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#sunwoo angst
sohnric · 2 months
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to. my first – k. sunwoo
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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.)
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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?”
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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?
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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.
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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.
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“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.”
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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.
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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?”
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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.
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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.
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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. 
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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.
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slmjaeyuns · 1 year
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☼ kim sunwoo fics that altered my brain chemistry ☼
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all time favourites ♡
(fics contain a combination of genres including fluff, angst, suggestiveness, smut)
♡ the boy ♡
♡ blurred lines ♡
♡ this is how we fall ♡
♡ heart shaped exhaust pipes ♡
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fluffs ❀
❀ pose ❀
❀ odds ❀
❀ yūgen ❀
❀ rekindle ❀
❀ love sick ❀
❀ seat filler ❀
❀ safe place ❀
❀ you’re safe ❀
❀ hoodie talk ❀
❀ aquaphobia ❀
❀ when it’s right ❀
❀ goal: your heart ❀
❀ walking on sunshine ❀
❀ from my moon to yours ❀
sequel: ❀ under our stars ❀
❀ you look hideous on me ❀
❀ when the hydrangea bloom ❀
❀ what type of cheese are you? ❀
❀ what happens in vegas, stays in vegas ❀
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angst ☽
☽ jeong ☽
sequel: ☽ commitment ☽
☽ clouds ☽
☽ daisies ☽
☽ die for you ☽
☽ going high ☽
☽ dandelions ☽
☽ spring snow ☽
☽ run with hell ☽
☽ take me back ☽
☽ dear stranger ☽
☽ stubborn love ☽
☽ bloom for you ☽
☽ come back home ☽
sequel: ☽ promised you the moon ☽
☽ today’s happiness ☽
☽ the girl i haven’t met ☽
☽ maybe in another life ☽
☽ a pink sweater in spring ☽
☽ rewind, revive (all that we are.) ☽
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suggestive/smut ☁︎
☁︎ ridin’ ☁︎
☁︎ bbgg ☁︎
☁︎ insanity ☁︎
☁︎ attention ☁︎
☁︎ unnamed ☁︎
☁︎ consuming ☁︎
☁︎ lucky charm ☁︎
☁︎ plein d’amour ☁︎
☁︎ ditching plans ☁︎
☁︎ st. fratty’s day ☁︎
☁︎ relax, let’s do it ☁︎
☁︎ so much for self control ☁︎
☁︎ a little tmi between friends ☁︎
2K notes · View notes
from-izzy · 3 months
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[06:36] | tbz kim sunwoo
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» ​PAIRING: tbz kim sunwoo x fem!reader » TROPE/AU​: established relationship au, marriage au, non-idol au » GENRE​: suggestive!!!!, little fluffy fluff at the end (and the start), flirty kim sunwoo, sunwoo is a sweetheart who makes you blush, sunwoo who lends you his clothes to sleep » WORD COUNT: 2594​ » ESTIMATED READING TIME: 10 mins » WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!): suggestive!!!!, lowkey (?) domsunwoo, pet names (princess, bubs) because sunwoo can't control himself, a ton of kissing leading to a make-out session...in bed..., hickies (reader receiving) because s*nwoo can't control himself, pretty...thin walls, almost getting caught...by their child, you both are very much in love
navi/masterlist!! 🤍
hmmm...HMMMM---
thank you for beta reading @daisyvisions @justalildumpling and @winterchimez for reading and helping me with the warning sections!! 💕
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You don’t know anyone with as much energy as you and Sunwoo at the break of sunrise.
“Sunwoo!” You lift your legs to your stomach, stifling your laughs down by clasping your hands over your mouth, “Wait wait wa—”
In response, your husband did everything but your request, continuing to bury you both underneath the white duvet and tickling the sides of your body, “I’m not the one that’s going to wake our little princess up!” He responds between your kicks and squeals, your happiness radiating back to him.
Just a few minutes ago in the warm morning, you still slept soundly in your bed with Sunwoo. Your face hid from the moonlight at night and the sunlight in the morning by pressing your forehead near his collarbone, and Sunwoo would keep you there with his hand on the back of your head. Sunwoo’s other arm snakes below the side of your waist on the bed and his hand on your lower back brings you intimately closer to him, caging you in his loving embrace. You, very much enjoying being the small spoon, had both your hands on his chest, occasionally clenching his loose shirt in your sleep to subconsciously confirm to yourself that your husband was still near you. Sometimes, when your hands would hold onto his material so hard to the point where the backside of the collar tugs him awake, he would dip his head down and kiss your eyelids, nose, forehead, and cheek before finally landing on your lips softly and comfortingly to make you relax back into your sleep.
Closer to the current time, Sunwoo wakes up to the unusually loud chirping of the birds outside the window behind him. However, his frown and frustrations all disappear when he sees his wife still sleeping soundly beside him. No one would be able to fully understand the amount of love that Sunwoo holds for you. Ever since you took his hand in marriage, waking up next to you quickly became his second favourite, most cherished, most anticipated thing that he would look forward to; a far second to your kisses and the way you kiss him lovingly each time. On the days when one of you would be too worn out from the day’s activities, your body would give up first. Even though it hurt to be going to sleep alone on the cold and big bed, you both knew that at some point in the night, the ‘I love you’ whispers directed at each other would never fail to put a smile on your faces.
“Hmmm…” Your husband hums to himself, closing his eyes once more and pulls you closer to him. His smile widened at your shampoo's familiar scent, and he couldn’t help but press his lips to yours, “Bubs.”
The deep giggles from across you finally made your eyelids lift, your eyes still squinting from both the light and the tiredness that is still in your system. You groan at the continuous kisses that started from your plump lips, now trailing up to the tip of your nose, your eyelids and back down to your jawline. The way you would attempt to hide your blush by turning over to the other side would be the start of the early morning chaoticness between you both.
Going back to the first dialogue, Sunwoo resorted to tickling you, still pressing light kisses to every part of your exposed skin that his shirt failed to cover properly. It started from your face, collarbone to your shoulder, and you continued to try to contain your laughter to avoid waking up your daughter in the nearby room. You tried to reason with Sunwoo to let you out of this situation alive, using your child as an excuse, but your husband only smirks more at your useless attempt. 
After all the tossing and turning in the bed, you were clearly out of breath, unlike Sunwoo who undoubtedly still had more energy to get some radiant chuckles to escape from your pretty lips—to listen to your voice that he loves so dearly and very much. Managing to finally get a break, you lay flat on the bed. Needless to say, your hair is a mess all over the mattress, some over your face which Sunwoo lightly sways away. There were no more signs of playfulness in your husband’s eyes, especially not with the way he crossed one leg over your frame, his knees now directly next to your hip bones, trapping your lower body as he looked at you with longingness and love. 
Sunwoo just smiles at your beautiful face and his hand automatically slides up from your hips, lifting the cotton material to place his veiny hand on your stomach. “Bubs.” He finally breathes out when you manage to hold his hands, your thumbs soothingly caressing the back of his hands in response.
“Hmm?” The skin contact from the pads of his fingers starting from your shoulder is barely recognisable but you are aware of how he eventually reaches your tired arms on the side of your body. Still keeping eye contact with you, Sunwoo feels the wedding ring on your hand, caressing the diamond he worked so hard for. It’s proof of his love and physical promise that he will stay with you until your last breaths, and the simpler, silver band around his finger that lays on your exposed stomach, is your love and promise to him.
The scene, the way that Sunwoo looks down at you at this moment, is highly familiar. It was the same look he gave you on the night of your honeymoon. The memory flashes through your mind, the light pink blush sweeping on the surface of your cheeks, and your heart beats erratically. Amused at the effect that he had on you, Sunwoo raises one eyebrow, simultaneously on the same half of his face, the corner of his lips lifting as well. A surge of confidence overflows you, grabbing both of Sunwoo’s hands without warning. Sunwoo didn’t back away from your figure, watching carefully at the way your pretty lips parted to let out a soft moan and a ‘good morning, handsome.’ greeting. Not long after, you closed the gap between your mouths, not to kiss him, but to feverishly run your tongue across his bottom, plump lip.
“Sunwoo…” Your voice calls out to him after and he uses a bit of force to tear your hands apart to intertwine your fingers with his, lunging forward to push you back on the mattress and pinning your hands up next to your shoulders.
“God, I love you so much.” Before you could even repeat the same words to him, Sunwoo dives into the crook of your neck and you whimper in pleasure when you feel the surface of your skin between his teeth, “Is this alright?”
You shut your eyes first before mumbling an answer, “M-Mhm.” It motivates Sunwoo to further paint your skin in the shape of his lips. The satisfying feeling makes you squirm under his unrelenting but still gentle touch. You whimper further as a response, your fingers tightening and your toes curling. When Sunwoo’s mouth lands on your left collarbone, you would tilt your head to the right, automatically giving him access that he gratefully accepted.
“Do you remember this?” Sunwoo manages to gasp out, his warm breath hitting your now slightly wet skin due to his intense feelings, “The night that you vowed to be mine. The physical marks that you couldn’t fully get rid of for two whole weeks.”
How could you ever forget? 
Thankfully, there was no need to wake up earlier or use makeup as your blouses always covered the evidence. Thankfully, Sunwoo was also nice enough to keep it within an area that would be easily covered with most of your wardrobe outfits—minus the spaghetti straps and lower neckline dresses which would drive him absolutely wild.
Sunwoo remembers all the marks that he made around your chest and neck area on that night because he’s thought about it: he wanted to place the marks that would just be hidden behind your work clothes but just enough that when you both were back home, the lightest tug would reveal the masterpiece that you let him put the night(s) before. The strategic plan made it easy for Sunwoo to recreate the marks and for you to focus on the parts of your skin that he is focusing on and will focus on.
But this time, it was harsher, more passionate, more loving. Sunwoo has been craving this moment with you, and even after he finished making his usual marks, he continued to trail upwards where he knew you would mewl and gasp at his touch. The new sensation knocks the air from your lungs and you desperately beg for Sunwoo to continue his act.
You cannot believe that a second ago, you thought you were completely out of breath. Because if the earlier events really did make you feel out of breath, then you didn’t know how to describe this one.
“Bubs.” You took note of the series of exhales on your neck that slowly but surely calmed down. Even with your eyes still shut, you can still make out the shadow above you, “You alright?” Sunwoo releases his hold on both of your hands, relocating his palms on the sides of your neck, caressing the underside of your jawline and a longer, passionate kiss that muffles the remnants of your deeper pants from before.
“More than alright, love.” When you open your eyes, the darker look in his eyes from earlier is completely gone. Now, only heart-shaped sparkles reflected the windows of his soul and you would both argue to each other that the other was the reason who put them there, “Are you alright?”
“Of course I am.” Sunwoo’s face closes in on yours once again, leaning his slightly wet bangs on your exposed forehead—it’s obvious that you both couldn’t get enough of each other. The anterior side of his forearm rests next to your face to properly balance his weight as he admires his wife. His other palm cups your still-warm cheek, “How could I not be when I have the smartest, kindest, prettiest and sexiest woman here? And guess what?” He buries his fingers underneath your hair strands, “She’s mine.”
“You’re such a flirt.” 
“You love it.”
“You’re right.” Slowly wrapping your hands around Sunwoo’s neck, you pull him to give an innocent kiss, “I love you.”
You allowed the calming atmosphere to fill you both, tilting Sunwoo’s head to lean his still-warm forehead on yours, the tips of your noses rubbing against each other as you both smile gleefully. The birds continued to sing their songs to each other, most probably waking up your neighbours and any houses with thin walls like your own. 
“Mumma!”
The couple quickly scrambles at the distressed screaming. The father jumps back on the bed, scurrying to hide his body inside the blanket with widened eyes on the freshly made marks that were growing darker and more evident by the second, “B-Bubs, your neck.”
Your hands fly to your collarbone, your own eyes wide at the realisation, “Oh shit.” Both of you knew that there wasn’t much that you could do, so you just opted for the fastest, but unfortunately nowhere secure, way of hiding the remnants by pulling the back of Sunwoo’s shirt to make the front neckline higher until it reached the base of your neck. You sat down on the excess fabric that you made to secure the new neckline in place, just in time for your four-year-old to burst through the door.
When your only child finally steps into the room with hurried steps, you take notice of her white fist around the bunny ear of her favourite plush. The snot runs down her nose and her reddened philtrum tells the couple that she has been wiping her nose for a while. The light grey fabric of the raccoon onesie that she had been matching with your husband now looked darker as the waterfall from her eyes continued to fall onto the fabric. The evidence of the stress that the younger girl showed to her parents made you both gasp in surprise. 
Sunwoo springs into action quickly, kneeling in front of his daughter to get to her eye level, “What’s wrong, princess?” He takes hold of her shoulders, gently applying some pressure to make his presence known to his little girl, “Did you have a nightmare?” 
She only nods furiously as a response, leaping forward for comfort in her dad’s arms. The bunny hits the back of Sunwoo’s head due to the force of the little girl’s arm swing, “I-I think there is a monster in the room! I heard mumma scream!” She wails, her shuddering lips pressed onto the top of Sunwoo’s shoulder. 
“Oh no no no, baby.” Sunwoo soothes your daughter who continues to let out broken wails and cries, drenching his shoulder in the process, “T-That wasn’t what you thought it was.” His heart swells. On one part, it was the admiration of the fact his daughter loves his wife. The other part was the nervousness that the thin walls did not keep the privacy of his acts within their four walls. “Plus, dadda won’t let anything happen to mumma.” He pushes the thought away for now, hearing the bed creaking behind him, “See, look?” With this indication, your daughter lifts her head to see you approaching the little family not too far away from bed.
You still had one hand behind your back to pull the shirt. But, you made it to the little huddle, tucking the shirt under your thighs before kneeling beside Sunwoo and running your hand over your daughter’s back. “Mumma is alright, baby.” You spread your arms open and your daughter lets go of her dad to run straight into her mum’s chest.
You readjust the heartwarming position by wrapping an arm around your daughter’s waist, tilting her body to the side and quickly tucking your hand behind her knees, letting her sit down on your own two knees as comfortably as you can, “A-Are you really okay?” 
The arm around her waist is now around her shoulder to make sure her body doesn’t slip down from yours. “I really am okay, baby. Thank you so much for worrying about me.” You continue to reassure her, pinching her cheek and successfully putting a wide smile back on her face.
Sunwoo sighs out in relief, the deep exhale from his body gaining your attention. From the corner of his eyes, he sees your frown and the disapproving shake of your head. In response, his lips inaudibly moved in all kinds of shapes and sizes, and his hands flew around in the air to emphasise that he was just as stressed as you were. You squint your eyes in response, your pupils darting to the four walls that made your bedroom, and Sunwoo nods in defeat as he understands fully what you mean.
You thought it was all over, the sun bright and happy along with your now composed family. But it was just the nature of children to be curious about everything they see. Your daughter speaks up once again, asking about the now bright red prints on your collarbone, even pointing to the ones visible to her. Sunwoo responded to her act first, cursing under his breath when your wide eyes met his mischievous smile.
“Kim Sunwoo!”
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navi/masterlist!! 🤍 tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿
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sungbeam · 6 months
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𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞
agent!kim sunwoo x agent!fem!reader
6.3k words, enemies 2 implied lovers?, spy au, angst, action, swearing, depictions of violence/blood/weaponry, drinking, UNREALISTIC STANDARDS FOR HOW LONG SOMEONE CAN BLEED OUT T_T, mentions of murder and death, i think that's the bulk of it?
a/n: requests now closed! omg i actually had quite the trouble writing this one 🤧 but i hope it's still enjoyable!! thanks so much @shakalakaboomboo for ur req <3
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There was something about the rain tonight that would make the smell of blood even more distinct. The moment you stepped out of the cab, you were hit by a wave of hot, all-consuming heat, accompanied by the insistent drumming of the downpour. The near abandoned streets tonight were doused in the scent of petrichor, and you blinked the water out of your eyes as you made your way toward the entrance of the building of interest.
Just as you had expected, Chanhee had logged your identification into the system, and your card alerted green with no problem. The man standing guard by the scanner passed you a nod. “Evening, Miss.”
You gave a nod back, sweeping your hand through your drenched hair to get it out of your eyes. “Good evening. Is there a bathroom nearby? I’m kind of new to the building.”
He pointed down the hall, around the corner. “Right that way. Have a good night.”
“Thanks, you, too. Stay dry!” You added the last part with a lighthearted smile, coaxing a similar expression from the guard who no doubt had a long night ahead of him. If everything worked out okay, he would still be able to leave alive. If everything worked out perfectly, then everyone could leave this building alive tonight.
You winced to yourself as the soles of your shoes squelched with each step, the shiny marble floors becoming even more shiny as water dripped down to form a trail to the bathroom. You found the ladies’ washroom right where the man had said it would be and let yourself in.
You saw his reflection before you even saw him. Your heart leapt in your chest, but that slowly came back down to Earth when your brain processed who it was. Eyes narrowed, you went over to the middle stall and enclosed yourself within.
“Took you long enough,” Kim Sunwoo, the bane of your existence, drawled. He stood outside of the stalls, leaning against the sink counter, with his body fully equipped with all the necessary items. He seemed to be fully dry, despite it having rained cats and dogs outside. The suit was dry, his hair was dry. Everything about him was pristine and neat and ready to go—howdy doo.
You glared at the door as if you were Superman with x-ray vision and laser eyes. There was a garment bag hanging on the back of the stall that you swiftly unzipped to swap out your drenched clothes with. “What the fuck are you doing in the women’s restroom, you perv?”
“Well, the only other person in here is you, so I wouldn’t say it was much of a scandal. It’s just you, after all,” he replied snidely.
You shivered as the air hit your cold, wet skin, and you hobbled into the pair of dress slacks that were given to you. You really hoped that Chanhee hadn’t given you a pair of chunky loafers just for “fashion’s” sake this time. (You appreciated his fashion advice on any other occasion, except when you were on an assignment.) To your relief, they were a simple pair of flats, and you dug out a note in the left shoe with Chanhee’s scrawl: Found the most boring, “practical” pair of shoes in the closet. You’re welcome.
“Do you ever worry about sounding like an asshole?” You voiced out into the echoey bathroom as you buttoned up your blouse and donned your suit jacket. “Oh, wait. I forgot that assholes don’t have to worry about sounding like an asshole.”
You could hear his eyes roll from behind the door.
Once you were done, you shoved all your sopping wet clothes into the garment bag and stepped out of the stall to twist your hair up and off your shoulders. Sunwoo eyed you from his little corner. There was a screen propped in one of his gloved hands as he went over the schematics of the building and where the two of you needed to go to retrieve the required target before the auction.
“Are we ready, princess?” He asked sarcastically while you double checked the weapons and tools hidden in certain parts of your clothing. Knives, ammo, lock picks, and a gun.
You ignored his mocking nickname for you. "Do you have the money?" You asked him as you both started making your way to the bathroom door.
"No." He nearly crashed face first into your back from how abruptly you stopped. He frowned. "Can you move—?"
You whirled on him. "We can't go to an auction to bid on an item without money," you said, feeling your pulse rise in your neck.
"We can," he huffed, reaching around you to open the door and usher you out, "if we're not there to bid."
"Since when were we not going to bid for it?" Your head went on a swivel, voice low, as you stuck close to Sunwoo on the way over to the private set of elevators further down the hall. It was awfully quiet in the lobby, save for the sounds of your breathing and footsteps.
Sunwoo passed you his device and reached into his jacket pocket to toss you a card on a lanyard. "Since Changmin and I decided it would be easier to just steal the damn thing instead."
Your head raced as you skimmed through the schematics and plans that Sunwoo and Changmin had come up with. These were blueprints of the auction room, neighboring rooms, and vents. Yeah, chunky loafers would not have done you any favors tonight.
But footwear wasn't the problem. The problem was that half the team had gone and decided on a whole new plan without consulting the other half. You jammed your finger against the "up" button to summon the elevator. "Of course, you would go behind my back and just decide this."
He tucked his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. "The director already okayed it. Plus, they weren't willing to give us more money than they approved of."
The elevator doors opened, and the both of you stepped inside. Sunwoo reached over and jammed his thumb against floor forty-two.
You leaned your head against the elevator wall, eyes fluttering closed. You would have throttled the director for not approving of more money being put towards this assignment. You thought it would only make sense since the flash drive that was being auctioned off tonight contained such highly sensitive information. It just didn't make sense.
"If we won the auction the right way," Sunwoo suddenly said as you mentally cartwheeled through about a dozen potential scenarios and concerns, "that would simply put a target on our backs for those who want it. Stealing it first would keep our identities low profile."
You had to admit that his words had some reason to them. You watched the numbers on the elevator tick-tock its way up to level forty-two. "So what's the plan, Oh Mighty One?" You asked, inspecting the card on the lanyard around your neck. It had the same identification as the card you'd used to get into the building, but this one had a special seal in the corner that would no doubt be used to get you into the auction itself.
"You're gonna cut the lights, and I'm gonna steal the drive."
Your head whipped toward him. "You're shitting me. I'm not a man-in-the-chair, Sunwoo."
"Never said you were," he said. "It's just too risky to have us both go for it."
Something creeped into your chest and your fingers clenched around your lanyard. "Don't give me that bullshit," you said, having to pull back a full-on snarl. "Just say you have zero faith in me to my face." It was just like the academy all over again. You could hear his taunts egging you on from across the sparring mat, could envision his gaze cutting toward you with every first rank he received. He was good at almost everything, while you had to haul ass to even get to second.
You were so sick of being underestimated.
He considered you for a moment, but you couldn't look him in the eye, choosing instead to stare straight ahead at the steel doors of the elevator. He opened his mouth to say something, but the elevator slowed to a stop and the two of you had to walk out onto the floor.
The two of you fell into step with one another as you made your way down the hall to the large pair of doors at the end. There were two men stationed on either side, dressed in the typical dark suits and earpieces. Attached to their belts, you noted the shotguns hanging there. If you could get closer, you might be able to identify the model…
"IDs," said the one on the right when you and Sunwoo approached.
You and Sunwoo held your cards face up, and both guards took a device from their back pockets to scan the seals in the corner. When their devices lit up green, they reached for the doors and beckoned you through.
The auction room itself looked cavernous with its wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, ceiling dripping with panels of modern lighting, and pedestals littered about the room like a fancy showroom of expensive black market items. You and Sunwoo stuck together mainly, thankfully not sticking out like a sore thumb thanks to the business smart attire you'd changed into. There were a few people with more luxury branded garments on, but other than that, it seemed Chanhee had hit the dress code right on its nose.
Sunwoo tapped you on the arm with the back of his hand, his fingers subtly marking out the chairs, the second floor railing around the perimeter of the room, and the guarded door by the foot of the stage. "We need a distraction to get in there. Once we get inside, we'll have plenty of time to grab the thingamajig since it's the last on the—"
"Hold on—the thingamajig?" Your face screwed up in incredulity.
"Are you judging? Why are you judging?" He asked, plucking twin flutes of champagne off an orbiting waiter's tray. He handed you one. "Drink this. Act natural."
You rolled your eyes and chugged the glass. While you did think Sunwoo was good at a lot of things, alcohol tolerance was one of the few where you came out on top. Right now, you were going to take full advantage of it because that liquid courage was definitely needed. "You say that like I've never done this before, lightweight."
"Oh, shut up."
You and Sunwoo lingered for a moment, pretending to eye the list of auction items being displayed on the flat screen on stage. According to the countdown timer, the two of you only had a few minutes before—
The lights went out.
A gasp fell over the crowd as you placed your empty glass on a nearby table and grabbed Sunwoo by the upper arm. "That wasn't you, was it?" You whispered to him, making your way toward the side of the room where the back door was.
"Yes, because I can control electricity with my mind," he hissed back at you.
"Everyone, please remain calm—" a man had stepped onto the stage and was attempting to placate everyone in the room. He had his hands held out, an easygoing smile on his face. All of the guards and staff members were holding up emergency flashlights, and a few other guests were beginning to pull out their cellphones.
Yours and Sunwoo's eyes darted from the crowd to the man guarding the back door. To your surprise, you saw the man pause at something in his earpiece, before turning around to enter the door he was guarding.
"Fuck, catch the door," you said to Sunwoo, grabbing the glass out of his hand and shoving him toward the door.
He launched for it, barely shoving his body through the opening before it clicked shit. He grimaced as you caught up to him. "This door is fucking heavy," he said, baring his teeth at you when he noticed you were trying to prevent the champagne from spilling. "Can you put down the damn alcohol, Ln?"
"It might come in handy," you quipped, slipping in through the door behind him.
When the door shut behind you, the hallway was encased in darkness, save for the haunting red EXIT signs above your heads, one at each end of the hallway. You followed Sunwoo's lead since he'd been the one to study the blueprints of this place, your free hand grazing over the pistol hanging from your belt beneath the flap of your suit jacket.
"What the hell happened? That wasn't one of us, was it?" You voiced into the dark.
Sunwoo had whipped out a small flashlight and put the butt in his mouth to hold while he jimmied the opposite door open. "Mm-mm," his answer was muffled, but you knew what he meant. The door fell open a little too easily, and Sunwoo only cocked his head in curiosity for a moment, then he was moving forward.
The hair on the back of your neck stood up when you heard voices echoing from somewhere within this next room. The AC was jacked up to a decently high power here, keeping the room cool and dry for all the items that were supposedly being auctioned. This next room was a labyrinth of shelves, and through them, you could make out the movement of lights slicing through the spaces.
"This feels too easy," you murmured to your partner as the two of you peered through the cracks between shelves.
"Yeah, no kidding," he muttered back. "I think somebody is trying to steal something, too."
"The drive?"
"Could be."
The voices came closer, footsteps shuffling and light swarming through the shelves like visible beams through a thick fog.
You grabbed onto Sunwoo again and yanked his arm over your shoulders. You felt him stiffen. "Act drunk, you idiot," you instructed into his ear, "and when they get close enough, do the thing."
He sent you a look. "The thing? And why do I have to be the drunk one again—"
"Freeze!"
Both you and Sunwoo's heads shot up as bright lights blinded your vision. You couldn't tell how many there were—two? Three? But you felt Sunwoo relax in your hold as he sunk into the role you'd assigned him.
"I'm so sorry," you lamented, holding up the flute of champagne in your hand. "My friend over here just drank waaay too much at the open bar and started wandering."
The lights were nearing. "How did you two get back here?" Asked the same voice.
"The door was unlocked during the power outage! I am so—" Your eyes found the circle shapes of the muzzles of handguns being pointed at you and your partner when they had neared enough, "—sorry. We're just a little lost now."
You squeezed Sunwoo's side as you hobbled the two of you closer to the lights like a damsel in distress. "Just point us in the right direction and we'll be—"
If you didn't know Sunwoo like you did, you probably wouldn't have even registered what just happened. But within the blink of an eye, you felt him leave your grasp, and you tossed the glass of champagne at one of your opponents. "Hey, catch!"
On instinct, the one across from you had to drop something to catch the flying glass of champagne, and unlucky for them, it happened to be their gun. Your foot kicked that sucker like a soccer ball beneath the nearest shelf. You grabbed the champagne out of their hand—thanked them for holding it—then smashed the glass over their head.
Quick and easy, yet your heart was pounding against your chest. What the hell was going on?
When you were finished, you leaned down to pick up the fallen flashlight. Sunwoo was looming over his own opponent with his boot on the man's chest, and he pocketed the spare gun while the flashlight hung from his other hand.
You both looked at each other. "We gotta go."
"I can't believe you made me do the drunk scenario."
"Can you just shut up and focus?"
Navigating the maze of shelving was a lot easier with the flashlights. At least now, both of you could see where you were going without fear of anyone else catching you. But when neither of you found the so-called hard drive you were tasked with retrieving, you were met instead by another door leading out to another unknown location.
Sunwoo dove in headfirst. (Right, he studied the maps. Ugh.) "I have a feeling someone's taken the drive already, so be prepared to shoot."
The next room was a long corridor that sloped downward toward a lone elevator. Creepy.
You scowled. "Like I'm never prepared to shoot?"
His gaze was equally as disgruntled. "Just because you got the highest marks in all of our projectiles classes doesn't mean you'll actually shoot."
That remark was something akin to an arrow to your chest. A muscle feathered in your jaw as he called the elevator up to the floor. "You were the top of class in projectile training; you have a license to kill; and yet, you have zero kills in your stats."
How the…? "I don't have to kill to execute my objective. Those aren't assignments I take," you countered, stepping into the elevator when it opened its jaws for you.
Sunwoo crossed his arms over his chest. "Ln, you didn't even take the gun away from the guy earlier. That is protocol."
"I have a gun—"
"That's not the problem, and you know it." He snarled. He took a step near you, both of your tensions rising, heat boiling between your two gazes, nostrils flared. "Just think about it, huh? How many times could you have made it easier on yourself by shooting your way out of something? You know what I would do to have an aim like yours? It's a fucking gift in this field, Ln. And yet, here you are, too scared to even hold a gun—"
You stepped into his space, got up in his face. "You know fucking nothing about me, so quit acting like you do," you snarled and forced the tremor out of your voice. Your hand fisted at your side, close to the weapon you were cursed and gifted to always be tied to.
His tongue poked the inside of his cheek and you were so close to him that you could measure the length of his eyelashes. "What in hell happened to you?"
The elevator dinged. You'd arrived.
You pulled away, mentally shaking yourself away from this conversation. "Don't start acting like you care now."
"I don't," he said as you both walked out of the elevator into a massive underground parking structure beneath the building. "I just need to know that I can count on you if we're in trouble."
"You can," you answered. But there was a microscopic break there, and you were certain he'd heard it, too. There was a question in his stare—he was never as good with guns, but he could fight his way out of a scenario just as well. You were the right choice out of the two of you for anything long range, but the question was if you could still live up to that one-trick reputation.
The underground garage created the perfect echo chamber for loud noises. You and Sunwoo simply followed the audible cacophony coming from further within the garage. Gun rounds were being unloaded without mercy, tire squeals were shut down by no doubt those same gun shots.
You wiped your hand on your pants, sticky from the champagne from earlier, as you and your partner pressed yourselves up against two columns. Just beyond, there was an active shootout taking place—which side had the merchandise, you weren't quite sure of.
Sunwoo signaled to you in a way you recognized from games of capture the flag at the academy. Two fingers swished toward the men behind the cars closest to him, then for you, the ones on your side. Heart hammering against your ribcage, you could only nod, and enclosed your fingers around the handle of the gun in your belt.
You blindly double checked the ammunition loaded up in your firearm, but it was futile since you'd already checked in the bathroom much earlier. It was loaded completely, and very much ready to fire.
You didn't need Sunwoo to signal, because you seemed to know exactly when the other was going to whip around the stone column and take one person out at a time.
Arm—one down—a leg, oh, was that a thigh?—but there went two off your side, as easy as shooting clay pigeons. Instead of a jitteriness filling your nerves, everything seemed to muffle and calm when you had a gun between your fingers. Like second nature, you picked off people (without killing them) before they even realized their mates were gone.
You would nail them in the arm, the shoulder, the butt, the leg, then duck behind the pillar for cover. Guns had become too easy of a game for you.
You barely even noticed that the others on Sunwoo's side started shooting at both of you.
"Fuck," you heard your counterpart curse as he pressed himself against the column.
The two of you connected gazes, and he didn't even have to ask before you were pulling down the hammer again and taking aim—
"LN—YN! BEHIND YOU!"
Your heart lurched into your throat, and you dove.
A line of bullets buried themselves into the concrete where your head had been, and you winced, feeling the burn of concrete through your clothes.
You rolled behind the nearest car, swearing as you clambered to your knees for cover. Somebody had set up a few cars behind you, ready to take you out with an automatic rifle.
"Sunwoo, you need to cover me," you shouted at him, glancing over your shoulder for his visual confirmation.
He gave a firm nod, already leaping into hand-to-hand action and ditching his gun for his more trustworthy melee weapons instead.
Through the windows of the car, you could just make out movement of the gunman. You crawled over to the other side of the car, tracking the feet and legs you could see beneath the vehicles. You reloaded your pistol, smacking the magazine into place, then pressing the hammer down.
Shots suddenly rained down on you, and you pressed yourself further to the ground.
"Come on, come on," you urged, "reload already."
And when you heard that beautiful sound of silence, you yanked yourself to your feet, pointed the barrel through the window, and shot. You heard the curse, and it was enough for you to whip over the back of the car and smack the butt of your gun into their head. The gunman went crashing to the concrete; you tucked your pistol away and picked up the automatic.
