leeknowsnot

[leeknowsnot]

CHAPTER 36 — The Things We Hide, The Things We Show

There was something different about the way Lina stood in front of her mirror that morning. Her reflection used to feel like a stranger—sometimes dull-eyed and distant, often unimpressed and unmoved. But now, there was something else in her gaze. A quiet gleam, a steadiness in her shoulders. She tilted her head, scrutinizing the small but definite signs of change: a subtle firmness in her arms, a more defined line across her stomach, and above all, a glow—not from vanity, but from effort. She wasn’t sculpting herself to be someone else. She was honoring herself by choosing to show up every day, no longer rotting away in bed or drowning in stagnant hours. It wasn’t about becoming perfect. It was about choosing to move. And that, she realized, was a kind of freedom.

She turned to the small calendar pinned to her wall and ran her finger down the neat columns of days. Her fingertip stopped at a date already marked in red: the inter-school baseball game. She circled it once more, darker this time, then let her hand rest at the edge of the page.

“You’ve got this,” she whispered to herself, her voice a quiet promise. “You’re not just watching from the sidelines anymore.”

⸻

Game day arrived beneath a sharp blue sky streaked with sunlight and the tang of fresh-cut grass.

Seungmin, groggy and still nursing sleep, rubbed at his eyes as he stepped out of his unit. He blinked at the piece of paper taped crookedly to Lina’s door.

“Left early! Needed to prep for something!! Good luck today!!! :) -L”

He huffed a small laugh. “She was in such a rush, it’s a miracle I could even read this,” he muttered, tugging the note off before folding it and tucking it into his pocket without thinking. His smile lingered.

He made his way to the other school’s campus, gear slung over one shoulder. But the layout was unfamiliar—larger than their own school, with winding paths, oddly numbered buildings, and signs pointing in opposite directions.

As he rounded a corner near the school’s back halls, a door swung open. A girl stepped out of what was clearly the restroom, fluffing her hair with quick expert fingers. Seungmin halted mid-step.

Yunjin.

He recognized her from their school—a fairly new transfer, if he remembered right. She blinked in surprise at the boy now staring at her.

“Hey, sorry—uh, do you know where the field is?” he asked with a lopsided grin. “I think I’m halfway to a math classroom.”

Yunjin smiled politely. “I’m just as lost, actually. I just got here.”

“Well,” Seungmin chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, “I guess we’re doomed to wander together, then.”

They began walking side by side, weaving through the unfamiliar layout. The conversation was light, effortless. He nodded toward her cheerleading uniform.

“Suits you,” he said casually. “You look like you were born for it.”

Yunjin laughed. “Thanks. First time I’ll actually get to see the baseball team play. Kinda exciting.”

“Well, depends on how well you guys cheer,” he teased, raising a brow. “Our guys claim they get boosts of morale depending on the cheers.”

She giggled. “What? From the cheers?”

He leaned in conspiratorially. “More like the legs.”

Yunjin burst out laughing, smacking his arm lightly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I try.”

When they finally reached the path toward the field, the chatter of the crowd already buzzing in the distance, they paused.

“Thanks for the detour,” Seungmin smiled.

“Thanks for not making it awkward,” Yunjin winked. “See you around.”

He watched her go for a moment before turning and heading toward the locker room. The inside was empty except for the echo of his footsteps and the faint hum of muffled music booming outside. His teammates’ gear littered the benches, but they were nowhere to be seen.

“Probably off scouting for cute girls,” Seungmin murmured to himself with a smirk as he set his bag down. His smile faded as he sat down slowly, rolling his shoulder back and flexing the joint.

His fingers found the spot beneath his clavicle and pressed. No pain. Yet.

“Don’t betray me now,” he whispered to the rotator cuff that had both carried and cursed his career.

The door burst open. One by one, his teammates returned—laughing, shoving, light-hearted. They ruffled his hair, bumped shoulders, exchanged inside jokes. The locker room bloomed with noise and scent and unspoken promises of victory.

They changed. They huddled. The coach entered and gave a sharp, grounded pep talk. Then came the muffled roar of the crowd outside, pulsing louder now.

The game was about to begin.

⸻

Lina’s hands shook slightly as she tied her final ribbon. Her cheerleading uniform clung to her tighter than usual, and she took a deep breath to still the trembling in her chest.

“You okay?” Soojin asked, adjusting her own uniform in the mirror.

“Fine,” Lina lied too quickly. “Just… pre-performance jitters.”

Soojin grinned and slapped her back. “Well, don’t fall. He’s probably gonna be looking.”

Lina flushed. 'He doesn’t even know yet,' she thought, her heart rattling against her ribs. Seungmin hadn’t seen her like this. She’d made sure of it—always brushing off hangouts, claiming club activities or school errands.

But now, there was no more hiding.

They stepped out into the sunlit stadium as the speakers blasted their entrance cue. The crowd was loud and electric, a mix of two schools clashing in color and cheer. Her feet moved from muscle memory, her pom-poms twirling, knees sharp, arms raised to the sky. She barely heard anything over the rush in her ears.

Then the baseball teams started pouring into the field.

She scanned them. Her heart jumped when she saw him.

Seungmin, in his uniform—fitted, confident, the light catching in the curve of his jaw and the line of his focused brows. He was walking with his teammates toward the dugout, casting glances around the crowd.

Looking for her.

His gaze found the cheer squad. He spotted Yunjin first—expected. Then Hana. Then Soojin.

And then—

His steps faltered. His mouth opened slightly.

There you are.

Lina didn’t stop cheering, didn’t break rhythm. But her eyes met his. And in them, there was no fear. Just a silent vow.

I’m cheering for you. So win this.

Seungmin’s lips parted in awe. Then slowly, a smile curled at the corners. His heart thudded louder than the crowd. Warmer than the sun.

She had been hiding this part of herself.

But now she was showing him. And he had never felt so seen.

[leeknowsnot]

CHAPTER 35 — The Mornings After

The night stretched long and quiet, the kind of stillness that held the echoes of unspoken promises.

Hours had passed since their kiss turned to confessions, and confessions to something more.

Now, much later into the night, the world had fallen entirely asleep—except Lina.

The covers were soft against her skin, the warmth of Seungmin’s bed still faintly perfumed by his detergent and something else she could only describe as him—clean, comforting, the scent of skin after a shower, a little like cedar and cotton.

She lay there quietly, her cheek resting on the crook of his arm.

Seungmin was asleep beside her.

Or rather—beneath her.

His head was tilted ever so slightly toward hers, his chest rising and falling in a soft, rhythmic cadence that had become her new favorite sound. One arm lay under her head, the other draped across her waist, his fingers gently curled into the fabric of the shirt she now wore—his shirt.

Loose. Warm. Too big for her frame, yet somehow fitting her just right.

Their legs were tangled.

His skin was soft beneath hers. And he was warm—so incredibly warm.

Lina stared up at him.

He was beautiful like this.

Peaceful.

All his sharp angles softened by sleep. His jawline a little less tense, his lips parted just barely as he breathed. A strand of hair had fallen across his forehead, and without thinking, she reached up, brushing it back with the lightest touch.

Her fingertips hovered, tracing the bridge of his nose. The slope of his cheek.

She brushed ever so gently against his lashes.

He didn’t stir.

Not even a twitch.

It made her smile.

There was something almost sacred about watching someone like this—unguarded, unaware. He wasn’t performing, wasn’t being careful with his words or his expressions.

This was the Seungmin that existed when no one else was watching.

And she was here.

Close enough to count every faint freckle, to feel the warmth of his breath on her collarbone.

She could remember a time when this—just being beside him—already felt like enough. Like a miracle she didn’t dare ask too much from.

But now… now she realized something deeper.

Now that they had both crossed the line. Now that he had kissed her like she was his world, held her like she might slip through his fingers—

She didn’t just feel content.

She felt whole.

Complete in a way that made her chest ache with gratitude.

Lina didn’t know when sleep finally pulled her under.

But when it did, she sank into it quietly, her hand still gently curled over the edge of Seungmin’s shirt, her body molded into his like it belonged there.

—

The soft press of lips against her cheek stirred her awake.

Then another.

And another.

Light, fluttering kisses—almost ticklish.

Lina groaned faintly, squirming, her brows knitting as her brain sluggishly tried to register what was happening.

Seungmin.

That warmth was him.

His mouth grazed her nose next, then the tip of her chin.

Then finally, he placed a lingering kiss on her lips, gentle and slow.

When she cracked open her eyes, Seungmin was smiling down at her, his hair tousled into the soft chaos of sleep, and a small dimple denting his cheek.

His arm was still wrapped around her, and he looked freshly awake—eyes still heavy, lashes a little clumped, but focused entirely on her like nothing else mattered.

“Morning,” he whispered.

Lina blinked at him. Her brain was still loading.

“Wh—” Her voice cracked. “What time is it?”

He grinned. “Early. Like… well, early enough that I could still sneak in ten more kisses without you noticing.”

Her eyes widened in sleepy mortification. “You’ve been—? How long—?”

“About ten minutes,” he said, stretching a little. “You were too cute. I couldn’t help it.”

Lina groaned and immediately buried her face in his chest, her hands flying up to cover her cheeks. “I’m going to evaporate.”

Seungmin chuckled, low and warm.

She peeked up at him through her fingers. “You are so unfair.”

“Good morning to you, too, sleepyhead,” he teased, sitting up and ruffling his already messy hair. He climbed out of bed, his voice trailing with a grin, “You look like a caterpillar still wrapped in its blanket cocoon.”

Lina, now upright and still processing life, grabbed the nearest pillow and chucked it at him with half-hearted frustration. “Take that back.”

The pillow hit his back with a soft whump.

He turned around with a smug smile, holding up both hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. You’re a beautiful caterpillar.”

She rolled her eyes and reached for another pillow. “Keep talking.”

He backed away playfully. “Violence this early in the morning? Who knew love came with battle damage?”

She laughed despite herself, hugging her knees and sighing.

The room was quiet again for a moment.

And then—

“Seungmin?”

He turned at the sound of his name.

She was staring down at her hands, fingers twisting in the hem of his oversized shirt. “Can you… come here?”

His expression shifted. Softer. Curious.

He walked back over to the bed, sitting beside her, their thighs touching.

Gently, he reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the same way he had the night before.

Lina looked up at him slowly.

“So… all of this,” she began, voice barely above a whisper, “what happened last night… what does it mean we are now?”

There was a flicker in Seungmin’s eyes. A glint of surprise, followed by something warm and infinitely fond.

He leaned in slightly, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. “It means…”

She blinked at him.

“…you can finally ask me if I want to come over and eat ramen at your place.”

Lina stared. Then went scarlet. “Kim Seungmin!”

He laughed. Loudly.

She slapped his arm once. Then twice. “I was being serious!”

He dodged her third slap, grabbing her wrists and pulling her into a side hug. “I know, I know,” he said between chuckles, eyes crinkling. “But so was I. Because I do want to come over for ramen. Like, forever.”

She groaned into his shoulder. “I can’t believe I like you.”

“You love me,” he corrected, smug.

She bit his shoulder gently. “Say that again and I’ll bite harder.”

—

Later that day at school, Lina sat at her usual desk in the courtyard, a half-empty milk carton clutched between her hands. She’d been sipping from the same straw for at least fifteen minutes now.

Across from her, Yunjin was scribbling furiously into her notes while Soojin and Hana bickered with open textbooks between them.

“I’m telling you, Hana, Aristotle and Plato would’ve definitely been enemies on Instagram,” Soojin insisted.

