If I Say I Cannot Shut My Mouth. I Mean It. . I Cannot Sleep So I Am Having The Temptation To Announce

If I say I cannot shut my mouth. I mean it. 🥰. I cannot sleep so I am having the temptation to announce our little secret to the whole world-

NOOOOOOO. NO??!!!! ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ 😭😭😭😭😭

Resist temptation

six days of us

six days of a love story. from its beginning to its end.

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pairing // kim taerae x fem! reader; other characters mentioned are hanbin and kim chaehyun on the readers side, and junhyeon and matthew on taerae’s!

genre // fluff & angst; university student! au; he fell first, she fell harder-ish; it’s based on six selected day6 songs!

word count // 14.5 k

tw // not too sure, insecurities in one’s own feelings but if there are any more lmk!

playlist // here (i recommend listening in order but i can't really tell you what to do so! have fun!)

author’s note // i‘m back!! so sorry it took so long but i genuinely loved writing this! it was so much fun, i tried to keep it kind of realistic but it’s been a while since my last relationship so i’m not too sure i succeeded lol! anyways i hope you enjoy reading and that it was worth the wait!

!!! reminder !!! everything i write about on here is entirely fictional and in no way am i saying this is how the people mentioned would act in real life! it’s all just pretend! ♡

How come when the skies turn grey, heavy clouds like curtains keeping out the light, we forget the vivid of the blue, the warmth of sun? How come when the winter months set in and the trees stand bare, we forget the rustle of the leaves as the summer wind hums the tune to July? How come when a person enters our lives, we cannot imagine our life not knowing them? But how come, once the same person leaves, everything reminds us of them, like a ghost coming back to haunt us, to remind us of what could have been?

1. hi hello

The smell of coffee, polite smiles, and the morning rush. It was usually around May when you noticed that the hot chocolates turned into iced americanos. An established tradition for your co-workers and you, was to buy the drink for the first customer who ordered it iced. A welcome to summer, a deed to make someone smile. Of course, the lot of you usually ended up giving out more than one free drink, not only because of miscommunications, but mostly because it seemed like the right thing to do. Thus, you and the other employees were more grateful than ever that your boss was as lenient as he was, usually laughing it off, and popping an ice cube in his steaming hot cappuccino as a gesture. Nevertheless, he was sure to give a stern warning (or a friendly reminder, as he liked to call them) to not give out any more free iced drinks once the first week of May had passed. You usually just smiled at your phone as the yearly text made all of your phones whistle in unison.

The first Friday of May was here and with it you had hoped a comfortably busy day at work. The weather was embracing the light mood of the university students running around near campus, and you were convinced more than one of them would crave an iced beverage of some sort.

You had been cleaning the espresso machine, making sure everything was bound to run smoothly for your next order, when the serenity of the afternoon made itself known to you: No customers were queuing for their orders, the inside-tables of the small coffee shop were empty, the ones outside just as unoccupied, which was due to the unexpectedly harsh sun, who warmed the cement for the first time, radiating it back towards the already heating air. It was to be expected, the parasols were still packed away in the storage room in the back of the shop. Sighing you rested your head on top your hands looking through the opened front as the quiet outside world was conquered by the sunrays of early May. You could feel the cool of the counter spread onto the palms of your hands, as the dooming boredom of your uneventful work afternoon towered over you.

Very quiet, you thought.

Too quiet, you complained silently.

And it was unusual that nobody was here. In the two years you had worked at the café, the only times nobody had come in was in the midst of summer, and even then, there had usually been at least one person at a time. So, this was very odd. If Chaehyun had been here, she would have told you to not question God’s gift of a minute of peace and quiet. However, this wasn’t a minute, it had been minutes. Plural. On top of everything you enjoyed working as a barista, even if it was stressful at times, at least there was always something to do. Well, apparently almost always.

At the beginning of your shift, your boss had asked you if you would be fine alone for a few hours today, you had agreed reluctantly, as it could have very well gone wrong, but now you were glad that you had not insisted on anyone else coming in. You knew Hanbin was busy with dance practice, and that Chaehyun had been excited all week for a date she was going on today. Having one of them come in unexpectedly and then do nothing all afternoon, would have been not only a waste of their time but also of your boss’ money. So, you supposed, it was fitting for this particular Friday to be slowest day ever. Even though it meant boredom for you. Oh my god, this was going to be a long afternoon.

Time was passing three times as slow as it usually did. In the past 15 minutes you had been sure three times, that it was time you started the closing duties, only to realize that merely a handful of minutes had passed. You had grown so impatient with today, that you considered turning the time forwards, so that you could close early ‘on accident’ and go home. Of course, as an amazing employee you would never do anything like this ever, but it sure crossed your head once or twice (or three times actually). Sighing at the clock once more, you retreated back to your position with your head resting on the counter as you wait for the seconds to creep by.

Immersed by the ticking of the time and so busy tapping the rhythm of the melody stuck in your head that you didn’t notice someone approaching the shop, until the bell announced his entry.

“Hi,” a rather low voice greeted as you scrambled into your usual upright position behind the counter.

“Hello!” You smiled at the young man in front of you. He must have been around your age, maybe a little bit older, but that was judging by his voice. His appearance was sweet and youthful, his smile bright, his hair a little messy, but just the right amount. Charming. He was the kind of boy that would star in a Taylor Swift music video. Classic friends-to-lovers. You had to suppress a small giggle at the thought of it.

In the moments between his greeting, your greeting and the Taylor Swift fantasies, your brain still found the time to wonder what his order would be (it worked fast like that). Maybe something classic like an iced americano? Or something unexpected like a strawberry latte? You had been so bored, alone the thought of making a drink excited you beyond reason.

“What can I get you today?” you asked with a practiced, but this time more genuine than not, smile on your face.

“Oh,” He looked a little lost, you noticed only now, fidgeting with his hands in front of him, “I was just going to ask whether or not it was okay for me to set up for busking in front of the café?” He turned around, pointing to the small open area in front of the unoccupied seats.

 It was a nice spot for busking, the shade from the trees making it cool enough to perform in the summertime as well. Your eyes darted to the guitar bag slung across his shoulder, lips caught between his teeth as he expectantly waited for your answer.

“Oh. So, you don’t want a drink, huh?” You really tried to suppress the disappointment, but judging from the look on his face, you weren’t doing a good job. Well at least you would soon have some sort of entertainment. And who knows, maybe he was so good, he’d bring in some customers.

“Do I have to buy a drink to be allowed to busk?” His eyebrows shot up, his expression changing from sweet to curious.

“What? Oh, no that’s okay. You can go ahead.” You smiled at him, nodding to the small square in front of the café.

He smiled slightly, determined to satisfy your need to prepare a drink for him, “Actually, I could use a little bit of a refreshment.”

Matching his expression, your face now showcased a bright smile as you handed him the menu. You weren’t sure if he could tell how grateful you were to finally be able to do something other than stand around and check the time, but you tried to show it to him by whipping back and forth slightly, stealing glances at him as he decided. You waited patiently as he studied the menu, tongue poking out between his teeth. He was cute, in a clueless kind of way.

Some time passed, but nothing compared to the amount you had been standing around until your saviour in the form of a busker came into the café.

Finally, he lifted his head, adjusted his guitar, slung over his shoulder, and cleared his throat, “Actually, could I maybe get a bottle of water?”

You were about to cry. A whole menu full of drinks ranging from coffees to mochas to fruit teas and smoothies, and this man wants a bottle of water? You were sure he could see the disappointment written on your face once again as he looked up from the small piece of paper in his hands.

A somewhat apologetic smile rested on his lips; he knew what he did.

“Water?” you asked again, just to be sure. Just so that you didn’t misunderstand and accidentally got the man a water instead of the strawberry matcha latte he just ordered.

“Uhm… I-Is that not possible?” A nervous smile was present on his features. On any other day, you probably would have noticed that the boy in front of you was quite literally a nervous wreck; Not only would he be busking in a new area for the first time, but his friends had also convinced him to go ask the cute barista if it was okay to play in front of her café, although he knew it was more than okay and even encouraged by the owner. Still, he did it out of curtsey, and not to finally have a reason to talk to the girl. He had had several pep-talks from his friends, as well as his mother (although she didn’t know what the peptalking was for), just to stumble over his word when ordering a water? Taerae, you really can do better.

“Water is free.” That interrupted his mental face palm as you smiled politely and pointed to the jug to your right. It was filled with fresh orange and lemon slices as well as mint to give the water a little something. Usually, the taste of the fruit would not be that strong as it would get refilled and emptied quite quickly, but today it had been standing around for a while, so you were sure it would actually taste a bit like the citrus and herbs floating inside of it. You supposed the boy would be in for a treat.

“That’s nice.” That’s nice?

“Do you need a cup for it to take it outside?” As you were speaking, you already turned around, grabbing one of the paper cups and a pen ready to write his name on it. You realized it was unnecessary to do this for a mere cup of water, but in all honesty, you were just as intrigued by the man in front of you, as you had been disappointed by the lack of creative drink-ordering; You wanted to know the name of the man that gave you hope just to take it all away from you again.

“What’s your name?” you smiled innocently, already setting the pen down to write as you looked at the man through your lashes.

“Oh. Uhm Taerae.”

You chuckled, “Okay, Oh-Uhm-Taerae,” you handed him the cup, “Enjoy your water!” you winked at him, smiling as he filled it up.

Taerae was a blushing mess. How was he supposed to perform in front of the café now? And also, why would he have ordered water? Of all things, he could have ordered, he asked for water. Wow. For a moment Taerae wondered if it was more embarrassing to play in front of here now, or to just leave and never set foot into this part of the city ever again.

Taking a sip of his water he set down his guitar and finally let out a dramatic sigh, he didn’t realize needed to leave his body right this second. There was not much to his busking set up, just him and his guitar, a stool, and a small speaker. Taerae used to have a booklet with all of his favourite songs, but he knew them by heart now, so no need to hide behind the notes. Matthew always said he would hide his face behind the pages, and when he first performed without it there had been twice as many people, not because he was better, but because people could see his smile. Taerae wasn’t so sure that that was the reason.

Today he seemingly would be playing for an audience of two. Himself and you. You who had been watching his ever move during his set up, as you were wiping down the already clean tables. If he hadn’t been so nervous, he would probably say this was his favourite way to meet new people. In fact, he had met almost all of his best friends through music; be it busking or the choir at his high school, or even just bonding over their favourite artists, music had always brought people into Taerae’s life. So Junhyeon’s theory to just go and ask if it was okay to play in front of the café as to finally talk to you, should have been fool proof. Count on Taerae to mess it up though. He debated whether or not he should text the group chat and ask for some moral support and customers for the café, but ultimately decided against getting teased to death by his favourite tormentors.

The sun was getting lower and lower as Taerae procrastinated starting to play. He could feel as the anticipation radiated off of you. You had settled back behind the counter, still watching him as he pretend to tune his guitar for the nth time. Taerae couldn’t hold eye contact with you for longer than an accidental moment, if had been able to, he would have seen the amused smile on your face as you sipped on a glass of water yourself. Taerae had his ‘Oh-Uhm-Taerae’ titled cup sat on the ground beside him. He had blushed even more when he had realized how you had teased him and was sure you’d get along great with Junhyeon once he introduced the two of you. If he got to ever introduce to his friends.

He was sure by now you could tell he was stalling, so with one last look around the area, and one last sip of his wonderful water, he strummed his guitar.

*

Music attracted people like honey did flies. Over the years you learned that whenever busking was held in front of the café, the customers would float through the doors, order drinks, and relax to the live music. But as the first notes of Taerae’s singing reached your ears, you wished that nobody would come to distract you from his voice. For the first time today, you wanted nothing but be left alone with the boy and listen, maybe sway through the small room a bit. But sure enough, the first song wasn’t even over, the sun hadn’t even retreated further towards the horizon, its light still bright and strong, not yet soft, and golden, when the first couple came strolling by, and after a short moment of weighing their options, the woman sat down outside, her attention undivided on Taerae, as the man came inside to order their drinks. You sighed softly as your focus on Taerae shifted to the coffee machine, it sound muffling his voice as you grinded coffee ground after coffee ground. Out of the corner of your eye, you could already see the next person enter the shop, still half looking at the performer outside. Now, it would be busier than usual, you were sure. You smiled softly, be careful what you wish for.

*

Taerae was happy he could bring you some business. He was also happy that your very distracting eyes didn’t linger on him quite as intensely as they did during his first song. It had been a successful busking for him even after his first struggles. The sky had eventually turned darker and darker, and the air had gone crisp with the last goodbyes of what once was winter. With more and more people leaving it was time for him as well to wrap up. At one point there had been so many people, it was almost impossible for Taerae to see the front of the store, making it difficult for him to confirm that you were still watching, paying attention to him. The awkward interaction out of his mind, he was happy to catch you look at him during any free moment of your now busy work afternoon/evening.

*

When Taerae started to pack up, the café was already closed. He hadn’t seen you leave, but there had been so many people around, he easily could have missed you. Besides, there was always a chance of a back entrance or something of the like. On the one hand, it was nice that he now could relax and not worry about embarrassing himself again in front of you, on the other he really wanted to know what you thought of his songs; Whether or not you liked them, if it was okay if he came back and played again, if he could take you out to dinner. The usual after busking questions really.

Zipping up his guitar, Taerae got ready to leave. He could still feel the guitar strings giving way and embedding themselves under his fingertips, that’s how he knew it had been a good session. It was quiet now that he had stopped playing, no spectators left but the first cicadas welcoming the night-time. Taerae would have just left if it hadn’t been for jingle of keys followed by a soft “Wait a moment” that caught his attention.

He turned and sure enough there you were, bag slung over your shoulder, hair tied out of your face, revealing a smile and gleaming eyes.

“Hi,” you smiled.

“Hello,” Taerae reciprocated.

You handed him the takeaway cup you were carrying, adorned with a neat ‘Oh-Uhm-Taerae’. You smiled as he raised his eyebrows at the nickname, his own heart swelling at your chuckle.

“It’s tea,” You explained, “I figured you could use some after singing all afternoon.”

He nodded, bringing the beverage to his lips. The stark contrast of the cool May night and the heat of the tea made him realize how his body had cooled down, “Thank you. It’s nice.” There he goes again with his nice. He rolled his eyes at himself.

“Well, that’s good! I can make more than water, you know?” you smiled, “Anyways, thank you for today, you brought in more customers than any other busker has thus far. In the name of my boss and his business, I wanted to invite you back to play again. Preferably Tuesdays, Thursdays, or Fridays in the afternoons. That’s when I work.”

Taerae should have acted cool and said something like, I’ll see if I can make it, or I will if my schedule allows it, but instead he just laughed and nodded ‘okay’. He didn’t trust his own voice right now; it would probably give away his excitement.

“Good,” You smiled satisfied, “Then I’ll see Tuesday, Oh-Uhm-Taerae.” You turned to walk away.

“Just Taerae is fine!” He was not going to have his crush call him Oh-Uhm-Taerae.

If he had been any smarter, he would have just said ‘Taerae’. In fact, if he had been smarter, he would have not stuttered saying his name in the first place. But Taerae was Taerae, and you were you.

So, turning around, but not stopping your walking backwards, you smile mischievously, “Alright then, Just-Taerae, see you Tuesday!” you could see his mouth opening and closing in retaliation, but before he could say anything more, with a slightly louder voice you said, “I’m just Y/N, by the way.”

Taerae watched as you waked away, smiling to himself, sipping on his tea, skipping on the way home. He had now been officially introduced to ‘Just-Y/N.’

2. i like you

Another Thursday, another busking event for Taerae in front of the café. It had become somewhat of a tradition for him to play at least once a week when you were working. After each time you’d come out with a cup of tea, which had evolved to iced as May progressed into June and with that spring into summer, and the chill of the nights was more welcomed as a contrast to the hot daytime. Sometimes the two of you didn’t talk much, or hang out, be it due to university or other plans, but most of the time you’d spend the better part of the night walking around, trying new food spots, or just talking and hanging out in front of the café, munching on the left-over pastries of the day. Either way, Taerae was glad to see you at least once a week, and thus the two of you went from strangers to close friends.

This Thursday in particular you had something planned, as you had let him know beforehand. Taerae was excited, a little bit nervous even, it was unusual for you to plan something, normally having Taerae decide what the two of you would eat and do. He was very good at reading people, and he’d usually figure something out that fit with both of your moods.

But not today apparently, today you had decided, and Taerae had no idea what it was so, yes, he was a tad bit nervous.

The daylight stretched until well after 8 p.m. and with the café closing at 7.30 p.m., Taerae made sure to get his guitar and busking stuff home before you were done finishing up at the café. He had been so careful with planning his schedule, that he now arrived back at the square a little early, you were still working, getting drinks to customers, preparing the last slices of cake in the soft pink take-away boxes, smiling at children, laughing at unfunny jokes customers made. He was in awe of you. How could a person be so dedicated to their part-time job? And it was not only at work that you were diligent, more than once had Taerae spent and afternoon studying with you in either your or his universities’ library. The focus you were able to uphold was something Taerae was almost jealous of.  He was jealous of you because you still could concentrate, even if he was around, something he struggled with whenever you were in sight. He had also been jealous of whatever you were focusing on. What in the world could be so important for you to focus on, when he was right there next to you. When he was your… friend?

It frustrated Taerae to no end that he did not have the same effect on you, as you had on him.

Sure enough, after another few minutes of waiting the familiar jingle of keys rushed Taerae out of his head, back down to earth. Back down to real you, not head you. He liked both versions equally, so he wasn’t complaining.

You grinned at him as you made your way towards the boy, “Hi.”

“Hello,” he greeted with suspicion. The expression on your face was foreign, but it really couldn’t mean anything good for Taerae, as it reminded him too much of Junhyeon’s scheming face, you were scheming. In Taerae’s head there were only two options; Either you were planning some intricate prank with his friend, or you were planning something sweet, far from a prank, and Taerae would spontaneously confess in a waterfall of words and your newfound, yet very precious friendship, would suffer from it.

“Why do you look so anxious?” there was a somewhat nervous smile on your lips, eyebrows scrunched up in worry as you handed Taerae his post-performance-beverage.

Taerae shook his head, “I’m not. I just don’t want to get murdered by you. So, before we go, I just wanted to remind you that my voice is a gift to the world, and if you are planning on un-aliving me today, that you’d be taking it away from the whole world and everybody would be mad at you.”

You looked at him, a half scoff, half laugh escaping your lips.

“I’m serious, Y/N. I’m sharing my location with Junhyeon this entire evening.” Taerae crossed his arms in front of his chest, awaiting your reassurance that in fact you were not going to kill him.

“What makes you think Junhyeon isn’t in on the plan?” you smirked, while Taerae’s expression fell.

This joking manner was one of the only times Taerae could look at you without his heart combusting or his eyes diverting as soon as they met yours. And while you were laughing at your very lame retaliation, he had time to take you in. It was beyond Taerae how someone could make him so nervous yet so at peace at the same time.

“Come on now, Taerae” you smiled leading the way towards the metro station, “have a little faith in me, yea?”

If only you knew the amount of faith he had in you. So, of course, Taerae followed.

*

Laughing and joking the two of you discussed all the songs Taerae played today. Thus far he had not played your request, which, like every time after a performance, you let him know by complaining excessively.

The station way bustling with people going home from work, students finding their way to their after-school-studies, and people like you; Looking for activities to end the day on a relaxing note. Out of instinct Taerae placed his hand on your lower back, guiding you through the sea of people towards the train as you were rambling on about this week’s songs and the lack of your favourites (although any song sung by Taerae was your favourite, but not that he needed to know that just yet).

Whenever you and him were together, you had noticed that you forgot the rest of the world existed. Not necessarily in the way, how everything else goes blurry and your focus was solely on him, but rather that real life just slows down a little bit. Whenever you were with Taerae, everything else just seemed less important, far away.

He, however, seemed always grounded. Even when you were excitedly babbling on, Taerae simultaneously smiled and made sure you weren’t in anybody’s way, yet still matched your energy and made sure to react to you. You never understood how he could be so focused on the rest of the world as well. It was especially frustrating because you could either focus on him entirely, or not at all; for you with Taerae it was an all or nothing situation.

*

The train was more or less ripping at its seams when you got on. You always wondered how so many people could fit in such a confined space and not get squashed. You had hoped that due to the nice weather and the rather late hour, it would have been a little emptier, but no, clearly nothing beats the AC of a subway. The hopes of a seat after a long afternoon of work had been abandoned a long time ago, as you got pushed closer and closer towards Taerae.

In all honesty, the boy was panicking. He didn’t know where to put his hands, what to hold onto as to prevent the both of you from falling at each halt the train took. His only hope was for the crowds to thin once the next big transfer point arrived. But until then? He wasn’t sure how to keep standing upright and breathe properly, with you this close.

“Y/N?” Taerae whispered barely audible.

“Hm?” You looked up at him, waiting for him to continue.

But just as Taerae started to speak, you saw the man behind him stand up from his seat. In an effort to not notice how close Taerae had been, you had heard him grumbling to himself how packed the train was and that he could get off at the next station and walk the rest home, but that had been three stops ago. Now that he was actually getting up, you had to act fast. The man pushed past you and in a swift motion you pushed Taerae against the seat, making him sit down with a thump.

You smiled at him triumphantly as his big eyes looked back at you. The man getting up and you pushing Taerae had happened so swiftly that, Taerae hadn’t noticed he had grabbed a hold of your hand as to not lose balance. And you hadn’t either, smiling happily to yourself as you stood in front of Taerae, shielding him from the masses.

Taerae however, would not have you stand when you had been the one working almost all day. He pulled you towards him, getting up at the same time. To spectators it might’ve looked like a twirl, a spontaneous dance on the subway. Well, as a result, you were now sitting and Taerae was leaning over you, satisfied with the change of position.

For a moment there had been a smug grin on his face, but it was soon wiped away by a blush, as he noticed a group of students squealing next to you, whispering to each other and giggling. You too had looked away from Taerae in an attempt to hide your flushed cheeks. But Taerae noticed. And he smiled.

*

From this moment on, the train ride seemed to go on forever. The crowd thinned as your stop approached and soon only a handful of people were in your compartment. Taerae had sat down beside you, taking one of the high-school girls’ seat once they got up and left, but only after they had made sure Taerae did in fact sit down next to you and not anybody else. It was kind of sweet. Still, you couldn’t look any of them in the eye as they got off the train.

Finally, your stop arrived and in a swift motion you got up. Taerae was excited too, he still didn’t know where exactly you were going, but now he at least knew the broad area; The stop was a little towards the edge of the city, where parks and playgrounds dominated the cemented roads. It was a nice change of scenery, and Taerae welcomed it.

Coming up above ground, he noticed how quickly the sun had set, the sky only showing remnants of the bright day at its horizon. You had stopped a few paces in front of him, finding it hard to regain orientation somewhere you hadn’t been in such a long time.

“Where to first?” Taerae asked, curious as to where you could be going this late. You had let him know beforehand that there would not be a grand meal today, and that he should eat something in between busking and your… date?

“The convenience store.” You explained, once you saw the small corner store you used to visit as a kid, “To get ice cream, naturally.”

So, the two of you made your way towards the store and after a few minutes of weighing options and discussing preferences, Taerae and you had decided on green-tea ice cream, and a caramel flavoured one.

“Okay, ice cream secured,” you smiled at Taerae exiting the shop, “Now, Mr. Kim, I shall show you one of my favourite places of all time.”

“What an honour.” He smiled as he tagged along, catching up with you as you started in the direction of a small park.

It had been a little later than you had anticipated, making it a little harder for you to find the exact spot you were looking for. The trees were practically pitch black, and although there were a few lanterns lighting the way, they were too little and too far apart to actually help a great deal. The gravel crunched beneath your shoes as you snacked on the ice cream and made your way further into the green.

“There it is!”

As soon as the small wooden pavilion was in sight you tugged on Taerae’s sleeve to hurry. He had to admit, he wasn’t sure why you were this excited about a wooden structure in a park, at the other end of the city. He thought it was adorable, nonetheless. Coming up the small hill he saw that the pavilion overviewed a small pond, where this time strategically placed light illuminated the water surface.

“Nice, is it not?” you teased, smiling up at the boy. Reacting to things with a quick ‘Nice’ had become an inside joke between the two of you, well for you mostly; It was fun for you, but Taerae usually just rolled his eyes.

“It is.” He confirmed, “But why exactly are we here? I mean don’t get me wrong, I absolutely adore being squeezed together on a train for more than half an hour and then sitting in a park. I’m just wondering.”

“Careful, Taerae,” you narrowed your eyes at him, “I could still murder you and dump your body in the pond.”

He laughed., “No but seriously, what is this place?”

“I’m not sure. I just stumbled upon it one day during my first week of uni. It was strangely familiar and when I talked to my parents about it, they said we used to come here when I was a kid,” you shrugged, “It’s nothing super special but I just wanted to show you.”

Taerae smiled at you, and you smiled back. It was one of these quiet moments you shared. Your friendship thus far had been filled with laughter and music and teasing, but every once in a while, a quiet moment like this made it special. Until someone decided to break the quiet, of course.

“You should have told me; I would have brought my guitar. Properly serenated you.” He pouted.

“No more serenating, I’m growing sick of your voice Taerae, for real.” You mocked, laughing.

This only made Taerae pout more, pushing your shoulder slightly.

The sound of your laugh faded, and Taerae observed a shift in your manner. The look you gave him in that moment sent a shiver down his spine and for a moment he wondered whether or not you had been actually joking about murdering him or not. You looked so unsure and serious, Taerae had never seen you this way.

In your life, not many days had gone your way. You weren’t sure if there were going to be a lot in the future that would. But you really needed today to go your way. Needless to say, you were worried. Of course, there had been another reason you had brought Taerae here; It wasn’t simply because you wanted to show him one of your favourite places, it was a reason as well, but not the only one. But now that you had to put your plan into action, you worried. You had been scared of your body reacting this way just before this moment. Your throat had dried up and your hands were slightly shaking and your heart, oh dear, your heart was going as fast as ever. Maybe you should just cancel the original plan and just, come up with a plan B? Was this a good idea? Did you really need to do this now?

