shift’s almost over, what’s the difference if you leave early for “literally one second”

YOU [7:56 PM] i know you’re unfamiliar with the concept but i am WORKING

YEONJUN [7:56 PM] i’m not coming inside

You smiled to yourself.

YOU [7:57 PM] then wait :)

Unfortunately, your satisfaction lasted all of three seconds.

YEONJUN [7:57 PM] i will don’t think i won’t text you the entire time

You had a nagging suspicion he would do exactly that, and found yourself itching to block his account.

Instead, you texted back:

YOU [7:58 PM] muting the chat, do what you want

His messages flooded in—intentionally separated into short bits of one sentence—while you were in the middle of silencing his notifications.

YEONJUN [7:58 PM] oh???? gonna shout your name under the library windows until you come outside which ones are yours oh 3rd floor yeah? clearing my throat rn

You stared at your screen and wondered, against your will, what the fuck was wrong with him.

Then you shut your eyes and decided not to question it. You didn’t want another haiku about his dedication to pissing you off.

YOU [7:59 PM] i hate you

Your phone vibrated again just as you logged out of your account on the library computer.

YEONJUN [8 PM] my heart bleeds hurry up, love

You didn’t reply.

✦ • ──── FEBRUARY 10, 2025. 8:05 PM

When you left the library, the parking lot was empty—except for one black Mercedes. You’d never seen Yeonjun in anything other than his racing Nissan before, but you quickly concluded this to be his leisure car, simply because you didn’t know anyone else on campus who could afford it.

Noticing Yeonjun’s laid-back side profile through the car window, you marched over, ready to tell him off to hell and back.

“You can’t be fucking serious,” you began as you threw the door open, startling him. “The parking lot is literally empty.”

Yeonjun seemed taken aback by your hostility, but his surprise quickly melted into an excited grin when you sat down in his passenger seat.

“No one’s going to block your car,” you went on, slamming the car door shut. “And if you’ve got some hidden fucking antisocial tendencies, then you should’ve guessed there wouldn’t be that many people inside at this hour. Give me one good reason you waited out here like a sulking fucking teenager, instead of just meeting me inside.”

He leaned forward, looking at you through his lashes. “I wanted to get you alone.”

The pure arrogance on his face made you seethe.

“Fuck off.” You yanked the badge from your bag and tossed it at his chest. It bounced off and landed in his lap. “Here’s your badge.”

“Thanks, love.” He picked it up, not complaining. “This workshop, then. I take it I’m meant to just watch you tomorrow?”

“You are,” you said tightly, knowing full well that wouldn’t be what he’d do tomorrow at all.

Yeonjun tilted his head, pretending to consider it. You smelled mint when he moved and noted that several strands of his hair were wet.

“Alright,” he said. “Might be fair.”

“I understand that won’t be easy for you,” you said, “but how about you try your best anyway?”

He didn’t look up from the badge, but he found your snarky remarks delightful. He looked forward to them, in fact—he’d even left his bathroom mid-shower to drive over to the library and annoy you face-to-face.

“Don’t trust me not to steal your shine?” he teased, flipping the badge between his fingers.

“Don’t trust you,” you replied, “because you’re a massive show-off, and tomorrow isn’t the time or place for that.”

Your voice was cool enough to irritate him in a less enjoyable way.

He preferred riling you up. You were less rational then. Less restrained. More yourself.

“On the contrary,” he said. “We’re helping those kids with their theses. We’re supposed to show off our knowledge.”

“In a helpful way,” you countered. “Not just to boast.”

“Boasting can be educational,” he argued. “It inspires. And knowledge is a form of social currency anyway. S’how you accumulate influence.”

You were starting to suspect he didn’t believe a word of what he was saying. He just wanted to provoke you.

Choosing not to waste your breath on this, you briefly closed your eyes and thought back on your conversation with Professor Myers earlier today.

“You already knew about the workshop on Thursday,” you said, not accusing him of anything, “didn’t you?”

“Probably,” he replied, not yet realising why this mattered.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

He realised it now. You’d been blindsided.

Personally, he thought it would’ve been more entertaining if you’d only found out he was your co-host right before starting the workshop tomorrow morning.

But you already looked almost murderous, so this was alright, too.

“Wasn’t enough time,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “Don’t know if you recall, but we were quite busy.”

His eyes sparkled at the sight of your tightly clenched jaw.

“Right,” you bit, squeezing the door handle. “Because it was only during those seven minutes that you could’ve talked to me about it.”

He shrugged, thumbing the plastic casing of his badge. “Well, when else?”

“Literally whenever.”

Yeonjun tried to remember something from last Thursday that did not involve the feel of your body pressed against his.

Then, he considered pretending that he hadn’t deliberately put off telling you about the workshop just to give you as little time to compose yourself as possible.

But he couldn’t even pretend. He’d been looking forward to your reaction – and now you were yelling at him in his car.

It was brilliant.

“Don’t know, then,” he said with an easy smile. “But this was a nice surprise, I bet, yeah?”

You looked at him like he was the only reason you’d be willing to spend a life in prison. He was very proud.

“Oh, yeah, it was delightful,” you said, voice saccharine. “Although, to be fair, most people call things like this sudden-onset disasters.”

Laughing, he leaned over and reached for the glove compartment. You tensed, shoulders drawing in, and edged closer to the window. Yeonjun caught the movement and shot you an amused look.

“Y’alright, love?” he asked, intentionally lingering even after he dropped the badge inside. He made an effort not to accidentally touch you.

“Yes,” you said. “You done?”

“Sure.” He pulled back and watched you relax in your seat again. This made him endlessly curious. “This could be good for you, too, you know.”

“What could?”

“Me,” he said, satisfied. “You’re far more interesting when you’re mad. The kids in the workshop will love it. Perhaps it won’t be a complete mess after all.”

You scoffed. “Oh, with you in it, it will be.”

His grin widened. He liked it very much when you bit him for his flattery.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “I’m a great addition to this class. Someone’s got to balance out your obsession with books and research.”

Already halfway into a glare, you suddenly changed your mind. Clearly, he thrived on seeing you worked up.

“Oh, so you’d rather inspire them to be like you, then,” you muttered, eyes on the windshield. “Unfortunately, this workshop isn’t Arrogance 101.”

“It isn’t?” He gasped. “Then why’d they ask you to lead it?”

The only thing missing from the smug grin on his face was a tongue stuck out at you. You half-expected it, to be honest. He was a kindergartner with an undergraduate degree.

“It’s probably because I know how to make my knowledge useful,” you said. “As for why they picked you, I’ve no idea. Your parents must’ve grown tired of your loitering.”

Yeonjun winced. He looked almost as though he’d hoped you wouldn’t have said that.

The flicker of a shadow across his face made you wonder, momentarily, if perhaps his parents weren’t a comforting safety net for him, after all. But then you remembered the smirk on his face all throughout the first term. You remembered how the professors always sided with him. Remembered how he bragged after he’d won the scholarship for academic achievements. How every professor greeted him by name despite never seeing him in their class.

You didn’t take your words back.

“Does it make this easier for you?” Yeonjun asked, voice low. “Believing that I’m nothing without my parents?”

“Aren’t you?” you replied. “You’re certainly good at getting what you want. But that doesn’t mean you actually earn anything.”

“Oh, so I fluttered my eyelashes into a scholarship, then, yeah?” he snapped back. “Must be a right pain for you, considering your GPA was already a full half a point behind mine.”

The door handle had turned warm in your tight grip. “How could it not be? I haven’t got professors kissing my ass.”

“My parents don’t know I’m doing the workshop.”

He turned back to the windshield. The words you were about to say died on your tongue, and you swallowed them down bitterly.

“And clearly,” he added, shooting you a look, “our professors don’t think you can handle this on your own. That’s why you need me.”

He knew he’d struck a nerve because your eyes glazed over with a dark, angry shade.

You let go of the door handle. He felt himself release a breath he’d been holding.

“I don’t need you,” you replied, flat.

You didn’t try to defend yourself against the rest of his statement. You couldn’t. He’d said exactly what you’d dreaded your professors, and everyone else, were thinking, too – that you weren’t good enough on your own.

Yeonjun continued to stare at the dashboard of his Mercedes.

“Not recognising your flaws,” he murmured, calmer now, “is a flaw in itself.”

“Not needing you,” you replied, “is not a flaw.”

He tapped his hand on the steering wheel. “Refusing to admit to your shortcomings is also a sign of conceit.”

“Yeah. You would know.”

A lengthy silence settled inside the car.

Yeonjun shifted in his seat, tapping his foot against the pedals and bringing his hand over the keychain by the ignition.

Finally, he stole another glance at you and your pursed lips. He thought he could see the thoughts running through your mind right now. You’d already accused him of nepotism before, and you probably didn’t believe him when he said his parents weren’t involved in the workshop.

“Here’s what,” he said, sliding his hand to the top of the steering wheel. “Tell me what you’ve got prepared for tomorrow. I’ll assimilate.”

Your instinct was to snap at him. Assimilation did not mean cooperation; you knew he’d annoy you into altering the study plan for him.

However, this was likely as close as you’d get to a compromise, so you forced yourself to swallow your already wounded pride.

“Fine,” you said. “Let’s go insid—”

He turned the key, and the engine purred to life with a remarkable peacefulness.

You frowned. “What are you doing?”

“We’re going to mine.”

A normal—sane—person would have granted you the courtesy of asking, is that alright with you?

But Yeonjun wasn’t normal. Or sane.

“You’re joking.” You pointed at the windshield. “Yeonjun, the library is right there.”

“I can’t study with other people around,” he said by way of explanation—or excuse—as he shifted into reverse.

“I’m other people.”

He glanced over, hand on the back of your seat as he reversed out of the empty lot. “Guess I’m used to you after last Thursday.”

You stiffened slightly, just enough to successfully suppress the memory of being backed against his wardrobe wall.

Yeonjun, in the meantime, turned back to the road, his grin still firmly etched on his face.

You considered demanding he stopped the car and let you out. Considered everything that your return to his house would mean to your sense of control. Considered all the boundaries and half-formed dreams.

Then you sighed and put your seatbelt on.

“Fine,” you said. “But you can’t nitpick everything. I’ll be in and out in an hour at most.”

“I never nitpick,” he defended. “I identify flaws that need fixing.”

The car stopped at a red light. You watched a group of students cross the street.

Your entire cohort would have dropped dead, you thought, if they saw you in the passenger seat of Yeonjun’s car right now. You would have, too.

Aside from pushing you into the wardrobe together, your classmates hadn’t really cared about the two of you at the party last week. But this was the second time in the past four days that you were alone with Yeonjun. They’d care now.

“There won’t be anything that needs fixing,” you said, forcing yourself not to think about Reina and everything you hadn’t told her about last Thursday. “I’ve been working on this study plan since last semester.”

Yeonjun smiled like a primary school teacher patiently indulging a student’s nonsense before giving them a proper explanation of how the world worked.

“More time doesn’t necessarily mean better quality, love,” he said.

You despised the way the streetlights painted his features in an abhorrent, glittering golden hue more than you despised the superiority in his expression, and turned away.

“‘Better’ is subjective,” you replied.

He gave this a thought. Then, the light turned green.

“Fair point,” he decided, foot on the accelerator. “We’ll negotiate.”

✦ • ──── FEBRUARY 10, 2025. 8:40 PM

Negotiating was sort of what you did once you and Yeonjun arrived at his house.

Soobin was working the closing shift and wouldn’t be back until 2 AM, so it was just the two of you here, and you settled at the oak table dividing the kitchen from the living room.

The table—undoubtedly an antique—was the size of half of your bedroom. It should have created plenty of space between the two of you. Except, of course, you were stuck poring over the same stack of papers.

Being forced to sit next to each other despite there being plenty of space only intensified your proximity. You were forced to inhale the minty scent of his shampoo and feel the traces of his cologne each time he turned a page, and you could have sworn you’d memorised the scent by now.

But before your mind could torment you with any more flashbacks to last Thursday, Yeonjun snapped you back to reality by being himself.

He complained about almost everything.

There was a flaw in nearly every sentence of your study plan. He wasn’t even offering any insights or alternatives, only criticism—to show off that if he’d been the one drafting the plan, he would have done it better.

You listened to him—or tried to—for half an hour. Then, you gave up.

“Alright, since it’s too late for any drastic reforms,” you said, cutting him off just as he launched into yet another point he thought you had underdeveloped, “how about you just… adapt?”

From the look on his face, you understood you might as well have spoken in Morse code.

“Who says it’s too late?” he asked.

“The clock,” you replied, flashing him your phone screen. “It’s nearly half past nine.”

“Ah.” He smirked, smug and unoriginal. “Your bedtime.”

You’d already known he’d have something to say about that, and did not bother to acknowledge it.

“I’m serious,” you said. He hunched back over your plan, trailing a red pen along every line. “I still have other things to do.”

This got you a glance. “More important than your first-ever workshop?”

“The workshop is fine,” you insisted. “You’re just looking for more ways to insert yourself into it.”

“And you’re looking for ways to keep me out of it.”

You sighed. Perhaps you should’ve left without bothering. God knew you’d already told yourself to go a dozen times since you arrived.

But if you left and he spent the entire night picking apart every little detail in your plan, you knew what would happen at the workshop tomorrow: he’d claim the class was a success thanks to him. That it was his edits that had made the difference.

You sighed again—Yeonjun raised an eyebrow, evidently keeping count—and decided on a different approach. Surely, he didn’t want you in his house any more than you wanted to be here.

“Look,” you said, leaning your elbows on the table. “I recognise that you’re not a complete idiot—”

“Thanks, love. It’s an honour.”

“—but you’ve got to admit,” you continued, “at this point, what you’re doing is just grasping at straws. The plan is fine. For tomorrow, at least.”

He did not deny it, but wouldn’t agree, either.

“It can be better,” he said, underlining yet another sentence. You’d mentally snapped his pen in half five times already.

“Everything can be better,” you shot back. “Perfection is a myth.”

“Well, this doesn’t even come close,” he said, still not looking up. “Bit disappointing, I’ve got to say, if this is all you’ve got after working on it the whole semester.”

The relaxed tone of his voice was one thing, and his insult was definitely another.

But then he underlined another line—and scribbled a question mark in the margin as if correcting your English Literature essay—and you couldn’t sit still any longer.

“That—that’s a transition sentence,” you snapped, slapping a hand on the page. He flinched. “And you’ve marked a fucking Oxford comma. What, you’re questioning my grammar now?”

He glanced up at you, then down at the page again.

“I’m questioning your logic,” he said, tugging at the paper.

You snatched it before he could get a proper grip. After scanning the paragraph he’d been on, you shot him another glare.

“Alright. You want logic?” You stabbed the page with your finger. “This sentence directly addresses the learning objectives I mentioned earlier. Then the next paragraph breaks down the skill progression of this particular rubric into three seminars. The part you’re clearly struggling with explains why three, and not more or less. But no—do go on, please. Add more question marks so we can all see you don’t know how punctuation works, nor do you understand class organisation.”

Yeonjun inhaled to speak, then closed his mouth and reconsidered.

Deciding that was sufficient, you laid the paper back on the table and slid it over to him. Yeonjun picked up his pen again, but didn’t mark anything else.

“I can see now why you don’t do group projects,” you mumbled while he read on. “Things have to be done your way, or not at all.”

“No,” he said, finally looking up. “That’s your expertise, love. And because you think you know best, now I’m stuck editing this into the night.”

“No one’s asking you to.”

“It’s not your workshop,” he said. “It’s ours. And I’m not signing off on a study plan that’s as half-assed as—”

“You think it’s half-assed,” you interjected, “because it’s different from the way you would have done it.”

Yeonjun leaned back, setting his pen down. You expected him to continue his self-assured, borderline entitled critique of everything you’d done, but he surprised you with silence instead.

He studied your expression for a while, something akin to thoughtfulness in his gaze.

“Look,” he said, slower now. “I get it. This isn’t how you’re used to working. You always do everything yourself, and no one dares question you. They depend on you, actually. So maybe to you, this feels like I’m getting in the way.”

Your gaze stuck to his with a perplexed sort of glue. His words sounded disturbingly close to empathy, and you spent a full minute staring back at him in search of a hidden meaning. He granted you that minute.

“You—”

“But,” he interjected just as you began to speak, “you got one thing right. I’m not used to working in teams. And I admit that I’m a—I enjoy things done my way, too. Clearly, we’re both learning something here, yeah? So, sit tight, and work with me.”

You considered telling him that if he’d started from this, this whole night would’ve been much easier.

But there was no point in building rapport. All you wanted was to wrap up faster and go home.

“It would help,” you said, “if you were learning that while actually having an open mind.”

“My mind is open.”

“Not if every sentence I’ve written looks wrong to you.”

“Not wrong,” he argued easily, drawing another—this time more tentative—question mark. “Improvable.”

You dropped your head against the back of the chair with a defeated groan.

Yeonjun looked up at you. At first, he simply sat there for a minute, grinning and thinking of something else he could say that would get you to roll your eyes at him. But the curve of your neck as you tilted your head was too distracting.

He cleared his throat and turned away.

“You’re staring at my ceiling like you’re planning a murder,” he said, rising to his feet, “or a crying session, maybe. I will kindly choose to believe it’s the first.”

You lowered your head enough to scowl at him. He felt it on his back as he turned to the kitchen, lifting the waistband of his sweatpants higher on his waist only for it to drop again.

“Want to take a break?” he asked.

“I want to get home before midnight,” you replied, checking the time on your phone.

“We can take ten,” he decided, opening the fridge. “You look like you could use it.”

“That sounds like an excuse so you could take a break.”

He shrugged. “I need it, too.”

You watched him rummage through the fridge for a moment.

Then, inhaling sharply, you tore your gaze away from his arms and clenched one hand into a fist. Your eyes drifted back to the study plan he’d ‘corrected’, scanning some of his changes.

You could hardly decipher his handwriting, but still noticed that his additions were unmistakably vague, as though he really was allergic to clarity and conciseness. Granted, a few comments raised points you hadn’t considered—or maybe you just read his hieroglyphs wrong—but most of his additions were just repetitions of what you’d said, just in fancier words.

“Okay, tell me, then,” you said, pulling back. “Do you always do this?”

He was still elbow-deep in the fridge, his black muscle tee stretching as he searched for something inside. “Do what?”

“Disrespect the shit out of everyone’s work,” you said, “and then ‘improve’ it by just paraphrasing what they already said?”

He finally closed the fridge and brought over two bottles of water.

You decided you preferred it when he was sitting down, and you couldn’t see how tight his t-shirt was or how low the waistband of his sweatpants hung.

“I’m not paraphrasing,” he said. “I’m expressing it better. Huge difference.”

Never mind, he could keep standing. He expertly distracted you from everything else anyway, by simply being insufferable every time he opened his mouth.

“Oh, right, right,” you said. “Forgive me for not recognising your revolutionary synonyms.”

“You’re forgiven.”

You clicked your tongue and traced it over your bottom lip.

“That’s your brand, then?” you asked. “Wannabe genius with a terminal case of narcissism?”

“Of course,” he replied, unbothered. “Was that not clear before? Did you think I was performing for you?”

He took a sip from one of the bottles, maintaining aggressive eye contact, and you dropped your gaze back to the table.

“I hoped you were exaggerating,” you said. “Turns out, you’re just as dreadful as I thought.”

“Well,” he took another long swig, “happy to meet your expectations, love.”

“Your perfectionism is news to me, though,” you added. “Irritating, sure. But news nonetheless.”

Yeonjun shrugged and capped the bottle. He already knew that you thought he was lazy and lucky, and had to admit that it wasn’t entirely wrong.

The rest of your perception of him, however, was subjective—and he understood that, too. You’d spent years building onto your dislike for him, and you’ve done a very thorough job.

“Contrary to popular belief,” he said, “I’m not actually effortlessly smart. I need to work for it.”

“Wasn’t aware there was a contrary belief.”

He gave you a look.

Fighting your spreading smile, you explained, “I’d always assumed you never cared about anything. Relied on luck and nepotism. Not like you’ll fail anyway.”

“I do care,” he said. “I want my achievements to come from my effort as much as I can.”

Unfortunately, you were starting to believe it. But his effort still differed from yours—from most people’s, really.

He was privileged to receive the opportunities that others had to fight for. He never had to worry about student loans and eventual debt, because his parents had him covered. He could go to class when he pleased, turn up for presentations when he felt like it, then go off drinking and drag racing right after that.

And yet, you supposed, effort was still effort. He wasn’t taking his privilege entirely for granted.

You’d never admit it out loud, but learning that he actually cared about what he was doing—even if that meant your pride had to suffer—made you respect him just a tad more. Not enough to willingly spend another hour in his company, but just enough to relax your shoulders.

“Is there a bus stop nearby?” you asked, opening the public transport app on your phone.

Confused by the abrupt shift in conversation, Yeonjun set his bottle down and watched you until you met his gaze.

“Why do you need a bus?” he asked.

“To get home?” you replied, raising a quizzical eyebrow at his question. “You live at least half an hour from me. I’m not walking that far when it’s dark out.”

“I’ll drive you.”

The incessant buzz of thoughts in your head suddenly zapped to a stop. You blinked at him.

“You’ll drive me?” you repeated, making it sound as if you questioned his ability to drive in general, rather than his voluntary offer to drive you, specifically.

Yeonjun smiled like he’d expected this, and returned to his chair next to you.

“I brought you here, didn’t I?” he said, as if he’d always driven you places, and this was not unusual in the least. “So I’ll take you home.”

You continued to stare at him, no longer surprised, but suddenly suspicious.

He read your expression and grinned.

“Oh, I see,” he said, bringing his hand through his hair. A few stubborn strands immediately jumped back to graze his cheek. “You think this is a scheme to get rid of you so I can lead the workshop alone.”

“Actually, yes,” you said, setting your phone down. “Wouldn’t put it past you to commit a bit of murder so you could take over.”

“Don’t want to go to prison,” he replied, echoing your words from last Thursday. “Not worth it.”

You pressed your lips together and turned away. “Right. Well, thanks, then.”

“Anytime, love.” He nudged the other bottle on the table towards you. “Drink.”

You took the bottle and held it for a moment, as if contemplating it.

His gaze lingered on you as you struggled with the cap, and he’d almost offered to help. Then, once the bottle reached your lips, it was too late to look away.

Frozen in place, he watched your throat move as you swallowed, while he unconsciously gripped the back of his chair.

He only snapped out of the trance when you looked up, sensing his gaze.

A shockwave rippled between you the moment your eyes met.

You turned away, surprised by the intensity of his stare.

He turned away, too, surprised to have been staring in the first place.

Clearing his throat, he said the first thing that came to mind: “Less worried about getting home on time now, Cinderella?”

Relieved to return to your usual pointless back-and-forth, you screwed the cap back on the bottle and set it on the table.

“No,” you said. “Still can’t shake the feeling that I’m wasting my time here.”

“S’because any time someone disagrees with you, you think it’s a waste of time,” he replied, shifting in his chair. “Bit of a God complex, if you ask me.”

Every time he moved, his thigh nudged yours under the table, and you were almost thinking about the things you told yourself you wouldn’t think about again. You fiddled with the label on the bottle to give yourself something else to focus on.

“People don’t have to disagree with me,” you said. “Being annoying for no reason works, too. In fact, that might be the quickest way to waste my time.”

Yeonjun couldn’t hide his growing delight.

“Oh, so I’m wasting your time?” he asked. “That what I did on Thursday night, too?”

The water bottle—still cold under your fingertips—no longer helped your temperature.

“I definitely had better plans,” you said, stubbornly swallowing down every erratic beat of your heart, “than being thrown into a wardrobe with you.”

“So did I,” he said, “but it ended up not being so bad.”

“Sure.” You turned to the damp ring the bottle had left on his table. “Let’s keep beating the dead horse, then.”

“Why not?” he replied very purposefully—he’d noticed you were avoiding his eyes. “Stir up too many memories?”

Sick of the joy in his tone, you pressed your tongue to the back of your teeth and forced yourself to meet his gaze.

“It does,” you said. “I’m not fond of small spaces. Or of you.”

Yeonjun smiled—he always did when he heard you confess to disliking him—and leaned back in his chair.

“Didn’t seem like you were having that terrible of a time back there, though,” he said.

He wouldn’t quit this, you knew that much. You released the bottle and sat back, mirroring his position.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked. “That you’re a good kisser?”

“Don’t want you to say anything,” he said. “I alrea—”

“You already know?”

Less pleased now—he didn’t enjoy being interrupted—Yeonjun pursed his lips. His composure still did not wobble.

“As a matter of fact,” he said, “yes.”

“Well.” You raised your brows, genuinely wishing you had his level of arrogance so you could say things like that without cringing. “I think your kissing is improvable.”

His lips parted in evident offence. Then he scoffed, recognising his own words thrown back at him.