“No, they’d be mutuals. Passive-aggressive mutuals,” Hana replied, deadpan. “You can’t quote Plato and not get ratio’d by Aristotle.”

“I don’t even think they existed in the same time period—” Yunjin started, but was cut off by Soojin waving a pen.

“Doesn’t matter. In a hypothetical modern world, they’d definitely block each other over comment threads.”

Lina hadn’t said a word.

Her straw made a tiny squeaking noise.

Hana squinted at her. “Lina.”

No reaction.

“Lina.”

Still nothing.

“Yah—earth to daydreamer!”

A loud snap of fingers in front of her face startled her so much she nearly dropped her milk.

“What?” she squeaked.

All three girls stared at her.

Yunjin narrowed her eyes. “You’ve been sipping that empty milk carton for ten minutes. What gives?”

“N-Nothing!” Lina said quickly. “I’m just tired.”

Hana arched a brow. “Tired, huh? Must’ve had a busy night.”

Soojin leaned forward, smirking. “Define ‘busy.’”

Lina almost smiled. Almost. But she caught herself and quickly looked away. “It’s really nothing.”

They clearly didn’t believe her.

But before they could press her further, Yunjin changed the topic. “By the way—Lina, did you try those exercises I sent you last week?”

“Which ones?”

“The stretching routine for your shoulder and hip alignment! I swear it’ll fix everything from posture to soul trauma.”

“Wait, you’re not making her do those TikTok ones with the weird wall squats, are you?” Soojin asked.

“She made me do them once,” Hana muttered. “I looked like a crab.”

Lina giggled softly as the chaos resumed, their voices overlapping.

And while she sat there, still slightly floating from the night before, she let herself sink back into the rhythm of them—her friends, her life, and the quiet joy swelling in her chest.

[leeknowsnot]

CHAPTER 34 — When the Walls Come Down

He didn’t kiss her.

Not right then.

Even with the faint tremble of her whisper still hanging between them—“Then do it”—Seungmin simply stared at her. His breath shallow. His heart loud. His eyes filled with all the words he hadn’t said, all the questions he still didn’t have answers for.

But instead of leaning in…

He reached up. Carefully. Gently. Tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear and let his fingertips linger against her skin just a second longer than necessary.

Then, he stepped back.

The air between them remained warm, buzzing. Heavy with tension that neither of them knew how to name.

And still, he said nothing.

They didn’t speak as they turned around.

Didn’t speak as they walked back the same path they’d come from.

Only this time, Seungmin reached out quietly—tentatively—and slipped his hand into hers.

And Lina didn’t pull away.

She didn’t even flinch.

She let him hold her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like her fingers were always meant to be laced in his.

They walked together under the soft hush of dusk, their silhouettes long and close on the quiet pavement, two shadows gently braided into one. The evening breeze brushed against their skin. The leaves rustled like a whisper in the distance.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable.

But it wasn’t entirely peaceful either.

There was something unspoken riding between every step they took—something that made Lina’s chest feel tight, her thoughts running on a loop she couldn’t quite escape.

It didn’t feel like walking home.

It felt like walking toward a change she couldn’t undo.

They stopped in front of Seungmin’s unit.

His hand slipped from hers only to reach for his keys. He unlocked the door slowly, deliberately, the metal soft against the latch. The sound was quiet, but it cut through the air like a question.

He didn’t open it fully.

Instead, he turned to her.

His expression was unreadable at first, his eyes a mirror of too many things. Quiet concern. A slow-burning intensity. And beneath it all—love. So deep and certain it almost hurt to look at.

“If you step inside,” he murmured, voice low, “there’s no going back anymore.”

It wasn’t just about the door.

It never was.

Lina stared at him.

For a moment, she could only hear her heartbeat.

Loud. Unsteady. Full of fear and longing all at once.

But slowly, without speaking, she took a breath…

And stepped forward.

Past him.

Past the doorway.

Into his space. Into his world.

She walked a few steps inside, then stopped. Turned around.

Faced him.

Her eyes met his—no more hesitation, no more confusion. Only quiet, trembling affection resting heavy behind them.

Seungmin’s eyes flickered.

He didn’t move for a beat. His fingers clenched slightly by his sides, his jaw tight like he was holding something in. His chest rose and fell with a quiet urgency, as if whatever control he had left was fraying fast.

Then, without a word, he stepped in.

Closed the door behind him.

Click.

The latch slid into place, sealing them in.

And then—he didn’t wait.

He walked straight to her.

His eyes never leaving hers, he reached out and cupped her face with both hands, palms warm against her flushed cheeks. She sucked in a breath—sharp, quick, soft. But she didn’t move.

And then, finally—

His lips met hers.

The first contact was an exhale. A release.

All the pent-up emotion—days, weeks, months of silent glances and unsaid feelings—spilled into the kiss.

His lips moved over hers slowly at first, searching. But the moment she melted into him, it changed.

The kiss deepened.

His hands held her like she was the most fragile thing in the world—yet his lips spoke nothing but hunger. Longing. Heat.

It wasn’t rushed.

It was raw.

His mouth moved with hers, tilting gently, then again, lips parting only to reconnect like they couldn’t bear the separation. Their breaths grew quicker, the air thick with warmth and want and the sound of lips brushing, retreating, colliding again.

Lina’s fingers tangled in his sleeves before reaching higher, threading into the collar of his hoodie as if needing something to anchor her, something solid in the wave of everything crashing inside her.

Her back hit the edge of the bed.

She almost stumbled.

But Seungmin caught her.

Without breaking the kiss, his arms secured her, guiding her down, slow and careful.

His body followed—hovering, never pressing, but present.

The bed dipped beneath her as she landed, and Seungmin knelt over her, arms caging her in. His forehead rested against hers for a second as they both caught their breath, lips swollen, chests heaving.

His eyes were half-lidded now, dark with emotion and affection and restraint.

Then, softly—he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I really do like you,” he murmured.

He paused. Swallowed. His thumb brushed her cheek, reverent.

“No—”

A breath.

“I love you.”

His voice was barely there, almost a vow.

“I love you, Lina.”

Her heart twisted at the sound.

Lina stared up at him, wide-eyed and glassy.

Something in her chest gave way completely.

She didn’t speak right away.

But then—her arms wrapped slowly around his neck.

She pulled him closer.

And just before their lips met again, she whispered back—

“I love you too.”

And this time, the kiss came softer. Sweeter. No longer charged with just longing but with something more steady. More grounded.

They sank into it together.

A confession. A promise. A beginning.

And though no one said another word…

The night ahead spoke for itself.

[leeknowsnot]

cinema.

[leeknowsnot]

CHAPTER 33 — I Meant It, You Know

The question had left her lips before she could even think.

“What are we?”

It hung between them like a trembling tightrope, suspended and fragile, begging to break under the weight of meaning.

The world didn’t move for a beat.

Seungmin had gone completely still.

The light wind brushed past them, ruffling his already-mussed hair. His brows lifted, barely. His eyes, dark and round, widened—more in surprise than anything else. He looked like he’d just been caught in a daydream.

Then, slowly… gently… his expression softened.

His gaze fell on hers, and he turned to face her fully. He inhaled, deep and deliberate, like he needed the air to say what came next.

His lips parted. “What do you want us to be?”

Lina blinked.

Her heart slammed so hard against her ribs it nearly hurt. The question knocked the air out of her like a punch to the stomach.

“What—” she stammered, blinking again, brows knitting. “What do you mean, me?”

But he just waited, his expression calm but serious. No teasing. No smugness. Just an unreadable look in his eyes that made her chest tighten.

“You—” she scoffed, lightly, trying to shake off the heat rushing up her neck. “You’re the one who keeps doing all this—stuff—and now you’re throwing the question back at me?”

His lips twitched, just a little, but he remained quiet.

She gestured wildly, apple still in her hand. “You wait outside my unit like some cryptic phantom. You take me to roller coasters and game booths and act like you’re just casually destroying my sense of normal. You wiped tomato sauce off my face, Seungmin! With your thumb! And you licked it! Who does that unless—”

She broke off.

His brows slowly arched upward. “So you felt something?”

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. She looked at him, then away. Her eyes shifted down. Then she nodded. Quietly. Barely.

“Yes.”

A beat passed.

Then—Seungmin let out the faintest chuckle. The sound was quiet and short and low, like he couldn’t help it. He glanced away, scratching the back of his neck.

“We’re idiots,” he muttered.

She didn’t respond right away. She was still watching him. Still holding her apple. Still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Seungmin wasn’t walking away.

That he hadn’t laughed at her. That he hadn’t dismissed her question.

Instead, he turned to her again, slower this time, his voice more deliberate.

“I meant it, you know.”

Lina blinked. “What?”

“Back then. At the school festival.” His voice had turned soft now, almost unsure. He started walking toward her. Not fast. Not dramatic. Just… deliberate.

Each step was steady, quiet. Controlled.

“When I said I like you.”

It was almost a whisper.

But the words crashed into her like thunder.

Lina’s breath caught in her throat. She looked up at him, her lashes trembling. She didn’t even realize she’d started biting her lower lip until she exhaled—slow and shaky.

Seungmin stopped in front of her. Close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheeks, soft and steady. His eyes were clearer now. Gentle. Full of something terrifying and tender.

His voice was barely above a whisper.

“What about you, then?”

He tilted his head slightly. “What am I to you?”

That broke something open.

Lina’s lips trembled. Her throat tightened. She wanted to look away—but she couldn’t. His eyes were too warm. Too earnest. Too full of something she had refused to acknowledge for far too long.

“I…” she swallowed. Her voice broke. “I don’t know.”

She looked down again.

Her walls were cracking.

“I don’t like… feeling this way,” she confessed, voice softer now, almost apologetic. “It makes me feel weak.”

His brows twitched just slightly. But he said nothing.

“I’ve been denying it,” she said. “The whole time. Just telling myself it’s nothing. But it’s not.”

Her fingers clenched slightly around the apple in her hand. She looked up again, more fiercely now, like if she didn’t, she’d shatter.

“When you wait for me outside our unit,” she said, “I can barely breathe. My heart just… goes crazy, and I tell myself to calm down, but it never works.”

She laughed bitterly. “When you dragged me out of the café during the school fest and made me go on those rides, even if I felt like dying on the spot I had so much fun I thought I’d implode. And then when you said you liked me but played it off like a joke, I—I didn’t know why I felt like I’d been punched in the chest.”

Her voice cracked again. Her eyes burned.

“I hated that it hurt. Because if it wasn’t real, then why did I care so much?”

Her chest tightened. She didn’t even realize tears had started to form in her eyes until she blinked and felt the sting.

She raised her hand and weakly punched his chest—not hard. Just enough to make contact. Just enough to let it land.

“You ruined everything,” she sniffled. “I was normal before you.”

Seungmin looked stunned. But only for a second. His gaze softened again, this time with something more tender. More knowing.

And without saying a word, he reached forward.

His arms came around her—gently, carefully—as if afraid to shatter the fragile thing she’d become. He pulled her close, his hand settling at the back of her head, and whispered by her ear with a voice so soft it barely counted as sound.

“Stop looking so adorable like that,” he murmured.

Lina’s breath hitched. There was silence.

Then—

“It makes me want to kiss you.”

Her entire body froze.

The breath she had been holding escaped in a soft, trembling shiver.

She slowly pulled back from the hug, her tear-stained face lifting to meet his. Her lashes wet, her lips parted just slightly. Her gaze held something different now—no longer denial.