If anything, the troublesome journey here had only confirmed your plans for today. So yes, you really had to get it off your chest, you quite literally couldn’t keep it in anymore. From the moment you saw Taerae today, to you grabbing his hand and not letting go (as if that was on accident), from the highschoolers, and everyone else on the train, as well as in your co-workers and friends, seeing what was right in front of your eyes. You just really had to tell Taerae.

“Hey, actually, there’s another reason I brought you here,” you forced a reassuring smile onto your lips, as to not worry Taerae.

You were terribly failing at not worrying Taerae; As his mind raced through all his possible wrong doings so that he could predict what horrible thing you were going to say, he kept quiet and anxiously waited for you to continue.

“Well, I wanted to bring you here because, I mainly associate this place with incredibly happy memories and I just wanted that to be a good omen, I guess.” You were stalling. You knew that. Taerae probably knew that.

But Taerae also felt relief. It can’t be anything horrendous when you want this place to be a canvas for good memories right? No, right?

Taerae didn’t say anything. He watched your every move as you turned towards the dark that spread across the small body of water. He heard you let out a deep sigh.

This might go incredibly wrong. It might go amazingly right. Either way, you had to say it.

“Taerae,” you started finally turning to the boy, “There’s no going back after I say this, but just know that it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I just need to tell you, okay?”

A small smile spread across his face. Oh my god. He knew where this was going. He definitely wanted it to go there. He nodded for you to continue. In the moments between his motion and you starting to speak he thought about how he had failed as a musician. He sang love songs as a passion, he had been singing them as a hobby for years, he studied music at university, he was pouring out his heart to anyone who would listen, confessing to you every Tuesday, Thursday, Friday afternoon through the one language he knew, the one language that felt safe to him. Yet, here you were, about to confess to the boy who had been singing to you for weeks-

“I like you. As more than a friend.” You offered him a nervous, crooked smile. The words leaving you lips much faster than you had anticipated.

“That’s such a relief.” He answered.

“Huh?” You looked almost scared, the blood draining from your face. Was this his way of rejecting you? No, he didn’t look apologetic at all, no pity in his eyes.

“That means all the love songs I’ve been performing have not been in vain.” He smiled taking a step towards you, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “I like you, Y/N. And I’ve been trying to hold it in, so you can’t even begin to imagine how happy I am that I can finally tell you.”

If it were possible for human eyes to form themselves into hearts, yours would have changed by now. Whatever this man triggered within you, made your heart overflow with feelings, “Thank god.” You answered, making both him and you laugh.

In your nerves and relief and happiness, you hadn’t realized how impossibly close he was by now, even closer than he had been on the subway. You could feel his breath on your face and the warmth of his hand on your cheek. One last smile spread across Taerae’s lips before he finally leaned in to connect your lips to his. You met him in the last millimetres, eager to finally kiss.

It wasn’t perfect by normal standards; The two of you laughed and smiled into each other. You were a little awkward with your limbs, and a little too out of breath to be still considered sexy. Still, it was perfect because it was just the two of you. It was perfect because it was Taerae. It was perfect because it was you. It was perfect because you liked him, and he liked you.

The night was calm and cool when you and Taerae first shared a kiss. The sun had set, and the stars were watching, as your friendship bloomed into love.

3. when you love someone

Summer had been long and lovely, and now Autumn was just around the corner; it was so close, you wouldn’t be surprised if all the leaves had changed colour once you got off this never-ending shift. Taerae’s eyes followed your body as it moved from table to table with full drinks and plates with pastries and then back to the counter with empty dishes and new orders. The memory of the quiet café on the day the two of you first met, was a picture unimaginable, as the small interior was now buzzing with customers. To think you had wished for more customers on that fateful afternoon, when now you hoped the swarm of people would just evaporate in front of your eyes. To describe this time of the year as hectic would be an understatement; Just before university started up again, the café turned into a spot for last goodbyes between parents and now young adults, as well as spot for catching up after the long summer months for friends, who had come to return to their studies.

Taerae had been waiting for quite some time, he was lucky enough to had spot a free table, right when he arrived to pick you up. He had also been lucky since he didn’t actually have to queue for his drink; Taerae, just like all the other significant others of the employees, got the boyfriend/girlfriend treatment; Their drink of choice waiting for them as soon as they entered. By now, you were sure he had finished his drink, even though you hadn’t finished work. You were supposed to get off half an hour ago, but with the floods of people coming through your doors, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave Chaehyun and Hanbin alone, feeling the responsibility as the longest and most experienced worker, as well as the burden of being a good friend heavy on your shoulders.

Not only that, but also your boss had spontaneously decided to go on vacation a week ago and had left you in charge. Although it had felt good to be entrusted with this responsibility, you had not anticipated the amount of work it would mean. You had worked almost every day, having to postpone meetups and get-togethers with not only friends and family, but with your boyfriend as well. The two of you had barely seen each other this week, and thus you wanted nothing more than to leave with Taerae and curl up on his couch just as you had planned, but apparently your customers had a different idea: Whenever you made your way over to his table, somebody asked for some special drink that only you knew how to make. Or the cash register decided to spontaneously combust. It was almost comical.

Every now and again yours and Taerae’s eyes met, and you mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’, to which he just shook his head, telling you it was okay.

In all frankness, Taerae didn’t mind waiting for you at the café.

He loved watching you. It was all the interaction he had with you for the longest time before he finally asked to busk in front of the café. He loved watching you so much that if he had to put down his three favourite things in the entire world, it would be making music, kissing you and watching you while you went on about your tasks.

There had always been something magical in the way Taerae perceived you; He had gotten to know you so well over the past three months you’ve dated, that he felt even if he was simply looking at you, he was experiencing something special, a unique feature to your relationship.

 So, it was okay. He really didn’t mind waiting for you.

What he did mind though, was how stressed you seemed; How you always did everything for everyone, more than what they’d ask for, just in case they needed that little extra; How you clearly didn’t see when there was too much on your plate, and still space on someone else’s. Taerae knew that you tended to do everything by yourself, and didn’t want to worry anyone, but Taerae was worried about you. He wanted to be your resting place, to be helpful in some way.

So, when you had finally found a spare minute to come to his side, Taerae couldn’t wait to be of some comfort, to help make you feel a little better.

“Hi,” smiled softly at the man.

Instinctively Taerae’s hand snuck around your waist, pulling you closer for maximum body contact. You smiled as the familiar warmth spread inside your chest, making you instantly ease up a bit, feeling more at home on this busy day.

“Hello,” he greeted, smiling up at you. 

You just smiled at each other for a moment, tanking up on some well needed calm and support, which only your boyfriend could offer. Soon enough however, your gaze was stolen away by a couple that had just joined the queue.

You sighed, “I’m not sure I’ll be able to leave before closing.”

“That’s okay. I’ll wait, I don’t mind. We can go to my apartment after.” Taerae hoped you would agree, but he knew it was unlikely.

Your eyes were fixed on the clouds outside darkening the sky, making it seem later than it was, “Hm… Maybe you should go now before it rains. I’ll come right after locking up.” You smiled at him, cocking your head to the side. A cute habit of yours, Taerae noted, but he could still see the tiredness in your eyes.

Pulling his eyes away from you towards the looming downpour, he was almost convinced. He hesitated because he just wanted to make sure you were okay and would get home as soon as possible as well.

“Okay. But make sure to hurry once you’re done, okay? And don’t get rained on.” Taerae said while slipping on his denim jacket.

You nodded confirming his words and promising to get home as soon as possible, “The rain will be done once I’m off, I promise.” You smiled.

“Okay, weather fairy, I’ll see you at home.”

He planted a kiss on your cheek and got ready to leave, the next occupant of the table already making his way towards the empty space.

*

It had in fact not stopped raining by the time you had cleaned the espresso machine and wiped down most of the tables. Hanbin and Chaehyun had left a few minutes ago, running towards the subway station, in the spare moments the rain had eased up a bit, leaving you to lock up alone. Now the rain was back to its full power, slamming onto the pavement, windows, cars, and soon you as well. You were afraid the small umbrella you found in the back of the locker room would not do much to keep you dry and warm on the short walk to Taerae’s apartment, but it had to be better than nothing.

The storm was just about to regain its entire might when you left the safety of your workplace. Turning the keys, you felt the cold wind hit your exhausted legs, sending shivers up your whole body, and sending more than a few leaves on their journey towards the ground prematurely. You cursed at yourself for thinking that late-summer-thunderstorms carried the warmth, that mid-summer-ones did. Struggling to keep the umbrella upright, you wrapped the bright blue zip-up sweater you had stolen from Taerae’s closet closer over your body. If there had been any more wind, you were sure would have been blown away.

In fact, you had been so busy trying to not take off, you barely noticed a figure hurrying in your direction.

An out of breath Taerae appeared in the far distance, his silhouette not only blurred by the rain, but also the impressive velocity of his figure running towards you. In Taerae’s hand you could make out another one of his hoodies and a definitely more sturdy-looking umbrella, more than big enough to fit the two of you.

His cheeks and nose were red, even more so due to the red fabric of the umbrella, but mainly because of the unexpected cool temperatures. Taerae hadn’t been home long when he had decided to come and get you once the café closed. A decision he now noted as more than smart, having witnessed you almost fly away like Mary Poppins.

He couldn’t help the smile as he pulled you towards himself, underneath the little shelter his umbrella offered “So, this is where my favourite sweatshirt has gone to.” He pointed towards the fabric currently keeping your body just a degree away from a shiver.

Unfortunately, you had been right about your umbrella being bad at its job, the sweatshirt now thoroughly soaked, “Sorry,” You smiled innocently, “But hey, at least it’s clean now.”

Taerae shook his head, granting you refuge and additional warmth underneath his arm as he wrapped it around your body, pulling you as close as he could, “You could have texted you know?” he whispered in your ear, barely audible over the rain continuously slamming onto the thin fabric above the two of you. 

“I thought my equipment would suffice,” you confessed, although you knew your umbrella would have been unlikely to hold up to this kind of weather, “I’m sorry you had to come out to rescue me.”

“It’s what I’m here for, no? Serenating and rescuing.” Taerae smiled, his hair curling itself back to its natural state, “University student and professional busker by day, personal saviour and superhero of Y/N by night.”

You chuckled; he really was your hero.

*

Finally inside and in dry clothes, you let yourself fall onto Taerae’s couch. As soon as your body touched the soft fabric, the sleepiness started to set in. Between the bustle of work and the adventure of running through the rain with Taerae, your body had gone from low battery to out of it completely. The only thing missing right now was your boyfriend, who was making instant noodles and a cup of tea for the both of you, insisting that you had made enough beverages today to last a lifetime, and you couldn’t agree more.

The day had been so long, and just an hour ago you had wished for nothing more than for time to pass by more quickly, but now that you had actually had time to spend with Taerae, you willed the clock to slow down for a bit.

Now in the warmth of Taerae’s apartment, you didn’t mind the weather at all; The rain was still going, tapping onto the windows nonstop, and flooding the streets outside without doubt, but what did it matter to you now that you were able to rest with your favourite person in the entire world.

Speak of the devil; Taerae set down the bowl of instant noodles in front of, followed shortly by a glass of water and a cup tea.

“That looks so good, I could kiss you right now.” You smiled looking at food in front of you.

“Do it then.” Taerae turned his head towards you, expectantly waiting on the kiss you had promised.

You placed a quick peck onto the smiling boy and then started to slurp down your meal. It had been some time since Taerae had seen you so happy. It had been some time since Taerae had seen you, period. Not counting the café this afternoon, of course, but it really had been a while since the two of you had hung out alone like this. And Taerae would be lying if he said he hadn’t missed you. Just like you would be lying if you said you hadn’t been stressed out of your mind this past week. Just like you would be lying if you said you weren’t tired right now. Just like you would be lying if you said you hadn’t missed Taerae too.

“It was a really hard day today, huh?” Taerae’s voice was laced with worry, and it made you anxious. You didn’t want to worry him, there really wasn’t anything for him to worry about, he was helping as much as he could without worrying.

“It was okay,” you answered, a little too quiet for Taerae’s liking, “I’m just glad I won’t be in charge anymore next week.”

While Taerae believed that the majority of what you said was true, he wouldn’t have you downplaying your feelings like that. He sighed, “You don’t have to pretend with me, Y/N, you know? I’m here to help. I want to know when you’re stressed or feel bad or hurt.”

In the past few months that you and Taerae had been dating, it was made obvious on more than one occasion that your boyfriend’s love language was acts of service. Be it to drive you to your favourite bookstore, or to get you some medicine when you were sick. Taerae loved to just do things for you.

You smiled at your sweet boyfriend, your heart overflowing once again, “I know, it’s just… I can do this on my own. I don’t want to worry you.” You nodded to yourself, feeling a little exposed.

“I get that, but the thing is, you don’t have to,” Taerae took your hand in his, “That’s what it’s like when you love someone; I want to share the hurt and the burden and the stress. I want to do it for you, and I want you to do it for me,” his smile was faint, his eyebrows scrunched up slightly, “I’d rather worry with you, than worry for you.”

You weren’t sure what you had done to deserve someone like Taerae. Smiling you leaned into his side, resting your head into the crook of his neck, “Alright, I’m sorry.”

He kissed the top of your head as a response, triggering the warm and fuzzy feeling once again.

“Hey,” you whispered against his body, “I love you.”

Taerae hugged you tighter, engulfing you in all his warmth; the rain so loud against the window, the wind so strong, the building howled its tune, his words so soft they warmed you up from inside, “And I love you.”

4. so let’s love

Being in love was harder than you could have ever imagined. It was also simply more than what you could have ever thought it would be. It was more difficult, more intense, more complicated. But the more you felt it, the deeper, the stronger your feelings got for Taerae the more aware you got of your need for him.

Everything Taerae felt with you was new to him as well. In the past, Taerae had never had a problem figuring out how he felt, and he surely didn’t have any problems expressing his emotions. For Taerae, music had always been the easiest, most natural way to communicate. It was what brought him the most precious things in life: a purpose and you. But lately, it was difficult for him to encompass his love for you through actions or music. And he had a feeling he would struggle his entire life to put this into words.

*

The leaves had long turned brown, the weather had long switched from sunshine to frost, and Taerae had once more found his way home from a long day of classes, and an even longer week of not seeing you. Lately, he had felt something shift between the two of you, and he felt difficulty to raise the issue, to talk it out. He even felt difficulty to play it out, to sing it out, to just let his frustrations flow.

Of course, Taerae knew that couples fought. He knew it was normal for lovers to throw hurtful things at each other’s heads from time to time. He could list more than 10 songs that captured this exact feeling of defeat, when one hurts the person, they love the most. It was his hyperawareness of this fact, that made it all the more difficult to ignore the fact that you just did not fight.

It was not like the two of you would not have reason for conflict, but it always seemed like whenever the two of you were close to fighting, you shut down. Your passiveness got a hold of you, and you logged out of Taerae’s life until you were ready to forget about the reason you would have fought anyway. Whether or not you reflected and decided it wasn’t as big as a deal as it seemed at first, or if you just ignored the hurt, Taerae didn’t know.

What he did know however was, that this could not be healthy. Neither for you, nor for him. He refused to lose the love of his life over something such as the lack of fighting. All Taerae wanted was to love you. He wanted all that there is to a relationship, the love, the fights, the forgiving. He didn’t need perfect; he didn’t want perfect.

He was sure of his feelings for you, he had been for the longest time. Maybe he did love you more than you did him, but that didn’t even matter to Taerae. He was just worried, he’d lose you. He was so confident in his own love, he became insecure of yours.

So, on this day, on his way home from university, on his way to you, he thought about how maybe, he just wasn’t worth enough for you to fight with him. Maybe it wasn’t that you didn’t like to fight, maybe it was that he just wasn’t worth fighting with. And for the first time, these kinds of Taerae’s feelings made sense.

*

From the beginning of your relationship, you had been determined to give Taerae your whole heart. You wanted nothing more than to love the sweet boy to your heart’s full capacity. And the more you got to know him, the more your heart’s ability to do so grew. And with that your fear of losing him.

In your entire life, you had not really fought with anybody, ever. Of course, there had been disagreements and discussions, but most of the time you hadn’t deemed the topics worth fighting over. You had also had relationships before, none as serious as the one with Taerae, and they mostly ended amicably. Definitely nothing like any Olivia Rodrigo song. You intended to keep the number of break-ups you had had the same, although you knew realistically, the number of fights had to go up at some point, but thus far even disagreements with Taerae hadn’t proven annoying enough to fight over. All you wanted to do is love him.

You didn’t want to fight with him, or to worry him, or to hurt him. You just wanted to love Taerae.

So, on the day the temperatures had dropped as well as all the leaves, and Taerae used the spare keys you had given him to let himself into your apartment, to cook together, the last thing you had expected was to fight.

One look, out of the window and you saw the blanket of grey and white that threatened (or promised) to spill the first snow of the season. You had been waiting for Taerae to come home for some time now and had been working on some university assignments until the all too familiar jingle of keys announced his arrival. The first thing you heard right after the sound of the soft thump Taerae’s guitar case made when he set it down, was a sigh. And only then did you realize just how stressful the past month had been for the both of you. You and Taerae were both drowning in assignments and projects and that meant you spent the majority of your time in the library, as he did in the studio. It had been hard for you with work and university to find time to just be together, especially with a lot occupying both of your minds.

Communicating had never been your forte and you found it even harder to discuss your worries when the time you had together was so scarce. Taerae had been good at voicing his feelings and telling you when he was stressed but in the past days, he seemed a little closed off as well, so this sigh seemed to be a giveaway.

Still, worries aside a soft smile rested on your lips as he entered the kitchen, the table currently occupied by books and sheets of paper, your own little chaos ruling over the space.

“Looks intense,” Taerae chuckled as he made his way to you.

“It’s even worse than this looks in here,” you motioned with your finger to your head as you closed your laptop shut, standing up to hug your boyfriend hello.

Taerae kissed your cheek, taking in your scent. He noticed the hints of coffee scent in your hair, an indicator that you had worked the morning shift. He didn’t know you had worked today. You used to share your work schedule with him at the beginning of the week. Taerae knew you weren’t obligated to share your schedule with him, he wasn’t possessive like that, but just stopping to do so, irked him in some kind of way.

“You okay?” you asked as Taerae was staring off into space, and you grabbed a bottle of water.

“Yeah,” one look at you and he knew you didn’t believe a single word he just said, “it’s just the usual. Creative pressure and such.”

You cocked your head, the way you always did when processing things, thinking of what to say, “You sure that’s the only reason? You kind of seem a little off the past few days.”

He knew you didn’t mean it like an accusation. He knew that doing this, fighting, on grounds of you asking if there was anything else wrong was ridiculous. But Taerae also supposed it was as good a reason as any. Still, he didn’t mean the words to come out quite as harsh as they did.

“Yeah? You mean like how you don’t even tell me when you work these days anymore? Or what assignments you’re working on? Who you’re working on them with?”

One look and Taerae realized you were clearly taken aback by what he had said. Or how he had said it.

“I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had to approve my schedule. I don’t mean to keep it secret Taerae, but I’m not talking about schedules or shifts, or even university. Something’s clearly bothering you.” Your brows were scrunched up and arms crossed.

Taerae scoffed silently, “Why…” he tried to gather the words in his head, to make them seem a little less ridiculous than they were, “Why won’t you fight with me?”

“Huh?” now you were taken aback. “Why won’t I fight with you? Maybe because there’s nothing to fight about?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. I know you get annoyed when I stay in the studio for too long and don’t text you when I know you’re waiting for dinner plans or something. And I - I get annoyed when you just brush things off, but you always apologize even if there’s nothing to apologize for. Sometimes– Sometimes I just want to be annoyed with you and you should be annoyed with me as well for being annoyed.”

You frowned, what he said was true, even if you weren’t sure he was making sense 100%. In any case, these things just seemed inconsequential. Whenever stuff like that occurred you had been more worried than annoyed, sad maybe, but definitely not mad.

“What do you mean? I just don’t think these things are worth fighting over.”

Taerae closed his eyes, in the way he did when he couldn’t get the right chord combination, in the way he did to coordinate his thoughts, in the way he did just before letting go of a frustrated breath.

“See? This is what I mean. I just- It just feels like that to you I’m not worth fighting with.”

Now there was hurt on your face. Taerae didn’t mean to twist your words but it just, that is what it sounded like to him. This is what it felt like to him.

“I- That’s not what I said at all, Taerae,” Your tone had also changed. It was more straight forward, more matter-of-factly. Yet your eyes seemed desperate to just clarify this situation, so, you searched in his for some sort of doubt of his last statement, “You know that that’s not true, right?”

“I don’t know! It seems like it if I’m being honest,” his voice was just below a shout. Although it definitely didn’t seem angry, it was just as desperate as the look in your eyes. He tried to understand you, the way you tried to understand him, “It feels like whatever I do, whether it’s good or bad it doesn’t matter.”

“What? Of course, it matters. Taerae, you matter, so much!” You tried to hold the eye contact, but your emotions seemed to overflow, making it impossible to think and talk, but you tried anyways, “I am sorry, and don’t get me wrong, this is not me not wanting to fight right now, I’m just trying to understand- to make you understand; Never has anything you did not affected me. Be it negative or positive. I know we’ve talked about it but- you know I’m still learning, right? I just- I don’t want my feelings to be a bother to you. I don’t want me to be a reason for you to not do something. I just- I simply want to be a support for you. I don’t want you to have to worry about me and my feelings too, because I just- I so confidently want you. I just want to love you, Taerae.”

He looked at you, and you looked at him as you continued.

“Never did I mean to hurt you by not fighting with you. If you want to fight then okay, let’s fight. Let’s scream at each other and hurt each other, but I just- I just want to be able to love you through it all.”

You didn’t realize you had started to cry. And Taerae hadn’t realized how much it would hurt to see you cry. So, all he did was pull you close and engulf you in a hug.

“Okay. I’m sorry, too.” He was afraid of letting you go, as the thoughts raced through his head, as he tried to turn back time. He cursed himself for not realizing how much it sucked to fight. How much it sucked to hurt the person you love the most. “Okay, let’s love, okay?”

So, when the first snow began to fall, as it covered the rooftops and bare trees like sugar did pancakes, and a peacefulness settled after the first fight, you and Taerae decided to love each other, but also fight with each other, and cry and laugh with each other, and hurt and forgive each other. The both of you just prayed that you wouldn’t lose each other.  

5. i loved you

An unexpectedly cold spring night put you in an incredibly uncomfortable position.

One would think that at the end of April the temperatures would somewhat rise above 10 degrees, but to your disappointment, they had even dropped below zero. You didn’t know what had come over the city to still be as freezing as it was, but you couldn’t help but think it was your heart that had conjured up the unexpected mid-spring-ice-age.

The temperature wasn’t the only thing that made it difficult for you to get out of bed. It was also a simple lack of anything warm in your life. So, on the morning of this especially chilly spring day, you rummaged through your closet to find one of your warmest sweaters, to try and keep your body from going into hypothermia on your way to your opening shift at the café. Trying to distract you from the shivering even inside your apartment, you thought about the workday ahead, and what spices you would throw into your free morning coffee, when your hand grazed over what felt like your warmest, snuggest sweater. Satisfied with the choice, you grabbed onto the thick fabric and pulled it out, but not without a few other items falling out of your closet in the process.

Cursing at your own messiness, you at first didn’t notice that the sweater you had pulled out, was in fact, not one of your own. You had even been so distracted by the mess that was now on your bedroom floor, that you pulled the sweater over your still with sleepiness marked head, and diligently threw the stray items into the closet, shutting the door before they could fall out once again.

Only when you caught a glimpse of your own reflection, did you realize what you had just slipped onto your body. Comforted by the familiarity of the striped sweater, but startled by the memories it brought back. The scent of its owner still hung heavy in its fibre. You stopped to look at yourself in such a familiar, yet strange item of clothing.

If anyone had told you two months ago that it’d feel strange to wear Taerae’s hoodie in April you would have thought it would have been because of the warm weather, and not because Taerae had broken up with you just a couple of weeks before.

The fabric felt now heavy on your shoulders, and you sensed an all too familiar weight drop a little heavier onto your chest. You had done your best to go back to the life you had known before, but in the past two weeks you had been semi successful in achieving that: More than once had your co-workers caught you staring off into space, your gaze unintentionally fixed upon any busker in front of the café, your eyes even fixated on the spot when nobody was playing. With a gentle tap to your shoulder, Hanbin had brought you back to your task of making espresso shots, a routine that felt almost too easy to get distracted from.

You were well aware that you had had a life before Taerae. You just didn’t know you would have one after Taerae. In all honesty, you had hoped you wouldn’t have.

The most tragic part was, Taerae just hadn’t given you the closure one would need after getting broken up with by the love of their lives. He hadn’t really given you any explanation at all. Nothing more than a lot off bullshit, and a just-because. It was easy for most people in your life to go from loving to hating him, but even with the lack of sympathy for your situation, you found it difficult.

You had tried to hate him, you had tried to resent him even, but nothing had proven effective enough to erase your love for him. Taerae had been engraved into your bones. And now he expected you to just move on?

*

In hindsight, you should have seen it coming. At least that’s what you told yourself, that’s what you told your friends who were asking why the two of you broke up. Coming up with more than absurd reason of why you should have known, when in reality you simply couldn’t have. Because even in hindsight, you never could have seen it coming.

So, on the evening of, when Taerae had told you things weren’t working for him anymore, his face straight and not showing any emotion, not showing his signature smile, or even a tear; On the evening of, when you had begged Taerae to just tell you what you had to change, what it was you had done wrong and that you would fix them, if only he’d stay; On the evening of, when even after you had cried and shouted, he just took his guitar case and left; On the evening of the break up, you hadn’t gotten an answer. And neither had you in the two weeks since.