The heft of the gun was an old friend—it sank over you in cold realization… how much damage you could do with this.
With pursed lips, you emptied out the gun and kicked it under the car.
You rushed to line up a shot with your pistol to help Sunwoo who was juggling a fight against two others.
He didn't need that much help, but there was the glint of a knife, and you didn't even blink. The bullet buried itself in one of their shoulders, and Sunwoo elbowed him off his back, shoving the other's face into the car in front of him. He yanked his opponent's hair back and smashed their head into the metal again.
"You got it?" You asked him, sliding over the hoods of cars to get back.
He knew what you meant. Blood ran down his nose and there was a purplish cut on his lip. Sweat dripped down the side of his face as he dumped the now unconscious foe to the concrete. "Yeah, it went flying somewhere over there," he inclined his head down a row of cars, and you gave a nod.
The two of you jogged over in the direction Sunwoo asserted and began looking for the discarded drive.
You straightened after ducking beneath a car, but your eyes caught a flash of someone—your instincts lurched.
"Fuck, Sunwoo—!" You had the time to shove him out of the way as the rounds went flying past your heads and you tackled him.
Something pierced into the skin of your shoulder though, and you felt the bullet rip through your clothes and flay your skin as it passed. Your hand slapped over your arm as you fellz Sunwoo's stabilizing you. "Shit, Ln," he said, grasping your good side.
"It's the guy from earlier," you groaned, feeling the blood begin to pool.
"Huh? What guy—"
"The one I didn't take the gun from in the hall." The regret poured into you as swiftly as your blood flowed out of you. "I'll cover you—just find the damn thing."
He sent you a look, but nodded. "Okay."
You were lucky you hadn't been nicked in your good arm, you thought, as you clambered to your knees and peered over the edge of the car.
There he was, the man you'd smashed over the head with a glass. His forehead was bleeding profusely, but he still stumbled toward you, cocking his gun and firing. You ducked, crouching around the car to get to the other side. Mind racing for strategies, you thought you could easily take him down one limb at a time like the others.
All thoughts went flying out the window though when the man started barreling toward you, teeth bared, like a bull seeing red. You yelped as a bullet pelted the ground an inch from your hand. You ducked behind the car, ignoring the pain in your shoulder to palm your gun and aim.
You heard it hit its target.
But he just kept running.
"Are you serious?" You cursed, then regretting it immediately when he threw himself across the hood of the car to knock you down.
You cried out as your head hit the car behind you, the pain stabbing white in your vision. Adrenaline and fear pumped through you as you fought to keep his hands away from your neck. You even found where your bullet had lodged itself and pressed on it.
He grunted at the feeling, nearly twisting your arm off for that. You were trying, trying, trying.
His gun was gone; it didn't matter. You weren't good at hand to hand.
And your grip on his thick fucking wrists slipped. His hands were around your throat. You couldn't breathe—you thrashed around, smashed your gun against his face. He swept your efforts away, determination pressing his thumbs into the hollow—
BANG!
You saw the life drain out of his eyes. He fell over you, blood and a smoking gun sandwiched between your bodies.
Oxygen rushed into your lungs and you coughed. The realization hit you, a hammer striking against the percussion cap.
You just killed this man. You just shot him, point blank.
Oh god—you heaved his limp body off you, his blood staining your clothing, and you felt like Lady Macbeth, scrambling over blood that would not wash away.
"Yn!" Sunwoo's voice.
You wrestled to your hands and knees. "It's not my blood," you coughed, dry gagging at the sight of the pale body, rigid from rigor mortis.
Your mind was everywhere. Another one dead. What if he had a family? What if what if what if—?
"Ln, come on, you're alive. You can do it."
You were on your feet. There was a ringing in your ears from when your head smashed against the car.
Sunwoo ran over to you and threw your good arm over his shoulder to get you to the car he had broken into. "There you go. Hey, I got the drive. How 'bout that?" He wiggled a slim, black tab—the thing that had caused all of tonight's trouble.
You shook out the orbs dancing in your vision. How hard had your head been struck? "It still feels too easy."
"Don't say that," he groaned. "I just wanna get out of this place."
You really shouldn't have spoken so soon.
You heard the shot before you felt it; then the next one, then the next.
Sunwoo twisted around to shoot three rounds himself, silencing one of the people who had gotten the strength to pull himself up for one last try.
All breath left your throat as your hand reached for your lower abdomen. One of the bullets had gone through, piercing the side of your stomach. It had gone all the way through, back to front, the bullet lodged in the metal of the car in front of you.
You couldn't even see which blood stain was yours.
"Nonononono," Sunwoo chanted as your knees buckled and you started slipping to the ground. "Yn—Yn, stay with me," he urged, laying you gently on the ground.
The pain twisted itself until your eyes watered. You thought you tasted blood in your mouth. "Should've shot them dead like you said," you managed to say.
Sunwoo leaned over you, panic wide in his dark eyes as he held your face between his palms. "Yn, honey, you need to stay with me." He pressed his hands over the wounds opening and you screamed, the sound grating against his ears. He knew it hurt—god, he knew, but he needed to stop the bleeding somehow. Oh fuck.
"I'm sorry I screwed up so many times," you grunted to him. You tasted the iron coating your throat and suppressed the urge to cough it all out. You could barely think with the fucking hole in your stomach, but all you knew was that if he wasn't quick, the shot could be fatal.
"I'm gonna get you out of here." You could hear the resolve in his voice, but the shaky undertone, too. You'd never heard his voice shake before. "Don't apologize." Not until I get you out alive.
He scooped you up and you screwed your face up in agony. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your teeth clamping down on your tongue to muffle the screams. There was blood in your mouth.
It hurt. Fucking hell, it hurt.
He went through the motions of wrestling the car door open, laying you in the passenger seat, trying to find something to staunch the bleeding on both sides.
The whole time, you kept your eyes on his face, trying to ingrain his features in your memory. The blood from his nose had partly dried, but the cut on his lips made his bottom one even poutier.
You'd never seen him so worried, or scared, with the crease between his brows. You wanted to reach up and rub it away.
"Hey," you rasped, catching his wild eyes. "Stop fussing over me and drive."
He clicked his tongue, eyes darting between your face and the knot he was tying with the jacket he found in the backseat. "Yah," he said half-heartedly, "don't tell me what to do."
He passed you another glance before shutting your door and running for the driver's seat.
As soon as Sunwoo collapsed into his side of the car, the elevator, from which you'd come, slid open. A flood of guards in armor and equipped with automatic weapons flooded out in a tidal wave. You both swore a colorful line of words.
"Drive, drive, drive—!" You urged, breaking out into coughs, then doubling over when the motion only intensified the bullet wound.
"What do you think I'm doing, woman!" He yelled and the tires squealed as he pulled out of the parking spot to make a mad dash for the exit.
Bullets fired at the car, lodging themselves in the metal and cracking the back windshield. You heard the glass shatter, and you reached for your gun to try and knock some of them off.
Sunwoo shoved your hand down. "Oh, no you don't. Save your energy, hot stuff."
It wasn't until he had navigated you both away safely from harm's way that you really let everything soak into your head. Your blood marinated the car seat beneath you, and you could feel your energy being siphoned toward the gaping hole in your stomach. Reality dawned on you faster and faster.
Did you fear death?
The streets were empty; it was still raining. You were right about the hot rain—it made the blood scent bolder.
Sunwoo made a turn onto a street, and another, to take any lingering tails off.
"I killed someone tonight," you voiced out into the quiet car amongst the humdrum of rain. It drizzled in through the shattered back windshield and onto the backseat.
"It's okay, Yn," he said quietly. "You had to."
You paused, swallowing. You inhaled sharply and you swore you were starting to get used to the throbbing all over your body. "You… you were right."
"You don't have to do that. Save your en—"
"No," you said with more force. His mouth snapped shut. "I just—" your eyes drifted closed for a moment, "—I just wanted to get this off my chest."
When he remained quiet to give you the space to speak, you told him, "What you said in the elevator was right… I uhm, I feel like a coward when I can't stomach a headshot anymore. I just… Sunwoo, I hate who, or what, I become when I have a gun in my hands."
You felt him glance over at you. "You're not a monster, if you think that's what you are," he murmured. You felt his hand cover yours where you were holding your injury.
"I've hurt a lot of people," you admitted, eyes staring out the front windshield. "The organization told me to pull the trigger, and I did. Even in the academy, I never felt good enough unless I was hitting a target." It had become a momentary triumph only, until every hit made you sink deeper and deeper into guilt. You had been tearing yourself apart at the seams, and you could remember those moments, seeing the fallen with people who cared about them rushing to their side.
The twisting in your stomach suddenly didn't feel like it was from the gunshot.
"Your record—"
"My record is doctored," you said blankly. "They wiped it when I gave up being a sniper."
He meditated on that for a moment, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip. He winced when he was reminded of the injury there. "I know that I was and have been—not the greatest toward you—and... I'm sorry. I think some part of me just thought it would catch your attention—which is no excuse—but…" His finger tapped on the steering wheel in time with his blinker. "I always thought that you would go far regardless. I thought you'd be recruited as a sniper for the high profile shit."
A smile curled at the corner of your lips. "Yeah?"
He nodded, his own lips pressed together. "Yeah. The best, y'know? And I thought… at least as a sniper, you won't be in the line of fire."
Your chest throbbed. "I still got shot, too, though."
"Yeah, but…" He turned into a barren residential street, no doubt toward the safe house nearby. "They wouldn't be shooting at you, I guess. I dunno. That's what I was telling myself, anyway."
You shifted your head slightly to peer over at him. There was a sincerity to his words that you had almost never remembered hearing out of his mouth. You believed him—you believed that he cared. "Thinking about me in your free time, Kim?"
"You wish," he joked, but it was a weaker comeback.
The house he pulled up to was at the end of a cul-de-sac. It was the standard, cookie cutter suburban house, with its front lawn trimmed and windows dark and lifeless. Sunwoo carefully drove the car into the empty garage for privacy, then ran over to your side to help you out.
You could feel yourself falling out of consciousness with all the blood loss.
Your head was drooping as he picked you up in his arms again. The crease between his brows made a reappearance and with your last bit of strength, you reached up to gently rub it away with your thumb. "Hey… I'm gonna be okay," you whispered to him in the dark and quiet of the garage.
He swallowed, peering down at you. "You better be," he said. "Who's gonna have my back then?"
You smiled since you couldn't laugh. Maybe the blood loss was making you loopy (probably), but you swore he smiled just a teensy bit.
He managed to get you on the couch, and you whimpered at the surface beneath you. He disappeared for a moment, but when he returned, it was with a first aid kit and a phone. "I called headquarters; they'll be here in five," he murmured, kneeling next to you and beginning to peel off the blood coated fabrics.
You hissed, body squirming with whatever energy you had left. "I can't believe I'm still alive."
He huffed and gently applied pressure to the wound with gauze. "The only one who gets to kill you is me. Remember that."
"Yeah, yeah," you panted. "Sew me up or something."
"It's gonna hurt. Wanna hold my hand?"
Your eyes met his. "You're ridiculous." But somehow, he managed to make your heart lurch. Even bleeding out and halfway dead, he could make your heart rate spike.
He gave a shrug as he threaded the needle and you held onto the gauze for the moment. "You know what they say…" his voice softened when you both heard a familiar voice announcing his presence from the front door—Changmin. Backup was here. "Enemies make the best lovers, do they not?"
"Did it take me almost dying for you to think of that one?"
Changmin rushed in with a full kit in his hands and practically shoved Sunwoo out of the way. You bit on your tongue as the newcomer inspected your wound.
Sunwoo leaned over the edge of the couch and grappled at your hand, his other brushing the sweaty hair out of your face. "We're not done with this conversation, okay? You better not die on me."
You squeezed his hand when Changmin began stitching you up. "Wouldn't dream of it."
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jumilkies · 1 month
Text
𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙢𝙥𝙖𝙜𝙣𝙚 — 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘸𝘰𝘰
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genre: brother's best friend!sunwoo ft. brother!eric, strangers-to-slight enemies-to-lovers au, angst, fem!reader
warning: mentions of physical abuse, eric is too overprotective, lack of trust between friends
word count: 7k
synopsis: It started from fighting with each other to fighting your brother for each other.
a/n: very late update as usual.
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𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁
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"I got here first."
"Well, I need it more."
"Does that matter? I need it too."
"Just give it-"
"Excuse me, miss? Sir- oh, Sunwoo..." The store worker sighed at the realization, "You two are causing an inconvenience here at the store. If you could just settle this through, that would be greatly appreciated."
You see, you arrived at the mini grocery store to buy a bottle of champagne for yourself after a long, busy week. It turns out that only one bottle of that certain brand you wanted was left, and it was only 11 in the morning on a Thursday. What the hell? So you quickly grabbed the bottle until a voice stopped you from behind, telling you to stop and give him the bottle. The nerve this guy in a hoodie and baggy pants has, he should wash up.
"But I came here first and got this bottle before he arrived, and he's forcing me to give it to him. The disrespect I'm feeling right now from this young man."
"Young man???" The guy in the hoodie furrowed his eyebrows, feeling very offended, "She called me a young man."
The store worker couldn't help but shake his head, pinching the bridge of his nose to maintain his patience. "Sunwoo, just give it up. She clearly got the bottle first, stop causing scenes. This is like the third time this month, I'm tired."
Sunwoo tutted, "Yeah, whatever." He eyed you in annoyance before leaving the aisle to look for other drinks he could buy instead.
"And as for you, miss, please do take that bottle for yourself. We are sorry for the inconvenience, have a great day!" The worker reassured you with a smile, putting on his best customer service tone.
With that, you smiled back at the worker. "Thank you..." You glanced down at their nametag, "...Chanhee?"
"Yes, that would be me." Chanhee nodded to confirm.
"Have a great day too!"
As soon as you were out of sight, Chanhee immediately slapped Sunwoo's arm to scold him about earlier's events. "What did I tell you about fighting with other customers? This is your last warning, Kim. I don't care if we're friends, I might have to ban you from coming here if that happens again." He threatened the man but Sunwoo couldn't care less, he just wanted to get the day over with.
-
Sunwoo came home with bottles of soju and some chips to pair them with, settling them down on the coffee table without bothering to get them out of the plastic. He slumped down on the couch tiredly, as if he had joined a marathon, instead of fighting a lady at the store for a bottle of champagne. He's definitely going to put the blame on Eric for asking to play a game with the loser having to buy the drinks...and you know exactly who the loser was.
"Where's the champagne?" Eric's loud voice resounded across the room, catching everyone's attention. "I've been waiting, what took you so long?"
Sunwoo groaned at the mention of the drink, "No champagne, stop asking." The look he gave Eric was one that could kill if he didn't shut up.
"But, we need it-"
"No, we don't. Now get drinking."
Sunwoo's commanding tone scared Eric in the slightest, so he rushed to get the glasses, ice, and some cooked food from the kitchen to serve everyone in the room: Sunwoo, Juyeon, Kevin, and himself. It was another boyz night, just as usual.
"Hey, man." Juyeon placed a hand on Sunwoo's shoulder before downing his drink in one go. "What happened back there? Why the gloomy face?"
"Some chic-" Juyeon suddenly let out a loud 'ahhh~' beside Sunwoo which made the latter close his eyes in disgust, "...stole the last bottle."
Kevin rolled his eyes from his side of the couch, "We all know you caused a scene again, Sunwoo." He spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Well, it wasn't the first time it happened anyway—don't even ask how many times.
"I don't care, I hate her."
"You hate everyone at this point."
"As it should be."
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Despite Sunwoo's refusal, Eric had brought the man with him to his house while he changed his outfit before going to the nearby club. Sunwoo didn't understand why he had to go with him instead of the others when all he wanted to do was stay in bed until Juyeon picked him up at his own place. But no, Eric insisted that Sunwoo should be there for moral support. Ridiculous, the latter thought.
"Just to let you know..." Eric stopped Sunwoo by the front door, "My sister's home and that's a warning."
Sunwoo quirked an eyebrow, intrigued by the sudden warning. "Oh, should I be scared of her?"
"Man, she's crazy. The worst! You'd hate her."
"Nice, I love hating people." Although it sounded sarcastic, there was a hint of truthfulness in his words.
The noise from inside the house caught their attention, so Eric opened the front door and met with the sight of...
"You?!" Both Eric's best friend and sister exclaimed, clearly displeased with each other's presence.
"You guys know each other?" Eric stood in between the two but was completely ignored.
You were busy preparing yourself a glass of champagne—the same drink that was almost stolen from the man standing just a few feet away from you. Sunwoo's gaze dropped towards the familiar bottle in your hand, and the memories from the store the other day came rushing back.
"Eric, why didn't you tell me?" Sunwoo turned to his best friend incredulously, pissed at the current situation.
Eric, on the other hand, was taken aback, having absolutely no idea what the hell was going on. "What do you mean?"
"Why didn't you tell me that she was your sister? This girl-"
"Don't you fcking point your dirty finger at me, kid." You harshly slapped Sunwoo's hand away from you. Eric almost choked on his saliva at what you had called Sunwoo before bursting into loud laughter.
"Shut up, Eric." Sunwoo glared at him, "Go get changed, so we can leave. I don't want to stay here too long and see her face; that would ruin my night."
"On it." Eric quickly ran upstairs to his room and got changed into a new set of clothes, which was his intention in the first place. Meanwhile, the situation downstairs didn't stop there.
"You talk like you own the place, your ego must be bigger than that head of yours." You remarked from the dining area as you swirled the glass of champagne with your fingers.
The more Sunwoo sees you drinking, the more annoyed he becomes. Just the way you wanted it to be: him losing his patience. You can sense his footsteps coming towards your way until you feel his presence behind you, a hand resting on the table beside your figure.
"Hmm, are you sure? There's something bigger than that." You knew for sure that he had a smirk on his face, and you wanted nothing but to slap it off of him.
Unfortunately for you, you only roll your eyes at his bad attempt at dirty talking. "Just leave."
"Why? I wanna do bad things to you, though."
"Oh, really?" You gave the fakest look of interest ever, "Like what?" Batting your eyelashes to rile him up even more.
To your surprise, he moved his face closer to yours. His breath was fanning the side of your ear, causing shivers down your arms as he whispered softly. "Break your neck."
"Hey! No fighting...or flirting, whatever the hell you two are doing." Finally, Eric's annoying voice broke the growing tension between you and Sunwoo like a lifesaver. "Leave her alone, Sunwoo."
"I will, don't worry. Just gave your sister some words of respect, is all." The man moved away from your face and patted your shoulder, which was a little too harsh for a friendly gesture. "She's needs to know some manners, don't you think?"
What an asshole.
-
"Gosh, how much did you drink?" Your friend asked you for the third time tonight after seeing you stumble your steps towards your seat beside her.
You simply shrugged, "Lost count."
Your friend sighed and looked at your state worriedly, but you assured her that you were fine. You obviously weren't. The loud music, the blinding lights, the people dancing around—you really didn't care about anything at the moment. You were invited by your friend to the club at the last minute because her boyfriend wanted to go and she wanted you to have fun too, so you did only because they paid for you. Wouldn't wanna pass on free party and drinks.
Wanting to get another drink, you stood up with all the energy left in your body and steadied yourself with the table before walking up to the bar. That was until you heard a voice from behind you—a voice you found annoyingly familiar.
"Why are you here?"
You turned around with a bored look, "Why are you here? You own the place?" You scanned his appearance tonight: a black leather jacket with a black shirt underneath and some baggy jeans paired with his usual Jordans. Nothing new except for the gelled-up hair, which showed his pretty forehead.
Sunwoo rolled his eyes at your reply as if it wasn't already expected of you, leaning on to the bar in front of him to order some drinks. "Give me the usual, one for me and one for the lady here."
"Hopefully you aren't talking about me."
You hear him let out a laugh, "Unfortunately, princess..." He turned to you with a playful smirk, "I'm talking about you."
That nickname almost made you stumble on your seat, so you pretended to ignore it to not boost his already big of an ego. "I'm leaving." You stood up from your seat at the bar to go back to where you previously sat with your friend, not caring that you didn't get to order another drink for yourself because a certain someone decided to show up.
"Hey, you didn't even drink this yet-"
You didn't let him finish his words as you drank the drink he ordered for you in one go, so he wouldn't bother you any longer. "There, now leave me alone." You couldn't take another second of seeing his face.
-
A few more shots, and you were absolutely out of it. You excused yourself from your friends and made your way to the bathroom, but the world really was a cruel place, or so you thought. Of all the people here at the bar, did you really have to bump into Kim Sunwoo? Upon seeing you coming towards the hallway where he stood, he immediately blocked the way with his body to tease you, but you weren't having any of his games.
"I'm not here to play with you, Kim. Move."
"And why would I do that, hmm?"
You used all your strength to push him, but it was no use. He was stronger than you thought he was. "Seriously? How immature can you get? Move out the way."
Of course, he wouldn't do that. He loved riling you up and seeing the scowl on your face. He loves teasing you; he would do anything to tease you until you lost your mind over it. He usually doesn't do this to anyone else, but knowing that you were his best friend's younger sister brought a new feeling of excitement. That was his goal, and to provoke you even more, he pushed you against the nearest wall.
"You like this?" Sunwoo taunted you with a question to get a reaction that would satisfy him, only to receive a scoff and a look of disgust.
"I'm not interested."
As if he hadn't bothered you enough, he went closer to whisper beside your ear. The same thing he did earlier in Eric's dining—the same breathy sound he made, which he knew had an effect on your body. "You sure about that, darling?"
Again with the petnames. You decided to play along for once after realizing that he was nowhere near done with you...
"What are you gonna do? Kiss me?"
...and immediately regretting it.
An amused grin was now evident on Sunwoo's face. He was enjoying the moment and feeling satisfied with your reaction because, to your utter surprise, he did exactly what you said—he kissed you.on.the.lips!—making you freeze in place. What in the actual f-
"Don't think about it too much, princess." He gave you one last peck on the cheek before leaving you there in the hallway, stuck in place as you brought your fingers to touch your lips where he had planted his own.
No, you didn't think about it too much; you were still too shocked to process what occurred a few seconds ago. Instead, Sunwoo did against his own will. He had no idea how good and soft your lips actually felt until he did what he thought he wouldn't ever do—kiss you. He had no idea why he did it in the first place, but he knew he wouldn't be the same after that.
Unbeknownst to the both of you, Eric had seen the event play right in front of his eyes, and to say he wasn't happy about it would be an understatement. He loved Sunwoo as a best friend, but he wouldn't let any of his friends date you for multiple reasons. The two of you literally just met, and it already led to this. He found that absurd. The moment Sunwoo disappeared from his sight, he quickly walked up to you before you disappeared yourself. He held your shoulder to get your attention, his expression showing his disappointment in you.
"Stay away from Sunwoo."
"Eric, what-"
"I said what I said, do you get it?" He spoke with all seriousness, so you decided not to fight back.
"Don't worry, I hate the guy." You tried to reassure him with a smile, yet somehow it felt uncomfortable saying those words, and you had no idea why.
"Good."
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"Mind telling me why you are trying so hard to play matchmaker with me and your friend, Juyo...what was his name again?"
"It's Juyeon." Eric pinched the bridge of his nose to control his patience with you, "Like I said, he's a great guy. I've already known him for years, and besides, I think it's about time you find someone to do all that romantic stuff with."
You eyed him suspiciously, "Hmm, that's weird, especially coming from you. You usually don't care about my relationships, then all of a sudden, you're doing this to me." Hearing no response from him, you nodded. "Don't worry, Eric. I absolutely want nothing to do with any of your friends." You waved him off, moving your way up the stairs, when his next words made you halt in your steps.
"I'm setting you up on a date with Juyeon, no buts."
You turned to study his expression, and, oh, was he serious, "Why are you even so persistent about this? I don't get it; what do you gain out of it?"
Eric walked past you, not bothering to look you in the eye. He thought that if he caught the look on your face, he might say things he didn't want to say. "Stop complaining and be grateful that I'm looking out for you."
You didn't fight back anymore, and you didn't know what to say after that. Eric may not show his affection much, but whenever he does, he means it. He always does, and despite acting the way he does with his friends, he never fails to be the best older brother for you. Right now, he's being overprotective of you, and you wanted to know what made him act this way. You're his younger sister, after all. But, why is he doing this?
-
Sunwoo let out a huff in disbelief at what Eric was trying to tell him right now, "You're joking?" He placed both his arms on the headrest of the couch, looking across the room to where Eric stood by the kitchen as he busied himself with some groceries.
"If I was joking, I wouldn't even bother doing this." Eric entered the living room and found himself a seat beside Sunwoo, grabbing a can of beer from the coffee table before leaning back on the couch. "I'm setting you up with a friend of mine."
Sunwoo had no idea why Eric suddenly proposed such a thing: setting him up with someone who he doesn't know, who might be a complete stranger to him...someone who isn't you. He wasn't the type to reject being set up on dates; he enjoys that, but it's different this time. It now felt oddly uncomfortable for him; it made him feel uneasy just thinking about seeing people who didn't match his energy and only liked him for his looks. He didn't want to pretend to be someone he wasn't; he wanted someone to understand him for him. His thoughts led back to you, how you always challenge him with confidence, how you always have your guards up, and to the incident the night before, how soft your lips felt, and how he wishes to feel more-
"Thanks for the offer, dude, but I think I'll pass."
Because you like my sister?, Eric thought, and he hated thinking about it even for a second. Both you and Sunwoo tried to reject the same offer, and knowing that something had happened the other night, he wouldn't let that go easily. "Come on, just go for it. You usually get hyped up with this type of thing; what changed?"
y/n happened. That's what changed. Sunwoo wanted to say, but it would sound like a sin coming from his own mouth. The thing is, he hated you. That's what he should be doing—hating you instead of imagining how it would feel to have you. All it took was one kiss and an attitude to leave a lasting effect on him—something he didn't know he could feel. Then again, it wasn't so 'Sunwoo' of him to be like that. If he accepted Eric's offer, maybe he could slowly forget about everything that had happened. Maybe he could pretend that he didn't feel anything towards you. There's nothing to lose, right?
"Who even is this so-called friend of yours?"
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"Oh it's just you, Emily." Sunwoo stared boredly at the woman in front of him, "Why did you even agree to this knowing it was me you're being set up with?"
The woman let out a sarcastic laugh while her hands were busy stirring her now almost empty drink, "I didn't agree, especially when I knew it was you. In fact, Eric forced me to in exchange for free lunch for a week and maybe a month if we keep this up."
Sunwoo found it very weird how his best friend was doing all this, and for what? Sure, Eric would introduce him to women, but only when they were interested or if they wanted something. But this? Emily doesn't even see Sunwoo as anything other than a mutual friend; she has other things to care about.
"Hey, Sunwoo." Emily's voice brought him back to reality, and she noticed how distracted he had become since she spoke a few minutes ago, "If you don't want to do this, you can just tell me. It's not like I really care about the free lunch anyway."
He looked up at her, surprised at how she sounded concerned for him. Maybe she does care after all. "Oh, haha. It's not that; I was just distracted-"
"Clearly."
Sunwoo laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. Emily continued to observe the man who continuously fidgeted in his seat; she wanted to ask what bothered him so much, but she didn't want to pry into his business. Suddenly, her phone buzzed from the table, and she saw Juyeon's name pop up on the screen, so she excused herself to answer the call.
"Hey, Em...please save me~." Juyeon sounded like he was hiding in the bathroom from the echo of his voice.
"What's wrong? What happened?"
"Remember the date Eric set me up with?"
"Yeah?"
"He set me up with his sister! His sister, Em! I can't believe this, I can't do this anymore." She can hear whines echoing on the other line, and Juyeon was clearly stressed about the situation.
Oh..."That's weird, why would he set his sister up with his own friend? I thought he hated that."
"Exactly!" Juyeon's voice got louder, and Emily had to move the phone away from her ear, "He even forced me to do this in exchange for food."
Emily's eyes widened at the realization, "Hold on." She looked back towards where Sunwoo sat at the table with his headphones on and a drink in hand, "I'm actually also on a date right now, but my date looks like he wants out. Wanna bring her here with us?"
And that's how you found yourself sitting beside Sunwoo with Juyeon and Emily across from you, staring at each other in awkward silence. Juyeon looked more confused than you and Sunwoo, while Emily shook her head and crossed her arms to her chest.
"Am I the only one who's aware here?" The lack of response confirmed her question. "Right, of course."
You and Sunwoo exchanged a look of confusion, shrugging your shoulders in the process. Emily sighed deeply before looking straight towards the both of you, catching you off guard. "Be honest, you two. Something happened between the two of you, no?"
She didn't miss the way your eyes widened at her question, and she smirked when she caught you right in her trap. "Knew it." It felt as if you were a deer caught in the headlights, and you could only hope that she wouldn't say a word to Eric or you'd be dead. Emily stood up from her seat, slinging her bag and brushing her hair away from her shoulders. "I think my job here is done; the same goes with my cousin. Poor thing looks like he could cry any second now." Juyeon whined, causing Emily to laugh at his reaction.
You, however, didn't know what to do, what to say, or how to act around the man beside you. Now that the two of them had left, you were again stuck in silence with the person you wanted to avoid so badly. No one spoke a word; all that was heard was soft breathing and the sound of other customers talking.
"Do you wanna go somewhere else?" Sunwoo turned to you with an empty look, "Since our dates ditched us, might as well spend the day together."
He wasn't wrong, and it wouldn't be wrong to spend the day with him after getting dressed up for a 'date' that was so painfully forced as if it would ever work out. It wouldn't. With that, you and Sunwoo spent the rest of the day at the arcade and the park, eating street foods and talking about each other's childhood memories. This went on for three more times, with Sunwoo secretly bringing you home at the end of the day instead of Juyeon. You and him made an agreement with Juyeon and Emily to pretend that the dates went well to hide from Eric the fact that you hang out Sunwoo behind his back.
As for Sunwoo, he wasn't as bad company as you thought he was going to be. He was actually pretty observant of your preferences, little habits, and how you react to certain things; he found it very intriguing and, as much as he hated to admit it, cute. You also noticed his little habits and how he always makes sure that you are walking on the inner side of the sidewalk, pushing the door for you, and insisting on paying for the food despite your constant complaints about it. Nevertheless, he was fun.
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"It didn't work out with Juyeon? Why? Did he do or say anything to you, or is it the other way around?" Eric bombarded you with questions after you mentioned to him how you stopped seeing Juyeon after the third 'date', "Tell me, y/n."
You couldn't tell him the reason why. If you did, you wouldn't see the end of his anger, and you understood why. You couldn't blame him, but he also couldn't blame you for enjoying Sunwoo's company either. What exactly could you say at this moment?
"Our personalities probably didn't match; we barely have any common interests, so it wasn't going to work out even if we tried."
"Bummer." You heard Eric humming beside you while you were busy washing the dishes at the sink, "There's probably someone else I can set you up with; maybe Younghoon? Jacob could work too."
You appreciate your brother's efforts in finding the right man for you, but the thing is, you didn't want anyone else. Your mind would always come back to the thoughts of his best friend, the man he warned you about. You only wanted him: Kim Sunwoo.
How could I want anyone else when Sunwoo treats me so well? He treats me as if I am worthy of being loved, being spoiled, and being alive.
Sunwoo brought you lots of food to your place when you told him through the phone that you hadn't had dinner yet because you got too caught up in paperwork and left a note on top of it with the words "Finish this or I won't show up ever again. Goodluck :)" written on it. You made sure nothing was left on the containers, not even a grain of rice or a single crumb.
Sunwoo also went out of his way to borrow Juyeon's car in the middle of the night to drive himself to your friend's house, where you were. You had so many drinks that night that you couldn't think straight anymore, so your friend told you to go home. Your first thought was to call Eric, but because you were too drunk to think, you decided to click on the name at the top of the screen, the most recent person you sent a message to. The person picked up the call, but you were already asleep, so your friend answered the call instead. That's why Sunwoo was there in no time.
"Sorry for the inconvenience; we couldn't stop her from drinking too much." Your friend apologized to Sunwoo while he gently carried you to the back of the car, where you could lie down.
"Don't worry about it, I'm just glad she called me."
Until one day, he changed your life. The day you realized you needed him by your side until your last breath, almost quite literally. Sunwoo was your angel, your lifesaver, and you would never let Eric take him away from you this time.
You were on your way home late at night from a friend's house, and you didn't bother calling Sunwoo because it was only a few minutes walk to your place, except he knew better than to leave you in the streets at that time, so he forced you to tell him your whereabouts. If it weren't for his persistence, he might not be able to forgive himself ever again.