“I can hardly see how,” he said.

“Oh, can you?” you replied. “Bit of a God complex, if you ask—”

“How could I improve, then?” he cut in. “Do elaborate, please.”

You paused. There was no taunt in his voice. He’d meant what he’d said. But it didn’t seem like he heard what he’d said.

“Let me be clear here,” you said slowly. “You’re asking me to tell you how to kiss better?”

You watched him realise what his question had sounded like in real time: his spine straightened, hands settled on his thighs.

“I’m simply saying,” he recovered, “that you’ve got to support your claims with evidence. What am I doing wrong, then?”

Oh, you could hardly wait for this.

“You’re too eager,” you said.

“I’m too eager?” he echoed, eyes widening again.

You smiled, pleased. You could do this all day.

“Yes,” you said. “You rush everything. Come on too strong.”

“Come on too—” He cut himself off with another indignant scoff. “I don’t remember you complaining.”

Startled for a moment, you forced yourself to shrug and fight off the rising heat.

“Well,” you said, “how could I, when your tongue was halfway down my throat?”

Yeonjun blinked once, then twice. You’d just started to smile when he beat you to it.

“Mmmhm, right,” he said. “So you nearly ripping my hair out was your way of saying stop?”

The warmth cracked your composure, and you turned away.

You hadn’t expected him to remember the kiss the same way you had. Hadn’t expected him to throw the memory back at you so easily.

“I adapt quickly,” you said, coughing lightly. “That doesn’t mean you’re doing anything good, objectively.”

His eyes stayed on yours, inspecting every tiny change in your expression.

“Alright,” he said. “So, not good, objectively. But good for you, right? Okay. Noted.”

You swallowed, and your words stumbled into a filler.

“Well, I mean, let’s be honest here,” you said, picking up speed and volume in your voice as you searched for a witty retort. “I had no choice but to find something enjoyable about it. I was stuck with you in that wardrobe for seven minutes.”

His smile stretched wider. “And that’s an awful lot of time.”

“It is with you.”

“We’ve been here for nearly two hours now,” he pointed out. “Just us two.”

“Right,” you said. “But we’re not stuck in a wardrobe this time.”

He leaned in, elbows on the table, his face too close to yours for his next question.

“Do you wish we were?”

You felt your heart pick up several extra beats and blamed the drop in his voice for it.

He was playing his favourite game—flustering and unsettling—which had to be how he won most arguments in life.

“Of course not,” you said, but the righteousness in your tone was not nearly as impressive as you’d hoped. “Do you?”

“I do,” he said.

You blinked before fully turning to look at him. “You wish we were in your wardrobe right now?”

Yeonjun grinned, high on the perplexed look in your eyes. “Have you not heard me, love?”

“I don’t think I have,” you replied. “What’s wrong with you?”

He did not know, actually. But he thought he might find out with you here.

“Guess I love seeing you squirm,” he said, gaze steady, smile relentless.

Your mind flashed back to the morning after his party, when you woke from what might’ve been a dream about him—or a particularly vivid memory. You’d battled persistent twinges of shame and remorse that morning, as though you’d lost a fight against something you’d always believed in.

Now you felt the same.

“Didn’t squirm,” you said. “You were the one fidgeting the whole time.”

He wasn’t thrilled you’d mentioned that, but his grin held.

“My bad,” he said. “Should’ve told me you wanted me closer right away.”

“I was actively trying to avoid you, actually,” you replied. “Thought that was obvious enough.”

“Oh, it was, it was,” he said brightly. “Especially when you kissed me that second time.”  He puckered his lips and blew out a puff of air. “Shit. Really proved your point there.”

The way his arrogance infuriated you was truly remarkable. You bit the tip of your tongue and tapped your fingers against the tabletop.

Yeonjun kept his gaze on yours, thrilled, even if he didn’t know what to expect: another kiss that’d leave him in recovery all weekend, or perhaps a black eye.

You hadn’t decided on either.

“Still thinking about that, then, yeah?” you asked. “And you said it was me who didn’t have a life.”

His eyebrows shot up. The smirk on his lips turned impressed.

“Wow,” he said. “Alright. I—”

Your phone buzzed sharply against the wooden table. The screen lit up with Reina’s name and the time: 10:30 PM.

“Shit.” You grabbed the phone before Yeonjun could continue. “Get back to the study plan before Reina calls the police on you.”

He frowned. “Why would she—?”

“I texted her where I was,” you explained, “and she knows there’s not a chance I’d ever spend more than two consecutive hours in your presence voluntarily.”

He regarded you for a moment. Then nodded.

“S’charming, love,” he said. “Truly.”

You didn’t bother to hide your grin as you opened the chat to reply to your friend, outrageously relieved to escape the spell his intense gaze had cast.

Reina, as it turned out, really was threatening to call the police. You loved her all the more for it.

“Right, then,” Yeonjun said, scooting his chair closer to the table. His thigh bumped into yours again. “Let’s get back to work. Unless there’s something else you’d rather do?”

You set your phone down and met his gaze, matching his smirk.

“No,” you said. “Can’t think of anything.”

Satisfied when he poked his tongue into his cheek and did not reply, you turned to rifle through the papers, deciding which parts of the plan to show him next and which to hide, so you could avoid him crossing out every word you’d written again.

Yeonjun watched you, a small smile playing on his lips. He knew what you were doing, knew you were trying to leave him out of the study plan.

He considered saying something, perhaps accusing you outright.

But he found he didn’t really care.

He simply couldn’t wait for the workshop tomorrow.

prev ○ next (coming soon)

[enhastolemyheart]

TO MY FIRST 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

⭑.ᐟ A rainy Highschool reunion trip with Exes Med Student!Y/N and Lawyer!Sunghoon You knew Sunghoon would be there. Of course he would be. You had made your peace with it. You’re friends now, kind of. It’s fine. Really. Seeing him at your Highschool reunion was kind of a given. That you agreeded going onto a trip with your friends, including him, later that year, however surprised yourself. Sunghoon can somehow still read you like an open book. Of course he could. He was the person you once planned to marry...until life got in the way. You buried yourself in work, in reaching your goals. Between helping out with Jay's toddler, pretending you're not running on empty, and trying to avoid old feelings during the trip , you start to realize something: Somewhere along the way, you stopped living the life you actually wanted. And maybe, just maybe, there’s still time to fix it.

⋆｡◛ ⊹ ⤳ requested ･:*:･｡☆

ᝰ genre. exes to lovers, fluff, angst (just a tiny bit tho) and loads of yearning, heavily inspired by the kdrama 'Love Next Door' ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ warning. stress at work and uni , mention of burnout, insomnia, mentions of death, Y/N is lowkey unhappy with some life choices she made .ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ word count. 31.5 k .ᐟ₊ ⊹

“Y/N. You have to come”, Yunjin whined into the phone loud enough for you to lower the volume of your phone with your free hand. 

“I don’t know Yu”, the emart you were in was fuller than you expected it to be on a Thursday morning at 9 am. “I really don’t see the point in going. We are still in contact, aren’t we? All the people that I want to see, I do, and there are way too many I am glad to not see ever again.”

“Y/N that's the whole point! What about Chaehyun? Or Jake and Jay? Or, oh I don't know, Gaeul? You haven’t met up with her in months?”  You signed and walked towards the frozen section in the supermarket. Lately you didn’t really feel like cooking nor had the time to do so. Jaemin did cook sometimes but most of the time the two of you just got takeout or cooked ready to eat meals. Ramen was your top contender. You’ve tried probably every flavour on the market.  “I called her pretty recently? And I know I haven’t really caught up with the boys. Don’t you think it would be weird to be close to my exes best friends?” “First of all you called Gaeul like two months ago, that's not recent,” Yujin huffed. “And I don't think it would be weird? We were all friends, even after the two of you broke up, remember?” “I know. I just…”, you really didn’t know why the thought of meeting everyone made you feel so queasy, Yunjin was right, they were your friends, or at least close acquaintances. “I don’t know Yu, I feel like it would be weird. I mean I am really a shit friend. I don’t keep up with everyone's life and I never have much to talk about except work or uni right now. That's all my life is.” “Oh, I know. I’ve never seen a worse texter than you, Y/N. But I don’t think the others would mind, they would probably all be excited to see you. It’s been a while and you really deserve a break Y/N. Even if it’s just one evening. Working yourself to the ground only to get your licence won’t make you graduate faster or a better doctor. I am worried you’re working yourself into a burnout”, she said softly. 

You swallowed and stopped in front of the big freezers, looking at the rows after rows of frozen products. She was right. In the last few years your focus has fully been on your studies, your residency or your Board Certification Exam and you didn’t have much time or mental space for other things. Right now work took up most of your awake hours, but somehow it was really fulfilling. Most of the time at least. You loved being a doctor, a gynecologist to be exact. You loved your job, helping people, healing people, bringing new life to the world. Of course there were the shadow sides like the almost 100 hour work week or the days you lose patients. Losing a life is never easy, and would never get easier. You hated shifts in the NICU. “I know. I know.”, you sighed again. “Look Yu, I’ll see what I can do. Maybe someone can switch shift with me, don’t get your hopes too high tho.”  “Yes! I knew I could convince you! You absolutely will be there!”, Yunjin cheered loudly again.  “I just said don’t get your hopes up?”, you shook your head and threw three packets of frozen vegetable mixes into your basket. “Nah uh! You’ll come. I’ll personally call the hospital to ask them to give you that day off, I swear.” You chuckled, “Please do. I would love to see that happen.” 

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You stood in your old room at your parents house, looking at yourself in the mirror. You looked so different to the girl you were 10 years ago when you graduated high school. Your face looked pale in the reflection and your eyes lost the spark they once had. In the pictures glued to your mirror they were so full of life, of ambition. You were so excited for the future that was to come, not fully realizing that the path you choose to take will be harder than you and anyone else back then could have imagined. Nonetheless, you were proud of yourself and still excited to do what you do. You just wanted to finally be done studying, work in an office outside the hospital until you had enough to open your own, give care to mothers and young girls and whoever else has to go to a Gyno. The way to get there would be hard but so worth it. It was your dream after all. You opened your bag and fished for your makeup pouch, applying generous amounts all over your face. The blush you stole from your mother gave you a bit of color back.  You were staying at your parents house, since it was a lot closer to the event location where the 10 year reunion was taking place. It was weird to sleep in your childhood bedroom. Not much has changed in the last 10 years here. Your parents had enough rooms in the house to not really have a purpose for your room anymore. So they just left it be. All your pictures and trinkets in the places you left them. It was like walking into a different world. 

The picture of Sunghoon and you at your high school graduation that was glued to your mirror was fading in the sunlight, the colors slowly losing their vibrance. You reached up and straightened the corners, where the paper lifted from the tape and smiled. Sunghoon was really handsome back then. The way he looked at you instead of the camera made you feel so bittersweet. You always thought he would be the one you would marry, that you would have your first and only love for ever. But life was weird sometimes and it didn’t work out.  With the breakup and your life at uni getting more stressful you never really had much time for anyone but yourself and your friends maybe. Dating wasn’t really on your mind for a long time after you’ve overcome the heartbreak. You hoped he did. That today he would come to the reunion telling you about his wife, his kids, how great his life was. He deserved nothing more.

You sighed when the paper curled into itself again and turned around to get dressed. You and Jaemin, and Jeno, who had no choice, spent almost an hour trying to figure out what you should wear and the final verdict was a black pair of dress pants, the only pair of heels you owned for occasions like this, and a red wrap around top with rather delicate silver jewelry. You loved living with Jaemin, it was a lot of fun. The two of you met on your first day of uni and have been inseparable since then. When you and Sunghoon decided to end your relationship he immediately suggested moving together. He was living in the student dorm and was sick of it. 

So for the last almost 3 years now, you and Jaemin have been living in a rather beautiful apartment near the Seoul National Hospital. Last year he decided to adopt 3 cats, so now there was almost always a bit of chaos in your home. He got together with Jeno, a student, well back then a student a semester higher than the two of you almost 3 years ago now. They were super cute together, but Jeno decided to do his residency in Gangwon hospital, which meant the two of them didn’t really get to move together until Jeno is done and hopefully gets a job in Seoul. 

“Y/N?”, your mother startled you out of your thoughts, “Are you ready yet darling? If you want to be on time we have to go now.”  “Oh”, you turned around and looked at your mother, who was standing in the doorway to your room. She herself was attending a dinner with her colleague and an important client from overseas and offered to take you with her. She was styled impeccable, her gray hair in a strict bun and she was wearing a stunning one piece. You could gladly say you inherited her beauty and grace and annoyingly her work ethic. „I‘m done, mom.“, you nodded and grabbed your purse. „Oh look how pretty you look!“, your mom rubbed her hands up and down your arms when you passed her in the doorway. „My beautiful beautiful daughter. Let’s hurry! I don’t want you to be late!“  She ushered you towards the entryway, where both of you changed from slippers into your heels.

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The restaurant that was picked out for the reunion was an expensive looking one. The tables were all covered in thick white cloth, decked with wine glasses and multiple plates. Classical music was gently playing in the background when you made your way inside. The place was already buzzing with laughter coming from various groups at the entrance to the main room, enjoying champagne and the small appetizers displayed on various high tables.  You spotted Yunjin pretty quickly. She was talking to Heeseung and Jay, laughing at something she said. You didn’t really keep in touch with either of them after you and Sunghoon broke up three years ago. You all did grow up together but you didn’t want to make it awkward for them by still meeting up with them. And you honestly just didn’t want to know how Sunghoon was doing and you know you would have asked. Which wouldn’t have helped you getting over him.  Heeseung spotted you first, waving at you and smiling in your direction. You gave him a small wave back and continued your way through the crowd.  “Y/N!” Chaehyun, who was standing a few feet next to them, lit up the moment she saw you, standing to hug you tight. “You look so good! You cut your hair!” “Oh. Yeah. A few months ago,” you mumbled, glancing at your hair. 

“It looks fantastic, right? Do you know how long I had to endure her going back and forth about cutting it? Horrible!”, Yunjin whined and wrapped her arms around yours.  “I wanted to cut enough to donate it, but it wasn’t long enough, but I also desperately wanted to get rid of the hair”, you grumbled and shoved her away gently.  “Did you have enough to donate in the end?”, Chaehyun asked and passed you a flute of champagne from the table you were standing around.  “Yeah. I cut around 25 cm off.”  “Oh shit thats a lot”, Jake whistled and threw his arm around your shoulder, “Hi Y/N.”  “Hi Jake”, you laughed and boxed him into his side to get off you. You and Jake were going back to kindergarten days. Together with Sunghoon you attended kindergarten and elementary school until Jake went to Australia for a few years. The three of you were inseparable up until you and Sunghoon ended things.  “My mom told me you're almost done with your residency, will we be calling you Dr. Y/L/N soon?”, he asked and stole the flute out of your hand.  You took a deep breath in, “I already am Dr. Y/L/N if I might correct you. I’m done with my residency in a few months and then I have to study for the board certification exam. So some time next year I’ll be done with everything, yeah.” 

Just the thought of having to study for that exam made you want to curl into a corner and cry. The amount of stress that came with that exam and working at the same time was nothing anyone looked forward to.  “It’s so crazy you are pulling this through. You’ve got my deepest respect for that, Y/N.”, Jake tutted and shook his head.  “I’ve always wanted to be a doctor”, you shrugged and smiled at him.  “Everyone!”, Daewhi, your former class president, was standing on a stage further into the event location, “It’s lovely to see you all. Please take a seat, as we would like to start with ordering food. You’ll have enough time to mingle later on.” “Let’s go,” Jake pulled you with him toward one of the tables in the middle of the room, where your friends were already walking towards.  You settled down next to Jake and smiled at Ningning, who was seated opposite of you.  “I can’t believe it’s been ten years since we graduated,” Yujin said, glancing around. “When was the last time we were all together?” Jay answered without looking up. “The funeral.”

Ah. Right. You averted your gaze to look at your hands. “Yeah,” she murmured. “That wasn’t exactly the best time to catch up.” A suspicious looking ring on Ningning's ring finger caught your attention. But before saying anything you let your gaze wander towards Heeseung's hand. He was also wearing a suspicious looking ring. You weren't sure if you just missed it, or if they just didn’t tell you they got engaged, but your heart dropped a bit.  “Hey Jake,” you lowered your voice, to not raise suspicion if you just simply haven’t been told, “did Hee and Ningning get engaged?” His head snapped into your direction and then towards the couple, “What?”

“Look at the rings,” you said, having trouble suppressing your smile. Apparently they didn’t tell anyone.  “Heeseung what the fuck? You got engaged?”, Jake said excitedly.  Heeseung looked up mid-sip of water, blinking like a deer caught in headlights. “Huh?”.  “You are wearing a ring!” Yujin leaned in from the other side, eyes wide. “Wait, are you serious?!” Heeseung scratched the back of his neck, the tips of his ears turning red. “Well... yeah. We wanted to tell you all tonight.” “You got engaged and didn’t tell me?” Jay looked personally offended. “We wanted to tell everyone at the same time,” Ningning said quickly. “We only told our parents. It’s been, like, three days.” The table erupted in noise, demanding details. You couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up. You felt pure relief, knowing that you weren’t the only one who didn’t know. You were never really close with Heeseung and Ningning joined your friendgroup a year after you graduated Highschool, when she and Heeseung got together, so you weren’t as offended as the rest.  “Okay, but where did he propose?” Yujin was practically bouncing in her seat. “Yeah, Hee, if it wasn’t romantic I’m gonna be mad,” Jake added with mock severity. Heeseung shot Ningning a sheepish smile before answering. “Her apartment. I brought flowers, cooked dinner, and then... just kind of asked.” Jay snorted. “Classic. That’s the most Heeseung thing I’ve ever heard.” “It was perfect,” Ningning said softly, and the way she looked at him made your chest ache just a little. You smiled again, this time more to yourself, and leaned back in your chair. The second you glanced away from your friends you noticed a very familiar figure making its way towards your table. 

Sunghoon looked immaculate.  He was wearing a navy suit, with his hair styled neatly and a bag slung over his shoulder. Your eyes met for a second and he gave you a small smile. You returned it almost automatically and then looked back at Ningning who was talking about her parents' reactions, but you weren’t really listening.  He made his way over, greeting Jake with a handshake and Yunjin with a hug, then slid into the empty seat next to you without hesitation.  “Sorry I’m late,” he said lightly, reaching for a glass of water. “Client wouldn’t stop talking.” “Do they ever?” Heeseung offered. Sunghoon laughed, low and tired. “I don’t mind as long as they keep on paying.” He was immediately informed about the engagement and his eyes lit up excited as he started asking the same questions the couple already answered.  You had to almost physically fight the urge to stare at Sunghoon. The last time you saw him was at Jay’s girlfriend's funeral a few months after your break up.  A few minutes of excited chatting later, the waiter brought the menus. The whole table quieted down for a few minutes while everyone was deciding on what to eat. 

You were flipping back and forth not sure what you wanted to eat when Sunghoon leaned a little closer. “Take the fish,” he said quietly. “You’ll like it.” You glanced at him, surprised. “The fish?” “I’ve been here before. It’s good. Not too heavy either. You’ll like it.” You gave a small nod, lips twitching. “You always did like telling me what to eat.” “You always needed help deciding,” he replied easily, looking at his menu again. A moment passed before he gently closed it and turned towards you again.  “So…” he said, “how’s work? Are you still at SN?” You nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t think changing hospital would have changed my workload after all.” “Do you still like it?” he asked with a small hum. You hesitated. Your residence was one of the main reasons why you and Sunghoon broke up. It felt like a touchy topic. “Most days, yes. Some days are just hard. But every job is like that, right?” “Mhm. That’s true”, he turned aback towards the table, reaching for the wine card. “Are you still living with Jaemin?”  “Yeah.”, you nodded. “He adopted three cats a few months ago.” He laughed, eyes flicking back to you. “Three?” “Yep. And of course, Kai’s allergic, so I have to deep clean everything whenever he visits.”

That made Sunghoon pause, his brow ticking up slightly. “Kai?” “Yeah, you probably remember him. Tall, really soft-spoken, kinda chaotic. We study together sometimes.”, you shrugged.  Sunghoon didn’t say anything right away. Just nodded a little. You tapped the edge of your napkin and glanced sideways. “So… how have you been? With work and everything.” Sunghoon leaned back slightly in his chair, resting an arm casually along the back of yours. “It’s been good. I made partner this year.” You blinked. “Already?” He gave a small smile. “Yeah. I mean, it’s brutal hours, constant travel, and my phone might actually be fused to my hand now, but… I like it. Most days.” You nodded slowly. “That’s… impressive.” There was something oddly comforting about that echo of your own answer. “You started studying for the board already?”, he tilted his head a little toward you.  You blinked. “Yeah. I mean yes, I am. How did you…?” “My mom,” he said with a small grin, not even pretending to be subtle. “She keeps me updated. Involuntarily.” “Oh.” You paused, a little surprised. “Right.”

Your mother and his mother were close friends. You forbade your parents to talk about Sunghoon and they have never said anything about him to you. Your mother surely knew he was a partner, with how much his mother flexed with her golden son.  “She said you basically live in the hospital.” You huffed a soft laugh. “Oh lord. That comes from my mom. But yeah, she is kinda right. But, what can I say, night shifts pay better.” “Didn’t think she was wrong,” he said, glancing sideways. “After all, these ladies are the heart of the gossip mill in our neighborhood.” “That is right.”, you nodded slightly.  The waiter came and took your orders, interrupting your conversation. You ordered the fish.  Once the waiter stepped away, Sunghoon leaned in slightly, fingers idly tracing the stem of his champagne flute.

“And your parents?” he asked. “Still working?” You smiled a little. “Yeah. My mom’s been talking about retiring for three years now, but we both know she’d go crazy without it. She seriously has to find a hobby. My dad is still working in the hospital but not as chief physician anymore. He said he was too old for that amount off stress.” Sunghoon laughed quietly. “Sounds about right.” You glanced down at your hands. “I try to visit when I can or go on holidays with them, but it’s... not often. Last time I came down with a fever halfway through and spent most of the weekend in bed. My mom still complains about not having someone who actually takes good pictures around in Venice." “Didn’t know med students were allowed to get sick.” “We’re not. It’s humiliating,” you deadpanned, and he laughed again. You let yourself look at him, really look. His hair was a little longer than you remembered, styled neatly. There was a soft crease between his brows you hadn’t noticed when he first walked in. Tiredness, maybe" “Do you still live around Gangnam?” you asked. “Or did you move for work?” “I moved.” He hesitated. “Actually, I moved back in with my parents. Just a couple months ago.” You blinked. “Didn’t your sister move back in as well?"

“She did,” he said, then glanced down at his watch for a beat too long. “She and her husband divorced last year. But she’s back in Busan now.” “Oh.” You paused, not sure what to say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Sunghoon never really liked his brother-in-law, claiming he wasn’t good for his baby sister. They fought really hard when she told him she would marry him. SUnghoon and Yeji didn’t talk for months afterwards and he was devastated by it.  He shrugged lightly, but didn’t meet your eyes. “It’s alright. She’s doing better now.” There was a small silence.  “Why did you move back?”, you asked softly. He tilted his head slightly. “Mhm. I was living with my girlfriend. For about a year. We broke up in the spring and I moved into her apartment when we got together.” You felt a soft pang in your heart. As much as you wished for him to be happy, to have found love, it hurt a bit to hear that he actually did, while you were distracting yourself with work instead of tackling your feelings. “Oh. I’m sorry, Sunghoon.” “It’s fine. I am over her, she was nice but…it just… wasn’t working. I was always gone. And when I wasn’t, I wasn’t really there, you know?” He looked at you then, and you knew exactly what he meant. “We were both too tired to argue about it. It felt like a dejavu.” He chuckled softly at that and took a sip of his champagne. A beat passed. “And you? Any boyfriends in sight?”

You glanced toward where Ningning was showing off her engagement ring to Yujin, her hands gesturing animatedly. “Not really,” you said. “I thought about it. Dated here and there. But it’s hard when you fall asleep with your face on a chart at 2 a.m.” “That does sound romantic,” he said dryly. You grinned, a little ruefully. “I’m told I snore.” “I can confirm.” You laughed, eyes crinkling and slightly shoved him. “Hey! You snore way worse than I do.” Before he could say anything else, the lights dimmed slightly and Daewhi stepped back onto the small stage at the front of the room. “Alright everyone! Before the food comes out, we’d like to say a few words...” You both turned toward the front, Sunghoon’s arm brushing yours lightly as he shifted in his seat.  As the speeches started, you leaned in a little, voice low. “So… partner, huh? What are you working on currently?”