In fact, you had not seen Taerae at all. Or heard from him, not even through friends or social media. You wondered if he was okay, if he really was as unbothered as he had seemed, even though it was unnatural for him to act the way he did. You had always deemed Taerae a gentle person, but the way he ended things, was just so unlike him. So, he had to be not okay as well, right?

The lack of answers made you do something you had never had to do before, which was speculate and wonder. Taerae had always worn his heart on his sleeve and expressed himself so diligently most of the time, if not through words, surely, he would have done so through music. So, speculating about how he must feel now, was something you had never had to do. But now you caught yourself wondering all the time. You wondered how many things he thought about before the thought of you popped into his head. You speculated what the songs he was composing these days sounded like. Were they about you?

Either way, there was no hiding from him. Not for you, not just yet.

His presence, the imprint he had left on you followed you everywhere you went. The grocery store, the library, the café. Everywhere the memories of Taerae loomed over you. You wanted to forget him, so much to the point you had seriously considered hypnosis, if that was thing. It was like you could not, not consider him. He was so engraved in your brain; he was so engraved in your everything. You weren’t sure how to erase him from your everything, you weren’t sur how to erase him from anything. You weren’t sure you actually wanted to.

Still, the hurt you had felt the first few days was overwhelming, you couldn’t eat or sleep or do anything much other than run on autopilot. It had become so bad, that some of the regular customers noticed. It was almost like all life had been sucked out of you, and in a sense it had been; A possible future life had been taken from you. A future you had hoped for ever since you had met Taerae. A future you now grieved.

So, now looking at yourself in the mirror, the striped sweater hanging from your body, keeping it warm, felt like a glimpse of what if. A glimpse of Taerae. A glimpse of the person you had been when you were with him. A person you could have been, but never would.

For a second you wondered again, Taerae well established in your mind. But in the end, it didn’t matter. There was no use wondering and retracing everything you did during the last few days of your relationship. There was no use, because you did everything you said you would: You had loved Taerae, you loved him still, with your heart’s full capacity. Over the months you had fought and made up and hurt each other and forgiven the hurt. But now none of it mattered, so you might as well try and forget, instead of dwell and grieve.

So, with a swift motion you stripped the sweater off your body, exposing yourself once more to cold of the spring morning that had even seeped through the walls of your apartment. The frost making itself known in the form of icy crystals on your window. You didn’t look for another sweater, you wanted to feel the cold.

You weren’t sure what you had done wrong. But still, you knew more than you didn’t. You knew there was nothing you could do. You knew you would hurt for some time still. You knew you would see Taerae in buskers, guitars, and iced tea. You knew you would hear him in Hi-Hellos and the jingle of keys. You knew you loved him, and you knew it’d be a long time before you stopped.

So, for now you’d try to forget.

6. you were beautiful

There was a hum in the air, a melody that made its way through the busy streets of the city. The warm weather had finally decided to stay, and it stuck to the cement like chewing gum, barely cooling down overnight.

Taerae had kept himself busy over the past month, not really wanting to slow down, but with graduation coming up, also not really being able to do so. For him there had barely been any time to just stroll around, or go to cafes with his friends, or to simply just think; These days Taerae still didn’t really knew how to function normally, how to function like he did before you. Of course, he still had to perform, write, and produce music for university, but he rarely went out to busk or did these things for joy like he used to. It was something outsiders could have never noticed; How Taerae did everything but nothing at the same time. Only the people close to him, could tell something was up. They knew of the break-up of course, but they could only guess why exactly it happened in the first place.

In any case, it was evident that Taerae had closed himself off. He didn’t really talk to any of his friends about it, and neither did his songs show any reflection of what he felt. They hadn’t become bad, they were just cliché. Some of his professors even pointed out the shift in his lyrical style. But there was nothing Taerae could do; he was both too busy and exhausted to deal with his feelings.

Walking around in the area by his apartment was one of the only times Taerae consciously searched for some down time, to sort out at least some of his thoughts. Of course, he was cautious not to stray too close to your workplace, more for his own sake than yours. As of now, Taerae wasn’t sure how his heart would react if he was to come face to face with you unexpectedly. Ever since he had decided to break it off with you, he had barely fathomed to hold a single thought about you. He simply couldn’t conjure up enough courage to deal with his own heart break. So, up until now, pushing everything away would have had to do the trick.

He wasn’t sure what exactly had ticked off his thought process to recall the day of the professor-student conversation. Maybe it was the undeniable sense of Deja-vu he felt when he spotted a young busker, surrounded by only a small group of people, who were all listening carefully to the boy’s song. Maybe it was the girl listening, who from the back looked exactly like the one he loved. It could have been either of these two or another altogether, but in any case, Taerae knew, that maybe it was time to face this inevitable heart ache, even if just for the duration of this walk.

*

At the beginning of each semester, music and music production majors are required to sit down with one of their supervising professors, to discuss projects for the upcoming term. Most of these conversations were easy going, and the projects subject to change, but the conversation at the start of the second semester senior year was one equally feared and anticipated.

The senior project for music and music production majors was basically the making of an entire album, with full creative freedom. Taerae had been more than excited to get started on it, in fact, he had been so eager that the songs for his album were ready for recording as soon as his supervising professor approved of them.

So, yes, Taerae was a tad bit nervous entering the professor’s office. But he was generally well-liked and so were his songs, so he was sure this meeting would go over smoothly, and he would have to do nothing more than to put in a reservation to one of the student recording studios and was good to go.

And that was the case, partly.

Everything was going well; the professor praised his compositions and skills as a lyricist. The way he had described Taerae as someone to get across any type of feeling, made Taerae’s chest swell with pride. It wasn’t until the last few minutes of the meeting, when Taerae was supposed to thank the professor in front of him and get straight to work, that everything was pushed out of his rightful trajectory.

Taerae was about to get up out of the chair he had been sitting in somewhat tensely, when the professor said something, that in hindsight, put as many things into perspective as it pushed out of it. At least for Taerae.

“This girl must be quite the experience for you as a song writer.”

“Excuse me?” Taerae had said then, distraught, and genuinely confused.

The professor had then proceeded to explain how certain people, certain experiences, determined the colours of the artists in any art form. And that you, were certainly one of these experiences that would influence Taerae a great deal, even once the next experience would come into his life.

Looking back now, Taerae wasn’t sure why he had taken what his professor said so to heart. He definitely didn’t think of you as an experience. He didn’t think of you as something temporary at all. He didn’t think that there was any more evolving for him to be done, Taerae would have been good writing songs about you for the rest of his life.

But was this how the world perceived you? As an experience? Did he, through his songs somehow reduce you to something less than what you were, something temporary, something to live through and then move on?

From this point on Taerae couldn’t help but spiral in his self-doubt. Doubt for his love for you, and doubt for his skill of song writing. Thinking back on statements his friends had made, like how they would also write songs as good as Taerae’s if they had a Y/N in their lives, only confirmed his insecurities in his own love for you. Taerae somehow had gotten way into his head about it.

In Taerae’s mind it wasn’t fair to you. It wasn’t fair to make you an experience in his life. It wasn’t fair, when all you did was give, when you read his every thought and tried so hard to be better and learned with the mistakes you made, learned to love Taerae even more.

Taerae remembered that you had said you wanted nothing more than to love Taerae for the rest of your life, that he was your person. And all Taerae had done was make you an experience.

*

Lost in thought, a sigh heavy on his lips, Taerae hadn’t noticed the young woman listening to the busker turn around. She hadn’t yet looked at him, instead she was gushing about the music to the friend who had just joined her. Had the other joined the young woman any earlier, Taerae would have known in an instant that it was in fact you: the pink hair of your best friend and co-worker a dead giveaway. The two of you a duo Taerae found difficulty in separating, even during the days of you dating.

Chaehyun was whispering something in your ear, which made you laugh a little louder than you had anticipated, a hand coming to cover your mouth as you snickered in slight embarrassment. More than once had Taerae witnessed an interaction similar to this one, and looking at you now, made his heart ache with longing.

But he understood that that was something he wouldn’t be able to see again. He knew that he couldn’t really love you the way you deserved to be loved, so he wouldn’t try.

In the past, Taerae had always felt he was good at expressing himself. You had always promised him to get better at things, to learn the love Taerae needed. Without missing a day, you had told him you loved him. Sometimes first thing in the morning, sometimes it was the last thing he heard when he fell asleep. You had always thought of Taerae first, he had been the most important thing in your life, and Taerae had been well aware of this fact, you had told him more than once. Yet you still didn’t put pressure on the young man, you waited patiently on him in every sense. Maybe Taerae hadn’t been so good at expressing his feelings, maybe you had been the one very aware of your own feelings along.  

Watching you from afar, he wondered if you thought of him as much as he did of you. He wondered if everything the two of you had been, was something of the past to you, or if everything, if he, was still present in your life, if he still was something you had to consider, even if it was just to avoid him successfully.

*

The warm wind grazed over you, as it did Taerae, sending your hair flying in its direction. Your head turned towards the young man standing more than a few metres away from you, gaze fixed upon you. It took you some time to remember to not stretch out your arm and wave at him in greeting. It took you even longer to remember not to make your way towards the boy to greet him with a soft kiss on the cheek.

It also took some time for Taerae to not expect any of this from happening; looking at you now, you were a stranger he still loved.

But looking at him now, you realized he was a stranger you once loved. And thus, a small smile made its way onto your face as you turned away, interlocking your arms with your friend, and walking off into the direction of your workplace.

*

To Taerae it had always been interesting how people forgot, once it was over, once it was done. But Taerae would never forget what it was like to love you. He would never forget what it was like to be loved by you. How it was beautiful, how you were beautiful. Taerae would aways remember, he could simply never forget. Maybe someday, he would be fortunate enough to remind you again.

yay!! you made it to the end!! i hope that you were able to enjoy it despite the somewhat sad ending!! thank you again for reading and i’d love to hear your thoughts on it!! love youuuu

this piece was written by @yourstruleejn so please don’t post on any other platforms or translate into any other languages! thank u !!!

TAGLIST : @ja4hyvn @flwoie @sulkygyu @xiaoderrrr @ineedaherosavemeenow @lonewolfjinji @teddywonss @kyusqult @quaissants

AFFOGATO TELL YUU SMTH | chp 13

THE FINAL COMPETITION | wc. 910

warnings — mentions of prayer, anxiety, tears, cringe pick up lines

IT WAS FINALLY THE DAY. The long-awaited DDPA (Deobi Dance Performing Arts) competition finals. The sole reason Juyeon and I reunited once more. He had gone early long before I woke up to catch up on last minute practice. This was a milestone for him, and winning this would also mean that his chances of getting in DEOBI ENT. would be easier than drinking water. Nervous as I may be for him, I tried not to show it as I texted him my last goodlucks, saying that he’d definitely win the competition. (Though I wasn’t so sure about him being able to read that since his device was probably confiscated already.)

It had taken me an hour to get ready. And another 20 minutes to get to the venue. I was lucky to have decided to go two hours earlier, as even then the line for the competition was extensive.

I managed to get the third row in the middle area after a while. Now, I sit with a fresh bouquet of pink, plump peonies laying on my lap while my legs contradict the pretty flowers as it taps the floor restlessly.

After another thirty minutes of waiting did the lights dim, and my goodness, did the people’s screams shock me. The MC entered, giving out an introduction which fueled the onlookers’ anticipation. He then introduced the unbelievable line-up of judges which was brought before me. Even as someone who didn’t really know so much about dance anymore (yeah, I kind of stopped paying attention to it after I broke up with Juyeon the first time), I could still recognize some of the judges.

I might have attended a dozen or more competitions back in highschool, but none had been as crazy and grand as this competition. You could imagine how it felt performing if even me as an onlooker felt intimidated.

About two dozen people had performed so far, all of them different and impressive in their own way. (I would be lying if I didn’t pray that they’d all make a mistake so my boy would get a better chance) Now I am just wondering why it is taking so long for him to come out,

“Next to perform is….LEE JUYEON!”

I swear I’ve never screamed as hard as I have today.

Now, I already know he’s good. I mean, I accompanied most of his competitions back then, but the moment the first note dropped and he started, it was just…mesmerizing. This was totally different from back then. His moves were smoother, agility faster, and the body control he has now is insane. It captured me completely, as if I were trapped in a siren’s trance. I couldn’t say anything the whole performance, even when time seemed to speed up and he finished performing. Even when everyone stood to clap.

I only broke out in my trance when his eyes searched the room and met mine. He gave me a smile, and I smiled back. Gosh, I think I fell in love again. Is this man even real?

It took five more performances before all the participants finished their dances. One by one, the judges started giving out scores starting with the lowest. My goodness was it brutal…some of them left crying. (I would too if I placed last..) And finally, hope seemed to shine as only two participants were left for first place. Juyeon and another talented individual named Ji Changmin, whose dance contrasted Juyeon’s smooth moves with edge-cutting ones.

By this point, I was already very much nervous, hands folded as I prayed hard that Juyeon’s name would be called out in the first place.

“And the winner of DDPA with a whopping 97.2 score average by the judges is…”

Please, please, please, please, please—

“LEE JUYEON!!”

The crowd cheers, the tears spill.

It takes me a while before I can reach Juyeon backstage, seeing how surrounded he was by people. By the time I could see his hair, he was beside what I assume to be Eric Sohn and Kim Sunwoo. It seems that the man has a sixth sense for me though, as his eyes immediately drifted to mine, lighting up.

He seemed to say something to them to make them leave, before he approached me with a big and excited wave.

”Sora!” He exclaimed adorably, reminding me of a golden retriever.

“Juyeon!” I exclaimed back, giving him the bouquet, “You did so good, congrats!”

“Thank you!” He exclaimed, “for the flowers and for coming.”

”Of course, I love watching your performances!”

”Really?” He asked in a teasing tone, “Does that mean I can anticipate your presence in my future performances?”

This man is going to drive me crazy, but in no way was I going to back down now. Take the risk, you know?

”Of course I will. Who wouldn’t want to watch handsome men perform?”

”Oh..” He squeaked out, flustered.

“Cat got your tongue, baby?”

I laughed at his cute reaction. It seemed that I pushed him too much, as he seemed to break down (and by that I don’t mean dancing lol) in front of me.

“Haha~ I’m sorry, you can forget about that.”

“No! No I uh—Sora..” He let out, fumbling his words.

“Yeah?” I asked, “What is it?”

He scratched his neck, as if embarrassed about his next few words. I waited, though impatiently as he struggled to let out his next few words.

“I uh…Affogato tell Yuu something…”

previous | m.list | next

© astrae4 2024 | please don’t copy, translate, or plagiarize my works on all platforms!

Im gonna go finish writing all of the chps n post it altogether for affogato tell yuu smth

Layouts suck to make so yea ill finish up the plot n just go crazy making rhe layouts in one day

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AFFOGATO TELL YUU SMTH | lee juyeon

pairings — barista!juyeon x baker!reader

synopsis — After leaving your first love in Highschool to pursue your passion in pastry abroad, you worked hard day and night to make your dreams come true. Finally, after three years, you graduated and came back to Korea. And, with the savings you earned, was able to open a bakery of your own. What happens now when the cute barista you hired turns out to be your charming first love?

warnings — there will be breakup angst,,, nothing too harsh tho… oh and there will be mentions of blood and being in pain in some chapters!!

genre — romance : exes to lovers, healthy jealousy, pining, right person wrong time, pathetic golden retriever man

note — my submission for @deoboyznet‘s holiday party event. Special love to the recipient of this SMAU…. @invuwrld !!! Hope you love it bae!

taglist — send an ask or comment!

duration — December 1, 2023 until —

more works — navigation | tbz!masterlist

PROFILES

CHAPTER I : YUU’RE HIRING

CHAPTER II : EX-EMPLARY INTERVIEW

CHAPTER III : GRR GRRRRR RAHHH

CHAPTER IV : CONNECTIONS R EVERYTHING

CHAPTER V : U SO HAVE A CHANCE

CHAPTER VI : *BATS EYELASH BLUSHES CUTELY

CHAPTER VII : LIKE A SUPERHERO

CHAPTER VIII : REMINISCING THE PAST

CHAPTER IX : SOMETHING CHANGED, IT’S FISHY

CHAPTER X : THAT’S SAD MAN…

CHAPTER XI : IT LOOKS LIKE YOU 🤧🤍

CHAPTER XII : CAN’T BELIEVE YOU HID THIS

CHAPTER XIII : THE FINAL COMPETITION

CHAPTER XIV : HIP HIP HURRAY

CHAPTER XV : THE HAPPY ENDING

EPILOGUE

© astrae4 2023 | please don’t copy, translate, or plagiarize my works on all platforms!

to. my first – k. sunwoo

pairing: kim sunwoo x fem! reader

genre: 90s au. twenty-five twenty-one au, friends to lovers au, exes to lovers au. fluff, slice of life, coming of age, suggestive. highschool au, football player! sunwoo, baker! sunwoo. cheerleader! reader. first love au. what we call wet cat sunwoo. meeting your ex after years and falling back in love with him kind of thing.

warnings: alcohol, throwing up, swearing, reader has hair long enough for a ponytail, a heated make out session or two that alludes to them having sex but no actual smut happens, finger sucking, the reader moping around a lot, no plot just vibes.

word count: 31k

a/n: inspired by me telling @/csenke that sunwoo is my first love. why am i so soft for this man i truly dont know... thank you best friend for betaing this monster i appreciate it a LOT! also thank you to sana @/heemingyu and izzy @/from-izzy for the help on some parts of the fic and brainstorming the ending w me, as well as beta reading small parts of this.

spin-off to my fic millennium bug because sunwoo deserves love too! the reader from eric's fic is referenced to as MB!Y/N in this. you don't have to read the first fic to understand this one, but there are a lot of references in this and i highly encourage you to do so!

they say you never forget about your first love. you guess that's true. (or– a story about reckless love, first kisses, growing up, ambition, and inevitably, failure.)

August 2007

The laughter all around is electric. The music playing in the background makes you sway and hum to the melody, the familiar tunes making your insides light up with a different sense of nostalgia when you remember the times in which these songs were popular. Your tired limbs make you cut your way through the room and sit down on a vacant chair, not really caring about where your designated seat was anymore, just needing to rest for a second before you either throw up from exhaustion or faint from how tired your legs are from all the dancing. Paying a quick goodbye to Juyeon on the dance floor, you heave out a satisfied sigh when your bottom meets the cushioned seat of the chair, eyes zeroing on the filled dance floor.

Feeling a cramp in your foot, you scowl and lean down, ready to do the thing you’ve been desiring for at least the last three hours– if not the whole day. Hands playing with the strap on your heel, you make the shoe come undone before you slip the uncomfortable footwear off your feet, relaxing when your naked limbs meet with the cold tile on the floor. 

You don’t really know who in their right mind would have a wedding in the middle of the summer heat, but you guess there are people that are out of their mind like that– and those people are your friends from high school. 

Everything about coming back to your hometown has made you feel unpleasantly nostalgic so far– the streets haven’t changed a bit, your childhood home still looks just the same, furniture unmoved, and the air is still as crisp, yet humid as it always was during late August. It’s only tonight that finally makes the weird bittersweetness turn into joy. You’re back home with everyone you’ve ever known, with everyone who’s made you into who you are today. You’re seeing all their faces for the first time in ages– and frankly, it does feel good. 

The satisfaction in your veins stays for a bit until a figure dressed in a suit comes into your point of view. It’s not like you’re seeing him for the first time tonight– he’s a big character, even when it comes to this wedding, so it’s hard to not notice him– but as his legs take him towards you in a wobbly nature, it dawns on you that now is maybe finally the time you get to talk to him. Don’t get me wrong– there are no hard feelings between the two of you (or at least you don’t have any, you’re not so sure about his side of the story). It’s just that seeing him dressed in a tux, tie now a little loose around his neck, the twinkle in his eye still present as back when you were both a lot younger, there’s still a strong aftertaste of your feelings towards him somewhere on the tip of your tongue. 

His walk is a little lopsided as he grins at you and takes a seat on the vacant chair next to yours, a huff of air escaping his lungs as his body relaxes, limbs falling freely down the sides of his chair. His cheeks are a little red and his hair a little messy– there’s only so much to explain his composure apart from all the dancing he’s done.

“So I see that you still can’t handle your liquor well even after all those years?” you joke, making the boy turn his head to face you, an amused twinkle appearing in his smile. 

His eyes are still the same chocolate orbs you know, still the same soft look adorning them whenever he feels particularly ecstatic. He shrugs, jolting his bottom lip out before he sighs to himself. “Well, it’s not every day you are the best man at your best friend’s and your sister’s wedding,” he muses, shrugging. 

Laughing at his remark, once again taking in the state of the room– Juyeon, Hyunjae and Haknyeon each dancing somewhere in the middle of the dance floor, MB!Y/N’s friends from university twirling her around in the right corner, Eric staring at the bride with a warm gaze in his eyes, sipping on a drink while resting against one of the tables, clearly taking a mental image to look at every time he feels the need to– it all feels kind of surreal. Who would’ve thought all those years ago that it would end like this?

Well, Eric Sohn, for starters. He confessed to everyone in his wedding speech that he knew he wanted to marry MB!Y/N the moment she kissed him on New Year’s Eve of 1999– him being this cheesy was only acceptable because it was his own wedding. In any other circumstance, Sunwoo wouldn’t be able to let his best friend live this down.

It’s not like you ever expected those two to break up– it just makes you a little in awe at how fast time is passing. “It’s kinda crazy, isn’t it?” you hum, squinting at the flood of people on the dance floor.

“It is,” Sunwoo hums, tonguing the inside of his cheek, “still can’t believe they’re dating. Hell, they’re getting married right now…” 

“You can’t believe your sister is dating your best friend?” you laugh, wiping the sweat that’s accumulated off your forehead, the mist appearing there both because of your reckless dancing and because of the unbearable heat of the August night.

“That, and also the other way around,” he hisses, “but I guess they’re both so insufferable that they go well together, so I don’t know why I’m still so surprised.”

Chuckling at his comment– you guess the bond he has with his sister is never to be changed, no matter how many years have passed– you watch as he shrugs off his suit jacket and throws it over the back of his chair, starting to roll up his sleeves to expose his forearms. Eyes following his motions, you clear your throat and force yourself to look back into his eyes when he asks you a question. “What about you, though? Are you enjoying yourself?”

“I am,” you nod, no hesitation, “it’s really nice to see all of you after so long. Plus, I’m having a lot of fun, so that’s a nice bonus." 

“I can see that,” he grins, “by the way you sat on my seat just now, and all–” 

“Oh god– I’m sorry,” you gasp, suddenly feeling a little silly. And here you thought he went up to you because he wanted to catch up… “I’ll move, if–”

The sound of Sunwoo’s hearty laugh lands into your ear– it’s just the same as it was back when you were both high schoolers, making your heart soar– before he shakes his head and urges you to stay with a motion of his hand, putting his large palm on your thigh to keep you from moving. “No, no, don’t be stupid,” he says, “I don’t mind. I was looking for you anyway, so you just made it easier for me by sitting here, actually.”

He was looking for you, resonates in your head, the familiar buzzing in your fingertips alerting you of the effect he has on you even tonight. God, maybe you were the one that had too much to drink…

“You were?” you ask, tone of voice light– not at all suspicious. 

Sunwoo nods, shrugging. “Well, I guess we have a lot of catching up to do,” he smiles, “don’t we?” 

Eyes meeting his, the contact feels electrifying to the point it makes your head spin when you look at him, taking in his glossy eyes and the flush of his cheeks. They’re less round than when you two were young, but his eyes still stay the same– big, round and tender.

He reminds you a lot of the time when you saw him drunk for the first time.

to. my first time getting drunk

April 1999

Havoc rings in his ears like jingle bells, the world around him spinning like he’s on a rollercoaster. His head feels like someone is installing a nail to the middle of his skull and when he looks around, Lee Donghyuck is staring at him with a glass bottle of soju in his hand, urging him to drink more.

Sunwoo doesn’t have it in him to do much else other than shake his head. It feels like he forgot all his vocabulary, not a single word coming out of his mouth or to the awake parts of his brain, watery eyes begging his classmate to not make him drink any more. 

What seemed like a good idea just a few moments ago– see, it’s prohibited to drink on school trips, but Kim Sunwoo is infamous for loving to break the rules– now seems like the worst idea of his whole entire life. He feels so sick he thinks he’s going to die of alcohol poisoning, but the laughter around keeps painfully reminding him that he hasn’t even had that much to drink in the first place. The amount of times he’s been called a lightweight this night is making his pride severely hurt, and even graciously intoxicated, he can’t bear the sting this is putting on his already hurt ego. 

“Come on, birthday boy! I’m sure you can handle one more,” Donghyuck urges, uncurling Sunwoo’s fist and placing the bottle into his grasp, making the poor boy wince and battle back tears. 

He knows he’s being embarrassing. The choice between not dying and not humiliating himself is rather a difficult one, but the moment he finally finishes the crossword puzzle in his brain and puts the glass opening against his lips, the bottle is thankfully taken out of his grasp and discarded somewhere where his eyes can’t reach.

“You’re done for the night, Kim Sunwoo,” you haul at him, shaking your head at the poor boy, “you’re done.”

Sunwoo wants to open his mouth and protest, maybe ask you what you mean, but the moment his lips unseal, he gets a sniff of the alcohol in the air and suddenly, he feels like throwing up. Your eyes lock with his, a pleading– maybe a warning– mirrors in Sunwoo’s gaze, and even though he’s so drunk he feels like he crossed dimensions, he applauds your ability to know just what he means by a single look into his eyes.

“Oh, Christ–” you curse, hurried steps moving to the corner of the room, swiftly grabbing the trash can and running back towards your friend sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor. 