Just quiet acceptance.

And something even deeper.

“Then do it,” she whispered.

There was no challenge in her voice. No teasing. No coyness. Just the raw, pleading honesty of someone who had stopped fighting the truth.

Her eyes were soft. Her voice even softer.

She was finally, finally letting herself feel it.

[leeknowsnot]

CHAPTER 32 — Don't Ask

The hallway was dim—just enough light spilling from the overheads to outline the concrete walls and worn floors. Seungmin opened his door slowly, careful not to make it creak, and stepped out.

The air was cool, the kind that settles on your skin and reminds you you’re still alive. His shoulder ached beneath the hoodie, the ice pack long forgotten on his nightstand. His body hurt—but the stillness in his chest was worse. He had learned to live through the bruises. It was the silences he never quite got used to.

Then he saw her.

Lina.

She stood just outside her unit, leaning against the wall the exact way he used to. The sight made him pause, if only for the strange, bittersweet symmetry of it. Her head turned when she heard the door, and in her hand—oddly—was an apple.

Seungmin blinked.

An apple.

Of all things.

A grin curled lazily onto his face, dry and sarcastic but fond.

“Are you holding that for dramatic effect, or is it just your prop for tonight?”

Lina rolled her eyes, not even attempting to mask her amusement. “I was going to eat it,” she muttered. “Soojin’s been nagging me to eat fruits. Something about vitamins and daily sugar levels.”

She looked away, trying to focus on anything that wasn’t him. But the corners of her lips tugged upward anyway. She was thankful—so thankful—that she had just finished removing her makeup when his message came. She had spent the evening deciding whether to touch up or not, if she’d wear something slightly nicer in case she bumped into someone. In case she bumped into him.

Funny, wasn’t it?

She liked this boy—liked him so much it made her stomach twist—but she still felt like she couldn’t show him the version of herself she had tried to become for him. The one with eyeliner, with gloss, with confidence. It felt… off. Like she’d be showing up in someone else’s shoes.

So tonight, she had wiped it all away. 'Not yet,' she thought.

And yet, here he was.

Still looking at her like she was worth something.

Seungmin started walking first, shoving his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, and Lina followed a beat later, catching up to his side. The two of them walked in step without speaking, the only sounds their sneakers brushing pavement and the soft rustle of the apple rolling between Lina’s fingers.

The silence should’ve been awkward.

It wasn’t.

There was something strangely comfortable about it—like an inside joke neither of them had to explain.

They didn’t look at each other directly. But they glanced.

From the corners of their eyes, over and over, two magnets circling the edges of connection.

Seungmin was the first to speak.

“So,” he said, voice low, thoughtful, “how have you been lately? Considering you’ve been speed-running the art of avoiding me after school… and after that museum trip.”

Lina arched an eyebrow, playing it cool. “I’ve been busy.”

He deadpanned and narrowed his eyes at her. “Midterms season ended last week. Barely any teachers gave out work this week. I checked.”

She scowled, staring ahead. “Okay, stalker.”

“I prefer the term ‘concerned schoolmate.’”

Lina looked to the side—specifically away from him. There was a tinge of guilt in her gut, but she refused to let it show. She didn’t want to tell him about the cheerleading tryouts. About the fact that she had made it. About how he’d see her anyway—on the field—wearing the uniform, cheering on a sport he bled for while her own heart tangled between beats and unspoken truths.

So she bit her tongue.

It wasn’t time yet.

Seungmin let the topic die in the breeze, that dry chuckle of his slipping through as he kicked a loose pebble with his shoe.

“You’re probably just busy with a boyfriend or something.”

Lina stopped walking for a half-second, blinking like someone had thrown cold water on her.

“What?” she scoffed, frowning. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Why not?” Seungmin teased, smirking sideways, but his voice was softer now—like he didn’t actually want an answer.

And Lina?

Lina was furious at him.

Not because he asked. But because he asked like that—with that crooked smile and unbothered tone, like the question didn’t mean anything. Like he hadn’t done a single thing to make her feel the way she did. Like he didn’t know what he did to her, what it meant to be pulled down into a hug while he slept, to wake up next to him, to see him stare at art with quiet reverence and still turn around and tease her.

'What the hell were you doing, Kim Seungmin, licking the sauce off your thumb after wiping it off the corner of my mouth?'

What was any of this?

The silence came again.

And this time, it wasn’t comfortable.

They walked a few more paces. Seungmin, to his credit, didn’t say anything else. He didn’t laugh. Didn’t nudge her or push the conversation further.

Truth was—he hadn’t wanted an answer.

He just wanted to hear her say it wasn’t someone else.

But when Lina stopped walking, Seungmin almost didn’t notice.

He took another step before turning, and when he did—his eyes landed on her.

She stood in the middle of the pathway, apple forgotten in her palm, fingers tightening around the hem of her hoodie like it anchored her to earth.

Her eyes locked with his.

And suddenly, there was no more space for banter. No room for teasing or sarcasm or sideways glances.

Only this.

Only her.

And the way she finally—finally—broke the stillness between them.

“Seungmin,” she said quietly, her voice not much more than a breath, “what are we?”

The night went still.

[leeknowsnot]

CHAPTER 31 — The Silence Between the Cracks

Fun fact: I'm already at Book 2 for this somewhere. It's just so annoying to post on tumblr because I have to manually type tags every time hhhh That's why I'm late on posting here every time.

The door shut behind him with a click so soft it barely echoed. He didn’t bother turning on the lights. The hallway glow from outside filtered in through the blinds just enough to show the contours of his small unit—the place he called home, though it rarely felt like one.

His bag landed with a muted thud against the wall. Same spot as always. There was a rhythm to everything—practice, pain, silence, repeat. His cleats were pulled off with tired feet, and he kicked them aside, his socks dragging faintly across the cold tile as he walked to the mirror.

Seungmin stared at his reflection.

Sweat clung to his skin in a sheen, already drying into salt. His eyes looked duller than usual. Shoulders slightly slumped, posture no longer crisp and upright like it used to be. His lips parted in a breath that didn’t come easy, and his brows pulled together faintly as he brought a hand up to his left shoulder.

He pressed into the joint with his fingertips.

A grimace.

A pinch.

The ache flared instantly, deep in the meat of the muscle—where it connected bone to bone in a place no one could see. He closed his eyes for a moment and pressed harder, as if digging into it might loosen the pain curled there like a fist.

It didn’t.

A sharp sting traveled down to his elbow. He shook his arm, then rolled the joint back, forward, again. It popped with a sickening crack. He hissed through his teeth.

Rotator cuffs were supposed to heal. That’s what he told himself after every practice. After every game. After every throw. After... 'that'.

They were just sore.

Just tired.

Just working a little harder than yesterday.

Just that.

Lies tasted a lot like hope when you repeated them often enough.

He made his way to the kitchenette, opened the mini freezer, and a plume of frost curled out toward him. Inside were rows of small ice packs—blue, hard, sealed in worn plastic. He picked one, slapped it once against his palm to soften it, and walked back to the edge of the bed.

He sat down slowly.

The mattress dipped, creaking faintly under his weight, and he leaned forward to place the ice pack against the sharp pain blossoming across his shoulder. The cold made him flinch, then relax, as though his body had been holding its breath.

No jokes.

No muttering.

No sarcasm.

Just a quiet, hollowed-out boy sitting alone in the dark.

His phone lit up on the bedside table, screen humming gently with a new message.

Mom

Please don’t do this, Seungmin. Come home to us. You have to stop this.

His throat tightened.

He didn’t touch the phone. He just stared.

The message stared back—three sentences that peeled him apart like paper soaked in water.

It wasn’t the first time she’d begged him. It wouldn’t be the last. But there was something about the timing of it. The way his arm ached so deeply tonight that it felt like a scream buried under skin. The way her words arrived just when the silence got loud enough to fill the whole room.

Seungmin’s eyes clouded, his jaw clenched. Not from anger.

From everything else.

He reached out and turned the screen off.

The light died. The words vanished.

But they echoed, anyway.

He let his gaze drift to the corner by the door.

His bat leaned there, quiet and still, the end of it scuffed from years of training. A baseball nestled beside it like a dog waiting for its master. They didn’t move, but they looked back at him. He could almost hear the familiar slap of glove on leather, the whistle of wind when the bat cut through air.

They always felt like freedom.

And yet they also felt like a promise he couldn’t keep.

Seungmin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, careful of the one that still sparked with pain. He rubbed a hand over his face—slow, dragging fingers over tired skin. The sigh that left him was long and quiet, too exhausted to sound broken even though it was.

He didn’t cry. He didn’t scream. He didn’t fall apart.

But something was slowly, inevitably eroding inside him. Like shoreline to the sea.

Minutes passed.

The ice pack numbed his skin but not the thoughts, not the guilt pressing down between each shoulder blade. He wondered what he would even say to his mother if he called her back. What kind of apology exists for willfully destroying yourself?

Then—

A faint sound outside.

A soft click of a door closing. Light footsteps in the hallway. Then silence again.

He knew that sound. Her sound.

Lina.

Her unit was just beside his. One wall. That was all. No words had passed between them lately, but somehow, her presence was always enough to stop the sinking.

He sat still, listening, letting the awareness of her existence still the worst of his own.

And just like that—he felt better.

Not healed. Not okay. But… less alone.

His fingers reached for the phone again before he could talk himself out of it. The screen lit, and this time, he didn’t hesitate.

Seungmin:

you up?

He hovered for a second, thumb hesitating.

Seungmin:

wanna go out for a walk? i think we haven’t caught up in a while.

He sent it.

No jokes. No teasing. Just plain, stripped-down honesty in lowercase letters.

And then he waited—his shoulder still wrapped in cold, his heart still heavier than he’d ever admit out loud. But now, with the faint hum of his phone in his hand and her door a wall away, he let the quiet settle again.

[leeknowsnot]

CHAPTER 30 — "We're not a thing"

The air in the gym was still electric with triumph. Breathless laughter echoed off the high ceilings as the four girls gathered in a tight circle, bouncing lightly on the balls of their feet, high-fiving like their lives depended on it.

Lina couldn’t stop smiling. Her cheeks ached from it, and she didn’t even care. The captain’s words still rang in her ears, “You guys are definitely in!” Her heart felt like it was wrapped in warm fleece.

And then—

“Before I forget!” The captain’s voice cut through the room like a drumbeat. Everyone fell silent. The clipboard under her arm slapped her thigh as she clapped once. “Everyone who made it through today’s tryouts will be officially listed in the cheerleading roster.”

More claps and cheers. Lina beamed again.

“…And you’ll be performing at the upcoming inter-school baseball game next weekend.”

Lina’s smile died faster than a bug under a flip-flop.

Her soul left her body. Her pupils dilated. Somewhere in the background, a girl let out a whoop of excitement, but Lina could barely hear anything past the roaring panic crashing into her ears.

It was THAT inter-school baseball game that Seungmin was busy with.

Her arms dropped limply to her sides.

Soojin, standing next to her, turned just in time to see the color drain from Lina’s face like someone pulled the plug on her entire cardiovascular system.

“Oh no,” Soojin whispered, delighted. “Oh noooo.”

Hana followed her gaze and immediately cracked up. “Lina, are you—what’s happening to your face?”

“I think she’s about to ascend,” Soojin offered. “Or combust. Not sure which yet.”

Yunjin, already packing her things for a teacher meeting, snorted and waved a hand in mock reassurance. “You’ll be fine, Lina. Don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m not being dramatic,” Lina croaked, “I’m being accurate. He’s going to see me. Doing—that. Dancing. In a skirt. Smiling voluntarily.”