Sunghoon chuckled under his breath. “Right now? A cross-border IP case. A Korean company’s suing a European firm over design plagiarism, branding, packaging, whole lineup. My team’s handling compliance and preparing expert reports. It’s mostly just emails at 2 a.m. and arguing over clauses in licensing agreements.” You blinked. “That sounds miserable.” He shrugged with a half-smile. “It is. But weirdly satisfying. I kind of like picking apart their statements line by line, figuring out where they copied, what we can use." You tilted your head. “You always did like arguing.” “I prefer ‘debating.’ But yeah. The job’s a lot of drafting, negotiations, risk assessment. We do corporate governance stuff, too! Restructuring, audits, employee protection frameworks. Internal messes that execs don’t want to touch.” He smiled, lifting his glass. “And you?” You groaned. “Don’t even get me started.I honestly do too much in one day to summarize it all. Lots of rotation, many many crying babies and many many grandmas and grandpas that tell me I am doing my job wrong at 3 am when I just helped deliver their grandchild for like 4 hours.”

His eyes widened slightly. “You still don’t sleep much then?” “Not unless it’s at a nurse’s station in an empty hallway,” you said, trying to laugh. “But yeah… third year’s a step up. More decision-making, more pressure. I scrub in way more now. Still supervised, but I’m technically managing my own cases.” “Jesus.” He shook his head, then looked at you. “Also,” you added, leaning back a little, “I have become frighteningly good at drawing blood. I could probably even handle a crybaby like Jake.” Sunghoon gave a theatrical shudder. “Remind me to never pass out near you.” You grinned. “Too late. I already have a target vein.” He lifted his glass in a mock toast. “To poor life choices and me never fainting near you.”

You clinked it lightly. “And to knowing exactly what we signed up for.” “You know…” He ran a finger along the stem of his glass after setting it down again. “I still think it’s kind of insane, what you do.” You blinked at him, head tilting slightly. “What do you mean?” “I mean, yeah, my job’s intense. But I don’t have people’s lives in my hands. No one's bleeding out during a client pitch,” he said, his tone light but eyes sincere.  That caught you off guard. You opened your mouth, but he was already continuing. “And…” He paused for a second, rubbing the back of his neck before glancing back at you. “I never got to say it, but, thank you. For what you did for Jay. And you helped with Haneul after.” Your fingers stilled on your napkin. “I just did my job.” “Maybe,” Sunghoon said quietly, “but it was important. To him. And to her.” You looked away for a moment, your throat tightening. “I still think about it sometimes. About whether I could’ve done more. Maybe she would have survived” “There wasn’t more to do,” he said, firm. “You know that." “I do,” you murmured. “But that doesn’t really make it easier.” Silence settled briefly between you. “Jay said you were really good at doing what you do,” Sunghoon added, his voice lower now. “And kind. That you didn’t panic.”

You huffed a small laugh. “That’s because I did the panicking in the locker room after.” He smiled faintly at that. “Still.” Sunghoon shifted slightly in his seat, reaching into his inner jacket pocket. “Wanna see pictures? Jay sends way too many, and I’m not strong enough to delete them.” You gave a small laugh and nodded. “Yeah. I’d love to.” He unlocked his phone, thumb moving swiftly through albums until he turned the screen toward you. “Here, this was last month. She dressed up as a tangerine for kindergarten.” You leaned in, your smile slowly growing. “Oh my god… she’s huge already. And her hair’s gotten so long." “Right?” He grinned, flicking to the next picture. “This one’s my favorite.”

You let out a soft laugh, one hand subconsciously lifting to your mouth. “Wow. She looks so much like her mom.”

Sunghoon’s smile faded just a little, more fond now. “Yeah.”

You were quiet for a second, watching his screen as he kept scrolling, birthday parties, park visits, messy dinner selfies. Her in a doctor costume, holding a stethoscope upside down.

“She’s really cute,” you said, smile tugging at your lips as Sunghoon tapped through another photo. “She looks like trouble.”

“She is,” Sunghoon said, clearly proud. “But only when she doesn’t get her strawberry milk.”

You gave a small laugh and leaned back a little.

You didn’t say much else, but something in your chest tightened. You were happy for them, you really were. For Jay. For Sunghoon. For this whole, messy, beautiful life they had grown into. You’d just forgotten how far away you’d placed yourself from it all. The waiter brought your drinks and before you even took a sip Sunghoon tsked next to you.

“No Coke Zero?” Sunghoon asked, tilting his head. “Who are you and what have you done with Y/N?”

Your rolled our eyes. “I had three cans this morning.”

“There she is.”

You scowled and hit hid foot under the table. “I had to stay awake. We had a five-hour surgery and the scrub nurse kept humming the same damn trot song.”

Sunghoon snorted into his drink. “Still addicted, I see.”

“You know what?” You raised a finger at him, fighting a smile. “If you mock my Coke Zero consumption one more time, I will curse you out.”

“Oh, have fun with that. I’ll probably enjoy it,” he said with mock gravity. “I’ve heard you curse. It’s like poetry. Angry, caffeine-fueled poetry.”

You leaned in, smiling sweetly. “Park Sunghoon.”

“Yes?”

“I hope your protein shaker leaks in your work bag.”

He gasped, hand to chest. “You take that back.”

“Never.”

“You’re still evil,” he muttered, shaking his head with a grin.

“And you’re still annoying,” you replied, sipping your water, resting, giving him your middle finger like you did when you were sixteen.

“I am actually not drinking too many protein shakes anymore. I’ve switched to actually eating  healthy and protein rich meals.”, he said, sounding almost proudly. 

Yunjin snickered from across the table. “Now you do. I clearly remember a time where the only thing you all ate was chicken, unseasoned chicken, and protein shakes.”

Jay groaned, slumping back in his chair. “Don’t remind me. I was protein-shaking my soul away for like six months straight.”

“Six months?” Jake snorted. “Heeseung tried to bulk for a year. He was eating boiled eggs between classes.”

Heeseung shrugged, totally unfazed. “And I looked great.”

“You also smelled like eggs,” Ningning added flatly, reaching for her water.

You were shaking your head, your head gesturing accusingly towards Sunghoon. “You were the worst of all of them. I swear to god, if you’d asked me to meal prep plain chicken breast one more time I would have used my anatomical knowledge for some illegal activities.”

He gave a sheepish grin. “I was trying to hit macros. And you yourself claimed to appreciate my biceps.”

“I still have nightmares about our air fryer,” you deadpanned. “There were weeks the entire apartment smelled like chicken and eggs.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Sunghoon said, nudging you gently with his elbow.

“I am not,” you insisted. “You once brought chicken breast to brunch with our parents cause you were afraid they wouldn’t prep anything with proteins in it.”

Sunghoon shrugged, unbothered. “Gains don’t rest.”

“You were unbearable,” you muttered, leaning back in your chair, arms crossed as you gave him a narrowed look.

Sunghoon didn’t even blink. “I was bulking.”

“You were insane,” you shot back. “Do you remember the protein powder in your coffee?”

“It tasted fine.”

“You mixed it with my expensive vanilla almond milk. And you made the entire kitchen smell like dirty socks.”

He grinned. “And yet you still ate my chicken.”

“Because I was too tired to cook my own, you menace”, you said flatly. 

You took a sip of your water, the conversation around you dissolving into background noise as Sunghoon leaned a little closer, resting one arm on the back of your chair again.

“I still don’t get how you survived my meal prep,” he said casually, eyes flicking to yours.

You gave him a look. “Oh, I didn’t survive. I suffered.”

He grinned. “That dramatic streak of yours hasn’t changed, huh?" “Park Sunghoon,” you warned, narrowing your eyes slightly, “I swear, if you say one more thing about me being dramatic, I will curse you out so thoroughly you’ll have flashbacks to every anatomy study session I ever made you suffer through.” “Oh, jeez please not. I don’t think I would survive that. You were so mean.” “I was under a lot of pressure!” you said, biting back a smile. “Do you know what it’s like to come home after a 28-hour shift just to find someone boiling chicken again at midnight?” He leaned in slightly, eyes gleaming. “I said I’d do the dishes.” “You never did the dishes.” “I did them… eventually.” “Exactly my point.” He just smiled at you, warm and unhurried.

You exhaled, tipping your head slightly toward him. “Do you still eat like that? Like are you still obsessing over your calories and everything.”

“Sometimes,” he said. “But my mom doesn’t curse me out if I stink up the kitchen.”

You hummed. “Tragic. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

He smirked. “Ah you and your endless compassion.”

“Oh shut up,” you muttered, lips twitching. “I’m about to be compassionate all over your fancy suit.”

He laughed again, quieter this time, and nudged your knee under the table.

“Still so scary,” he murmured.

────────────────────────

Since the reunion, Sunghoon somehow slithered his way back into your life. You’ve seen him at least 3 times in the last month, which is more than the last three years. Probably due to the new outbound clinic you were transferred to being close to your parents house, which caused you, much to your parents delightment, to sleep at home. And considering Sunghoon is living just over the street, meeting him after work was somehow something that happened now. 

Today though, you were prepared. You were standing in the kitchen of the venue your and Sunghoons mother rented out to celebrate their birthdays, cutting up a watermelon into bitesize pieces. Your mothers turned 60 last week, yours on Tuesday and his on Thursday and decided to celebrate together, renting out a small hall and inviting a ton of people. Sunghoon was currently carrying boxes of wine to put into the kitchen's cooler. Both of your mothers roped you in to help out preparing the celebration and who were you to say no. 

“That’s the last one,” he said, breath short. “The cooler’s full now.”

You huffed a strand of hair out of your face.

“Good. We still need to plate the sandwiches, preslice the cake, move the drink station out front and deck the tables.”

He gave you a sidelong look. “Should we demand hourly payment for all of this?”

“We’re being paid in love, you dumbass.”

He chuckled, stepping around your dad and his, who were currently wrangling a caterer sized metal food warmer. It took both of them to maneuver it through the narrow doorway without crashing into the counter.

You leaned away instinctively to avoid the chaos, and Sunghoon did the same, which brought him just a bit closer to your side of the counter.

“Remind me why we agreed to this again?” he asked, settling beside you and propping one elbow against the metal surface.

“Because your mom is scary,” you muttered, fighting with the watermelon rind. “And because mine is lovely and we love helping her.”

“They could have asked our siblings to come earlier.”

You shot him a look. “Don’t act like you weren’t the one who volunteered to organize the drinks as if you didn't know it meant carrying twelve crates of wine.”

“I thought that was the easier job,” he said, rubbing his shoulder with a wince. “I didn’t want to get my hands dirty.”

Just as he said that a watermelon slice slipped in your hands, leaving a pink stain on your white shirt and arm, when you caught it out of reflex. You hissed and leaned over the sink to rinse off quickly.

“You know we have, like, an hour left for everything? Including changing, right?” Sunghoon said, tossing you a towel as you returned from the sink.

You caught it, half-heartedly drying your hands, looking at the watch hanging on the kitchen wall. “Fifty-five now.”

He groaned. “Perfect. I sweat like a pig carrying those wines inside. I still have to shower.”

You wrinkled your nose, pretending to lean closer. “You should. You kind of stink.”

“Thank you, Y/N. Such lovely compliments you give,” he deadpanned.

You grinned, just a little. A piece of your bun came loose and a strand of hair slipped forward again.

He reached out and brushed it gently behind your ear. His fingers warm against the skin on your cheek.

Sunghoon and you both froze.

His hand dropped the moment it registered what he’d done.

“Sorry–uh. Reflex,” he said quickly, stepping half a breath back.

You blinked, laughing awkwardly. “Yeah, well… I guess I give great compliments.”

You cleared your throat before he could say anything else.

“Anyway,” you said, turning slightly so he couldn’t read your face. “Let’s just carry the rest of the stuff out so we can go shower. Whatever we don’t finish, someone else can do.”

“Yeah. Okay,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Before either of you could move toward the trays, the kitchen door swung open.

“Sunghoon,” his mother snapped, stepping inside with her arms crossed. “Why are you standing around while poor Y/N is doing everything? You were supposed to be helping, not loitering.”

You blinked, startled, still holding the towel.

“Oh, no, no,” you said quickly, straightening up and pasting on your best polite smile, you reserved for his mom specifically. “He was just about to carry the platter outside, Aunty. I was making sure he didn’t grab the wrong one.”

Sunghoon blinked at you, seemingly caught off guard for a second. His mom narrowed her eyes.

“Well, don’t dawdle,” she muttered, brushing past him to hover over the nearest table. “We still have to set the cakes out.”

Sunghoon mouthed thank you as he picked up the platter.

You just winked at him and turned back to your watermelon.

────────────────────────

You locked your front door with your clutch tucked under one arm, heels clicking against the pavement. The sun had just started to dip behind the trees, casting a golden wash over the quiet neighborhood. When you stepped onto the sidewalk, you saw Sungoon. 

He was walking a few feet ahead of you, dressed in a dark navy suit. One of his hands was smoothing his hair and while the other typed something on his phone. He seemed tense.

You cleared your throat loud enough to make him glance up.

He blinked in surprise, then gave you a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well, look at that. Fancy seeing you here.”

You stepped toward him slowly, eyeing the suit. “You still wear suits every day?”

“Sure.”

“You’re rumpled,” you said, frowning. You reached forward, tugging at the slightly crooked collar with practiced fingers. “God, how do you wear a suit every day and still not know how to wear one properly?”

His breath caught just slightly as you straightened the fold, your knuckles brushing his jaw for a split second. 

“Your mom would eat you alive if she saw this,” you added, trying to justify why you were suddenly in his personal bubble.

“Thanks for the save. Again,” Sunghoon huffed. “Ever since I moved back, she’s been on my ass non-stop.”

Your brows shot up. “How long are you planning on staying here?”

“Just temporarily,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “My lease ended and I figured I’d take a break from paying Seoul rent. Mistake.”, he huffed, “She’s like: ‘You should be saving. You should get married. You should eat more. You should work less. You should stop slouching.”

You laughed, full and unfiltered. “Your mom is so intense. No offense, but she’s kind of terrifying. Like, how did your sweet dad end up with her?”

He laughed. “Everyone wonders. I think he just blinked and thirty-five years passed.”

You both chuckled as your steps fell into sync.

“She was grilling me earlier,” you said. “Asked if I had any ‘good eggs left.’ I thought she meant for the deviled platter, but nope she meant my ovaries. She told my how my job is so hard and asked whether I plan to freeze my eggs, because she would love me to have some precious kids. I think it came from the right place, but it was still kinda weird.”

Sunghoon winced. “That sounds about right. She still talks about us sometimes. Complains that I let you go.”

You looked at him sideways. “Seriously?”

“She always liked you more than she liked me,” he muttered. “Back when we were together, she used to ask at least twice a week if we were thinking about marriage. Said we’d have ‘sturdy’ children.”

You burst out laughing. “Sturdy? What does that even mean?”

“I think she meant athletic? Or that you wouldn’t let them do the stuff we did as a kid. YOu know sturdy kids. Clever and not trouble maker kids? "I dont know.”

“I probably wouldn’t. We did a lot of shit when unsupervised,” you said, grinning. “But she really did ask you that?”

“Repeatedly. Said she knows if you had my kids, she could more or less flex with her beautiful and clever daughter in law and even prettier kids, since you bring your moms genetics.”

You snorted. “Oh my god. I don’t know if that’s horrifying or flattering.”

“Both,” he said. “Mostly horrifying.”

“Well, lucky for you, I’m no longer your ticket to high-functioning offsprings.”

“Tragic,” he said, with a dry smile.

────────────────────────

You hadn’t even made it ten minutes into the party, standing near the table with the drinks, waiting for Sunghoon to finish pouring himself a glass of wine when one of your moms coworkers came up. You recognized her but couldn’t put a name to her face, she certainly has been kinda friends with your mother for a while.

“Oh, Y/N!” she beamed. “Your mom never mentioned you had a boyfriend and such a handsome one!”

You blinked. “Oh no. No, no, that’s not–he’s not my–”

“Sunghoon,” Sunghoon offered, stepping beside you with a polite smile, holding his glass of wine and your glass of juice. “Just a friend. My mom is the other one celebrating.”

“Ahhh,” the woman said, "I was so sure you were. You are in so many of those pictures together.”

You gave your best awkward laugh. “Yeah, I guess we’ve known each other forever.”

“Oh, I can tell,” she said, waving her wine glass toward the giant photo collage near the dessert table. “Look at that one,” She pointed at a photo from your family trip to Oahu. Your two moms beaming in flower leis, both of your dads awkwardly squinting into the sun… and in the middle, on a striped beach towel, were the two of you. You were in a sundress sitting sideways in Sunghoon’s lap, laughing at something he was whispering in your ear. His arms were loosely wrapped around your waist, while your hand rested comfortably on his knee.

"Yeah…” you said weakly, stomach dropping. “Those were… taken a while ago.”

Sunghoon stayed quiet. Just sipping his drink. You could feel the heat rising up your neck.

“We… used to date,” you offered, forcing a smile. “Our moms are best friends. So, you know…”

She nodded. “You don't have much choice to stay friendly with each other?”

You nodded mutely. Sunghoon gave a vague hum of agreement, and then someone called her name from across the room.

“It was nice talking to the two of you.”, she patted your shoulder, winked at Sunghoon, and wandered off.

You exhaled sharply.

Sunghoon tilted his head toward you. “You good?”

You nodded, eyes flicking toward the photo wall. “Yeah. Why did they have to choose that picture.”

He smiled faintly. “Because my mom is still hoping you freeze your eggs so I can give you some sturdy kids someday.”

You bumped his elbow. “Shut up.”────────────────────────

You were lying in your bed, your blanket pulled up to your chin, one arm shielding your eyes from the light bleeding through your half closed blinds. Everything was either too bright or too loud. And the cats kept taking turns climbing onto your chest or pawing at your face in demand of affection.

It was almost 1 a.m. and you were acutely aware that in just under four hours, your alarm would go off. You really, really needed to sleep.

But you hadn’t been able to, not properly, for a few nights now.

Ever since that dinner a few months ago, the old Kakao group chat had burst back to life. The others were texting and sending pictures what felt like nonstop. For a few weeks now they were talking about going on a trip in the mountains in the South, to relax and just hang out with each other again before the winter started. They were thinking about renting out a house with enough rooms for everyone and their partners. It sounded... really nice, if you were being honest.

But you weren’t sure.

You didn’t know if you could get the time off. You were still in residency, and vacation days weren’t exactly handed out like candy. And at that point you should probably be studying for your board certification like a maniac. 

Eventually, you gave up. Tossing your blanket aside, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and shuffled out of your room. You were somehow too tired to sleep and too restless to stay still.

The apartment was dark, the only light coming from the kitchen. You padded in barefoot and found Jaemin hunched over the microwave, heating up leftover curry. He was still wearing his scrubs and his hair was a mess.

You stood there for a moment, just watching him. Then, without a word, you stepped forward and dropped your forehead onto his back.

“Jesus,” he jolted slightly, startled. “You scared me.”

You didn’t say anything, just stayed there, your face pressed between his shoulder blades. He let out a breath, softening immediately.

“Long day?” he asked, turning around and opening his arms automatically.

You nodded and stepped into the hug, arms wrapping around his middle. He smelled faintly like antiseptic.

He held you for a moment, rubbing a slow hand up and down your back. “You’re warm,” he mumbled. 

You nodded into his shirt. 

“Can’t sleep again?” he asked after a beat, his voice gentle now. 

You pulled back slightly but didn’t let go. “My friends from school are planning. In October.”

Jaemin leaned back just enough to look at your face. “That sounds fun.”

“It does,” you admitted. “But I don’t know if I can get the time off. And even if I do... I should probably be studying.”

“You’ve been studying since July,” he said, deadpan. 

You sighed. “I just… don’t know if I can justify it.”

He gave you a look.

“Take your books with you. Study there. Wake up early and do your flashcards while everyone else is making pancakes or whatever. I am sure no one would be mad if you did a bit of revising.”

You pressed your forehead against his collarbone again, muttering, “I’ll think about it.”

He smiled into your hair. “You always say that.”

“Because I always do,” you mumbled.

The microwave beeped, and the smell of curry wafted up between you. He reached behind you blindly to open it, still holding you with one arm.

“I’ll warm you some up too,” he said, already grabbing a second bowl.

You just hummed and just closed your eyes not moving from where your arms were wrapped around his torso. He set the curry down on the counter with one hand and petted your hair softly with the other one.

“You know,” he said slowly, “you were so excited when you came back from the reunion. You kept talking about how good it was to see them again, how you missed this version of yourself. How you didn’t realize how much time had passed until you were sitting next to them.”

You blinked, but stayed silent.

“So don’t pretend like you don’t want to go,” he added, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “You do. You just feel guilty about it.”

Your silence must’ve been answer enough, because Jaemin gently pushed you away from his chest so he could look into your eyes properly.

“You’re allowed to miss people,” he said, softer now. “And you’re allowed to want something that isn’t hospital walls and emergency pages and OB rounds at 3 a.m. You can take your books. You can wake up early and study. Hell, you’ll probably shame everyone into feeling productive.”

That earned a small, reluctant laugh from you.

“But you can also sit on a porch with your friends and a cup of tea and just be for a few days,” he said. “You’re burning yourself out againat this rate, Y/N. You deserve a break.”

You looked down, chewing on your bottom lip. The idea of a break sounded so nice it almost hurt.

He tilted his head and gave you a knowing smile. “And don't pretend like you're not already halfway convinced. You wouldn’t be standing here with your head on my spine at 1 a.m. if you weren’t.”

“Traitor,” you muttered.

He grinned. “Guilty.”

You huffed, then finally gave a slow nod. 

Jaemin slid a bowl across the counter toward you and sat down beside you, spoon clinking lazily in his curry.

“I mean,” he said between bites, “if I play my cards right, pull a few strings here and there… maybe sweet-talk your boss…”

You snorted. “You’ve never even met my boss.”

“I’ve seen him once. He looks like the type who caves when someone brings good snacks and compliments his hairline.”

You gave him a look. “He’s bald.”

“Exactly. Low bar.”

You rolled your eyes, but the edge of your lips tugged upward despite yourself.

Jaemin shrugged. “Just use like… two vacation days. Plan your night shift compensation properly. Worst case, you stack five NICU shifts and hate yourself for a week?”

“But wouldn’t I hate myself during the trip then? You know, the week after five NICU shifts?”, you asked, blowing the curry on your spoon, to cool it down slightly. 

He grinned into his food. “When don’t you hate yourself tho? I’m just saying: go. Take the trip. Drag your flashcards along, torture everyone with study sessions if you must. But don’t skip it. You’ll regret it.”

He was right. You would regret it. You would regret missing out again. But you couldn’t let that be a distraction. You didn’t look up, but your voice came out a little smaller. “What if I get behind?”

“You’re already ahead. You’re always ahead. For God's sake I haven't even bought the books I’ll need Y/N. You started two months ago. And you still have 7 to go.”

There was a long pause.

Then you murmured, “Okay. I’ll ask.”

Jaemin smiled, finishing his last bite. “Good girl.”

You lifted your head just to smack his arm with your spoon.

He winced dramatically. “Are you assaulting your emotional support roommate? Unbelievable.”

“Three cats are my emotional support. You just do the dishes.”

He gave you a lopsided grin. “Then let me earn my keep and make sure you don’t work yourself into an early grave.”

────────────────────────

You were taking your time walking home from work a few weeks later. You were stationed at an outbound clinic near your parents house this week again. Half of that clinic's staff was sick with Covid and the hospital stationed some of their residents there. So you decided to stay over at your parents house, sleeping in your old room and helping your mom babysit your niece for the weekend. You'd been spoiled with warm dinners and unsolicited affection all week as well. Honestly, you weren’t complaining.

You were walking slowly, enjoying the last beams of sunshine when you noticed Sunghoon walking past you. His jacket was slung over his arm and he was typing furiously on his phone. 

You accelerated your speed, stepping in sync next to him: “Sir, do you perhaps live in this neighborhood? I'm in dire need of directions, I might be a bit lost here.”

He flinched and his head snapped into your direction. 

“Jesus, you just scared the shit out of me, Y/N.”, he said, breathless, holding his phone against his chest. 

“Sorry Sunghoon,” you laughed and padded his shoulder. 

“I am afraid I can't offer you directions though. I might be equally lost right now. It seems like we are in dire need of a guide, that guides us towards a certain gs25 to buy some ice cream, perhaps?" he said, raising his shoulders in faux confusion. 

“Oh! I think I saw a particular gs25 on my way here, but I am afraid I really want to get home! It appears like my niece has been brought to my mothers and I really want to cuddle my very adorable niece, perhaps an ice to go?”, you nodded and walked backwards up the hill. 

“That’s a noble excuse,” he said, adjusting his bag and shifting his jacket to the other arm. “But would you accept delivery instead? My mom’s in a bad mood today and if I stay home any longer I might spontaneously combust.”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Hmm. I suppose if you’re fleeing maternal wrath, I can offer sanctuary. My mom will probably force-feed you soup the second you walk through the door.”