You make it just in time to catch the contains of Sunwoo’s stomach into the trash can, making the boy insanely grateful– he’s wearing the new shoes his mum got him for his birthday, and god knows he’d hate it if he ruined them the very first day he can show them off to his football friends.

The whole world disappears into the background as he throws up while making a mental promise to himself to never drink again. The only thing keeping him from losing it all is the feeling of your hand on his back, comforting rubs grounding him back to earth. Giggles fill his ears and he’s sure everyone’s laughing at him– even in his drunken state, he can recognise the shame filling his veins– but before he can open his mouth to argue with his classmates, the sound of your angry voice makes him seal his lips close and listen to the scolding you offer to his teammates for making him drink so much.

“You know he has a weak stomach, Donghyuck!” you huff and puff, your hand still drawing comforting circles to Sunwoo’s back as his head stays stuck in the bucket, not having enough energy to even straighten his spine. 

“It’s his birthday! Come on, don’t be so tight-arsed.”

“Well, do you want him to die on his day of birth? That’s not very cool of you,” you growl, the shuffle of your clothing and a pained “ow” escaping his friend’s lips hinting to Sunwoo that you just kicked the right wing to his shin. 

Deserved, Sunwoo thinks.

“Can somebody get Eric? I’m pretty sure he’s in Daehwi’s room with MB!Y/N, Minjeong and Jihoon,” you hum, waiting for anyone to follow your orders. 

Sunwoo blinks in and out of it, his consciousness giving up on him with the incredible pain in his temples. He feels incredibly grateful to have someone like you by his side not only now, but all the time. The two of you have gotten incredibly closer ever since he joined the football team– and with you being one of the cheerleaders, you’re always somehow around. Not that he’s complaining, of course. It seems like you are one of the more responsible ones in this room right now, and god knows Sunwoo needs a bit of guidance on his day to day ventures.

“Do you think you’ll be sick again?” you ask, voice soft in his ear. “Or can I take the trash can off you now?”

Sunwoo thinks for a bit, then he nods and lets go of the plastic bucket. He doesn’t know what happens to it after and nor does he care– it seems like the alcohol in his veins took away all his sense of object permanence. He can barely see anything in the yellow lights of the room (which makes him believe he is going blind from all the alcohol he’s had– don’t tell him it’s just his eyes getting hazy and confused with how much his head is spinning), but he’s sure he can feel you wiping his tear-stained cheeks (he wasn’t crying– his eyes were just watering) and pulling him closer to you when he threatens to fall over even in his seated position. Your hand comes up to play with his hair when you let him rest his head against your shoulder, your actions making him sleepy, eyes closing on themselves like a threat for him to fall asleep any second.

Something about the care, the loyal protectiveness you take over the boy makes his heart soften. He breaths in your scent, trying his hardest to focus on your presence and not the weird feeling in his stomach– although it’s settled a bit since he threw up, it’s still a little uneasy– and before he knows it, there’s a tap on his shoulder waking him up from the haze.

Sunwoo mourns, not really wanting to move from his position, too comfortable with your fingers threading through his hair– but much to his dismay, your soft voice appears in his ear, telling him he has to get up. “Can you walk on your own? We’re gonna get you back to your room,” you hum, your lips accidentally brushing against the shell of his ear, making everything in him light on fire. He’s not really sure if this is the effect alcohol has on you, but if it is, he’s certain he never wants to drink again.

“Sunwoo?” you call, the way you say his name suddenly all too angelic in his ears– but still not enough for him to answer. “Alright,” you sigh after the dreadful silence, taking charge of the situation, moving away from the boy and offering him your hands to hold on to as you try to get him on his feet, “I guess we’re gonna find out.”

His fingers intertwine with yours as he stares up at you, his vision blurry, but still sharp enough to make out your tired face. The sight is enough to make Sunwoo worry– is he being too much? Are you mad at him? Do you not want to be his friend anymore? – but before he has a chance to address any of those concerns, he’s being tugged up to his feet. Not ready for the weight of his own body, his knees buckle and refuse to work. There is a pair of hands clutching his arm automatically– yours– as another pair holds him up from behind by his waist. 

He’s not really sure who was his other savior, but by the silent curse heard from behind, he thinks he recognises Eric’s voice. 

“I know I shouldn’t have left him alone,” he hears his best friend say, voice full of frustration.

“You really shouldn’t have,” he hears you sigh, making the poor boy scowl.

It still feels like he can’t really speak, exhaustion taking a toll on him, but he follows the orders as you tell him to get on his best friend’s back– Eric’s crouching figure ready for the impact, waiting for the taller one to clutch onto him so he can carry him into the safety of their shared room. The operation has to be quick if they don’t want to be caught by their teachers while walking through the hall, and somehow, in the distant crevices of his brain, Sunwoo recognises that and he makes no battle to resist, doing exactly as he’s told.

“Man, you’re heavy,” he hears Eric huff under him as the poor boy carries him through the hall. “You’re gonna have a killer hangover tomorrow, dude…”

Sunwoo’s head rests against his friend’s shoulder, hands carelessly hanging around Eric’s neck. He tries to blink away the sleep, desiring to stay awake, when your concerned face appears in his vision and suddenly, he feels insanely guilty.

“I’m sorry,” the two words escape his mouth with no trouble– the first words to appear in his vocabulary after the few minutes of him being surprisingly mute– only to hear his friend chuckle.

“Well, you’re going to be dying from a headache tomorrow, not us,” Eric hums, “so I think you have to apologize to future you first.”

Sunwoo pouts, bangs falling into his eyes making him blink in a desperate try to get the stray hairs away, attempting to make eye contact with your side profile. “Are you mad at me?” he asks, voice a little groggy from all the screaming and drinking.

“What?” you ask, genuinely surprised to hear his question. Your face morphs into a confused expression, the one where a wrinkle appears in between your brows– and it takes everything in Sunwoo not to poke the little line with his pointer finger in utter endearance.

“Are you… mad…?” he asks again, watching as your face morphs into amusement.

“No,” you shake your head, a hint of a laugh in your tone. “Why?”

“You look grumpy.”

“I’m just worried,” you note.

“About?” Sunwoo asks, his intelligence morphing into a one of a 10-year old with the influence the alcohol has on him. 

“You,” you say, sighing and shaking your head as you move two steps in front of Eric and open the door to their room, closing it swiftly behind you and following the duo towards Sunwoo’s bed. 

The younger one drops the boy into the cushions of his bed with an exaggerated sigh (that might as well be real, for all we know– god knows you wouldn’t be able to carry Sunwoo on your own), and the comfort of the pillow around his head is enough to make Sunwoo’s eyes start closing again, sleep threatening to take over his consciousness.

There’s some noise interrupting his sleep, though, making the boy tear his tired eyes open to notice you walking through the room. Sunwoo finds Eric putting a glass of water onto his bedside table and watches as you put a trash can beside his bed, hushed whispers sent Eric’s way resonating in the quiet room. “Make sure that he sleeps on his side so if he throws up again, he doesn’t choke–”

“Y/N?” he calls your name, watching as you look at him with careful eyes.

“Hm?”

“Are you leaving?” he asks, maybe a little foolishly.

“Yes.”

The boy nods at your reaction, showing his acknowledgement. In the drunken state of his mind, he knows he doesn’t particularly want you to leave, but he’s also fairly certain, finding the rational thought in the sober part of his brain, that you have to leave, and so he lets it go. The drunken state of his mind wins, though, when the next sentence foolishly escapes his lips.

“Please don’t stop liking me after this,” he mumbles, words slurring.

“What?” you ask– confused because you either don’t fully comprehend what he’s trying to say, or because you truly just couldn’t hear what words escaped his mouth– but when you don’t get a clarification, you just nod at the boy, seemingly desperate to keep him happy tonight. “Okay, I won’t.”

“You won’t stop liking me?” he asks, a big pout playing with his features.

“No.”

“Okay.”

That seems to put his mind at ease– enough to make his brain finally turn off and lead him to sleep. He doesn’t really remember what he dreamt of that night, but the last memory he has of the night of his 18th birthday is that you promised to not stop liking him after seeing him a drunken mess, and how he so deeply wished you’ll continue to like him forever.

It hits him only a few months later that the thing he so desperately hoped for that night was that you’ll keep liking him even at his worst– that he didn’t drive you away and one day, maybe, you’ll like him more than just a friend.

to. my first detention

September 1999

Sunwoo was never the one to break the rules. 

Well, if you don’t count that one time he skipped class just because he got too bored of it in the middle of the lecture. And it wasn’t even that hard either– he just asked if he could go to the bathroom, and when he got the approval, he stood up and left, never returning. 

Or if you don’t count that one time he climbed up the ladder on the side of the school building with his friend Juyeon and had his lunch there. Or that one time he cheated on an exam and made a scene about it when accused of the act, leading the professor into letting him off just that one time. 

Sunwoo is usually too lazy to break the rules. Some days, paradoxically, his laziness is what leads him to break the rules. He can’t really help it, even if he tried.

The one time he does break the rules, expecting to be punished by his teacher for coming late to class, it’s not even his fault in the first place. Morning football practice ran late and he didn’t feel like rushing to change out of his practice clothing– see, the laziness is playing a part in this as well– so when he arrived into his Physics lecture, the clock was already 15 minutes after the bell rang for the first period.

Much to his surprise, his teacher didn’t even punish him. “Well, you’re an athlete, so it’s understandable,” he heard, making his lips stretch out into a subtle smile. If he knew that joining the football club would lead him to have such privileges, he would’ve done it a long time ago. 

How did he still end up in detention, you may ask? Well, that’s a funny question.

Your flushed face appears in the doorway of the classroom exactly 2 minutes after Sunwoo does, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Your hair tied up in a ponytail is loose now, stray hairs falling out to frame your face, your school uniform wrinkly, shirt not tucked in properly, as you spit out endless apologies to your teacher about being late for lecture.

“I’m really, really sorry about being late,” you bow, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you look around the classroom with apologetic eyes, “I had cheerleading practice and it ran a bit late, so I didn’t have enough time to–”

“Sit, Ms Y/L/N,” the teacher hums, “if you have time to do any other activities other than being in class, I’m sure you’ll have time to stay after class for detention, am I right?”

“Sir, I really–”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Now, are you seeing the difference in the way you and Sunwoo were treated? That’s right. It may not look like it, because the young football player rarely puts effort into anything (other than the game), but when something angers him, it’s quite difficult for him to keep it in. 

And that’s exactly why his ass is currently sitting in one of the chairs of his classroom, legs spread wide as he looks around the silent room in boredom. Accusing his teacher for being sexist and holding to double standards wasn’t the best idea, but it was enough to get him into detention alongside you. 

His eyes get caught up with something– someone– sitting two desks in front of him, one to the right, scribbling their homework into their notebook. At least you are using up the detention time for important and useful things, he thinks. That won’t stop him from interrupting you in your task, though. Even better– it encourages him.

Tearing out a piece of paper from his notebook, Sunwoo fishes for a pen in one of his pockets, writing a short note that says: Wanna get ramen after this? before he crumbles the paper into a small ball. After watching the teacher for a few seconds, making sure that he’s not going to get caught, he throws the ball in your direction, aiming straight for your head.

He misses. Well, that’s why he plays football and not volleyball– he doesn’t have good aim when it comes to his hands– but nonetheless, the note ends up hitting your shoulder before it bounces off and falls to the ground.

Confused, you look around before you find Sunwoo staring at you, pointing towards the paper on the ground with a grin on his face. You sigh, sending a telepathic signal of ‘you’re acting like a child again,’ straight into his brain before you reach for the paper ball and take it into your hands, fingers uncurling the thin material and reading out the words he’s sent to you.

Only a few seconds pass before you throw the ball back to him– he catches it in his hands, earning an approving look from you at his strangely fast reflexes, making a sense of victory flow gracefully through his veins. A frown settles on his face when he reads out your reply, though.

can’t. I promised Aeri I’ll hang out with her later. we’re going for frozen yogurt.

Sunwoo furrows his brows. Oh how he hates to be denied. 

I can join!! i could use some froyo

You send a tired look to him over your shoulder when you receive the message, rolling your eyes at his comment. It’s obvious that Sunwoo can’t join– he knows it by the look in your eyes. Hell, he knew he wasn’t invited even before he asked– he just likes to see your frustration. Something about the way your face scrunches up, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, amuses him in a way he can’t really describe.

you could’ve gotten yours instead of staying in detention. what was that about, by the way?? I’ve never seen anyone willingly do detention… you must be out of your mind

The message makes him chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. His motives are clear– well, at least in his brain. If he stays in detention, he can see you for some more. Which means he can hang out with you more (or look at the back of your head from afar, whichever you grace him with on that particular day). And he wants to spend as much time with you as he can, well, because… because he just likes to do so. Why?

Don’t ask. He hasn’t thought it out that far yet.

I just like things to be fair. I came late too :(( 

He writes back instead. Fairness is the last thing he cares about if the world is in his favor. If the world is unfair to you, though– that’s another thing. 

weirdo.

You write back. The pen is already in his hand, ink getting hotter as he masters up a reply, when the loud voice of his teacher cuts through the classroom and announces that detention is over and they’re all dismissed. Something in Sunwoo’s stomach drops. 

Sighing, he puts the note back into his pocket (and will forget to throw it out. Then, he’ll find it there after a few days, unravel the ball and read over the letters with a smile. He won’t throw it out then either– he’ll crumble it back and keep it there until the paper wears out and forms into litter in the pocket of his pants). Gathering his things into his bag, he swings the backpack over one of his shoulders before catching up with you, already halfway out of the classroom. You seem to be in a rush to meet Aeri– he understands– but there’s still one more thing he needs to do.

Clearing his throat, Sunwoo approaches you from the back. “Hey!”

“Hi,” you hum, adjusting the bag on your shoulder. “Aeri’s waiting for me outside, so I gotta–”

“Wait, I– I have something for you,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. Why does he suddenly feel so nervous? The words his sister said to him yesterday keep resonating in his head, and although he knows it’s not true and he doesn’t see you in that way, his stomach churns and he clutches his hand into a fist by his side, a desperate act to ground himself.

“What?” you look at him, eyebrows furrowed, all confused. Sunwoo’s not the one to give gifts– sure, he pays for your meals sometimes, but that’s only because you share them and he comes to the logical conclusion that he eats more of the portion than you do anyways, so it’s only fair.

“Um… well, my sister… she was making those bracelets yesterday and she made me do it with her, because she’s really annoying when she wants to be,” he mumbles, fishing for the bracelet in the front pocket of his backpack, lying straight through his teeth. 

You stare at him with wide eyes, completely unreadable to Sunwoo. Well, he already said it, so he may as well just dig his hole even deeper. The yarn is soft under his touch when he twirls the bracelet in his fingertips, eyes focusing on the shades of red and pink, suddenly too afraid to face you and look you in the eyes. “And, uh… we made too many, so I brought you one, because… you’re my friend, and all,” he mumbles, chewing the inside of his cheek.

His sneakers are oh so interesting to look at in the few seconds he spends waiting for your reply. He feels like he’s in court, waiting for his ordeal– anxiety making him bounce on the tips of his feet, his other hand clutching the strap of his backpack for dear life. 

“Did you make that?” you ask, tone of voice genuinely appreciative.

“Yeah,” he shrugs. 

He did not.

“That’s– that’s really cute,” you gasp, making the boy finally look up. When he finds that the words are addressed to the bracelet his sister made, not his act of kindness, something inside of him gets irritated, but the little devil in his chest leaves just as fast when you meet his eye and take the yarn from his hands, examining the red and pink knots from a closer distance.

“Yeah,” he hums, not really knowing what to say.

“Can you tie it for me?” you ask, offering the bracelet back to the boy and smiling at him, waiting for him to circle it around your wrist and secure it to place with a knot. It’s a bit long, the ends sticking out to different directions, but Sunwoo admits that it does look quite nice against your skin, and that if he forgets about the fact that it was his sister who actually made the bracelet (even though he begged her to teach him for approximately two hours, going as far as bribing her with his snacks), he does feel quite proud of the gesture.

There’s something possessive about the bracelet, he thinks. It's like a sign to everyone that you have someone who cares about you enough to tie it around your wrist. It’s like saying hey, this is my best friend! No one else enjoys their company enough to make a bracelet to prove it, but me. It’s like a silent translation of the heart’s calling: this person is mine. They’re not allowed to take this off until I die.

Sunwoo feels a bit giddy as he watches you admire the yarn around your wrist. You sport the same expression as Eric did when he forced a bracelet out of his sister yesterday– eyes glimmering, the widest grin on your features. While he may be sure what the face meant when it came to his best friend (although he tries to close his eyes from the obvious crush he has on his sister), he’s not quite certain when it comes to you.

In his mind, you smile like this at everyone. You’re just that kind of person.

But oh does he wish you mirror Eric’s feelings on the matter. Oh does he hope you tell everyone he is the one who gave the bracelet to you– he hopes you boost in front of your friends, tell them just how much you like it.

…maybe his sister was right. 

Maybe the bracelet had a deeper intention.

August 2007

“So,” Sunwoo hums, taking a salty chip from the bowl settled in the middle of the table, looking over at you with a curious gaze, “how have you been?” he asks, chewing as he waits for you to answer.

It’s an easy question, one would think– and it’s true, it’s not the most difficult thing to answer. But considering the circumstances, the fact that you and Kim Sunwoo haven’t seen each other since you both graduated from high school, despite telling each other you’ll stay in contact and see each other whenever you have the chance to– it gets a little bit more difficult. It’s been 6 years, many things have changed, you had your fair share of good things happening to you as well as the bad. 

What do you tell Sunwoo, though– a friend you lost somewhere along the way, much like everyone? Well, you can’t really blame him for growing distant with you– although to this day, you don’t really know the reasoning. He was the first one to leave, and although you always wished him the best, nobody can really blame you for doing your part at flying out of your nest. Everyone has to experience the outside world before they can find their place in it, no? 

It’s not your fault that you weren’t as successful as you wanted to be… 

“Well, you know,” you shrug, “so and so. Many things happened, but I guess I’m doing fine,” you conclude, nodding to yourself.

The face Sunwoo offers you is one of concern. You recognise that this is not really what he wanted to hear– not really what he expected you to say. The both of you were always ambitious, shooting for the stars, so it would be nice to know that at least one of you finally chased down the dreams you’ve had since you were young.

“What about you?” you ask quickly, shielding yourself from more interrogation. “How did football go?” 

That has Sunwoo chuckling, averting his gaze. He takes a sip of the soda placed on his table before he turns to you again and answers the question, shrugging to himself. “Didn’t really go as I planned,” he says, nodding to himself. “Guess I lost many years on it, but oh well. Can’t really take it back now.”

“Don’t say that,” you hum, chewing on the inside of your cheek. The answer he offered you was not surprising to you– not that you didn’t believe in his abilities, not at all. It’s just that by now, if Sunwoo’s dreams came true, you’d be aware. You’d hear about him everywhere. You’d see him on the news, in the paper… It seems like your friend has disappeared out of the spotlight he always wanted even sooner than he could walk straight into the stardom. You wouldn’t say you were keeping tabs on him, no– you just cared enough to try to look for him in every place you could. “It wasn’t lost years. You did what you loved, and you tried your best.”

“I know,” he says, scrunching up his nose in an adorable manner before he sighs, “I’m just moping around. Besides, I quite like the life I’ve had since coming back home,” he admits.

“You do?” you ask, eyes glimmering in the lights. Something in you shifts– moves to a more comfortable place at the information. It’s strange that hearing that he’s doing fine still makes you feel at peace. It’s been years– you really shouldn’t care by now.

“I do,” he nods, “I work at Juyeon’s father’s bakery now. I didn’t really expect to like it, but there’s something charming about it, I’ll have you know,” Sunwoo says, taking another handful of chips into his hand before feeding them to himself, seemingly trying to chase down the tipsiness in his bloodstream.

That drags out a giggle out of you, shaking your head at the news. “I wouldn’t take you for a bakery kind of guy,” you say, “I can’t really imagine you in the kitchen.”

“Well, times change, Y/N-ie,” the nickname slips out between his lips like a punch to your gut, his teasing tone dragging nails to you in a weird sense of nostalgia, “I’m the best baker in town right now. People go crazy over my cinnamon rolls,” he nods, pointing a finger to you as if to prove his point.

“I find that hard to believe,” you squint at him, shaking your head in disbelief.

“You’ll have to come and find out,” he says, the sentence so casual that the contrast of his following statement has your heart drop a little, “well, if you’re… staying around for a bit, of course…”

Humming, watching as his eyes soften at the shift in your composure, you nod in agreement. “I’ll make sure to add that to my plan.”

Sunwoo nods in acknowledgement. Swallowing down the chips that were in his mouth, he dusts off his hands off the excess salt and licks his lips before speaking up again, seemingly collecting his thoughts. “So you’re staying around for a while?” he asks, a little bit cautious. 

He doesn’t really know how sensitive this topic is for you– you don’t even know if he’s aware of your previous whereabouts, if he knows where you left off to and why– but Sunwoo stays caring, no matter the amount of time you spent not talking, no matter the big canyon that slowly formed in between the two of you in the years of no contact. It’s something you’ve always appreciated about him. He liked joking around, but he always knew where the boundaries laid, always knew when the joke went too far. He tried hard to avoid poking around too much, but he always made sure to apologize if he realized he hurt someone’s feelings. He’s a spark of violent fire, but he’s also tamed like a fireplace when he wants to be– warm, comfortable. It’s easy to feel like it’s back in the old times when you’re around him. It’s easy to pretend neither of you ever really left.

“I am,” you nod. “Things… didn’t really work out for me either, y’know,” you chuckle, the dry kind that shows just how bitter you are about the matter. “I went to New York with the internship my aunt arranged for me in KBS, but I guess I just… wasn’t really good enough to keep full-time.”

“Don’t say that,” Sunwoo mirrors your previous statement, an honest attempt at comforting you.

“No, it’s okay,” you laugh, “I stayed abroad for a while, tried hard, but sometimes, it’s just not meant to be, y’know? So after I realized my jobs weren’t making me enough money for a decent living in the States, I came back home,” you say, mouth forming a pout as you speak– the kind that shows you’re lost in thought, making up a plan as you go, “I’ll help my parents out for a while and then look for something to do here, I think.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad,” Sunwoo says, offering you a soft smile. “I… I guess I’d say it’s good to have you back,” he admits, averting his gaze as he says the words, “ever since I came home, it felt like something was missing, so… anyways, you’ll figure it out, so don’t worry too much.”

“Thanks, Sunwoo,” you hum, pressing your lips into a tight smile, heart squeezing a little at his sincerity. It’s strange– it’s been years, having lived through countless different situations that were supposed to change the both of you, shift you into two completely different people– but somehow, Sunwoo still feels the same. Almost as if you two never left. Almost as if you two never drifted apart and instead spent your early twenties side-by-side, just like you always planned on doing.

The boy looks at you from the corner of his eye, a content smile spreading on his lips. You feel the atmosphere shifting, the situation tensing up a bit, and with the discomfort the image of him leaving you alone brings you, the words slip out of your lips with a bit too much ease.

“Would you want to… dance with me? I wanna see if you still remember what I taught you,” you grin, watching as the playful expression mirrors on your friend’s face, a nod eliciting from him that makes you quickly put your shoes back on and get ready for the dancefloor.

“Of course,” he hums, standing up swiftly and wiping his hands on the fabric of his pants before outstretching a hand for you, tone of voice sweet like honey, “my lady?”

to. my first dance

November 1999

“Who are you asking to the dance?” you question one afternoon, the two of you behind the closed doors of his room. There aren’t many times where Sunwoo gets to invite you over– mostly because he’s too shy to have someone around when his sister is home, and his sister isn’t known to have that many friends to hang out with– so the times where he finds you settled on top of the sheets of his bed, he treasures deeply.

“I dunno,” he mumbles, looking up at you from the comfort of his rug, shrugging, “I don’t really think I’m going, actually.”

“Oh?” you gasp, pouting at the boy. “Why not?”

“I don’t really have anyone to go with,” he says. What he really means is– you’re going with someone else. Sunwoo doesn’t really see himself dancing with anyone else but you– that’s just that kind of bond you two have in his mind. Your friendship is dear to Sunwoo, and the boy can’t think of anyone else he’d like to spend the evening with. 

When his sister argued with him with logical words, telling him that he treasures his friendship with Eric just the same, but wouldn’t invite him to the prom, he just scoffed at her. MB!Y/N doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t treasure Eric in the same way, no matter the fact that they pretty much grew up together. Some things just don’t feel the same way with Eric as they do with you. He feels closer to you, in a way.

“Well, that’s bullshit,” you scoff, shaking your head at your friend, “you’re handsome. And you play football, which is every girl’s dream. I bet anyone would go with you if you just asked,” you propose, pointing a finger at the boy, not really noticing the way he blinks at hearing the words ‘you’re handsome’ coming out of your mouth in regards to him. 

Do you find him handsome? Is that your subjective opinion or are you just objectively saying what you’ve heard in the cheerleader changing rooms? 

He’d like to know. Just out of curiosity.

Sunwoo scratches the back of his neck in nerves, now fully seated and facing you. It’s hard to meet your eye when he talks, his words coming out muffled. “I can’t dance anyway, so it would be no fun for everyone involved.”

And watching you dance with his classmate Shotaro would be no fun either. See, it would be easy for Sunwoo to be okay with the fact that you were going to the prom with someone older (which is practically impossible, since you’re both seniors, just for the record…). He would understand your point, then. It’s easy to be okay with defeat when your opponent has the upper hand, but when you put two men against each other that are hierarchically equal to each other, much like Sunwoo and Shotaro, the poor boy finds it hard to not feel as insecure in his position. 

But with Shotaro being the same age as him and the same amount of popular as him, Sunwoo can’t help but compare himself to his classmate. What does Shotaro have that Sunwoo doesn’t? Is it his smile? Should Sunwoo smile more…? 