He was already nearby where you were when he noticed a man in black strolling a distance behind you, his steps fastening in pace, ready to jump on you, and he was alerted to your safety. As fast as he could, he ran in your direction before the man could lay his dirty fingers on you. He grabbed your wrist without warning and quickly pulled you faster to where your place was, making you shriek in fear until you slowly calmed down when you realized it was him. Sunwoo pulled you into a tight hug the moment you two entered your house, locking the door behind him. He was so relieved you were safe.
"Sunwoo...what's wrong?"
He didn't reply; he only hugged you tighter if it was even possible. "Hey, what happened? Why were you in a rush-"
"Don't." He let out a deep breath beside your neck, causing shivers down your spine, "Just- let me stay here with you tonight." He finally pulled back to look at you straight in the eyes, and you saw a mix of worry, anger, and relief behind his gaze, "Please."
Since then, he hasn't brought that incident up because it made him mad and he didn't want to remember the day that your life was at risk. He was just glad he was there to save you, and you were still standing beside him with a smile on your face.
"I don't ever want to lose you, y/n."
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Unfortunately, Eric had other plans. "How many times do I have to tell you to stay away from Sunwoo?" He was fuming, and it made you scared, but you weren't going to give up just like that. "You cannot date him; you cannot love him."
His last words suddenly made your heart hurt. It might sound like the craziest thing if the old you said it, but you love Sunwoo. He was more than just the man you fought with at a store or the man who kissed you at a club, he was the man who made you laugh so hard until your stomach would hurt and he was the man who made you believe in love again. Eric just doesn't see that; he doesn't understand any of this. "Is that why you set me up with Juyeon, or are you trying to ruin everything for your friends?"
He walked up closer to you, but you didn't move an inch from where you stood, "Is looking out for you ruining it for my friends, y/n?"
"You didn't have to do this, Eric. You could've ve just been honest with me, and it wouldn't have to reach this point."
"Oh, and if I were honest with you, would you really stay away from him? You think I'd believe that?"
Now, you were mad. You were hurt by his lack of trust in you; your own brother doubted your honesty. And I thought he cared for me; what about my feelings? I can't hide this any longer. "So, what if I like him? Is Sunwoo really that bad? Because, as far as I know, he did nothing but treat me with respect. If you think so badly of him, why bother being friends with him then?"
"Sunwoo as a friend and Sunwoo as a lover are two different things!" He now raised his voice with every word he spoke, but you didn't budge.
"And we are different people, Eric. How sure are you that he would hurt me? You don't know him enough." He doesn't know the whole story.
Eric let out a breath of disbelief at your words. He couldn't believe what he was hearing from your mouth right now. "And you do? You know him better than I do?"
"That's not-"
"This is exactly why I don't want you near him!" You flinched at the sudden raise of his voice, and you wondered if the neighbors had heard him at how loud it was, "I don't want history to repeat itself, y/n. Can't you understand?"
You do; you know exactly what he's talking about, and you don't have the courage to fight back anymore. Eric would do anything not to let you experience the past all over again, and you get that.
So the next day, you found yourself in another argument with Sunwoo this time. You told him you'd visit him at his place, but he had no idea what your visit was for. Your back was facing him as you tried to hide the pained expression on your face; you couldn't face him properly like this.
"We can't be together, Sunwoo."
"Why? Because of Eric?" He stepped closer behind your back, "His opinion doesn't matter."
You closed your eyes to keep the frustration in, "It does, that's just how it is."
Then, silence. No one spoke a word for a few minutes—just the sound of breathing and his heart beating so loud that you hoped he couldn't hear yours. It was so painfully quiet that you wanted to turn and see his face, which admittedly calmed you down all the time, but you couldn't until he questioned you with a hushed voice.
"Why are you so mean to me? Why are you pushing me away after everything we've done together as if what we had didn't mean anything to you at all, as if I didn't matter to you."
"Please, don't say that."
"No, y/n. I want to know why you're doing this, why you're letting me go so easily-"
"Because the best way not to get your heart broken is to pretend you don't have one!" You finally turned to him, losing your composure as you let out all your frustration into your words, "Yet, here I am." You caught the way his eyes stared into yours with shock, curiosity, and worry, and you were afraid he would see right through it, so you quickly averted your gaze away from his.
To your surprise, he brought your chin up with his thumb and index finger to meet your eyes again. He didn't want to step boundaries, no. But the way you said those words with hidden anger and pain made him feel protective of you. He wanted to change your perception of love the way you did with his; he wanted to be the man who would treat you the way you deserve to be treated: with the utmost care, love, and respect. He never knew what genuine love felt like until he knew the real you.
In the most careful way possible, he asked, "Did someone hurt you before?"
His question brought back memories of your past—the past where your abusive ex-lover was still in your life. It triggered memories of your ex treating you so badly in any way he could: ignoring you when you drove hours just to see him, talking badly about you to his friends even when you were in the same room, blaming you when minor inconveniences happened that were caused by other people, and the worst one, slapping you on the cheek when you accidentally broke one of his figurine collections. Even though you were willing to replace it with the exact same figurine from the same store, he didn't have plans on forgiving you that easily. His temper became shorter, he got more aggressive, and it actually got so bad that Eric had to intervene by beating the hell out of your worthless ex and telling him off. Eric made sure that man wouldn't step a single inch near your place and lay a single finger on you ever again. That's exactly why Eric did all this—to keep you safe. He couldn't trust anyone to be near you anymore, not even his own best friend.
"What a douchebag. If I were Eric, I would've made sure your ex wouldn't ever lay a finger on you because he'll end up without any."
As much as you wanted to smile at the thought of him being very protective, like Eric was with you, you couldn't help but ask him a question that always bothered you whenever you and Eric would argue about this. "Aren't you also like that...?"
Your question left him speechless, and he felt his heart shatter at your lack of trust with him the same way you felt with Eric. He wanted to ask if you ever doubted his love for you, his actions, or his words. "And who the hell told you that? Who told you such a lie, y/n?"
"Ah...well, it's not exactly like that-"
"No." Sunwoo's voice raised in anger, "I need you to tell me right now who told you that bullshit because I am nowhere near your asshole of an ex; I will never be that toxic and abusive." He brought a finger to his chest harshly, "I may look like this and act like this, but I would never ever hurt any woman like that...especially not the woman I love. I know I tease you here and there, but I have never intended to touch you or hurt you in any way, you understand?"
"Sunwoo..."
Sunwoo let out a loud huff at the realization of the situation, resting both his hands on his hips. "If that's the reason why Eric did all that, then we have a problem here. The problem isn't us having feelings for each other; the problem is him not trusting me as a friend, and he even made assumptions about me. How does that make me feel?" He took a deep breath to calm himself down before he lost his mind, so he continued to speak in a softer voice this time. "When I love someone, I would never betray them. Yes, I had my share of questionable experiences, but the point is, he probably doesn't know me enough to say that about me."
That's what you told Eric too.
Sunwoo then turned to you, gently taking a hold of your hands and bringing them to his chest. "If you were to give me a chance, y/n, I can promise you that you will never experience pain, not even a scratch. What do you say?"
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"Where is the idiot, anyway?" Entering Eric's house, you stood in his living room with full determination.
"I'm right here." You turned to find Sunwoo standing awkwardly behind you with his hands behind his back.
You gave him a reassuring smile, "Suprisingly enough, I'm not talking about you this time."
Footsteps were heard from the stairs, and there, Eric stood in confusion at the sight of you and Sunwoo beside each other, too closely for his liking. He looked at the two of you suspiciously as he asked, "Where were you and why are you with him?"
Sunwoo was about to speak up to explain on behalf of you, but you didn't give him the chance. "If I say that he's my boyfriend, are you going to tell us to break up?"
Sunwoo almost choked on his saliva while Eric's eyes widened in shock, and the two stared at you with silent questions, but you only nudged at Sunwoo to play along, which he immediately understood. However, Eric was not here to joke around. No, not at all. It was serious for him.
"Have you not learned anything?" Eric moved slowly closer to you.
"We talked it out last night." And a few confessions too... and maybe a few kisses.
Eric tittered, his gaze landing on Sunwoo, then towards your direction. "Oh, so that's where you were last night?"
"We didn't do anything bad, Eric, if that's what you're worried about. We just talked, and even if we argue sometimes, I trust Sunwoo; you have to understand that."
It took Eric a few seconds to process your words, and you gave him the time he needed. Eric's eyes shifted between you and Sunwoo, sighing to himself afterwards. "Do you...really love each other?"
"Yes." You and Sunwoo quickly turned to each other after saying the same thing at the same time, but Sunwoo broke the moment to continue his words.
"I would never hurt your sister in any way, Eric. Why don't you trust me?"
Eric quirked an eyebrow in his direction, "You really want me to answer that question?"
Sunwoo pursed his lips from that, but he continued to defend his side; he had to defend you and everything between you two. "No, but y/n is different. She makes me feel so comfortable, and hurting her would be the last thing I'd do. She's your sister; I don't want to lose you too."
That last sentence struck a part of Eric's heart, and memories of their friendship together ran through his head. From the first day they met at a dance school to the fights they saved each other from, every ups and downs they experienced together, yet here they still were. Sunwoo wouldn't want their 10 years of friendship to end because his best friend didn't trust him enough to date his sister, and Eric wouldn't want their friendship to end either, just because he wanted to protect you. Well, it was his fault. Eric knew that, but maybe he was still so furious about what you went through in the past that he wanted to beat up every man that tried to get with you, even if it was his best friend.
"Okay, fine." Eric finally replied after he thought about everything and realized that the two people in front of him, confronting him to defend their love for each other, knew what they were doing and the consequences that came with it. At the end of the day, you still make the decisions for yourself, and he was only your brother who would be there to protect you, not decide for you. "I won't intervene anymore, but if you hurt her even with a scratch, I swear, Sunwoo, I will make sure you experience worse. Got it?"
"Got it!" Sunwoo answered too quickly and enthusiastically to everyone's surprise, but you understood why, "But, where's my apology?"
"No apologies! Now, leave me alone." Eric waved you and Sunwoo away as he turned to leave the room, heading back upstairs to his bedroom, where he came from earlier before you broke into his house.
You can hear Sunwoo's breath of relief from beside you, so you slowly held his hand and intertwined your fingers with his in reassurance to let him know that you were equally as relieved as he was. The warm smile on your face brought a much bigger smile to his. He hasn't felt this happy and proud of himself until today, and he was grateful he felt it with you and because of you. It would've sounded too cheesy and annoying to Sunwoo's liking, but when he was the one experiencing this kind of emotion, all that cheesiness wouldn't even matter at all because it felt too good. Love felt so exciting to him.
"From now on, I hope the only thing we would fight over would be for a bottle of champagne."
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124 notes · View notes
halaboyz · 3 months
Text
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backburner, sunwoo
the boyz sunwoo x gn! reader angst wc: 2k warnings: drinking a/n: ...hello
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One, two, three.
One, two, three.
One, two, three.
You don't know when you started counting, but it felt like it's only been a day.
It's been weeks.
It's been weeks- two, to be specific, when he last messaged you. Not that it matters; you only wanted to know whether he's dead or alive.
Right?
That's how it has always been.
"Can you..." Sua begrudgingly turns your phone facing the table, incoherently swearing, "...please stop looking at your phone?! It's been weeks, for heaven's sake!"
"Sorry." And it's been a waterfall of apologies for your friend. "I'm just worried."
"That's the problem! You're always worried about him, but the fuck does he even do for you?" Sua sighs, getting ready for the hundredth talk about your situationship. "He messages you when it's convenient for him. Meanwhile you, you're ready to drop even the biggest things just for him! Is a screw gone loose in your head?"
"Sua, I know. Believe me... I know. I just... I don't know." You could only sigh back, not having any words to explain the right feeling. But you swore you know, you just don't know how to explain it.
"The fuck are you saying? Hey, look. I'm sorry for the choice of words but... aren't you a bit sorry for yourself? One, you missed a project deadline because he wanted you to pick him up from a bar because he was dead drunk, what is he, a kid? Two, you missed four plates from, let me emphasize, one subject- a major one that is! Just because he was crying and only wanted you to have to talk some sense to him, about another person! And three, and I hope it is the last, you managed to fail a minor subject because you didn't get to pass the only activity you've been nonstop doing for weeks, just because when the day of the deadline hit, your Sunwoo was borderline dead because of his flu. Again, what is he, a kid?!"
Sua was indeed fuming. Besides the fact that she just rambled, she was red in anger. Yet you stayed quiet because... she was right.
Nothing she said was wrong, everything she said was on point.
Yet why... why does it feel like you can and will do it all over again, when it came to Sunwoo?
While you calmed her down with a stroke in the hand, mumbling continuous apologies, you bring her a glass of water and assist her to the bed.
"I get it, I get it. Come on, it's our pajama night in months, let's just not talk about it." You coo, trying to get her back to her good mood.
Well, not until your phone vibrated.
You jumped off the bed in a flash, checking your phone.
sw: asjkdlalkklj
The single message was all it took before you rang his phone, took your coat and wore your running shoes, shouting an apology to your friend and getting your keys in an instant.
"Hello?" An unfamiliar voice picks the phone up, "This is the bar's manager. We've only got to open his phone right now, but it has been an hour since we've been trying to get mister to go home. We're letting this off the hook since he's a regular." The manager doesn't even give you a second before he drops the bar's details, and hanging up the phone.
You sigh, starting your car's engines and chuckling when you see Sua peeking out of your window and throwing you a middle finger, before you drove off.
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You immediately, shamefully bow your head to apologize at the staff while you scram your way to Sunwoo, who had his head down at the counter and lips smacking continuously as if still savoring the bitter taste of the alcohol he had just been drinking.
You sigh, it all felt like deja vu.
"Sunwoo." You shake his shoulders, careful not too much in case he vomits on your car like the first time. "Come on, I'll get you home. I just need you to wake up for a minute."
"No!" He swats your hand away with his eyes closed, facing the other way. "Not going... until y/n's here..."
You sigh again. You thought, is it even going to be the same person you're finding when you're sober?
Swallowing the lump on your throat, you ease up a smile and lower your back to his level.
"I'm here. It's y/n." You pat his back and he gets his one eye open to peek at you. He inevitably bursts into the biggest smile and jumps at you.
"It's y/n! y/n is here!" He sing-sang and you finally get ahold of him, bowing once again for the man as you assist him back to your car. "I missed you."
Sure he did. When he's drunk.
"Sunwoo, here, drink some water first." You hand him a newly opened bottle of water, tugging on his jacket as he tightly hugs the seatbelt.
"I don't want to," He whines, keeping his arms away from you.
"Please?" With a coo, Sunwoo finally takes the bottle and gulps it at once, giving you the empty bottle back as he succumbs to the warmth of your carseat.
You sigh. Again. The things you're willing to do for a man who only needs you.
Sunwoo stirs on his sit, eyes squinting everywhere.
"Sober?" You put your phone back to your pocket after writing Sua a long paragraph apologizing.
"Oh, y/n." He giggles, moving in his seat to face you. "Hi."
"Can I drive now? I don't want you vomiting all over the place because of your motion sickness."
"How long have you been waiting?" You hand him another bottle of water, finally starting the engine.
"Almost an hour."
"That long? I'm sorry," Sunwoo coos, reaching for your resting arm. He caresses it sweetly and you don't give an effort to avoid it. "How's my y/n been doing?"
"Bad. I've been missing you." You reply with no hesitation, eyes not leaving the road. You've always been this honest with him, it wasn't something new you spoke your feelings.
"Oh. Sorry about that. Just busy," Sunwoo gives you a small smile, retracting his warm hand. It didn't make sense that every time Sunwoo made an excuse of ghosting you, you still believe him.
Why?
Because the moment he gets drunk, he thinks of you.
At least, he thinks of you.
"Can I stay at yours for the night? I don't feel like staying alone tonight." Sunwoo changes the topic while you stop at a red light, raising your brows at him. "Please?" His playful whine makes you chuckle, giving in.
Times like this he didn't need to give you an explanation.
No- actually, if it came to Sunwoo, you didn't need anything. Explanation, excuses, reasons, anything. If it was Sunwoo, you'd drop everything for him.
Because who were you kidding? This is Sunwoo we're talking about.
"Hey, we're here." You shake his shoulder lightly after turning the engine off, smiling at him. "Can you walk?"
"Of course, you're talking to Sunwoo." He chuckles, removing the seatbelt.
He can't. He was too drowsy to eve take a step out. So you had to assist him by the arm until you're inside the flat, making him lay on the bed.
You prepare a warm water and a towel to wipe Sunwoo's face when you notice a note stuck by the magnet on the refrigerator, written by your lovely friend.
Next time I see you get ready for an ice cold bath from yours truly, in hopes of trying to get you in touch with reality.
PS: schedule another pajama night or you're dead !!!
You chuckle as you hide the note behind another bigger note, getting what you came for in the kitchen and another glass of water and his medicine to take when he wakes up.
You gently place the warm-wet towel on his forehead, waiting for any reaction to get nothing so you continue to wipe his face, and next his hands.
When you were done, getting up from beside him, you felt him swiftly tug your middle finger.
"You're going to sleep beside me, right?"
"Huh?" Sunwoo's eyes open for a second and close again, as if only to confirm it was you beside him.
"Your curtain's scary. Please sleep beside me. The couch is uncomfortable to sleep on, too."
"I sleep there all the time, Sunwoo. It's fine,"
"Not you. Me. You're not letting me sleep there, and I'm not letting you sleep there. So let's stay here together." Sunwoo's nonchalance is breaking you to pieces.
If it wasn't the nth time did this to you, you yourself know that if it was the past you, you would be feeling all over the place and giddy, above all that.
But no. This time around, it was breaking you to pieces.
Because this time, realizations come to mind.
Like how it wasn't all a big deal for him. This. All of this. Like it was all normal between... friends. Or are you even friends? Borderline lovers?
Whatever you two are- it was clear. He didn't feel the same way you do. He doesn't look at you the same way you do.
"Okay." But you're fine with it. "I will." You will always be fine with it.
And that's the problem with you.
When it came to Sunwoo, you will always fold.
"Okay. Let me get some sleep first okay? Make sure you come sleep beside me!" He giddily makes himself comfortable inside the blanket, going to dreamland with a smile.
Leaving you with a forced one.
You only sigh as you clean yourself up, washing your face with cold water and looking at yourself in the mirror. "You're pathetic." You whisper, feeling disappointed of yourself.
The people around you took good care of you fondly up until now, and you let yourself be pathetic over one guy who only contacts you when it's convenient for him? You remember Sua's words perfectly, because that's where it hit home.
You grew up with so much love and care, yet you fail to see your worth over one guy.
You heave another heavy sigh, opening your eyes to trace Sunwoo's facial features with your eyes.
"How come it had to be you?" You whisper, stopping your tears before it even dropped.
And just like that, the night continued.
Sunwoo wakes up at around 6 in the morning because of his phone continuously vibrating inside his jacket, grabbing it with his free hand to take the call.
Before he answers, he takes a good look at you and chucked. Sunwoo ended up hogging the whole blanket (you rather gave everything to him) so you were snuggling beside him, making his other arm your personal pillow.
He carefully places you down to the pillow and covers you with a blanket, letting the ring end and going outside the bedroom to call back.
After the phone call, he sneaks back in the bedroom to see you soundly sleeping, taking his things and leaving a note on your bedside table.
He takes a while as he stares at you, giving you a small smile.
He knows what he's done, what he's been doing- yet he can't stop. He loves the thrill, he loves the feeling that someone is willing to do everything for him. That's it.
But that doesn't mean he didn't feel sorry for you, for what he has been doing with you. And it doesn't mean he doesn't feel sorry that he can't return your feelings.
He knows, of course. Only a rock wouldn't know how you felt towards him.
"I'm sorry this time too, y/n." He caresses your cheeks before leaving, making sure to lock your door.
After a few minutes, you sniff your tears away right in the morning.
"Sorry, huh." You chuckle bittersweetly, looking at the note he left for you.
I'm going out with Chanyi today, she asked me to breakfast! Thank you y/n, sorry I had to leave early, you were sleeping cutely~
I'll contact you!
And with that, your getaway was done.
Your bed was left empty, your apartment empty,
and you, empty.
But you knew you'd do it all over again.
74 notes · View notes
wavesmp3 · 3 months
Text
[ksw] ode to you
inspired by 'daisy jones and the six'
kim sunwoo x reader (gn) wc: 10k warnings: cursing, heavy alcohol usage and often in an unhealthy way, one mention of blood (a terrible case of largely irrelevant side characters, an attempt at writing song lyrics, switching pov’s without any real indication, story existing in a vacuum of time and space loosely based off of 70s usa)
synopsis → The Numbers are a band well on their way to commercial success with Sunwoo as the dreamy front man, Changmin on drums, Jacob on guitar, Juyeon on bass, and Kevin on keys. But all that changes the second you step into the studio to record “Begin Again” with them. The song is an instant hit, launching you from a singer-songwriter nobody to the biggest new name in music and catapulting the Numbers into a larger limelight than they’ve ever been in before. So with the entire country singing your song, the pressure is on for you and the Numbers to create an entire album that lives up to their expectations. But while pressure builds, something akin to feelings for the front man builds with it.
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You go to knock again on the door, heavy footsteps and heavier breaths, but just as soon as your knuckles make contact with the heavy wood, the door swings open. 
Chanhee looks disappointed. “You were going to knock again, weren’t you?”
You roll your eyes, pushing him aside and going straight for the marble bar cart you know sits in the sitting room off the formal dining area. 
“You know you really have to work on your patience.” He says to you from the foyer, voice already sounding a bit far away. You always forget how big acclaimed-music-producer Chanhee's house is. Although, you think, staring at the array of top shelf liquor arranged neatly on the bar cart, mansion is probably a more apt word for it. 
You pour yourself a glass of whiskey. 
Chanhee joins you in the room once you’ve already taken a seat in one of the brown leather arm chairs. 
“How many glasses is that?”
You scoff. “I have a show at the Roxy after this.”
He hums, flicking the square paper in his hand. 
You sit up slightly. “What is that?” Chanhee takes the paper over to the record player in the opposite corner of the room. He slips a clean black record out of the manilla slip and carefully places it into position. It doesn’t take long for the gentle hum of the record spinning around the platter to fill the room. 
God, I love music. You think to yourself sitting back slightly in the armchair and allowing your eyes to shut. 
“I want you to listen to this.” You hear Chanhee say, followed by the small pop of the decanter being opened and the quiet trickle and crack of liquor falling over ice. The sound of a bass overtakes the room. It’s somehow… gentle. 
“Who’s it by?”
Chanhee doesn’t answer at first. You hear him sit down in the armchair next to yours while drums fill in the spaces of the songs and a guitar starts to hum along. And the sound that comes from the record player next–in all honesty, you don’t think Chanhee could have prepared you for. It’s a man’s voice, polished, in a way that you just know he’s been doing this for a while. His whole life maybe. There’s this rough, almost growly quality that amps the song up even more, and yet, simultaneously, his voice glides over the lyrics like honey spilling over the side of its jar. There’s so much depth in every note he hits. You don’t know if you’ve ever heard a voice–a sound–quite like this. 
“Who is this?” You ask again once the first chorus comes to a close, opening your eyes and taking a proper look at Chanhee. He looks mildly amused.
“Have you heard of the Numbers?”
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Sunwoo hurries into the studio from the car, guitar in one hand and lyrics in the other, fully expecting to get chewed out by his producer. “Chanhee, I’m so sorry. There was tra-”
Sunwoo stops in his tracks. The control room is empty. He steps back into the doorway and rereads the signage. He has the right room, so then… where is everybody?
“Sunwoo,” he hears a voice call for him from the recording stage. It’s Changmin, waving him inside and pointing at you. You smile at him, give him a nod of sorts. His eyes dart to Chanhee, giving him a look that says, who the fuck is that? 
He walks into the recording booth hesitantly. 
“Hey.” Chanhee says casually. “I don’t think you guys have met yet.” 
You stand and approach him, sticking out your hand. Sunwoo just looks at it. 
“The label thinks you guys would sound good on one track and want you to try recording ‘Begin Again’ together.” 
He ignores your outstretched hand and looks straight at Chanhee. “Can we speak privately?”
Sunwoo had assumed he’d be the one getting chewed out in the studio today. Oh, how things have changed. He’s worked so hard on this song. More time and effort than he’s ever put in any of the band’s songs that came out before it. He can’t believe Chanhee would allow anyone else to try and taint it. “Begin Again” is his song. And he’ll be damned if he’s not the only one singing it. 
Sunwoo’s ready to say all of this, but, “Before you say anything,” Chanhee doesn’t even let him speak, “I know how you feel about this. But the decision came from above me, okay. The Number’s last album didn’t do as well as the label hoped. They think another voice in the band could shake things up. And who knows, “Chanhee continues with a shrug that only makes Sunwoo fume more, “maybe this could be what you guys have been missing.”
Sunwoo cannot believe what he’s hearing. “We aren’t missing anything.” 
“Don’t be dense.” Chanhee pans with a sideways stare. “I know you guys are good. I know you guys are gonna be big, but the rest of the world needs some convincing. Just try this, okay? This could be it.”
Sunwoo just shakes his head. 
“I scouted them out myself. They’re a good singer and even better writer-”
“Writer?” Sunwoo nearly screams, arms flying to point at you through the control room window where the two boys are talking. “You want them to write on the song too?”
“They have a couple of…” Chanhee sighs, choosing his next word with extra precaution, “revisions.”
“Fuck that, Chanhee. I wrote a great song. It–”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“You wrote a good song.” Chanhee refutes, matter-of-factly. “You wrote a good song, and they,” he points at you, “they made it a great one.” 
Sunwoo is speechless. 
“Here.” Chanhee pushes a piece of torn notebook paper into his hands. 
If Sunwoo wasn’t so aware of the line Chanhee was drawing, he would’ve pushed harder, but at the end of the day, Chanhee is his boss and his lifeline in this business. If Chanhee says so, really says so, then there’s not much Sunwoo can do to fight it. Sunwoo is stubborn, but he’s not a fool looking to waste his own breath. He looks back into the recording stage. The band looks happy chatting to each other. And you, well, you’re staring at him.
A red light flashes on the sound board beneath him. “Talk over the changes.” Chanhee says to the band and you through the intercom. “We record in ten minutes.”
— 
“It’s nice to meet you,” you say to Sunwoo sitting on the stool in front of the second mic. Sunwoo’s never even seen a studio setup with two mics before. He swallows a scoff. “Chanhee showed me the song the other day, and your voice it—“ 
“What does this line mean?” Sunwoo cuts in, taking his seat on the stool next to yours. “I changed my heart. I morphed my mind. You don’t have the right to tell me I didn’t try.” 
Your face drops immediately. “Are you serious?” 
Sunwoo raises a brow–a challenge.
You let out a breath of pure disbelief, focusing your gaze just above his head, and hands starting to make motions in the air. “It’s about changing yourself to be with someone. It’s about them never acknowledging that.”
“That’s not what this song is about.”
You give him a pointed look. “What do you think the song is about?”
It’s his turn for the disbelief. “What do I think the song I wrote is about?” You don’t falter, not even for a second. Sunwoo grasps at the words, mouth agape. “It’s about redemption.”
“That’s too easy.”
“How is that too easy?”
“Look,” you huff, mouth opening and closing like you can’t decide what it is you want to say. You end up reaching your arm out, palm open like you want a fucking hi-five or something. In the back of his mind, Sunwoo wonders if you’re still waiting for the handshake he never gave. “Give me your original lyrics.”
He does, you snatch the paper keeping your eyes on him for a second too long before finding whatever it was that you were looking for. “Right here,” you say, finger pointing at the tattered paper and eyes darting back and forth between him and his lyrics. Your face lights up. You look like you're holding back a smile. You look… excited. “Here, in the bridge you wrote: take me home, welcome me on those familiar roads, embrace me in your arms, oh please, tell me I still belong.”
“What about it?” Sunwoo asks, almost forgetting that he’s upset at Chanhee for this whole arrangement, nearly forgetting that he’s supposed to not be accepting any of your revisions because for the first time in so long, he’s able to really talk to someone about his lyrics. 
You look up at him fully, and almost sadly, you say, “You really don’t get it, do you?” Sunwoo looks down at the lyrics you gave him, scanning them again. Funnily enough, that line is the only one of his you’ve kept. 
“The song’s not about redemption,” you tell him. “It’s about guilt.”
Sunwoo, you, and the band end up recording your version of the song. It’s a good song. It’s still his melody, his hook, and his bridge, but almost none of the lyrics are his. Just like that, “Begin Again” becomes as much your song as it is his. If he wasn’t so angry at Chanhee, maybe he would’ve had the mind to notice how good you sound singing it.
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Kim Sunwoo is an asshole. 
That you learned in the recording studio with him and haven’t been able to get out of your head since. Unfortunately, he’s got one hell of a voice and gift for creating a good melody. And him and Chanhee together in the studio, god, they’re magic. You went out and purchased The Number’s previous record after you recorded “Begin Again”. You haven’t stopped listening to it since. 
It’s one day when you’re working a shift at the diner that you start humming the song playing over the speaker while grabbing an order from the kitchen. You don’t even think twice about it. That is until you make it right in front of the table whose orders you’re holding and start to hear your own voice.
You nearly drop the four plates of burgers.
You rush over to the jukebox, not believing your ears, not believing that your voice, your words, your song is playing for the entire diner to hear. 
And there, right at the bottom it reads: “Begin Again” by the Numbers ft. you
“Holy shit.”
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The desert wasn’t too far from home, but it could not have been more different. There was so much nothing for as far as your eyes could see. There was dust everywhere, all over the place, sifting up through the air and in your lungs. How are you supposed to sing like this?
You hear the bands’ voices come up from behind you. 
“Hey,” Sunwoo says, coming up next to you and resting an arm on the same wood railing as you. “How are you feeling?”
“Great.” You answer truthfully. You could barely believe it when you got the call from Chanhee saying that they wanted you to play the festival along with the Numbers. Although, considering that your song is playing on every radio station, it probably shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was. 
The crowd roars as the previous artist says his goodbye. 
“Have you ever played for a crowd like this?”
“Nope.”
He nods slowly. “It’s a lot. The first time especially, for sure. But just go with it, and uh,” he smiles, towards the ground, “it’s a lot of fun once you get past the nerves of it all.”
You look at him, battling against the grimace forming on your face. “Is this pep talk for me or for you? Cause I’m fine.”
His smile disappears when he sees your face. You must’ve lost the battle. 
He inhales sharply. “‘Begin Again’ is last. Come out after I introduce you.”
You nod, and he joins the rest of his band. 
The crowd cheers when they get on stage. The first song starts with a familiar guitar riff and the pound of the drums, followed by the crowd going ballistic. You’ve been playing on stage for a while now, but only ever in small clubs with small crowds. You’ve never seen a crowd like this, and it makes you ecstatic. 
You hear Sunwoo sing the final words of the song and Kevin play the final chords. And you don’t know if its the crowd or the shot of vodka you took during the bridge or the fucking look Sunwoo gives you, but something, something, makes you forget what Sunwoo said about waiting and walk right onto that stage. 
Jacob and Juyeon look confused. Sunwoo looks vaguely pissed. Kevin and Changmin barely notice. But you don’t register any of that. All you can think as you walk onto that stage, grin flashing and arms up in the air is: this crowd was fucking waiting for me. 
You step up to your mic and wait until the crowd quiets down. You introduce “Begin Again” as a song you wrote. The crowd erupts. You look over at Sunwoo, smiling, no–grinning, loving how annoyed he looks. Juyeon doesn’t miss a beat, starting the song immediately. Your body moves on its own, dancing to the song, belting out each note, and loving every second of it. It’s sometime during the second verse, the one Sunwoo sings alone, that you notice how entranced he is. His eyes are half closed, and his fingers fly across his guitar like he’s not even thinking about it. He smiles at the crowd. You think you hear someone faint. He looks your way then, right before the pre-chorus, smiling still as if he wasn’t just glaring at you. It hits you almost instantly: nothing else matters to him right now. He’s in it, like really in it, and the only thing he seems to care about is putting on a good show. He’s loving this as much as you are, and maybe that’s enough to prove that you and Kim Sunwoo are more alike than either of you think. 