“I’m counting on it,” he said, grinning as he fell into step beside you.

────────────────────────

The second you stepped through the door, your mom peeked around the corner from the kitchen, eyes lighting up.

“Y/N-ah! Oh, you brought a surprise with you!” she said, hands still dusted with flour. “How lovely!”

You sighed dramatically, kicking off your shoes. “I found Sunghoon on the street and had to rescue him.”

Your mom tutted but looked pleased. “Come in, come in. Look at you! So skinny! You need to eat something.”

She reached up without warning and patted his cheek affectionately, like she used to when you were teenagers. Sunghoon just blinked and let it happen, offering a half-bow and a sheepish smile.

“Hi, Aunty. Sorry to show up uninvited.”

“Nonsense. You’re always welcome here,” she said, already turning back toward the kitchen. “Sit, sit! I just made some jeon. Do you still like that?”

"Sure, Aunty!", Sunghoon said and took off his shoes.

You followed her into the kitchen. “Is Gaeun awake?”

Your dad’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Fell asleep about an hour ago. She’s still out cold.”

You groaned, deflating and turning back to walk to the living room, where she usually slept and played when she was over. “Ugh. I wanted to shower her with kisses. Telepathically tho. I am not about to get her sick.”

Sunghoon followed you. “Didn’t spend enough time with babies today?”

You shot him a look. “Not the cuddly kind.”

He raised a brow as you crossed to the blanket pile on the couch and gently peeked in at the sleeping baby. “Weren’t you at the clinic today?”

“Outbound rotation,” you said. “Lots of prenatal consults. It’s mostly OB-GYN. So yeah technically babies but unborn babies.”

“Ah,” he said. “Makes sense.”

You knelt beside Gaeun and ran your fingers softly through her hair. “She’s my one and only baby though.”

Sunghoon leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Do you have another niece I missed out on?”

You shook your head. “Nope. Just Gaeun. Which is why she’s getting spoiled for life. Everything she wants she will get from her cool aunt Y/Nie.”

“She’s lucky.”

Gaeun shifted in her sleep, one chubby fist curled near her cheek.

“She’s literally the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” you whispered, doing your best to not wake her up.

Sunghoon crouched beside you, resting his arms on his knees. “You say that every time you see a baby or a dog.”

“Because it’s true every time,” you said, gently pulling her blanket up. “Look at her cheeks. I want to bite them. Is that weird?”

“A little.”

You gave him a side-eye. “She smells so good as well. I would die for her.”

He laughed under his breath. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m in love, Sunghoon. You wouldn’t understand.”

He just shook his head, smiling. “You’re completely gone.”

“She’s going to grow up thinking I’m the cool aunt who brings stickers and inappropriate snacks and teaches her to lie about bedtime.”

“Which… would be accurate.”

“Exactly.”

You watched her for another long beat, her tiny chest rising and falling steadily.

“She’s going to be such a menace,” you whispered fondly.

Sunghoon’s voice was quieter now. “With you as her guide? No doubt.”

"Hey I am not that bad of an influence," you protested, brushing one finger over the babies soft cheek. 

"Yeah. Jake and I totally didn't have to cover for you whenever you did something stupid at school. You were always a lawful student," Sunghoon chuckled. 

You rolled your eyes and huffed. "Looser. At least I had fun." 

From the kitchen, the smell of jeon drifted in, followed by your mom’s distant voice calling your name.

You sighed, standing up and stretching. “Alright. Let’s go eat before she decides we’re both too skinny and starts force-feeding us.”

Sunghoon followed you out of the room, glancing once more at the sleeping toddler. 

────────────────────────

The four of you sat around the small kitchen table, your dad pouring more makgeolli into his cup, while your mom fussed over whether Sunghoon had eaten enough rice. The overhead light cast a golden hue over everything. 

“So, Sunghoon,” your dad began, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Are you still working yourself to death?”

Sunghoon let out a small laugh. “Trying not to. But yeah, it’s still busy.”

“Busy is good,” your mom chimed in, but she gave him a narrow look. “But are you eating? Sleeping? The two of you never did when you moved out and were left to your own devices.”

“Mom,” you groaned.

“Don't tell me I am wrong. And now look at the two of you. So skinny and overworked. You should eat another serving Sunghoon, you have to stay strong.”

“I go to the gym 4 days a week, Aunty. I am strong," Sunghoon said, deadpan.

Your parents started grilling him with questions you were pretty sure they already knew the answers to. It was coming from a good place and very lighthearted though. After all, Sunghoon had practically grown up in this kitchen so it was a given they wanted to hear from the man himself where he was now in life. You couldn’t count how many times he’d skipped out on dinners at his own house to crash yours instead.

He answered patiently, a bit sheepish but not uncomfortable. You could tell he didn’t mind it, really. Not here.

By the time your dad had moved on from work questions to retelling the same story about your high school prank war for the third time, Sunghoon had finally settled deeper into his seat.

His sleeves were rumpled now. He’d unfastened the top button of his shirt at some point and rolled his shoulders back, laughing at something your mom had said about his childhood appetite. The tight line at the edge of his jaw had softened. His posture was less perfect. He looked younger.

You couldn’t stop watching him.

It wasn’t intentional, you weren’t even sure what had pulled your gaze back to him in the first place. You couldn’t stop thinking how familiar it all felt.

How natural it still was to have him here.

Like nothing had changed at all in the last ten years.

And maybe, in some ways, nothing had. Your parents still looked at him like he was the son they never had. Your mom still offered him second servings before anyone else. He still used the honorifics around your dad even though he’d been told not to twenty years ago. He still looked like the same boy who had come over three or four nights a week in high school, when his own house, despite being spotless and felt… cold. Unforgiving.

Sunghoon had always been the golden boy: top grades, varsity athlete, polite to a fault. Your teachers loved him, which was why he was able to get you and Jake out of sticky situations almost easily back when you were in highschool. He was admired by everyone. You couldn't remember a single person that didn't like him. But at home, he had never been enough.

You’d seen it yourself, how tense he got when his mother called. How he flinched slightly at praise, like it was a test he had to pass again. How he learned to be charming because being himself was never quite the right answer. You hated his mother for doing that.

He could’ve brought home the moon and his mom still would’ve asked why it had craters.

And yet your mom loved him the second you brought him home at age 5. She gave him as much food as he wanted, gave him all the attention he needed, and came to every skating event, even if his parents couldn’t make the time. She somehow managed to get off work, every time, sitting in the bleachers of those ice rinks cheering for SUnghoon together with you. She had treated him like a teenage boy deserved to be treated: not perfectly, just kindly.

He was laughing at something your dad said, his hands working though the perfectly styled hair, messing it up in the progress.

That was the version of him you fell in love with so many years back.

Not the one in suits. Not the one fielding client calls at eleven. Not the one sitting in meeting rooms with the weight of a multi-million euro deal in his jaw.

But this Sunghoon.

The one who grinned with his whole face. Who passed side dishes to your dad before being asked. Who muttered sarcastic little asides only you would catch. The one who used to steal bites from your plate and fall asleep on the living room floor with his head resting against your knee.

The version of him you thought you knew forever. The version you thought you would always have.

You were different now too, older, sharper. Always tried and always rushing. Every time you saw him now, which was admittedly only 7 or 8 times over the last months, he seemed stressed and tired. 

Sunghoon looked over, just briefly, catching your eye mid-laugh.

“What?” he asked, mouth still curled into a smile.

You blinked, startled. “Nothing.”

“You’re staring.”

“I’m digesting.”

He narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion, but let it go.

You glanced down at your plate, heart suddenly too full and too tired at once.

So much had changed.

And yet sitting here, in your moms kitchen, her ugly table cloth spread under your dishes and you wondered if maybe not everything had.

Just then a sharp wail echoed from the living room.

You were already halfway out of your chair. “It’s okay, I got her–”

“Y/N, sit–” your mom began, but you were already waving her off.

“I got her,” you said again, grinning as you darted out of the kitchen. “My favorite niece is calling for me!”

Sunghoon chuckled as you practically sprinted down the hallway.

In the living room, Gaeun’s face was red and scrunched, tiny fists balled up near her cheeks, her cry high-pitched and frantic.

You knelt beside her, scooping her up in one smooth motion, pressing soft kisses to her temple.

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” you whispered, rocking her gently as you reached for the bottle your mom had prepped earlier. “You’re hungry, huh?”

She latched on instantly, her cries quieting between gulps.

You sat down with her in your lap, humming softly under your breath as she fed, your hand gently stroking her soft hair.

From the hallway, Sunghoon leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed, watching quietly.

“Impressive diagnosis, Dr. Auntie,” he said softly.

You turned to look at him, bouncing Gaeun gently. “Years of clinical experience. And also I just… really love her.”

He tilted his head slightly, watching you cradle the tiny baby. “I can tell.”

You smirked. “Why do you sound surprised?”

“I’m not,” he said, but his voice had gone quieter. Softer. “You’re just… good at this.”

You glanced down at Gaeun, who had started to calm a little, blinking up at you with watery eyes.

Sunghoon didn’t speak for a moment, he came over and lowered himself onto the sofa next to you. When he did speak again, his voice was softer than before. “You’ve always loved kids.”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “Still do.”

He nodded slowly. Then, without looking at you: “You used to say you wanted three.”

You laughed under your breath. “I did. I also said I wanted a dog that talks and a husband who bakes soufflés.”

He smiled at that but didn’t respond.

After a moment, you added, quieter: “I don’t know. The older I get, the more it feels… unreachable. Like even if I wanted a kid right now, I couldn’t.​ I’ve spent so long working toward this career… I’m just now getting to the part where all of it might pay off.” You took a breath. “Having a baby would derail everything.”

“That’s so sad,” he said quietly. “You always wanted this.”

You didn’t answer right away. Just rocked the baby gently and let the silence stretch between you.

After a few beats you glanced at him sideways. “How was your day?”

He groaned lightly and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Oh, you know. Same circus, different set of clowns.”

You raised a brow. “That bad?”

He let out a quiet laugh. “Not even surprising anymore. I spent my whole morning fixing a report someone else screwed up, then got blamed for responding ‘too bluntly’ in an email. And someone scheduled a meeting over lunch. Again.”

“That’s cruel.”

“It should be illegal,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t mind the job. Honestly, I like it. I worked my ass off to get here. It’s just…some of these people make me question humanity.”

You laughed. “That bad, huh?”

He turned to you with a dry smile. “If natural selection applied to PowerPoint formatting, I’d have peace.”

You snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Am I wrong though?”

You shook your head, a little smile playing on your lips. “No. Just dramatic.”

His tone softened then. “But really... I’m lucky. I know that. I’ve got a solid team, good salary, stability. I just wish I didn’t have to babysit full-grown adults while pretending to care about their feelings.”

You nodded slowly, gaze dropping to the baby in your lap. “Sounds exhausting.”

“It is. But…” he paused, voice dipping into something more honest. “You kinda just accept it. Like, this is what it looks like. Being a grown-up.”

You were quiet for a second.

“Yeah,” you murmured. 

You both sat in silence for a bit, the baby sleeping peacefully in your arms now. 

“You know,” Sunghoon said after a long moment, still gazing at the crib, “your mom… she really did take me in like a son.”

You turned to look at him.

“I don’t think I ever said it out loud, but I’m so grateful for her. And for your dad too. They’re such–” He paused, trying to find the right word. “They’re just… really good people.”

Your heart tightened a little. He wasn’t the kind of person to say things like that unless he truly meant them.

A beat passed before he added, more quietly, “And you… you’re turning out just like them, you know?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity. You opened your mouth, unsure of what to say, but before you could respond, your mom’s voice came from the hallway.

“Sunghoon-ah, my son,” she called warmly, stepping into the room in her worn slippers and a floral apron still tied around her waist. “I’m heading to bed. You should go home too, it’s getting late, you look tired.”

Sunghoon stood, his posture straightening instinctively. “Yes, of course. Thank you for having me.”

She waved him off, already moving to turn off lights and tidy a stray cushion. “Oh, don’t you worry about that! Come over more often, please, even if Y/N isn’t here.”

She paused in the doorway, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’re getting too skinny again. Tell your mother to feed you properly.”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll let her know.”

With a soft goodnight, your mom disappeared down the hallway, the floor creaking familiarly under her steps.

The room was quiet again, save for Gaeun’s slow breathing.

Sunghoon turned to you, his smile lopsided, softer than before. “Guess I better go before she packs me leftovers for the whole week.”

You grinned, standing to walk him to the door. “You know she probably already did.”

At the door, he slipped on his shoes and turned back toward you.

“Thanks for letting me crash dinner.”

“No worries,” you said, leaning against the frame. “You apparently needed it.”

He nodded, then paused, as if he wanted to say something else, but didn’t.

Instead, he gave you a little wave. “Night, Y/N.”

“Night, Sunghoon.”

The door closed with a quiet click.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the empty hallway.

You looked down at Gaeun, now snuggled against your chest, fast asleep. Her tiny breaths warmed the fabric of your shirt.

After a few minutes, you brought her into your childhood room, gently lowering her into the crib your mom had set up earlier. She stirred slightly, but didn’t wake.

You stood there for a moment, just watching her, the soft rise and fall of her chest, the little sigh she gave as her fingers curled near her cheek.

Then, slowly, you turned and climbed into bed.

The ceiling hadn’t changed. Neither had the faint sound of cicadas outside the window or the way the floor creaked when someone walked down the hallway.

But you had.

And lying there, in the same room you used to stay up in texting Sunghoon under the covers, you felt the quiet ache of time slipping past.

So many things had changed.

And yet tonight, for just a few moments, it had felt like nothing had.

You turned onto your side, pulling the blanket up over your shoulder, your gaze drifting toward the crib in the corner.

“Night, Gaeun,” you whispered

────────────────────────

You were sniffling slightly when you stepped into your apartment two months later. It was quiet except for the soft clicking of claws on the hardwood floor when Luna wandered to the door to greet you. Her fur was soft against your hand, when you squatted down to pet her. “Hi love.”,you whispered and nudged her head against your palms, purring loudly. You closed your eyes for a second and took a deep breath before standing up again. You dropped your bag in the door, only taking out your water bottle and empty bento box. The hallway mirror catched your attention when you looked up again. Your eyes were puffy, skin pale, your once neat braid now slipping out of its tie and clinging to the back of your neck.

Jaemin was right, you did get 4 days off, but you did hate yourself a bit. Five nightshifts in a row was almost as bad as it got, but you got to spend your time in the NICU so it was even worse. You were used to the intensity of the NICU, as it was one of the stations you worked most frequently, but today had just been a horrible shift. You lost two babies. Both were premature and it was almost clear from the start that their tiny bodies were too weak to fight for long. You had been the one to talk with the parents. 

You hated that part most. Hated the way their faces crumbled when they realized what you were about to say, how it somehow had gotten to be so normal for you that the words weren’t stuck in your throat anymore, how you now had enough experience with grieving families to stay professional.  

Your stomach growled loudly and you groaned because you knew you wouldn’t have time to eat anything. Jay would be here in less than thirty minutes and you still had to shower and finish up packing the rest of your clothing. You figured you could ask him to stop at a rest area on the way and get something to eat and a coffee there. Afterall, the others wanted to hike today so kaffeein sounded reasonable to keep you awake. 

You rolled your shoulders back and padded to the bathroom. Setting the water to the coldest temperature you could bear, you quickly washed off the hospital. You didn’t even bother applying makeup or properly styling your hair, only blowdrying it. You said yes to this trip because everyone kept telling you it would be good for you. A break. A reset. But right now, standing barefoot and with wet hair in your bedroom, the idea of spending four days around people felt more overwhelming than comforting and refreshing.

You got dressed anyway. Jay would be there soon, and he was punctual to a fault, even at 7:30 am.

You pulled on a random hoodie that was draped over your chair and sank down on your bed for a second. The hoodie still faintly smelled like Kai, who had borrowed it to you after you forgot to bring a jacket to the library and he had insisted you wear it on your way home to avoid getting sick. You really should text him again. 

For a second you thought about calling your mom, telling her how or anyone you were just tired and wanted to sleep, how you wanted to come home to her having cooked lunch, how you just wanted to spend time with her but it was early and she always rushed through morning phone calls with too many things on her plate. Your dad would probably be mid-surgery prep, he was the one who understood you the best at the moment, having gone through this exact process already. Yunjin would understand, or pretend to, but you’d see her in a few hours. You didn’t want to drop all of this on her before the trip even started. 

And Jaemin had been running on empty lately too. He and Jeno were going through a rough patch at the moment, with Jaemin spending his time working or studying, just like you were. It was hard for other people to understand, the constant pressure to be working perfectly and Jeno wanted to get at least a bit of his boyfriend's attention and time, which Jaemin just couldn’t offer right now. 

At least the cats were here.

Lucy had followed you from the bathroom. The second you laid back, she jumped onto the bed and curled up beside your hip like a small, warm stone. The other two weren’t far behind, hopping onto the foot of the bed and stretching out without a care in the world.

You reached out and gently scratched behind Luks ears. The silence of the apartment settled around you, soft and heavy. You closed your eyes for a second, trying not to think about the hospital or the certification. Just anything else. 

You stayed there, curled up with your cats, waiting for your body to gather just enough energy to stand again. You still had to pack. Jay would be here soon. You’d feel better once you hit the road and were under people again. Being alone never did you any good. 

A few minutes after you finished packing the rest of your clothing and fed the cats. You grabbed a mask and a cap, anything to make your puffy face feel a little less exposed, slung your laptop bag over one shoulder and wheeled your small suitcase out the door. 

The elevator was empty on your way down. 

Jay’s car pulled up a few minutes later. You straightened a little as he stepped out, smiling that big, comforting Jay-smile that hadn't changed since high school. His girlfriend was in the passenger seat, stretching backwards to hand Haneul, who was sitting in a booster seat, a piece of apple. Sunghoon sat next to her in the middle seat. He waved at you and you plastered on a tired smile. 

“Hey,” Jay said as he popped the trunk. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, lifting your suitcase in before he could. “I came straight from the hospital.”

He blinked. “You serious?”

You shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Did you work a night shift?”, he asked while closing the trunk door. 

“Man, I worked five nightshifts in a row for this trip. Just to see all of you losers.”, you joked as you followed him around the car, sliding into the seat next to Sunghoon. Before you could greet any of the others Haneul screeched: “Kitty!”

“Kitty?”, you said, blinking at her and then Sunghoon, who was looking at the toddler with an equally confused face.

“Kitty!”, she just said again and pointed at you. 

“Oh.”, Sunghoon laughed lowly, “On your hoodie.” He gestured to the two cats that were printed on the front of your hoodie. “She really loves cats.”

“Oh.”, you said and smiled at the child, “Yeah kitties, you’re right Haneul.” 

Sunghoons whole side was pressed into yours in the tight space of the backseat of the car. 

“Good morning Y/N,” he said softly.

“Hi,” you answered just as softly as you adjusted your bag in your lap. 

“Y/N, this is Seol,” Jay’s girlfriend turned around from the front, a warm smile on her face. 

“Nice to meet you,” you said quickly. 

“Yeah! It’s so nice to finally meet you as well! I’ve been told a lot about you by the rest.”, she said and laughed gently.

“Only good stuff I hope!”, you nudged Sunghoons shoulder with yours. 

“Nah I exclusively told her about how you are an awful cook and are obsessive about cleaning and hate chicken.”, he shrugged and smirked. 

“Okay Seol. Those are lies and he is exaggerating. I can cook decently and he is just as obsessive with cleanliness!", you exclaimed and punched him this time. 

Everyone laughed and Jay threaded the car into the morning traffic. 

“Is it okay with you if I sleep a bit? I just came from a nightshift and I am really tired.”, you asked shyly after a while. 

“Oh no no. Just sleep, we will wake you when we are there.”, Jay said and lowered the volume of the radio, which was currently playing kids songs. 

“Okay, thank you,” you nodded and rested your head against the cold window. 

────────────────────────

You stirred as the car slowed to a stop, the rumble of the tires on gravel pulling you halfway out of sleep. A moment later, a hand brushed your shoulder and gently nudged you awake. You blinked one eye open.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon said softly. “We’re at a rest stop. Do you wanna stretch, pee, get something to eat?”

You squinted at him, brain lagging behind. “Mhm,” you mumbled, not even sure what you were agreeing to.

He huffed a quiet laugh, and the sound made you smile for a split second before your eyelids slid shut again.

“I’ll get you something,” he said under his breath, already maneuvering himself out of the car. You caught a glimpse of him awkwardly twisting his long legs past Haneul’s booster seat on the other side before the door shut with a thud.

The warmth of his body left with him.

You must’ve dozed off again, because the next thing you knew, the door creaked open, cool air slipping inside. Then something cool and plastic pressed lightly against your arm.

“Hey.” His voice was closer this time. “Here.”

You blinked up at him, disoriented. Sunghoon was standing just outside the car, holding out a plastic container and a bottle of water. His hair was a little messy from the wind, his sleeves pushed up.

“Will you let me in? I really don’t feel like climbing over Haneuls seat again”, he said, shaking his head. 

You groaned. “Ugh. Yeah. Gimme a sec.”

You unbuckled your seatbelt and made your way outside of the car, taking the bowls and the bottles Sunghoon was holding. He climbed in and waited for you to hand him your breakfast back before returning to your original position. 

He handed over the lower plastic container. The lid was already cracked open slightly. It was an acai bowl. The same one you used to get back in med school when you had early study mornings. He bought them every time he went grocery shopping, picking out the bananas for you, because he knew you didn’t like them. You glanced down. No banana slices, not a single one. His bowl had what looked like an excessive amount of bananas inside.

You didn’t say anything. Just swallowed quietly and dug the spoon in.

The car started rolling again, Jay humming along to some pop song on the radio, and Haneul giggled as Sunghoon tried to open her triangle gimbap without tearing the nori apart. You ate slowly. The fruit was tart and cold, the granola soft but still sweet. It settled your stomach a little. When you were done, you capped the empty container and leaned forward, slipping it down onto the floor near your feet. 

“Thanks,” you murmured, eyes half-lidded again.

Sunghoon gave a small hum of acknowledgment, still focused on cleaning sticky rice off Haneul’s fingers with a napkin.

You let your head fall back against the seat, eyes drifting shut again. You didn’t notice when your head tilted to the side, bumping softly against the firm line of Sunghoon’s shoulder.

────────────────────────

“Y/N,” a voice said softly near your ear. “We’re here.”

You blinked awake, your vision was slow to adjust as you realized your head was resting on something warm.

Oh no.

You jerked upright, barely catching yourself with your hand against the door. Sunghoon’s shoulder was right there, where your cheek had been. Heat rose fast in your chest and flushed up your neck.

“I- ” you stammered, brushing hair out of your face, “sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

He just laughed quietly, unclipping his seatbelt. “You were dead asleep. It’s fine.”

“But I-seriously, I didn’t realize I-”

“Y/N.” He looked at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Shut up and get out. We both know you needed the sleep and I was not about to wake you because you used me as a pillow. ” He slid out of the seat with practiced grace and stretched his arms out. “I would have if you drooled on me tho.”

You nodded, flustered and still not fully awake, but you managed a muttered, “Right. Okay. Thanks.”

Outside, the mountain air was noticeably cooler than the air in Seoul. The morning fog hadn’t lifted completely yet, and the gravel crunched as you all moved toward the house you rented. Haneul was skipping ahead to Seol, her tiny backpack bouncing with every step.

The house was bigger than you expected. It was a two-level cabin-style place with warm wooden siding and wide windows. 

The house had enough rooms for each couple…and one for you and Sunghoon. Yunjin and Ningning both offered to room with you while Sunghoon slept in their room with Heeseung or Taesung. You declined, not wanting them to be forced to sleep in a room with you when they could be spending time with their partners just because you might feel a bit awkward. For the record you were feeling a bit awkward but this was also the ninth or tenth time you saw Sunghoon after breaking up. But not awkward enough to switch rooms, that's for sure. 

You followed, a step behind Jay and Sunghoon, your own suitcase rolling quietly over the gravel. At the base of the staircase, Sunghoon paused again and turned halfway to you. His voice was lower this time, not as even. “Um. You want me to carry yours up?”

You blinked. “No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.”

He nodded once and started up the stairs with your suitcase anyway, the quiet creaking under his steps the only sound for a moment. The hallway upstairs was lined with doors, the floorboards creaking softly under your steps. Sunghoon led the way, peeking into rooms, mumbling under his breath about finding the one with two beds. When he finally found it at the end of the hall, he stepped aside so you could see inside.

"Looks like this is us," he said, nudging the door open.

Two single beds, pushed against opposite walls, faced each other. A shared dresser stood between them, and soft afternoon light filtered in through gauzy curtains. You stepped in and dropped your backpack on the closest bed with a sigh.