It doesn’t really help his case that you’re going to the prom with the head of the dance team. Sunwoo can’t dance… Is it the fact that he can’t dance?

Or are you just going to the prom with Shotaro because he was the one to ask you to go? Sunwoo can’t help but wonder– would you have gone with him, had he the balls and asked you first? 

“What do you mean, you can’t dance?” you say, eyeing the male. 

“Just… never learned to, I guess,” Sunwoo shrugs, “but it doesn’t really matter, since I’m not going, so…”

“But you have to go,” you pout, putting the boy in a difficult position. He doesn’t know if you’re aware of the fact, but your pleading look does wonders to his decision making. He’d commit arson if you asked him to with those glimmers in your eyes. He’d kill for you. Or die for you. Both, depending on the situation. He’d do anything.

“Why?”

“It won’t be fun if you’re not there,” you say, sighing. Your face looks so genuine Sunwoo almost believes it. It makes his heart squeeze and contemplate his decision. “I know Donghyuck is gonna spike the punch, and there are gonna be fireworks,” you hum, chewing on the inside of your cheek, “and this is our senior prom, Sunwoo… you have to come.”

The words resonate in his brain, making him even more hesitant about his decision. This is your senior prom– the last dance of your high school years. The last opportunity for Sunwoo to enjoy this time with you and his friends, the last chance he gets at seeing you in a pretty gown, all dolled up and smiling from the sneaky sips of alcohol you’ll get with everyone outside of the school gym. The last opportunity for Sunwoo to dance with you, his best friend, and possibly the last time he’ll ever enjoy his evening with the rest of his football team before all of them have to study in order for them to take their CSAT.

Maybe you’re right. Maybe he should go. 

“I’ll think about it, I guess…” he mumbles, watching as your face morphs.

“You guess?” you scoff, glaring at him. “You’ll go or I’ll personally come to your house and drag you there by your hair, you get me, Kim Sunwoo?” you threaten him, having the boy laugh at your outburst. You’re really adorable when you tease him, Sunwoo thinks. 

“Got it, chief,” he says, offering you a playful look as he salutes and lays back down onto the carpet, eyes pressed to the ceiling. “Don’t expect me to dance, though, because I refuse to embarrass myself. I have quite the reputation to uphold, you see.”

Sunwoo hears you chuckle, the noise of his sheets tousling landing into his ears. Before he has a chance to look at you and see what you’re doing, his view of the white wall above is shielded with the sight of your face, hair framing your cheeks as you stare down at him and put out your hands, waiting for him to take them and get up to a seated position. 

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“I’m gonna teach you, come on,” you call him with a motion of your hand, arms still outstretched and waiting.

“Huh?” he squints, watching as you roll your eyes in frustration.

“I’ll teach you how to dance, Sunwoo,” you snicker, watching as the boy slowly takes your hands and lets you drag him up from where he’s laying on his electric blue rug, “so you don’t embarrass yourself.”

That has Sunwoo stuttering, his figure freezing even when you manage to somehow make him stand up in the middle of his room. A million different exclamation marks appear all over his brain, warning him from the upcoming events, but he has no way of denying your proposition now, no matter how hard he tries. “No- it’s- you don’t have to, I’ll just-”

“Okay, so,” you say, dismissing all his previous attempts at stopping you from your quest, “first, you put your hand here,” you order.

The skin of your fingertips touches Sunwoo’s hand, making the boy’s heart stummer in his chest. You drag his palm towards your waist, placing it on the curve of your body. He swears he feels electricity flowing through the contact, warmth radiating off your skin even though it’s shielded by the fabric of your favorite shirt. He gulps as you put your hand on his shoulder, his eyes carefully following your movements, examining every slightest shift of your composure. 

“And then you hold my hand with your other hand,” you instruct, but move to do it yourself when the boy doesn’t seem to have it in him to reach for your palm himself. 

Your fingers interlock with his, making the boy chew on his bottom lip in a sudden flash of nerves. You’re standing so close he can smell your perfume, the scent making his head spin and feel lightheaded. If you made him turn in this moment, he’s sure he’d fall over, weak legs barely holding him up in your close proximity. 

“Sunwoo?” you ask, making the boy gulp before he hums in acknowledgement.

“You have to look into my eyes when you slow dance,” you laugh, the sound soft and airy, but enough to have his stomach feel all weird, like he’s about to throw up. Still, he forces himself to look into your eyes, instantly feeling like you’re hypnotizing him. (He’s convinced he’d jump out of his window right in this moment if you asked him to.)

“Okay,” he nods, standing still, maintaining eye contact. His body is stiff, muscles tense as you just stand there for a moment. Sunwoo battles his inner fight and doesn’t look at any other features of your face– he has a weird obsession with staring at your lips whenever you talk to him lately. He feels like a weirdo every time he catches himself doing it, so he tries to get rid of the bad habit as much as he can.

“Now, you just… kind of sway to the beat,” you say. The boy nods, but his body stays unmoving.

“There’s… there’s no music playing,” he gets out, watching as you chuckle, your lips stretching out into an adorable grin.

“Right,” you nod, sighing, “well, I’ll just… let me just…” you mumble before you start humming a tune– one that makes Sunwoo laugh from how ridiculous it sounds, the notes so unfamiliar to him he’s sure you’re making it up as you go. Before he knows it, you start moving, making him mirror your actions. 

It’s not as difficult as he thought it was, he thinks. You stare at him, all encouraging, as you sway from one foot to the other, nodding at him when you see that he’s following your lead well. Dancing with you suddenly feels like the easiest thing in the world, it feels like he was born to have you in his arms, in the middle of his room as you hum an unfamiliar song to him. He thinks going to the dance won’t be so bad– not if he gets to dance with you there for at least one more time.

“Doing well,” you smile, making the boy feel all warm on the inside. A feeling of victory flashes over him for a mere second. He beams in your considerate words, feels fuzzy under your warm gaze. He feels like he just won the lottery. It’s kind of silly, if he really thinks about it.

A boyish grin appears on his face, having Sunwoo shaking his head at how both ridiculous and over the moon he feels right now. The stream of hums coming out of your throat cuts off for a second as you talk to him with an instructing tone, a warm gaze pressed into his features. “So you can either do this, or you can…” the hand that was holding his suddenly untangles itself from between his fingertips (and Sunwoo’s momentarily glad, because his palm was getting quite sweaty– although he admits that it does feel empty now that you’re not holding it), before you place his other hand on your waist as well. 

Something about the pose makes Sunwoo feel strangely intimate, a little bit bashful under your gaze. It only intensifies when your hands go up and entangle behind his neck, bringing you two even closer than before. The proximity has him blushing, red cheeks bringing heat to his face. He prays you don’t mention it– he really doesn’t know if he would be able to talk himself out of this one.

“Or you can do it like this,” you say before you lead the boy again, bodies swaying to an imaginary rhythm. You’re not even humming this time, having Sunwoo follow your movements in complete silence, his aimless movements mirroring your own. He’s surprised he hasn’t stepped on your foot yet when you decide to quickly teach him how to waltz (while also mumbling something about this dance being performed with the previous hand placement). He follows your orders– step forward, close, then another step backwards– and before he knows it, you’re leading him into a gentle turn, rising and falling in a ¾ count.

He’s getting lost in your voice– the softest “1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3,” helping him to stay in rhythm– before he’s pulled out of his trance as he feels your fingers playing with the hair on his nape, entangling yourself into his black locks. The motion has him look back up to your eyes (that have been previously glued to your feet, making sure he’s not stepping on your socked limbs), surprised when he sees you staring at him with a sweet smile playing with your lips.

Halting your movements for a bit, you let out a giggle and take him by surprise when your hand reaches up towards his bangs, ruffling his hair as he still holds you around your waist, the two of you almost hugging in his room. “See? Not that hard. You’re a born natural.”

His heart feels like it skipped a beat, a weird sense of panic enclosing around his chest. He doesn’t know what it is, not really knowing how to name the feeling, but it has him nervously smiling and urging him to escape you– escape your touch, escape your scent, your voice and the way you smile at him like you may feel the slightest ounce of the things he does for you, but refuses to accept on most days.

Rushed movements make him break apart from your grasp, quick breathing making him feel like he might spiral. 

“Hey! We weren’t done yet!” you call after him when he runs towards the door of his room. 

Not looking around, the boy gulps and nervously calls back to you, facing the door. “I’ll be back! I just have to pee!”

The door to his bathroom closes behind him with a loud shut. The boy doesn’t aim for the toilet– instead, he walks over to the sink, turning on the tap and splashing his face with ice cold water. When he’s done, feeling a bit less heated up, he looks up and stares at his face in the mirror. He gives himself some time to collect his thoughts, to hopefully let go of his foolishness.

How many more times will he have to remind himself that he only sees you as a friend?

to. my first date

January 2000

The snow crunches under his sneakers and makes Sunwoo slip on the cold surface– no wonder his mother screamed at him for not wearing his winter shoes before he went out with his friends. He bets it would be way less difficult to walk in the whiteness of the ground if he had more grip in the soles of his shoes, but oh well– he’s not really good at making clever decisions half the time. Nobody can really be surprised.

Somewhere along the way between the moment he’s interrogated his sister about the reason for her bad mood and the moment where he purposefully let her with his best friend at the top of the hill with no way out (he had a hunch the two of them had some things to talk about, from both of their uneasy demeanours for the last day), he realizes he lost both his sister and his best friend, and while he’s quite certain Eric can find his way home just fine, Sunwoo shivers at the thought of not bringing his sister home to his mother. He’s not quite sure he’d survive that. 

The quest of finding you both begins the moment the friend group reaches the top of the hill. Given his sister’s impulsiveness, she could’ve ran away from home, and that’s not what he wants to deal with on such a pretty winter day.

Sunwoo finds his plan being successful the moment he reaches the hot chocolate stand. The victory he feels after finding his younger sister alive and healthy is quickly overshadowed with the sight of his best friend’s face close to hers, very clearly going in for a kiss. He thinks he has to do something before he is permanently scarred with the image of them two making out right in front of his eyes as he gathers some of the icy texture into his hands and makes a ball, aiming straight at the head of his best friend.

The snow hits the both of them, right in the middle where their faces are supposed to meet. It’s not quite where Sunwoo was aiming, but he figures it’s good enough– it stopped his sister and his friend in the act, and that’s all he really cares about at this moment.

“Eric Sohn, what the fuck do you think you’re doing with my sister?” Sunwoo hollers, watching as his childhood friend takes off and leaves his sister alone on the bench to watch the conflict. The rest of the group follows with laughter as Sunwoo gathers more snow, tailing Eric and making sure the boy is punished for whatever he’s been doing.

It’s not like he disapproves. Not at all, actually. He just thinks it’s fun to mess with him a little.

“I didn’t mean to! Hey!” Eric cries out over his shoulder, trying his best to escape the frostbite. Karma is not on his side as he trips over something and falls to the ground, efficiently helping Sunwoo and the rest of their circle to corner the poor youngest, snow hailed on his limp figure. 

One would think the group of them were making a snowman with how they’re rolling the poor boy around in the snow. Juyeon and Donghyuck make sure there’s not a hint of skin unhidden by the ice, making Eric mourn and kick around– he’s left helpless, though, outpowered and outnumbered by his peers. If anyone unknowing was watching the scene, Sunwoo is sure he’d be framed for bullying.

He thinks it’s quite deserved. Why? He’s not really sure why. He just has a hunch.

“Okay! Enough!” Eric mumbles, shaking his head when Donghyuck tries to fit snow into his mouth. “I’m sorry! It won’t happen again!” he says, eyes opening wide as MB!Y/N appears somewhere behind her older brother, a teasing pout settled on her face.

“It won’t?”

“MB!Y/N– I– Just help me..?” the boy pleads, making the rest of the group laugh and finally relax, easing the attack. Juyeon hums something about young love, making the rest of the guys roll their eyes on his unusual cheesiness, before Donghyuck taps his teammate’s shoulder, making sure he’s paying attention to him.

Sunwoo raises his eyebrows at him, waiting for what he has to say. “Look, isn’t that Y/N?”

There are a few ways to catch Sunwoo’s attention. First– you have to mention football. He could spend hours on the topic of who’s the best player– Ko Jongsoo or Ahn Junghwan? If anyone asked him to write an essay on it, he’s quite certain he’d do a great job explaining their techniques and goal statistics for numerous pages. Second– you have to mention food. He’s a big fan of junk food, but ever since his friend Juyeon introduced him to their family bakery, he’s been a big cinnamon roll enthusiast. And third– you have to mention Y/N. 

Just the mention of your name is enough for the boy to stand alert, suddenly all too knowing of his surroundings. He turns his head to look for you, catching sight of your figure dressed in your long coat, standing all alone at the bottom of the hill. There’s an almost bored-looking expression on your face, although Sunwoo thinks there’s a bit of disappointment behind your eyes, making a cloud shade your them and make them lose their usual glimmer. That alone has the boy frowning, and before Donghyuck can say anything more or try to gossip about your sudden arrival, Sunwoo takes off– trying his hardest not to slip on the snow in his sneakers as he runs down the hill and tries his hardest to get to you quickly.

“Y/N!” he calls for you, getting your attention. You turn to him with expecting eyes, watching as the boy runs towards you and does, indeed, slip on the snow.

He manages to save it. Doesn’t mean you didn’t see him falter, though. “Careful there,” you grin, making the boy mentally kick himself in the shin at being uncool in front of you.

Sunwoo glosses over the comment, ignoring the previous two seconds of his life. If he acts like he’s not embarrassed, it might as well come true. “What are you doing here? I thought you said you’re hanging out with someone else when I invited you on the phone today,” he says, curious to know why you changed your plans so suddenly.

There’s a hint of bitterness in your composure when you shrug, averting your gaze. “That fell through, and I didn’t wanna… I figured you’d be here, so I came…” you trail off, your half-assed explanation enough to bring the boy into an inner conflict– one part of him feels bad for you, his heart clenching when he takes notice of your stern gaze and the disappointed expression on your face, the other one foolishly happy that he got to see you today, that you went here looking for him.

“Oh,” he nods, not really sure if he should pray more information out of you. He tried to ask you about it when he called you this morning, twirling the landline on his finger nervously when he asked you if you wanted to go sledding with him and his friends. He even mentioned his sister tagging along to make sure you didn’t feel as awkward going– you wouldn’t be the only girl there! You’d get along with her well, he said, not really sure if he was lying or not. Either way, his sister does need her own friends… “Well–” he starts, not really sure where his own sentence is going, before you cut him off with a rushed out sentence, spoken so quickly Sunwoo barely registers it in that confused brain of his.

“Would you wanna go on a date with me?” you ask, eyes big as you stare into his. 

The question takes a few seconds to register in Sunwoo’s brain. He can physically feel the auditory waves entering his ears and converting themselves into electrical signals by the auditory system. The signals enter his left hemisphere– maybe he could point towards the area with his finger if you asked him to, the impact of the question so present in his mind– and then it decodes in the Wernicke’s area, slowly, but surely making more and more sense to him. The boy gulps at the invitation. He understands the question theoretically now, he’s registered it in his brain, but the practical implication of your preposition is still unclear– why in the hell would you ask him to go on a date with you?

“I…” he stutters, feeling heat rushing to his cheeks. He feels like a fool– he should’ve said yes a few seconds ago, when you first asked the question– but something inside of him is telling him that maybe his reaction is valid. No one expects their friend to randomly ask them out on the bottom of a snowy hill. Certainly not when he was 99% sure you liked someone else.

“Look, it’s- it’s good if you don’t want to, really, I just… I was supposed to go on a date with Shotaro today, but he never arrived, and I…” you nervously scratch your neck, once again averting your gaze from him, “I guess I was hoping you were in the mood to go out with me, since I got all ready and stuff…” you mumble, your tone of voice breaking something inside of him.

Oh. So you weren’t really asking him out. You just didn’t want to feel like a fool that got stood up. How stupid of Sunwoo to think you wanted to go on a date with him. The two of you were just friends, after all. Best friends.

And best friends are for cheering each other up. So despite feeling absolutely defeated, Sunwoo battles the weird feeling in his chest and puts on his best smile. “Of course! Don’t even mention it. Where… where did you wanna go?” he asks, watching as your face relaxes, shoulders falling back to their natural position.

“Are you in the mood for some ramen?” you ask, eyebrows rising in question.

“I’m always in the mood for some ramen,” he nods. He’s always in the mood for whatever you are.

“Great,” you nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Great.”

“So… let’s go,” you say, nodding to yourself as you walk away from the hill, having your best friend tailing you, following you towards the ramen place in the center of the town.

There’s a bit of an awkward silence hanging over you as the two of you escape the sledding area. Sunwoo doesn’t even pay his goodbyes to his friends and his sister, but he trusts that Eric can get her home safely when the time comes to head back. The boy mentally curses out Shotaro for standing you up– how does he dare to ask you out and never arrive? He doesn’t care about the possible circumstances of his classmate’s absence. All he cares about is the saddened look on your face and the unusual quietness enveloping your aura. 

“Should I go kick his ass?” he asks, trying his hardest to make you feel better.

“It’s okay, Sunwoo,” you shake your head in disapproval, eyes pressed to the ground.

“Are you sure?” he asks again, not satisfied with your answer. “I’m quite good at fighting, contrary to popular belief, but if things go wrong, I know my friends would have my back,” he says, playfully punching the air.

The little play consisting of him kicking and punching an imaginary figure goes on for a while until he’s satisfied– meaning: until you’re left laughing at his overly exaggerated movements and grunts, shaking your head in disbelief at his boyish antics. Taking his hand in yours to make him stop with the play-fighting, you drag your now interlocked fingers towards your coat pocket, hiding his cold hand in the thick fabric.

Sunwoo’s heart beats fast at that, making him believe it’s going to run out of his chest any minute now– or make him go into cardiac arrest, either or– as he grows speechless, looking at you with big, surprised eyes. You don’t seem to put much meaning to your gesture, going as far as gently caressing your thumb over the back of his palm, his frozen skin growing hot at the contact. 

He’s never held hands with you before– if he doesn’t count the amount of times you dragged him around when the both of you were late for the shared cheerleading and football practice on Tuesday afternoons– and so the intimacy of the act makes him feel strangely weak in his knees. It’s hard for him to take his eyes off you, almost looking like a deer in the headlights to anyone watching you two right now. Sniffling from the cold, you shrug.

“It’s okay,” you smile, sending him a quick glance, “I didn’t really like him like that anyway. It just… feels a bit disappointing to get stood up, that’s all,” you nod.

Sunwoo nods at that too, something in him shifting. You don’t like Shotaro like that? When was this piece of information when he really needed it? (For like the last month, every time he couldn’t fall asleep because the thought of you marrying his classmate at one point in the future haunted him too much and made him want to poke the dance club leader’s eyes out?)

“I get it,” he says, walking along with you. Every time he feels the eyes of someone on you two, he feels his chest filling up with an unfamiliar sense of pride. Something about being seen with you as you’re all dolled up and holding his hand in your coat pocket makes him all giddy on the inside– no matter if this is a real date or not.

Because screw it, Kim Sunwoo is tired of reminding himself that he’s supposed to only see you as a friend. Because he doesn’t.

“I’ve never been on a date before, though, so you have to teach me all about that too,” he hums, tonguing the inside of his cheek. 

That has a giggle escaping your throat, another shake of your head in disbelief at his words. He doesn’t know what’s so funny, but he decides that as long as you’re laughing, he’s fine with feeling the tiniest bit of humiliation. He’d do anything to make you happy, he thinks. It’s a feeling stronger than him and he doesn’t know how to make it go away– he decided to stop battling it a long time ago.

“Just be yourself, Sunwoo,” you say, “that’s already perfect enough.”

Perfect. Sunwoo’s cheeks grow hot at that. He’s happy that it’s cold out– maybe he could blame his blushing on the weather. The boy isn’t so sure you know about the effect your words have on him. He’s always thought of you as perfect– flawless, funny, friendly, smart, kind and… and beautiful– but the adjective doesn’t quite seem fitting when he looks at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t believe you could hold him to such standards. He’s nothing special. God, he knows he’s not good enough for you– still, he keeps wishing he could be. 

“You look really pretty, by the way,” he hears himself say, the words escaping his mouth before he has the chance to stop them. The tone of his voice is quite unnatural in his ears, softer than it usually is, and somehow, the comment makes you roll your eyes, which he finds to be an unnatural reaction.

“You don’t have to say that just because you’re on a date with me,” you hum, eyes not meeting his. (Which might be a good thing. Sunwoo would like to keep his feelings hidden for a bit longer, and he’s not so sure you wouldn’t recognise the tender inkling he has towards you in his longing gaze.)

“I’m not saying it because of that,” he mutters, voice quiet, yet honest. 

Watching the side of your face, eyes still glued at every feature of your profile, he knows he’s not lying. He finds you oh so pretty even in the faint hue of the winter sun, with your scarf pulled up to the middle of your chin and hair pinned up with a pretty, silky bow. He finds you nothing short of angelic. Perfect. It’s kind of silly, if he really thinks about it.

Still, he can’t help himself. To this day, he counts the afternoon he spent with you, eating ramen at your favorite place, to be the first date he’s ever gone on.

Somewhere in the corner of his soul, he begs you count it as real too.

August 2007

It’s only a couple of days later when you find yourself in front of Juyeon’s father’s bakery, nervously chewing on your bottom lip and gazing at the glass door. The sun is shining strongly down on your skin, making you feel like you’re going to get a sun stroke if you keep standing in the direct light for any longer, and with the pressure of both the weather and your own thoughts, you decide to stop wasting time and push the door open, entering the establishment.

Not really sure if you’re welcome– who knows, Sunwoo might have just been acting nice and civil for the sake of not ruining his sister’s wedding– you prepared a mental shopping list of things you wanted to get at the bakery. You hadn’t seen your parents in a long time, so you thought a few donuts might make them happy. If Sunwoo just treats you like any regular customer when you walk in, you’ll take it as your sign to act like one and let this whole thing go. 

Truth be told, you don’t even know why you’re so nervous. It’s not like you’re promising yourself something more from this… right? 

It’s not like you suddenly felt younger again when seeing him at the wedding. It’s not like the memories choked you up when you went to sleep that night, it’s not like the feelings you had for the young boy suddenly waved at you in greeting, reminding you of just how close the two of you were all those years ago. 

Not at all. Why would anyone even think that?

The ring above the door makes a sound as you walk in, your insides clenching in a weird mix of nerves and anxiety at encountering Kim Sunwoo again. The store is empty when you reach the counter, but you’re soon greeted by the sound of the staff door opening, a tall figure stumbling in with a tray of pastries, yelling out a quick: “I’ll be right there!”

And as you watch Sunwoo with his bangs sticking to his forehead, an apron tied tightly around his thin waist, you feel like he hasn’t aged a single day and you two are still the same teenagers that ran around your school in order to not miss practice. The boy looks up at you from below his eyelashes, a boyish grin taking over his features as he puts the hot tray down on the counter and throws the kitchen towel he’s been using to shield his skin from the heat to the side, greeting you.

“Y/N! It’s nice seeing you again,” he beams, wiping his hands on his apron, gaze gluing to yours and never leaving, capturing you in a sincere eye contact that you don’t have the heart to break.

“Hi, Sunwoo,” you chuckle, pressing your lips into an honest, yet a little bit awkward smile. “How’s it going?” you ask, desperate to keep the conversation going– afraid that if it dies down, you won’t be able to revive it ever again and you’ll just regret it forever. There’s a weird sense of urgency in you, like you have a time limit to figure everything out– like you have to act now, or everything you ever wanted might slip from between your fingertips– yet, the more you watch Sunwoo in the serene atmosphere of the sweet-smelling bakery, you notice yourself relaxing.

“Good! Better now that you’re here, actually, it’s been a slow day,” he muses, nodding to himself. “What about you? Can I get you anything?” he asks, eyebrows raising, round cheeks on full display as he stares at you with an expecting smile.

“I’m doing well,” you nod, humming, “really well… catching up with my parents, settling in and stuff… You know the deal,” you laugh. “I actually came to get some donuts for my parents, sort-of like a thank you gift for letting me stay until I figure out my own place and stuff,” you say, watching as Sunwoo urgently nods with acknowledgement.

“Say less, darling,” the nickname slips out from him a little too easily, a little too casually for the way it captures your heart. It has you nervously shifting from one foot to another, insides warming up with the impact of his fleeting gaze as he moves to get a box from under the counter, moving closer to the glass vitrine filled with the sweet pastry. “Your mum loves these ones,” he points towards the donuts coated with the pink glazing.

It’s kind of weird– how Sunwoo knows exactly what your mother likes, despite him not being around your house every other day like when the two of you were teenagers. It makes you realize that even though you moved away for years, the time here didn’t stop. Everyone moved on with their lives, everyone continued on as if nothing happened. And you can’t hold it against them– you guess you just hate the weird pit in your stomach that opens up with the realization that while Sunwoo knows which pastries your mum likes (most likely because she stops by to buy bread often, taking some treats with her for her and dad while she’s at it), you don’t.

You try hard not to show it on your face, though. Sunwoo continues to pack more donuts into the box, not really attempting to ask you for what you’d like– he just chooses himself, making sure you bring home the best ones of the bunch, the most delicious ones they carry. Letting him do his work, merely watching as he carefully moves the donuts from the vitrine to the box, you hear him continue on with the conversation.

“You came in on the right day,” Sunwoo hums, “Juyeon works tomorrow, so you wouldn’t be able to catch me if you went.”

Ignoring the fact that he sees right through you– sees that your intention was to see him, to have a way to visit him and attempt to rekindle whatever bond you had when you were young– you just chuckle. You can’t blame him for knowing you so well, despite not being around each other for so many years. When you were young and in love, you used to call him your soulmate, after all. You guess there’s always a hint of truth, even in the most lovesick fantasies. “Well, then I’m glad I went in today,” you admit.