You leave your mic stand and start dancing towards him. His entire body turns towards you, waiting for you, his eyes following. You meet right in front of his mic just as the chorus begins. And you’re left with no choice but to stand next to him, singing into the same mic with your faces so close you can feel every ragged breath he takes, see the sweat rolling off his hair, and hear the blood pumping through his veins. Take me home. You both sing with your entire chest. Welcome me on those familiar roads. You see him turn his head to face you. You mirror the motion, and sing the next line looking right into his eyes. Embrace me in your arms. Have his eyes always been this big? Oh please, tell me I still belong. And of course it’s this line you’re singing to each other like this. Of course it’s the one line in the entire song that you didn’t actually write and the one line he did. 
The chorus ends, and you slowly back away from his mic and move back towards yours. He rips away on his guitar, fingers still flying like it’s the easiest thing, all while never taking his eyes off you. Staring at you like he found something. Staring at you like it’s only you and him on that stage. 
You don’t even remember the song ending. 
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Music flows through Northside Tavern. A jazz band is playing today, and the piano player keeps making eyes at you. 
“I heard the show over the weekend went well.” Chanhee says into your ear. You just nod. “And that the label really liked what you did with the song.”
You laugh. “Not just the label. The whole country liked it.” You give one last look to the pianist, before turning to Chanhee fully. “I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but I have a number one single.”
You head over to the bar and ask for an old-fashioned. 
“Not just you.” Chanhee yells behind you to be heard over the cheers after the band’s last song. 
You pivot. “Excuse me?” 
“It wasn’t just you.” Chanhee flags down the bartender, orders a scotch, neat. “It was the Numbers too.” 
The bartender slides over three drinks. 
You lean in over the counter. “We only ordered two.” 
Wordlessly, the bartender points to the other side of the bar. The piano player holds up their drink. Chanhee grabs his drink, and you grab the remaining two. You lift them both up towards the pianist who gives you a rather charming smile, and then take a simultaneous sip from the straws of both drinks. You taste your old-fashioned and what seems to be a margarita. 
You and Chanhee make your way over to a booth. 
“What I wanted to say,” Chanhee continues, “is that the label likes you with the band, and they want you to make an album with them.”
“An album?” You suck in your bottom lip, feeling a sudden rush from all the alcohol. An album is exactly what you’ve been pushing and working so damn hard for. So then why does this feel bittersweet?
“I think this is going to be a good thing.” Chanhee tells you sincerely, eyes softening. “You and Sunwoo…” he hesitates for a moment. You hate when he chooses his words like this, picking out the bad ones and testing out all the others. But perhaps you only hate it so much because you lack the ability to do it yourself. “You guys work.”
You take another long double sip of your drinks, squinting at Chanhee skeptically. “What did Sunwoo say?”
Chanhee’s mouth parts. There. There it fucking is. Running your tongue over your top set of teeth, you say, “you haven’t asked him yet, have you?”
“No, we haven’t asked him yet–”
“I can’t believe this.”
“–but the rest of the band is already on board, and we all thought it’d be smarter if you agreed before we asked him.”
You tilt your head slightly. You thought Chanhee knew you better than this. “I’m not saying anything until he does.”
“Be honest with yourself here,” Chanhee says seriously, pushing his drink to the side and leaning forward, “it’s no secret that you and Sunwoo don’t get along. And I get it; I really do. But I know you see it.”
You cross your arms over your chest. “See what?”
“Most people in this business spend their entire lives looking for what he and you found during the ‘Begin Again’ sessions and again on the stage at the festival. And most people fail. Don’t throw that away over whatever bullshit he gave you when you first met. Don’t throw away the chance you’ve been waiting for because of that. You guys belong together. Focus on that.”
You don’t say anything after Chanhee finishes his little speech. Instead you reach for your drinks and finish them both in one long, prolonged sip. You ignore his annoyed ‘tsk’. 
Putting the empty glasses down and to the side, you nod up at him, pursing your lips. “Are you done?”
He takes a long, final swig of his drink. “Yes.”
“Ask Sunwoo first.” You pull out your wallet and drop a couple bills on the table. “Then, you can call me.”
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Today is already off to a bad start. 
Sunwoo had come into the studio ready to record and knock out at least 2 or 3 songs off the album today, but then Juyeon wanted to talk about the album’s direction and Changmin wanted to request everyone to add as many drum parts as possible. 
And it’s as he’s listening to Kevin and Changmin argue about the addition of piano solos, that you walk into the studio. 
Chanhee welcomes you with a hug. Eric, the sound engineer, offers to make you tea. Meanwhile, Sunwoo can’t understand why you deserve any kindness at this moment. Your session started an hour ago. 
“You’re late.” Sunwoo says, bringing the rest of the band to notice your arrival. 
You look at him with a smile, gesturing to the two boys who were just arguing. “Doesn’t really look like I missed anything.”
“We were talking about the album’s direction.” Juyeon says from behind Sunwoo. 
You nod, putting down your stuff and taking a seat. “Okay, shoot.”
Sunwoo puts his hands up. “Well since we’re talking about it. I’ve been working on a couple songs, and,” he hesitates, pulling out a couple sheets of paper that Chanhee helped him print and handing them out, “I think I might have something good that we can build the rest of the album off of.”
Everyone takes a moment to read. Sunwoo watches the room carefully. Jacob clears his throat. Kevin plays a loose note. 
Your voice is the first that comes out of the silence. “Are you serious?”
He whips his head around. “What?”
“‘Will you still love me when I’m old? Will you still love me when I’m proud.’” You read aloud, before shoving the paper back towards him, that mocking smile still plastered on your face. “I’m not singing that.”
He scoffs, tongue swiping at his lips. “Why not? They’re good songs.”
You shrug. “They’re cheesy.”
“You haven't even read the whole thing.”
“I’ve read enough.”
“Are–are you… is this–I mean, like, you…” Sunwoo only knows one thing for sure right now: you might be the most insufferable person he’s ever met. “Chanhee!” 
“Okay, you know what,” Chanhee’s voice comes through the intercom. You both turn towards it. “How about you two go home and figure out some way to work together instead of wasting my studio time. Write one song, just one, together, and the rest of us can go from there tomorrow.”
He slips a curse between a breath. 
“Okay?”
You and Sunwoo look back at each other. It’s you who speaks first this time. “That’s fine with me.”
It’s a nice day out today. The sun shines through big clouds. There’s a nice breeze, and the roadways are empty. You’re sitting in the passenger seat humming something he can’t hear over the wind while Sunwoo drives. In all honesty, he doesn’t even know where he’s heading, but it might be the first time he's felt some semblance of peace with you around. 
The announcer on the radio station introduces the next song. Sunwoo turns it up and sings alongside Kim Younghoon’s voice. You stop humming.
“You like this song?” You ask. 
He quickly glances at you. “Yeah, who doesn’t.” The song was insanely popular a year or two ago. If you didn’t like it at first, you heard it enough on the radio and in every store until you did. Although, it doesn’t actually take anyone very many listens to fall in love with it. Unfortunately, the rest of Kim Younghoon’s songs never quite lived up to this one. 
“I wrote this song.” You say to him, as if it’s the most simple thing. 
“Oh, really?” Sunwoo replies with a chuckle. “You worked with Kim Younghoon?”
“Well, not all of it, but the melody and most of the lyrics, yes.” You tell him seriously, like you haven’t even registered that he thought you were joking. “I mean, worked is a strong word, but we did date for a bit.”
 Sunwoo stops at a red light and spends it staring you in disbelief. 
“Come on,” you say after a moment, “you really think Kim Younghoon wrote this song?” 
Sunwoo listens to it again: They could never get it out of their heads. Like a scene on repeat. Like a mountain falling. Something unforgettable, but forgotten still. Something like you. Someone like me. 
And instantly, it clicks–of course you wrote this song. Of course it’s the case that Kim Younghoon’s best song and one of Sunwoo’s favorites was written by none other than you. 
He looks over at you while at another light. Your head leans back against the car seat, and your arm hangs over the edge of the open window. You don’t look like you’re enjoying listening to the song even if you are the one that wrote it. In fact, you look mildly annoyed, nose scrunched while inspecting your nail beds, teeth grinding. 
Sunwoo changes the station thinking: why’d you let him take it?
Before he can really think about it any further, you sit up in your seat and point at the next light. 
“Turn right up there. I know a place.”
— 
When you had said that you knew a place, Sunwoo imagined that it’d be a coffee shop or an empty bar or anything other than the middle of the woods sitting on the rocks along a stream. 
Although, he must give you credit: the setting you’ve taken him to is beautiful. There are birds humming and life strumming all around you. The water is a blistering blue that glistens and shines in the sunlight streaming through the trees like a million coins falling from the sky. The water has a small current running through it, and it beats against the rocks lightly, like the lightest, most gentle drum beat. The breeze is nice and cool on Sunwoo’s skin, sifting through his hair and past his limbs. And maybe the best part is how all around him, on every single side, he’s surrounded by green. 
It would have been perfect, if not for the fact that you and him have been here for two hours and still have absolutely nothing. 
“Okay,” you relent, after he turns down another one of your ideas for a song, “how about this melody?”
You start humming one of the worst melodies Sunwoo’s ever heard in his life.
“Absolutely not.”
You grunt frustrated, arms falling through the air. Your head follows suit, settling in your hands, face buried from his view. 
“Why’d you even say yes to this?” You snap, looking up at him after a moment, brows furrowed and hands gesturing vaguely in the air. “If you have no intention of taking any idea I give you seriously, why did you say yes to this?”
“I didn’t.” Sunwoo reminds you. “Neither of us did. Chanhee kicked us out of the studio.”
“I don’t mean that.” You flare. “I mean letting me in to do this album with the Numbers. Why’d you agree to it?”
There’s a change in the wind. A sudden quietness that must be attributed to some insect dying. Sunwoo hadn’t expected you to ask this. He hadn’t even expected you to think it. 
“It wasn’t…” he starts, looking for the words in the space between you and him. He looks up at you, hoping to find them there. Instead he finds hope in them. 
Sunwoo has been in this exact spot before–sitting in front of someone that wants to believe in him and is asking him to give them a reason. He’s seen this before, and he has no interest in repeating his past mistakes. He sees no need to add you to the list of people he’s disappointed. With a short laugh, he says, “You know what, let’s just get back to writing.”
“Fuck that.”  You respond immediately, grabbing at his guitar.
“What are you–”
“No. Fuck that.” You repeat, successfully pushing his guitar off his lap. “If this is going to work, you have to at least pretend like you trust me. Song writing isn’t just strumming on your guitar all day and hoping for the best. It’s vulnerability, and it’s pouring your heart and soul and life into something and praying that someone out there feels the same way. That’s what ‘Begin Again’ was. And every single person who listened and liked that song and every single person who sang with us at the festival is saying that they feel the same way. So, what are you so afraid of? Why do you feel like you can’t trust me?”
Sunwoo gulps. “Which question should I answer first?”
You inhale slowly. “The latter.”
Sunwoo just shakes his head. “I don’t know you.”
“Ask me then.” You say desperately, like it should have been obvious to him, “whatever it is that you want to know just ask it.”
Sunwoo nods. In truth, there’s a million questions he wants to ask you about everything, but at this moment, all those questions sink to the bottom of his mind and only one rises to the top and travels to the tip of his tongue. “Why’d you let Kim Younghoon take credit for that song?”
You lean back slightly at his questions. Looking away from him and towards the murky waters before answering. “Believe it or not, I wasn’t always like this.” You tell him, laughing lightly. “I used to let guys like you walk all over me.”
His heart jumps into his throat. He’s barely able to choke out a, “guys like me?”
You nod, still refusing to meet his eyes. “Guys who don’t believe that I have what it takes.”
“I never said that.”
“But you showed me.”
“When?”
You look at him then, squinting. He hopes what you see is genuineness. He asked the question sincerely. “When you were so quick and ready to dismiss my changes to the lyrics during the ‘Begin Again’ takes. When you let me join your band on this album, and then expected me to sing an entire record full of songs that mean nothing to me. I’m a songwriter, Sunwoo. It’s the one thing about me that no one can take.”
Something between intrigue and malice slips in behind his tongue. “So what can people take?”
You shake your head, smiling ever so slightly. “My turn. What are you so afraid of?”
Sunwoo inhales sharply. “Well, I’m afraid of dying and of heights and–”
“Stop that.” You cut in, like you really mean it. “Why are you so afraid to say what you really think?”
He sucks in his bottom lip, shrugging. “‘Begin Again’ was your song more than it was mine. What if people don’t like what I have to say? What if they can’t relate and just think I’m fucked up and crazy?”
Your eyes soften, and your smile lines deepen. It takes a moment for him to register that you're smiling, really smiling, at him. He’s never known a smile could feel so inviting. 
“But what if they do?”
Sunwoo takes a moment to think about what you’ve said. And in that moment, whatever insect had died gets resurrected, returning to nature’s hum, filling his ears. Sunwoo looks all around him. The hum of life, the beat of water, the tune of leaves falling. He’s surrounded not just by nature and greenery, but also by music. And it’s erupting from every corner of these woods.
His eyes finally land on you.
“I think I found our melody.”
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When you come into the studio the next day, the song is done. You went to sleep humming it still and running through the lyrics over and over again in your head.
“Let us sing it for you first,” Sunwoo suggests to the rest of the band with Chanhee listening in from the control room. “And whenever you feel like you got it, just hop in with what you think works, and we can refine and shape it from there.”
You watch the rest of the band as Sunwoo explains it. Juyeon looks shocked, but excited. Changmin looks proud. And you can’t really read what the other two are thinking. 
“Chanhee, are we good?” Sunwoo asks, turning around to the window into the control room. 
“Whenever you’re ready.” Chanhee replies, voice filtering in through the intercom. You nod. Sunwoo nods. The rest of the band nods. Chanhee presses a couple buttons and says, “This is ‘Can You See Me’.”
Sunwoo starts playing the chords he found yesterday. You’re not sure why or how but it reminds you of those woods. His voice starts singing the first line of the song. You close your eyes and take it in. You join him for the chorus, singing alongside his voice feeling the words flow. It’s Kevin that joins you two first, playing a couple loose notes, testing things out. By the end of the chorus, he’s found it, playing a little more confidently and adding a whole new level of depth to the song. A depth that makes you feel like you’ve only ever known two colors your whole life and in a matter of seconds Kevin added in a third. Jacob joins in next, as your voice takes over for the second verse, playing off what Sunwoo was playing but making it his own. Sunwoo goes over to where Changmin’s sitting and says something to him in his ear. Changmin nods. Sunwoo goes over to Juyeon, but Juyeon shakes his head, already starting to play something. Sunwoo heads back to his mic right before the second chorus starts. You turn and sing the last line of the pre-chorus to him
And I know that you never trusted me. 
He joins you for the chorus, singing back.
Can you see me standing from there? And can you see the blood on my hands? If I give you all of the parts to my heart, Will you care that I’ve been scarred and stitched up?
Changmin starts playing then, the drums filling in the last thing the song needed. You listen to the rest of the band play and marvel at how insanely talented they all are to pick up and play something that actually works after only a minute of hearing it. The song needs polishing, yes, but it’s got a good sound and it’s heading in the right direction.  
You don’t take your eyes off Sunwoo, and he doesn’t take his eyes off you. And for the remainder of the song, you sing to each other. 
The song ends. The last one playing is Kevin. And for a couple seconds, no one says anything. 
It’s Chanhee’s voice that comes out of the silence first. “I’m a fucking genius.” 
You smile at Sunwoo. He smiles back. 
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After recording and polishing ‘Can You See Me’, you and Sunwoo fall into a song-making rhythm of sorts.
(We don’t always have it perfect.)
“I feel like this lyric in ‘Puzzle Pieces’ doesn’t fit.” You say to Sunwoo, before muttering the lyric outloud. “It’s too shy. I don’t know. I just think it’s missing the mark a little bit, don’t you think?”
Sunwoo groans tiredly. “God, I can’t think about this anymore. Can we take a break? Go get some food or something?”
“Yes, but before we do, do you think ‘I see us standing in the distance’ or ‘I see you standing in the distance’ works better here?”
Sunwoo just stands ignoring your question and muttering ‘no’ repeatedly. 
You follow, running after him and begging him to listen. 
(Boy, do we fight.)
“I think there should be more drums in the hook.” Sunwoo announces after the third run through. 
“Why?”
His eyes widen, sarcastically. “Because there should be.”
“Don’t do that.” You scoff, used to his antics. “Answer the question: why?”
He sighs, resting his hands on his hips. “It’s missing something. The song still feels empty. I mean, the lyrics allude to a love that’s blooming and growing between two individuals, but nothing behind the lyrics build up with it. There’s almost a disconnect between the words and the music.”
“I disagree.” 
He scoffs. “All that for–”
“I think it works just fine without the drums, and if you add the drums it’ll become more suspenseful. The song is supposed to feel like falling.”
He shakes his head. “It’s supposed to feel like butterflies.”
“It’s supposed to feel like peace.”
(Sometimes you win.) 
“Let’s vote.” Sunwoo suggests. “If you’re for the drums, raise your hand.”
Only Changmin (the drummer), does.
(Sometimes you lose.)
Chanhee presses the red button on the sound board, announcing to the recording stage, “Take 3 of Aurora. Sunwoo, try softening your voice a little for this one.”
“Chanhee, can we just try one take with me in it?” You ask him. “I think even if I were just singing a harmony or in the background of the bridge, it would add so much.”
“No.” Chanhee says, scribbling something down in his notebook. “I’m with Sunwoo on this one.”
“Chanhee, you haven’t even heard my–”
“This song doesn’t need your voice.”
(But sometimes, we get it just right and fit like the last two puzzle pieces.)
“No,” you say, shaking your head as Jacob and Juyeon finish off the last chords of the song, “It needs to sound murkier.”
Jacob, Kevin, Changmin, and Juyeon just stare at you blankly.
“Less cymbals, Changmin.” Sunwoo says over the speaker from the control room. “And Juyeon, ride out the low tones more.” 
You turn and see him. He catches your eyes, smiling slightly, reassuring you. Like he gets you. 
From behind you, you hear Kevin lightheartedly mutter, “since when do they have their own language?”
Jacob and Changmin laugh, but you barely notice because you see him. You see the way his brows furrow when he’s thinking. You see the way he sticks out his tongue when he’s focused. You see all of it. 
And for a moment, he sees you. All of you. And he doesn’t turn away from it.  
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Today’s songwriting session quickly turned into a field trip from the studio to grab food which then turned into you leading Sunwoo’s car to the beach. You and Sunwoo sit on a stone ledge, right where the sand begins, 20 paces away from the ocean. Between you sits leftover fries and your untouched song notebook. You watch the sun dip into the sea and listen to the waves crash over and over again. The wind pushes furiously, tossing his hair to the side and pushes his head away from it. It just so happens that away from the wind means towards you. 
“So,” you begin, popping a fry in your mouth and dusting the salt off your hands, “when are you going to answer my question of why you let me in the band?”
Sunwoo figured this question was coming. He’s been avoiding answering it. “You really want to know?”
You look at him sincerely. “Yes.”
Sunwoo looks out to the water. “After our first album, Chanhee prepared a tour for us. It was this tiny tour, not even big enough for a tour manager. We played in the smallest venues with okay-sized crowds. I mean, it was barely a tour, really more of a way to get our name out there. And after the northern leg of it, I…” Sunwoo closes his eyes and sees moments from that tour flash behind his lids: strobe lights, bodies in bed, empty glasses, and negative pockets. Sometimes memories can feel like nightmares. “I was just in a really, really, bad place. By the time we were halfway down the east coast, I was barely even able to play. Chanhee saved me then. He saved my fucking life. But he had to cancel the rest of the tour in that process. The rest of the band, man, they couldn’t even stand the sight of my face. Juyeon especially. It was Chanhee who ended up being the one to convince them to let me back in. I owe Chanhee my entire livelihood and my life. So when he asked what I thought about you joining the band for this album and when I saw how badly he wanted it to happen, I owed it to him to say yes.”
It’s been so long since he’s recounted that story, even to himself. It doesn’t hurt as much as it once did. That knowledge surprises him. 
“Where are you now?” You ask suddenly, pulling him out of his head.
He turns to you. “What?”
“If you were in a bad place then, where are you now?”
The wind quiets for a moment; he feels a warmth overtake him in its absence. “Someplace better.”
He looks down, not even noticing the smile growing on his face, and catches sight of your notebook. He points at it, asking, “may I?”
You look down at it as well, grabbing another fry. “Sure.”
He flips through the pages of your notebook. The first half isn’t even songs. It’s snippets, words, singular sentences taking up an entire page. It’s only halfway through the book that it actually turns into something that could be called songwriting. He asks you about it. 
“Ah, that’s when I met Chanhee.” You tell him, smiling fondly. Sunwoo puts the notebook down and waits for you to explain. “Before him, I had songs, but they weren’t real songs, you know? They were just some combination of all the snippets and sentences I had written down. But then Chanhee heard me play at the Eastern, and said that I had a good voice. He asked if he could give me his card so that we could talk more, and I said that I wasn’t interested in people who only saw me for my voice and walked away.” 
“You’re insane.” Sunwoo mutters, baffled. He remembers the chance encounter he had with Chanhee right after he and the band moved down here to make a name for themselves. He remembers how hard he begged for the same chance Chanhee offered to you so simply. “So, how’d you end up working with him then?”
“He found me again at the diner I used to work at after that. I told him I still wasn’t interested, and he asked if I had written the song I played that night at the Eastern. I said yes, and he said that he was only interested in my voice because my songs weren’t there yet.”
Sunwoo chuckles.  “So he’s always been an asshole then?”
“Oh yeah.” You nod, mirroring the sound. “He was an asshole about it, but he was right. And it was the first time that someone believed in me enough to think that I could be better. That is what made me want to try and write a song that would make him see that I’m as good of a songwriter as I am a singer. I spent a lot of time working and got out one good song. I sang it all across the strip. He finally saw me play again at Ben’s Garage. I let him sign me after that.”  
“What was that song about?”
Your lips do this half frown thing that makes Sunwoo want to peer inside your brain and figure out exactly where it came from. “It was about what all songs are about.”
“Which is?”
You look at him like it’s obvious. “Love.”
It feels like a shot of sunlight through his veins. 
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Sunwoo drives you back home after the beach. You had gotten nothing done in terms of the album, but you felt happy, and you felt free. You watch him from the corner of your eye. You’ve only known each other for some months now, but it feels like so much longer. You’ve told him more about yourself and your past than anyone else you’ve met in your adult life. You’ve told him your deepest worries and darkest secrets, and he never turned away from you, not once. Instead he took your insecurities and turned them into beautiful melodies. He turned all your doubts into celebrations of hope. And he did it for you. 
Suddenly, it no longer feels like you only met him when you recorded ‘Begin Again’ together. Suddenly, it feels like you’ve known him since you were a teenager and like you’ve been in love with him ever since. Your palms start to sweat. Your heart sinks past your lungs. Is it all those goddamn fries or him that’s making your stomach turn?
He turns onto your street. This is it, you think to yourself. He’s everything I’ve been waiting for.
He walks you to your door, and you stand facing each other on your porch. 
“This was nice.” You tell him, taking another step towards him. 
“It was.” He mumbles, a lazy smile on his face.  
You take another step towards him. He doesn’t move back. His mouth parts. You watch his lips, trace them with your gaze. You think about what it would feel like to kiss them. 
“Do you want to come in for a bit?” The words come flying out of your mouth involuntarily. You barely register that you’ve said them. They didn’t come from your mind but from a tiny spot deep in your gut where the urge to take another step towards him lies. You give into that urge without thinking twice about it. You’re closer to him than you’ve been in months. The last time you were this close being that moment on stage during the ‘Begin Again’ performance. You’re surprised you remember that. His breaths then were ragged, uneven. His breaths now are barely there, like he isn’t even breathing. You can smell the mint he popped in his mouth when you left from the beach. You can smell whatever perfume he must’ve sprayed on his neck this morning. 
And you’re so wholly aware of the fact that his eyes are looking at your lips. 
He turns away from you and glances at your door, saying, “I should go.” 
You feel something in your chest sink and sink and sink. 
“I’ll see you in the studio tomorrow.” He continues. “We still gotta help Kevin figure out his part for ‘Puzzle Pieces’.” 
And with that he’s off, and you’re left standing on the porch alone wondering how someone can look at you like that and then just leave. You look down by your feet and see your heart sitting there, next to your shoes. You leave it there and head it inside. 
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The next day, Chanhee cancels your studio time without explanation and reschedules you and the band for the following day. 
When that day finally does come, Sunwoo doesn’t show up on time to help you and Kevin figure out the right notes to play for the song you wrote together like he said. Instead, he stumbles into the studio late with a song in his hand wearing the same clothes he wore with you at the beach. And that alone, feels like a betrayal of some sort. 
“What’s it about?” Jacob asks.
He looks around the room, excited. “It’s about my new partner.” 
You feel the urge to vomit all over the recording stage. 
Luca, it turns out, is Sunwoo’s partner’s name. Sunwoo had brought them into the studio a week after they started dating, and they’ve been coming routinely ever since. As much as you hate it and as much as it makes your heart bend and break, Sunwoo looks really, genuinely happy with Luca. You wonder if he ever looked like that with you. 
You really wish you hated Luca, but you don’t. They’re actually quite nice and get along with the whole band so easily. They even make friends with Chanhee. You thought they might be a distraction to Sunwoo while writing and recording, but Sunwoo is more focused and productive and creative than ever. The song he wrote right after meeting Luca is good, like stupidly good. There isn’t a single word in it that needs changing. 
With your help, Sunwoo writes another song about them, called ‘Light of My Life.’ It’s while writing that song that you find out that Luca was never a stranger, and that day after the beach was not their first meeting. It’s Changmin who tells you how Luca is from their hometown and how Sunwoo and Luca used to date. 
The day that you record ‘Light of My Life’ Luca is also in the studio, sitting in the control room and laughing at something with Eric. 
You light up my life even when it’s dark. You both sing together. It’s an acoustic song; only Jacob stands behind you guys strumming the chords on his guitar. The rest of the band didn’t even come in today. You color my world even when I’m feeling blue. You glance over at Sunwoo. He isn’t looking your way. He’s looking at Luca through the control room window. When I’m with you, I never feel alone. You think about the times when he used to look at you while recording. When you hold me, baby, I feel at home. Luca looks back at Sunwoo. It hits you how beautiful they are, with dyed silver hair and slender face. You don’t blame Sunwoo for writing such a beautiful song about them. You don’t blame yourself for helping him. I can’t believe this has happened to me. Right before the next line, Sunwoo finally finally turns and looks at you. I feel alive because of you. 
Sunwoo turns back to the control room. Sunwoo wrote this song for Luca, but he wasn’t the only writer on this song, and so, for the rest of the song, you wonder who the hell you wrote this song for?
A tune comes to you while you drive home that night. You scribble down a couple lyrics in your notebook as soon as you walk in your door. 
Silver hair. Silver skin. Sliver of my heart you took with him. 
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Jacob throws a party that weekend. A housewarming for the house he bought with the ‘Begin Again’ checks. Stepping in through the foyer, you question whether you should be buying a house too. You forget that thought by the time you reach the drinks table. 
After your hellos to the rest of the band and all the small talk with people Jacob wanted to introduce you to, you end up standing alone in his backyard, sloshing around the dark liquid in your cup. Truthfully, you’ve barely left your apartment all week. You hadn’t been in the mood for a party. But it’s nice out here. The air is fresh and crisp. The lights, which Changmin and Juyeon enthusiastically and drunkenly told you they helped put up, are warm but not too bright. You imagine you’ll stay out here for the rest of the party. 
“Hi,” you hear a voice say from behind you. You turn around only to find Luca. You hope your face doesn’t betray you when you greet them back. “What are you doing out here?” 
You gulp down a bitter sip of your drink. “Just wanted some quiet.” 
“Same. Kevin started doing karaoke again.” 
“Oof.” You groan sympathetically. “Already?” 
They nod with a laugh. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen all of them.” 
You like Luca. You really do. It’s just taken you until now to realize that you don’t really know them apart from small talk in the studio and the two songs Sunwoo wrote about them. “When did you move down here from your guys’ hometown?” 
“Oh.” Their chin juts out a bit. “I moved down with the band actually.” 
You don’t hide the surprise on your face. 
“I take it no one told you that then.” Luca chuckles darkly. You shake your head. “Uh, well, yeah,” they continue, shoving their free hand into their pocket, “Sunwoo and I started dating right when the band formed. I used to do the photography for them. And when they proposed moving out here, I thought I ought to come with. And I did.” They gulp their drink. “It was good for a while. Really fun in the beginning. But then I got my job taking pictures for the paper, and they were doing the album. And well,” Luca looks at you like you already know what their about to say. “It already wasn’t really working anymore by the time the album was finished. And then they went on tour…” 
They leave that part blank. But based on what you heard from Sunwoo about that first tour, you can piece together what might’ve happened. You question whether Luca left that empty to spare Sunwoo or to spare themself. Then you question how they knew you knew about it. 
“Oh.” Is all you say. You don’t ask about when they encountered each other again. You don’t want to hear it. 
“You know,” Luca begins again, “I actually used to watch you play at the Tabernacle.” 
You groan immediately. You only ever played at the Tabernacle when you first started. You cringe thinking about what you might’ve sang on stage in front of them. “Oh my god. I’m so embarrassed to even think about those days.” 
“No! Don’t be!” They reassure, kindly. “You were really good. I especially liked that one song that went like… The days were wide open, as far as the eye could see.” 
Your heart nearly soars straight out of your body. You had forgotten about this song. You used to love it dearly. You join Sunwoo’s partner for the second line.
The world was mine to take, but I’ve never been good at accepting things. 
“You and the band together,” Luca says a moment after you both stop singing, “it’s magical, don’t get me wrong, but that song,” they smile at you, “it’s a damn good song.” 
You can’t help but smile back. “Thank you.” 
“Sunwool showed me a couple of the songs from the album.” Luca mentions, and it instantly and heartbreakingly reminds you who you’re talking to. “They’re amazing. They’re so good and real and raw that it almost makes me wonder…” their voice tapers off, losing the sound to a small exhale that appears as if it was meant to be a laugh, “Nevermind.” 
“What?” You poke, instinctively leaning in towards them.
They meet your eyes, creases running along their forehead and frown lines more prominent than ever. “It almost makes me wonder if there was something between you both.” 
You swallow, pointing at your chest. Your voice comes out raspy without you meaning for it to. “Me and Sunwoo?” 
They nod. “Yeah, I mean the lyrics in ‘Begin Again’—“ 
“That song’s not about me. Or about him.” You defend. “We didn’t even know each other when we wrote that.” 
“What about ‘Can You See Me’?” 
Your breath catches. Truthfully, you answer, “I don’t know what that song’s about.” 
When you get home that night, you finish the song you started writing about Sunwoo and Luca. 
When you breathe in his lips, do you think of mine? What kind of songs were we making? Were they all lies? 
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“What’s it called?” The question comes from Changmin. 
You look up from the paper in your hands filled with the lyrics you had completed over the weekend and after Jacob’s party. You notice he looks sad. You turn your gaze to Juyeon. You can’t really tell what he’s thinking at that moment. 
“Uhm–I don’t know. I haven’t thought of a title yet.”
Sunwoo walks in then. “What are you guys talking about?” He asks, setting down his stuff. Then, more to himself than to you guys, he murmurs, “And where are Kevin and Jacob?”
Changmin and Juyeon don’t say anything. Instead, when Sunwoo asks what you’re doing, they both look at you. You imagine even if Kevin and Jacob were here, they’d do the same. Have you really been this transparent? At what point did they put together all the pieces? 
You hand Sunwoo the song. You have no idea what his reaction will be. 
He just nods, like he has no idea what the song is about. Like he doesn’t see his name and Luca’s scribbled in the margins. 
“Call it ‘Silver Lies’.” He says. 
Juyeon makes a noise. “Call it ‘Silver Linings’.” 
“Vote on it?” Sunwoo proposes. 
“No.” You look at Juyeon. He stares back at you. Something unspoken lies in the space between. “We’ll call it ‘Silver Linings’.”
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A party rages around you. Flashing teeth and flashing lights. Another drink, another riff. You don’t even know where you are right now. You remember coming home after working on ‘Silver Linings’; you remember wanting to forget your own mind. This is the only way you know how.
You don’t even know how long it’s been. 
This is what you do know: You’re sitting by a pool. Your feet are wet. You haven’t been this drunk since your 18th birthday. Kim Sunwoo is standing across the pool from you. 