⸻

Later, at the campus canteen.

The smell of deep-fried oil and sweet chili glaze clung to the air like perfume as the three girls slumped into their usual booth with metal trays balanced on their hands. Yunjin was off sweet-talking her way out of becoming some poor professor’s unpaid secretary, so it was just Lina, Soojin, and Hana now, basking in the post-tryout high… and Lina’s post-tryout meltdown.

Lina had her hoodie hood tugged almost fully over her face again, as if it would somehow shield her from the impending doom of baseball-themed exposure.

Soojin stabbed her fries with dramatic flair. “So, question. Where did the girl who did a perfect double-toe touch leap in front of three seniors go? I liked her. She had guts.”

“Adrenaline rush,” Lina grumbled from under her hood. “Temporary possession. Some spiritual thing. Definitely not me.”

Hana raised a brow. “You’re being a little… theatrical.”

“He’s going to see me, Hana. In uniform. With… pom-poms. That’s practically a personality reveal.”

“You’re acting like he’s going to see you naked on the jumbotron,” Soojin said around a mouthful of sweet potato stick. “Girl. Chill.”

“I am chill. I’m chilling so hard I’ve frozen into denial.”

While Lina sulked dramatically into her spaghetti, Soojin’s eyes casually flicked across the canteen. Then she did a double take. Her eyes sparkled.

“Well, well,” she sing-songed. “Looks like the boys of West Wing Dorm B are checking you out, Miss Lina.”

Lina paused mid-noodle slurp. “Huh?”

“Three o’clock. Brown hoodie, messy hair, clearly regretting his smoothie choice. He’s been glancing here for the past two minutes.”

Hana subtly leaned sideways to peek. “Ooh. He’s cute.”

Lina made a noise of despair. “No. No! I didn’t sign up for public attention. I just wanted to get slightly fit and not trip while dancing. Why is this happening?”

“Because,” Soojin said with pride, “you’re kind of hot now.”

“I AM NOT.”

“Sorry to break it to you,” Hana added, sipping her drink with a knowing look, “but the glow-up is real. And now Seungmin’s got competition.”

“He doesn’t feel that way,” Lina muttered automatically. “We’re not—he’s just—we’re not a thing.”

Soojin blinked. Then she froze. Slowly, her mouth stretched into an unsettling grin.

“Oh my god,” she whispered.

Lina immediately regretted opening her mouth and immediately knowing what Soojin was about to say. “No. No. Whatever you’re remembering—don’t.”

But Soojin wasn’t listening.

Her tray rattled as she clutched the edge. Her eyes sparkled. She squealed—squealed—so loudly that a freshman at the next table dropped his juice box.

“OH MY GOOOOD!”

Lina jolted. Hana nearly choked on her drink.

“What? What??” Hana asked excitedly, already giggling. “Tell me—what happened?”

Soojin started hitting Hana’s arm repeatedly, like she was trying to communicate in Morse code. Her feet kicked under the table as she leaned in, clutching her chest.

“I actually forgot about it until Lina brought that up,” Soojin hissed, eyes darting at Lina who looked like she was on the verge of cardiac arrest. “But then she said he doesn’t feel that way and remembered—like I’m just going to let that go!”

“Soojin, don’t—” Lina started, but it was too late.

Soojin had already huddled the three of them close, shielding her mouth like she was sharing nuclear launch codes.

“Last week,” she whispered, “evening. We ate dinner at some diner. Lina had tomato sauce on her lip from her spaghetti. Seungmin reached over. Wiped it off with his thumb. Then—then—he licked the sauce off his thumb like it was nothing.”

Silence.

Lina wanted to die. Immediately. Painfully. Repeatedly.

Hana’s jaw dropped. So hard and so fast, it made an audible pop.

“No. WAY.”

“YES. WAY.”

“LIKE—like a K-drama scene?”

“EXACTLY like a K-drama scene!!”

Lina buried her face in her hands, muffling a dying scream. “Why are you guys like this—”

“Oh my GOD,” Hana said, slapping the table, eyes huge and sparkly. “He WIPED HER MOUTH.”

“And LICKED HIS THUMB,” Soojin repeated with pride. “What regular friend does that?”

“An intimate friend,” Hana said dramatically. “A man with feelings.”

Lina’s face was redder than the spaghetti sauce in her bowl. “Can I please eat in peace without a dissertation on my accidental romance—”

“No.”

Both Soojin and Hana turned to her, utterly unimpressed.

“You have to face it,” Soojin declared. “Seungmin doesn’t just like you. He’s not just fond. He’s not just teasing you for fun. He WIPED. YOUR. FACE. That’s, like, man-code for I think about you before I sleep.”

“And dream about you during baseball practice,” Hana added helpfully.

“Stop—!” Lina squeaked, hiding behind her drink this time.

Soojin and Hana shared a look.

Then they both pounced — grabbing her arms, shaking her back and forth like rabid fangirls who had just cracked the code of a century-old secret romance.

“He liiiiiikes you!”

“He OBVIOUSLY likes you that way!”

Lina groaned into her sleeve, her laugh muffled by pure embarrassment, the sound mixing with her friends’ gleeful teasing.

[leeknowsnot]

CHAPTER 29 — Not Just Surviving but Belonging

It was a quiet Saturday afternoon, one of those rare weekends when campus felt hollow and the air moved slower — no ruckus outside her dorm window, no boys yelling about soccer or girls shrieking over whose iced latte was the wrong size. Just the faint hum of her desk fan and the soft scratching of Lina’s pen as she scribbled into her notebook.

She sat on the floor of her unit, legs folded beneath her in her usual spot, a glass of lemon water on one side and a roll of washi tape on the other to keep her pages from curling.

Across the page were lists, arrows, and small stick figures with captions like ‘half burpee’ and ‘Yunjin swore this wouldn’t kill me’.

Lina squinted at the doodle. “We’ll see about that.”

She sighed, leaning back with her arms outstretched, gaze drifting over the routine Yunjin had helped her plan just two days before — a stamina-focused regimen with a sprinkle of toning exercises that weren’t too punishing for beginners.

Of course, Lina had complained the whole time.

“Cardio was invented by demons,” she’d declared. Yunjin had laughed and countered, “Yeah, and demons have great legs.”

The corner of Lina’s lips tugged upward at the memory.

She stretched out her legs, feeling the pleasant ache from yesterday’s run with Hana. She was sore in places she didn’t even know could get sore — like her elbows. Who knew planks activated so many emotional and physical traumas at once?

Her eyes swept over the scattered items on the table: her phone, the light pink gloss she now wore out of habit, a stray bobby pin, and the round mirror that usually stayed flipped face-down.

Lina’s gaze lingered.

The mirror.

A simple, cheap thing with a white frame, usually hidden — not because it was broken, but because for years, she hadn’t cared to see her reflection twice. What was the point? Whether she was puffy-eyed from an all-nighter, oily from a humid afternoon, or just… plain, she’d long stopped expecting anything different to greet her in the glass.

But something compelled her today.

She reached for it slowly, thumb brushing the cool plastic edge. Then, gently — almost ceremonially — she flipped it upright and set it down, angled just right.

And there she was.

Her.

The girl who, not so long ago, barely ran a flight of stairs without collapsing like a Victorian widow. The girl who dodged mirrors like they held curses. The hoodie-wrapped hermit who didn’t want to be perceived, especially not by boys who batted balls and girls who batted lashes.

But now, in the mirror, she saw new things.

A soft sweep of daily makeup — subtle peach blush, mascara that curled her lashes ever so slightly, and the pink gloss Hana had said “tasted like expensive strawberries.” Her hair, no longer curtaining her face, was gently held back by a slate blue headband Soojin had nonchalantly tossed at her two weeks ago with the words, “Don’t make me trim your bangs while you’re asleep.”

She looked like herself.

Still her.

But better.

The puffiness hadn’t vanished, and she still had her rounded cheeks and wide forehead and her familiar nose that never quite sat straight in profile.

But she looked alive.

Bright-eyed. Awake. Present.

And for the first time in a long, long while — perhaps the first time ever — Lina smiled at her own reflection, not out of irony, not out of resignation, but out of something tender. Something proud.

“Not bad,” she whispered.

Then, she glanced at the wall to her left — the one she shared with Seungmin’s unit. A faint smile curled her lips, albeit differently this time. Wry. Quiet. Not unlike how she used to smile when he pestered her with snark and unsolicited snacks.

He didn’t know.

About the cheerleading tryouts. About the gradual bloom in her wardrobe. About the way her face now absorbed highlighter like it belonged there. About how she’d finally started giving a damn.

Probably because of baseball. She’d heard from Hana that there was another inter-school match coming up. He must’ve been buried in training, which explained the blissful silence and the lack of knocks on her door.

A small part of her was thankful for it.

It gave her space — to build herself up without worrying whether he was looking. She’d let him see, eventually.

But not yet.

She still wasn’t done.

⸻

Tryouts Day.

Lina stood in the locker room, her body swaddled in the familiar comfort of a hoodie three sizes too big — armor for now, for just a little longer.

She sat on the bench, uniform hidden in her gym bag, earphones in but music off, eyes fixed on the tile floor. Her legs bounced beneath her, jittery with anticipation.

She wasn’t alone, of course.

Hana, Soojin, and Yunjin flanked her — each in their own states of chaos. Yunjin was reciting their opening counts under her breath, lips moving rapidly like a panicked prayer. Hana was rolling out her shoulders like she was about to enter the Hunger Games. Soojin just laid flat on the bench and groaned.

“I’ll quit cheer if any of you don’t make it,” Soojin said, eyes shut. “Dead serious. I’ll fake an injury and limp out dramatically.”

“Let’s all fail together, then,” Yunjin said, half-laughing, half-gasping. “At least we’d go down as a unit.”

Lina chuckled despite herself. “Very encouraging, guys.”

Yunjin turned to them, suddenly solemn. “Hey. Seriously? Whatever happens, I’m already so proud of us.”

Hana nodded. “Me too. Especially you, Lina.”

Lina blinked. “Me?”

“You complained about cardio,” Hana said. “You literally threatened a treadmill.”

“You called a jump rope a ‘slithering demon string,’” Soojin chimed in.

“And yet you still showed up every single time,” Yunjin added, smiling softly.

Lina felt something twist in her chest — a quiet, overwhelming surge of warmth.

“…Thanks.”

⸻

When their names were called, Lina finally took off her hoodie.

The chill of the gymnasium bit at her arms, but the adrenaline dulled it. Her uniform clung lightly to her torso, not in a way that felt exposed — but purposeful. She stood a little straighter.

They took their positions on the polished floor, the overhead lights sharp and sterile.

And then…

Music.

They moved.

It started with the familiar beats — the ones they’d practiced in empty dance rooms and behind the bleachers. Lina’s arms moved in sync with the others, her counts silent but steady in her head.

Five, six, seven, eight.

Hana spun next to her. Soojin landed the hop-twist. Yunjin shouted their chant loud and clear. And Lina — Lina jumped just a little higher than she used to, arms sharp, legs strong. Her chest burned with breath, but she pushed through. Her body remembered every correction, every repetition, every drop of sweat they’d spilled as a group.

They hit their final pose, breathing hard.

Silence.

Lina’s pulse roared in her ears.

The cheer team captain, a senior with arms like steel cables and a ponytail sharp enough to slice glass, looked over her clipboard. Her gaze flicked across the four girls.