Sunwoo smiles at that– the kind of smile you always loved at him, the one where he shows his teeth and his eyes crinkle up into moon crescents. Once he’s done packing your donuts, he puts the box on the counter, showing you his back just as fast when he turns around, seemingly grabbing something else as well. When he’s facing you again, there’s a sweet pastry in his hand, still warm.

“What’s that?” you ask when you notice him offering it to you, eyes peering into his.

“A cinnamon roll,” he says, waiting for you to take it into your hands, “I told you everyone goes crazy over my cinnamon rolls, so I wanna see if their magic works on you too.”

“Is this how you flirt with girls over here?” you chuckle, but take the bun into your hand nonetheless, taking a hesitant bite of the treat. The sweetness melts on your tongue, the warmth of the freshly-baked pastry enchanting you with its taste, something about its essence weirdly reminding you of home. 

“Haven’t tried it before,” he shrugs, “so tell me if it’s working,” he jokes, watching as you chew on the roll. 

“Well, is it any good?”

Humming in satisfaction, delight on the tip of your tongue as you swallow down the heavenly dough, you nod. “It’s to die for, Sunwoo.”

“Told you,” he shoots you a cheesy finger-gun, reminding you so much of your best friend from high school, before he turns and takes a paper bag from somewhere, talking to you as his back faces you again, “I’ll get you some more to take home with you. I bet they didn’t have those in the Big Apple.”

“If I knew I was missing out on these, I would have come back quicker,” you joke, watching as Sunwoo turns to you with an amused look on his face, seemingly enjoying the praise.

The eye contact unarms you again, your composure falling just the slightest. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you clear your throat and reach for your wallet, ready to pay and leave so you can think about the interaction on your way home (and overthink every slightest detail, just like teenage you would after every fleeting touch young Sunwoo would send your way). “How much do I owe you?” you ask.

“Oh, it’s on the house,” he says, licking his lips, “consider it a… welcome gift, if you will,” he hums, offering you the box full of donuts and the paper bag consisting his infamous cinnamon rolls, your skin touching just the slightest when you take them from him, but still making electricity jolt through the nerve endings of your fingertips.

“No, Sunwoo, I really can’t-” you shake your head, but get caught off by him.

“Take them, please. You can pay me back some… other time?” he cautiously says, seemingly not really knowing if he’s still within your desired boundaries. 

“O-okay, then,” you nod, agreeing to the subtle invitation– the subtle promise to meet again, the hopeful question leading into something more. “Thank you, Sunwoo,” you hum, smiling as you turn towards the door and get prepared to walk out, giving both of you some time to think about what happened in the last few minutes.

As you open your mouth to say goodbye to him, hand landing on the doorknob, you hear him call after you once more.

“Oh and Y/N?” he says, a confident look suddenly overtaking his features. “I end here at 5, if you’d like to hang out after.”

Unknowingly, a grin appears on your features, the one that’s so strong you can’t really mask it no matter how hard you try– as you nod at him, the victorious feeling flowing through your veins maybe even a bit dangerous. Still, you don’t have it in you to turn the invitation down– you wouldn’t be able to even in your wildest dreams.

This is what you came here for, after all, isn’t it?

“Okay,” you agree. “So… I’ll see you later?”

“See you later,” he nods, teeth capturing his bottom lip. It’s kind of adorable. He couldn’t battle the smile threatening to pull at the corners of his mouth, no matter how hard he tried.

Maybe coming here– coming back home– was the best thing you could’ve done.

“Wanna come in?” Sunwoo asks. It’s a few hours later– you followed through with his invitation and waited for him in front of the bakery at 5:05 sharp, catching him after his shift. You two took a walk through the whole town, waltzing slowly through his neighborhood until you reached his childhood house. You remember far too many afternoons spent in the comfort of the walls, and although you think it would be nice to revisit those memories, you notice his mother’s car (is it still hers? You have no way of knowing.) in the driveway, and suddenly, you’re too shy to join him as he drops his stuff off in his house.

It’s like you’re a teenager again– except, you never had any problems meeting his mother before. She was a nice woman, although a little busy (you only heard Sunwoo complain about the fact a few times– mainly when he was feeling sentimental or particularly under the weather about something), and she always treated you very nicely. Almost like you were supposed to join the family one day. His sister once asked you if you’re gonna marry him, and you laughed at her back then– you were so young, you didn’t even think of having a wedding with Kim Sunwoo. The funniest thing was the timing: you weren’t even dating him at the time. Or planning to, really. Sure, you always imagined somehow spending the rest of your life with him, in one way or another, but the thought of marriage didn’t often cross your mind. Life is ironic, you think– MB!Y/N was the first one to have a wedding and here you are, retangling your life paths with her brother again. 

So no, you were never really scared or shy in front of his mother. Back then, things were different though. Simpler? You’d say they were definitely easier. You were more extroverted and open, more ambitious and less embarrassed of how your life turned out to be.

Also, you didn’t want to give her any ideas. It’s far too soon for that, you think. 

“No,” you shake your head, hesitating a little bit, “I’ll wait for you here,” you say, watching as he smiles at you and nods, walking inside of the house to drop off his things and change.

You two didn’t really have any plans for the rest of the evening. You told Sunwoo he could show you around town, tell you what changed and what stayed exactly the same, since he came home earlier than you– you bet it could be two or three years ago. He eagerly nodded, although noted that not much is different in your hometown and your walk could turn out pretty uneventful. No plans were set in stone, though.

Nervously shuffling from one foot to another, you decide to walk around the yard. Sunwoo’s house was always big– although it seemed more giant to you when you were a teenager. It’s a strange observation, since you didn’t really grow any more inches since you hit puberty. Your eyes study the flowers in front of the gate, the mowed grass, the big tree in the backyard. If you focus hard enough, you could almost see the two of you laying under it, letting the leaves shield you from the sun, both much younger and carefree than now. Sunwoo would show you pages of his favorite comic books and you’d play on your Tamagochi, making sure it doesn’t die in two days like his did when he first got it. When you turn to your right, you see the garden house you two– sometimes with his sister, sometimes with Eric, sometimes with both of them at once– spent many afternoons in.

There used to be an old, red sofa inside. There wasn’t much space, since it was filled with gardening supplies, Sunwoo’s and MB!Y/N’s old bikes, flower pots, packs of soil and all other things you could need for gardening, but it was fun to hide away from the sun in there and drink iced tea, talking about whatever came to your minds or solving nanogram puzzles in comfortable silence (or occasional sigh from Eric when he got stuck somewhere in the middle of his crosswords).

Your curiosity gets the best of you when you open the door, deciding to see if it’s still the same inside. Your eyes widen when you notice the garden house a little less packed than before– mainly because Sunwoo’s mother no longer does gardening in her free time and buys her vegetables on the market like your mum does, you presume– but instead, it’s full of all the things the childhood you knew so well.

Sunwoo’s old bike– red and a little rusty, but you bet it could still work. The rug they used to have in their dining room is now in the middle of the little garden house, stained with dirt. Next to the usual red sofa is a leather armchair that they used to have in their living room for a while, the dark brown fabric now worn out, chapped and peeling off. In the corner of the room, you find a box filled with various sports equipment– tennis rackets, a yellow tennis ball, a jumping rope, and lastly, a half-deflated football. The sight of it has you sighing a little, reminding you of Sunwoo’s composure when he told you about how he never got to pursue his childhood dream fully. 

Your eyes glaze towards his old skateboard, having you chuckle, the memories of him riding it down the hill in front of his house appearing in your mind. Sometimes, he would be there with his sister and his childhood friend Eric as well (that more often than not let MB!Y/N borrow the board, watching her with lovesick eyes instead of riding it himself), the young boy trying to teach himself tricks he saw on the TV.

“Do you think I still got it?” you suddenly hear Sunwoo ask from behind your shoulder, making you jump in surprise. The male laughs at your shocked face, shaking his head in disbelief at your easily shaken composure. 

“You scared me,” you breathe out, clutching your chest for good measure, to show him how much you really mean it– your heart was racing, and contrary to popular belief, the sight of him in casual attire (a gray hoodie, so similar to the one he used to wear in high school, baggy Adidas sweatpants covering his legs) wasn’t the reason for the little heart attack.

“So did you!” he exclaims. “I got outside and didn’t see you there, I thought you ran away for a second,” he hums.

“As if,” you mumble, “I walked all the way here, why would I leave so suddenly?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs, “you could’ve changed your mind, or something,” he says, his composure suddenly as boyish as when he was just a teenager, something in your heart softening. You guess he sometimes still carries some of the same insecurities he tried so hard to mask when he was young. Some things don’t really change, but you really wish at least this would’ve.

Smiling at him, you shake your head. “I don’t think you still got it, though,” you go back to reply to his initial question, pointing towards the skateboard.

“Well, who knows,” he peeps, “maybe I could do an Ollie, or something.”

“I really don’t think you could, Sunwoo,” you laugh softly, watching him regain his statement competitiveness.

“Wanna bet?”

“No,” you shake your head, “I don’t want you to break your bones, so let’s just say I believe you,” you giggle, watching as the boy mirrors your expression, his gaze softening. 

A short moment of silence overtakes you two as you sigh and look around the garden house, instinctively taking a seat on the red sofa covered in dust. You bet it’s been years since anyone’s sat on it, and you’re glad to be the one revisiting its comfort. It’s like solidifying your return– like the old piece of forgotten furniture in Sunwoo’s garden house is the spawn point of your childhood. “Doesn’t this make you nostalgic?” you ask, eyeing your companion.

“Well, I live here,” he shrugs, “so not as much as it makes you, I suppose. Having you here again makes it more nostalgic, though, I’ll give you that.”

His words have you overcome with something bittersweet. Seeing the town you love so much makes you almost regret you ever left. The rational side of your brain reminds you that you gained a lot of experience abroad, though, and so you settle with being just a little bit remorseful of your past self for being so overly-ambitious. 

“It’s weird,” you allow yourself to be vulnerable in front of him, the essence of him being your best friend– your first love, the first person you ever felt safe with– overtaking you in the moment of weakness, “it’s like everybody moved on, but I stayed here.”

“Well, not everybody moved on,” Sunwoo hums, referring to himself. “Juyeon stayed, too. Eric and MB!Y/N are moving only a few hours away… Haknyeon lives down the street now,” he points out, a poor attempt at making you feel better.

“Yeah… it’s just… I hoped I would do big things. I hoped we would both do big things,” you say, tone of voice quiet, your eyes avoiding him. It’s hard to keep eye contact with him when you share your struggles– at least that’s the way it always was when you were young. The look he offered you always made you feel so tender, so cared for that you wanted to burst out crying. In your age and state, you can’t afford to tear up in front of your ex-boyfriend anymore.

“Sometimes, things don’t work out the way we want them to,” Sunwoo says, tone of voice considerate. “And that’s fine. I wanted to be a star, and I’m not, but that’s okay, because hey… I’m happy anyway. I’m content. And I know that one day, you’ll be too. It just takes a bit of time.”

Snickering, you play with your fingers in your lap, legs plopping up and crossed, striking an almost defensive pose. “Were you… were you embarrassed when you came back?” you ask.

Sunwoo laughs, the sound so heartfelt it makes your insides squeeze. “Terribly. I mean, look at me in my mid-twenties, still living with my mother. Even back then, I felt like a failure. I felt like a disappointment, but… then I realized not everyone had the opportunities I had. Not everyone almost made it professional, you know, and that’s still something to be proud of.”

“I’m still living with my mother, but hey– she’s getting older and the house is big. MB!Y/N moved out, and I wouldn’t want my mum to get lonely… so I think I’m doing pretty well, given the circumstances,” he says. Pausing for a heartbeat, as if collecting his thoughts, he continues. “I think you should find the positives in your situation too. Not everyone got to live in New York... Work for the national TV… That’s still a huge achievement, and I think you should be proud of yourself for that.”

Rolling your eyes– although grateful to hear the words– you snicker. “It’s hard to do that right now…”

“I know,” he nods, smiling when you finally look at him. “It takes time. And until then, well, for what it’s worth, I’m really proud of you. And maybe… maybe you coming back home is how life’s supposed to go anyways.”

Biting down on your lower lip to stop yourself from tearing up– see, you knew you shouldn’t have looked the boy in the eyes during his little pep talk– there’s suddenly a weight leaving your shoulders, heart softening and growing more tender. Your wounds seem to sting a little less. It’s strange– even after so many years, he still knows just the words you need to hear.

“Yeah,” you nod, voice barely louder than a whisper, a soft smile playing with your lips, “maybe.”

to. my first kiss

March 2000

His eyes stay glued to the TV in your living room, the boy almost looking hypnotized as he focuses on the program running, furrowed brows and all, showing his utmost concentration. A sigh lands into his ears, but goes unnoticed when you enter the room, a scowl sitting on your face. “Sunwoo! I told you to watch the oven! What if the cookies burn?”

“Yeah…” he mumbles, not a single word coming out of your mouth truly registering in his brain.

“Sunwoo!” you grunt, but when you get no reply, you just choose to roll your eyes and walk into your kitchen yourself, opening the oven and making sure the cookies you two have been baking haven’t burned down into coal yet. Not long after, you plop on the sofa next to your best friend, tone of voice still showing a bit of frustration at his carelessness.

“You shit on Eric for watching those, but you’re just as bad,” you hum as you notice the kdrama going on in the TV. It’s one of the ones that hardly make any sense and each scene is overly-exaggerated and repeated at least twice to create impact, but Sunwoo finds himself living for the drama. Each argument has him examining the scene, mentally rooting for his favorite characters– and although he is busy with football practice nowadays, he doesn’t skip a single episode of Happy Together. 

It’s not as entertaining as the manga comics he borrows from Hyunjae’s father’s comic shop, but he figures that it’s good enough to pass some time… and indulge over.

“I think they’re gonna kiss,” he notes, pointing towards the screen.

“Oh, good point, Sherlock Holmes,” you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief. If there was something you’d expect out of your friend, it seemingly wasn’t his enjoyance of cheesy dramas that air in the afternoon hours of the week. 

And Sunwoo admits, he was never the one to enjoy romance. Hell, it was something he always made fun of when it came to his friend Eric– he was not the one to watch romantic comedies, he wasn’t the one to tell girls cheesy lines or bring them flowers on Valentine’s day. He does seem to be enjoying the laughable scenes rolling on the TV a little too much lately, though.

Maybe he should start hanging out with Eric less.

The scene slowly transforms into close-ups of the two main characters, showing them instinctively closing their eyes and leaning towards each other, eyes trained on each other’s lips. It doesn’t take much to predict the next actions, but Sunwoo still finds himself restless in his seat when they finally kiss, legs kicking up and a gasp escaping his mouth. One would think he won the lottery or was just greeted with the greatest surprise ever, with how he’s reacting. None of the two are true, though.

“Oh, wow,” you hum next to him, seemingly not really interested in the drama as much as your best friend is.

“You’re ruining it,” Sunwoo sighs, looking at you as you roll your eyes and settle deeper into the couch cushions. 

“Oh, sorry,” you note, but your composure stays a bit annoyed. 

Sunwoo watches the TV for some more– the scene of the two characters kissing stays on the screen, slowed-down and repeated, in the true 90s TV show fashion– before his eyes trail off the device and move towards you, glazing your side profile. He takes notice of your casual attire– you changed out of your school uniform in the time he was supposed to watch the cookies baking in the oven, and something in his stomach churns, making him blurt out the random question that so suddenly appears on the tip of his tongue.

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” he asks, genuinely curious. He doesn’t even know why the response matters to him so much– he also doesn’t really know what reply he’d like to hear better, if he’s being honest– but now it’s out in the open and he can’t take it back.

“Hm?” you hum, snapping your head towards him. “Oh. Yeah, I guess…”

“You guess..?” Sunwoo repeats, furrowing his brows. How can one not be sure? 

“Well– yeah. It only happened once, though,” you shrug. It takes everything in Sunwoo to not ask who you kissed and when, or under what circumstances, and decide to despise that person until the day he dies. It’s not his business and he shouldn’t even care in the first place… He can’t say he’s disappointed in your answer– it’s your life and your decisions– but something inside of him screams that now, he can’t be your first no matter how hard he’d try. (It’s not like you’d want to kiss Sunwoo anyway, so he really doesn’t know why he’s making such a big deal about it.)

“What about you?” you ask, the question catching the poor boy off guard. He didn’t necessarily expect you to ask him back– so much to his title of Sherlock Holmes– and the reality that he can’t lie to you takes him out in full force as he bashfully stares out of the window.

“No,” he peeps, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

There’s something embarrassing about admitting to the girl you like that even at the ripe age of 19, you’ve never kissed anyone before. Shame creeps up his neck and adorns his cheeks after the simple word slips out of his mouth, eyes refusing to meet yours.

“Really?” you ask, and you sound genuinely surprised– there’s a hint of Sunwoo’s ego recovering, but he thinks the hit was too hard for him to ever recover.

“Yup,” he says, a popping sound heard as his lips voice out the last consonant, the view of him playing with his own fingers suddenly more interesting than anything else happening in your living room right at this moment.

“I thought– nevermind,” you hum, scratching the back of your neck, “why are you asking?”

“Just… just curious, I guess…?” he stummers, shrugging. 

A moment of silence overtakes you two– enough to make the boy instantly hate everything he’s ever said on the matter. If there could open up a hole in the ground right now to swallow him, he’d jump in with much enthusiasm. Why did he have to ask?

“Do you wanna try?” you suddenly propose, making the boy’s heart feel like it burst and threw him into a cardiac arrest. His hands start sweating, his cheeks tint red and it feels like all oxygen was suddenly sucked out of the living room, his lungs collapsing on themselves.

You seem to try to save the situation, noticing the utter shock on his face. “I mean– you don’t have to, but I… I wouldn’t mind, and it’s– I don’t know… if you wanted to practice with me, or something, I’d be down to…” you stutter, chewing on your bottom lip as you finish the little tangent, terror evident in your eyes.

Sunwoo feels like a little boy that just found his favorite gift under the Christmas tree. Like he found the most pricey toy there, the one he always wanted, and now that it’s there, he’s scared to actually play with it, because he doesn’t want to break it. Much like your friendship, he thinks. There’s too much to lose if he crosses this line, and he’s very much aware. 

But the offer seems tempting. Almost too tempting. God, he doesn’t think he could say no.

He may not be your first kiss, but you’re asking to be his. This sounds like a dream, if he really thinks about it.

“You know what? Just forget–”

“I’d– I’d like that…” he mumbles, trying really hard not to avert his gaze from you.

Your gaze softens, nodding your head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“Okay,” you nod again, moving a little closer to him. Your knees knock into the side of his thigh, your whole figure now facing him on the sofa as his legs still point forward to the TV. He keeps staring at you, a little nervous, but expectant. “Are you sure? You don’t have to do it just because–”

“I’m sure,” he cuts you off, watching as your face relaxes, a smile appearing on your lips at the next addition. “I want to.”

“Okay.”

You move impossibly closer, your crossed legs in contact with his clothed skin. He curses the thin fabric of the pants of his school uniform for making him feel every slightest flex of your muscles when you move, making his skin flare up and burn. He keeps staring at you, watching you as you lean closer to him, your faces now inches away from each other. Sunwoo finds himself focusing on every feature of your face, counting the eyelashes framing your eyes, glazing over the sparkles in your orbs. You stay close for a minute, unmoving. 

Eyes locking, Sunwoo finds himself gasping a little, breathing shuddering when he notices your gaze falling to his lips. Your breathing mixes, air meeting his face when you breathe out a minty breeze. His heart is already racing and you’re not even doing anything.

When he finds you finally moving towards him and notices your eyes shutting close, he mirrors your actions, but stays unmoving. After what feels like eternity, he feels something soft pressing to his lips, warmth spreading from that part of his face to the rest of his body. The contact of your lips with his is gentle, like you’re testing the waters, and although the feeling is unfamiliar, Sunwoo decides he doesn’t hate it.

The weird firework show in his stomach actually suggests that he’s quite enjoying it. Your lips break away from his for a bit, rewarding him with only a peck, and before the boy has the chance to think this is it and it’s over, you dive in for more and kiss him again, this time longer, more firmer.

Your hands come up to cradle his cheeks, holding him close. He feels himself burning up, his composure completely crumbling when he feels you smile against his lips. 

“You know you can kiss back, right?”

“Mhm,” he hums, opening his eyes to see you staring at him with a tender look.

“Try it,” you say, hands gently coming up to brush his bangs away from his face. If anyone was looking at the two of you now, Sunwoo thinks they’d conclude that you two were in love.

And maybe Sunwoo was, by the way he was looking up at you like you hung the stars on the sky. By the way he was staring at you with such a vulnerable look he feared you might see right through him, see right to his core and call him out on every unconfessed word hiding in his heart. He looks a little scared, a little tense, still, but his eyes don’t lie. They never do. There’s no one else that could make him feel the way you do.

“Okay,” he nods, moving in his position so he’s facing you, ready for more. 

He mirrors your previous motions, leaning towards your face. He wets his lips and closes his eyes when he’s sure he’s close enough to not miss your mouth, and after another deep breath in to calm his nerves, he presses against you. He feels you freezing under him, a momentary panic spreading all over his chest as he thinks he’s done something wrong, before he feels you kissing him back.

A whole other sensation takes over him when he feels your lips moving against his, his fingertips buzzing when he drags his hand up and moves your hair behind your shoulder, large hand resting on your jaw. He’s not sure if he’s doing this correctly– hell, he’s never done this before– but after you move a bit and entangle your hands behind his neck, pressing against him a bit more firmly, yet still tender and gentle like the first time, he recognises that somehow, it feels right, and he thinks that’s all evaluation he needs for now.

The need for oxygen makes him break away from you, breathing heavily as he opens his eyes and finds you resting your forehead against his, smiling. “Like that?” he asks, shamelessly staring at your wet lips, already yearning for more.

“Something like that,” you nod, giggling. “You still need more practice, though,” you suggest, making the boy frown.

“Was it that ba–”

Rolling your eyes at him, frustrated at the way he always needs everything spelled out for him, refusing to take a hint, you press your lips against his again, teeth clashing a little when Sunwoo picks up the pace and kisses you back. The TV is a mere white noise in the background now, everything around you two disappearing, all of Sunwoo’s senses focused on you and only you. He could get lost in the way you taste– like strawberry bubblegum you bought at the store on the corner of the street– and the way you feel against him– soft, tender, warm.

He feels like he could burst. He knows his hands are a bit sweaty, but he’s only half aware of the fact when his palms move to hold your cheeks, much like you did to him before, and your hands entangle in his hair, playing with the strands.

He could stay like this forever, blissfully unaware of the consequences of this act. He could kiss you over and over and over again, even if it meant he was still bad at it and needed more practice– he could get lost in your scent, in the tender way you hold him to you, in the way you keep smiling against his lips whenever he does something to surprise you: like get a little bolder and angle your head by your chin with his thumb, getting more comfortable.

He’s glad he’s sitting down, because he’s quite sure his knees are too weak to carry him right now. When you break away from him again, lips swollen and eyes blown-out, he thinks you might just be an angel. He’d love to engrave this image into his memories forever.

Although, he’s doubtful that he could ever forget about this. Or anything about you, really.

And even as you suddenly gasp, finally aware of the world around you, running to the kitchen and screaming: “Sunwoo! We forgot about the cookies!”,

he wonders just what more you could teach him about life. He’d follow you to the end of the world if you asked him to, holding your hand in his and not thinking twice. He’d bring you down a star, if you only so expressed you would like one. He’d do anything. 

You taught him what friendship is. You taught him what it means to care for someone. What it means to have someone special. You taught him how to drink (although by scolding him when he was hungover. He felt cared for even with your stern gaze). You taught him how to slow dance– even though you spent the prom with someone else. Just now, you taught him how to kiss.

And although you’re unaware, he’s quite certain that when he’s 19 years old, spending each of his days with you, although unaware, you taught him how to love someone too.

August 2007

You feel kind of silly, standing in front of the bakery as the sun sets over the horizon, the clock striking near 5 in the afternoon as you gnaw on your fingernails and hesitate a little before coming in. Pushing the door open and slipping inside, the male currently sweeping the floor looks over at you, a look of pleasant surprise sitting at his face and a sunny smile sent your way upon your arrival.

You don’t really know why you keep running back to him. The whole town reeks of familiarity to you, every corner and inch of each street filled with the essence of your childhood and your whole growing up. It’s not like you don’t have anything else to ground yourself back to, but somehow, your inner voice always keeps calling for Sunwoo. It’s weird– it’s been ages and you shouldn’t feel like this around someone who you haven’t even properly dated for that long, if you don’t count the few months before he left– but it’s something you can’t control, an essence you can’t hold back. 

“Y/N,” he calls for you, “what are you doing here?” he asks as he continues his routinal cleaning, putting the broom away behind the counter. 

It’s a stupid question. You bet he realizes it too, but you’re somehow glad he is taking initiative. This way, you don’t have to be the first one to spark the conversation. This way, you know you’re welcome. 

“Oh, well,” you shrug, “I’m… looking for you…?” you say, tone of voice suggesting that you’re hesitant, almost a little shy to admit it to yourself. 

Maybe you’re foolish for feeling this way. Because you know what all those things mean– you know what the lightness in your stomach is, what the giddy feeling resonating through you whenever the male smiles at you is. You know that thinking about someone constantly, more so before you sleep, isn’t an usual occurrence with someone you pay no attention to, with someone you don’t care about. You’ve been in love before– with the same man that’s standing right in front of you as well, funnily enough. You know what this all means.

But with how he’s inviting you in, letting you into his little bubble, you think it’s not as bad of a thing. He’s not pushing you away. He’s not building bridges. He’s the same way he was all those years ago, and you’d hate to find out that all of this wasn’t something more and was just him being nice.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” he chuckles, wiping his hands on the apron still tied around his waist. “I’m off in a few, though, so if you want anything from the bakery–”

“I’m not here for the food,” you laugh, dismissing him with a wave of your hand. The boldness is unusual for the present you– there’s a hint of your past shining through whenever you are with the boy, though. Maybe you like this sense of familiarity. Maybe you like to feel real again– maybe you like to feel like yourself. It’s hard to admit it, but you did lose your sense of identity after moving abroad. It’s hard to stay true to yourself with so many new people around and with so many expectations and responsibilities. The pressure changes you, and you now rely on Kim Sunwoo to bring you back to default– to where you’re supposed to be.