Your face breaks out in a smile. Sober you will regret that. Sober you will also regret how your first thought is that he looks beautiful. You’ll regret the fact that you finally, drunkenly but honestly, admit to yourself how pretty you think he is, how you’ve thought so since your first time hearing him sing, and how you’ve been so painfully aware of it ever since. 
You let yourself fall in the water. Head sinking for a moment, before breaking the surface again. Floating on your back, you start humming the melody to ‘Silver Linings’ in your head. 
Silver hair. Silver skin. Sliver of my heart you took with him. 
You can’t tell if it’s the chlorine or something more pathetic that burns the corner of your eyes and runs down the side of your cheeks. 
You feel something tug on your arm. The sudden jolt makes you lose your balance, falling beneath the water. You’re so fucking wasted you forget if you even know how to swim; you almost forget to not breathe. 
You feel a pair of arms pull you up and hold your head above the surface. You know who they belong to. It strikes you in the back of your mind that this is the first time you’ve been touched by him. So maybe that’s why you relish in the feel of his arms around your waist and the way his hand grips at your hip. 
He looks at you like you’re filth. Just as all your partners before him did. First they’re sweet and charming, but it always ends like this. In their arms, simultaneously wanting to be far away and fighting the urge to beg: love me, please. 
Even if he wasn’t your partner, even if all he was was a hope and a ‘what if’. 
You barely even register it when you say, “you're just like the rest of them.” 
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He rages back, not even acknowledging what you said.
“Nothing.” You tell him, smiling, wishing like hell that you believed it. 
“You missed our studio time. We were supposed to record ‘Silver Linings’.” He fumes at you. “Do you know what time it is? Do you even know what day it is?”
“Do you know how much of a fucking mood kill you can be?” You bite back. 
“What are you on?” He looks repulsed. You hate it. Hate the way that you showed him your whole heart and that he still looks at you like this. 
Seething, you say, “What do you think?” 
And that—that is what breaks him. What makes him lose his shit and start screaming. 
“Chanhee is fuming at us!” 
You barely notice it. Instead, you repeat in your head the words to the one song you truly, wholeheartedly wrote for him. 
“The record label isn’t going to let this slide, you do realize that, don’t you?” 
When you breathe in his lips, do you think of mine? 
“You wasted an entire day of recording!”
What kind of songs were we making? 
“No.” You say finally, voice coming out quiet. It sounds so misplaced and so wrong next to all the yelling between you two. “We wasted so much more than that.” 
Were they all lies?
For the first time since you’ve seen him tonight, he doesn’t say anything back. He just stares at you, like he can see straight through. The party continues all around you. It never stopped. It never quieted down. And yet, it somehow feels like you and him are the only ones in this pool. Like you’re stuck in time. Like you’ve created your own world with him and that’s where you’ve retreated to now. 
“Was any of it real?” You ask before you can stop the words. You hate how pathetic you sound. You hate how desperate it all is. 
All he says before leaving you in the water alone is: “I’m with Luca now.” 
He splashes water in your face on his way out. 
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a/n: originally posted as a svt fic, but lowk feels like it fits sunwoo even better. not proof read very thoroughly so pls lemme know if you noticed any mistakes lol
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snowflakewhispers · 3 months
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Waiting For Our Storms To Pass
Pairing: Sunwoo x f! reader
Trope: Enemies to lovers
Synopsis: Lost in a storm of trying to be someone you’re not, a drive with your worst enemy might just be enough to let the snow settle and give you some clarity. 
Warnings: profanities, mentions of another member, cheating, brief mentions of death, extreme weather, nicknames (princess), kissing, unrequited love.
Word Count: 3.1k
Network: @deoboyznet
A/N: This is purely fictional and is not an accurate depiction of the individuals mentioned. Not proofread. Also, clearly I know nothing about the weather but let’s just go with it for the sake of the plot. Please remember that the only reason you should change who you are is to become the best version of yourself and not to please others. 18+ content, Minors DNI.
This is dedicated to the lovely @from-izzy <3 (yep I'm your secret santa!!) I really enjoyed exploring this genre and I sincerely hope you find a way to enjoy it :) Happy New Year!
“No, no, no, no, no, please-” 
You’ve been trying to start your car for the past 10 minutes, but you haven’t gotten anything more than a sputter of the engine. A yell of frustration rips from your throat, and you stomp your foot onto the floor of the car as you slump forward against the wheel. 
You’re shivering and on the verge of tears in your useless excuse of a car, and you begin to wonder if your week could get any worse. Firstly, you missed out on an internship because you didn’t have the right connections. Secondly, your parents called to let you know that they wouldn’t be able to fly into town for the holidays, leaving you to curl up in your apartment all alone. Next, you’ve begun to suspect that your boyfriend is cheating on you. 
And now, the universe has just smacked you with dreadful weather and you have no means of getting home safely. 
You watch as the snow gets heavier, and you curse at yourself for making the effort to attend a class in-person when you could’ve skipped it like nearly everyone else did, even if there wasn’t an official announcement from your lecturer. It doesn’t pay to be a people-pleaser, you think. 
You dial your boyfriend’s number, holding your phone to your ear as it rings, but he doesn’t pick up. You try again, and after the first few rings, he picks up, and you heave a sigh of relief. 
“Babe, where are you now?”
“I’m at Juyeon’s place- why do you ask?” 
“Um,” you hesitate, already anticipating that he’s gonna disappoint you yet again, “I-I’m stuck on campus because my car won’t start and the snow’s really coming in. Could you come get me, please?”
You hear the rustle of bed sheets on the other line, and Hyunjae groans. 
“Can’t right now- we’re pretty swamped…” 
Your heart sinks in your chest, and right at that moment, you hear someone giggling on the other line. A woman. 
“Hyunjae, is someone there with you-”
“Hey- I gotta go, I’ll call you.” And he hangs up on you, leaving you to freeze in your car. 
Tears begin to prick at your eyes and you huddle your knees to your chest. “How did you manage to lose this one, y/n?” you whisper. The sound of the winds howling isn’t nearly enough to drown out the thoughts of failing to find love and being all alone for eternity. Afterall, It’s impossible to seek something without even knowing what it looks like.
You nearly jump out of your skin at the blare of a car horn, and you roll down your frosted window to get a look at whoever honked at you only to sigh in annoyance when you take in his unmistakable smirk.
Kim Sunwoo, childhood best friend turned bad boy and bane of your existence, sits in the car next to yours. The things he did always brought out the worst in you- invading your space, ridiculing you for your taste in men, interrupting dates, you name it- and he’s been doing all of it for his own amusement for years. 
You have no idea what brought this kind of behaviour on. As kids, the both of you were inseparable, pairing up for class projects, screaming playfully at each other during dodgeball, and having little conversations about your futures. But, things changed when the both of you entered middle school- you got into boys, and he got into trouble. Even till today, you’re stuck in the same pattern, because no matter how hard you tried to shake him off, he would follow you. God knows how he even managed to follow you to your dream college on the other side of the country and continue to taunt you.
Gone is the sweet boy who used to keep a hair tie on his wrist in case you needed it. 
“Stuck, princess?” he taunts. 
“Shut up.”
“How rude,” he tuts, tilting his head, “I was literally asking if you were stuck and I was about to offer you a ride.”
“I’d never go anywhere with you, Kim Sunwoo,” you snap, “don’t you have some daft bimbo to screw with? Maybe some frat’s house to vandalise? Typical bad boy shit?”
“I could, but not right now. Talking to you like this is fun enough as it is,” he teases, and you nearly pray that you freeze to death. He laughs at the disgusted look on your face and waves you over, “come on, I’ll give you a lift.”
“Over my dead body,” you snarl. 
“Why not?” he pouts, feigning concern, “the heating’s on blast and I’ve got snow tyres.” 
“I’m perfectly fine,” you huff, “now, fuck off and move along.”
“So… you’re not shivering and on the brink of death by hypothermia?”
“Will you just shut the fu-”
“Take it or leave it, ice princess,” he smirks. 
You hate yourself for doing this, but alas, desperate times call for desperate measures. You try to roll your window back up as much as you can, grab your belongings from the back as you get out of your car, and you trudge towards his mustang. 
The moment you slide into the passenger seat, you’re welcomed by the blast of heat from the vents, and it’s finally warm enough to rid yourself of your coat. You make the mistake of turning to look at Sunwoo, who stares right back at you with a triumphant smile on his stupid face. 
“You’re welcome-”
“Just shut up and drive.”
He pulls the car out of the parking lot, revving the engine and speeding off into the dark, cold night, and you brace yourself for the storm ahead.
For the first few minutes, you sit in silence, directing your attention to the snowfall outside until he initiates conversation. “Got any plans for New Year’s?” he asks. You roll your eyes and shift in your seat, refusing to answer him and you continue to fix your gaze on the snow as it passes your window. 
“You really aren’t gonna speak to me at all?” he presses. You figure that this could go on forever, so you release a loud sigh, coming up with a reply without even sparing him a glance. “No, I’m on my own.”
“Oh?” he says, quirking an eyebrow and you hate that he finds joy in your misery, “is that so?”
“What do you want from me, Sunwoo?”
“Nothing, I’m just making small talk… Sometimes I just might not be the asshole you make me out to be, y’know,” he mumbles, and you shoot him a glare instead of thinking about apologising. He puts the radio on, a song by Snow Patrol comes on, and you’re suddenly reminded that it was a song you particularly liked during your childhood. You wonder if Sunwoo remembers, but you don’t see a point in trying to find out. 
“Well, maybe if you didn’t do things a typical asshole would do, I wouldn’t have judged you so quickly,” you argue. 
“Whatever you say, princess,” he teases, and you cringe. 
“Don’t call me that,” you retort, and he merely chuckles at your reaction. 
You notice that even when he’s trying to mess with your head and he only has one hand on the wheel, he’s surprisingly careful on the road, but you won’t give him credit for that. You turn your head slightly to look at him, and through the years, you’ve never actually bothered to really get a good look at his features. Other than the stronger jawline, he hasn’t changed too much. His lips are still plump, and his eyebrows have maintained their shape and thickness- but there’s something different about his eyes, and you can’t quite identify what it is. 
There’s no point dwelling on it, you think, he’s a different person now. You think you may have loved Sunwoo at some point before things changed, but what did you know about love? 
You pull yourself out of your thoughts, and you focus your gaze back onto the road ahead.
“So,” he quips, “why am I the one rescuing you instead of that boyfriend of yours?”
“I wouldn’t go there if I were you, Sunwoo,” you warn, the feeling of unease already creeping in, but he continues. 
“Was he busy tonight? Doing something important? Doing someone-” 
“Sunwoo, please-” 
“What a surprise,” he drawls, “pretty boy can’t come rescue his girlfriend because he’s busy screwing other chicks.”
“Will you stop-” the reminder of being tossed aside for someone else begins to overwhelm you, but Sunwoo’s attacks keep coming.
“He’s such a jerk, and the fact that you try to convince yourself that he’s not just makes you stupid as well.”
You turn your body to face him, retorting with a glare, “well, it seems that you would know how jerks behave, Sunwoo.”
“At least I don’t try to delude myself into thinking otherwise,” he counters, raising his voice slightly.
“You shit on every guy I date,” you yell, “but just so you know, your opinion means jackshit to me.”
“Oh, just like how you mean jackshit to every guy you date?” 
His words cut through you deeper than you expect them to, and the realisation that he’s right seizes your chest. 
“Stop the car.”
“Excuse me-”
“Just stop the car, damn it!” You shout. 
You get out of the car before it can come to a complete stop, leaving your coat behind, preferring to brave the storm rather than to remain in the suffocating warmth of Sunwoo’s car. “Fuck,” he curses, grabbing your coat and scrambling to get out of his car to go after you.
“Y/n, are you fucking crazy?” he shouts 
“Yes!” you scream, trying to hasten your pace, 
“Just come back, it’s fucking freezing!”
“Leave me alone!” you cry. 
You try to break into a run, not caring if you look absolutely ridiculous while going against the wind, and Sunwoo swears as he’s forced to catch up. 
Battling the winds, you run as fast as your body allows you to, but you’re too blinded by rage to spot the black ice ahead of you. You lose your footing on the ice, yelping as you slip and brace yourself, but your head never hits the ground. 
Sunwoo’s got one arm around your waist and a hand gripping your upper arm, hauling you back onto your feet. He huffs, picking your coat off the icy road and wrapping it tightly around your shoulders. “You’re fucking insane,” he rasps, hunching over and resting his hands on his knees as he catches his breath.
You clutch the seams of your coat, shivering from the force of the winds, but aside from the cold biting at your cheeks, you’re feeling too many things at once. An otherwise touching gesture plunges you into confusion and frustration- if he had hated you for all these years, gone to great lengths to bring you misery and probably wouldn’t care if you were left to die alone, why the hell would he even bother to chase you in the midst of a snowstorm to make sure you didn’t freeze to death? 
You hate that he’s messing with your head like this, and you take a step away from the boy in front of you, and you demand answers. 
“Where did we go wrong, Sunwoo?” 
He looks up at you, straightening his posture, and when he’s facing you properly, you continue to confront him. 
“We started off as friends, then suddenly you change and we’re at each other’s necks, and I know for a fact that I’m not the one who started it.”
Sunwoo looks like he’s just been slapped across the face, his expression turning into one of disbelief, but you don’t even notice. 
“You aren’t the boy you used to be. We used to be inseparable, but now you do nothing but follow me literally everywhere to make my life a living hell,” you’re tired, exasperated, and you just need an answer from him, "tell me why you had to change."
Don’t put this all on me- we’ve both changed, he thinks. 
“Y/n-” he starts. 
“Tell me!”
“Because after all this time and what we’ve been through, how the hell could you still choose anyone but me?” he shouts.
The sudden change in his demeanour stuns you, you’re unsure if you heard him correctly, but Sunwoo’s pained expression shocks you more than anything. 
“I’ve always been right with you, y/n,” he says, his voice still loud but shaken with emotion, “do you know how it feels to watch you throw yourself at literally anyone else time and again when I’m the one who’s been trying to keep up and be with you every step of the way?
“It fucking hurts to know that I’ve never been an option for you. No matter how differently I try to act, trying to be just like all those jerks you went after, people like Lee Hyunjae- fuck- I sunk to unimaginable levels just so you’d look at me.” Tears run down his cheeks, and he shakes as he unleashes years of pent up desperation. “Yes, I have changed. But that’s not fucking fair, y/n. Don’t fucking put this all on me when I have watched you change for him- for all of them!”
You flinch at his outburst, and no words come to mind when you try to retaliate. You have no defence. You realise now that Sunwoo is right, and the awareness of what’s become of you is crippling. And right now, you can’t ever bear to face him. 
“You never had to, you know,” he says quietly, “you were perfect- you’re still perfect to me…”
The words that leave his lips have you turning back towards him, and your heart aches in your chest. He’s staring right back at you, and you let out a quiet gasp of recognition. His eyes look different than before. Though tear-filled, you realise that you’re looking into the eyes of the boy you desperately missed- warm, hopeful, loving. 
“I have changed myself thousands of times just so I’d get someone to stay, but none of them have, Sunwoo.”
“I stayed,” he whispers, and you feel like you could shatter if someone so much as layed a finger on you. 
“Hell- I’ve kept up with you through all those changes, but the one thing that hasn’t changed is the way I feel for you.”
You’re so overcome by your emotions- sorrow, guilt, regret- and they’re building too quickly for you to figure out what to do with yourself.
Sunwoo knows that you’re in just as much pain as he is, and he just needs to make you realise that you’ll never have to twist yourself into a different person for anyone else ever again. He approaches you, raising his rough hands cup your cheeks, and before you can attempt to break free from his grasp again, he closes the gap between you, and his lips engulf yours. 
Your breath hitches, you raise your fists to thump against his chest and push him away, but you pause. You feel like you should hate this a lot more than you do, but you can’t help but relax into the kiss. 
Your frozen exterior crumbles as warmth floods throughout your body, and you let your eyelids flutter shut as the ice melts from your eyes, trickling down your cheeks in gentle currents. It all feels so sincere, familiar, and comforting, as if you’re right where you’re meant to be.
The both of you pull apart for air, but Sunwoo doesn’t let go of you. He keeps his eyes on yours as he caresses your cheeks, and your heart pounds when a smile grows on his face- his bright, genuine, unchanging smile, just the way it’s been at the beginning.
Everything seems to go quiet around you- the howling winds have stopped their abuse, the snow has gotten lighter, and suddenly you can see a lot more clearly.  
Overwhelmed by emotion, you fall to your knees, and Sunwoo rushes to kneel with you. His warm hands find their way back to the apples of your cheeks, his thumbs wiping your tears as you sob, and he lets his forehead rest against yours. 
“Open your eyes,” he pleads.
Tearful eyes meet his, and you keep crying as he kisses your tears away. You feel absolutely foolish for not seeing the signs earlier, and your heart wrenches at the fact that you’ve lost all of this time with him because you were chasing people who couldn’t give you what you needed.
“How can we go back?” you sob, “I don’t really know who I am anymore.”
“You’re the person I fell in love with,” he whispers, running a hand up and down your back to soothe you, “none of those guys were worth changing for. But I promise you- I'll be the one who’s worth staying the same for.” 
He moves his hands to hold yours, interlocking your fingers and squeezing gently. “Just give us a chance,” he begs, “please… don’t make me waste another minute without you.”
With that, you throw arms around him, clumsily locking your lips with his and his hands rest on the small of your back and the back of your head, pulling you flush against him. His hands slide up, threading his fingers through your hair, and you continue to cling to him like he’s gonna slip away from your grasp at any moment. 
A whine leaves your lips when you pull away, wishing you could hold each other forever, but you don’t realise that your hair has become a complete mess. 
“Come here,” he laughs. 
He tugs you closer, and he pulls his sleeve back to pull something off his wrist. A hair tie. 
You keep your eyes on him as he reaches around you and gathers your hair into a ponytail, putting it together to the best of his abilities, and your heart beats harder at the gesture. 
“Come on,” he says, grabbing your hands and pulling you onto your feet, “let’s get you home before we freeze our asses off.”
“Never let me go,” you plead, and he holds your face in his hands again to plant a kiss against your forehead. 
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispers.  
It’s absolutely frightening to be on our own, to be unsure of which paths to take and paralysed by hesitation. Perhaps if we give ourselves time and wait for the storms in our hearts to pass, our doubts and fears will disappear once the snow settles. We’ll wait, and we’ll take a run at life as soon as things are clear. 
Towards the places where we’re meant to be. 
taglist: @aimeecarreros @daisyvisions @winterchimez click here if you'd like to join!!
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wontune · 3 months
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✿𝆬 sunwoo ( the boyz ) lockscreen
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moonlightdreamzz · 9 months
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HOW THEY REACT WHEN YOU BREAK UP WITH THEM
✰ Sunwoo, Eric, & Q
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SUNWOO
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ERIC
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Q
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alohajun · 1 year
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♡ 22:45 — KIM SUNWOO
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bf!sunwoo x reader | wc : 0.3k words | content : possible grammar and spelling mistakes, lowercase intended, domestic fluff, established relationship, mild swearing, playful fighting, one suggestive (?) line towards the end | loki's lines : i kinda sorta maybe did it again @ethereal-engene and it’s all bc of you
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"you really need to be bundled in bubble wrap."
you muttered, glancing at your boyfriend from your phone, before going back to it as if nothing happened.
kim sunwoo laid on the ground after having tripped over air for the nth time that day.
the stack of papers he held was all over the living room, and somehow he managed to get a chair toppled over him as well.
how did that happen? you had no clue. but this was sunwoo, so you weren't really surprised.
"fuck you," he groaned, wincing in pain as he sat himself up. "i could've died, you know?!"
"not my fault you keep tripping on air!"
"it so is! you must've put a curse on me to keep falling or something!"
you scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully. "you were born with that curse," you muttered. "i didn't even do anything to you!" you shook your head.
sunwoo furrowed his brows, standing in front of you with his hands fisted. "oh, yeah? you wanna fight? let's fight." he did a little shadowboxing, purposefully missing your face by inches.
and just like how these playful fights always go, you stood from your seat, grabbing your boyfriend's fists, and pushing him against the nearest wall.
even though he would never admit it, you saw the slight smile on his face at your actions before he covered it up with a playful frown.
you smile to yourself, playing along. "you know you never fight back," you said, leaning closer to sunwoo's face.
"huh?"
"you always tell me to fight you, but you never do. you just give up whenever this happens."
sunwoo looked away, avoiding eye contact. "yeah, well, you know, i just don't wanna fight you anymore, i guess." he cleared his throat.
you let go of his fists, tilting your head to the side with an amused smile on your face. sunwoo's face slowly turned red, biting his lip as he realised you had caught on to his schemes.
"oh, yeah? my bad, then. i thought it was because you just liked me pinning you against walls."
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blackenedkisses · 1 year
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[ warnings ⚠️!!! very dark themed romance, if cutting, blood or kissing scars bother you please feel free to scroll! read at your own risk ]
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[ sunwoo abusive romance fic ]
you sit on the bed silently as a hot tear fell through, landing on your satin nightie. you felt motionless as another cut on your arm was made, a heart.
as he adjusted the angle of the knife to make a curve, he looked up to see you, eyes hollow and grim, body frozen in place as you took in the pain of the scar. you almost couldn't feel it anymore by how many cuts you've gotten, but nonetheless, some tiny shot of pain still ripped through your wrists whenever the blade made contact with your skin, like a small injection almost.
"hey.. don't be sad. you know i don't like doing this but i'm doing this for you, so you can learn. hm? baby?" sunwoo's positive outlook on the situation only made you scoff, making him raise his eyebrows in slight surprise.
"what's wrong?"
you could only turn your head, all the energy you had previously dissolved as you stare at the blood on your wrist as he patiently cut the heart. the drops of blood travelled down your wrist, dripping continuously on the white cloth sunwoo had put under your wrist prior.
"us. everything is wrong with us sun, i thought we were perfect. but are we? are we perfect? is this what love is?" you begin to say, voice barely above as a whisper, little cracks evident in your tone.
he put down the blade for a moment then hugged you, you didn't resist yet also didn't reciprocate. he stroked your hair as he began to murmur the same words he'd already told you dozens of times before.
"of course we are. it's you and me y/n, of course we're bound to be perfect. what made you think we aren't?"
you smirk in irritation as you pushed him off of you gently then pull up your nightie, revealing countless healing and recently made cuts on your stomach, some in delicately carved shapes and some seemingly made in a loss of time.
he took the hand that previously lifted up your nightie and kissed it before pushing your body down lightly. he let go of your hand then lifted up your pajama once more. he placed your heart over your stomach, letting the blood from your wrist drip down on your stomach, covering your stomach with red fluid.
a minute or two passed as the blood balanced on your stomach before he wiped off your wrist completely, beginning to kiss and lick the blood of your stomach, sending small vibrations down your body with each lick.
as he reached his favorite scar of yours, the sun, he began to bite on the supple skin gently, until a small purple mark began to reveal itself. a small moan escaped your lips as you felt his tongue suck on your skin.
once he was satisfied with the mark, he raised himself up to meet your face before pecking your forehead. "no one will love you as much as me. we were made for each other."
"please... never stop loving me."
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juhakx · 1 year
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Sparkle- Kim Sunwoo
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Genre: Angst, fluff, royal!au, princess!y/n
Word Count:15.5k
Inspired by. that one vlive where Sunwoo learns the word ticklish <3
a/n happy birthday to the brightest Sun in the entire world, Kim Sunwoo. your eyes truly do sparkle. 
Being the youngest child of three was extremely boring when it came to royalty. 
“Sangyeon, please escort Yuri out to the gardens before we meet.” Yuri blushes at the King’s command, her hand enveloped by Sangyeon’s when he thinks no one is looking.
“God, they are just–” Chae steals a pastry from the kitchen and twirls, stopping just before her eyes land on Hyunjae. 
You scoff, taking the pastry from her hands. “Both of you, completely incapable of procuring any common sense when men are involved.” 
You’re pleasantly surprised when you take a bite of the pastry, realizing that it was mango-flavored. Your favorite. 
“You’re just saying that because no boy has ever shown interest in you. Nor have you ever shown interest in a boy for that matter.” Chae shakes out of her stupor, eyebrows furrowing when she realizes that her pastry was taken from her hands. 
“I will have you know that plenty of people have shown interest in me,” You scoff, crossing your arms. Your mood had instantly plummeted, Chae’s remarks and the fact that you had devoured the mango pastry within seconds being the cause. 
It wasn’t that men weren’t interested in you. In fact, you and Juyeon had dated for a whole three weeks. That was until you realized you didn’t like him and merely liked that he would bake you cookies. He realized it too. 
Chae’s response is ready on her tongue but she gets cut off. The clock chimes seven, vibrating throughout the castle. The guards begin to escort you to the meeting room as it was the most important day of the week. The weekly briefing happened at the same room, same day, same time, and with, for some reason, the same people. 
You. Chaewon. Yuri. Your father. 
Discussing the kingdom.
For a Friday evening, the content of today's meeting was even more boring than you expected. The rain was making it difficult for the farmers to create good produce. The neighboring kingdom was getting ready for a spring ball. The trip to acquire more horses was a success. If your father wouldn't scold you for it, you might have even let out a yawn.
Peering down at your fingernails, you can't help but pick at them. Your sister's hands were always painted red but because you liked to help the bakers, it would have been redundant knowing how easily they chip amidst the kitchen.
"King! Your majesty!" A royal guard you were somewhat familiar with, Jacob, bursts through the doors, heaving.
"What is it, Jacob?" The King immediately stands, his eyebrows furrowed. Even you shifted to the edge of your seat, ready for something that wasn't the weather forecast. If a guard barged in without permission, something more significant must be going on.
"We found him."
Immediately, your father straightens his back, a grim look on his face.
"Bring him in."
The doors open wide, two other guards dragging in an unidentifiable male. His curly black hair was covering his eyes, and from the looks of his clothes and the shackles around his wrists, he was either homeless or part of the lower class. He was covered in dirt and from what you could make out, even blood. It made you feel silly sitting on a throne next to your sisters while it was clear that this man was in need of dire help–money, a fresh set of clothes, something better than how he was being treated currently.
"So, you're the thief." 
You inaudibly gasp, the reality of the boy standing in front of you settling in.
He had been the topic of many weekly meetings. A thief. First, it started with stealing bread, then it got worse. Suddenly, expensive items from houses were being stolen. Artifacts from libraries. There had been no news of him recently, just that the thievery kept happening. Well, no news until now.
He shakes his head, his hair settling onto his forehead and out of his eyes. You suck in a breath.
He was gorgeous.
His eyes were a pretty brown. Now that you could see them, certain mirth pooled in them. His eyelashes were long, time almost moving in slow motion as he blinked. There was nothing to compare to his bone structure, it was unfair, really.
You snap out of your enamor when he begins to chuckle.
“The one and only,” He smirks.
Chae scoffs from beside you, but you can’t help but examine his face once more. As if he can sense your eyes on him, his eyes snap toward yours.
Your eyes widen, but he doesn’t react. His smirk only widens. When your father realizes he’s looking at you, he walks forward and blocks your view from the chained man.
“If you care about your life even the slightest, then you will look only at me and address me with respect.”
It was times like these when you realized just how intimidating your father, the King, was. He was able to switch from the man who raised you for 13 years on his own after your mother died with so much love and compassion to someone you could barely recognize. He was always cruel when it came to criminals.
“You see, your majesty, when did I ever say I care for my life?” He spits out. Even though there was venom in his voice, the smirk on his face remained.
The King doesn’t say anything in response. Instead, he examines his face as if he was searching for an answer.
“Fine,” The King says, backing away. “Tell me your name.”
Not a question, but a command.
The unnamed man doesn’t respond. You can’t help but mentally plead for him to start listening to your father. He could be a cruel man and there isn’t much you can do if he doesn’t cooperate.
Before you can blink, the King takes his boot and slams it against the thief’s chest, sending him flying backward. The shackles around his wrists remain intact, but the grip the guards have on him doesn’t. He’s closer to the door now and if he wanted to, he could have attempted to flee. But instead, he starts laughing maniacally as he lies on the ground, facing the ceiling. You grimace and look away. 
“You have no right to know my name. You treat your kingdom like shit and leave the poor to fend for themselves. A true king would already know the name of his citizens–” He pauses, cocking his head to the side. “Especially one that’s a thief, no?”
Chae scoffs once again and you wish that sometimes she would simply keep her mouth shut. You glance at Yuri on the other side of the King’s throne. Her gaze seemed analytic as if she was waiting to see how this would play out. As the next queen, she must feel entitled to do so. All you can hope is that she sees the truth behind this as well. 
He, and many others, were suffering and the kingdom was doing nothing to help. 
“Jacob?”
“Kim Sunwoo. Born April 12, age 23. The firstborn with a younger sister, age 11. Both of his parents died when he was 15.”
The thief, who you now know is named Sunwoo, stares blankly at the King’s face. You can tell from where you’re sitting that he’s biting the inside of his cheek as if he was contemplating something. 
“Kim Sunwoo, I think you are underestimating my power.”
“I think you’re underestimating how loyal your dogs are.”
Your breathing stops, ready for the King to do his worst. If he just didn’t fight back. 
“Fine,” The King pauses, walking up to Sunwoo’s sprawled body. “I declare Kim Sunwoo charged with the capital offense of trespassing on private property, stealing food, jewels, and official artifacts. He is to be hung for his crimes.”
Your breath catches in your throat. Even for the King, this was extreme. He hadn’t even heard Sunwoo out yet, not that Sunwoo pleaded for him to do so. It still wasn’t fair. And it made you sick. 
Sunwoo doesn’t react and you don’t expect him to. This seemed like someone who hadn’t been granted kindness before. You wait for Yuri to say something. You had already lost all faith in Chae after hearing her unsaid thoughts earlier. Yuri would say something. You’re sure she will.
You glance over at Yuri but she remains still, her hands clasped over her crossed legs. It’s not until the King mutters something about taking him away that you realize something must be said, and no one would say anything but you.
“Stop!” You find yourself blurting out. 
Sunwoo’s head snaps up to you. However, your face remains on the King whose eyebrows raise at your defiance. 
“You can not do this,” You dumbly say. 
“Oh, I can and I will,” The King shakes his head and glares at you as if to say ‘We will talk about this later.’ 
Well, what could you lose now?
You stand up. “He’s an orphan, Father–your majesty. He has a younger sister who he takes care of. You can not possibly think death is justifiable for someone who is merely trying to survive.”
If Sunwoo won’t plead, you do. 
“Please. I have not asked much from you, your majesty, but I ask you to rethink this.”
It seems to be working for just a second. For just a second, you can see him pondering your suggestion. 
“Take him to the chambers. Y/N, I would like to talk to you privately.”
It didn’t work. 
Sunwoo’s being taken to the chambers where the guards will prep for execution and then he’ll be hung and it will be nobody’s fault but your own for not trying hard enough. 
“Please, Father–”
“I said I would like to talk to you privately!” His voice booms, echoing throughout the room. The guards take that as their queue to leave, taking Sunwoo by his hands and dragging him out much similar to the way they brought him in. His eyes don’t leave your face once.
Yuri and Chae are escorted out as well, but you can’t even focus on the fact that you were now alone with your father. 
Sunwoo is going to be executed. He is going to die and all that will be left of his family will be a little sister who no longer has parents or a brother. One who will have to bear the repercussions of your own father’s doing. 
“You have made a grave mistake, speaking out like that in front of the guards. You have made it look like I have raised an uncontrollable youngest daughter who does not listen to her father, the King,” He scolds, his voice firm. However, even you know this tone well. His earlier mask was removed. He didn’t sound like the King, he sounded like your father. 
“I’m sorry,” You genuinely say. You want to say more, but you don’t. You could say so much more. 
Your father waits for a second, looking at you expectantly. “Well? Is that it?”
You burst. 
“You’re right, you didn’t raise a daughter like that. You raised a daughter who is compassionate and cares for others and doesn’t dismiss the people of her kingdom when there are so clearly asking for help,” You breathe out. Your chest feels lighter as if you had just let out a secret. Finally, you felt like you were working towards something. 
The King thinks for a few seconds, clearing his throat to break the silence. 
“I’m trusting you with this. You have one shot. Any further disrespect from you or him will not be tolerated.” 
-
“No.”