A nod toward Hana. Another toward Soojin. Then Yunjin. All three were trying — and failing — to mask their hopeful expressions.

Then she turned to Lina.

Lina felt her stomach coil. Her lungs screamed. This was the moment she hadn’t known she cared so much about until now.

Then—

“I like your energy,” the captain said suddenly, tapping the back of her pen toward Lina. “Keep that determined face up and we’ll have the other teams’ knees buckling.”

Lina’s eyes widened.

The captain turned to the room. “This is what cheerleading looks like, everyone. Cheerful, energetic, enthusiastic, determined — and delivering a message to the other team that we’ll crush them.”

Back to them.

“You guys are definitely in.”

There was a half-second delay before the realization hit — and then it exploded.

“WHAT—”

“OH MY GOD!”

Soojin slapped Lina on the shoulder. Hana jumped up and squealed. Yunjin clutched her face like she couldn’t believe what she’d heard.

Lina?

Lina just stood there — mouth open, stunned, eyes slightly watering.

And then, slowly, she laughed. Loud and unfiltered. Her chest eased. Her hands reached up to her face and covered her mouth as the joy hit her like sunshine cracking through storm clouds.

They high-fived. Hugged. Gripped each other’s hands in disbelief.

She did it.

They all did.

And for the first time in her life, Lina felt like she was meant to be on that floor. Not just surviving. Belonging.

[leeknowsnot]

CHAPTER 28 — "Maybe for Myself. Maybe for Him, too"

Saturdays were normally reserved for Lina’s two favorite hobbies: sleeping in until brunch was technically dinner, and hiding in oversized hoodies like a street-corner cryptid.

But not today.

Today, she found herself standing in the middle of a cosmetics aisle, surrounded by what felt like thousands of tiny square compacts, squeaky clean tester bottles, and shelves whispering spend money you don’t have. She squinted suspiciously at a product with the name “dewy blur”.

“…Blur what, exactly?” she asked, holding it up like it might detonate.

Soojin leaned over her shoulder, peered at the label, and snorted. “Your sins. It blurs your sins.”

“It blurs your pores, dummy,” Yunjin corrected, grabbing the bottle and putting it back neatly. “And your skin’s already nice. You just need a little help waking it up.”

“Waking it up?” Lina repeated. “It’s skin, not a college freshman.”

Hana ignored all of them and dragged her closer to the concealer rack. “Okay, hold still,” she said, squinting at Lina’s face like a fashion detective. “Hmm… neutral undertone… probably shade 23 or 25…”

“This feels like a medical consultation,” Lina muttered, though she didn’t protest when Hana gently dabbed a sample concealer on her jaw with a cotton swab.

Yunjin tilted her head critically. “That’s the one. Blends in pretty well.”

“It’s like we’re doing a science experiment,” Lina said, blinking at her reflection in the compact mirror. “But instead of curing diseases, we’re—”

“—fixing your under-eyes so you don’t look like you watched horror movies at 3AM again,” Hana finished with a smirk. “You’re welcome.”

They moved on to blush.

“This one makes you look like a peach fairy,” Soojin said dreamily, holding up a soft coral shade.

“This one makes you look like you got slapped by a sunset,” Yunjin added, holding a more pigmented pink.

“…What does this one do?” Lina asked, pointing to a neon orange one.

“Send you straight to clown school,” Hana deadpanned, swatting it away.

They eventually settled on a rose-toned blush that Yunjin swore made Lina look like she had “innocent thoughts, but could win a slap fight.”

Then came the moment of betrayal.

“What’s this?” Soojin asked, reaching into Lina’s tote bag and pulling out a tiny, battered tube of lip balm. The cap was half cracked and the logo had been rubbed off completely.

“Oh, that?” Lina’s eyes lit up fondly. “That’s my baby. Been with me since the start of high school.”

There was a moment of horrified silence.

“Since…?” Hana’s eye twitched.

Yunjin leaned in. “Wait. Since you were thirteen?”

“It still works!” Lina defended.

“That thing is older than my cousin!” Soojin cried.

“It’s basically a biohazard!” Yunjin shouted, snatching it and tossing it into the nearby trash bin like it was toxic waste.

“NOOOOO—!” Lina let out a dramatic gasp, throwing herself toward the bin with outstretched arms. “YOU MONSTERS!”

“It wasn’t a best friend,” Hana said, completely unfazed, inspecting a lip tint. “It was barely a friend. It didn’t even make your lips look fuller, and it was probably expired twice over.”

Lina clutched her chest. “You heartless wench. He’s in balm heaven now.”

“Let’s get her something she deserves,” Soojin said.

“Lip gloss that doesn’t smell like rubber soles,” Yunjin added cheerfully.

They picked out a sheer pink gloss that had actual shimmer flecks in it and left Lina blinking at her reflection again.

“…Why does my mouth look edible now?”

“Exactly,” Hana said, smug.

⸻

The next battlefield: the clothing store.

Lina’s feet dragged automatically toward the corner rack of discounted oversized hoodies, her fingers already brushing one labeled “MEN’S LARGE”.

Then she was grabbed by the collar and physically steered away.

“Nope,” Soojin said.

“Hoodies are banned today,” Yunjin chimed.

“Illegal,” Hana added.

“They’re so comfy though!”

“They’re also not an entire personality trait,” Hana said, dragging her toward the women’s section. “We’re building a new you, remember?”

Lina groaned but allowed herself to be pulled. She stood awkwardly as the other three ran around like energetic squirrels, throwing options at her: flowy blouses, pastel skirts, linen pants, a wrap dress, something with ruffles that she eyed like it might bite.

“No more neutral-only palette,” Yunjin announced. “We’re putting color in you.”

“I am color. I have emotional range. It’s just all under black.”

They ignored her.

Hana shoved a pale yellow dress into her arms. “Try this. It’ll make you look like you have joy in your life.”

In the end, Lina came out of the dressing room with a surprising find: a cream blouse with delicate lace sleeves, tucked into soft mauve slacks that hugged her hips without suffocating her. Her hair was loosely tied with a velvet ribbon they’d thrown in just for fun.

“…Whoa,” Yunjin said.

Soojin let out a low whistle. “Who are you and where’s Hoodie Goblin?”

“Wait, you actually have a waist?” Hana squinted. “Lina. Have you been hiding a body this whole time?”

Lina stared at her reflection, stunned. She didn’t look like a stranger — she looked like someone she could be. Someone she wanted to be.

Maybe for herself. Maybe for someone else, too.

She touched the lip gloss on her bottom lip and smiled.

⸻

They took a break at a quiet café tucked on the second floor of the shopping center. It had string lights hanging from the ceiling and mismatched mugs that made it feel like someone’s cozy living room.

They gathered around a corner booth, drinks and pastries on the table — iced matcha for Yunjin, a caramel latte for Soojin, strawberry ade for Hana, and Lina with a milk tea so sweet it could probably put someone in a coma.

“No wonder your taste in boys is like this,” Hana said, pointing at her drink.

“I don’t even have a boy,” Lina defended.

“Oh, sure,” Soojin said with a wink. “Not like you’ve been checking your phone every twenty minutes hoping for a Seungmin message.”

“I’m just…keeping an eye on the time,” Lina muttered, stirring her drink too fast.

“Girl, you put blush on for the first time today. We know,” Yunjin teased.

Lina covered her face with both hands and let out a groan. “I hate all of you.”

“You love us,” Soojin said smugly.

She didn’t deny it.

They moved on to other topics — gossip about a certain junior who confessed with a love poem that sounded like a ransom note, wild rumors about a teacher dating a swim coach, and eventually, webtoons.

“I haven’t read much lately,” Lina admitted, munching on her pastry. “What’s good?”

“Seasons of Moonlight is trending again,” Hana said. “The art’s so pretty.”

“I like Devil Roommate,” Yunjin said. “It’s dumb but it’s hot.”

“Dumb but hot is a genre?” Lina asked, amused.

“Of course,” Soojin said. “It’s also how I describe most of my exes.”

They all burst out laughing.

They spent another hour wandering around stores before ending up at a small booth selling handmade keychains. There were little animals, food items with faces, even stars with glitter resin. They picked matching designs — four miniature peaches with tiny grins, each holding a different item: a book, a lipstick, a cup of coffee, and a dumbbell.

“Look!” Yunjin squealed, tying hers onto her phone strap. “We’re fruit-coded besties!”

Lina tied hers on too, something warm and unspoken blooming quietly in her chest.

⸻

She had always been part of the group.

They had always welcomed her, even when she wore hoodies year-round and didn’t care about boys or makeup or the latest webtoons. They never made her feel like an outsider.

But today — today, for the first time, she felt like she was really in.

She giggled when they giggled. She looked at lip glosses without judgment. She teased and asked questions and felt heard.

She looked at the girls beside her and smiled.

'I want to be better,' she thought. 'Prettier, even. I want to try harder…'

She looked down at her phone, her peach keychain swaying gently against her fingers.

'Maybe for myself.'

'And maybe for him, too.'

[leeknowsnot]

CHAPTER 27 — Practice, Pom-Poms, and Pandemonium

There was a different kind of air in the gymnasium that day.

The sharp scent of polished wood and chalk dust lingered in the open space, bright lights flickering above as four figures gathered near the center court — a worn Bluetooth speaker sitting on a folded towel, pom-poms tossed nearby like loose glitter bombs.

“Okay, one last full run-through before the weekend,” Soojin said, tying her hair up into a ponytail. “We’re gonna nail it.”

“Let’s do it before Lina pretends she rolled an ankle again,” Hana teased with a playful smirk.

“Hey!” Lina retorted, her face scrunched up in mock offense, cheeks slightly pink. “That only happened once.”

“Twice,” Yunjin corrected.

“And you limped off with the wrong leg,” Soojin added with a laugh.

Lina narrowed her eyes. “Treason. All of you.”

But her voice was lighter than before. Gone was the disheartened girl who lagged behind every move, who rolled her eyes and mumbled complaints with every jump. There was something steadier in her now — a focus threaded into her brow, her body holding itself taller, her grip on the pompoms firm.

She adjusted her hoodie sleeves. “Let’s just do this.”

Yunjin pressed play.

The upbeat track blared through the speaker, sharp and relentless — the kind of music that demanded energy and endurance. They all moved into position.

And to everyone’s surprise, Lina kept up.

She counted her steps under her breath, brows furrowed but not out of frustration — out of determination. Her arms rose with intention, her steps more coordinated than chaotic, even as she stumbled once during a spin.

No complaining. No wheezing. No dramatic collapsing on the floor begging for water.

She didn’t just keep up — she was trying. Like she meant it.

Soojin caught the difference first and gave a small nod of approval mid-jump. Hana grinned. Yunjin beamed so wide she almost forgot her own routine.

“You’re actually not dying this time,” Soojin whispered during a break between segments.

“I’ve built immunity,” Lina muttered through heavy breaths. “To cardio. And to suffering.”

The others laughed.

But not everyone in the gym was smiling.

Near the bleachers, a group of girls — all decked in matching pastel sportswear and identical smug expressions — stood watching. Their arms crossed. Their eyes critical. Their mouths moving just fast enough for the poison to drip, but quiet enough not to draw the teacher’s attention.

Their whispers slithered across the gym floor.

“Ugh, they’re still at it.”

“Seriously, what’s the point? That group’s so uneven.”

“I mean look at them — three are fine, but that chubby one? What’s she even doing here?”

“She looks like she got lost on her way to the food court.”