“Okay, then,” he nods, thankfully not making a big deal out of your desperate visit, “what would you like to do?” he asks, eyes sparkling under the lights when he looks at you. It’s like an open invitation– he gives you the chance to tell him how you’d like to spend your time with him. He did this a lot when you two were younger as well. It felt good to have someone that would make the effort to enjoy your hobbies with you– no matter how disinterested he could be in the matter.

“Hang out… I guess…?” you hum, shrugging. You didn’t really have anything planned. All you knew was that you wanted to be with him. It’s like the heart’s calling– you don’t know when your inner monologue got so cliche.

“Anything specific?” he asks.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shake your head in disapproval. You fear that you disappointed him, let him down in some way– you came all the way here, after all. You could’ve made something up on the way, couldn’t you? But still– just like the Sunwoo you once knew, so lively and full of ideas– he just purses his lips for a second before speaking the suggestion into existence.

“Well… do you want to bake with me? Like the old times?” he says, sending you a look full of warm honey.

You wouldn’t say no to that invitation. You’d be crazy to do so.

The Kim Sunwoo you used to bake cookies with in the comfort of your kitchen back home wasn’t so skilled in making the dough like he is now. He wasn’t so good at knowing the recipe from memory, nor was he gifted with the kitchen appliances he has now, all professional and shiny, reserved just for the use of the bakery. You don’t really know if he even had the love for baking in him back then– you just know you two enjoyed your time together, and when you are young, that’s all you really cared about anyway. It didn’t matter that he let the cookies burn sometimes. It didn’t really matter that they didn’t turn out well on some days– all morphing into one big block, making you cut the dough into pieces so you could eat it when you accidentally added too much butter. 

He still looks the same, though. A few years older, but with the same boyish aura to him when he wipes dirty hands on his apron. All grown up now, but still with the same glint in his eye whenever he looks up at you in between your conversations. When you’re with him, you no longer feel the distance between who you are and who you used to be, the distance between you and him. It’s like the old days, but a little better.

Maybe you have more time now.

The two of you work on the cookie dough, enveloped in a comfortable conversation. “You have to add more sugar,” Sunwoo hums from next to you, watching as you work on the mixture.

“Isn’t it funny how I was the one always giving you directions when we baked together and now you’re the one ordering me around?” you laugh, taking the sugar from the counter and sprinkling more in, listening to the opinion of a professional.

“Well, my cookies don’t turn into one big blob of dough anymore,” he jokes, laughing. “Besides, it’s my job now, so you’d kind of expect me to be good at it.”

“You can’t be so sure of that…” you hum, shaking your head.

“Why? Do you have any experience with being bad at your job?” 

“Oh you bet I do,” you laugh, nodding. “I was an intern before, Sunwoo. A colleague of mine once tried to console me by saying being an intern means being bad at the job, so it wasn’t that big of a deal, but I still cried myself to sleep multiple nights,” you conclude, thinking back to your New York endeavors.

“That bad?” Sunwoo asks empathetically.

“Yeah. Mixed up everyone’s coffee order on my first day. When I was confronted about it, I tried to play it off by saying I don’t have a good memory…” you muse.

“Well, it’s hard to remember a lot of stuff at once, to be fair–”

“I was getting coffee for three people, Sunwoo. Objectively speaking, it shouldn’t be as hard…” you say, now thinking back to the events of your internship with more humor than embarrassment.

Sunwoo laughs at your story, shaking his head in disbelief. “Not worse than my teammate back in Boston. The first match of the season, he scored a goal against our own team. His reasoning? He used to play against the goalie back in high school, so he got confused.”

The boy takes over at making the dough once it’s the turn to add in the chocolate chips, glancing at you momentarily when you laugh at his anecdote. Watching him from the side, you heave out through your laughs. “That’s actually hilarious,” you get out, washing your hands in the sink. “What about some funny stories about yourself, though?”

“Don’t have any. I’m too perfect to humiliate myself like that,” he notes, pressing his lips together and raising his eyebrows at you in an ironic expression, nodding.

“Oh, as if–”

“How is it?” he asks you suddenly in the middle of the sentence, seemingly done with kneading the mixture. Sunwoo puts the cookie dough in front of your lips, waiting for you to taste it. You’d do it all the time when you were both teenagers, but back then, the gesture didn’t feel half as intimate as the mere image of it does now.

Locking eyes with the male, you hesitantly open your mouth and let him put the dough into it, tasting the sweetness on your tongue. Sunwoo’s eyes darken, as if he’s just realized what he’s done, the weight of the situation falling down on him as your tongue comes in contact with the skin of his fingertips. Gulping, he watches as you suck the tip of his digit into your mouth, getting all last remains of the sweetness off of it, something in the air shifting towards a direction you didn’t expect from tonight.

“Good,” you nod, licking your lips, “delicious.”

Seconds turn to what feels like eternities as you stop all motion and look into each other’s eyes, finding any hint of disapproval with the so obvious turn of events. His chocolate orbs peer into yours, making you ignite with something close to an urge you can’t control, his eyes anchoring themselves to the curve of your lips when you decide to let go of all anxiety and insecurities and just go for it. The cookie dough was sweet, but you’ve never tasted anything sweeter than Sunwoo’s lips. You might just have to refresh your mind, you think.

Leaning closer to him, your breathing mixing in the few centimeters left between your mouths, you relish in the déja vu this action brings you. It feels like yesterday, yet also centuries ago since you last kissed the male, and although you’re sure you enjoyed it back then, you wish you could’ve told the younger you to kiss him more often, more firmly, with more passion, maybe even sooner. For longer. 

Pressing your lips against his first, almost like always– since Kim Sunwoo was a bit shy with his kisses when you were both just high school seniors– your eyes shut close and everything around you disappears. You guess there’s something about baking that makes the two of you want to feed off each other’s lips– except this time, it’s not practice anymore. It’s not innocent, it’s not clueless. This time, it’s real, alive and passionate. You can’t say you hate the sentiment, the weird parallel your relationship has come to. It’s like you’re reliving your life again, but this time, you know how the story ends– you know how to fix the ending. How to keep him here.

Sunwoo’s more experienced than he was when you kissed him for the first time. He’s less shy and more bold, lips firmer against yours, but still careful and gentle. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw and position you so he has the best access to your mouth as he slips his tongue in, as if chasing down the taste of cookie dough he fed you just a few seconds ago, and although you liked to battle him when you were young, you let him win this time– you let him take you home, bring your mind to where it’s supposed to be.

Hands gripping the front of his shirt, but immediately going to circle around his neck when a particular movement of his makes you moan slightly into his mouth, you play with the hair on his nape and feel him shuddering under your movements, an automatic response that makes fondness spread over your chest. Everything about him is familiar to you– he still reacts the same way to your tender ministrations, he still smiles against your lips when you tangle your fingers through his hair and want to ground yourself in the touch. 

You know him like the palm of your hand. It’s easy to get lost in something you are so familiar with, in someone that was once your everything. It’s easy to indulge too much in something that was forcefully taken from you, to get right back where you left with him, because time and circumstances were never on your side.

A touch of his hand on the side of your neck, lips trailing down your mouth towards your jaw. The boldness, the urgency of his movements is enough to have you turn your back against the counter, his body pressed tightly against yours. His palms under the backside of your knees have you sitting up on the cold marble, his lips never breaking away from your skin. 

You’re enjoying the shift in the dynamic. You’re enchanted with the way he handles you, like he’s been starved of you for years, wanting to chase down all the time you spent away from each other. Breathing heavily, feeling his plush lips sucking down on the sweet spot under your ear, then trailing down the side until he reaches the juncture of your neck, an involuntary “God…” slips past your mouth.

“I missed you,” he says, words muffling against your skin, “I missed you so much, I felt like I was going crazy.”

The confession makes you dizzy, your whole body growing weak. It’s like he knows exactly what words you wanted to hear. It’s like he knows what haunted you all those years, what you kept asking the universe on sleepless nights over and over, praying for an answer. It’s like he knows exactly how to get you close to him, to have you completely let go of the past. 

“I missed your jokes,” he says, planting a kiss on your neck. “I missed your smile,” he presses another one a little more up, “I missed your laugh,” another kiss, now on your jaw. “I missed holding your hand,” a peck planted to the corner of your lips, “and I missed kissing you…” he trails off, pointing his attention back on your mouth, locking the two of you together again, as if kissing you was his new addiction and you were the drug.

Sunwoo’s hot hand creeps up your waist, fingers slipping under the thin fabric of your tank top. The contact makes you shiver in response, your bodies still as responsive to each other as back when you were 19, and when you tug at his bottom lip with your teeth and slip your tongue back into his mouth, you feel the boy tug at the right strap of your top, sliding it down your shoulder. You’re barely registering the bowl of dough to your right, the fact that you’re in the kitchen of Juyeon’s parent’s bakery, or the fact that you only just met the boy two weeks ago for the first time in years. All you focus on is him– his touch, his taste, the way he makes you feel. All you know is longing. The desire.

Before you have the chance to take anything further, the sound of the door opening makes you jump away from each other– your head almost hitting the top cabinets, had Sunwoo not instinctively put his hand there to shield you from the impact. Before you get a chance to register what’s happening, a familiar voice calls for you, their tone a little guilty and bashful. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt, or anything–” Juyeon peeps, clearing his throat. 

Glancing at Sunwoo, you see his cheeks redden at being caught by his older friend, yet his eyes still roll in annoyance at the interruption. You can’t help but try to hide your face into his shoulder– it’s not like you’re embarrassed of being with Sunwoo, you’re just embarrassed that it had to happen here, of all places.

“Well, you just did,” Sunwoo grunts, frustration coating his words.

“I’m just here to grab something,” Juyeon hums, almost racing through the room to get to the fridge on the other side of the kitchen, taking out a carton of milk from the inside and showing it to the two of you. “This is gonna go bad soon, so I’m taking it home to use it. Uhm.. anyways, well, don’t let me stop you in anything… bye!”

Neither of you greet the male back, instead sharing a meaningful, knowing look between each other. The view of your first boyfriend with his lips puffy, cheeks flushed and hair a little disheveled makes your senses go crazy, and although you’d like to continue what you started, you don’t think now is the right time or place.

Hopping off the counter, you smile. “So… where were we with the cookies?”

to. my first girlfriend

May 2000

Eyes trained on the ball, feet restless as he runs across the field to retrieve it and pass it to one of the shooters– either Donghyuck or Jinyoung, the more capable ones of the team– Sunwoo finds himself completely focused on the game. It’s one of the last matches of the season, and since he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to play his favorite sport again– he hasn’t received a verdict on the university applications he sent yet– the boy figures he should enjoy each game like it’s the last. Because who knows– one day, it may as well be, and if he’s not prepared for it, if he has any regrets, he knows he’ll take it harder than he’s supposed to.

Kim Sunwoo’s position in football is midfielder. While Eric once told him that it’s a loser position, since he’s not the shooter and he doesn’t score many goals (which is a lie– the boy had him know he scored his fair share despite his defensive position on the field), Sunwoo’s grown to love it. He’s the one that’s supposed to counter all attacks on his teammates. He’s the one that runs after the ball and passes it to the shooters, so technically, he’s the reason why any of them even have the opportunity to score. His position is as important as any other player's, and he takes pride in the compliments he gets from his coach whenever he does particularly well at a game. 

Sunwoo loves football. He’d say his first love is football, but something inside of him keeps telling him that that’s a lie (don’t ask him why. It’s a secret.). It’s the first game he’s ever been exceptionally good at, the first thing he could do for periods longer than a few weeks. He’s been playing with the ball since he was young, and although he never had a father to kick the football around with in his backyard, his sister was always happy to be included in anything he was into at the time– when she got older, she even got better at being his designated goalie, although less interested in the play itself. Sunwoo feels like he lets go of all worries when he plays. It’s good to have an escape, something to keep his mind occupied. He doesn’t have many things to worry about, but he finds that kicking the ball around, making strategies in his brain on how to get it to his teammates the fastest, is enough for him to get out both his frustration and get something nice out of it. He enjoys the thrill. He enjoys the excitement, the shared joy of the team whenever someone scores a goal. He is addicted to the ecstasy in his veins whenever his team wins.

It was easy to determine that if Sunwoo wanted to do anything for the rest of his life, it would be football. It’s what he enjoys, what he loves. It’s what he’s good at. 

It’s strange to imagine a time when he wouldn’t play football. He doesn’t even want to imagine it in the first place– it makes a chill run down his spine and an unsettling feeling churn in his stomach. In a perfect world, he’s always a football player.

Everyone keeps telling him he could easily make it professional, if he tried. 

Football is how he met most of his friends. It’s how he met Juyeon– he was the captain of the high school team when Sunwoo was a sophomore, and he found that hanging out with the older boy was easy and fun. It’s how he met Donghyuck and Jihoon (before the latter dropped out of the team after a few months). It’s how he met you. 

His coach always warned the players about dating the cheerleaders. For his coach, it wasn’t right to do so– it would throw off the dynamic of the game. “Nobody wants their ex to stare at them during their game!” the coach had said– not even thinking of the possibility of any of those teenage romances to last. Sunwoo only laughed back then. It wasn’t something he should be afraid of– he never liked anyone on the cheer team.

Until… until he did. Sunwoo met you on one sunny day, at your joint cheer-slash-football practice. You pointed out that the number on his jersey– 03– was your favorite, and the boy felt himself smile. Ever since then, he never wore any other number. He considered it to be his lucky charm. What started as friendship blossomed into something much more for the boy, and somehow, he can’t even remember when the feelings he had for you morphed into adoration. He doesn’t know when they shifted Into absolute enchantment, or Into a silly crush– he doesn’t know when he started seeing you in a light that was more romantic.

Wearing your favorite number on his back, Sunwoo runs towards the opposing player. There’s something akin to an angry face playing with the man’s features, and Sunwoo imagines it’s because of the very clear lead his team has on them. Sunwoo makes sure he doesn’t slip as he tackles the opposing player– he swears he heard someone call the shooter Jaechan– and as soon as he secures the ball, Sunwoo aims to forward it to his teammate.

The screams resonating all around him– although he tries hard to filter them out to focus on the game completely– suggest that it’s only a few moments before the game is over. It wouldn’t matter even if they didn’t score the goal, but something inside of Sunwoo’s heart leaps at the thought of winning with such a lead. The boyish excitement only grows when he watches Donghyuck retrieve the goal and run towards the goalpost, neon-orange sneakers shining through the green grass.

“Come on!” Sunwoo cheers, a hopeful spark lighting within him as the boy prepares to shoot, eyes quickly scanning the field.

And Lee Donghyuck almost never lets him down. Maybe that’s why he liked the boy so much in the first place– Sunwoo didn’t like players that dismissed the chance he won for them. He liked the skillful ones. The ones that knew what they were doing. (He also liked Donghyuck’s humor. He found himself grateful to have a friend so funny. He made even losing feel like it wasn’t such a big deal.) 

Choosing the golden shooter proved to be a good idea once again– Donghyuck, number 35, shoots for the goal and the ball gets in. Seconds after, the sound of a whistle is heard across the place, the game over with Sunwoo’s team winning 4:1.

Everyone cheers– yells from the audience are heard, excitement reeking through the air. The whole football team gathers around, sweaty bodies sticking together as they perform some sort of a cliche group hug, arms patting each other’s backs and complimenting each other’s play. 

The commotion dissolves shortly after. Sunwoo finds himself trying to catch his breath, eyes looking across the space for someone in particular. His heart leaps even harder when he finds you standing at the edge of the field in your cheer uniform, a big smile plastered on your face. Your eyes are glimmering as they meet with his. Your hair is a little tousled from the routine you just finished doing and there are smears and smudges on your cheeks from the face paint you used to symbolize the team’s colors– blue and gold. Over-all, you look ecstatic.

Sunwoo finds himself running over to you before he even registers that he’s going to do it. He’s like a fast, unguided missile, the goal of getting to you as fast as possible being the only thing resonating through his excited mind.

“Good jo-” you grunt as the boy finally gets to you, words cutting off when he (maybe a little harshly) puts his arms around your middle and picks you up, twirling you around. You screech a little into his ear and he finds himself laughing at your reaction. It’s like a runner's high– he feels like right now, he is capable of everything. 

“Okay! Okay! Put me down!” you laugh when you start to get a little dizzy. The boy complies, since he’s running out of strength to carry you anyways, and puts you back to your feet. His arms stay tightly wrapped around your body, though, locking you into a secure hug. 

“We won!” he cheers, the brightest grin settling to his lips as he announces the obvious. 

You beam at him, eyes soft and crinckled into little moon crescents, a dumbfounded smile playing with your features. “I know, Sherlock,” you dismiss him again with the teasing nickname, shaking your head in disbelief, “I was here. Cheering for you,” you say.

And sure, Sunwoo knows that by you, you don’t necessarily mean him in particular– more like cheering for the whole team, the whole 11 players on the field– but something about the sentiment makes his stomach feel all light and a slight blush spread over his glowing cheeks. You were here– cheering for him (and his team) – and although you’re here out of your own will, out of your own devotion to your hobby, he somehow feels grateful for your presence. You never miss a game. You went even when you caught the flu and felt too sick to do your cheer routine– you just sat on the bench and rooted for your best friend. (The team lost that match. Sunwoo felt a little bad for tugging you out of your bed for it.)

The boy studies your face for a while. You look perfectly content in his hold. You fit perfectly into his arms, he thinks– almost like you’re supposed to be there all the time. He should hug you more often, he decides. Sunwoo foolishly finds himself focusing onto your lips– he blames the shiny lipgloss you put on today– the words coming out of your mouth not quite registering in his brain. “As I was saying, good job! The whole team, but you especially. Don’t tell anyone, but I think you really shined in this game. I’m really prou–”

A single peck is pressed to your glossy, sticky lips, cutting you off in the middle of the sentence yet again. Sunwoo surprises himself with the gesture– he was always too shy to initiate something with you, too hesitant to even touch you sometimes– but the euphoria is still playing with his senses, clouding his brain. He doesn’t think of consequences.

He can’t control himself anymore. It’s been weeks since you two kissed for the first time– exactly 4 and a half weeks since you taught him how to do so– and since that afternoon, he found himself thinking about it every single day, every single minute, all. The. Time. You two haven’t spoken about it since, making the poor boy a little disappointed, but he respected your decision. He knew that you didn’t particularly reciprocate his feelings, but he still expected your dynamic to shift. At least a little bit. 

And although he should’ve been glad nothing changed and your friendship didn’t crumble because of a simple kiss, he found himself desiring to kiss you every time he saw your face. 

You peer at him with eyes wide open, mouth a little agape. Sunwoo doesn’t really know how to read your reaction– you didn’t look particularly happy, but you also didn’t push him away– and so in the moment of panic, he begins to backtrack, his arms untangling from your sides.

“I- I’m sorry if I overstepped any boundary, or if I–”

You’re not fans of letting each other finish their sentences today, it seems. Before Sunwoo gets a chance to put a bigger distance between the two of you, he watches as you get on your tippy-toes and press a tender kiss on his lips– more firmer than the one he dared to give you, a little bit longer, yet still sweetly short. There’s something soft and gentle in your gaze when you pull away and press another peck onto his face– the tip of his nose this time– and Sunwoo almost physically feels his knees turning into jello, his own celebratory firework show erupting in the pits of his stomach.

“So, as I was saying,” you hum, hugging the boy around his neck, “you did well. You looked good out there,” you peep, the sparks in your eyes making Sunwoo’s skin burn with their contact.

That day, you teach him that to be loved is to have someone sharing your achievements with. To be loved is to be adored, to be loved is to have someone watching you and cheering you on, to have someone to run to with good news.

Kim Sunwoo’s football team won the match, but the boy thinks that perhaps, that day, he won something even greater.

to. my first lover

August 2000

The admission papers arrive at his house the morning he’s supposed to sleep over at your house. Your parents decided to take a trip to your aunt’s place for two days, so you invite the boy into the comfort of your home for the weekend– as far as Sunwoo’s mother is concerned, he’s sleeping over at Juyeon’s. He doesn’t have the boy covering him, but he’s also sure his mother won’t try to check if he’s telling her the truth. He’s not banned from having a girlfriend– he just doesn’t want his mum to get any wrong ideas.

He finds the envelope in the mailbox when he comes home from school, and something in his stomach drops when he sees the american stamp on the top right corner of the white paper. He debates on opening it, but every time he hypes himself up enough to tear the top of the envelope off, a little anxious voice on his inside tells him to wait. 

Although reluctant to admit it to himself, Sunwoo is a little scared to see the result of his university application. Before he leaves for your house, he puts the envelope into the front pocket of his backpack and tries to forget about it. It works a bit better when he sees your face, hears your laugh– when he spends time with you and you two play the new board game you got from your cousin. Still, the weight of the envelope keeps bugging him in his mind no matter how hard he tries forgetting about it, and you finally notice (or finally bring it up after hours of ignoring his weird mood) when the two of you lay together in your bed in the evening, both facing the ceiling.

“Is everything alright?” you ask. 

“Hm?” Sunwoo hums, lost in thought. “Oh, yeah,” he nods, “don’t worry.”

You don’t seem convinced. Shuffling a little in your sheets, you turn towards him and move your body closer to his, your arm suddenly draping over his middle. A tender kiss is placed on his temple, almost making him crumble under the gentle care, and your voice earns a concerned kind of timbre when you speak to him. “You can tell me,” you hum, “boyfriends and girlfriends are supposed to tell each other things.”

Boyfriends and girlfriends. Sunwoo feels himself soften under the possessive title. It has been close to 4 months of you dating– starting with the winning match in April, progressing slowly through the summer break– but the fact that you’re his partner is still a little unbelievable to him. Sometimes, when he hears you call him your boyfriend, he still gets a little bashful. He still feels like he’s been told the greatest news of his life. 

Maybe it’s the nature of this sentiment that has him slowly unraveling to you. And maybe, it’s because he’d tell you anyways– you’d be the first to know. He was just waiting for the right time to bring it up.

“The reply to my university application came in the mail this morning…” he trails off, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

You plop up on your elbow, watching the boy from above. Eyes big, you peer into his face. “And?” you ask, an expecting gaze glazing his features.

“I… I don’t know,” he shrugs, “I was too scared to open it alone.”

“O-Oh,” you nod, furrowing your brows at him, “well, it’s okay to be scared. I believe in you, but even if it doesn’t go the way you wanted it to, I’m still proud of you for trying,” you say, a gentle tone of voice cooing at him, like the nature of the way you play with his hair, wanting to make the boy relax from his anxieties.

“I have the letter here with me,” he says, swallowing, “in my bag.”

“Do you want to open it together?” you ask, watching as the boy nods.

He’s getting off the bed in no time, wearing just sweatpants and a baggy shirt to sleep in, grabbing his bag from the corner of your room and unzipping the small compartment at the front. His fingers take the envelope out, legs walking him over back to your bed, your figure now sitting against the headboard. Sunwoo finds himself mirroring your position as his fingers turn the little white thing in his hold with much stumbling, preparing himself for whatever answer awaits him inside.

Glancing at you, seeing you looking at him with an encouraging expression on your face, Sunwoo takes a big breath in and out to calm his nerves before he tears the top open and takes out the expensive-feeling paper. Not stopping his actions anymore, knowing that if he takes another moment to himself, he won’t be able to read the letter, he unravels the note and lets his eyes skim over the words.

Before he even has a chance to register the sentences written down in the letter, before he can even let his mind accept the result he’s given– ‘we are pleased to announce that you were admitted to the athlete scholarship program…’– he feels a pair of arms wrapping around his shoulders, jolting him awake from his thoughts.

“You made it! Oh my god, you made it!” you cheer, excitement taking over your whole body as you shake the boy in your hold from side to side. The reality still isn’t quite settling in for him, so he just lets you do whatever you please– which includes all of the following: screaming incoherent words into his ear when you hug him closer to your chest, planting a kiss to his cheek and throwing your hands up into the air in a winning gesture. 

“You made it, Sunwoo,” you repeat, this time a little more collected.

Sunwoo finally allows himself to put the letter away and look into your eyes. “I made it,” he sighs, a soft smile playing with his features. 

“You did!” you nod, grinning back.

It’s strange. The first step towards Sunwoo’s dream is now complete. He got admitted to the university of his dreams– the one that’s good for athletes, the one that is supposed to shoot him towards stardom. He has the opportunity to take classes there and train with some of the best aspiring players in the whole world. He has the opportunity to move out of the country, live at dorms in Boston, and most importantly, he has everyone’s support. 

There’s nothing more a boy his age could want more. He has everything. His whole life ahead of him, only the brightest future waiting for him at the end– only if he keeps trying hard and improving. He’s happy. Don’t get him wrong– he really is. Somehow, though, it all feels a bit scary.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you excited?” you ask, a pout taking over your once excited features. The amount of worries you have over Sunwoo gets bigger and bigger the older the two of you are. There are only so many things that can go wrong when you are a teenager, but now that you’re adulting, the list keeps getting longer.

“I am,” he nods, forcing a smile onto his lips.

“You don’t seem excited,” you argue.

“I am! I really am,” he says, trying to battle with himself.

“What is it?” 

“What is what?” 

“Come on, Sunwoo,” you sigh, “I can tell when something’s wrong. You don’t have to hide it from me, because I’ll know anyway. What is it?” you insist, staring the boy down with an examining look.

The boy sighs, shrugging to himself. “Well,” he starts, “the school is in America.”

“And?” you start, furrowing your eyebrows. “We knew that when you applied. Why is it such a problem now?” you ask, genuinely not grasping the whole situation.