“Sunwoo,” You start, ready to beg. You hold onto one of the bars to crouch on the floor opposite his cell. It was dirty and grimy, but you didn’t care. You can bribe the guards monitoring you to not report this back to the King later.
“You do not know me well enough to address me,” He plainly says, staring into your eyes. Seeing him up close, he was even prettier than before. He was still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, but if you could pull this off, he would be able to completely transform not just his wardrobe, but his life. 
“Fine,” You huff. “Sunwoo-ssi. Mr. Kim. All I ask is for you to think about it. If you don’t agree, he will execute you and this time it won’t just be a bluff or a cover-up.”
Sunwoo straightens his back that’s leaning against the wall. He uses one of his hands to push himself forward so he was sitting directly in front of you. If the bars weren’t between you, you would be merely centimeters away. You can feel his cool breath fan against your face. 
“I will not work for the same kingdom that has put me and my entire family in the situation that we are in. My parents are 6 feet underground because your majesty could not get his head out of his ass for longer than 5 seconds to realize that his people were dying.” His eyes blaze. “Kill me. Hang me. I do not care, but I will never stoop so low as to pretend that I care for the wellbeing of the King.”
You pause, taking in his words. You didn’t realize just how deep his hatred ran for the King. You almost wanted to lash out and explain how your father was nothing like that, but as soon as you took another look at Sunwoo’s face, you couldn’t do it. 
“You can leave now,” Sunwoo tilts his head towards the guards as if you couldn’t find the exit on your own. 
“I know I’m not the future queen, but I have influence,” You reason, sliding your hand down the bar and steading yourself by placing a hand on the ground. Your calves were starting to burn from crouching, but at this point, it didn’t even matter. “I will talk to the King and Yuri. Tell me what you want to be changed and I will help.”
Sunwoo stares at your face, his eyes searching for something. You feel your heart stop beating when he grabs onto the bars of the cell, his left hand just above yours. He scoots even closer, making direct eye contact with you. 
“Why?”
You blink. 
“Why what?”
“Why help me?”
You find it getting harder to think with Sunwoo’s proximity, so you shuffle a bit further before taking a breath. Sunwoo quirks an eyebrow at you, amused. 
“Well, because I want to,” You state simply. “What good are we doing if there are people suffering in our kingdom?”
You notice a quick flash of surprise pass Sunwoo’s face before he responds. “And what about my sister? Right now she’s staying with a friend, but she can’t stay there forever.”
“She can stay here as well. I am not sure of her interests but if she likes to bake, she could always help the bakers with me or she could help you with your daily tasks. You can bring her here yourself.”
Sunwoo seems appeased by the idea, knowing that there would be a safe place for the two of them to stay. 
“But–” You begin, causing Sunwoo to immediately put his guard back up. His face becomes stoic as if the condition you were going to say would counteract everything good you were offering. “I convinced my father to let you go and come back on your own, but that doesn’t mean people won’t be watching your every step. You could–I mean you could try–to flee, but it won’t work. This is all I could do for you and I’m asking you to take advantage of it. The alternative will always be better than death. For you and for your sister.”
Sunwoo’s hands drop from the bars at your words, almost appalled by your honesty. You can even hear the guards shift at your admission. There was no reason for you to be trying so hard for someone you didn’t know, but there was something different about Sunwoo. He could teach you a great number of things, about parts of the kingdom you had never seen before. He could initiate actual change. Whether he knew it or not, his life was worth something greater than simply surviving. 
You rise, dusting your hands off on your dress. 
When you turn to leave, you hear Sunwoo loud and clear. 
“Thank you, Princess Y/N.”
-
Sunwoo comes back. He comes back three days later with one bag in his left hand and his sister’s hand in his right. You try not to breathe out a sigh of relief but it escapes your lips when you watch him enter past the front gates (which you definitely weren’t watching from your window.)
“I can not believe Father let you do this,” Chae mutters under her breath, working her way down the stairs in front of you. You would have pushed her just strong enough for Hyunjae to break her fall if it wasn’t for your guilty conscience.
Even Hyunjae lets out a hum of agreement as if it was absurd for your father to grant such a request. 
“Believe it or not, he has a lot to offer,” You begin, ready to defend Sunwoo. 
“Like the stolen items?” Chae snorts, immediately smiling when she sees Hyunjae smile at her attempt at a joke. 
“He already returned those,” You stop when Chae does, realizing that Sunwoo would be coming in any moment now. It mildly infuriated you that he would have to see people who belittled him upon his entrance. “Also, I would refrain from speaking ill of him around him,” You fade into a whisper, “Because who knows what could fall from my lips in front of Hyunjae.”
Chae gasps but it’s swept into the air as the doors to the main entrance of the castle open. Though Sunwoo came in with no guards accompanying him, as you promised, that didn’t mean that they didn’t stiffen in his presence. 
Sunwoo’s younger sister, Nabi, from what you gathered, seemed to display a million emotions on her face at once. It went from awe to fear to wonder within just seconds. When her eyes land upon you, her eyes widen a little. 
“Sunwoo,” You breathe out, unintentionally forgetting there were people all around you. You clear your throat. “Sunwoo, I am glad you made it back safely.”
Even though Nabi was years younger than you, you barely have to lower yourself to speak to her. She seemed to have the same genetics as her brother–tall, black curly hair, tan skin. The similarities were uncanny. 
“And who might this be?” You ask, wanting Nabi to introduce herself. 
“Nabi. My name is Nabi,” She speaks clearly, her head lifting in confidence. “And you are Princess Y/N.”
You nod your head in assurance, smiling lightly. Nabi smiles back as well, but your attention drifts to Sunwoo. An unfamiliar look crosses his eyes before he shakes his head as if he was breaking himself from a trance. 
“I asked her what she would want to do if we decided to come here and she said she would love to pick up baking. I recall you saying you spent some time in the kitchen because you liked to bake as well so I am sure the two of you will get to know more of each other.”
Nabi shakes her head vigorously, agreeing with him on something that seemed only apparent to her. “My brother told me that the one with long hair and darker eyes was you and that you were the kind one who liked to bake,” She continues to nod, leaning in closer to you so only Sunwoo and you could hear her. “He said the one with short hair was mean and to stay away from her.”
“Nabi,” Sunwoo scolds, pulling her closer to his side as if you would take her away from him because she spoke ill of your sister (not that it wasn’t true.)
You glance over at Chae who was watching your every move. At this point, it was just the guards, Sunwoo, Nabi, Chae, and you left. Hyunjae left a bit ago, probably to inform the King of Sunwoo’s arrival. 
“What did she say?” Chae immediately stiffens, realizing that you were talking about her. 
“She was commenting on how pretty all of us were. She said she liked your hair,” You immediately reply, smiling at Chae. A little white lie won’t hurt. Even Nabi must sense not to correct you because she shyly peeks up from behind Sunwoo and simply nods. 
“Oh,” Chae breathes out. “Thank you.”
When the silence begins to settle in, you reach out for Nabi’s hand, gesturing for her to come forward. “Come, I will show you where you will be staying.”
“Nonsense,” Jacob steps forward, holding his hand out. “I can guide them to their rooms.”
“I will show them,” You tightly smile up at Jacob. Though Jacob was a kind guard, you can’t help but remember the time that he spewed out information about Sunwoo’s past in front of the King for him to use against Sunwoo. 
Sunwoo’s grip on his bag tightens but he gently releases it once Jacob lowers his hand. 
“Yes, Princess Y/N.”
Nabi settles her hand into yours as you begin to lead the way to where the two of them would be staying. The castle itself was gigantic and although you found yourself lucky enough that your father allowed Sunwoo and Nabi to stay here and redeem themselves by working in the castle, he was still wary about Sunwoo’s proximity to your rooms. He pushed for Sunwoo and Nabi to each have their own rooms in a different wing of the castle. 
“This place is so big,” Nabi murmurs. You look back to watch her expression and it seems Sunwoo looks over at her too because a wide grin adorns his face. 
“Wait until you see the kitchen,” You reply. You hear her shriek from behind you. 
Sunwoo laughs and it immediately brings a smile to your face. What a beautiful laugh. 
After a few more minutes of walking, you were brought to the rooms Sunwoo and Nabi would occupy. 
“This is Nabi’s room,” You open the door, and Nabi immediately lights up. 
“Sunwoo,” She stays by his side, tugging at his sleeve. “Am I dreaming?”
“No, Nabi,” Sunwoo chuckles. “Go, check it out.”
Nabi runs into the room, running her hands along everything. The dresser, the bed, the desks. When she opens her dresser, a few dresses litter the inside. 
“I was not informed of your size so I gathered some old ones from the three of us. We should be able to get you tailored pretty quickly so everything will fit you.” You pause, “Well, unless you do not wish to dress in clothes like this because I know they can be quite uncomfortable if–”
Sunwoo's hand brushes your arm and you immediately stop talking. 
“This is great. Say thank you, Nabi,” Sunwoo calls out to his sister who is off in her own world. 
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Nabi nearly shouts, taking out a purple dress that used to be Yuri’s when she was younger. “Don’t you believe this would look amazing on me?”
“Go wash up and try it on,” You encourage, nodding your head toward the bathroom. Nabi gleams in response. “I will show Sunwoo where he is staying in the meantime. He is just across from your room so he won’t be far. Call for me if you need any help, alright?” 
After Nabi basically kicks the two of you out of her room to utilize her new bathroom and try on her new wardrobe, you close the door to give her some privacy. You turn to face Sunwoo but he doesn’t back away, keeping you trapped against the door. 
“Your room is just–” You try, lifting your hand to gesture to the door behind him. Sunwoo stops you once again, placing his hand on your elbow. 
“I might regret saying this, but you were right. Nabi, she–” Sunwoo pauses, looking over at the shut door. “She deserves something like this. She deserves something good and I am grateful for you giving me–us, a second chance.”
He glances back over at you and you pause at the sight of his eyes. His once stormy eyes were brighter. Lighter, even. Like beneath the storm peeked just the smallest ray of sunshine. There was something new in his eyes. 
Hope.
-
Nabi was an extremely passionate baker. 
That did not mean she was any good. 
"How was I supposed to know how much sugar it needed?" Nabi wails, putting her head in your lap when you sit for a break. It had been approximately one week since Sunwoo and Nabi had arrived and four days since Nabi began baking with you.
 You hadn’t seen much of Sunwoo around except in passing. After you showed Sunwoo his room, he almost made it his mission not to interact with your family, especially the King. He kept his distance, still upholding his responsibilities. And because the King had a certain vendetta against him, there wasn’t a second where he wasn’t running from one side of the castle to the other, delivering items, restocking cabinets, or even cleaning after meals. 
He always took two meals into his room, the other for Nabi who also didn’t eat with the other workers. You wanted to ask Nabi about it, but she didn’t bring it up so you didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. However, sooner or later, you needed to talk to Sunwoo. You needed more information on where to start helping the area he was from.
“Nabi, how did you manage to get flour all over you?” You ask, giggling when noticing the absolute mess Nabi had made. Haknyeon, the main baker, left the kitchen as yours for the night and you wanted to give Nabi some extra help so she could be more comfortable in the kitchen. However, it was evident that more than a night’s work was needed before she could get there. 
“Well, looks like Nabi is enjoying herself,” You pause at the voice. 
“Sunwoo! Sunwoo! Look what Y/N made,” Nabi gleams, pointing at the banana pudding you made earlier with Nabi. In the process, flour falls from her hands, littering the floor. 
“Nabi, can you please wash up,” You ask, reaching for a couple of towels to clean the mess up. 
“Let me,” Sunwoo immediately steps forward, taking the towels from your hands before you can argue. 
“Sunwoo, you have to try the pudding Y/N made. I tried to follow the steps and it definitely did not taste the same. Maybe the bananas were better in the other batch.”
“Yes,” Sunwoo elongates the end of his word. “That must be it.”
Sunwoo gets up from the ground after cleaning the mess. For someone who had been avoiding your presence entirely, he didn’t show any indifference. 
“Thank you,” You nod your head at Sunwoo and he smiles. “You should really have some of the pudding.” 
Sunwoo pauses. 
It was impossible to tell what was running through his head. He almost seemed uncomfortable being offered pudding. 
“Here,” You offer, picking up the pudding and taking a spoon of it, holding it to his mouth. “I know I made it, but I promise in my completely unbiased and honest opinion that it is really good.”
A small smile appears on Sunwoo’s face but he still appears hesitant. 
“You don’t have to–” You begin, lowering the spoon. Your lips begin to turn downwards and you’re ready to spin at your heels, highly embarrassed. 
Before you can completely lower it, Sunwoo lowers his head and wraps his lips around the spoon. Your mind blanks for a fraction of a second as you watch Sunwoo’s lips move against the curve of the spoon, pulling away. 
Even though he backed away, the image of Sunwoo’s closed eyes in your near proximity remained. He must notice too, because he lets out a little laugh, snapping you out of your daze. You finally lower the spoon. 
Nabi breaks the silence, her hands finally clean. 
“Well, did you like it?”
You turn around, your cheeks flamed. Oh, that was so embarrassing. It would be surprising if you ever showed your face to Sunwoo again. 
“It was very good,” The smirk on Sunwoo’s face was evident. God, you would rather he go back to ignoring you. How he went from bashful to confident in seconds was beyond you. “Being fed from the hands of a pretty princess, my how my luck has changed.”
Your eyes widen. You decide to make yourself busy organizing the leftover pudding cups. Not that they needed to be organized, but no one needed to know that. As long as your back was to Sunwoo, you were safe. 
“You think Y/N is pretty?” Nabi asks, taking a bite out of a pudding cup she picks up from your tray. 
“Of course, Nabi. I think Y/N is very pretty. Don’t you?” Sunwoo talks as if you weren’t in the room and you’re somewhat glad because your face was burning so brightly that if he was addressing you, he might think you were having a heat stroke. 
“She is very pretty. Is that why you told me that–” Nabi gets cut off, Sunwoo clearing his throat loudly. 
“Now is a very good time for me to make my way to bed. Nabi, you should go to bed soon as well.”
Before Sunwoo can move, you speak up. “Actually,” You begin, “I needed to speak with you.”
Your back was still to Sunwoo so you couldn’t tell his reaction nor even begin to predict what was running through his mind. 
“About what?” Sunwoo’s voice goes back to his ‘I refuse to feel any emotion or acknowledge the fact that I’m living here’ tone.
“I wanted to hear your input, you know, about somewhere we can start. To help the others,” You turn. 
You watch him let out a breath of relief. 
“Tomorrow, at noon. Can you meet me in the gardens?”
Sunwoo hesitates. “I have–”
“I’ll take care of it. You have the day off tomorrow. We need to begin planning,” You smile at him. A genuine smile so he knows you’re being serious.
“Alright,” He breathes out. He repeats, “Alright.”
-
You arrived 15 minutes before you were supposed to. You told Sunwoo to arrive at noon, but when you arrived, you cursed yourself for coming earlier. It was starting to get extremely cold out, and you wished you had chosen somewhere indoors to have this talk with Sunwoo, but no place was as beautiful as the castle gardens. 
That, and after you got permission from your father to speak to Sunwoo, he told you to do it outside so the guests wouldn’t see the interaction. You wanted to say that if the royal guards cared so much at seeing you talk to Sunwoo, they should take a good look at–
“Princess,” Sunwoo greets, causing you to turn around. You immediately flush, or your cheeks were already pink because of the cold, you couldn’t tell.
“Hello,” You greet, sitting down on the bench now that he was there. “Come, take a seat,” You gesture. 
He takes a seat on the same bench as you, but you don’t fail to notice how it’s on the opposite end. You found yourself grateful that he wasn’t any closer. 
“So,” You begin, turning your head towards him. “I was thinking you could tell me about your childhood, or the way you grew up. Or if you don’t want to tell me, you could tell me about what you saw others going through. I just want to know the best way I can help,” You sincerely say. 
Sunwoo nods his head, listening intently to your every word. It takes him a minute of contemplating before he begins. 
“Before my parents died, sorry–” He pauses, clearing his throat. “We were never well off, even before my parents died. My father worked in the fields as a farmer and my mother couldn’t work because after having Nabi, she became extremely weak. Almost as if breathing was enough to make her life tiresome.”
You press your lips into a straight line. Sunwoo refused to look at you, staring at the grass as he spoke. 
“I tried to help as much as I could, but even then it wasn’t enough. One day, my father came back from the fields, coughing terribly. We thought it was just a cold or, sometimes, when he smoked cigars with his friends, his lungs couldn’t take it but he would recover within days. Apparently, there was a disease spreading among the field workers. My father was one of the first to catch it. You don’t understand Princess Y/N,” Sunwoo turns to you, a wild rage in his eyes. “It spread like wildfire. We all caught it. Somehow, it didn’t hit the younger children as hard. After I recovered, I nursed Nabi back but within days, both of my parents were just–Dead. Gone,” Sunwoo’s voice cracks. “Your King–Your father–you know what he did? He called in for more field workers and burned the bodies.”
Sunwoo’s heaving at this point. God, you want to reach out so badly. Put a hand across his for comfort, but there was nothing you could do to make something like this okay. To know this was happening–to know that your father knew this was happening. 
“I had to watch them burn my parent's bodies. I was only fifteen! Fifteen for God’s sake!” Sunwoo gets louder, and not before long, there are tears falling down his face. 
“Sorry, sorry,” He repeats, wiping his face with his sleeve. He turned back so you couldn’t face him. 
“Do not apologize,” You whisper. Your heart breaks at his admission. You feel tears begin to form in your eyes but push them away. This was something Sunwoo had to carry on his own for years. It would be selfish to cry. “Sunwoo–” You frown. You watched Sunwoo’s shoulders slump. 
You scrambled for ways to console him. “I–It’s–”
“It’s okay,” He breathes heavily, turning back to face you. “It was years ago. But if you wanted to know why I–Why I loathe every fiber of the King’s being. Even if he’s provided me with this life, none of it would have ever happened if the conditions he made people work under were safe and provided people with proper care,” A broken smile reaches his face. “You know the rest. I couldn’t care for Nabi and work and still provide us shelter and food and water. So I stole. Then I sold it. And now I’m here.”
His eyes were swollen, and this time you did reach out. You brush a stray hair out of his face and cup his cheek in the process. Another tear rolls by and you wipe it away. 
“I know I can’t make this okay, but I will find a way to help. And I will get you out of here. I know how much it must hurt living here and taking orders from–” You pause, not wanting to speak of him. “Give me some time to come up with something.”
Sunwoo chuckles, taking the hand that rested on his cheek into his hands. “Believe it or not, but this isn’t the worst place I have had to live. Not to mention, Nabi loves it here. I don’t see the King often. I tend to get my orders from Sangyeon and all he does is speak about Yuri. I have you to thank for where we are now and though I would take back what happened in a heartbeat, there are worse fates out there. And you were right,” He whispers. “I was very close to becoming subject to one of those. So thank you. For everything.”
You nod, your cheeks flushing once again. Sunwoo’s effects on you were nearly instantaneous. 
“You have the rest of the day off, to do as you please. I am sorry you don’t receive more of these days. I know my father runs you rampant.”
A small smile appears on his face. He plays with your fingers that reside in his lap. “I am almost thankful for it. It keeps my mind off things. I also run into you every blue moon, which is most definitely the highlight of my days.”
Your eyebrows furrow, confused. “Me? You avoid me as if your life depends on it, Sunwoo.”
This time. Sunwoo appears confused, tilting his head to the side. You try not to notice that he was still holding your hand. 
“Trust me, Princess, I am never avoiding you. In fact, I try to seek you out more days than not.”
Your head falls forward and your lips part. He had to be playing with you. 
“Sunwoo. That can not possibly be true. I mean, every time I even look at you you turn your head the other way.”
Sunwoo’s cheeks darken at your words, and you immediately wish you could take them back. 
“Oh,” He breathes out. “That.” He lets go of your hand.
“I am sorry, I did not mean to embarrass you or–,” You shake your head, looking for the right words. “You are in no way inclined to look at me, I mean–I do not mean that you have to acknowledge me, besides that sounds absolutely outrageous–”
Sunwoo cuts you off. “You intimidate me,” He admits. 
“Intimidate you?” You immediately say, even more confused than before. “Me? I would get it if you said Chaewon intimidated you or even Yuri considering she is in line to become queen, but… Me?”
A shy smile appears on his face. “I can hold myself together just fine with your sisters. Yuri is even kind to me. But…” Sunwoo trails off. “I want to look at you, and trust me, I do. But when you look back–”
Sunwoo gets interrupted by a guard, calling for you. You grimace, wishing you had more time with him. You wanted to know what he had to say even though you had a feeling where he was going. When you looked at him, it always felt like time stopped. Like you were transfixed by the stars in his eyes. 
You begin to get up and Sunwoo watches your every movement as you do. Before you leave, you faintly touch his shoulder. 
“Sunwoo,” You murmur. He looks up at you. “Thank you.”
The stars in his eyes make a reappearance. 
-
It felt like the darkest night of the year. Everyone knew why. When it felt like it got dark much earlier and sunlight rarely filtered in, it could only mean one thing. 
It was snowing. 
You watch the flakes begin to fall from your window. Even though it was dark out and many had already gone to bed, you couldn’t help but watch the snow. Winter was your favorite time of the year, the snow reminding you of the memories you have of playing outside with your siblings and parents before everything changed. Before Yuri had to worry about becoming Queen or Chae’s only focus in life being Hyunjae. Before your mother died. 
If the timeline added up, you realized that Sunwoo’s parents died right after your mother did. You couldn’t relate to Sunwoo in many ways, but you saw the way your father grieved when your mother died. He became angry all of a sudden. To everyone. The last thing you wanted to do was justify his actions, but it pained you to remember him like that. But it also pained you to see Sunwoo the way you did this past week. God, as if your life couldn’t get any messier. 
You had spent the entire week in your room. Contemplating. Thinking. Slowly, a plan began to form in your head. Before you brought anything to your father, you wanted a full-fledged plan ready, all the way down to the minor details. He would have to listen, especially if you got Yuri in on it. 
Something pulls at your heart as you continue to stare outside. It had been years since you last played in the snow. It was with your mother. She would throw a mean snowball. The corner of your lips lifts up at the memory. 
Before you can think it through, your feet are leading you out your door. Yuri would be asleep, an early morning ahead of her. Chae was out of the question considering you could already hear her complaints run through your head. There was only one person you wanted to see anyway. 
When you finally get to the other side of the castle, you raise your hand, ready to knock. It stays there for a second as you contemplate knocking on his door. There was a lot that could go wrong. But, the possibility of him agreeing made your heart surge with hope. 
You knock on his door. 
When a few seconds pass, you realize he isn’t coming out. You frown, disappointed. He was probably asleep. You turn at your heel, beginning to walk away from his door. 
You freeze when you hear the door handle wiggle. 
“Princess?” Sunwoo calls out, confused. 
When you turn, the first thing you realize is that his chest is bare. You control yourself by looking nowhere but his eyes. You did notice the trousers that seemed to be put on in a rush. 
“Sorry–I–” He seemed anything but sorry with a small grin on his face as he watched your eyes accidentally drift below his neck once more. “I was not aware you were at my door. Is something wrong?”
“It’s snowing,” You dumbly say, remaining outside his door.
“I–” He pauses, his eyebrows furrowing. “I know, I saw.”
There was a moment of silence, causing Sunwoo to speak. “Is there something wrong with it snowing? Do you not like snow?”
“I love the snow.” 
Sunwoo lets out a laugh at your answer, realizing you were still mildly in a trance. You shake your head lightly, hating the hold Sunwoo’s stomach had on you. It wasn’t your fault, really, considering his chest was extremely defined and it’s not like you didn’t not expect it to be defined but it was much better than how you imagined in your head and his arms also looked really–
“Do you wish to go outside with me?” You blurt. 
“Now?” Sunwoo asks, unsure. He leans up against his door, rubbing his left eye. 
“No.” You immediately say realizing he must definitely think you’re absurd if he knew you wanted to go play in the snow well past midnight. “I meant– Later..? Or the day after. Anytime. You can. If you want to. That is.”
You feel the earth begin to crumble below you as Sunwoo’s grin transforms into a full-blown smile. “Let me put on more clothes.”
Sunwoo closes the door and you release a breath of air, slouching now that he could no longer see you. 
“So embarrassing,” You whine to yourself, shuffling to the wall next to his door to lean your forehead against it. “You are so embarrassing. It is a shock that you are allowed outside of your room. In fact, you are the furthest thing from royalty this kingdom has ever seen. You–”
The door opens to Sunwoo’s room and you back away acting as if the last minute never happened. 
“Ready?” He asks, holding out his hand for you. 
You smile, letting your worries leave your body. “I will have to lead the way.” You wanted to take Sunwoo through an exit that was unknown to many. 
“Lead the way, Princess.”
When your boots first make contact with the snow, you can’t help but smile at the crunch. Outside, the landscape was even prettier than through your window. There was a certain glow that twined the sky because of the snow. You wanted to stick your tongue out like you did when you were a kid and feel the snowflakes stick to your tongue. 
You turn to Sunwoo and softly smile, noticing the awe on his face. 
It isn’t long until you venture further, feeling the snow brush up against your fingers as you sift through it. 
Whether it was the fact that everyone was asleep but the two of you or that you were playing in the snow like little children, neither you nor Sunwoo could stop laughing. 
“That is a terrible attempt at an angel,” Sunwoo laughs, pointing at the ground. Underneath the moonlight, his eyes truly twinkled in a way that left you breathless. You couldn’t even bother to jab back at Sunwoo for making fun of the angel you drew on the ground with a stick. 
“Try this,” He begins, laying down on the ground. “My mother taught me this. If you just–” He wipes his hands back and forth on the ground and gets up. “Look, an angel.”
You tilt your head to the side, furrowing your eyebrows yet smiling at his creation nonetheless. “It does look like an angel. At least, it does when I tilt my head and then close my eyes.” 
Sunwoo gasps, twirling around so he was face-to-face with you. “Take it back!”
“Absolutely not,” You giggle, realizing he was inching closer to you. You run the other way, knowing his intentions. 
“Get back over here!” Sunwoo laughs, running after you. You attempt to run through the snow however your nightgown made it extremely difficult to do so. Even though you were used to the cold, you can’t help but shiver as you stomp through the snow. The impending presence behind you was definitely a factor.
The side of the wing you were outside of resided for guests, so thankfully no one could hear you shriek as Sunwoo grabbed your hand, causing you to twirl around.
Sunwoo lets go of your hand way too quickly for your liking and you can’t help but frown when he does. 
“Caught you,” He whispers, smiling up at you through his lashes. “An apology is definitely in order. My angel was beautiful.”
You stutter, feeling panic begin to arise at his proximity. He looked so beautiful underneath the moon that it was almost criminal. He brought his hand up, brushing his curls out of his face. “Beautiful, yes.” You breathe out. 
When Sunwoo laughs, you’re almost offended.
“Stop!” You complain, pushing him slightly. “You are so unfair. And–And–Stop doing that!” You turn around, crossing your arms across your chest and frowning. 
Sunwoo ceases laughing after a moment and he gently holds your elbow, nudging you. “Stop doing what?”
“Your eyes,” You move forward, out of his grasp. You flail your arms out, annoyed. “You–Your eyes have–You always–They are pretty. And you look at me and they sparkle.” 
You cover your hands with your face, realizing you were making absolutely no sense and were definitely making a fool out of yourself. You feel him move from behind you, his body heat traveling in front of you. 
He takes one of your hands off your face first, bringing it down and holding it. He repeats the same motion with your other hand. 
He does it again, that stupid thing with his eyes where they twinkle with something that you just couldn’t put your finger on. It was infuriating because there was no reason for you to find this grown man cute but, you do. He was cute but also beautiful but also pretty and it was infuriating. 
“Sparkle?” He questions, a grin on his face. “What does that mean?”
You begin to shy away, thinking he’s making fun of you again but the tilt of his head and the glint in his eyes makes you understand that he’s being genuine. 
“Stars, in your eyes,” You try to explain but it comes off as more of a question than a statement. 
He hums, nodding his head. He lets go of your right hand, brushing a hair that fell in front of your eyes. You pause, holding your breath as if you were afraid to move. 
“If they s-sparkle?” You nod your head, encouraging him with the word. “It is because I am looking at something so bright.” He smiles, letting go of your other hand as well. 
Before you’re even given a second to breathe, Sunwoo backs away. “It is getting colder, you should go inside and get some sleep.”
You nod your head, hoping that he can’t hear the rapid beating of your heart. 
You sneak back in, Sunwoo diverging from your path when he gets to his room, leaving with a lazy smile and a quiet goodbye. When you arrive at your room, you change out of your clothes and lie in your bed, a smile on your face the entire time. 
-
Books littered your bed. You continued to flip through them hoping for something that you could make for Yuri’s birthday that was coming up. There were plenty of cooking books in your library but you had flipped through most of them already with it being a tradition that you bake something every year for your sister’s birthdays. Between figuring out a plan to bring up to your father and Yuri’s birthday, you’ve been extremely busy.
You groan, hitting your head against the bed as you sat on the ground, closing yet another book. When you hear a knock at the door, you call for them to come in, helping yourself up off the ground. 
“Princess Y/N.”
You visibility stutter, looking up to see that Sunwoo was the one who had entered your room. 
“Sunwoo,” You breathe out. “Hello.”
“Hello,” He greets, peeking behind you and smiling at the disaster that was your bed. “Doing some light reading?”
A blush arises on your face. “Well, I have to figure out what to bake for Yuri’s birthday. She’s having a ball in a couple of days and I was going to choose something to serve at the party.”
Sunwoo nods his head, a spark of realization running across his face. “Your father sent a letter earlier? I believe. I was supposed to retrieve it.”
You blink, trying to remember what he was talking about. It didn’t help that as usual, Sunwoo looked devastatingly handsome. He was simply wearing a white tunic, but there was something about the shirt that made him stand out. 
“Oh! Yes, it’s right here,” You turn, aiming for your nightstand before you realize that if you give the letter to him right away, he would leave and you wouldn’t get to speak with him. “Actually, I was thinking earlier.”
“Well that can not be good,” Sunwoo laughs. You roll your eyes, turning back around to face him. You step a little closer.
“This is something that may be of interest to you, Kim Sunwoo,” You pause, smiling at him fondly. “I have a plan.”
“What about?” He questions. 
“I had an idea for helping the farmers and the others in your area,” You pause, waiting to continue. When he gives an approving nod, you begin. 
“I wanted to start with providing the extra produce and food to those who need it. Just as something small. And then, maybe building a few safe houses of sorts with extra food and water. Someplace people can just stay if they need it. With an area for people who need medical attention as well. I was thinking–” You move your way around Sunwoo. You can’t help but be animated, your hands gesturing the extent of your plan. “I was thinking we start by hiring people who need work to run it along with some of our own staff to ensure everything’s being run smoothly. And then others can help farm the food for the shelters and help build them too. Obviously being paid for their work because it would feed into our own economy but also help them and–”
Sunwoo’s smiling so wide that you have to stop yourself from talking. You must be making a fool out of yourself, yet he doesn’t stop you once or laugh. 
“Sorry, I haven’t discussed this with anyone yet. I just started thinking about it. But, I think it’s a place to start,” You breathe out. 
Sunwoo takes a step forward, his hand brushing up against yours. “I think it’s a great place to start.”
It was almost like you were oblivious to the fact that your heart was beating so fast in Sunwoo’s presence but you were so aware now that it nearly hurt to think about it. Sunwoo made no further advances, instead staying rooted in his spot with that stupid loving wide smile on his face and you’re sure if he didn’t back away now, you were going to do something stupid like kiss it right off his face. 
“I didn’t think you had it in you,” Sunwoo says, breaking the silence. 
You furrow your eyebrows at the admission. He didn’t think you had it in you to come up with something like this? You promised you would help and you hadn’t even done much to actually help yet.
“Your standards for what you think I can do must be really low, then.” Though you say it jokingly, Sunwoo must notice the hint of insecurity behind it because he searches your eyes before taking a step forward and taking your hand in his. 
There was no way you were going to make it out alive from this.
“That’s not what I meant. I think you are capable of great things, but I have to admit that you don’t fit the perceptions I had of you in the beginning.”
“And what were they?” You question, tilting your head to the side. Sunwoo squeezes your hand as if to assure you. You wonder if his heart was as beating as fast as yours. 
“How about I tell you what I think of you now?” Sunwoo takes a step closer, his warm breath fanning against your face. Your eyes widen at his proximity and Sunwoo must sense your unease because he squeezes your hand again before grinning. 