“Man,” you mumbled, kicking off your shoes and letting yourself fall face-first into the mattress, “I’m so tired I might actually cry.”

Sunghoon let out a low chuckle behind you, the familiar sound making your shoulders unclench just a little.

“Then sleep,” he said, dropping your suitcase beside the dresser and his own against the far wall. “No one’s gonna judge. We’ve all been in the car for hours, and you came straight from work.”

You rolled onto your back with a groan, one arm over your eyes. “No, no. It’s fine. I’ll just power through.”

“Y/N,” he said flatly, crossing his arms. “Sleep. I am not dealing with a grumpy you just because you want to prove a point.”

You cracked one eye open and squinted at him. “I’m not grumpy.”

He gave you a look. “Y/N.”

“What?”

“Sleep.”

You huffed and repeated yourself. “I’m not grumpy.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Right. You’re worse than a toddler.”

Your jaw dropped. “Liar.”

“I’ve dealt with an actual toddler. Extensively. Believe me. I know the signs.”

You grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it at his head. “You absolute menace.”

He caught it midair, smug as ever. “I lived with you for almost seven years. You were sleep-deprived for at least four of them.”

“Exactly, and I was very pleasant.”

“You were a hazard.”

You squinted at him. “Say that again and I’ll smother you with your pillow tonight.”

He just laughed, tossing the pillow back at the foot of your bed. “If you don’t sleep, I swear I’ll lock you in this room and take your phone and laptop with me.”

You stared at him. “You wouldn’t.”

“I absolutely would.”

He raised a brow. You narrowed your eyes. Then flopped back down dramatically with a heavy sigh. “Fine.”

“That’s what I thought.”

You rolled onto your side, hugging the pillow. “Maybe I was a toddler. But you still loved me.”

There was a pause. 

“Shut up and sleep.”, he threw the pillow back at you and it hit your back with a dull thud. 

You smiled into the blanket, smug despite the exhaustion. “That’s what I thought.”

“Seriously, Y/N. If you don’t pass out in the next five minutes, I’m calling your attending and request sedation.”

But you didn’t argue further. You curled up properly, pulling the blanket over your shoulder and tucking your legs in. The bed was soft and smelled faintly of laundry detergent and cedarwood. The last thing you registered before sleep pulled you under was the quiet creak of the door as Sunghoon stepped back out. ──────────────────────── You had no idea how much time had passed when you felt the full weight of another person slam onto you. “Wakey wakey sleeping beauty.”, Jake whispered in your ear. “Jake,” you groaned, voice muffled into the pillow. “Get off me.” “I missed you too,” he said cheerfully, wiggling around on top of the blanket and fully ignoring your attempt to shove him off. “Congrats, you’ve been selected for a special mission.” “What,” you grunted, “the hell are you talking about?” “Grocery run,” he said, as if this was the most exciting thing ever. “You, me, and our favorite law nerd.” You pried your eyes open. “Jake. Move your fat ass.” “No can do,” he sang, “not until you confirm your participation.” You growled something unintelligible and tried to sit up anyway, managing to half-shove him off as you groggily blinked around the room. It was brighter now, early afternoon, probably. You felt puffy-eyed, warm, and absolutely not ready to deal with Sunghoon or Jake or any decision-making. Still, you sighed, stretched, and got up. “We were picked in a fair game of rok paper and scissors and Yunjin lost for you. So we’re going to emart.”, Jake grinned and watched how you tried to shake yourself awake. “Fine. Whatever.”

Jake grinned and clapped like a seal. “Let’s go, Sleeping Beauty.”

────────────────────────

The glass doors slid open with a cheerful chime, and you immediately veered off to grab a shopping cart.

"Okay, let’s be efficient and quick," you began, only to slow down as you reached the ramen aisle. "Actually… should we grab some for Heeseung?"

Jake perked up immediately. “Oh yeah, let’s goooo.”

Sunghoon groaned behind you. “God, not again. This is gonna be just like that trip to Sokcho, isn’t it? Where you and Heeseung lived off Shin Ramyeon and triangle kimbap for three straight days?”

Jake grinned. “Those were elite meals.”

You snorted, grabbing a couple packs. “You two are actual menaces. There’s a toddler on this trip now. No one’s living off processed soup. I will feed her and anyone else who might want to participate healthy and nutritious meals.”

Sunghoon nodded solemnly. “Y/N is right. We have to be responsible adults now.”

Jake blinked. “You literally bought Haneul cereal with marshmallows inside.”

“Okay, and?” Sunghoon raised a brow. “I was totally planning on having an overly excited two year old running through my flat.”

You whacked the handle of the cart gently with your hand. “I swear to god, if either of you tries to feed Haneul overly processed sweet cereal on this trip i will murder.”

“She liked it!” Jake argued.

“She’s two!” you shot back, exasperated. “of course she would like Lucky charms!” 

The three of you kept bickering your way through the aisles, Sunghoon and Jake tossing in snacks and frozen dumplings while you tried your best to balance out their food choices with fresh produce and at least two kinds of leafy greens.

Eventually, as you neared the checkout, Sunghoon slowed near a display stacked with colorful plushies and plastic toys.

“Ha-neul would love this,” he said, reaching for a giant bubble wand shaped like a bunny, which apparently made fairy noises when used.

“Nope,” you warned, grabbing the cart tighter. “Absolutely not. Put it down.”

“But–”

“Sunghoon.”

“She’d be so happy–”

“She’d also swing that thing like a sword and decapitate one of us.”

“Honestly, I’d accept it,” Jake said, nodding solemnly. “I’ve lived a full life.”

You sighed. “You two are impossible.”

Sunghoon, completely ignoring your scolding, tossed the wand back dramatically like a child denied his favorite toy. “You’re no fun.”

“And you,” you said, pointing at him with a cucumber, “want us to not be able to sleep cause Jay's already very loud and energetic toddler has a very loud and annoying toy, Sunghoon.”

Jake just laughed, loading the conveyor belt with ramen packs.

────────────────────────

“You holding up okay?”

You were slumped a little in the back seat, elbow propped against the window only paying half paying attention to their conversation. “Dude,” you said, rubbing at your eye, “I am so tired. I’ll probably go to bed before Haneul tonight.”

Jake laughed a little and Sunghoon piped in: “She fell asleep in the car and snored.”

You shot him a look so sharp he should’ve bled. “Okay, stop.”

He raised his hands in faux innocence, grinning. “Just saying.”

You groaned and pointed accusingly at both of them. “Sunghoon snores like a fucking chainsaw and Jake, you do too. So if I might have quietly snored a little after crying my eyes out because I had to tell two parents their baby died–” Your voice cracked for half a second, and then you snapped your mouth shut, looking out the window. “I get a pass. Okay?”

It was silent for a long moment. 

“Yo, what the fuck,” Jake said softly.

You didn’t look back at them. “Let’s just not talk about it, yeah?”

There was another beat of silence, filled only by the soft sound of the radio playing another overplayed song. You really wanted to change the topic, Jake and Sunghoon would definitely never not talk about it so you had to distract them somehow. 

“You know what,” you said, reaching for Sunghoon's phone, which was resting on the middle console, “This radio channel is shit I will now be the DJ of our ride.” 

Sunghoon gave you a side glance. “I won’t listen to any of your musical songs right now. I can’t handle Hamlet while driving a car full of idiots.”

“That’s because you have zero taste,” you shot back, unlocking his phone. His pin hasn’t changed since high school, it was his sister's birthday. “We’re going full nostalgia today.”

Jake perked up. “Like, high school bangers?”

“Exactly.”

You scrolled through your old shared playlist, the one you all made back in your second year. A beat later, the opening notes of Hello by Joy filled the car, and you couldn’t stop the grin spreading across your face as you cranked the volume up.

“Oh no,” Sunghoon muttered. “Turn it down before you break a window.”

You ignored him and immediately began singing along.

“You’re throwing off my depth perception,” Sunghoon complained over the music. “I can’t see with you murdering the melody like that.”

“Oh really?” you leaned forward slightly, singing  louder now and way off-key on purpose “Hellooooo~”

Jake wheezed but joined in.

“I’m pulling over,” Sunghoon threatened, though there was an unmistakable smile tugging at his lips. “You’re going to get us arrested for noise pollution. Turn the music down at least a bit Y/N.”

“I can’t do that,” you said and shook your head, “but I can switch to the next song!”

The moment Jake heard Twenty-three start playing, he perked up.

“No way,” he grinned, mouth still full of seaweed chips. “Turn that up even more.”

You obliged. Sunghoon groaned audibly. “Absolutely not.”

Too late. You and Jake launched into the chorus at full volume, harmonizing terribly on purpose.

“I’m twenty-three, I’m a riddle~” you sang, leaning toward Sunghoon with a smug grin. “Try to figure me out, boy~”

Jake chimed in with a falsetto, “But you still won’t get itttt~!”

Sunghoon had his head resting against the steering wheel at a red light. “I’m going to crash this car on purpose.”

“Oh, come on,” Jake laughed. “You love us.”

“I used to,” Sunghoon muttered. “Before you both decided to assault me with IU.”

You turned around in your seat, eyes squinting like a grandma. “You used to like this song. You said it was genius lyricism, remember?”

“I was young and stupid.” ──────────────────────── The house was buzzing when the three of you returned. Everyone had already changed into hiking gear, sneakers laced and backpacks slung over shoulders.

“You’ve got ten minutes to change, my loves!”, Yunjin said instead of a greeting when the three of you arrived back. 

You groaned playfully. “We’re not even allowed to sit down first?”

“Nope,” Heeseung said, tossing a protein bar at you. “Fuel up and get moving, we don’t wanna miss the sunset.”

Jake was already halfway up the stairs, so you trudged up behind him with Sunghoon following suit. When you pushed into your room, you headed straight for your suitcase, searching for the leggings and the hoodie you brought for going on a hike.

Sunghoon stood awkwardly near the door for a second, “Uh, I’ll just use the bathroom, give you a minute to–”

You cut him off without even looking up. “Sunghoon, you’ve seen me naked like… many, many times.”

He froze.

You tugged out a hoodie and looked up with a raised brow. “In the last two years, not much changed aside from maybe me gaining some weight. Just turn around and change. Even if you peek, I don’t really care.”

He blinked. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, already pulling off Kai's hoodie over your shoulders.

Sunghoon turned around and reached for his suitcase. 

You both changed in mostly silence. Mostly, because you started muttering curses under your breath when your sock got stuck in the corner of the suitcase and Sunghoon, still facing the wall, chuckled.

“I heard that,” he said.

“Great. I am glad your ears haven’t lost their function in the last ten minutes.” ──────────────────────── This was a mistake.

You were maybe thirty minutes into the hike and already regretting every life decision that had led to this moment. The incline was steeper than you remembered from Yunjin’s very casual description of the hike, and your thighs were burning. Your hoodie stuck uncomfortably to your back, your water bottle was nearly empty and you still had almost an hour to go, if not more.

You tugged your cap down further, wiping your sweat-slicked forehead with the back of your hand. You were never really a athletic person and considering you’re spending your time studying or working, this ‘small hike up the hill’ was a bigger workout than you anticipated.  “Who the hell thought walking uphill for two hours to eat dinner was a good idea?” you muttered mostly to yourself.

Sunghoon glanced back over his shoulder and grinned. He was only a few steps ahead, walking backwards now with infuriating ease.

“You’re the one who said you wanted to see more green.”

“I meant, like. Spinach in my rice. Not trees around me.”

You huffed and slowed a bit more. Your calves were screaming. This was not what people with four night shifts behind them should be doing. You should be home sleeping or studying, not sweating through your hoodie and trying not to trip over exposed roots.

Sunghoon waited at a bend in the path, hands on his hips. “You okay?”

You gave him a flat look. “Do I look okay?”

“Honestly?” He tilted his head. “You look like you’re about to just lie down on the floor and wait until someone is going to pick you up, like Haneul just did.”

You snorted. “I’m wasting precious study time to walk around trees, Park. I have fetal monitoring notes to memorize. Placenta slides to cry over. Meanwhile, I’m out here, climbing hills.”

He laughed. A real, full laugh that pulled his shoulders up and crinkled his eyes.

“Want me to carry you like the toddler you are?” he offered, already half-turning like he might actually mean it. You knew he could and would if you asked. 

You waved him off. “Absolutely not. If I’m dying, I’m dying with dignity.”

“Noted.” But he slowed down anyway, matching your pace without a word as the rest of the group drifted further ahead. ──────────────────────── The hike was worth it. The view was ridiculous.

Golden light spilled over the horizon, washing the mountains in soft warmth and making the little patio of the restaurant glow like something out of a movie. The food was incredible, grilled meat, fresh vegetables, jjigae bubbling in the middle of the table.

You leaned back in your chair, a half-full bowl cradled in your hands, and watched the others laugh.

Heeseung and Ningning were teasing Yujin’s boyfriend, who looked overwhelmed but pleased. Jake was narrating a story about a ski trip you did a few years ago to Seol, while Jay kept adjusting the tiny blanket wrapped around Haneul’s shoulders where she was now curled up asleep in his lap, her tiny face smushed against his chest. You felt something crack a little inside your chest.

This was the sort of evening you used to dream about. Group trips with the people you loved most.

You used to think… you’d bring your kid along. You always dreamed of having kids early, to raise them with your chaotic group of friends, just like Jay had.

You blinked slowly, staring down into your bowl of rice. 

You really should have been there. You should have taken the time out of your schedule when it wasn’t as stressful as it was now to stay in contact with your friends, to see Haneul grow up. To help Jay whenever he struggled. For god sake if someone knew how to handle kids, or well new borns, it was you. But you felt so guilty that you couldn’t even look Jay in the eyes. 

You hadn’t meant to drift so far away. You just… kept choosing work. Kept telling yourself there’d be time later. That after the internship, after year one, after the shift change, after this week of nightshifts… But the weeks had somehow stretched into years. 

You looked up, eyes flicking across the table. Jay was murmuring something to his girlfriend, brushing a bit of rice off Haneul’s cheek. He looked happy. 

You cleared your throat and reached for the water pitcher, blinking hard. ──────────────────────── Back at the house, everyone slowly said goodnight one after another, apparently drained from the hike up to the restaurant. You moved on autopilot, brushing your teeth, tying your hair up in a sloppy braid, pulling a hoodie over your tank top. Sunghoon was already in bed when you slipped back into the room. 

The air in the room was warm, a little stuffy, but somehow very familiar. A faint mix of detergent and something you couldn’t name but had always been his. Just... him.

“Goodnight,” you mumbled, tugging your phone charger to your side of the room.

“Night,” he said, his voice already thick with sleep. And not five minutes later, his soft, uneven snore rumbled gently through the quiet.

You laughed under your breath. He always snored when he was dead tired.

But somehow you weren’t even close to being dead tired.

You laid there, eyes open, staring at the slats in the ceiling. Your blanket was bunched at your waist, legs too warm to be under it, arms too cold to be free. The soft rise and fall of Sunghoons breath should have been comforting, it always was when you couldn’t sleep, but all it did today was echo in your chest. Usually if you couldn’t sleep and Jaemin was home you would have slithered into his bed and tried to fall asleep listening to his heartbeat or his breathing, but you really didn’t want to ask your ex to cuddle you because you couldn't sleep. 

God, the whole room smelled like him. That was unfair.

You gave up just before 2am.

Silently, carefully, you slid out of bed, grabbed your iPad from the tote near the door, and crept into the hallway.

The house was quiet. Not the hospital quiet you were used to, filled with beeping and heavy footsteps, but real quiet.

You made your way into the main room and curled up in the corner of the couch, dragging your hoodie sleeve over your hands to warm them. With a sign you opened anki and tried to focus. 

Somewhere around half an hour later, your phone buzzed.

Jaemin: The restaurant looks really good. How did they get you to hike up there tho?

You huffed out a soundless laugh.

You: It’s 2:37.  Why are you alive.

Jaemin: Nightshift.  And I’m on break. Why are YOU alive.

You: Can’t sleep.  Again. Brain won’t turn off. So i am studying. 

Jaemin: Of course you are. You absolute gremlin. If you are still active on anki when i take my next break ill come to that house and steal your electric devices! 

You in fact were still active on anik when Jaemin had another break at 4:30 am but decided not only because he was scolding you, but also because you finally felt exhausted, to sleep.  ──────────────────────── The floor creaked under your weight when you tiptoed back into your room. Sunghoon stirred as you slid into your bed again, but didn’t wake up. 

You weren’t sure what woke you, the creak of the door, maybe, or the sudden burst of cold air against your legs when the blanket shifted, but the next thing you registered was a high-pitched squeal:

“Uncle Sunghoon!”

You heard the thud of a small weight launching itself onto Sunghoons bed, followed by the sound of tiny feet thumping against the mattress and Sunghoon’s very quick, very groggy, “Shhh, hey. Haneul, not so loud. Shhh.”

You blinked your eyes open slowly. The light in the room was already too bright for how little sleep you’d gotten. Your head ached dully behind your eyes and your limbs felt like lead, every cell protesting the idea of being awake.

Still, a part of you couldn’t help the soft pull at your mouth when you saw Haneul crawling over the covers, tugging at Sunghoon’s sleeve.

“Aunt Y/N is still very sleepy so we have to be very quiet, okay?”, he asked her while sitting up and pulling the giggling toddler into a hug. 

“Breakfast”, she said with a bit too much enthusiasm into her pacifier, only to be sushed by Sunghoon again. 

“Let’s get some breakfast for you and let Aunt Y/N sleep, huh Haneul? Is that fine for you?”

The toddler nodded enthusiastically and clinged to Sunghoon's upper body when he untangled himself from his blankets.  

You didn’t say anything, just pressed your cheek into the pillow and let your eyes close again, heart catching strangely at the sound of Sunghoon’s voice speaking for you. 

The door clicked softly shut behind them. ──────────────────────── When you woke up again, it was well past ten.

It was quiet. You took a deep breath and rubbed your eyes harshly before making your way into the bathroom on the hallway. It was cold inside, someone left the window open after showering. Soft morning light filtered into the room while you washed your face and brushed your teeth.

The floor creaked faintly when you shuffled into the kitchen. It smelled like food and your stomach grumbled loudly when you saw the plate of fried egg and toast on the counter. A stickynote was glued to the waterbottle next to it: “We took Haneul to the petting zoo! Didn’t want to wake you, you looked exhausted. We’ll be back around lunch. Text if you need anything ♡”

You stared at the note for a moment, rubbing at the sleep still clinging to your face. They left without you. You reached for the note. Somehow you were glad that they let you sleep in but you were missing out. Again. Even though you finally had the time to actually come along. You shook your head to get rid of the thoughts quickly, they meant well. And them not being there until lunch meant you could maybe be a bit more productive than last night. After a long warm shower you actually styled your hair for once, curling the edges slightly and bundled yourself up to go down to the city. The air outside was crisp and smelled like rain when you took a deep breath through your nose. You wandered without much direction, letting your feet carry you past a few small shops before finding a little cafe tucked between two houses. Its windows were fogged up and it seemed like half of the town was squeezed into the little space. The bell above the door chimed quietly when you made your way in. A couple sitting near the window stood up the moment you entered so you settled into their seat as soon as they gathered their used cutlery. You ordered a coffee and one cookie and pulled out your Ipad. You almost didn’t notice the waitress returning with your order, already flipping through your notes. It was almost embarrassing how much comfort you found in pharmacology charts. 

Almost an hour later you took a toilet break and used the chance to look at your phone.

Yujin: where u at?? we're back!!! 

You smiled a little and typed back a short reply: Y/N At a café. I didn’t feel like staying in the house alone.  Thanks for letting me sleep in

Yujin: No worries. It was boring anyway. There were like 3 sheeps and a fuck ton of mud. Haneul was excited tho so it’s whatever She is napping rn and we’re gonna nap as well. She woke the whole house up at 7 am.  What do you wanna eat for Lunch later? Jay is cooking 

Y/N Yikes. I don’t really care.  Text me when you wake up, I’ll come back to the house <3

Yujin:Will do <3 

Fifteen minutes passed, maybe twenty, before someone tapped your shoulder. You glanced up, expecting it to be the waitress. But when you turned around it wasn’t the waitress, it was Sunghoon. 

His hair was slightly tousled from the wind and he was holding up two cups, wearing that same quiet smile you’d seen on him a hundred times before. One that was more eyes than mouth.

"Hey," he said, setting the drinks down before sliding into the seat across from you. 

You blinked. “Hi Sunghoon. What are you doing here?”

“I didn’t feel like sleeping,” he said shrugging. “And I have to work a bit. One of my clients has been sending me emails nonstop. So I figured I could join you.”

“I-uhm- sure,” your gaze dropped to the cup he placed in front of you. It was Yuja tea. Your favorite.

He leaned back in his chair, unzipping his laptop bag. “I swear this client is causing me to grow gray hair prematurely,” he said casually. 

You huffed a soft laugh, watching as he opened his laptop. “I know a good hair dresser that could help out with that.”

“Thank you Y/N. I’ll come back to that in a few years.”, he just chuckled.

You stared at him for a second longer than you should’ve before shaking yourself out of it and turning back to your tablet. “I’m sure it will be sooner than later if you can’t catch a break even on a vacation day,” you murmured without thinking.

He glanced at you, eyes crinkling. “Look at who’s talking.”

You didn’t reply, just hummed and pouted at him. 

You were halfway through your second set of flashcards when Sunghoon asked, voice soft but curious, “Did you sleep alright?”

You leaned back a little. “Yeah. Thanks for saving me from the Haneul alarm clock, by the way.”

That made him laugh quietly. “You owe me big. She was already so energetic at 6 am, I barely managed to keep her from waking up the whole house. Jay the traitor sent her to us cause he wanted to continue sleeping.”

You raised your brows. “He sent her to us? Why that? How did you manage to keep her quiet?”

“Bribery,” he said immediately. “I promised her the chocolate bread Yujin brought if she let you sleep. And that kid loves me. I am officially the favourite uncle so it's just logical.”

You smiled behind your cup. “You’re a real hero.”

“I know,” he said dramatically, then lowered his voice. “Honestly though, I don’t get how she has that much energy.”

You snorted. “Probably from her mom. Minhee was a morning person afterall. And I mean don’t complain you used to wake me up at the crack of dawn when you went out for a run.”

He gave you a look. “Please. Just cause you’re lazy and an evening person, I don’t have to be.”

“Still am,” you said with a grin. “Don’t judge me.”

“I’m not judging,” he said, mock-serious. “I’m just saying I’ve seen you do night shifts on nothing but Coke Zero and mint gum. And suffer when having to go to a morning shift even though you slept a whole 8 hours.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a laugh. “I function just fine, thanks.”

He hummed like he didn’t believe you, then went back to typing something into his laptop.

For a few minutes, the only sounds were the tapping of keys and the soft hum of conversation around you. 

It was strangely… familiar. The two of you, sitting in this calm pocket of the afternoon, sharing space again. Studying or working together in silence. ──────────────────────── Almost two hours later Jake called Sunghoon to come back to the house. Everyone, including the actual toddler, had woken up from their nap and they were about to start cooking. 

You looked up from your Ipad to look outside. Streams of rain were streaking down the foggy windows. 

“Mhm,” you said, wiping the condensation from the window with your sleeve. “Looks like we are going to get a free shower.” 

Sunghoon's gaze followed yours. “I think I have an umbrella in my bag. Wait a second.” 

He leaned down to lift his laptop bag onto his lap. A small teddy plush was dangling from its handle. 

You chuckled and reached forward to turn it into a front facing position while Sunghoon was searching around in his bag. “This is cute. Where did you get that?” 

“A colleague gifted it to me for my birthday last year,” he said absentmindedly, “ah ha! Look at that. An umbrella.”

You laughed at him when he triumphantly held it up into the air. “Now nothing is stopping us from eating whatever Jay cooked!” 

You both slipped your shoes on and stepped out into the drizzle. The umbrella opened with a snap, and Sunghoon tilted it slightly toward you as you huddled close, bags clutched to your chests.

After five steps, your shoulder was already soaked.

“Can you hold it higher?” you asked, trying to wedge in under the tiny canopy.

“I am holding it higher. You’re just hoarding the dry space,” he shot back, elbowing you lightly.

“Oh, please. I’m sacrificing my entire back right now.”

A gust of wind caught the umbrella from underneath, flipping it slightly and splashing a cold stream of water down both your necks. You shrieked.

You shoved him gently with your shoulder, nearly knocking him into a puddle. “Maybe if you worked out less, there’d be more room under here.”

He snorted. “Don’t blame the broad shoulders. You yourself said my arms are delectable, if i might remind you.”

“I did!”, you said, pressing your side closer into his, “but I didn’t know the consequences of you having a beautiful back and arms would be me being drenched in rain.”

By the time you made it back to the house, your jeans were clinging to your legs, your hair was stuck to your cheeks, and the only dry things were your laptop bags. 