Lina’s movement froze for the briefest second — an imperceptible twitch in her brow, a shift in her jaw. She kept her back to them. Forced her hands to stay steady.

But her silence was not submission.

Yunjin’s head turned sharply, eyes narrowing. Her fists clenched, teeth gritted. “What did you just say?”

Hana and Soojin turned too, their eyes darkening in tandem.

Yunjin stepped forward. “Say that again. I dare you.”

But before she could stomp her way across the gym floor, a hand gently touched her shoulder.

Lina.

Her smile was calm, almost sweet. “It’s okay.”

Yunjin looked at her like she’d grown three heads. “It’s not okay—”

“I said,” Lina repeated, a bit firmer this time, “it’s fine.”

Then she set her pom-poms down gently. Her hoodie swayed with her steps as she walked, slow and deliberate, toward the group of girls.

The gym fell into a hush.

Every bounce of her sneaker echoed, and the girls ahead of her straightened up, sensing the shift in the atmosphere — the same way prey senses the rustle in tall grass.

The one who’d spoken, a tall girl with red-tinted hair and a smug expression, crossed her arms.

“Oh? She’s walking now? Is this the dramatic comeback scene?”

Lina stopped right in front of her, tilting her head.

The smile she wore wasn’t kind. It was flat. Hollow. Just a polite façade stretched over something razor-sharp.

“You know,” Lina said slowly, voice quiet, “I was going to ignore you.”

The girl blinked, thrown off.

“But then I remembered,” Lina continued, taking a step closer, “I’m not that well-adjusted.”

And without warning—

WHOOSH.

Lina’s arm hooked around the girl’s neck in a tight lock, yanking her down with enough force to make the entire gymnasium erupt.

“WHAT THE—?!”

The girl shrieked as she stumbled, clawing at Lina’s arm.

“LINA, STOP—”

“LET HER GO!”

“OH MY GOD—”

The sound of squeaking shoes, running feet, and dropped phones filled the air.

Hana and Soojin were sprinting. Yunjin had already latched onto Lina’s waist, trying to yank her off.

“LINA, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

“She called me a walking food court!” Lina yelled back, still clinging to the girl like a furious koala.

The other girl’s friends screamed, trying to pull her free.

“Let go of me, you cow!” the girl screeched.

“Say that again, and I swear to God I’ll suplex you into 1952,” Lina snarled.

“LINA!”

FWWEEEEEEEEEET!!!

A loud, shrill whistle sliced through the chaos like a blade.

Mr. Hwan, the P.E. teacher, stomped into the middle of the mess with his eyes practically bulging out of his head.

“What in THE NAME OF OLYMPIC REGULATIONS is going on here?!”

⸻

Ten Minutes Later.

Both groups were seated on opposite benches like rival mafia families.

Lina had her arms crossed, hair slightly messy, a scratch on her wrist. The red-haired girl was dabbing at a barely-there tear with a tissue, glaring like she’d just been emotionally wronged by the world.

Mr. Hwan paced in front of them.

“You’re all high school seniors, not wrestling trainees! What is wrong with you?!”

“She started it,” Lina muttered.

“I don’t CARE who started it! This is a gym, not a war zone!”

Punishment was dealt — community clean-up duty for both parties and temporary bans from using the gym after hours.

As they exited, the red-haired girl shoved past Lina, shoulder bumping her hard. Her glare was venomous.

“You’re pathetic.”

Lina raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “You’re taller than me and still ended up in a headlock. Sounds like a you problem.”

The girl scoffed and stormed off.

Yunjin walked beside Lina, half-exasperated, half-impressed. “You’re insane. You know that?”

“She had it coming,” Lina muttered, rubbing her neck. “I was peaceful. Peaceful. I walked in like a lady.”

“You walked in like a bouncer at a K-pop bar fight,” Soojin deadpanned.

Hana couldn’t stop laughing. “That was the most you thing ever.”

“Hey,” Soojin added suddenly, nudging her. “You… really killed it earlier. During practice. That determination? You’ve improved a lot.”

Lina blinked.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, voice smaller now. “It’s because I… wanna be better. At stuff. For reasons.”

The three girls exchanged knowing smirks behind her back.

But Lina didn’t catch them.

She was too busy wondering whether Seungmin had heard about the chaos yet — and if he had, would he laugh?

Or would he secretly, quietly… be a little proud?

[leeknowsnot]

CHAPTER 26 — "I didn't say anything about love!"

The walk home was dipped in silence, but it wasn’t the awkward kind — not anymore.

The sky had turned a velvet blue, streetlamps flickering to life as if to guide them the rest of the way. Their footsteps echoed faintly along the pavement, steady and slow, the air light with the scent of distant street food and fresh evening breeze.

Seungmin walked with his hands in his pockets, gaze fixed forward, a lazy sort of calm etched into his face. Lina glanced at him every few seconds, only to snap her head away the moment he so much as breathed.

The hanbok was long returned, their clothes back to normal — but nothing quite felt as “normal” as before.

There was something in the quiet now. Not tension. Not nervousness.

Just… unspoken thoughts. Soft ones. Warm ones.

By the time they reached the front of their apartment building, Seungmin finally spoke, eyes still forward.

“You should go back to your unit tonight.”

Lina paused. The air hiccupped between them.

She looked down at her shoes, then nodded. “Yeah. I was… gonna say the same.”

Lie.

It was barely a beat, a sliver of hesitation, but Seungmin caught it.

He smiled anyway. “You’ve got your blanket and everything to reunite with.”

She snorted, a little embarrassed. “Right. My loyal comfort item.”

A brief pause.

“Night, Lina.”

“Night, Seungmin.”

And like clockwork, they both disappeared behind their own doors — leaving the other just a few steps too soon.

⸻

Lina stared at her room the moment she stepped inside.

It wasn’t messy, but it wasn’t neat either. The air was quiet. Too quiet. Not the same kind of quiet she felt in Seungmin’s unit — where the silence felt intentional, calm, lived-in. Her room just felt… empty.

She released a small, half-contented, half-deflated sigh. “Well. Back to loneliness, I guess.”

Her hand absently scratched her scalp as she turned on the lights and surveyed the minor chaos. Socks in a heap. Empty water bottle by her desk. One shoe missing. She puffed out her cheeks and exhaled, muttering to herself.

“Okay, maybe I was living in mild filth.”

With a sudden burst of motivation (read: shame), she began picking things up. Tossed her laundry into the hamper. Straightened her books. Reorganized her desk. Even arranged her skincare in color order.

“Thank you, Seungmin, for bullying me with your tidy lifestyle without even trying,” she muttered, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Eventually, with the room looking halfway like a Pinterest dorm post, she threw herself into bed, stretching her limbs like a starfish.

Her eyes had barely closed when—

ping.

She blinked. Rolled over. Reached for her phone.

[KakaoTalk: New Friend Request]

👤: Kim Seungmin has added you.

She stared at the notification for a good five seconds before her thumb hovered and finally tapped Accept.

Almost immediately, a new message popped up.

🐶 Seungmin: [4 images]

(Photos from the museum — one of a scroll, one of the teahouse corner, one of the ceiling lanterns, and one where he took a sneaky shot of their shadows while in hanbok, but cropped out any trace of her face.)

Lina smiled, warm but also amused.

“No pics of me, huh? Okay, Mr. Privacy Policy,” she whispered to herself.

In response, she scrolled through her gallery and picked a hand-drawn Jureumi sticker she’d made months ago — a goofy one where Jureumi was spinning in a bowl of rice, face flushed and dramatic.

🐰 Lina: [Sticker]

🐶 Seungmin: 😂

His reaction appeared instantly.

She bit her lip to stop the smile forming and then failed spectacularly.

When a “Good night” sticker arrived next — Jureumi wrapped in a blanket with tiny z’s over its head — her brain short-circuited for 0.7 seconds.

She stared at the screen, cheeks burning. Then, in full denial mode, she reached up and aggressively stretched the corners of her lips downward with her fingers.

“I am NOT smiling,” she mumbled as her cheeks betrayed her anyway. “This is… facial yoga. Very normal. Very adult.”

She huffed, tossed her phone on the bedside table like it offended her, then flopped back on the bed dramatically. Eyes up at the ceiling. Breathing uneven.

And then—

fwomp.

Pillow over her face.

“MMPHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

A muffled, high-pitched screech left her mouth. Her feet kicked the air, legs flailing like a dying squid as she flopped and rolled on her bed in full emotional malfunction.

She didn’t even know why. Just that everything was changing. Quietly. Subtly. Softly. Like petals shifting in wind.

⸻

Monday Morning.

Classroom 2-B was alive and buzzing with the usual chaos — the mix of caffeine breath and last-minute homework, tangled headphones, and perfume clouds by the vanity corner near the windows.

Hana, Soojin, and Yunjin stood in their usual territory, mid-retouch session. Soojin was applying lip tint with sniper-like precision. Hana was curling her bangs. Yunjin was squinting into her compact mirror while drawing on eyeliner like her life depended on it.

“What did you do this weekend?” Yunjin asked lazily, mid-wing.

“Spa day with my mom,” Soojin replied. “She guilt-tripped me into it and then stole my snail cream.”

“I rewatched that dating show again,” Hana added. “Episode seven still makes me scream. HOW is she still picking Jisoo when Minjae LITERALLY cooked for her parents?!”

Yunjin clicked her tongue. “Standards. In. The. Trash.”

And then—

SLAM.

The door burst open.

Lina stormed in.

Like a soldier charging into battle. Determination practically steaming off her body. Her hair slightly disheveled, backpack slung half-open, face intense.

The girls froze.

Yunjin blinked. “Um.”

Soojin looked concerned. “…Did you kill someone?”

Hana stepped back. “If this is a possession, blink twice.”

Lina marched over, slammed her bag down on a desk, and inhaled with the force of a thousand suns. Her eyebrows were furrowed. She looked terrifying. And yet somehow… flushed?

She pointed a finger at them. Shakily.

“I need to know how to do makeup properly. And how to dress. Pretty. You know. Like you guys.”

Dead. Silence.

The three of them just stared.

And then—

Soojin gasped so dramatically she almost dropped her lip tint.

Yunjin smacked Hana on the arm like they’d just witnessed a K-drama twist.

Hana clasped her hands to her chest, eyes glinting with something unholy.

“WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO LINA?” Hana shrieked.

“I KNEW IT,” Soojin cried. “I knew something was up the moment you walked in smiling like a Disney side character who just discovered love—”

“I didn’t say anything about love!” Lina protested immediately, voice squeaky.

“YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO!” all three said in unison.

And that’s where the morning ended.

With Lina cornered by three girls squealing with excitement, interrogating her like the FBI, as the classroom bustled and the school bell loomed, and her world — gently, delightfully — began to shift.

Again.

[leeknowsnot]

CHAPTER 25 — The Things We Inherit

It began with marble floors and vaulted ceilings.

The museum was far from crowded, the late morning hour offering a quiet hush to the space, disturbed only by the distant echo of schoolchildren’s laughter and the occasional squeak of sneakers on polished tile. As they stepped past the ticketing counter and into the first exhibit hall, Lina felt something in her shoulders loosen — an exhale she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Her eyes scanned the wide, open room — glass cases illuminated with soft lighting, placards in multiple languages, intricate pieces suspended as though time had crystallized them mid-story.

“Whoa,” she breathed, her voice small in the grandness of it all.

Beside her, Seungmin slipped his hands into his pockets and looked sideways. “You’re impressed already?”