“What do you think of me now?” You whisper.
“I think you’re not what you seem. I think people expect you to be docile and obedient and sit there and look pretty. And oh, how well you do the latter,” Sunwoo breathes out, letting go of your hand to trail his finger up your arm. It’s the most you’ve ever heard him say at once and you don’t interrupt him, not even the goosebumps arising on your skin diverting your attention. “But there is so much life in you that it is physically impossible for you to keep it contained. You burn, Princess. You burn so bright that I think it’s stupid that I ever thought differently.”
“Sunwoo,” His name comes out shaky from your lips as if you couldn’t get ahold of it properly. So you repeat his name, firmer this time. 
“Hmm,” He hums, his eyes taking in every part of your face. 
“What are you doing?” You blurt out, mentally cursing yourself when Sunwoo takes a step back, assessing the situation.
“Ah,” He exhales. “I’m sorry. I seemed to have crossed a line that I shouldn’t have.” 
Sunwoo continues to back up, in clear disarray. 
“Sunwoo,” You call again as he turns his back to you, ready to leave your bedroom. “I never–I never said you were crossing a line.”
Sunwoo expels a breath at that, turning back around relieved. You shoot him a small smile because, in the end, you understood where he was coming from. Way too quickly did Sunwoo infiltrate your thoughts, and how badly you wanted him to cross much more than just this imaginary line he had in his head. But before he could do that, you needed something definite. Something that proved Sunwoo wanted you just as much as you wanted him. 
Sunwoo chastizes himself. “I seem to lose myself around–” He pauses. “Pretty. Faces.” He grimaces at his own words, and you were glad that even Sunwoo could make a fool out of himself. 
You let out a laugh. 
“I thought I was more than just a pretty face?”
This time, Sunwoo laughs. A real laugh, one that leaves his cheeks littered with a pink blush. 
A sudden knock disrupts your time with Sunwoo. You want to open the door and tell whoever it is to dare and knock on your door again, but Sunwoo backs away. He picks up the letter from the nightstand before looking at you one more time. 
“Just so you know,” He pauses, smiling. “My heart’s burning too. For different reasons, of course.”
-
It was becoming a regular thing for you to see Sunwoo around. He made frequent trips to the kitchen, trying out what you and Nabi had created. Nabi was also slowly getting better, and her presence in the kitchen less of a hazard. Now, you could joke with her about how truly terrible she was in the beginning. With Yuri’s birthday in two days, the two of you worked diligently in getting the pastries ready and they were finally topped and refrigerated. 
It was a long day and your father was out, leaving just the three siblings to eat dinner. The guards never ate with you and neither did the staff, which left you to sit as you watched Sangyeon and Hyunjae talk to your sisters from the sidelines as you ate. 
Today, however, you invited Nabi and Sunwoo to eat with you guys. Sunwoo was hesitant at first, but Nabi begged at his side, wanting to see what the dining hall looked like. Sunwoo could never say no to Nabi, which you were now regretting as you all sat at the table. 
“Nabi, how is baking going?” Yuri asks, a small smile on her face. Though Yuri rarely acknowledged Sunwoo’s presence and Chae visibly glared at him every time he walked by, the two of them adored Nabi. 
“Good! I truly enjoy it so much.” The smile on Nabi’s face is enough to get you to ease up. 
“You know how I told you I was looking into something you can do in your free time? Well, I’ve been speaking with the King about getting you some educational lessons as well when you’re not baking. What do you think about that?” 
Nabi gasps in excitement and you’re glad that there was someone who cared for Nabi in the same way that you do. You were unaware that Yuri was encouraging Nabi when nobody was looking.
Even Sunwoo sends a grateful smile aimed at Yuri. She shyly smiles back. 
“Well, as long as we’re focusing our effort on Nabi, I think our resources are allocated in a beneficial manner.” There’s a tone in Chae’s voice that has you on high alert. You could tell where this was going.
Sunwoo doesn’t say anything but you can see his jaw clench as he takes another bite of his bread. 
You now wish that he was closer than he was. The one problem with having a large dining space was that there were enough chairs for nearly a village. You sat next to Yuri while Chae was on the other side of her. Sunwoo and Nabi sat opposite the three of you with Sunwoo directly across from you. 
You wished he was next to you so that you could console him better than a reassuring glance. You wanted to put your hand atop his or even intertwine his fingers with yours. Something that reinforced your presence. 
“It would be useless to spend time and money on an educator on someone who–Oh, I don’t know–dabbled in, thievery, for example.”
“Chae,” You snap, dropping your fork onto your plate. “Stop.”
“Oh, please.” She turns to you, rolling her eyes. “One would think you wouldn’t make the mistake of defending a thief twice. What kind of image are you portraying to your kingdom?”
“Can we please just enjoy our meal?” Yuri begins, annoyance laced in her tone.
You remain quiet, looking up. There’s a frown on Nabi’s face as she watches Chae. You glance over at Sunwoo. He seemed indifferent but you could clearly see the resentment in his eyes.
At your lack of commentary, she instigates once again. “Don’t tell me you feel something for this insipid–”
“That’s quite enough,” Hyunjae interrupts from behind Sunwoo, his position at the door wavering. He takes a step forward. “Chae.” A warning flashed across his face and Chae leans back into her chair, Hyunjae using her name in front of everyone being the thing that stopped her from continuing. 
Sunwoo abruptly gets up, motioning to Nabi. He doesn’t say a word but she gets the hint, getting up and taking her half-eaten plate with her. When they’re seconds out the door, you push up out of your chair as well. 
 “I have met dogs more behaved than you,” You mutter. “Next time I expect common courtesy and respect, I will make sure not to expect you to be there.” 
Once you leave the dining room, you search for Sunwoo but it doesn’t take long as he latches onto your wrist from where he was hiding behind the door. 
“Sunwoo, I’m so sorry–”
“Thank you.”
Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “For what?”
He lets go of your wrist, cupping your face. Your cheeks flush, overwhelmed by the sudden proximity.
“For defending me. For being so kind,” His eyes flicker between your eyes until they finally rest upon your lips. Like he knows that he shouldn’t, his eyes flutter closed, leaning his forehead against yours. Your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest. You were proud of being the one to elicit such a reaction from him, but you don’t think you’re faring any better. He seemed to be at war with his thoughts, trembling. “You make me so weak, Princess. So, so, weak.”
And as if the words freed him, he lets go of you, backing up. 
“So weak,” He repeats, one more time before turning around and retreating to his bedroom.
-
Yuri’s ball was tonight. Typically, you loved dances. They were a night where you could dance, laugh, and enjoy yourself without having too much attention on you. Tonight, however, as you prepped yourself for the ball, you couldn’t help but frown as you waited for the help you asked for to arrive. It was foolish, standing in front of the mirror with your corset wrapped around you, but you couldn’t tie the strings properly. This seemed like the breaking point of your week considering how yesterday went. You didn’t even want to think about what happened.
You talked to the King. To your father. As much as it felt wrong to retell Sunwoo’s story, you had to. The pain behind Sunwoo’s words was real and you had to make the King see. 
And so you did. 
He admitted his faults, which was surprising for you and for all of those present in the throne room that Friday evening. He ended the weekly meeting early after you declared his faults in front of your sisters and the guards, and as much as you thought he was going to yell at you when he dismissed the meeting, instead, he apologized. 
Which was shocking for all. 
But the most shocking part of it all was how easily the King realized your fondness for Sunwoo. Your mind flashes back to his words. 
“Y/N, I hope you do not take my mistakes in the past as a way for you to become careless. I have vowed to make things right, but you have grown too close to Sunwoo too quickly. Sunwoo was and always will be a thief. Until he makes amends for his mistakes and shows that he is capable of something greater, I do not want you speaking to him.”
You begin to interrupt him, but he cuts you off.
“I will look into your request, but if you wish for him to remain in this castle, you will distance yourself from him.”
It nearly repulsed you to listen to his words. The same Sunwoo everyone made out to be a villain was so gracious and kind and loving. You thought back to last night and how you didn’t want to think it in the moment, but you wanted him to kiss you. Just the thought of him doing that now after your father’s warning released a visceral reaction in your head–a pounding that you swear could only heal if Sunwoo actually put his lips against yours or if he once again, like last night, stuttered his weakness centimeters away from your face. 
A knock disrupts your thoughts.
“Come in.”
It was supposed to be a maid, one of your sisters, anyone but who actually knocked on the door. 
“Hello, princess,” Sunwoo grins. You can spot him from behind you in the mirror and you watch his grin falter as he scans your body. He acts, however, like yesterday didn’t happen. You don’t encourage him, letting yesterday fall to the back of your mind.
“I thought you were someone else,” You breathe out, holding tightly onto the strings of your corset behind your back. Your frown grows just a little deeper. Your hair was brushed off to the side, exposing your upper back. You felt trapped. If you made any sudden movements now, Sunwoo would think you were averting yourself from him which is the last thing you want right now. However, it’s what your father would want–would advise. His words repeat in your head. 
Being around Sunwoo was suffocating, and all you could think about was him. 
“Sorry to disappoint,” He scans your body once more, taking a step closer. 
“I needed–I need help,” You clear your throat. “With the strings.”
“Do you wish for me to do it?”
You contemplate all the possibilities of how this could go wrong. Someone could walk in. Your father could find out that you didn’t listen to him. 
The moment of hesitation causes Sunwoo to clear his throat, readying to exit. 
“Yes, please,” You murmur. 
You watch from the mirror as he makes his way forward, an undecipherable expression on his face. 
His hands brush up against your bare upper back, his hands straying from the strings. Starting from the top, he trailed his finger down your spine down to the beginning to where the strings started. Goosebumps arose on your skin and the only sound that could be heard in the room was the two of you breathing. 
“You must realize how hard it is for me to contain myself around you. You make it so hard for me.”
His fingers finally move to lace up the strings. 
When he pulls, you swallow, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. 
“What do you mean?” You whisper. 
When Sunwoo doesn’t answer, you don’t say anything else, almost afraid that if you said something, it would break whatever barrier he had up. Whatever walls you had surrounded yourself with. Somehow, you knew that if either of you made another move, there would be no going back. 
Your father’s words repeated in your head once again. 
When Sunwoo finishes, you realize that Sunwoo’s not moving. He was letting you decide where this was going next. You could either thank him and let him leave, or act on the one thought that has been plaguing your mind since you first saw Sunwoo. 
You turn, facing him. Your faces are mere inches apart. If you wanted to, you could lean in and finally kiss him. After all, it was your decision to make. Sunwoo was leaving it up to you. 
“If you wish for him to remain in this castle, you will distance yourself from him.”
“Thank you,” You say, looking into his eyes. His intentions were clear after those two words, backing away so he can head for the door. You wouldn’t have noticed his disappointment if not for the way he blinked before he moved away as if he was breaking out of a stupor. 
“Sunwoo,” You call out before he can turn his back to you. You had made up your mind to let him go, but it felt wrong with the way he was leaving.
“Don’t do this,” Sunwoo shakes his head. “You thanked me, now I’m leaving.” 
It was as if he was trying to convince himself that this was for the better. You didn’t want him to think you were toying with his emotions, but even you felt torn. 
“Kiss me,” You blurt out. It was the opposite of what you were supposed to be doing. You were supposed to distance yourself from him, but even now, the few feet he was standing away from you seemed too far for your liking. 
When Sunwoo doesn’t move, his eyes wide at your request, you plead, “Please.”
That has Sunwoo moving across the room, closing the distance between the two of you in seconds. He cups your face in his hands and crashes his lips against yours. This was what you had been waiting for. There was no other moment in your life that could be compared to the euphoria you felt when Sunwoo’s lips were on yours. 
He doesn’t waste any time, trailing his hands down from your face so that they’re on your hips. Your hands rested against his stomach, the same one you had been dreaming about since the night you knocked on his door and he answered, shirtless. 
He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. “Is this okay?”
You nod, kissing him again as he lowers his hands beneath your thighs, lifting you up. He pauses to bite your lip, causing you to gasp against him. He smiles, “Words, Princess.”
“Yes–Yes, this is okay,” You breathe out. 
Sunwoo lays you down on the bed and as he latches his lips onto your neck, you feel your breathing begin to heavy. His shirt rides up as he moves down to your collarbones, kissing down. You try so hard to contain yourself but feel your resolve begin to quickly crumble when you feel the first brush of his bare stomach against your hands. 
“Can I–” You begin, wanting to finally feel him, but Sunwoo cuts you off. 
“Yes,” He breathes out, kissing back up your neck so that he is face to face with you. “Yes.”
He’s kissing you again and you only wish he wasn’t so you could see where you were touching. You moved your hand further up, pushing his shirt higher until you could feel his chest against you. When you rake your nails against him, he parts, gasping. 
“We should–You should,” His eyes dart between yours and the door. “You should finish getting ready for the party. For Yuri.”
You furrow your eyebrows when he pulls his shirt back down, darting for the door. 
“Sunwoo–” You begin. 
“This was a bad idea,” He mumbles, exiting the door as quickly as he got up off you. 
When Chae comes to get you later, you claim to be sick. You make an appearance for the part of the ball where Yuri cuts her cake and tries the pastries you made for her, but when you retire to bed early, you truly do feel sick when seeing Sunwoo unbothered and attending to the guests. 
-
Distancing yourself from Sunwoo came easily after that. Not only because you were extremely embarrassed and didn’t want to face him, but because Sunwoo was nowhere to be seen. Nabi still spent time in the kitchen, finally honing in on becoming a pretty decent baker. She still talked to you as if nothing happened between you and Sunwoo, so you wonder if he even told her anything. It was better this way anyway considering if he did tell her something, it would most likely be to stop spending as much time with you. 
Your father was more than happy. It was almost like the two were inversely related–your happiness and how everyone else was doing. However, you couldn’t complain knowing that he finally began working on your request to help the villagers. The construction had started a couple of days ago and you and Sunwoo were supposed to ride into the site to see everything. You obviously weren’t going to be alone. The King had multiple precautions in place including putting Juyeon in charge of the visit with strict instructions. 
It didn’t matter. The last thing you wanted was to be alone with Sunwoo. 
“You look miserable,” Juyeon says once he enters the carriage. The ride would take approximately an hour, and you were grateful that you overheard your father telling Juyeon to take his place in the carriage. The smaller carriage typically seated two and although you felt bad for seating Sunwoo with the rest of the workers, you knew that even if you wanted to, the King would never allow Sunwoo to sit with you. 
“You have such a beautiful way with words to this day.” It had been a couple of months since you last saw Juyeon and although there was the awkward period of time where you guys tried dating, that never changed the friendship between you two.
“Y/N,” Juyeon states. The carriage finally begins to make its first movements forward and you hope that Juyeon won’t force you to speak with him for the entirety of the trip. 
“Yes?”
“Look at me.” Something about the way he said it caused you to actually look over at him. You don’t fake a smile or pretend to be anything but you truly were–in a constant state of embarrassment and sadness. 
“Do you want to explain to me why the King has detailed instructions on why I am to keep you far away from Kim Sunwoo?”
You turn your head at his name, not wanting your face to give anything away. Juyeon doesn’t let you stay like that, taking his hand and turning your chin towards him, making you look at him. 
“I am sure that the King gave you his reasons. Told you that he was a thief,” You mutter. You found yourself saying thief with malice, unknowingly defending Sunwoo even when he wasn’t here. Even when he wouldn’t care for it. 
“Does he have any reason as to why your hands have been shaking for the entirety of the time that I have been in here? Or why I was able to notice your eyebags and how I can physically see your eyes drifting out of focus.”
“Juyeon–” You sharply state. “I am fine. I am well. You have no business looking for something that doesn’t exist.”
Juyeon scoffs. He was always like this. He was stubborn and never backed down. It’s why you were able to be friends with him after all this time. He always gave you the truth.
“You can’t fool me. I care about you. I always will,” He takes your hand in his. “I’m not looking for something that doesn’t exist, I’m seeing something that exists and could be so good for you and watching you turn it into something that’s hurting you.”
“You don’t understand, Juyeon. The King–” You begin. 
“You know what I have to say to the King?” Juyeon smiles a smile that you hadn’t seen in a long time. The same mischievous smile he would get when you were kids and he knew he was doing something he shouldn’t be doing. 
He lets go of your hand.
“Stop the carriage!” Juyeon yells out. You blink, confused. 
Juyeon exits, talking with the person riding the horse. The bigger carriage behind you stops as well, carrying the rest of the workers. You watch Juyeon smile, turning around and winking at you before making his way past. Your eyebrows furrow.
It’s not until you see someone climbing out and Juyeon taking his place do you realize what he was doing. 
“Oh, if the King finds out about this, we’re both dead Lee Juyeon,” You mutter, watching Sunwoo hesitantly walk towards the carriage. You turn back around, hoping to seem unaffected by staring ahead. 
“I was told to be seated up here. Something about knowing the terrain better..?” Sunwoo, although confused, waits for your permission before entering. You nod your head, not knowing what else to do. 
You stay silent from his entrance up until the carriage begins to move again. 
Sunwoo is the first to break the silence. 
“So, who was that?” He asks with an awkward lilt in his voice. You shake your head, annoyed. 
“Juyeon,” and just to make him angry, you continue. “Chaewon claims we’re going to get married.”
Sunwoo stiffens. “Oh, does she?”
“I’m sure we will. The men I tend to be interested in do not seem to reciprocate, so it only seems fair to arrange to marry him.” This is exactly why you didn’t want Juyeon to leave you alone with Sunwoo. You didn’t have enough time to practice like you didn’t care about Sunwoo or what he said to you. 
Sunwoo’s sharp intake of breath makes you realize that you definitely crossed a line. 
“Sorry. I’m sorry, I should not have said that. Juyeon is just a close friend.”
“Princess–”
“Listen. We should agree to just be civil with each other,” You turn to face him for the first time since he entered the carriage. It takes everything not to tear your eyes away. He was still the same, beautiful Sunwoo. “I understand that you do not want anything to do with me, but I have a standard to uphold so a little civility is needed.”
You don’t expect Sunwoo to argue, and he doesn’t. 
It’s quiet once more. 
“Your hands are shaking,” Sunwoo points out after a moment of silence. 
“Sorry,” You mumble, clasping your hands together. Juyeon was right. 
You notice him continue to stare at your hands, so you attempt to change the topic. 
“Nabi has been doing really well. She seems to enjoy baking as much as I do. Soon enough, she will be able to–”
“I do not know who told you that I do not want anything to do with you, but that is not true,” Sunwoo interrupts. 
The air suddenly feels colder, not helping the fact that you are visibly shaking now, almost like it extended from your hands to the rest of your body. 
“You did, Sunwoo. You told me you did not want anything to do with me,” You blurt, turning to him. “We kissed. And then you turned away like you were disgusted with what you just did. You said that you should not have done that and then never spoke to me again. Tell me, does that sound like you want anything to do with me?” You whisper. 
“I’m so sorry,” Sunwoo whispers back, placing his hand against your cheek. “I’m sorry. I want everything to do with you. I–” It looked like he was fighting with himself. “I tried so hard, but I can’t pretend anymore.
It’s only when you feel his hand on your face that you’re able to relax. You close your eyes, leaning into his touch. 
“I’m tired, Sunwoo.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” He repeats. When you open your eyes, his eyes are searching your face. He leans in, softly placing a kiss on your forehead. He was still cupping your face and you held onto his wrist, hoping to be just a little closer to him. 
“I wanted to apologize the moment I said it,” He whispers against your skin. “When I entered your room, I was just responding to the request for help you called for, but as soon as I saw you,” He pauses, his eyes searching yours to help convey the words he left unsaid. “Your father pulled me aside before the party and told me that I was to not speak to you anymore. If not, the terms were over and I would not be allowed in the house anymore.”
You try to pull away from his touch, shocked by his statement. 
“No, it’s okay,” He reassures as you begin to argue. “I’m done pretending. I hurt you and that is something that I will have to live with. I don’t intend to hurt you again.”
He looks into your eyes, the same sparkle in them that you loved so dearly. 
“Let him kick me out. At least I will leave knowing that I got to know you.”
-
The first order of business once you were back from the visit was the weekly meeting. 
And within that weekly meeting, you were going to tell your father about what Sunwoo liked about the construction and what he didn’t. 
The both of you agreed that there was no point in risking his safety, so you were extremely careful sneaking into his room at night. It was easier to get to his side of the castle without getting caught than risking Sunwoo being in your room. 
It was annoying, being in a constant battle of wanting to be with Sunwoo and then going behind your father’s back. But, there was no denying that you were falling for Sunwoo. You’re sure that if the King knew the real Sunwoo, he would be just as thankful for him as you were. Not to mention, the positive publicity your kingdom was getting thanks to the renovations that were occurring. Sunwoo was bringing so much light into the kingdom. 
As you did any night you couldn’t clear your head, you were baking. You were almost done with your batch of muffins when you hear someone clear their throat. 
It was Chae, in her riding gear. If there was someone Chae loved more than Hyunjae, it was her horse. Like baking was your therapy, riding was hers. 
“Going out?” You question. It was difficult, conversing with her. After that ill-fated dinner, you barely regarded her. However, even you knew better than to disrespect your older sister, even if she deserved it. 
“I just came back, actually,” She trails off, her eyes wandering through the kitchen. It was almost like she was looking for something, but there was nothing in the kitchen that was of interest to her to begin with. 
“What are you looking for?” 
She places her hands behind her back, rocking on her heels. “Oh, you know, just seeing if there was a 5 foot 10 man with black curly hair and really wide eyes hiding in here.”
You furrow your eyebrows. Was she onto you and Sunwoo? And why did she seem almost… shy?
“No, I have not seen Sunwoo–Chae, what is this about?”
“Baekgwang, he… I went riding without Hyunjae–don’t tell him that–and I guess I must not have been paying attention but Baekgwang ran off and Sunwoo…” She trails off as if she expects you to know the rest of the story. 
You shake your head, annoyed. “Chae, please. Did something happen to Sunwoo?”
“He was out there, tending to the garden out there and he got on Yuri’s horse and brought him back. I was looking to see if maybe, he was here. To tell you what happened or–”
You realize what she’s insinuating, but Sunwoo wasn’t like that. Sunwoo did good deeds out of the kindness of his heart, not to gloat or brag to you so that he was favored. 
“I have not seen him, but if I were you, I would thank him,” You shrug.
Chae clears her throat, stepping forward. “I did. Maybe he’s–” She pauses. 
“He’s not as bad as I thought.”
She turns to leave, but quickly adds something else before she does. 
“I saw you both. In the gardens last night before I went out to ride. He looks at you as if the entire world could be seen by looking into your eyes. I think–I think you should tell Father.”
You pause, slightly concerned that you were spotted so easily, but almost glad that it was Chae.
You purposefully face away from her, taking the muffins out of the oven and moving them to the countertop. “It doesn’t matter. Father said he wants me to stay away from him. He doesn’t care that–”
You pause, fiddling with the muffins. To stall, you break a piece off and chew on it. All your attention was on the muffin that you don’t notice Chae getting closer and putting a hand on your shoulder.
“Doesn’t care that what?”
You take a shaky breath, admitting it aloud for the first time to someone other than your own mind. 
“That I’m in love with him.”
-
A week passes since that night. Things have been both the same and different. Still, you snuck out when you could to see Sunwoo. Those were the times you were the happiest. His presence was comforting and warm. You even call him “Sun” now, a nickname that always makes him blush. To avoid the King, you rarely mingled in the public eye, but Chaewon and Yuri had entered the kitchen many times as Sunwoo was “strolling on by.” Chaewon was definitely acting differently. She didn’t glare at Sunwoo every time she saw him anymore, and you had even heard her teasing with Hyunjae–positively–about the two of you. Hyunjae must have heard that the two of you were together through Chae and Yuri told Sangyeon everything, so he knew as well, but neither had made the attempt to tell the King. 
You were content. Now, whenever you baked, you had a lovesick smile on your face. The same smile that adorned your face as you made fruit tarts with Nabi. 
However, the silence and your peace are quickly broken. 
“I talked to the King,” Nabi blurts out, continuing to stir the mixture. “About you and Sunwoo. Princess Yuri and Princess Chaewon were there too. And Sangyeon and Hyunjae. And some guy named Juyeon. And Jacob. ”
“You what?” You look up, alarmed. Nabi mustn’t find the situation as extreme as you did, however, because she continues to stir, without a care in the world. 
“What did you say? What did he say? What did they say? What could you even have talked about?” You ramble, admittedly extremely confused. Your heart was beating at rates that were far from human, but Nabi didn't budge, just standing there. 
“Fruit tarts?” 
You stagger at the new voice, one you know all too well. 
“Father,” You breathe out. “What are you doing here?”
There’s a small smile on his face, one that was reserved for just his three daughters. There was a side to him that no one else knew. 
“I had a chat this evening,” He begins, wandering around the kitchen as if there was a particular interest he found in the cabinets. “Nabi was there and she made some very good points. She was also very convincing.”
“Convincing of what?” You plead, nearly in a frenzy for unsaid words. It was like Nabi and the King were sharing an inside joke which is completely preposterous considering you hadn’t even known they acknowledged each other until this very moment and–
“Chaewon claims that Sunwoo has changed. She entered today with a whole panel of witnesses, actually. All with very convincing arguments on why I should give Sunwoo a chance–a real chance. 
You’re taken aback, shocked by the information. Against your will, your palms begin to sweat and you’re not sure if the room is spinning in circles because you’re dreaming or you were dizzy. 
“I listened to them. But now, I would like to listen to you,” He takes a step towards you, gesturing for you to talk. 
You don’t know where to begin, your mouth dry.
“I–” You look around, your eyes falling onto Nabi’s, the only other person in the room. She sends a small encouraging smile in your direction and it’s all you need for words to flow out of your mouth. 
“I am in love with Sunwoo. Everything he has ever done has been from his heart, whether that be for his parents, his sister, or for me. All he has ever done is love and I wish you could see him through my eyes so you could understand just how bright he shines,” You take a deep breath, continuing. You were sure you looked crazy, but if this was the King’s way of understanding how much Sunwoo meant to you, then you would take the one chance you would get. “He cares about me and this kingdom and I truly think there would be no better person to bring about real change in this world other than him. And if you don’t want us to be together, fine, but you can not deny me that he doesn’t deserve better than the way he’s treated currently. He has done more than prove himself.”
Your mind drifts back once again to those cursed words your Father had spoken–
“Sunwoo was and always will be a thief. Until he makes amends for his mistakes and shows that he is capable of something greater, I do not want you speaking to him.”
By the end of your speech, you're breathing heavily, and you can’t help but want to sit down. The only thought in your brain is that you hope that you’ve done Sunwoo justice. 
Your eyes dart between Nabi and the King. He stays silent, but there’s a smug look on Nabi’s face as if you were missing something. 
“I know I already spoke to you, but anything you wish to add Sunwoo?” 
You pause, watching Sunwoo come out from behind the wall where the King entered from. You feel your face begin to heat up, but you notice the familiar blush littering Sunwoo’s cheeks. 
“No, your highness,” Sunwoo smiles. You raise your eyebrows at the honorific directed towards your father, but he shrugs, mouthing “Talk later?” You nod, directing your attention back to your father with the biggest smile on your face. 
“I believe that settles it then. Sunwoo, you will be moved to closer living quarters, not too close though,” His eyes narrow at Sunwoo. “And your new list of responsibilities begins tomorrow. I think you would do great supervising the new project the two of you have been working on.”
The King turns to look at you one more time, the smile on his face being the same one you grew up with. “Yuri said something to me today that truly helped me gain some insight.”
Your mind wanders to what Yuri could have said. She spent most of her time with Nabi when you weren’t baking with her, but it never occurred to you that she might see Sunwoo on a daily basis when he went to get Nabi for dinner. You wondered what Yuri and Sunwoo could have talked about. 
“What did she say?”
He places a hand on your shoulder, eyes proud. “Your mother would have loved him.”
The King leaves promptly after that, but it isn’t long until you rush over to Sunwoo, wrapping your arms around his neck. 
You laugh as he picks you up, spinning you around. 
“I never got to say this to you directly, but I told your father, who apologized and thanked me, by the way–” The shock must be evident on your face because he says he’ll tell you about it later. “But, I love you. You are it for me, Princess. I want to look toward the future and that’s you. I wouldn’t have a future if it wasn’t for you. So thank you, Angel.”
Your hands were still clasped around his neck, your faces inches apart. You’re not sure if Nabi had left, but you’re sure she would have by now considering it felt like there was no one in the world, let alone the room, but the two of you. 
He places a soft kiss on your forehead, pulling back to look into your eyes again. 
“I love you, too,” You whisper, watching his eyes sparkle. 
 –BONUS SCENE: Nabi’s speech–
“Nabi, go ahead and tell him what you wanted to say,” Yuri encourages Nabi, holding onto her shoulder for support. 
Nabi takes a shaky breath. And then she blurts, “My brother is the best brother in the whole wide world. He helps me and he helped my parents as much as he could. My brother didn’t care that he had to look after me. He didn’t complain to me once. He found me toys and gave me his food and he is my brother. I know I’m a child so you might not believe me. There isn’t much I know, but I do know that my brother is the best person in this world. He cares about me and Princess Y/N even though the way you treated him was terrible. If he was bad, he would be different, but he’s still the same brother I grew up with and I think you need to be nicer to him.”
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from-izzy · 3 months
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double a decade | tbz kim sunwoo
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Double a decade—no, more than that. 
​PAIRING » tbz kim sunwoo x gn!reader (proofread twice! lmk if i missed anything!)​ TROPE/AU » ​childhood friends to lovers, non-idol au!, holiday season au! (starts a little bit from christmas up to new years!) GENRE​ » it's so fluffy like wow...i'm not going to write something so fluff for sunwoo for a while after this, a tinge of angst, SUNWOO AND READER ARE BOTH IDIOTS, sunwoo thought his love was one-sided, very shy kim sunwoo, sunwoo being very cute and patient to the reader, reader is sick and sunwoo takes care of them uwu, they platonically share the same bed, big spoon sunwoo who is physically bigger than you and holds you to sleep, MUTUAL PINING REEEEEE, a ton of hugs from kim sunwoo because he's so...ugh, reader blushing cause of kim sunwoo, sunwoo giving his jackets that're oversized for you to use (ahhhh) WORD COUNT » 5760 ESTIMATED READING TIME » ~21 mins WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!) » reader is sick with a fever (if you're actually sick, please isolate yourself!), kim sunwoo being a shy idiot, one swear word (but cuts through halfway)
navi/masterlist!! 🤍
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my last story for 2023! looking forward to the new year! happy 2024 everyone!
thank you for reading and screaming with me @winterchimez, @heemingyu and @mosviqu !! you three were so chaotic 😭 like ally really whipped out my government name, i couldn't tell whether sana was mad at me or sunwoo, and bar was...yeah...uhm...yeah!
(i suffered so much with the banner, i need to stop looking at it now)
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Even you found this situation absurd.
How could something so beautiful cause you to have tissues and wet towels lying around your heating body? It’s bittersweet to know that the things that made you enwrap in the layer of heated and weighted blankets are the same ones every year that fall nicely from the hues of orange and red sky. Maybe it’s the headache or the jealousy as you hear the excited shrills of the children outside the window having fun and throwing the cold ball of death to each other’s faces. It’s probably also the fact that you’re at the time of your month, the cramps around the underside of your stomach in addition to the scratchy itch on your throat that makes swallowing hard. 
In the end, this year’s Christmas has been wasted and you could only cry under the sheets alone, convincing your parents not to enter as you knew they had to return to work as soon as the holidays ended. You truly regretted your past naive and idiotic self for making a snow angel without proper winter battle clothes. The effect took a massive toll on your body, especially with the amount of hours you have been working and the stress of it all. The way you spent Christmas was lonely as you looked down to the ground floor where your family gathered, a warm blanket slouched on your messy, unwashed hair. The distance between your pout and their smiles wasn’t too far but because of your dying voice and their charged voice, even your mother could barely hear your Christmas greetings.
But, there was someone in your life who still barged into your highly contaminated room with his raccoon loverboy beanie and matching handmade raccoon scarf that you gifted for him this Christmas. Even with your refutes and arguments, he just shrugs, refusing to let you spend the holiday season time alone. 