You both stopped in front of the door and stared at it.

“Please tell me you have a key,” you said, already knowing the answer.

Sunghoon patted his soaked pockets uselessly. “It’s inside. I didn’t think we’d get locked out in the wilderness.”

You rolled your eyes and reached up to jab the doorbell. From inside, you heard the muffled sound of footsteps and then the click of the lock.

The door swung open and Ningning blinked at you both, horrified.

“Jesus Christ, what did you do?”

Without missing a beat, you shrugged. “Sunghoon and I decided to share a free shower.”

Ningning took one look at the sad excuse for an umbrella dripping on the porch and stepped aside. “You two are a cautionary tale.”

You walked past her with your bag clutched to your chest like a lifeline. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Ning, I called dibs on being the first one in the proper shower.”

“I didn’t hear anything about dibs,” Sunghoon protested behind you.

“I made it spiritual,” you called over your shoulder. “Go dry your pretty arms somewhere else.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, kicking his shoes off. ──────────────────────── Jay had cooked enough to feed an army. The whole table was filled with plates and drinks, most of them non-alcoholic, to your surprise. Hanuel had claimed Sunghoons to be her chair of choice for the dinner. 

You’d ended up on the far end of the table, half-listening to a conversation between Heeseung and Jake about whether or not a smart fridge was a worthy investment, but your gaze kept drifting. You weren’t even trying to be subtle about it.

Sunghoon had one arm loosely wrapped around Haneul to steady her, the other wielding a spoon with exaggerated precision.

“Here comes the airplane,” he said, swooping the spoon in mid-air. “It’s approaching the hangar! Landing initiated in three… two… one!”

Haneul squealed and opened her mouth wide, clapping her hands when he made a whooshing sound as the spoon “landed.”

You smiled. You just couldn’t help it.

He did it again. And again. Each time with a new variation. Rocket ship. Puppy taxi. Bubble boat. Her tiny body rocked with laughter, head thrown back as he played along, utterly unbothered by the food smeared across her cheek or the rice sticking to his sleeve.

You watched the scene unfold with something warm and gentle blooming in your chest.

It felt a bit bittersweet at the same time. You were a stranger in a room full of uncles and aunties, despite knowing all the uncles and aunties for years, god forbid you even helped her being born, but you were never there. You never gave her a chance to know you as auntie Y/N.

Your eyes stayed on them.

He was so at ease. Smiling, shoulders relaxed, wearing a oversized hoodie, his hair still slightly damp from his shower.

He glanced up once, catching you watching. He gave you a little wave with the spoon before turning back to Haneul.

You looked down at your plate, cheeks flushed, fingers suddenly fidgety.

Jake nudged your elbow. “You okay?”

You nodded quickly. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

Jake hummed and you knew he didn’t believe you. You didn’t believe yourself either.  ──────────────────────── After you finished eating and cleaning the dining room, the group gathered in the living room. Haneul had asked if you could watch Cinderella so the whole group decided that, ten adults should somehow squeeze onto the two sofas in front of the TV to watch Cinderella. 

Someone had dimmed the lights, and you ended up tucked into one corner of the couch, knees bent, feet slipped under Yunjin’s thighs for warmth. She didn’t even blink, just handed you the end of the blanket.

Sunghoon was on the floor, his back against the couch, Haneul wrapped around him. Her small body had gone lax with exhaustion, one cheek pressed to his chest, her breathing deepening slowly halfway through the movie.

You had your kindle on your lap. You were reading one of the books you downloaded a while ago. It was something sweet and uncomplicated, the kind of story that usually soothed your overworked brain. But tonight, you couldn’t concentrate on the story at all. You signed and closed the book. Your gaze wandered through the room until it was stuck on Sunghoon again. 

He wasn’t watching the movie either. His eyes were half-lidded, head tilted slightly toward the toddler, arms looped protectively around her. The flickering light from the screen caught on his lashes and jawline.

Your stomach twisted. Not sharply. Just a soft, odd pull, warm and aching all at once.

He looked good like this. You had such a weak spot for kids and seeing him holding her like that just did something to you.

You ducked your head, trying to focus on your book again. But somehow, your hands wandered. You scrolled past your current novel and opened a medical textbook.

Prenatal Cardiac Anomalies: A Diagnostic Overview.

Somehow the thought of continuing reading through your textbook felt easier than reading a romance novel right now.  ──────────────────────── You were tired.

God, you were tired.

But your brain… your brain was still ticking. It didn’t matter how warm the blanket was, how silent the house had gone once everyone scattered to bed. It didn’t matter that Sunghoon was across the room, already passed out, snoring softly into his pillow.

Your eyes stayed open.

You lay there staring at the ceiling for ten minutes. Then twenty. Then maybe thirty. And still, your thoughts didn’t quiet down. 

So you slipped out of bed and crept down the stairs to curl up in the armchair in the wintergarden. You told yourself you’d just review a bit more.

Just enough to stop your brain from chewing itself alive.

But ten minutes in, you were still reading the same sentence.

Something about estrogen receptor profiles.

It might as well have been written in Greek. You read it. Then reread it. Then again. 

Your fingers clenched around the edges of your iPad, frustration was simmering somewhere between your sternum and your throat. You knew this topic. You’d studied it three times already. Why wasn’t it sticking? Why did your eyes feel too dry, your brain too foggy and your heart too tight all at once?

You didn’t even hear his footsteps until a voice broke through your haze.

“Y/N?”

You flinched so hard you nearly dropped the iPad.

“Jesus,” you gasped, clutching your chest. “What the fuck, Sunghoon.”

He stepped inside, hoodie tugged over his hair, barefoot. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You gave him a look and pouted. “Maybe don't sneak on at me then.”

“Sorry,” he said, coming closer to peer onto the glowing screen. “You coming back to bed?”

You shook your head quickly. “I’m fine. I just…couldn’t sleep.”

He looked at you, brow furrowed gently. “So you decided to study?”

“I had to,” you mumbled. “I didn’t finish everything I wanted to finish today.”

“You studied like 4 hours in that cafe today, Y/N.”

“I know, but I am still behind on my plan, since I didn't do enough yesterday.”

He didn’t say anything to that just let himself sink down on the chair opposite to yours, watching you. 

You tried to go back to the flashcards, but your fingers were trembling slightly now. You felt stupid. Weak. Like no amount of time would ever be enough to catch up. Like your worth was balancing on how much you crammed into your already overflowing brain. You did study for hours today, but it felt like nothing stuck. Everything you revised was gone.

“You do this often?” he asked after a while, voice quieter.

You hesitated. “Sometimes.”

“Do you always study when you can’t sleep?”

“Not always,” you murmured. “Sometimes I just… go to Jaemin’s room. Or he comes to mine. It helps. Being around someone. You know.”

He nodded slowly, eyes soft. “I get that.”

There was a long pause.

Then, wordlessly, he leaned forward and gently pulled the iPad from your hand. Your fingers twitched, but you didn’t stop him.

“You’re done for today,” he said.

“Sunghoon–”

“You’re done,” he repeated. “Come on.”

You blinked at him, heart thudding. “But I haven’t finished–”

“I know you haven’t.” His voice stayed calm. “But you look like you’re about to cry and that’s when it stops being useful.”

You stared at him for a second longer. Then finally, with a tiny exhale, you let him take your hand and pull you up. He was right, this was just a waste of time at this point. 

Neither of you said anything as you padded through the hallway together. He didn’t say a word as you crawled back into your bed and turned to face the wall and finally let your eyes close.

But you knew he was still awake, laying in the bed across from you. You heard him shifting across the room, rustling his blanket in the process.

After a few moments he softly said your name. 

“Y/N?” 

He moved again and his bed creaked. “Would it help… if we shared one bed?”

You blinked against the darkness of the room but didn’t answer him.  ──────────────────────── You came down later than usual the next morning.

The floorboards creaked under your socks as you descended the stairs, the scent of toasted bread and instant coffee already filling the air. 

When you turned the corner, Sunghoon was sitting at the table, a bowl of cereal in front of him. His hair was slightly damp and unstyled and he looked just as tired as you felt. His laptop was in front of him, the light reflecting in his glasses and he was frowning at the screen. 

“Morning,” Jake offered cheerfully, mouth half-full of toast.

You smiled faintly at him, tearing your gaze away from Sunghoon's figure. He shouldn’t be working right now, he was on vacation. “Morning.”

You moved around the kitchen on autopilot, pouring yourself a cup of coffee and grabbing a plate. 

You sat down diagonally across from Sunghoon, not quite opposite, since you knew he didn’t like it when drinks stood behind his laptop. He didn’t look at you, but his foot nudged the table leg once, just enough to make the water in your glass ripple slightly and you look up. He smiled and winked at you. You just rolled your eyes and went back to your slice of toast.

Maybe you should have just said yes yesterday. You knew he didn’t sleep until he was sure you’ve fallen asleep, he never did. He was always too afraid that you would go back to studying if he slept before you did. You did your best and fell asleep shortly after laying down, your body was apparently exhausted enough to just sleep and overpower your ever running brain in the comfort of knowing someone, of knowing Sunghoon, was there.  ──────────────────────── The small market Yunjin made you go to was filled with noise and way too many people. 

The air was sticky and warm in the alleyway the market was located in, thick with the scent of frying oil and sweet batter, fresh fruit and grilled meat. You weaved your way past a stall selling steamed buns, following your friends. They were trying to  find the small samgyeopsal restaurant Ningning found on Naver yesterday. You slowed down a bit to ask Sunghoon if he would like to get some tangerines for his mom. She loved tangerines, especially those from the South of the country, claiming they taste sweeter and better. Whenever you were on trips, Sunghoon and you always brought some for her. You stopped walking when you realized he wasn't behind you anymore, and turned around to scan over the crowd of people. He was a few meters behind you, by the fish tanks, big plastic tubs filled with live octopus and silver fish darting through shallow water.

Sunghoon stood just behind the crowd, Haneul slumped against his shoulder, pacifier in her mouth, red-eyed and sniffly.

She must’ve cried recently, her face was blotchy and her nose was slightly runny. It was pressed against Sunghoon's shoulder, little hands fisted in the back of his shirt. His free hand was gently supporting her back, rocking her ever so slightly as they watched the fish dart around in the shallow water. 

You frowned. Haneul had been off all morning, a bit clingier, a bit paler, her usual chatter reduced to sleepy murmurs. The market noise and heat couldn’t have been helping.

“She didn’t want to be set down,” he said when you approached, his voice quiet. “She started crying again when I tried. We even had to get out her pacifier," he grumbled, seemingly unhappy about that fact.

You stepped closer and softly reached out to stroke her cheek with the back of your finger. “Oh no, Haneulie. Don’t cry, pretty girl,” you murmured.

The toddler blinked at you, her lower lip wobbling around the pink piece of plastic in her mouth.

You turned to Sunghoon. “Do you think she’d be okay with a little sugar?”

He glanced down at Haneul, then up at you. “Sure. I’m not her dad. Why would I say no to sugar? We will just give her back to Jay if she has a sugar high.”

You laughed under your breath. “Good point. I'll be back in a second. Don't move.”

With that, you turned on your heel and started weaving through the crowd again, dodging a group of elderly women with shopping trolleys to reach the fried snack stall. You came back with three twisted dough sticks wrapped in parchment, still warm in your hands.

"Here," you said already in motion to hand Sunghoon one of the kwwaebggis, when you realized he had his hands full of a toddler, "I thought you'd like one aswell."

"Thank you, Y/N", he said and tried to lower Haneul to the ground. She made an unhappy noise and strengthened her grip on Sunghoon's Shirt.

He paused mid-motion. “Okay, okay, I got you,” he murmured, adjusting her on his hip again. “No setting you down today.”

Her head dropped against his shoulder with an exaggerated sigh through her pacifier.

“She’s really attached to you, huh?” you asked, watching them both with an amused smile as you tore off a piece of the warm kwabaegi.

Sunghoon gave a helpless little shrug. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this loyalty, but I’m too scared to test it.”

You laughed softly and stepped a bit closer to the two of them. “Look what I got you,” you said softly, holding out a piece of the kwabaegi to the toddler.

She looked at it and shook her head, burying it more in Sunghoon's shoulder.

"Would you like to give me your pacifier to try? I promise it's very yummy, Haneul.", you said, offering the piece again, but she pushed it away with her tiny palm.

You ate the piece to demonstrate to her that it really is yummy. "Mhm. I really like kwabaegi, Haneul. Uncle Sunghoon does too."

He nodded and adjusted her in his arms. "You should really try one, baby. I am sure you'll feel better afterwards."

She just whined a ‘no’ again.

“Look, Haneul-ah,” you cooed, exaggerating your tone, ripping a piece of kwabaegi off and making an airplane motion towards Sunghoons mouth. “Uncle Hoonie says this is soooo yummy. Right, Uncle?”

Sunghoon’s eyes widened for a beat before he caught on. “Oh, yes. Delicious.” He leaned forward slightly and opened his mouth like a child, eyes wide and dramatic. “Mmm! So yummy!” he moaned, chewing the tiny piece you gave him like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. 

You snorted and ate a piece as well. “See? ”

Then you held out a small piece toward Haneul, who’d lifted her head just a little, eyes watching closely.

“Wanna try, baby?” you asked softly.

She hesitated… then grabbed her pacifier, let it fall to her shirt and opened her mouth.

You placed the kwabaegi gently on her tongue, and she blinked, chewed slowly and then reached for another piece from your hand, a clear sign of approval.

Sunghoon chuckled. “I see how it is. You trust Y/N, but not me.”

“She just knows I am the cooler one between the two of us,” you replied sweetly.

“Thats unfair and a lie. I did the dramatic chewing and everything!”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face as you broke off another bit and handed it to her. Haneul leaned forward eagerly this time, her little fingers brushing yours as she took it.

You fished a small pack of tissues out of your bag and started gently wiping the powdered sugar from the corner of Haneul’s mouth, when the three of you finished your twists. Then you handed Sunghoon the tissue while reaching for her water bottle.

“Here, have a sip,” you said, coaxing the toddler into taking a few careful gulps. She wriggled on his hip but didn’t protest much. She was already visibly more content, cheeks flushed from the heat and her earlier tears, but she was neither pouting nor asking for her pacifier so you took that as a win.

Sunghoon stood still, holding the pack of tissues in one hand and watching you quietly.

You glanced up and caught him staring.

“What?” you asked, a teasing lilt in your voice as you dabbed Haneul’s sticky fingers.

He blinked, then immediately looked away, letting out a small laugh, the awkward kind he did when he was trying to downplay something.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, taking a step back only to bump into a lady browsing dried squid behind him.

“Ah, sorry!” he murmured, half-bowing in apology, before shuffling back toward you with a sheepish wince.

You raised a brow. “Sunghoon. What was that?”

“Nothing,” he repeated, but his ears were turning red.

You didn’t drop it. “Seriously. What?”

He hesitated, then gave a tiny shrug, eyes darting to the toddler in his arms and back to you.

“It’s just… I don’t know.” His voice dipped lower. “That was really cute. You, with her.”

You blinked.

He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, clearly regretting saying it out loud. “I mean…seeing you with kids. Your whole face just lights up. It’s…yeah. That.”

For a moment, all the noise of the market faded.

You swallowed, caught off guard by the softness of his tone, by how gently he was looking at you now.

You cleared your throat, quickly turning back to fish another tissue out of your bag, trying not to read too much into what he just said.

“Well, good thing I’m not completely useless,” you said, half under your breath.

Sunghoon smiled at that and Haneul reached forward again, tugging on your sleeve.

“Aunt Y/N… carry me?” she asked softly, rubbing her cheek against Sunghoon’s shirt.

You blinked, momentarily stunned. “Me?” you asked gently. “Oh sweetheart, I’m not nearly as strong as your uncle. I think he’s better for the job.”

Haneul frowned in protest, her bottom lip wobbling.

“But,” you added quickly, holding out your hand, “I can hold your hand while Uncle Honnie carries you, if that’s okay with you.”

She sniffled once, then nodded solemnly, her tiny fingers curling around yours.

You nodded and smiled at Haneul, who slumped back down onto Sunghoon's shoulder, again, her hand clasped in yours between you.

And when you glanced up, Sunghoon was already looking at you.

Not at the toddler, not at the path ahead. At you.

With a look so full of fondness it nearly knocked the breath from your chest.

You knew that expression. It was the same one he used to wear during study sessions in your kitchen. When you were half-asleep in your shared bed in the morning. When you’d laugh too hard at something dumb and he’d just… stare. Quietly. 

Your stomach flipped, and you looked away with a soft smile

Together, with Haneul nestled between you, the three of you made your way back toward the group. And for just a second, your brain jumped to a version of you and Sunghoon where you weren’t carrying your friend's daughter, but your own.  ──────────────────────── By the time you got back to the house, everyone was exhausted from hiking all day.

Haneul had refused to let go of either of you since the market. She clung to Sunghoon during the cable car ride, her tiny fingers twisted into his jacket. And when the buggy proved too slow and bumpy, she’d whined until you picked her up, only to eventually find her way right back into Sunghoon’s arms, where she dozed off on his chest for most of the walk back from the skywalk.

Now, sprawled out across the largest sofa, she lay curled into Sunghoon’s chest, half-asleep again, one small hand still gripping yours with determined force. Her hair was mussed, her cheeks pink from the sun, and her other fist clutched the sleeve of Sunghoon’s hoodie like a lifeline.

The rest of the group had put on Knowing Bros, half-watching while chatting quietly, half-dozing through the comfortable hum of the evening.

A heavy weight pressed into your side suddenly and you heard Heeseung grunt, while he tried to get comfortable in the small space between you and Ningning.

“Heeseung,” you groaned, cracking one eye open as you felt your entire side get squashed into the person on your right.

"Just continue sleeping Y/N. I'll just get comfortable here," he mumbled curling around his fiance and stealing part of your blanket you were sharing with her.

“You're stealing my space and my blanket,” you muttered, elbowing Heeseung without much force. There was nowhere to go, except closer to Sunghoon, who didn’t seem to mind when you shifted closer, pressed shoulder to shoulder now.

He didn’t say anything, just adjusted the blanket around Haneul’s little body to cover you as well and let her keep dozing on his chest.

The movie played on, and you decided you’d just keep your eyes closed. Not asleep, just letting yourself rest. You didn't want to fall asleep and miss out. You loved being with your friends, you loved how clingy Haneul was to 'Aunt Y/N' so you were simply resting your eyes a bit.

“Wow,” Jake muttered, grinning. “You two stole Jay’s kid and just… went straight back to being disgusting. Feels like high school all over again.”

Sunghoon huffed, not annoyed, but not amused either. His voice was low, careful. “Can we not do this right now? She’s finally sleeping.”

Jay chuckled. “She didn't get enough Coke Zero today.”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon said. You could feel him shift, tucking the blanket tighter around you both. “She isn't sleeping at night. She comes up with us and gets ready and then an hour later goes downstairs to study. I had to talk her into going back to bed yesterday.”

There was a small pause, the only sound in the room coming from the TV.

Jake softly asked: “Is she okay?”

“I mean, yeah,” Sunghoon said. “She says she’s fine.”

“You don’t believe her?”

“I didn’t say that,” he muttered. “It’s just… She’s tired.” “She’s always tired,” Yunjin said gently. “That’s what happens when you work twelve-hour shifts and study during breaks.” “No one would be surprised if she was burned out,” Heeseung added. “Honestly, with the way she pushes herself? She hasn’t slowed down in years.” There was a beat of silence. Then Yunjin spoke again, her voice tinged with guilt: “I kind of hoped this trip would be a break for her. Some actual rest. Not… cramming after we all pass out.”

Your fingers curled slightly under the blanket. You hadn’t meant for them to know. You were just trying. Trying to stay on track. Trying to not fall behind. Trying to not lose the rhythm you’d worked so hard to keep. Sunghoon’s voice was quiet now, something resigned in it. “She just doesn’t know how to stop. She never has." Ningning shifted beside you and whispered, “She’s gonna be okay, right?” Sunghoon exhaled. “She’s Y/N. She’ll keep going. Even when she shouldn’t.” You wished you could say something. Reassure them. Reassure yourself. But instead, you curled slightly closer and let yourself feel what you usually didn���t have time to: the ache of being known and the comfort of being loved, even if it was from behind closed eyes. ──────────────────────── It was past midnight again, and the house had long since gone quiet. The others had woken you up when they got ready for bed and you followed them upstairs, bruising your teeth, washing your face and curling into your bed, trying to fall asleep again. 

But sleep just wouldn’t come. 

You hadn’t reviewed any of your material today. Not even one section. Not one concept. You should’ve done more.

You needed to do more.

The exam wasn’t going to wait for you to stop being tired. You knew that.

So when Sunghoon's soft snores filled the silence in your bedroom, you silently removed the thick blanket of your body and crept out of the room, hoping he would stay asleep tonight. You felt incredibly guilty for worrying them all, but there was nothing you could do, nothing would help quiet down your head but finishing what you had on your study planner for today.

The soft creaks of the old wood under your feet were the only sounds as you tiptoed downstairs.

You settled on the stairs between the living room and the winter garden, legs tucked beneath you. 

You weren’t reading anything. Not really. Just staring at the same sentence for the fourth time, not even blinking. 

The door creaked open and you flinched slightly.

You didn’t look up until he dropped beside you on the stairs, a water bottle in one hand, his sweatshirt pulled on backwards.

“I thought you were asleep,” you said quietly.

“I was,” he replied, voice even quieter. “Until I wasn’t.”

You both sat in silence for a minute.

Then, finally, he asked, “Do you know why this keeps happening?”

You stared at your cards, thumb brushing one edge again and again. “I can’t shut it off. My brain. It just… keeps going.”

He just nodded slowly, indicating he was listening, so you kept going.

“After we broke up,” you said, your voice low, hesitant, “I was at the hospital.”

He blinked. “Yeah, I know. You worked there even before we broke up.”

“No,” you said. “Not as an employee. I was in the ER. I fainted during my shift. They diagnosed me with burnout.”

His head turned toward you sharply. “You what?”

“In the middle of rounds,” you said softly. “One second I was standing, next thing I know, I was in a hospital bed with an IV. They said it was burnout.”

“Jesus, Y/N…” he whispered.

You gave a small, humorless smile. “I think I knew it was coming. I just didn’t want to admit it.”

His brows furrowed, his jaw tense.

“It wasn’t just the job,” you continued staring outside. “It was the exams, the night shifts, the pressure, that one asshole attending who made my life hell and still trying to be a good girlfriend and friend. Going on dates, and meeting up with the others.”

You drew a shaky breath. “And then… Minhee.”

His head turned at you but you shook your head, not wanting to look at him. 

“That night…” you said slowly. “I think that broke something in me. I’ve never lost anyone before. Not like that. I mean I’ve lost patients yeah. But no one I knew personally. And then suddenly I was holding her hand while her heart stopped. Watching my colleagues trying to save Hanuel's life while her mother was dying right there.”

He closed his eyes.

You nodded. “I think everything that had been stacking up just… collapsed after that. I checked out. I barely remember the two months after.”

He opened his eyes and looked at you, raw and unguarded. “I am so sorry Y/N.”

You didn’t mean to say it, not really, but your voice came out anyway, small and rough.

“I just would’ve needed you back then.”

Sunghoon didn’t move.

You swallowed hard. “Not to fix anything. Not even to do much. Just… a little understanding. I wasn’t avoiding you because I didn’t care. I was drowning. Studying felt like survival, and everything else, dates, trips, even replying to texts, it felt like walking barefoot through fire.”

His voice was barely above a whisper. “Why didn't you tell me, Y/N?”

“I didn't know how to,” you said. “You were as close to burning out as I was. We barely even saw each other, and if we did, every conversation we had was around school or my residency or we fought.”

You felt him watching you. 

“I’ve never stopped worrying about you,” he said eventually, voice thick. “Not once since we broke up. We’ve known each other since kindergarten, Y/N. I thought I knew you better than anyone.”

“You did, probably still do.”

“I didn’t know you were collapsing at work,” he said. “I didn’t know you were–fuck, I didn’t help. I kept pushing you to spend time with me when you clearly weren’t doing okay, and I didn’t even see it.”

“Sunghoon.” You finally turned to him. “You were going through the same thing. You were studying for your bar exam. Your internship. Your parents were on your ass about everything. You weren’t supposed to fix me.”

“I still feel like I should’ve seen it,” he murmured.

You exhaled slowly, your head tipping just enough to rest against his shoulder.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you said. “It wasn’t mine either. It just… happened. Life just happened.”

There was a long pause until he broke the silence.

“I’m sorry.”

You didn’t lift your head. You just waited, breath held tight in your chest.

“I missed you so much,” he said, his voice wavering a bit. “And I hated myself for how things ended. For how I let it get to the point where we couldn’t even talk without hurting each other.”