She didn’t even glance at him. “It’s… the atmosphere. The scent. The silence. Like a library, but with bones.”

Seungmin raised a brow. “Romantic.”

Lina smiled faintly, the corners of her lips twitching. “You know what I mean.”

They started at the international exhibits, tracing timelines through the rise and fall of empires. Egyptian gold. Greek pottery. Japanese scrolls. Persian maps. Lina’s fascination was palpable — her eyes moving with reverence, taking in the details like they were whispered secrets.

“It’s kind of crazy,” she murmured, standing before a Roman mosaic. “How so many people lived and died in ways we only read about now. Like we borrow their names but never quite know the feel of their lives.”

Seungmin watched her quietly. “You’ve always liked history?”

She shrugged. “It makes me feel small. But in a good way.”

The next hallway shimmered with lantern light.

Local History, the arch read.

The ceiling dipped lower, the light dimmer — a softer tone overtaking the space. The hum of chatter dwindled, replaced by a quiet reverence as visitors stepped into a realm that felt more personal. More familiar.

Lina’s feet slowed, eyes narrowing in fond recognition. The scent of hanji paper and old wood surrounded them. A traditional instrumental version of an old pansori piece filtered faintly from the hidden speakers above.

And there, tucked in the corner near a diorama of an old Joseon courtyard, was a hanbok rental booth.

Lina’s eyes widened.

“Ooh—” she grabbed Seungmin’s wrist before he could even blink.

He blinked. “Wait, what are you—”

“We are so borrowing those,” she beamed, pulling him toward the stand.

The booth was lined with carefully pressed hanbok in rows of soft pastels and bolder traditional hues. Lina’s fingers skimmed across the fabrics with familiarity — a light pink jeogori and white skirt catching her attention immediately. Her smile faltered a little as she ran her fingers over the collar.

“I used to wear these,” she said quietly. “Back home. Before I moved to Seoul. Festivals, school performances… family stuff.”

Seungmin’s expression softened. “You don’t sound like you’ve worn one in a while.”

She shook her head. “Feels like another life.”

Seungmin hummed, eyes scanning the rack beside her. He pulled out a light pink jeogori with white sleeves, paired with light purple baji and a simple black waist tie. He tilted it toward her.

“Matching?”

Lina laughed, embarrassed but unable to hide the delight behind her eyes. “You would pick that.”

“I’m committing,” he said solemnly. “To the bit.”

They parted for the changing rooms.

Lina emerged first, smoothing her skirt and adjusting the ribbon at her side. She twirled slightly in the mirror, smiling at the way the fabric floated around her knees like petals.

When Seungmin stepped out moments later, she stopped mid-spin.

Her eyes landed on him — the delicate lines of the jeogori making him look taller somehow, his dark hair framing his face in soft contrast. He fidgeted with the sleeves, clearly unsure how to feel in the traditional layers.

But he looked…

Beautiful.

Lina blinked. Looked away. Looked anywhere else.

Seungmin caught her expression and smirked.

“You look cute,” he said, deadpan.

She rolled her eyes to hide the heat in her cheeks. “Shut up. You look like a historical drama lead who got lost on the way to set.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The museum felt different now.

Wearing hanbok, they drew attention — but the good kind. Older couples smiled fondly as they passed. Some whispered to each other, not too quietly.

“Aren’t they sweet?”

“Look at that. Not many young ones wear it seriously anymore.”

“They make such a nice couple.”

Lina’s face went scarlet.

“We’re not a couple,” she hissed under her breath.

Seungmin just chuckled, whispering smugly, “You’re red.”

“You’re smug.”

“You are cute though.”

She kicked the side of his foot. Lightly.

⸻

Eventually, they stumbled upon the museum’s mock teahouse — an immersive exhibit modeled after a traditional home’s inner courtyard. Low wooden tables, paper walls, floor cushions. It was quiet here, separated from the larger halls. A few visitors lingered, sipping samples of barley tea.

Seungmin led her to one of the low tables and flopped dramatically onto a cushion.

“I have returned from the market,” he declared in an exaggerated sageuk voice, sitting upright. “Wife, I bring you news of our trade fortunes.”

Lina raised a brow, trying not to laugh. “Oh? And where were you when our child refused to nap and threw pickled radish at the neighbors?”

Seungmin gasped. “You’re blaming me for the baby’s behavior now?”

“You named him after your loudest uncle.”

“He is a strong name-sake!”

They both broke into laughter, doubling over as the imagined domestic chaos played out in their mock-historical household. A few bystanders nearby chuckled along, entertained by the impromptu drama.

Lina wiped at her eyes, still smiling.

She looked around — the amber light of the teahouse, the sound of slow footsteps on wooden floor, the weight of the hanbok’s sleeves, and the warmth of Seungmin’s grin across from her.

Something in her chest ached.

Not with pain.

But with something else. Something deeper.

Something that told her this — this — would be etched into her memory forever.

A soft, surprising happiness.

A moment that felt real.

[leeknowsnot]

CHAPTER 24 — A Sense of Home

Sunlight peeked through the curtains, brushing gold across the room’s edges — soft and warm, like fingertips on bare skin.

Lina stirred.

Her brows knit slightly as the unfamiliar scent of clean linen and woodsy cologne filled her nose. Her body shifted instinctively before her thoughts caught up.

This… wasn’t her room.

She blinked groggily, her eyes adjusting to the soft light and the shape of unfamiliar furniture — the neat shelf, the microwave, the single chair at the desk, the faint hum of the tiny fridge beside the wall.

Oh.

Right.

Last night.

It all came rushing back, slow and hazy — her tear-stained cheeks, the way she’d clung to Seungmin, the way he’d held her without a second thought. No teasing, no questions, just warmth. Just him.

Her stomach twisted at the memory. Not from embarrassment, exactly. Not the way she usually berated herself for being vulnerable.

Just…

A tight knot of conflicted things.

But she didn’t entirely regret it this time.

Her fingers lightly brushed her face, checking for puffiness, and she let out a small sigh. Better now. Nothing a splash of water and a firm scolding of herself wouldn’t fix.

She turned slightly and peeked over the edge of the bed.

Seungmin was still asleep on the floor.

He lay on his side, his face pillowed on one arm, the blanket tangled loosely over his waist. His lips were slightly parted, hair a little messy from sleep, his brow relaxed and gentle in the early light.

Lina stared for a moment longer than she probably should have.

Then slowly — very slowly — she shifted to her knees and crawled across the bed with painstaking quiet. She carefully slid toward the edge, tiptoeing with her arms and knees like a guilty cat.

Almost there.

Almost—

A hand.

Warm fingers suddenly wrapped around her wrist.

She gasped — actually gasped — and before she could even react, Seungmin tugged her downwards the floor with the effortless strength of someone still half-asleep, dragging her off balance.

She tumbled forward with a yelp muffled against fabric — right into his chest.

Her hands caught at his shirt, and her cheek pressed against the solid warmth of his body as he murmured something low and slurred by sleep.

“…Trying to do a sleep-and-run?” he mumbled, voice deep and husky and rumpled by dreams.

She froze, breath caught halfway in her throat.

Seungmin shifted beneath her and wrapped an arm lazily around her head, tucking her face into the crook of his neck as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Like this happened every morning.

He smelled like shampoo and sleep and him.

“We can sleep in,” he murmured, nuzzling the top of her head like a cat. “It’s the weekend…”

Lina’s eyes went wide. Absolutely not. This can’t be real.

Her body refused to move. She wasn’t even sure she was breathing.

But her fingers gripped the hem of his shirt, just a little.

She didn’t know what came over her.

But she stayed.

And just barely — just barely — she tilted her face and nuzzled into his neck. Her breath hitched. Her skin flushed.

'What the heck is this?' she thought.

But her body relaxed, and the warmth of his arms didn’t feel foreign anymore.

Before long, she slipped back into sleep.

⸻

When Lina next opened her eyes, it was the faint sound of running water that woke her.

The space beside her was empty.

Her arms no longer wrapped around anything but pillow and blanket.

She blinked blearily, adjusting to the light. Then she heard the bathroom door open.

She almost turned her head.

And then she froze.

Seungmin stepped out of the bathroom, towel slung around his waist, hair still dripping slightly from the shower. His skin glowed faintly from steam, his body lean and toned from years of baseball — nothing excessive, but enough to make her brain promptly shut down.

He stretched his arms with a soft groan and walked toward his drawers, completely unaware.

Lina’s face turned crimson. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for death.

She hadn’t seen everything, but oh my god she had seen enough.

She bit her bottom lip and kept her breathing slow and even. Pretending to be asleep never required this much skill before.

She heard him shuffle around, the rustle of fabric, the soft thud of the drawer closing, and eventually, the sound of his footfalls approaching her.

He crouched.

Lina kept her eyes shut and held perfectly still.

Then—

Poke.

His finger gently pressed into her cheek.

“Hey,” Seungmin said, voice soft and cheerful. “I know you’re awake now.”

She cracked one eye open, playing her part half-heartedly.

He smiled, warm and wide, dimples peeking.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” he said. “I’ve got plans for us today.”

Lina blinked slowly, feigning confusion.

“…Plans?”

Seungmin leaned back onto his heels, grinning like he was about to reveal something big. “Yep. I’m taking you out. Museum day.”

Lina blinked again. “Museum?”

He nodded proudly. “You looked like you needed some beauty in your life.”

Her heart hiccupped. It was almost unfair how casual he made it sound.

Lina stared at him for a second, then buried her face into the pillow with a groan, muffling something about him being annoying and attractive and far too smug for someone who just ruined her emotional defenses by holding her all night.

Seungmin laughed.

But even in that laugh — she could hear it.

Affection. Care. A quiet sense of home.

[leeknowsnot]

CHAPTER 23 — Quiet Things

Lina had never been inside Seungmin’s unit before.

She wasn’t sure what she expected — maybe something messy and chaotic, the usual kind of space boys didn’t bother to clean unless they were expecting guests.

But stepping inside, she paused.

It was… neat. Surprisingly neat. Minimalistic. Clean.

Bare, even.

Her eyes moved slowly over the room as Seungmin toed off his shoes behind her, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish look on his face.

“Welcome to my humble kingdom,” he mumbled.

There wasn’t much to look at — just the essentials.

A modest bed tucked against the wall, neatly made. A single desk pushed to the corner with nothing on it but a folded school jacket. A baseball bat and a ball leaned together near the door. A few pairs of shoes were lined up beside a low shelf that seemed more practical than decorative. A small rack with his school uniforms and a couple of hoodies. A microwave, a blender, and a small fridge made up the entire kitchen. That was it.

No posters. No clutter. No chaos.

It even… smelled nice.

Crisp linen, something faintly woodsy. Like laundry detergent and a trace of the cologne he sometimes wore.

It was, embarrassingly, tidier than her place.

Lina blinked, slightly stunned.

Seungmin caught her lingering glance toward his counter.

“I don’t have a stove,” he offered quickly, like he could read her mind. “I don’t cook. I mean… I can’t cook.”

That made Lina’s lips twitch, just barely. She was still sniffling faintly, the residue of her earlier breakdown leaving her eyes glassy and her expression soft, vulnerable in a way she rarely let anyone see.

Seungmin watched her for a moment, then walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, bouncing slightly with the movement. He looked up at her and gently tugged her forward by the wrist.

“Come here.”

She didn’t resist. Her knees met the edge of the mattress, but she stayed standing, looking down at him.

Silence returned — the quiet kind that wrapped around them like another blanket.