Sunwoo chews on his cheek for a little while, plays with his fingers in his lap. A part of him is telling him that he both looks and seems foolish– because you’re right. It was his dream, he is excited, and this is good news. But still, there’s something he didn’t really think of when applying. Well, he did. He just thinks that the fact that him being accepted wasn’t really a realistic idea, no matter how hard he wished and prayed for it, so he didn’t have the need to think about it so seriously back then. Now it’s here, all real, and it’s a struggle he didn’t really grasp that he was going to have to go through.

“Well,” he starts again, still avoiding your eyes, “that means I have to move. And we won’t see each other for a while.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence following his confession– one in which he contemplates all possible reactions you might give him, some with truly catastrophic endings– but after what seems like eternities, he hears your soft, gentle voice. “Is that what’s making you so worried?” you ask.

“Kind of,” he nods, feeling his cheeks redden. You handle him with so much care– sometimes, he doesn’t know how to react.

“Awh,” you coo, taking his hand into yours, preventing him from picking at the skin of his cuticles until they bleed– an action he always does and you keep scolding him for. “Sunwoo, we knew about this when you applied. I am okay with you going away. Sure, it will suck, but it’s only for a little time, and I can come visit you there and you’ll show me around and stuff…”

Sunwoo presses a tight-lipped, hesitant smile to his lips. He feels reassured.

“And we’ll call, and it’s going to be fine, because this is good. This is good news, Sunwoo, and you’re gonna do great, and you’re gonna be a star, and I’ll be so, so proud of you,” you hum, voice tender and caring, doing your best at consoling the boy.

“I’m already so proud of you now, y’know?” you hum, squeezing his hand. “Everything will be alright, so don’t you worry.”

Sunwoo’s arms reach out to envelop you into a hug. He once again recognises how easily you fit into his arms, how perfectly you shape into his skin, and when he burrows his nose into your neck, breathing in your scent, he feels your lips reach into his hair, planting a soft kiss into it. Your words did more to the boy than only consult him– they gave him hope, they gave him joy, they made him feel like perhaps, this is not such a terrifying occurrence. And it really isn’t– it’s quite possibly the best thing that he’s ever achieved, and the circumstances of him leaving don’t seem as horrifying to him now. 

As long as he knows that you have his back, he thinks he can do anything. And what’s 3 years abroad against the 4 years he’s known you?

When you pull away, you press your lips against his, the contact making his muscles finally relax and his mind let go of all the worries. There’s suddenly nothing in the world that could make him falter, nothing that could make him worry or stress or fret or change his mind, because he has your support, and you’re here with him, promising him that you’ll always be right by his side, wherever he is.

Your mouth molds against his, the familiar motion of your lips against his still surprising him sometimes, still making him curious even after those months. He’s been dating you for some while, but he still likes to explore what makes you crumble under him, what makes you hum into the kiss, what makes you tug him closer to you– it’s a fun game to him, trying to figure you out completely. 

He still has some time, but it’s like he is trying to engrave those moments into his memory before he no longer can experience them first-hand as easily.

He goes out to explore again– his tongue gently inviting itself into your mouth with a swipe of your lower lip, relishing in the way your composure falters a little bit, letting him be in charge. You were always the more experienced one out of you two, so Sunwoo often shied away from being the one dominating intimate situations– afraid he’s not good enough, too inexperienced, too immature for you– but in the rare moments he does take the lead, your reactions give him a new source of confidence. 

His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, nose pressing against your cheek as he angles you so he has more access to your lips. Something about his ministrations makes you forget to breathe, breaking away from him in a search for much needed oxygen, but Sunwoo acts like he’s been starved of you, latching his lips to the trail from your mouth towards your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses to your soft skin. He faintly remembers the time you gave him a lovebite that one time you came over to his house to work on homework together, sucking and biting at his neck (and although he enjoyed seeing the possessive bruise on his skin whenever he saw himself in the mirror, he wore the strings of his hoodies tightly tied to his neck, shielding him from being teased by everyone– but mostly Eric). He tries to mirror your motions, recreating the action to the best of his abilities.

He hears you grunt, making him fear that he’s doing it wrong– a momentarily panic settling in his chest screaming at him that he hurt you– but the worries are quickly dismissed as you move impossibly closer to the boy, straddling his lap and threading your fingers through his hair, keeping him close. 

Humming under his touch, Sunwoo gets a kick from hearing the sounds coming out of your mouth. It’s like a reward– it’s like the praise he goes after his whole life, like validation of his actions being satisfactory for you. The pressure of your body against his lap makes him feel hot all over, sweaty hands holding you by your sides. Every slightest shift of your figure against his makes him shudder, composure faltering when you move in a way that has his breathing particularly quicken, a bundle of nerves forming in his stomach from the newly found hypersensitivity. There’s only so much fabric shielding the two of you from each other, and just the thought of it is slowly driving the boy crazy.

Pulling away from your neck, admiring the artwork he managed to portray on your skin, he feels you pulling him up to meet your lips again, heated, firm kisses shared in the silence of the room. He feels your hands resting on his abdomen, feeling him up for a moment before you sneak them under the hem of his shirt, dragging your nails against his skin. 

Sunwoo hears a sound escape his throat at the contact, making him instantly feel foolish– until he feels you smile against his lips, following your ministrations by mirroring his previous actions and kissing down his neck, finding all the spots that make him the most reactive– like the place under his ear, the juncture of his shoulder. You revisit all the places you’ve tested before and perfected your aim to make him efficiently crumble under you. Sunwoo finds himself losing the initial control he had over the situation, instead letting you take over and lead him, much like you’ve done in most areas of his life. He likes to be your follower. He likes to see where you want him, where you need him, he likes to comply. It’s more comfortable for him this way. It makes him swell with pride when he makes you happy.

Another shift of your hips against him has Sunwoo digging his fingers to your side, whole body feeling like it’s electrified under your touch. Placing a soft peck to the spot you’ve had your attention on, you mumble into his skin. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Sunwoo swallows, noticing you leaning your forehead against his tenderly, eyes meeting. 

“Are you sure?”

He nods. He’s never been more sure about anything in his life– he enjoys your company, he loves your touch, the way you make his every sense heighten, his heart beat quicker. Still, he feels a bit nervous at the prospected events. “I just– I’ve never done this before,” Sunwoo whispers the obvious, watching as you carefully observe him.

“Sweetheart,” you tenderly call, placing a soft peck to his lips. “That’s okay. Me neither, but we could… we could try and see where this leads us, if you’d like?”

The sweet pet name alone makes the boy let go of all his worries, of the stress and nerves he’s been holding on to for the past few weeks. You hold him like he’s going to break, and Sunwoo’s never felt so loved before. You reassure him that it’s going to be okay. You are there to remind him that life isn’t so hard, as long as you’re by his side.

“Okay,” he nods, smiling at you. 

“Okay,” you repeat, holding his face in your hands as you kiss him again– it may as well be for the thousandth time. Truth is, while he tried to keep up at first, Sunwoo lost count a long time ago.

Everything there is to know about love, Kim Sunwoo learned from you. You showed him the childlike playfulness during your dates. You taught him how to kiss, only to take advantage of his newly found skills and keep them all for yourself. You showed him what it is to share joys, dreams, but also worries together. You were his first crush, date, relationship– and now, his first lover.

In the comfort of your childhood bedroom, holding you closer than ever, Sunwoo dreams of eternity with you. He doesn’t realize what a foolish thought it might be. Somehow, he’s got a feeling that no matter what it is, you two will figure it out. You always do.

to. my first love

September 2000

Muscles sore and whole body heaving in pain, Sunwoo trails inside the small bungalow the university gave him as student accommodation, dropping his duffel bag to the floor. His face is pulled into a small frown as he enters the house and his roommate can’t help but notice. “Everything alright?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Sunwoo hums, nodding at the question. He has 3 assigned roommates– all male, all around his age. Sunwoo’s english isn’t bad, but it also isn’t that great either. He knew that this was going to be one of the main concerns of him moving out abroad, but he figured that the more you encounter the language, the more comfortable you get with it. Due to this, though, the two American boys he rooms with– their names are Josh and Sam– aren’t as close with him. Sunwoo doesn’t really blame them. It’s not like he tried to get close with them anyway. He talks much more with Mark, the one year older boy that’s also Korean, but has been living in the States for years now. The language barrier is nearly nonexistent there, and so he feels much more comfortable.

Not comfortable enough to vent to him about his problems, though. It’s good to share a laugh with Mark when they eat breakfast together in the kitchen, but he won’t go on and talk his ear off about his homesickness, for example. Sunwoo wouldn’t talk to him about the weird, unsettling feeling in his gut whenever he takes the bus or walks down the street, not recognising every face he encounters like he did back home, in his small town. He won’t tell Mark Lee about how much he misses Korea– he’s sure the boy has his own things to worry about. Besides, it’s not like Mark talks about personal stuff with him either. After four days of living here, he can’t say their relationship got to the level of going deep with their personal lives.

And so, Sunwoo walks up the stairs in silence, not giving Mark more information about his mood. Each step up hurts, since the training is twice as demanding as it used to be at home, making his muscles sore and his back hurt terribly from the stone hard mattress in the bed of his new home. He is willing to endure it, but he also has the terrific need to complain about it to anyone that would be willing to listen.

He should start writing a diary, he thinks as he stares up on the ceiling, chewing on the inside of his cheek. It sounds good enough to channel his feelings out into while also not being a bother to anyone else. Besides, he doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s having a hard time here in Boston. This was all his decision, his dream, and sometimes, things are going to get difficult. And that’s okay. Sunwoo just… feels like he lacks the support system he once had back home in Korea. Like someone took it from between his fingertips, forcefully kept it away from him, locked somewhere miles away. Maybe the person who did that to him was himself all along…

Which is why he doesn’t deserve to whine about the fact that he feels terribly lonely. He did this to himself. All him.

If he had a diary, he’d write about the terrible mattress first, he thinks. Then, the weird weather around here– it’s always hot, but not humid. It doesn’t rain as much. He kind of misses the rain. 

If he had a diary, he’d write about how he misses his old coach. The high school coach that always made sure the game was fun, yet productive. He misses his teammates as well. Their team never did big things, but he felt like they were some sort of a family. They knew each other well on the field. They had chemistry. They had fun.

He’d write about how he misses his annoying little sister. How he wishes she would appear in the doorway of his room and talked to him about the stickers she still collects, or dragged him to make another friendship bracelet together. How he feels bad for leaving her all alone back home, even though he was never the one to share his brotherly love for her so outwardly growing up. He feels a sort of appreciation for her that he didn’t quite understand when they were little. They are right when they say your sibling is your first best friend after all. 

He’d write about the second best friend he’s ever made, Eric. He’d write about how he longs for his presence, his encouraging words. His funny remarks, the pranks he’d pull on him. How he always appreciated him being just across the street, how he enjoyed growing up with him by his side.

He’d write about how much he misses you– perhaps the most out of everyone. There aren’t many words he could use to describe how much he wishes for your presence, and so he thinks the pages filled with sentences directed to you would be rather sparse, and it makes him kind of sad to think about. In his mind, you deserve novels written about you. You deserve love letters and poems and essays filled with every little detail of your existence. Maybe if Sunwoo loved you less, he would be able to talk about it more.

When his eyes go out of focus staring at the ceiling, Sunwoo decides to call you. It’s been 4 days since he arrived and he hasn’t spoken to you since you waved him off to the airport. His mother drove him and you couldn’t go to send him off at the gate, but Sunwoo almost thinks he prefers the fact that you only said goodbye to him in front of his house. It would be that much harder if he saw your face the last thing before boarding the plane. 

For the last four days, he’s been slowly settling in, taking in the new country and the new environment. He’d say he was just too busy to call, but that would be a lie.

He was just scared to hear your voice. Terribly.

What if you changed your mind? What if you no longer want to stay with him? What if it’s too hard to handle? And Sunwoo knows it’s hard– hell, it’s the most difficult thing he’s ever done– but all he wishes is for you to keep handling it well. To keep his heart in your hands gently, like you always have, sending him your energy.

He figures that if there’s one thing that can help his growing homesickness, it is to hear your voice. 

Sitting up from his bed and walking over to the bag he carried with him through the airport and kept with him on the plane, he scrambles through the item to find the piece of paper you forced into his hand on the driveway of his house. 

“We changed our landline yesterday, so call me on this number when you get there,” you said, pressing a kiss towards his cheek before you let him get into his mother’s car. Sunwoo promised to call back then– he hopes you don’t mind the delay. Maybe he could blame the timezones…

Hand thrusting into the front pocket of the bag, Sunwoo feels around and tries to fish out the little piece of paper. He’s 100% certain he put it there after he got into the car with his mum, making sure it’s safe and sound. He would hate to lose it– it was some sort of safety net for him. Something to fall back to, something to keep him above the water.

Panic settles in his chest when he doesn’t feel the soft piece of paper anywhere. The boy unzips all other compartments of the bag, turning it around, shaking out everything that’s inside. The phone number to your new landline has to be there somewhere in there. It needs to be.

When he doesn’t find it in his bag, he opens his closet. He throws everything out to the ground– his clothing, his shoes, the notebooks he bought for university– all in the search of the stupid, little, yet so important piece of paper. He searches through all his other bags. All pockets of his jeans, every centimeter of his folded clothing. All drawers of his desk, the whole floor, hell, he even crouches to check under his bed, blowing the dust bunnies out of reach, desperately hoping he could wish the paper into existence. He searches his bed. All possible parts where the landline number could be– some more unreasonable than others. Sunwoo feels like he is losing his mind.

The paper is nowhere in his room. It’s like it vanished. Was it really there at all? Did he dream that moment up?

Running down the stairs towards the landline, he takes the phone off the wall and punches in the numbers to your old landline, the pattern so familiar in his fingertips he couldn’t tell you the number if you asked, but he could recreate it with punching in the buttons in on any other phone in the world. He clenches his fist together, breathing more heavily as he listens in, praying for the universe to stop playing tricks on him and make you magically answer on the other side.

When the phone makes a dismissive sound, signaling that the number he called no longer exists, Sunwoo shuts the phone against the wall and takes it again, putting in your old number once more, like a summoning ritual. Maybe he put the numbers in wrong the first time… Maybe he made a mistake somewhere along the way…

When he gets the same response, he tries again. And again. And again. 

He can’t believe it. Tension settles into his shoulders, making him twirl the cord of the landline in between his fingers as a way to calm himself down, listening in to the dull noise on the other side telling him there’s nothing that can be done, nothing more that he can do. He doesn’t have the number, and somehow, although it sounds foolish, it feels like he lost you alongside it too. 

“Everything alright, man? You look–” Mark enters the room, peering at the boy with curious, worried eyes. It’s only now that Sunwoo realizes he is breathing heavily, fingers clammy on the cord, heart begging to run out of his chest to get all across the ocean to you. It’s only now that he realizes his cheeks are wet with tears, the solidification of his inner turmoil taking a physical form and appearing on his face, making him feel pathetic in front of the older boy.

Sunwoo once again puts the phone back to its original place, but this time, he doesn’t take it back and tries the useless old phone number again. Simply turning away from his roommate, he accepts his fate as he quickly puts on his shoes and slams the door shut after him, going out for a run.

Is this his punishment for waiting too long? Did the paper vanish out of his possession because he was deemed unworthy of hearing your voice? Should he have tried to look for the number earlier? Would this have prevented it?

It’s hard to run when your nose is stuffed and your breathing hitches with silenced sobs, he learns. Sunwoo doesn’t get as far as he would have liked, crumbling on a bench somewhere next to a playground, picking at the dry skin of his lips until they bleed and the irony taste on his tongue snaps him back into reality.

What was once his dream is starting to feel more like a nightmare. When he calls Eric two days after to ask him to get him your new landline number, he gets the news that you abruptly moved out to New York. 

September 2007

“If you really think about it, Y/N,” Sunwoo hums, making you shift your attention towards his serious-looking face, “we never really broke up in the first place.”

The boy is holding a bottle of cider in his hand, one of the four you got on your way to your tonight’s destination. Sunwoo rang the bell to your house a few minutes before 10 PM, and although you weren’t expecting to see him that day and you weren’t even looking as presentable as you’d like, you agreed to take a walk with him. Somehow, the two of you found yourselves climbing over the fence of your old high school, sneaking into the football field, figures settling on one of the benches of the tribune.

“Oh yeah,” you hum, lightness evident in your tone, “you just never called. What’s up with that, by the way?” you ask, snickering when you watch the male avert his gaze in a bashful manner, as if he was embarrassed to tell you his reasoning.

You take a sip of the apple cider, enjoying the sweet, fruity taste on your tongue, watching as the male contemplates his next response for a bit, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I lost your new landline number,” he peeps, voice barely louder than a whisper.

His answer doesn’t register immediately in your brain. The words take a moment to string themselves together into a sentence, taking another few seconds before you understand the meaning of his confession. A soft laugh drags out of your throat, disbelief coating your very essence. “What?”

“Yeah,” he nods, scratching the back of his neck before looking back at you, eyes full of guilt and shame, “I… I lost the number you gave me, and when I called Eric to try to make him get me your new number, he told me you moved to New York, and I guess… I guess I took it as a sign…?” he says, shrugging.

“A sign of what?” you ask, genuinely surprised to hear his answer.

All this time, you thought he didn’t call because he didn’t want to. You thought he didn’t call because he was too busy, too tired to deal with anything else other than his career at the moment. He was trying his hardest and training every day, so you understood that he wouldn’t have time for you every day. When he didn’t call for so long, even after you moved to the States as well– you hoped he’d somehow try searching for your number even then, because in your mind, everything was possible– one day, you just… stopped waiting for him to call. You stopped hoping you would hear his voice on the other side of the line.

And you accepted it. He realized long distance relationships were too difficult to maintain, especially in that time and age, and he had too many of his own worries to take care of before focusing his attention somewhere else. You didn’t resent him, no. You longed for him, you missed him, but you never once hated him for the decision he made. You wished him well, all this time. 

“A sign that… that maybe we weren’t meant to be,” he hums, shrugging. “It sounds stupid, really, but…” he trails off, cutting himself off in the middle of the sentence.

Something about his confession makes you feel a bit lighter. Your shoulders feel like there’s no longer anything weighing them down. It’s not like you waited for an explanation all those years and when you finally got one, something in you shifted into a more comfortable position.

“For me, back then, you were the right person, wrong time. And I didn’t want to let you go, I really didn’t, it’s just… everything was already so hard and the world seemed to put so many obstacles in my way of contacting you, that I thought it was the universe telling me to drop it and let you go. So you could… so you could find someone else, I guess…” he finishes explaining. He averts his gaze from you, pointing it towards the empty field, as if scared to see your reaction to his blabbering. He takes another few sips of his cider, snickering. “It wasn’t fair of me to want you to wait for me either.”

So you could find someone else… You think back to all the times you went on dates after you concluded that your relationship with Sunwoo was over. You try to remember their faces, their mannerisms in such detail that you could only make up one of your previous lovers– the one sitting next to you right now– and you chuckle at your foolishness. Remembering how you kept comparing every new person in your life to the one that stole your heart first, remembering how you thought about him late at night, wondering where he is right now and how he’s doing. You used to look through the sports parts of newspapers, looking for his name somewhere, looking for his team name, but never seeing a glance of how he was doing. You wore the stupid friendship bracelet he gave you in your junior year around in New York, having people point it out and ask about it, all until it broke off by itself  one day and you reluctantly said goodbye to the sentiment. 

You dated around after losing contact with Sunwoo. You don’t really think you found someone else, though. 

“I wanted to wait for you, though,” you say, shuffling closer to the male on the bench, voice sincere. “It was my decision.”

“Well,” he chuckles, “life had other plans for us two.”

His sentence makes you think. A few days ago, it would make you sad. Embarrassed, even. Life had other plans for you two and they didn’t align with what you two have calculated during the summer break after your senior year. Sunwoo didn’t become a star. His football career never took off. He finished his degree and came back home, bitter and heartbroken. 

Your plans ended just as fast as you came up with them. Not going to university after high school, you were left with nothing to do. When the opportunity to take an internship for a news company in New York came to you so suddenly, you took it without thinking, trying to find your place in the big world ahead of you. You had no plan, but you think that maybe, some part of you wanted to get away from your hometown all along. You wanted to do big things, make everyone proud. Being a news anchor wasn’t even something you dreamed of when you were little, so you guess you weren't supposed to really feel that let down, but the defeat still stings.

Or, at least, it used to. You find that the failure doesn’t hurt as much anymore. 

Looking at the male next to you, you think you know the reason why. “It’s okay,” you say, shrugging, “we figured it out anyways, didn’t we?”

“Yeah,” Sunwoo sighs, looking at you with a soft smile playing with his lips. “I guess we did.”

The sound of cicadas hits your ears when you two fall into a comfortable silence. Healing old wounds was surely one of the items on your check list when you came back home, but you didn’t expect to get over things so quickly. You don’t think you would have been able to get over everything alone, though– and this makes you twice as grateful to still have Sunwoo by your side. A sense of nostalgia takes over you at the fact, but this time, it hits you with more fondness than longing for the old times.

“Remember how young we were? It’s like I still see you chasing the ball around the field when I focus hard enough,” you say, pointing ahead of you.

Sunwoo laughs, shaking his head at your antics. “Yeah. I almost see you leading the cheer practice in the back there,” he points, “in your cute cheer uniform, with the ridiculous pom poms in your hands–”

“Hey, don’t call them ridiculous,” you gasp, “they were my favorite part of the whole routine!”

“Oh, I could tell,” he laughs, poking fun at you. 

“Well, you must have liked the pom poms enough to stare at me during practice all the time,” you shrug, teasing the male back. The fact that Sunwoo had a crush on you long before you reciprocated the feelings wasn’t something you two explicitly talked about before, but you always deemed as clear as day. Or, at least, it was to everyone back then.

“I did not–” he gasps, making you gently shove him with your elbow.

“Come on, everybody used to say you had a crush on me back then,” you hum, “you were pretty obvious with it too.”

“You knew?” he looks at you, eyes big and surprised. Gears clearly running in his head, he tries to piece the information together, running through the memories now so distant, but still so clear.

“Girls always know,” you point out, shrugging. You take another sip of your cider, licking your lips after and speaking up again, tone of voice almost confidential. “I just acted like I didn’t. But then I realized I liked you back, so I was trying everything in my power to make you confess to me first. Which… took you long enough, young man,” you giggle, seeing the male shake his head at you in disapproval.

“You could’ve confessed first, if you were so confident,” he mutters, obviously a little gutted by the revelation.

“That would be below my level,” you nod, pressing your lips together into a straight line, “besides, it was fun watching you act all cute and clueless.”

“Don’t call me cute and clueless–”

“That’s what you were, though! Like the time when you got super drunk on your birthday and begged me not to leave–”

“I didn’t even like you back then!”

“Sure you didn’t.”

“I was in denial,” he furrows his brows theatrically, putting the empty glass bottle to the grass, “but I see that you had a lot of fun watching me suffer.”

“Fine, pretty boy,” you say, catching a glimpse of the boy momentarily shying away, presumably at the endearing nickname, his cheeks tinting pink even in the faint moonlight. “Would it make you feel better if I confessed first this time?”

“Huh?” the boy asks, lips parted, eyes a big, honest pool of honey.

Cute and clueless, you think.

The story comes full circle when you realize that this football field is perhaps what started it all. This is where you ran up to the new addition to the team, saying that your favorite number was on the back of his jersey. As the leader of the cheerleading team, you took it as your job to make every newbie feel welcomed– no matter if they were a fellow cheerleader or a football player. You didn’t expect for the boy to never stop wearing the number– although it was your favorite, it didn’t seem to be so important back then. (One day, you learned that Sunwoo kept the number on his jersey even after moving abroad. You read it in one of the sports magazines you foolishly flipped through in every kiosk you encountered and almost teared up in the busy store after.) 

This field is where you watched him play football every week. It’s where you both practiced, sending each other funny faces after the coach was mean to either of you for not being focused on your training. 

This is where Sunwoo found his passion– where he found his dream. This is the place that shifted the next couple of years of your life towards all sorts of directions. This is where he kissed you after winning a match, a gleeful confession slipping past his lips. This is where your relationship started, and metaphorically, also ended. The field that kept you apart is now a thousand miles away, but the one that brought you together is now right in front of you.

You guess it’s only right to use it for new beginnings.

“I think… I think I’m still in love with you, Sunwoo,” you start slowly, playing with your fingers in your lap, “well, I don’t know if my feelings for you ever ended… they could’ve, I mean, we were apart for so long… I just… all I know is that I don’t want us to be apart anymore, and I–”

Your words die on your tongue when the boy cuts you off with a kiss, the taste of apple cider mixing on your lips. The way he kisses you didn’t really change even after so many years, still swaying you with the familiarity of his loving. Still, even though you know the way he angles your jaw, the way he presses against you, the way he takes his sweet time, truly showing you how much he enjoys the act, you never grow tired of it. Something in you reacts the same way as when you were young. There’s still excitement, there’s still tender softness in your heart every time you kiss him.

His lips break apart from yours, a playful tint in his words when he speaks to you again. “Don’t try to take credit for it now,” he says, “because the last time I checked, we never really broke up in the first place, so you could say we were dating all along, all because I confessed back in–”

“God, you’re unbelievable,” you grunt.

“But you love me,” the boy says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is.

“Always have,” you say, pressing a quick peck to his plush lips, “always will.”

The starlight glazes your cheekbones when you rest your forehead against his, as if to send him a telepathic message that is worth more than a thousand words. It’s hard to find the words to explain the mixture of your emotions right now, but when your memory washes up the encouraging monologue Sunwoo offered to you when you first arrived, you finally agree with his sentiment. Perhaps, one word could summarize it all– you feel truly content. 

They say you never forget about your first love. At 25 and still counting, you guess you could say that’s true.