Your throat tightened.

“I knew you weren’t okay. Not really,” he went on, a little steadier now. “And then…then you just… disappeared. Cut everyone off like we were part of the problem. And maybe we were.” He huffed out a short breath. “I asked my mom about you a few times. But I stopped. I didn’t want to get her hopes up, you know how she is. She would’ve started preparing wedding invitations.”

You let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sigh.

He didn’t laugh.

“I just didn’t want to believe we’d gone from everything to nothing. But I didn’t know how to reach you without making it worse. So I stayed away.”

You shifted just slightly, your hand brushing his.

“I missed you too.”

You were quiet once more, letting the sound of rain falling against the windows of the wintergarden fill the silence.

After a few minutes you spoke again.

"I think it's happening again," you said quietly, staring straight ahead. “Me burning out.”

Sunghoon hummed lightly, just enough to tell you he was listening.

You closed your eyes. “My last shift, it was NICU. We lost two babies. Two. I had to tell the parents. And I fucking hate that part. You never get used to it. How could I? Their whole world just…” You exhaled sharply. “It’s gone. And they look at you like you’re supposed to make it make sense.”

His hand found yours and he intervened your fingers, softly squeezing them.

“I love this job,” you went on, voice thinner now. “Or I used to think I did. I love the science, the surgeries, the rush of helping someone survive something impossible. But lately… I don’t know. I feel like I’m barely surviving. Like I’m pretending really hard every day. And no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough.”

A beat passed. Two.

Then you softly continued: “I think I just needed you back then. Even just a little. You didn’t have to fix anything. I just–” your voice caught. “I just needed someone to say I wasn’t crazy for feeling like I was drowning. That I was still me, even when I wasn’t holding it all together. Jaemin does that now. I think it's because he understands the situation I am in the best. He and his boyfriend are struggling a lot at the moment too. Will probably until we had our exam. We're selling our body and soul to work and the bar exam.”

Sunghoon didn’t speak right away. You could hear the sound of him swallowing.

“You should’ve told me,” he said eventually. “Even now. You shouldn’t be carrying this alone. I am glad you're telling Jaemin how you're feeling.”

“I didn’t want to be a burden.”

“You never were.” He turned his head toward you then, and your gazes met. “Y/N, you were right, we were both breaking back then. I think I was too scared to admit I was burning out and the fact that you weren't saying anything about overworking myself annoyed me. I saw my friends' girlfriends being attentive and making them go out on dates to distract them. I knew you were stressed, I knew it. And I was still pissed you wouldn't look after mw, when I should have probably done that for you, and should have tried fixing our relationship.”

That admission cracked something in you.

You shifted slightly, resting your forehead gently against his shoulder, your voice barely audible now. “I didn’t need you to fix anything. I'm sorry I couldn't be a good girlfriend at the time. I just–I just needed you to stay.

“I’m here now,” he murmured, squeezing your fingers again.  You nodded against him. For the first time in years, you actually felt like crying. Your eyes burned, and you blinked aggressively, to stop your tears from falling. You weren’t going to cry. You couldn’t cry. Not again. You were over this, over him. Or at least you liked to pretend you were. But before you could even swallow it back, you heard it, the softest of inhales, the quietest shift in posture. You looked up.

Sunghoon had tears in his eyes. Your breath caught. Not because you didn’t think he’d care–you knew he did. But seeing it… seeing him like that, cracked something clean in your chest. You hit him lightly on the arm, voice a little hoarse. “You crybaby.” His mouth twitched. “Me? Look at you, Y/N. You’ve got, like, two tears in your eyes, while I only have one. ” You let out a half-laugh, wiping your face with your sleeve. “You’re such an idiot.” He smiled. The tension eased, just slightly, and he tilted his head toward the house. “Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s go back inside. Just lie down for a bit. Fifteen minutes, max. If it doesn’t work, you can go back to your flashcards or your mad scientist scribbles or whatever the hell it is you’re doing.”

You gave him a look. “I mean it,” he said, soft but firm. “Just try.” You hesitated. Then nodded. And let him lead the way. You let him pull you back toward the bedroom without protest this time. The cool night air clung to your skin. Your fingers brushed as you walked up the stairs, but neither of you said anything. Inside, the room was dim and still smelled like him, laundry detergent, something clean and woodsy, and a faint trace of his cologne. “Can you…”, you cleared your throat, “would it be okay for you if we slept in one bed?”

“Sure,” he nodded andpulled his blanket of his bed, waiting until you climbed into yours. When he settled beside you, it felt… natural. Not easy, not uncomplicated, but familiar in a way your body remembered even if your mind wasn’t sure how to handle it. You shifted closer, letting your head come to rest on his chest. His arm moved around you instinctively, pulling you in just enough. But under your cheek, you could feel his heartbeat, quick and uneven, a little too fast.

You blinked against his shirt. “Your heart’s racing.” There was a pause, then a small, sheepish laugh. “I’m a little nervous, okay?” You lifted your head slightly to look at him. “I’m in bed with my ex,” he added, grinning softly. “That’s a first. Cut me some slack.” You rolled your eyes and smacked his stomach lightly. “You’re so annoying.” He chuckled low in his throat, the sound rumbling under your cheek. “And yet you still chose my bed.”

“Shut up, Park Sunghoon.” “Alright, alright.” He held up his free hand in mock surrender, then shifted again, settling more comfortably. You closed your eyes again, letting the silence wash over you. You weren’t sure when his fingers started moving again. At first, you barely noticed it. Just the faintest drag of skin on skin, slow, barely-there motions on your back where your shirt had ridden up slightly. You stayed still, breathing shallow and quiet. But then he began tracing shapes. Letters. You tensed slightly.

A straight line… a curve… another curve…

“H.” Your brows knit together in the dark. He was spelling something. “I.” You bit the inside of your cheek. It took all your focus not to turn your head and answer. “S-T-I-L-L.” Still. He paused for a second. You weren’t sure if he thought you’d fallen asleep or if he just needed a breath.

Then more. “H-E-R-E.” Still here. “A-L-W-A-Y-S” You closed your eyes. Squeezing them shut to stop them from watering again. He kept going, slower now. His fingers drifted over your spine, across your shoulder blade, gentle and soft. He traced small hearts once. A spiral. A star. A shaky infinity sign that made your lips twitch the tiniest bit. Your heart pulled in two directions, overwhelmed by how tender it was, and aching because it had ever stopped being normal. You didn’t remember falling asleep. Only that somewhere between the letter R and the little loop he drew beneath your ribs, your mind finally, finally, shut up.

And this time, sleep came easily. ──────────────────────── When you woke up the next morning you were alone in bed. Sunghoon's side was still warm, so you assumed he just got out of bed a few minutes before you. You yawned and stretched yourself before making your way to the bathroom and then downstairs, where you found Jay and Sunghoon on the sofa, Hanuel curled onto Jay's chest watching bluey.  "Good morning.", you said, letting yourself fall onto the sofa next to Jay.  "Good morning Y/N."Jay greeted gently combing through his daughter's black hair. 

Her face was flushed. "Is Haneul okay?", you asked and reached out to put a hand on the toddler's forehead. "She is a bit warm, isn't she." "Yeah she got sick.", Jay mumbled looking down at her with a worried facial expression. “She woke us up twice tonight. Seol spent half of the night down here, reading and watching TV. She is sleeping upstairs now.” “Mhm,” you said touching your and Jay's forehead, “she definitely has a mild fever. Did you bring any medication? I don’t have child approved medication on me, but I could go down to the farmacy?” “Oh. No no, don’t worry about that. I’ll go down by myself when she wakes up again. I just don’t want her to wake up right now, she has just fallen asleep.” “Ah Jay. It’s not a problem. Imma get Haneul the good stuff and she will be up and about in no time.”, you said, lifting yourself from the sofa. “Are the others still sleeping?” “Yunjin and Tae are on a sunset hike and Hee and Ningning are probably still sleeping. Jake and Hyerim are doing god knows what.”, Sunghoon answered, lifting himself enough to look into your eyes. “Do you want me to come along?”

“No it’s fine, Sunghoon. Just continue being a pillow. I know my way around medications.”, you smiled at him and walked back upstairs. ──────────────────────── When you came back from the pharmacy, almost everyone was flopping around in the living room. A rerun of Hotel De Luna was running on the TV, while the others were spread across the living room. Yunjin had returned from her hike and was now tucked into a beanbag with Tae sharing her blanket, both sipping warm drinks. Ningning was sprawled across Heeseung’s lap, sleeping in a seemingly very uncomfortable position. Jake and Hyerim were talking to themselves. The only person who looked truly awake was Sunghoon, who sat in the corner of the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him, hair still slightly tousled. He looked relaxed, almost peaceful. You walked in quietly, the door clicking shut behind you. He turned toward the sound instinctively, eyes softening when they landed on you. “Mission successful?” he asked. You lifted the paper bag triumphantly. “She’ll be back to bossing us around in no time.”

A few of the others hummed in acknowledgment, but most were too absorbed in the episode or their own tired haze to respond. A few minutes later, you crossed the room and dropped into the open space beside Sunghoon with a dramatic sigh. You were holding your Kindle in one hand and tugging the edge of the blanket with the other. He didn’t say anything, just shifted slightly. You nestled into the sofa, tucking your legs up and leaning into his warmth. His hand rested loosely around your shoulder.  You didn’t say anything, either. Just opened your Kindle and flipped through a few pages of a medical casebook, pretending to read. Truthfully, your attention was split, maybe 30% on the text, and the rest on the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way your body fit so easily against his again, the quiet intimacy that still lingered despite everything unspoken. You probably should really speak about what was happening right now, how you just shared a bed for the night, how you almost automatically curled back into him here on the sofa.  He shifted once to help you get more comfortable, tugging the blanket up slightly over your legs. Somewhere in the background, IU’s voice echoed through the room, wistful and distant. ──────────────────────── You were half-curled into Sunghoon’s side, Kindle balanced against your thigh, when soft footsteps padded down the stairs. Everyone turned instinctively. Jay was holding a sleepy but clearly stubborn Haneul in his arms. Her hair was flattened to one side, and her cheeks were still flushed, but her eyes lit up as she spotted you across the room. “Oh no,” Jay said dryly. “She saw her targets.” You smiled and waved. “Hey, baby.”

Haneul wriggled immediately, demanding to be put down, and tottered toward the couch with single-minded purpose. You shifted to make space between yourself and Sunghoon, assuming she’d collapse into his lap. But she didn’t. Instead, she reached for you, tugging at your arm with surprising insistence. “Auntie.” You blinked. “Me?” Haneul nodded seriously. “Wanna sit with you.” “Oh,” you said, glancing briefly at Jay, then Sunghoon, who just shrugged. “Okay, come here then.” You lifted her gently into your lap, wrapping the blanket around the two of you as she cuddled in, her body still warm with fever. She exhaled with a small sigh and pressed her cheek to your chest, thumb slipping into her mouth. A few seconds passed before she spoke again. “Read me something.” You laughed softly. “I don’t have any kids books, sweetheart.” “I’ll get one,” Sunghoon said, already pushing to his feet. He disappeared toward the hallway bookshelf and returned a minute later with a battered picture book in one hand and his laptop under his arm.

You adjusted Haneul against your chest and cracked the book open. The toddler watched intently as you began to read in a soft, lilting voice. Sunghoon flipped open his laptop beside you, fingers flying over the keyboard. His brows were furrowed in concentration. You glanced at him once between pages, catching the faint crease between his brows as he focused on whatever email or report had stolen his attention. You weren’t sure if he was even hearing you read, but every time Haneul pointed at a picture or giggled at a silly voice you made, his mouth twitched upward. Your voice stayed low, barely above a whisper. You were careful not to disturb the others scattered across the room. The rain hadn’t stopped outside. It clung to the windows, soft and persistent, like background music. And as you sat there, Haneul tucked into your chest, Sunghoon typing beside you, the slow unfolding of a quiet day, you felt something strange settle into your chest.

A deep, aching kind of comfort. The kind that made you wish time could slow down just a little more. ──────────────────────── Haneul had dozed off again halfway through the story, one tiny hand still clutching your shirt. You eased the book shut, careful not to jostle her, and glanced sideways just in time to see Sunghoon exhale sharply and throw his head back against the backrest. He looked tense. His jaw clenched, one hand still hovering over the keyboard as if he couldn’t quite let go of whatever he’d been typing. His laptop remained open, screen glowing faintly in his lap. “You okay?” you asked quietly. He didn’t answer right away, just ran a hand through his hair, eyes fluttering shut for a second before opening again. “I want to commit murder,” he said flatly. You blinked. “That’s a strong reaction for a children’s book.” He huffed a mirthless laugh, rubbing at his temple. “No, the client I’m dealing with. Complete nightmare. I’m technically marked as absent and yet they’ve decided today is the perfect day to need everything from me. Everything. Like the rest of my team just collectively forgot how to think without me.”

You frowned. “Wait, they’re contacting you now? I thought you weren’t on call?” “I’m not,” he said, voice tight. “But apparently my senior colleagues are allergic to solving things on their own. And this client–” he cut himself off, then muttered under his breath, “not even a fucking day of peace.” You raised a brow at the rare slip in language. “Sunghoon.” “I know,” he said, eyes flicking over to you with a faint grimace. “Sorry. I just–I really needed this trip. I wanted to turn everything off and just breathe, you know? But now I’ve spent the last hour writing emails.” You reached out with your free hand, pressing your fingers lightly to the back of his arm in silent reassurance “I get it,” you murmured. “Really. And… for the record? You’re allowed to be mad. You work harder than half the people I know.” He shook his head slightly, lips curving into something tired. “Coming from you, that’s saying something.” You smiled faintly and leaned back against the cushions, careful not to disturb the sleeping toddler. ──────────────────────── The house had settled into that kind of stillness only rain could bring. Outside, water tapped gently against the windows, and inside, nearly everyone had retreated to their rooms or dozed off somewhere across the couch-filled landscape of the winter garden and living room. The only sounds left were the occasional creak of the old roof beams and the faint hum of Bluey reruns still playing on loop. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

But between the warmth of the blanket, Haneul’s little body curled into your chest, and the rhythmic clacking of Sunghoon’s keyboard across from you, your eyes had fluttered shut. The last thing you remembered was thinking I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute. When you woke again, the light had shifted, softer now, dimmer. Late afternoon. Your head felt heavy against the sofa cushion, and Haneul was still curled into your front, snuffling quietly in her sleep. You didn’t move yet, not wanting to disturb her. Sunghoon was still there. Still working. Still typing. He looked up the moment your breathing changed, gaze softening as it landed on you. “Hey,” he said, voice quiet. “You’re awake.” You blinked at him, still halfway between dream and reality.

He leaned forward and, with gentle fingers, brushed a loose strand of hair away from your cheek. The touch was fleeting but warm, and it made your chest ache in that familiar way. “You should go back to sleep,” he murmured. You made a low noise in your throat, the closest thing to a protest you could muster. “No. I gotta… study. A little.” He clicked his tongue in disapproval, leaning back into his corner of the sofa again. “You’re impossible.” You cracked one eye open. “You’re working too, Park. Don’t throw stones from your glass house.” That earned a small, reluctant laugh from him. “Touché. Without moving too much, careful not to jostle Haneul, you reached to your side and grabbed your iPad, placing it on the throw pillow next to you. Your thumb opened your note app with practiced ease, screen glowing softly in the dim room. You balanced it on your knee and leaned your chin against the top of Haneul’s head.

Sunghoon didn’t say anything more. Just returned to his laptop, fingers dancing across the keys, the occasional sigh slipping through his nose.

Hours later you sat curled in the corner of the bench, legs tucked beneath you and the blanket pulled tight around your shoulders. The rain beat gently against the windows of the winter garden, the soft patter rhythmic and constant. You weren’t sure how long you’d been out there, long enough for your tea to go cold and your thoughts to grow heavy. So much of your life has been made up of early mornings, late nights, bright lights, white coats, cold coffee. And now, watching your friends build lives around you, with children, with partners, with memories you weren’t part of, you wondered if you had ever truly lived at all. Or if you just... worked. You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, knees tucked to your chest, trying to chase away the cold that wasn’t really from the rain. You hadn’t meant to think about the what-ifs again, but somehow, watching Sunghoon be so soft with you and Haneul all day, made you feel nostalgic for something you never had. He would’ve been a good dad. A quiet shuffle of feet behind you made you blink. You didn’t have to look. You knew it was him.

Sunghoon sat beside you, close enough for your shoulders to brush. The bench shifted under his weight. “Penny for a thought?” he asked gently. You didn’t answer at first. Just stared out into the night. “I always thought we’d get married,” you said eventually, voice smaller than you meant it to be. “I thought we’d have a kid by now.” He didn’t answer for a long moment, just let his gaze follow yours into the wet dark beyond the glass.

“I know,” he said. “I thought that too.” You finally turned to look at him. His profile was shadowed, the dim lights of the living room catching in his lashes, in the soft fall of his hair. “I had a whole proposal planned,” he continued. “In Vietnam, you know that trip we were planning? I was gonna pretend we were just taking pictures at sunset, hand you the camera, and when you turned around… I’d be on one knee.” You let out a shaky breath. “That sounds like something you’d do.” “Cheesy?” “Yeah. I would have loved it.” He laughed under his breath. “I thought so.”

You were quiet for a long moment, then said, “I’m sorry.” He looked at you, brows drawing slightly together. “I’m sorry for putting work ahead of everything. For choosing my studies over us. For shutting you out.” You paused, breath catching in your chest. “I thought I could balance it all. But I couldn’t. And then I didn’t know how to tell you that without feeling like I was failing at everything.” His gaze softened. “Y/N…” Your throat tightened and you had to fight the tears already. “I never stopped being proud of you,” he said quietly. “Even after everything. Even when you disappeared on us. I admired the hell out of what you’re doing. You’re literally helping people survive. I could never do what you do.”

You shook your head. “You don’t understand. I’m not–” You swallowed. “Jay. I let Jay down. I let Minhee down.” He turned to face you more fully. “What?” Your fingers twisted into the edge of the blanket. “Minhee. She–” You exhaled shakily. “I know it wasn’t my fault, I know that rationally. But every time I see Haneul, all I can think is… maybe I did something wrong. Maybe if I had caught something earlier or said something–” “Y/N.”

“–or checked her labs again, or called the OB sooner–" “Y/N,” he said again, firmer this time, but not unkind. “You know it wasn’t your fault.” “I do,” you whispered. “But that doesn’t make it feel any less like it is.” He was quiet for a long moment. Then: “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because we had just broken up,” you said. “Like, just. And I didn’t want to burden you. You were trying to move on. And I felt like I was breaking into a thousand pieces. I kept telling myself I deserved it. That I couldn’t hold onto you and try to be this version of myself I thought I had to become. And you had to be there for Jay. His girlfriend just died and he had a newborn at home. And I couldn't bear being around him or her. I was too afraid he thought I was responsible, even if I wasn't.” “I would’ve dropped everything,” Sunghoon said, and his voice cracked slightly. “If I had known, I would’ve been there. No questions asked. Heeseung was there for Jay. Jake was too. His and Minhees parents. I could have been there for you.” You closed your eyes. “I wanted to call you. I did. A hundred times. But I thought… it would just make it worse.” He looked away, swiping a hand over his face. “I hate myself for not trying harder. For not asking. For just letting you go.” You exhaled slowly. “Do you think we would’ve made it?" He paused for a second. “Yeah,” he said. “If we’d had the time.”

Sunghoon was quiet for a moment again. Then he looked at you more fully, like he was trying to find the pieces of the girl you used to be underneath all the weight you carried now. “I never told you this,” he said softly, “but I used to love watching you dream. You were so sure about everything. Med school. Family. How you were going to do it all.” He paused. “Even when I didn’t believe in myself, I believed in you.” You closed your eyes, because if you didn’t you might really cry this time. “You know,” you whispered, “I feel like I’ve been running nonstop. And now that I’m here… I realize I haven’t really lived. I’ve just… worked.” He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. “I wanted to be with you,” you added, more quietly. “But I didn’t know how to let myself stop. Even now, the thought of having free time makes me anxious.”

He shifted slightly. “I think… we were both overwhelmed. I kept thinking it was just a phase. That we’d get through it.” “I should’ve fought harder for you.” “I should’ve known you needed help.” His hand found yours, slowly, uncertainly, but you didn’t pull away. Your fingers slid into his, warm and familiar. You turned toward him, your faces closer than they’d been in years. It would’ve been so easy. “We shouldn’t…” you began, voice trembling, uncertain. Sunghoon’s voice was low, steady, but there was a faint, familiar ache beneath it. “You remember when we weren’t supposed to kiss in your room? Back in high school?” Your breath caught.

You nodded, just barely. “We still did.” His lips quirked, but it wasn’t quite a smile. It was something softer. Sadder. Full of things unsaid. “Yeah. We still did.” His hand, warm and tentative, slid up your arm. A slow touch, like he was memorizing the shape of you all over again. Your skin tingled where his fingers passed, your breath tightening in your chest. There was a pause. A heartbeat. Then he leaned in.

You met him halfway. The first brush of his lips was featherlight. A ghost of contact. Barely there. You surged forward without thinking, lips slotting against his with years of yearning pressed into the space between you. His hand rose to your jaw, thumb grazing your cheekbone as he angled his head, deepening the kiss with.  His mouth was soft but certain, moving over yours like he already knew how you liked to be kissed, because he did. There was no rush, no hesitation, just heat blooming slow and deep between you as your hands found the front of his sweater, curling into the fabric, anchoring yourself to him. You shifted closer, your knees brushing his, blanket forgotten as your body tilted into his space. One of his hands cupped the back of your neck now, his fingers sliding into your hair, holding you steady as his other hand gripped your waist, grounding you. You made a quiet sound, when his teeth grazed your bottom lip. It had been so long. Too long. You’d forgotten how it felt to be wanted like this. To want like this. When you finally pulled away, your breathing was uneven, lips kiss-bitten and your heart in your throat.

You didn’t move far. Just far enough to rest your forehead against his, eyes closed, trying to gather yourself. “Sunghoon,” you breathed. It was all you could manage. His thumb brushed gently over your cheek. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to–” “Don’t apologize,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I wanted to.” He nodded slowly, his breath warm against your cheek. For a long, fragile moment, neither of you moved. Then you exhaled shakily and leaned into him, your cheek resting against his chest, listening to the quiet thump of his heart. His arms wrapped around you without hesitation, one circling your back, the other rubbing slow, grounding strokes up and down your spine. “Come to bed,” he said after a moment. 

Your gaze wandered to your Ipad again.  “Y/N,” Sunghoon said again, gently. “Come inside?” You shook your head against his chest. “I can’t.” There was a pause, long and quiet. “I think,” you continued slowly, carefully, “if I lie down now, I might actually go crazy. Just for a bit. I… need to be on my own.” Sunghoon didn’t speak right away.  “Are you sure?” he asked, low. You nodded. “Yeah. I’ll come in later.” He lingered for another beat before carefully pushing you off his chest, reaching for the blanket and draping it over your shoulders. “Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll leave the door open.” You managed a small smile, just enough to make him go.

The quiet that followed wasn’t peaceful. It was taut. Sharp. You felt like a wire pulled tight, humming with tension, unable to let go. You didn’t cry or move. You just sat there with your thoughts screaming and the rain falling and the cold slowly sinking in. Eventually, hours later, exhaustion became heavier than the noise in your chest. It didn’t quiet the buzzing under your skin, but it dulled it. You stood up slowly, stiff and aching, and crept back inside. The house was dark and still.  You padded past the living room and paused. Sunghoon. He was asleep on the couch, arms crossed, head tilted back awkwardly against the armrest. Your heart cracked a little.