Then, as if trying to lighten the heaviness that hung in the air, Seungmin looked up at her, eyebrows lifted playfully.

“…You do know you still need to shower, right?” he said. “You’ll have to go back next door.”

Lina’s brows furrowed slightly, and her voice came out low and dull, barely more than a whisper.

“I don’t want to go back.”

She didn’t add not yet. She didn’t have to.

Seungmin’s teasing smile faltered.

He looked at her for a beat, searching her face, then sighed softly through his nose and nodded. He stood, padded over to his closet, and pulled out a few clean pieces of clothing — a shirt, some drawstring shorts.

“Here,” he murmured. “You can use my bathroom. It’s just through here.”

He didn’t wait for her to answer. He led her to the bathroom and pushed the door open, then stepped aside, not once looking at her in a way that would make her feel self-conscious.

“I’ll be out here,” he said, closing the door behind her with a gentle click.

⸻

Lina emerged a while later, hair still slightly damp, skin scrubbed clean, her face warm and shy as she waddled over in Seungmin’s oversized shirt that fell mid-thigh. The hem of his shorts peeked out beneath, the waistband cinched tightly.

Seungmin, now changed into a comfortable T-shirt and joggers, glanced up from where he was adjusting the pillow on the floor.

And froze.

For the first time all night, he was the one at a loss.

He cleared his throat and looked away, ears tinged faintly red. “Uh… right. That shirt’s from middle school so it should fit you like a tent.”

Lina gave him a quiet look, unsure whether to laugh or hide.

She chose neither, simply crossing the room with slow steps until she stood near the foot of the bed.

“I’ll take the floor,” Seungmin offered quickly, still flustered. “You can have the bed.”

He began arranging a blanket on the floor beside the mattress, moving efficiently, carefully — probably just to give himself something to do.

But as he reached to adjust a pillow, he felt it — her presence close behind him.

And then.

The weight of her head, gently resting on his back.

Seungmin went still.

Absolutely. Completely. Still.

His fingers froze on the edge of the pillow. His breath caught in his throat. His eyes fluttered shut.

You can’t be doing this to me right now, he thought, squeezing his eyes tighter.

He inhaled deeply, his shoulders rising, then exhaled slowly through his nose, grounding himself.

After a moment, he turned.

Not too fast. Not too slow.

His hands found her shoulders, light as a whisper, and he guided her gently back toward the bed. She let him.

He helped her sit first, then climbed onto the floor again, resuming his spot. He tucked the blanket around himself with practiced ease, settling in like he did this every night.

But his eyes found her again — already lying on her side, facing him. Her lashes rested delicately against her cheeks. Her breathing had evened out, soft and steady.

She was already asleep.

And Seungmin couldn’t look away.

He leaned his arms against the edge of the bed, resting his chin on the back of his hand. His other hand lay loosely over the mattress, not touching her, but close enough that he could feel the heat of her presence.

His gaze softened.

There was no sarcasm on her face now. No teasing smirk. Just peace. Just the faintest crease between her brows, like even in sleep, she was unsure how to relax.

But she’d come to him.

And she was here now.

Seungmin let his eyes linger just a little longer.

His voice didn’t dare break the quiet — but his heart spoke loud enough.

I really do like you.

[leeknowsnot]

CHAPTER 22 — "Stay"

Lina didn’t move.

Not even as Seungmin’s arms wrapped around her with surprising certainty — no hesitation, no nerves. Just quiet, wordless longing.

His breath was steady against the crown of her head, chest rising and falling in a rhythm so calm it almost infuriated her.

Because she wasn’t calm.

Her breath came in ragged little puffs, each inhale catching on something sharp in her throat. Her heart was pounding hard — not just from the suddenness of his embrace, but from everything she’d kept buried over the past two weeks. Every excuse. Every secret. Every skipped walk home that chipped away at what they used to be.

And now here she was, standing still as a statue in the arms of the boy she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about — and she hated it.

She hated how warm he felt.

She hated that his hold was secure and gentle, like he’d been waiting to do this for a while — and like he’d be fine never letting go.

She hated how her body wanted to lean in, even when her pride screamed no.

She hated that her eyes burned, stinging with tears she couldn’t blink away fast enough.

Her hands trembled at her sides.

She gritted her teeth.

Then her vision blurred.

She bit her lower lip until it stung, but it was too late — a single tear slid down her cheek, trailing heat behind it. Her face crumpled. Her throat tightened. And then the gasps started — soft and broken, one after another.

She hated this.

Hated him for making her feel like this. Hated how easily his presence undid all her walls. Hated how hard she was falling and how hard she was trying to pretend she wasn’t.

Her hands slowly rose, uncertain — like she was touching something too fragile to hold — and wrapped around his waist.

The contact made something in Seungmin shift.

She buried her forehead into his chest, shoulders shaking.

“I hate you,” she whispered, voice so soft it barely reached him.

And yet he smiled.

Not out of amusement, but something quieter. Sadder. A kind of affection reserved only for someone who you knew didn’t mean it — someone who hurt because they cared too much.

He didn’t say anything. Just held her.

Let her cry.

Let her breathe.

Let her fall apart, for once, without judgment.

Time lost all meaning. She didn’t know how long they stood there, but when her breathing finally slowed and her body stopped trembling, she pulled away first — only slightly.

And Seungmin, ever gentle, followed suit.

His hands moved to cup her cheeks, but Lina instinctively turned her face away.

“Hey,” he murmured, coaxing her back to face him.

She let him, reluctantly.

Her cheeks were streaked with tears, eyes glassy and red. A faint frown still lingered on her lips, as if vulnerability physically hurt her. Her hair was mussed, and her entire expression screamed I-didn’t-want-you-to-see-me-like-this.

Seungmin’s heart twisted.

He brushed her tears away with the pads of his thumbs, warm and slow.

“You’re such a snotty-faced crybaby,” he said, his tone featherlight. “Still cute, though.”

Lina let out a strangled scoff, somewhere between mortified and offended. Her hand rose to lightly smack his shoulder.

“Screw you,” she muttered under her breath.

He laughed — a low, rich sound that settled into the quiet like a balm.

“Come on,” he said, his voice back to that soft cadence. “You should get some rest.”

He stepped toward her door, gently guiding her with a hand at her back.

But Lina didn’t move.

“…No,” she whispered.

Seungmin turned back, confused. “What?”

She bit her lip again, eyes flicking away. Her voice came out barely above a breath:

“Can I… Can I stay with you tonight?”

The world stopped.

It froze.

Seungmin stared at her, the words echoing over and over in his ears as if he’d misheard her. But her face said everything.

She was serious.

Serious — and shy.

Serious — and scared.

Her brows were slightly drawn, eyes pleading but cautious. She was nervous, fidgety, trying her best not to shrink into herself. Her fingers clutched the edge of her sleeve. Her voice had barely returned to her after crying — and yet she was using it to ask him that.

And it broke him in the softest way.

“…What?” he said again, this time lower, dazed.

Lina couldn’t look at him. “Just… for tonight. Just to… I don’t want to be alone.”

She swallowed hard, the admission making her ears flush bright pink.

Seungmin’s throat went dry.

[leeknowsnot]

CHAPTER 21 — "A Step Behind"

The night air outside the diner was cool and quiet, heavy with the scent of sizzling oil and faint traces of car exhaust. Streetlights buzzed softly overhead as the three of them stepped out onto the pavement, their footsteps oddly loud on the sidewalk.

But none of them were really speaking.

An awkward cloud trailed behind them like a fog — not quite suffocating, but undeniably there. Soojin shifted her bag up her shoulder, eyes flickering between the two walking beside her. Her lips were pressed together tightly in an effort not to smile — too much.

“Alrighty,” she finally said, clapping her hands once. “Guess I’ll go this way.”

She turned toward a side street, but not before pausing and leaning just slightly toward Lina. Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she leaned in closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper only Lina could catch:

“Tell me everything later.”

The words came with a pointed, suggestive look — the kind only best friends know how to deliver. Then she winked and spun on her heel before either of them could say a word.

Lina stood there blinking, cheeks warm again, lips slightly parted in protest. But Soojin was already gone, her quick footsteps fading down the sidewalk.

Which left just the two of them.

Lina didn’t dare look up at Seungmin immediately. She kept her hands buried in her sleeves, fingers toying with loose threads. She could feel him there beside her — just like she could still feel the ghost of his thumb against her lip.

A glance from the corner of her eye confirmed he hadn’t moved yet. He was just looking ahead, his posture relaxed, but quiet. Still.

Then he sighed softly and started walking.

“I’m not waiting for you if you stay behind,” he said over his shoulder.

His voice wasn’t cold. It wasn’t teasing either. Just… neutral.

And that made her heart twist in a strange, guilty knot.

Lina quickly unglued herself from the sidewalk and fell into step a few paces behind him. Their steps echoed off the dark pavement, the only soundtrack to their silent return. Seungmin walked at a steady rhythm — not too fast, not slow enough to be waiting. He looked around occasionally at storefronts and lit-up windows, his hands tucked in his pockets.

But he didn’t speak.

And Lina couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed by that.

Should she bring it up? Ask him? Say something about the moment in the diner — about the way he’d looked at her, touched her, like it wasn’t even a thing?

Her mouth parted once, twice… and then closed again.

No. She couldn’t.

She chose silence. Again.

By the time they reached the familiar corner that led into their building complex, her stomach was in knots. Her thoughts were an endless loop of Should I have said something? and What did it mean? and Why is he acting so normal now?

The silence stretched again as they reached their floor — two doors side by side, the usual view. Seungmin fished his keys out of his pocket and stepped toward his door, already opening it.

“Night,” he said casually.

Lina stood frozen, watching the way the light from his doorway spilled across the hallway tiles. Something about the finality of it — of him walking in, of her not saying a word — hit her harder than expected.

Her hand moved before her thoughts could catch up.

She reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket.

“Wait.”

Her voice was quiet. Barely more than a whisper.

Seungmin stopped mid-step, turning slightly to look back. Her hand still held onto his sleeve, fingers clutching it tightly.

She was biting her lower lip, eyebrows furrowed, her eyes cast downward. Her grip on his sleeve wasn’t desperate, but it was hesitant — soft and unsure. Like she didn’t know if she was allowed to hold on.

And Seungmin…

He just stared at her for a moment.

She looked so—damn—cute.

Flustered. Nervous. The kind of adorably vulnerable that made his chest twist in places he didn’t have names for.

His jaw clenched slightly, and for once, he didn’t think twice.

He let his intrusive thoughts win.

He turned fully and pulled her into his arms.

Lina let out a startled gasp, her hands pressed to his chest, eyes wide. Her body tensed in reflex, unsure what was happening — what this was.

But Seungmin didn’t speak right away.

He just held her.

His arms wrapped around her with quiet finality, his chin resting softly beside her ear. Her heart beat wildly against him, and he could feel her trembling.

His eyes slipped shut.

God, he’d missed her.

The sound of her voice. The bickering. The way she always looked at him like she knew something he didn’t. The weird way she kicked her legs when she was annoyed, the way she scrunched her nose at spicy food, the way she always turned her head slightly to listen when he talked, even if she was pretending not to care.

He breathed her in, let the closeness fill something that had been hollow for the past two weeks.

Then, his lips brushed close — not touching, just hovering — by her ear.

And in a voice velvet-soft and low, he whispered:

“I missed you so much, you have no idea.”

Lina froze completely.

Her thoughts blanked. Her throat went dry.

And her heart?

It soared.