You crossed the room carefully and crouched beside him, brushing your fingers lightly against his arm. “Sunghoon,” you whispered. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs.” He blinked awake groggily, frowning like a confused toddler. “Y/N? Are you done?" You nodded, though it was only half-true. “Yeah. For today. Come on, let’s go upstairs.” You rubbed your eyes as you climbed the stairs, limbs heavy, thoughts slow and grainy. Sunghoon followed silently behind you, both of you lit only by the soft hallway light someone had left on. The house creaked with wind and sleep. When you entered your shared room, you automatically turned toward your own bed, but before you even made it halfway, his hand caught your wrist. You glanced back at him. His hair was a mess, his sweater wrinkled from the couch, his eyes soft in the dim light. There was no question in them. Just quiet certainty. The same kind he always used to have when he knew exactly what you needed before you did. He didn’t say anything, but gently pulled you towards his bed. You didn’t even hesitate. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to crawl in beside him. His arms settled around you like they never forgot how to, one draped around your waist, the other tucked under his pillow. You rested your cheek against his chest, his warmth bleeding into your skin. His heartbeat was steady today, unrushed. ──────────────────────── Seoul greeted you with dull skies and even more rain. The drive back had been quiet. Peaceful. Haneul had napped for most of it. You rested too, half-asleep with your head against the window, the lull of the road and Sunghoon’s soft humming lulling you into a strange kind of calm.  The car slowed in front of your apartment. Jay helped unload your bag from the trunk while Sunghoon stood by, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, his hair still mussed from sleep. Haneul, finally awake again, reached for you as Jay hoisted her up and you kissed her cheek, brushing her fever-warmed curls from her forehead. “Text me if she gets worse,” you said softly, and Jay nodded. Sunghoon lingered behind as Jay buckled Haneul back in. He didn’t say much, just held your gaze for a second too long. “I’ll see you soon?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah. Soon.” There was so much more you wanted to say. But not here. Not now. You gave them both a small wave and turned toward the building. ──────────────────────── The elevator ride up felt longer than usual.  You dumped your bag, took a quick shower, and pulled your scrubs out of the drawer. It was already getting dark when you finished meal prepping for your nightshift. Seoul pulsed around you, busy and bright, and for once, you didn’t feel entirely swallowed by it.  A few hours later the fluorescent lights buzzed above you, sterile and far too bright. The ward was quiet tonight. You sat at the small desk near the nurses’ station, soft white light illuminating the open binder in front of you. The gynecology wing always had this strange hush at night, even with the occasional monitor beeping, and the distant hum of a cleaning machine.  You had just made your rounds, charted vitals, answered two sleepy buzzers, checked one incision site. Everything was fine. Calm. And yet, you felt like you might break. You blinked, slowly. Your limbs were heavy. Not because you were tired physically you were drained mentally. Your eyes wandered toward the window, where the sky was still black and the city lights blurred through mist. This was the life you had built, wasn’t it? Clean. Efficient. Hard-earned. You were good at this. You were doing everything right.

And still. Still, the ache didn’t go away. You rubbed at your eyes and tried to focus on the chart in front of you, but your thoughts slipped back to him.

To Sunghoon. You sighed. Being with him had felt so easy. So natural. His hand against your spine, his voice calling you inside, his quiet laugh when Haneul demanded your attention. His warmth at night.

You swallowed thickly. You had rested. Really rested. And now, sitting under fluorescent lights again, cold coffee untouched, you felt the absence of it so sharply it almost hurt. The thought of going home to your apartment, to Jaemin and the cats, made your stomach twist. You weren't lonely, no.

You were longing. For the life you hadn’t let yourself have. You could’ve had this. You could’ve had him. If only you hadn’t kept choosing the next task. The next round. The next shift. The next exam. You had kept saying later, later, later. And then later became never. Now, in the quiet lull of the gynecology wing, with healthy babies sleeping peacefully just down the hall, you sat and wondered if you had let your whole life pass by in the name of responsibility. A baby cried softly in the distance. You stood, checked your watch, and made your way down the hall with steady steps.

You were good at this. But you weren’t sure anymore if it was enough ──────────────────────── Two days later the taxi dropped you off just past ten pm. You hadn’t even texted ahead. Your body was still aching from your shift at the hospital today. It wasn’t a particularly hard one but you felt drained. You just wanted to go home. But not to your apartment. Not to Jaemin and the cats. Not to the stack of unread medical journals and the untouched laundry. You climbed the front steps to Sunghoon’s house slowly, heart pounding hard enough that you could hear it in your ears. You hesitated for only a second before knocking, not only because it was late, but because what you were going to do might be more than stupid. The door opened, and his mother’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Y/N?” “Hi,” you said, voice smaller than intended. You felt suddenly too casual in your hoodie and jeans, hair still damp. “I… Is Sunghoon home?” She blinked, recovering quickly. “Yes, of course, he just got back from a work dinner not long ago. He’s upstairs. Come in.”

You stepped into the hallway, offering a quiet “Thank you,” before climbing the stairs with shaky knees. You stopped in front of his door and raised your hand to knock, hesitated, but did it anyway. There was a shuffling sound, then the door opened a crack. He was undoing his tie, sleeves already rolled up, hair slightly tousled like he’d run his hands through it too many times. His eyes landed on you, and he froze. “…Y/N?” Your throat tightened. “I–” you started, then stopped. You blinked at him. 

You laughed, but it came out broken. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing,” you said quickly, words tumbling out faster than your brain could filter them. “I just– I finished my shift, and I was walking to the station and I couldn’t go home, I just– I kept thinking about you, and that trip, and how I felt like I could finally breathe and laugh and sleep for the first time in months, years, really–” You were rambling. You knew you were rambling, but you couldn’t stop. “I missed you,” you said. “I missed you so much it physically hurts sometimes, and I’ve been pretending I’m fine and that my work is enough and that I don’t need anything else, but it’s not true. I miss waking up next to you. I miss fighting over takeout menus. I miss your laugh, and how you always steal my side of the blanket." Sunghoon just stared at you, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling slowly. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry I shut you out. I was scared. I thought I had to be this perfect version of myself and I pushed you away thinking it was the right thing, and now I just feel like I ruined everything.” You looked down at your hands.

“I know it’s not fair,” you said. “And I know it’s going to be hard. I have my exam in February, and things won’t suddenly be easy. But if you’d let me, if there’s even a small part of you that still wants this, I’d love to try again. I want to try to be better. To be someone who doesn’t run. To be your girlfriend again.” You hadn’t realized you were crying until his hands cupped your face. “Stop rambling, Y/N,” he said, voice low. And then he kissed you. All the air left your lungs at once. It wasn’t a desperate kiss, or a rushed one. It was slow. Familiar. Steady in a way you hadn’t felt in months. His lips moved against yours like they remembered every detail. His thumb brushed under your eye, catching a stray tear. When he pulled back, your hands had found their way into his shirt. “I would love to try again,” he whispered, forehead against yours.

You laughed softly, tears still running down your cheeks. “Are you sure? I come with a lot of baggage.” He smiled. “You always did.” You swatted at his shoulder. “Rude.” But his arms tightened around you. “I’m serious,” he said. “I don’t care how hard it is. Or how messy. I just want you. Whatever you can give me, I want it.” You closed your eyes and leaned into his chest. His heartbeat was steady under your ear. “I don’t want to go home,” you whispered.

“Then don’t.” You stood there for a long moment, wrapped in his arms like no time had passed at all. Eventually, he tugged you inside the room and closed the door behind you. “Come on,” he said gently. “You look like you need food and sleep in that exact order.” “I need a lot of things,” you said. “But sleep next to you sounds like a good start.” He gave you one of his shirts, a pair of shorts and a towel, to dry your face after you’ve washed it. When you stepped back into his room, Sunghoon was already under the blanket, hair messy, expression soft. You crawled in beside him and sighed as his arm wrapped around you. His warmth seeped into your skin instantly, and for a long moment, you didn’t move.

“This is so nice,” you mumbled into his chest. “Sleeping next to you.” “You used to complain that I snore,” he said softly.

You smiled. “You do.” He chuckled, fingers gently brushing along your arm under the blanket. A few quiet minutes passed like that. “Your mom’s probably already calling my mom. Bet she thinks there’s finally a realistic chance of sturdy grandkids now.”, you said, readjusting your head on his chest. Sunghoon snorted but then he stilled. And when he spoke again, his voice was softer, almost careful. “Would you want that?” he asked. “Kids… with me?” Your heart gave a small lurch. You blinked slowly, shifting so you could look at him in the dark. His eyes were on you. You swallowed. “Honestly?” You nodded. “I can’t imagine having kids with anyone else.” He exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath. You tucked your face back into his chest. “It’s not something I’m ready for. Not now. I don’t even know when I’ll be ready. But… if it ever happens… I’d want it to be with you.” His arms tightened slightly around you. “If this works out again, really works, I’d love that too. Just not right now. Not while you’re barely sleeping and fighting your way through hospital chaos and studying every free second.” You let out a breath. He wasn’t just saying what you wanted to hear. He meant it. You knew him well enough to tell. “I really would love that,” you murmured.

“I want you to have what you’ve worked for,” he said. “Your dream. Your degree. Your own timeline. I’ll support you through all of it. No matter what.” You blinked back the sudden pressure in your chest and reached for his hand, interlacing your fingers with his beneath the blanket. “Hoon…,” you whispered, not knowing what to say without breaking down in tears. “I’m not going anywhere and I won’t let you ever again,” he promised. And you believed him.

Thank you so much for reading! Lots of Love, Patty

all feedback and reblogs are welcome ⭑.ᐟ ⤷ my masterlist ⭑.ᐟ

ᝰ taglist. @enhastolemyheart @dreamiestay @elairah @vviolynn @engenemilia  @xylatox @firstclassjaylee @mangoescrazy @seokjinthescientist @ddolleri

ᝰ an. ₊ ⊹  dear anons, I hope it was alright I mixed your requests and you enjoyed reading the story, even if I might not have encapsulated your request fully! Burnout is a shit thing to experience. If you feel like you are close to burning out, do take a break. Really. Do. No deadline or test is worth your mental and physical health.

[enhastolemyheart]

Childhood trio Pt. I miss b99 sm

MC: Okay, don't be mad. But sometimes.. you can be a bit..

Caleb: Judgmental.

Zayne: What a stupid thing to say. Name one time I was judgmental.

Caleb: Okay.

Caleb plays a recording of Zayne: What a stupid thing to say.

[enhastolemyheart]

HIDDEN LOVE

SYNOPSIS > park sunghoon was the most good looking and respectful man you’ve ever met at the age of 13. ignoring the fact that you had a loud and obnoxious older brother, park jongseong, as his best friend. with things going by in your life and a heartbreak at 17. what happens when you coincidentally reconnected with your past crush on someone 5 years older than you?

TWENTY-THREE – i am screwed

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

a/n: sunghoon has finally realising his massive fat crush on you. yay! we win! also this part isnt exactly like the cdrama as duan jiaxu's friends don't find out he has a crush on sang zhi until later on. i think it's more dramatic if we have jake and heeseung find out about it bc it will be way funnier to watch them keep a secret in front of jay than them being clueless😋

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[enhastolemyheart]

wrong table, right person .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ — sjy

⋆˚꩜｡ 011 :: double dare u to wave

ʚଓ m.list — prev — next

synopsis . ❀ ݁ ˖ yn finally agrees to a blind date to finally shut her bffs up about her tragic dating life. Dressed to impress but armed with zero expectations, she arrives at a café, scans the room, and sits across from a guy who checks every box: handsome yet cute, and surprisingly sarcastic in a way that keeps her on her toes. Only one problem: he’s not her date. Jake, a schools heartthrob laying low not to be caught by his fan girls, is just trying to enjoy a quiet cup of coffee when a stranger slides into the seat across from him and starts talking like they know each other. Intrigued — and a little bored — he plays along. What starts as a mistaken identity turns into a full-blown accidental date. And when yn finally realizes her mixup… she walks away mortified. But Jake? He can’t stop thinking about her. Now he’s determined to find her again — without revealing who he really is. As fate (or nosy mutual friends) brings them back together, their story becomes anything but accidental. Because sometimes, love finds you at the wrong table — at exactly the right time.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ taglist — @astrobebba @rikchic @zoe1love @t1iqaa @enhanoa @yuyita-rosier @smolderingoasislegion @synamon @blvengene @urfavmelaninatedgeminii @cupidmiyu @naevisringring @swiftcityy @luhvletters @sumzysworld @w3willris3 @skepvids @enhastolemyheart @kimuranirisi @rairaiblog @teenagecheesecakereview @kuroosluthoe @firstclassjaylee @kiromiix @firstclassjaylee @splzq @yenienha @aernx @jakeznii @berryzoo @haechsworld @mochamvgz @thea-herondale @ilovewonyo @aethersluvrr @soona-huh @vampjakey @wdwbts101 @slvdsjjk

[enhastolemyheart]

MC: See you in hell.

Sylus: I get to see you? Aww, sweetie.

[enhastolemyheart]

the café was louder than usual. music playing, espresso machines hissing and the table of guys next to yours getting rowdier by the minute. you tried to laugh through it with your best friend. tried to ignore how their voices kept getting closer, how their comments got bolder. until one of them pulled up a chair uninvited.

“didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” he said, grinning like he absolutely had, “but i couldn’t help noticing how cute you are when you laugh.”

your smile died. “i’m not interested.”

your best friend gave him a death glare. “she has a boyfriend.”

the guy just laughed ugly. “then he must be a fool to let you out alone.”

your heart started to pound. you slipped your phone under the table, fingers flying across the screen.

sylus. elm café. group of guys won’t leave us alone. please come now. i’m scared.

his reply came within seconds.

on my way. don’t say another word to them.

but one of them leaned in again, fingers brushing the table just inches from yours. “so what’s he like, huh? bigger than me? tougher? come on, baby, don’t be shy.”

you flinched. then the café door opened. you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. the entire room seemed to feel it, like the temperature dropped ten degrees in a second.

sylus walked in with quiet and lethal calm. black coat buttoned up, expression unreadable. his gaze landed on you, and didn’t leave. he came to your side, slow and deliberate, like a storm winding up.

“you okay?” he asked you softly.

you nodded, but your hand trembled when you reached for his.

he turned to the guy still being way too close. “back up.”

the guy sneered. “who the hell are you?”

your man didn’t answer. he didn’t need to. the look in his dark eyes was a warning enough. but another one of them laughed from their table and called out,

“come on, bro, share with us. don’t be greedy.”

the entire café went still. sylus blinked once, like he hadn’t quite heard that right. you felt it first, the absolute stillness and the tensing of muscles. the kind that settles over predators right before they strike.

he leaned forward, his voice turned into velvet-wrapped steel. “she’s not yours to share. she’s not mine to share. she’s not a thing. she’s my woman. and if you ever speak to her like that again, you won’t walk out of here.”

the guy scoffed like he wanted to argue until sylus stepped forward and the entire table backed up.

“you think you’re scary or something?” the first guy muttered, weaker now.

sylus tilted his head, gaze calm but cutting. “no. i don’t think. i know.” he looked to you. “come on, angel. let’s go.”

you slipped into his side instantly, grabbing your best friend’s hand on the way out. he didn’t say another word or looked back. he kept one firm hand on the small of your back until the door shut behind you.

outside sylus called a cab for your best friend. the silence was thick and your heart was still thundering. after saying goodbye to your friend, sylus lead you to his car.

inside, his fingers were still tight around the wheel, and his jaw clenched tightly.

you reached for his hand. “i’m okay now.”

he finally looked at you, like he had to see you to believe it. his voice came low, soft but hoarse. “you should’ve never been put in that position.”

“you came,” you whispered. “that’s what matters.”

he leaned in and kissed your forehead softly. “you’re not a toy. you’re not a prize. you’re mine, but that’s not possession, angel. that’s protection. and i’ll protect you from anything. anyone.”

you smiled gently. “even idiots in coffee shops?”

he smirked, but only a little. “especially them.” then his voice dropped a little lower, laced with something darker. “if i ever hear someone speak about you like that again, i won’t just walk out.”

and for a moment, the car felt like it belonged to something dangerous, something terrifying. but completely yours.

[enhastolemyheart]

Watch him for me?

You set the phone down and record him

“Hey can you guys watch him for me?” You walked into the room setting the phone down in front of him. He looked up briefly as he was making his model. He just stared at the camera for a moment before flashing a smile. He continued to work before looking over again.

“She’s always doing pranks. I don’t think I understand this one though.” He explains not making eye contact with the camera, “I enjoy it though makes me feel wanted.” He mumbles before finishing his model.

“Done. It’s the newest one and I finished it in a little less than an hour.” He explains smirking as he shows it off to the camera. You come back and pick the phone up.

“Thanks guys!” You smile ending the video. Caleb showed off his model to you as you stared in awe.

Later that day you watched back the video with a sad smile. You hugged Caleb a little tighter that night and told him you loved him a bit extra so he knows you’ll always want him.

“Hey guys can you watch him for me?” You say as you put the phone on the claw machine. Xavier looks down for a second before waving. He watched you briefly as you walked away before looking back at the machine.

He presses the button and watches it lower before it drops the plushie. He huffs before his hand lights up causing the plushie to fall into the hole. He side eyes the camera before putting his finger to his lips.

“Don’t tell her.” He whispers as he picks up the plushies. When you return he gives it to you.

“Aww thank you Xavier.” You coo as you thank the camera for watching him. He gives the camera the eye before you shut it off.

Zayne was reading when you set the camera down in front of him.

“Watch him for me guys.” You wave “bye” before leaving the room. Zayne glances up before looking back down flipping the page. His glasses sitting on his nose.

“I don’t understand why I have to watched.” He says not looking up. He sits in moments of silence before closing the book.

“Let’s play a game of saying keywords until you come back.” He smiles softly as he repositioned the phone towards the door.

“I should go get some dinner before it gets too late.” He says loud enough for you to hear. You tumble into the room falling over your two feet as he stood there with his arms crossed. You look up with a smile.

“Dinner?” You offer as he chuckles helping you up. He turns the camera off before handing it back to you.

“Watch my boss for me?” You ask the camera before putting it on a stand across from Sylus who was listening to classical music. You scurry out of the room before he can question you.

He turned to the camera before putting his finger to his lips. He grabs the camera and the video swishes catching glimpses of his swaying waist before he stands by the door. He tilts his head towards the door before opening it to see you standing there with your ear to the door.

“Gotcha.” He chuckles making you pout as he records you both. He kisses your cheek before ending the video.

“No fair.” You whine as he laughs. “Alls fair in love and war.” He teases giving you your phone back.

“Watch him for me?” You put the phone across from the ladder. Rafayel’s eyes follow you as you leave. He looks back at the camera, his eyes shifting around.

“I don’t feel comfortable with anyone watching my creative process…it’s like taboo.” He climbs down before standing in front of it.

Immediately his demeanor shifts as he grabs the phone in a rush. His eyes shift around the room as he gets up close and personal.

“Guys I’m trapped here. Everyday I’m making paintings until my hands bleed.” He says quickly as you burst into the room to snatch the phone.

“Don’t listen to him!” You yell into the camera as he doubles over in laughter. You glare at him as he cries laughing.

This has been in the vault too long as you can tell by the eye dividers 🥲

[enhastolemyheart]

CHAP. 2 彡 i hate jake sim

ㅤㅤ༝　 　 ₊ MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER | ENHA MASTERLIST ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎

taglists -

reg taglist. @beomiracles @biteyoubiteme @hyukascampfire @dawngyu @izzyy-stuff @xylatox @firstclassjaylee @teddybeartaetae @hoonjayke @princesstiti14 @seokjinthescientist @lillotus17

series taglist.  @nishimura-mimura @hoonkishoe @rairaiblog @orxngebloods @enhxlvr @yumaslvr @yourgirlyoi @thealchemy89 @notleclerc @thesundys @lala-loopsydoll @haechology @sumzysworld @simjaeyunsgf @eileenville @nyfwyeonjun @rustymoons

@getoxo @kiwicup1 @yeonmuse @teenagecheesecakereview @Rikimurafx @aernx @heartheejake @cupiddolle @cripplinghooman @devilish-meangadh @enhaz1 @jvngw0nlvr @tinyteezer @yunjiiin @heejamas @zoe1love @mrsjjongstby @sourkiki @haechanlover200 

@dearestdreamies @i-am-not-dal @coconutx-o @annovaz @riribelle

[enhastolemyheart]

CHAP. 1 彡 that ship sunk

ㅤㅤ༝　 　 ₊ MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER | ENHA MASTERLIST ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎

You burst through the studio doors like a gust of caffeine-fueled wind, paper tray clutched in your hands like a golden offering to the gods. The scent of espresso and vanilla syrup trails behind you in a sweet, frantic cloud. "Okay, I come bearing salvation," you declare, breathless and triumphant, as you stride into the recording booth of In Our Era, the podcast that ruled Tuesday mornings and TikTok algorithms alike. 

Chaewon looks up from the soundboard, her lipstick still perfect despite an hour of uninterrupted talking. Her eyes light up at the sight of the coffee. “You’re an angel,” she sighs, accepting the cup with reverence. “I’ve been called worse,” you mutter, handing off the rest, Wonyoung’s with extra oat milk and two pumps of caramel, and an unclaimed Americano meant for the devil himself. Speak of the devil; Jake Sim is already leaning against the doorway, one brow cocked like he owns gravity. He's tall, infuriatingly photogenic, and dressed like he woke up in a GQ spread. He nods at you, and it’s not even a nice nod, it’s smug. It's the kind of nod that says thanks, assistant, and makes your blood fizz like soda. 

“Late again,” he drawls. “That a personality trait or just your brand of punctuality?”

You don’t even look at him. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over the sound of absolutely nobody asking for your opinion.” 

Chaewon snorts behind her mic. Wonyoung, lounging in her chair like podcast royalty, just hums. “Children, please,” she says without looking up from her phone. “We’re still on-air.” 

“Not for long,” Chaewon says, glancing at the clock. “Ten seconds left.” 

You watch the red ON AIR sign flicker, your shoulders finally dropping. Jake leans in behind Wonyoung to tap a button, probably something needlessly technical. You don’t know why he’s even here; he’s not a producer, not a host, not even supposed to be in this studio. But he’s Wonyoung’s friend and the golden boy of the network, which means he slinks into rooms uninvited and nobody ever kicks him out. Chaewon leans into her mic. “And that’s all for this week’s episode of In Our Era! As always, thank you for tuning in—” 

“—and remember,” Wonyoung finishes sweetly, “love is in your era if you let it be. Bye, babes!” The outro jingle hums to life, a soft, dreamy melody that usually signals the end of the show. But the mics are still hot.

“I have a date tonight,” Wonyoung says cheerfully as she turns to Jake, casually scrolling through her messages. “He’s a florist. Isn’t that cute?”

Jake snorts. “A florist? Yeah, that’ll last.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

Jake tilts his head lazily toward you. “Come on. You think some guy handing out tulips and sonnets is going to be long-term material?”

You blink again. “And you think saying that out loud makes you sound smart? Or just emotionally repressed?” Jake raises a brow, intrigued now. “Oh, I see. You’re one of those.”

“What is those?” 

“The hopeless romantic types,” he says, waving vaguely at you like it’s contagious. “The ones who think every first date is fate, and love is just one ‘right person’ away.”

“And you’re one of those emotionally unavailable commitmentphobes who thinks love is a scam invented by greeting card companies.” Wonyoung and Chaewon exchange slow, delighted glances. But you don’t notice. Neither does Jake.

“You do realize how unhinged you sound, right?” he says. 

“Says the man who thinks florists aren’t boyfriend material. Like what, you need your dates to be tax attorneys to believe they’re serious?”

“I need my dates to be; wait, are we really doing this now?”

“Yes, apparently we are doing this now—” The studio door swings open. A young, pale-faced intern peeks in, dread pooling in his eyes like he’s just seen the apocalypse. “Um. Sorry to interrupt,” he says, voice tight, “but, uh… you’re still live.”

Silence. You freeze. Jake blinks. Wonyoung starts giggling so hard she nearly falls off her chair. “No. No way.” Chaewon cackles, covering her mic a second too late. “That’s going viral immediately.” You stare at the ON AIR sign. Still glowing. Still judging. You suddenly want to melt into the floor and evaporate.

Jake recovers first. “Well,” he says, grinning like a man who just found a golden ticket, “guess the audience just got a bonus episode.” 

You glare at him. “You are impossible.” 

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[enhastolemyheart]

'the girl is mine' characters ゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

yn's friends "bring back bionicles"

heeseung & sunghoon's friends "og moonstruck"

masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

ᡣ•.•𐭩♡ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @manaah02 @zorange13 @firstclassjaylee @kristynaaah @17ericas @heeseung64 @leipforggy @s1rawb3rry @ddeonuswife @orxngebloods @xylatox

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[enhastolemyheart]

[enhastolemyheart]

wrong table, right person .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ — sjy

⋆˚꩜｡ 007 :: loser but in a good way?

ʚଓ m.list — prev — next

synopsis . ❀ ݁ ˖ yn finally agrees to a blind date to finally shut her bffs up about her tragic dating life. Dressed to impress but armed with zero expectations, she arrives at a café, scans the room, and sits across from a guy who checks every box: handsome yet cute, and surprisingly sarcastic in a way that keeps her on her toes. Only one problem: he’s not her date. Jake, a schools heartthrob laying low not to be caught by his fan girls, is just trying to enjoy a quiet cup of coffee when a stranger slides into the seat across from him and starts talking like they know each other. Intrigued — and a little bored — he plays along. What starts as a mistaken identity turns into a full-blown accidental date. And when yn finally realizes her mixup… she walks away mortified. But Jake? He can’t stop thinking about her. Now he’s determined to find her again — without revealing who he really is. As fate (or nosy mutual friends) brings them back together, their story becomes anything but accidental. Because sometimes, love finds you at the wrong table — at exactly the right time.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

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