Every year has always been the same at this time of the year. From when the clock strikes midnight when the jingle bells ring from the city hall up to your room, up until around noon, you would spend it with your family. From noon, when you and your best friend would be amazed at how the snowman still kept its shape up until around dinner time, you would be all over the neighbourhood with him. Then cues the opening of gifts underneath the green tree with ornaments from your grandparents’ age, the smile plasters on everyone’s faces as choruses of ‘thank you’s would be said. Three hours before Christmas day passes, you would retreat to your room, only to have a visitor open your door, the pile of snow between the strands of his hair making the wood of your floor a tripping hazard.
Every year has always been the same for you both and Kim Sunwoo is determined to make sure that it would still be that way. The boy has always made every single Christmas memorable from the day you both were in diapers to now. He made sure that Christmas this year isn’t wasted and he proves that solidly.
Now, another day of fighting begins as you pray for your fever to die down in time for the approaching new year. Contrary to your wishes, your whole body feels like it’s been shut down, feeling too effortful to even raise a finger despite it lying on your bed for the last twenty hours.
“Sunwoo…” The tears well up in your eyes, wishing that you could at least pick up the phone to hear his stories about the day. 
“I got you!” 
The door clicks open to reveal his toothy, mischievous smile. In one hand, a filled fabric bag is held as the other fist punches the sky eagerly. If you could, you would’ve chucked all the layers of fabric to the ground for all you care, clinging onto the boy like a koala. He understands the thoughts roaming in your head as soon as he sees the way the ceiling light highlights the sweat on your forehead and the moisture around the bottom of your eyes. 
The once-upturned corners of his mouth dipped and so did his shoulders. With his free hand, the door closed quietly. He slowly approaches you, kneeling on the floor beside your bed. Sunwoo takes his mittens off, tilting his head and his furrowed eyebrows match his solemn smile. 
“The new year is literally in three days and I’m still here all wrapped up like a mummy.” He unfolded one of the new towels on your bedside table, dapping the sweat away from your flushed face. “I hate this…”
Sunwoo couldn’t hide his true feelings either, missing having you healthy by his side for more than a whole week now. The night walks were now leaning more toward miserable than lonely. He misses the way you would wrap your nearest arm with his, the other hand loosely anchoring on as well as you both comment on whatever comes into your mind. It’s during those times that you would be so preoccupied with your words that the world around him becomes silent, looking down at the slope of your nose and the shape of your moving lips dearly. 
If you look up towards him, you can see the way that Sunwoo’s eyes relax and the corners of his lips lift just slightly, looking at you with utmost adore and affection. His cheeks would be red, not because of the chilly wind, but because his heart is telling him to just hold you close, confess and kiss you deeply into the night. 
It’s no exaggeration to say that the fluttering feeling in his heart, gave his body more warmth than the mittens, beanie, scarf and winter outfit.
“It’ll pass soon, don’t worry,” Sunwoo reassures you, straightening his legs and heading to your bathroom. There, he shrieks and the laugh from the joined room, where you lay in bed with a new cold wet towel on your burning forehead tells him that you did it on purpose. “I thought that was real!” His head peaks out slightly from the bathroom door with the toy cockroach in his hand, throwing it on the duvet where it conveniently plops upside down.
“I need some laughs, okay?” It only earned an eye roll from Sunwoo, who closed the bathroom door.
Your eyes widen at the familiar actions, the sprinkling of water confirming your thoughts.
“Sunwoo!” You scold him. “You can’t stay over! I’m literally sick!”
“I’ll be fine!”
These are the only words that he says, ignoring the rest of your complaints and nagging; he knows though, that it’s just because you care for his health and wellbeing.
Your lips could only form a big mountain when Sunwoo finally does exit your now sauna-like bathroom. He had his favourite raccoon onesie on, his used clothes in one hand and was supported with his chest to avoid it from toppling over his hold. A toothbrush is leisurely in his mouth, the frothing around the inside of his lips tells you that he has no second thoughts about staying over. 
“You can’t, Woo.” An exasperated sigh comes out as soon as he slips into the room. “Why don’t you ever listen to what I say?”
The toothbrush stops its rustling sound against his healthy, white teeth and you can tell from the way his hands land on the side of his waist that he has a complaint back about you.
“As if you’ll ever listen to me.” And the rustling continues with a tune of a song.
“Touche.”
There is one thing that changed from your usual sleepovers but again, you’re not complaining as it is the best choice. Sunwoo takes out the spare roll-up mattress after excitedly knocking on your parent’s room for help. You could hear how your parents are beyond surprised by the visit but you could only smile when you hear the way they scold Sunwoo for wanting to stay beside you with your condition.
For some odd reason, he was still able to walk back into your room, showing off the white fabric on his shoulder that he held, shoulder way too high for your liking as his pride replaces the gloomy atmosphere in the room.
“Make some sort of distance between you and my bed please.”
Your tone is no longer playful, almost tired and most definitely worried. Sunwoo nods, his lips pulling into a line. At this moment, when Sunwoo sets up his bed for the night away from you, you don’t realise the clench in your heart, your hand swishing over the space beside you where he would usually cuddle with you to sleep.
“This alright?” Pulling off his sparkly doe eyes, shooting you a smile that you couldn’t possibly refute. “Alright! Goodnight!” He cheers when you nod defeatedly.
With a flick of the switch, the only thing that allows you to see your covered feet is the moonlight from outside. Sunwoo is in a better position because the lower level means that your bed blocks the shine enough for him to slumber back to sleep.
For some reason, you couldn’t. Your body is still, your eyelids shut and your calm breathing would’ve fooled anyone that you were actually in dreamland. In reality, all you could hear was Sunwoo’s more soothing snores, the sudden feeling that nothing was covering you and the uncomfortable feeling of staying awake.
Your eyelids shoot open once more, staring at the lines and scratches that managed to make it there. Maybe it was a chaotic cat? Or a really strong spiky fly? Or maybe, a ghost? Continuing a questionable amount of ideas. You didn’t even realise when your body turned to the side where Sunwoo was. Without thinking much, your arm reaches for the expensive headpiece straight to the once-slumbering boy.
Disturbed between reality and dreams, his body immediately straightens up, turning his head at you. “Hey!”
“Sorry.” You did feel guilty, not knowing that your impulse actions would jolt him so much; but your laugh tells him that once again, you did plan it with some sort of naughty reason.
Like the antagonist of a scary movie, Sunwoo’s head dips down slightly, his bangs covering his eyes and his cheek rising with menacing thoughts in his head. Suddenly, he jumps over to the mattress, wiggling his fingers all over your body.
“S-Stop! Sunwoo!” He didn’t bother doing so, his heart delighted at the sound of your laughter after so long. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, you pathetic raccoon!”
“Oh, you’re really asking for it!”
It’s a miracle that none of your parents didn’t woke up after almost five minutes of different volumes of laughter. After a week or so of copping up in your room, unable to properly see your best friend, he makes his mark on the winter holiday, knowing that every time you fall sick with a fever, you’ll recall this fun memory.
“Can’t sleep?” 
He retreats to the edge of the bed, his legs dangling. Yet, he has his full focus on the way your smile gradually falls into a frown. His hands move under the blanket, finding yours. As soon as he feels you, his fingers intertwine with yours. Automatically, your thumb caresses Sunwoo’s, calming enough for him to sleep. Eyelids heavy but not completely down yet, your brown orbs observe the way Sunwoo kneels beside you.
“Sunwoo…”
“Hm?” 
“Thank you for staying.” 
His eyes widen slightly but he then lets out a small chuckle. “Just doing your lovely parents a favour.” 
“No.” He gulps at your seriousness, watching the way that even though your back is facing the natural light source, the growing waters underneath your eyelids make his other hand reach out for you, the movement shaking your tears down. “I meant in life. Thank you for staying with me another year.”
Your eyelashes fluttered, the darkness quietly enveloping you. Sunwoo just lets out a soft sigh, your words making his heart beat too rapidly for him to sleep tonight. 
“I love you.” 
There…
He rehearsed the confession in the mirror many times, different scenarios each time, a different object in his hand every time as he imagined the perfect gift that he would give if he was ever given a chance to pour his feelings into you. A part of him wishes you heard it, hoping that you didn’t keep this friendship going. 
The mattress that he worked hard to retrieve from your parents is left untouched for the rest of the night. Forget about his well-being for a second, prioritising the love in his heart. Forget about being sick if it meant being able to hold you in his arms just like all those times. Forget about your scoldings that he would only stick his tongue out nonchalantly to. Sunwoo climbs on the opposite side, his usual spot in your bed. He carefully slips his body inside, the air a thousand times warmer, almost making him wince at the sudden temperature rise that he didn’t expect.
For one last time in the night, he wipes your forehead clean, pressing a lingering kiss on the area. Your body recognises the dip of the bed, turning to the other side and hiding your eyes from the glare of the night into Sunwoo’s beating chest. Perplexed but still somewhat composed, he lets you get comfortable first, both of your hands reaching up to the fabric of his collar, tugging it slightly as a satisfied smile makes its way onto your relaxed face. 
“I love you.” 
He says once more.
“I love you so much, bubs.” 
A little bit louder.
“I love you so much but,” He rests his head on the pillow, pulling you further into his embrace with his hand curling over the shape of your head. “I don’t think I can stay beside you next year.”
Unrequited love his whole life. 
The trade-off between friendship and love is too much for him to fully digest. 
But as the years pass, Sunwoo knows that there is nothing much he can do but drown in his uncertainties. At the same time, he’s no longer sure how much longer he could fake another smile towards you whenever you were taken out for dates. He’s no longer sure how to keep his heartbeat at bay whenever you accidentally whip your hair across his face whenever he scared you, and the way your first instinct is to squish his cheeks, frown and check up for any hurt on his beautiful face. He’s no longer sure if he could hide the urge to pull you into his chest whenever your fingers would lace together even during the hot summer days.
So Sunwoo made it clear to himself that tonight would be the last time he would bask in your presence. Another unsure kiss is given to your forehead and against the screamings inside his head, he follows his heart to press one on each of your closed lids, whispering loving words that he desperately wishes you would hear. 
“I’m thankful for you too.”
True to his words, Sunwoo is gone by the early morning, the white blob on the floor is gone and so are the used towels that you have used throughout the previous day. Judging from the coolness of the sheets beside you, he must’ve left some time ago and it left a bitter feeling in your whole being when he left no note that would usually snap the drowsiness in you to an immediate deadpan reaction, or contrary a dog video that would make up want to curl up and stay in bed for longer.
Three distinct knocks on the door tell you that your mum has breakfast ready but you can’t respond as enthusiastically as you usually would. 
“You’re looking better today, actually.” The plastic tray rests on the corner of your table. The now-occupied space reminds you of last night when Sunwoo used the same space for his worn-out backpack. Satisfied with the way your forehead is no longer burning and almost back to normal temperature, the woman nods and lets out a sigh of relief. “Must be the Sunwoo effect.”
It did make you forget your confusion for a second, the corners of your slumped lips pulling to a straight line. When you were once again left all alone in the room, the loneliness was unlike ever before. The charging cable is ripped away from your device, opening the messaging app to text Sunwoo a very formal, very awkward morning greeting. Your eyes bore into the bottom left of the screen, seeing if the familiar typing icon would pop out but after around four minutes of empty wishes, the way you shoved your phone under the pillow shows how crestfallen you are with his isolating behaviour. It continued for the rest of the day, your phone never buzzing because of him even though his social media activity shows him posting a new memory to share over the internet.
New Year is around a few hours and to you, it looks like Sunwoo has no plans to change his indifference towards you. Even when Eric says he would make sure that Sunwoo sends a message to you, the only thing that changed in your messaging status with him is the ‘delivered’ to ‘seen’ sign.
“The audacity of this little piece of sh—” 
Your fingers tapped rapidly first, and the floating tiles of your keyboard pour your conflicted emotions with a dash of empty threats to him. It’s infuriating that the only thing he did was still, left you on ‘seen’ but this time, in real-time. 
“Okay, fine!”
Why are you so defeated? Frustrated? Annoyed? Irritated? Worried? Sour? Confused? Are you really going to spend the rest of the year without him? Start the new one without him? Is he really breaking the streak of watching the fireworks together and being each other’s first ‘Happy New Year!’s with a bunch of jumping and squealing? 
Is he mad because you’re the reason why you can’t watch the flowers in the sky with him this year? But Sunwoo knows that you’ve been sick! But if he is, is he so mad to the point that he's going to break the streak of being each other’s first ‘Happy New Year!’s next year because of it? But between you both, you’ve always beaten him by a split second!
“Fine! Be that way then!” If the framed picture of you both had noise sensitivity, you’re sure that it would’ve cowered away and fallen straight to the bin next to it. “Ignore me then! Go have fun with the rest of your friends! Why’d you come here and act like you cared when you were just going to avoid me like this?!”
As if the whole universe isn’t seemingly against you already, the bunny doll that Sunwoo won for you smiled sweetly from the corner of your room. The rubber material of your slippers makes high-pitched slaps and your arms snatch the poor plush by its neck, shaking it back and forth as you start to let out all the cursing in all the languages that you know to the boy in your head.
“You got it!”
You couldn’t hide the excitement on your face as soon as the claw hovers in the hole of the machine, a few seconds away from delivering the prize to your hands. Sunwoo rejoices and is proud after winning against the rigged game with only the first try. 
You try to wait patiently for Sunwoo to give it to you, but the way that your upper body bounces, and the way your slightly wavy hair goes along with the motions of your body, only makes it harder for Sunwoo to properly hand you over the gift. You weren’t doing anything special but he was so in love with you that he couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath at the way your eyes sparkle to him—it didn’t help his case that you were cutely drowning in his jacket. 
“D-Do you love it that much?”
Would it be weird if he snapped a photo of you right now? When your cheeks are smushed against the bunny’s fluffy ones? Would it be weird if he wanted to set it as his wallpaper and just stare at it all day long?
“It’s so cute!” 
You indirectly answered, putting your full attention and affection to the animal in your hands. The way you bopped your nose with its own only fuels his adoration for you and because you’re so immersed in your birthday gift, Sunwoo did manage to get the picture that he desires.
Kim Sunwoo also had it as his lock screen, hiding it within a collage of other memories—it’s the reason why he’s been so protective over his phone for the last few months.
Having had enough of giving the inanimate animal a headache, you threw it onto the floor with a huff, blowing the loose strand of hair away from your vision. All of a sudden, the tears finally well up in your eyes and you let out silent croaked sobs. The hunched-over plushie is the catalyst for your head to replay the memories in your head. With your back against your bed, knees folded to your chest and the bunny sitting on top, the outside world blurs out of existence for a while.
Everything is just Kim Sunwoo.
From the way he smiles.
To the way he drools in his sleep.
From the way he would literally hide you from the outside world, arms enveloping and muffling your cries.
To the way he welcomes the series of punches on his chest because life is too much for you sometimes.
From the way he has your mum on speed dial in case he can’t reach you.
To the way that he would hop into the car to pick you up from your solo late-night, early-morning beach walks still in his pyjamas.
From the way he knew how to comfort you depending on the situation.
To the way he wouldn’t mind submitting his assignment late if it meant that you’ll be able to sleep peacefully.
Your face flares up, recalling the light pressure of his lips on your eyelids the other night and with it, the meaning behind your tight hold on the bunny becomes something entirely different. That’s all it takes for you to rush out the front door, your mum following your rushed actions with her eyes.
“Well,” she shrugs, eyes back to the television of her favourite Christmas movie, “that happened.”
So maybe you should’ve changed to snowing boots or something more appropriate than your slippers but in your body’s adrenaline to keep your body intact for another five minutes when you would reach Sunwoo’s house.
“You’re so—ugh!” 
The crystals falling from the sky are too uncomfortable and you know that you will be bedridden for longer after this but that’s not going to be your fault. Someone else will take the blame for this and you’ll make it clear for him.
It’s only when you reach the front door, hands on your bent knees, throat dry, nose red, cheeks most probably iced due to your tears and the weather that the words all evaporate from your head. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore and with the curtain from the living room open just enough for you to see Sunwoo snuggling in the couch with his cup of hot chocolate, the feelings that you have been hiding from him amplified greatly.
You’re so mad at him but you still think he looks cute with the blanket over his head, covering his shoulders and eyes focused so much to the point the colours of the graphics were being reflected on his eyes. Changing the direction from kicking down the front door, you decided to instead gather a lump of ice into your palm, striking it against the window where his face was. 
His body jolts back but it didn’t take long for his mind to register the white remnants crumbling on the glass, window frame and sill. It takes Sunwoo less than a second to take in your shivering figure on the other side of the window and he knows he’s going to get an earful from his mum when she sees the sweet and sticky drink on her carpet.
The coat hanger rattles and almost breaks an arm with how violently Sunwoo takes two of his warmest jackets, swiftly getting ready to meet the cold and starting blizzard outside. He automatically winced when nature slammed the door open, almost stubbing his toe—but maybe that’s his karma for leaving you on read for more than a whole day without a proper explanation.
Sunwoo took his focus away from the throbbing pain, skipping down the stairs, using the spiky handrail for support as he pushed his body up whenever he went down a step lower, relaxing when his feet landed on the ground safely. It’s only been a few minutes since he stepped out of his blanket but now everything is throbbing—his heart as well for a different reason.
Seeing you still facing the window, your hair flying all over the place, your chin basically on your chest, Sunwoo realises that he hurt you badly. Maybe he should’ve just been honest. If so, then at the very least, you wouldn’t chase him out like this when it looks like you just started to feel better. 
“Hey…” his feet make cautious little shuffles, scrunching the remaining mixes of nature and ice, kind of scared for his life that you would start to (rightfully) punch him. Thankfully, he got close enough to drape his jacket onto your shoulder, zipping up the front without asking you to put your arms. If it wasn’t for the fact that he ignored you, he would be teasing and asking you about what you are mulling over. “Let’s go inside, hm?”
Sunwoo sighs at your stubbornness when you shoved his arm away, feet planted on the ground.
“Go away.” 
His heart clenches at the way you probably meant that. It included a hint of hurt, broken the unanswered questions that were swarming your head.
“I’m sorry,” Sunwoo said so softly that you could’ve missed it if it wasn’t the way you were already actively focusing on him. “So please, let’s just get you inside. It’s my fault, I’m sorry.”
His palm goes over where his heart is and the other hand gives you a reassuring press. Sunwoo knew by the way you refused to look at him despite him bending over to meet your eyes, that this was going to be tough for you to listen to him.
But Kim Sunwoo is patient.
He’s always been patient and understanding when it comes to you. When his hands reach over to envelop yours, you don’t push away how he wraps his own between yours. Your heartbeat picks up its pace when he leads your joined hands into the pocket of his jacket, his thumb gliding over your skin. The act also sends your body closer to his, finally closing the gap between your bodies, sharing body warmth corresponding to the red hues on your cheeks.
Your lips now hover over his outwear and your nose takes his scent in, enjoying breathing in the familiarity after almost two days of no contact. Sunwoo bites his lips, nervous about having you in front of him and the way you tighten your hold on his hands tells him that you have a lot to say. 
“You don’t want to spend the first week of the new year bedridden, bubs.” Wordlessly and timidly, Sunwoo just scans over your facial features, his eyes roaming about while your eyes are stuck on his zipper which is halfway done.
“Don’t call me that…” Because it clicks open the surge of feelings that you have been trying to hide from him for the longest time. “Don’t…”
You were still half awake when he said his words.
Unknowingly to Sunwoo, you heard every single word that you have always wanted to say to him. That night, when his hand wrapped securely around your waist, you had the best sleep in your life, taking a mental note to talk about the topic later on.
Only to realise that you are both idiots with your feelings.
“I’m sor—”
“Stop apologising!” 
And it sends Sunwoo into a puddle of shock and confusion when your eyes send out a waterfall. He separates his hands from yours and they fly quickly to hold your cheeks. Stutters of more apologies string out and his thumbs weren’t fast enough to keep your face dry. 
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry too!”
“Hey, what are you sorry about? I’m the one who left you on read!”
“I’m sorry that I’ve never told you how much I appreciate you,” you hiccup before continuing, seeing a glimpse of Sunwoo’s gaping mouth, “I’m sorry that you’ve always been the one taking care of me and not the other way around,” and you see the way he shakes his head with furrowed eyebrows, “I’m sorry that I ever make you think that I don’t care about you!” 
“Hey, no. Don’t say that, I know you care abo—”
“I love you, Kim Sunwoo!” 
To him, even though Christmas has passed, he’s convinced that it’s a miracle for him. The night when he left to stay in your house, he innocently wished upon the shooting star, closing his eyes and hoping for your health and happiness—but he couldn’t help but also wish that you would love him back even though that’s out of his control.
But what can he do when he’s only loved one person and one person throughout his whole life?
“I’m sorry if I ever made you think that I like someone else because I can tell you now that all those dates I went to only made me sure that I’m so in love with you and you make me feel like I can just be myself when I’m around you and I also feel jittery when I’m around you and—”
This is not the type of confession that he has rehearsed for.
He guides your face into his chest, still sobbing and crying. As always, your hands weakly hit him, your lips still voicing out muffled confessions to him. Sunwoo’s arms wrap around your shoulders, the other on top of it. His head dips, his lips breathing out air near your ear, resting his forehead on his arm for stability. He wants to say something, anything to make sure that his avoidance doesn’t mean that he doesn’t love you back but all he wants to do is to just hold you closer to make it clear that no one could take you out on another date.
Only he can take you out on dates now.
You sniffle, catching your breath after letting your feelings out. The hold around you makes you melt, smiling before turning to where Sunwoo is. At your longing stare, his head shoots back up in surprise, tripping over his own words at how you look at him with beady, watery eyes in adoration. Shy Sunwoo is going to be a sight that you’ll get used to quickly, noting how adorable he is with how his eyes refuse to meet yours and his lips moving without any sound actually coming through.
“I love you.” 
You repeated quieter just for him so that he was the only one who could hear the words.
“I love you so much.”
You stood on your toes, planting a kiss on his chin.
“I love you so much but,” Sunwoo gulps with how you squinted your eyes, “if you leave my side next year, I won’t hesitate to throw a snowball to your face.”
“Oh God, please don’t do that.” Mortified and shaking his head, “I’m sorry, you win. I’ll do anything, just please have mercy on me.”
“Anything?”
Sunwoo gives a series of firm, convincing nods.
“Kiss me.”
The words took a while to register in his mind and he couldn’t help the breath hitching when he realised your request. Sunwoo almost stumbled backwards, your hands tug the fabric of his pockets, pulling him back to you and reality. It caused your foreheads to lightly bump and the impact made you wince at his stupidity. 
“I-I’m sorry! I-I’m—”
“Kim Sunwoo! There’s going to be a mark there! That hur—”
A pair of comforting hands hold your jawline, tilting your face to accommodate the height difference between the two once-best friends. When Sunwoo gets a better grip on himself, he quickly dives in when your lips part, swallowing your complaints and making his dreams come true. 
Double a decade—no, more than that. 
That’s how much he’s waited for this moment with you.
When his lips would slot against yours, hugging your top ones with his before pulling away to give the same amount of affection to your bottom ones. Your noses bump into each other slightly, making the moment seem real and fun, smiling and giggling when you both part for air. Shy and kind of embarrassed with how messy and uncoordinated it is but you both know you wouldn’t want to share each other’s firsts with anyone else. 
At this moment, it’s you and him in this world.
That’s how you ended the year. Clenched fist still inside his pockets, though that didn’t stop you from folding the fabric back so that you could have your arms wrapped around his middle to pull him closer. The sky soon blooms shortly after, and the happy firing noises illuminate the night sky, beating the dull light and colour of the moon that everyone sees every day. Because of the dynamic colours, Sunwoo is able to see the shades of the celebration mirrored on your skin, finding you more beautiful than ever before. 
Though beautiful, the fireworks did make Sunwoo roll his eyes when he seemingly needed to repeat variations of “Be my girlfriend!” even though you were less than ten centimetres away from his face. He knows after your third “What? I can’t hear you” that you were playing with him, giving you pecks of his lips across your face playfully, enjoying how your laughs neutralised the flowers in the sky. 
You ended the year with the start of a kiss with your best friend.
And start the new year with a new title for your ex-best friend.
With Kim Sunwoo, of course.
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navi/masterlist!! 🤍 tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿
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sureogi · 7 months
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ପ(੭ ´ᵕ`)੭ ─➵ SAY YOU’RE MINE ( SUNWOO x READER )
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summary He can and will never be yours. ⋅ notes i need to stop writing angst lol i got inspo from the cool with you mv so i thought i’d write it :> i promise i’ll post my older works 😭 but i have 2 rewrite them cus my writing before sucks :P
genre angst, a little bit of fluff, inspired by cool with you mv !! eros/cupid!sunwoo, human!reader, unrequited love :< ⋅ word count 184 (very short)
Sunwoo hasn’t seen anyone as majestic as you. He was always fond of you. He was never excited about his job until he saw your name on the list.
He followed you everywhere, every time, and every day. Whether it was on the bus going to work or not, he’d be there, sitting next to you. Travelling on the road with friends? He would be on top of the vehicle, making sure you had a safe drive. Ran out of cash? He’ll sneak a few bills into your wallet and pockets. He was everywhere at every time and every day for you.
Ever since he was commissioned to shoot you in order to find your lover, he has never done his task. He didn’t pull out an arrow or attempt to shoot you. He always hoped that you would look his way, notice him, or even fall in love with him.
Yet each time he looked in the mirror, he remembered. He can and will never be yours. Because he always has to remind himself that you’re a human and he’s just a cupid.
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wuahae · 1 year
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gravity (is the distance between you and me)
kim sunwoo x gn!reader
you tell yourself that this is for the best, that you’re only doing what needs to be done. even if it hurts now, even if it never stops hurting, maybe this is truth you’ve been running from this whole time. maybe this is just acceptance. — or: you break up with sunwoo because you love him, because you refuse to let him fall back down to earth with you; everything that follows after is an inescapable gravity.
idolverse!sunwoo x non-celeb!reader, exes!au, mostly reader-centric // 13.6k // angst with a teeny bit of fluff in between // told in alternating past and present timeskips, vaguely canon timeline but don’t look too close // 🪐fic playlist (for full experience)
if you enjoyed the fic, please leave feedback!
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prologue. (love is…)
it occurs to you on a sunday night, the second-hand of the clock only a few ticks away from midnight, that this was never meant to be.
you try to not hear echoes of sunwoo’s voice in your head, admonishments scolding you gently to go to sleep, but it plays in your head regardless. truthfully, it had always sat on the edge of nagging, but you supposed that when it was him, it ended up more endearing than anything else: the pout in his lips, the scrunch in his brow, the worry in his eyes as he'd brush a strand of loose hair out of your face. 
there was always something else in his gaze, something you could never quite pinpoint—like he saw something you couldn't, like his gaze had stripped you bare of everything you'd put up to protect yourself. you try not to chase the rabbit's trail thinking about it, shoving the ghost of the memory beneath a quick, heated blink of the eyes.
it doesn't matter anymore. you've lost the chance to figure out what it had meant.
you almost laugh at the reminder; it seems you haven’t changed, even now. greed had always been your deadliest sin, despite everything. you want, and want, and want.
you want what you can’t have, you tell yourself, but you stop at the thought. that's not it. 
pause, rewind, play.
because the truth of the matter is, you just want what you don't deserve. you don’t deserve this—the sun-soaked kitchens, the teasing glances, the rhythmic sway in each others' arms as you wait for the rice cooker to beep, your timer set for the oven to ring, the world to finish turning from gold to dark blue to midnight. it's softness that makes your lungs collapse in on themselves, tenderness that burns your skin from even the gentlest brush.
you've been selfish for long enough, you think, indulging in pleasures that should have never been yours. and no matter how tightly you want to continue clinging onto sunwoo's sweet words and empty promises, the little voice in your head drowns it all out in the end. 
it's not supposed to be painless; it's rational, practical, inevitable, but so is snipping off the dead leaves off your plant after they've died, tying a tourniquet to a limb before cutting it off to prevent the infection from spreading. 
(it's for his own good. you should have done this a long time ago.)
so you pick up your phone, send a single text message to sunwoo, and wait; your knuckles turn white with the knife in your hands, like the first press of the blade to your skin. tie the knot tight, grit your teeth, you can never go back to what once was.
it's 12:03AM when your phone lights up again, eyes burning in the brightness. you can only watch as you bleed.
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after. (love is sacrifice.)
chanhee calls you monday, the morning after.
it’s not so much that you weren’t expecting it, moreso that you were hoping that you’d be proven wrong, that maybe chanhee could have let it go, let it all play out without any extra fuss, but thinking back on it now, you suppose the mere thought of that was already a hopeless endeavor. phone vibrating on the counter, the caller id blares ‘choi chanhee’ in big white letters, predictably incessant. 
you can practically feel the pensiveness in the buzzing. the bated breath, the knit brows, his finger tapping on the table as chanhee waits for your voice to replace the dialing tone over the speaker. you have half a mind to just let it ring.
after all, what more could he really say? it was all over and done with, and he’d just be wasting his breath trying to convince you otherwise. but still, your phone continues to ring, and despite your better judgment, your finger slides to accept.
(if you were going to start it, you might as well go until the very end of the aftermath.)
“hello?”
chanhee lets out a sharp breath, his voice falling to a hush. “are you serious?”
not even a ‘hello’ back, you lament silently. your bottom lip catches between your teeth, nail picking at the loose skin on your thumb as you try to form a reply on your tongue. “about what?”
he calls out your name in response, exasperated. you can practically see the wrinkles knit tight in his forehead, each word stressed more than the last as he continues to scold you. “don’t play dumb with me,” chanhee retorts. “did you seriously break up with sunwoo?”
ah. straight to the point, as expected. you shift your gaze to the clock on the wall, focusing on the rhythmic ticking as it works its way through a new hour. your breathing slows to match, heart steeling, your voice thinning out into something you know you can control. “he told you?”
he scoffs, harsh breath crackling over the speaker. “he didn’t need to. he’s locked himself in his room since last night and won’t talk to anyone else. it isn’t hard to figure out when you were the last person he called.”
the influx of questions almost come pouring out before you bite your tongue—doesn’t he have schedules today? do you know if he slept last night? did he even eat at all since then— “oh,” you manage to breathe out.
“what are you doing?” he asks plainly. it’s a simple question, and it’s one you don’t know how to answer.
“i…” you chew your bottom lip, eyes picking out a small scuff on the side of your coffee table. funny, you don’t remember it being there before you had moved. “i’m not sure what you mean.”
“don’t do that, you know exactly what i mean,” chanhee counters back. “why did you break up with him? and don’t give me some bullshit excuse, because we’d both know you’d be lying.”
the clock continues to tick on the wall, and you drag your eyes over to it once more, its needle in a constant state of motion. three minutes. you could unravel the truth to chanhee in three minutes, at least the parts that really matter. choi chanhee is many things—nosy, opinionated, a gossip, but he isn’t tactless. no matter who he ends up spilling his complaints to about you and sunwoo and this entire situation, you know not a single word from his lips will ever reach sunwoo’s ears. no matter how close you and chanhee are, you would have ended the call then and there if you weren’t certain of it.
“it’s for the best,” you say softly, and it sounds so simple when you put it like that. like the nights toiling over sending that final text were all for nothing because this was just how it was meant to be, like you were just fighting the inevitable.
“you can’t actually believe that.”
something in your chest sparks, a flicker of a flame that lends itself to “we both know—” before you cut yourself off, catching the growing volume and thickness in your voice before chanhee can pick it out and lay it bare. “we both know it was never going to work out like how we wanted.”
you tense, waiting for chanhee’s incoming rebuke, but he goes quiet for a few moments before trying to speak again, slowly and carefully. “what happened?”
“nothing happened,” you stress, shaking your head, and you smear over the memory that flashes by, the hurt and loneliness that fades into nothing more than streaks of color and silence. “i just did what i should have done a long time ago.”
“you—”
“i have to go, chanhee.” choke it back. hold it in. “take care of him, okay?”
chanhee makes a noise of protest, but you hang up before he gets the chance to say anything more. you try not to look at the clock on the wall again—you already know those three minutes had passed a long time ago.
(heat surges to the bridge of your nose, pressure builds at the back of your eyes. those three minutes had passed, so it was okay now, right? it was okay to let go?)
on monday morning, six minutes past ten, you sit tourniquet-tied in a pool of dried blood of your own making, and you cry.
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before. (love is youth—)
it all starts out as whispers at first.
rumors of a new transfer student spread quickly through the halls, jokes about new competition within the school said just as easily and nonchalantly as discussing the new main course added onto the lunch menu, or the latest news about which celebrity they think would make it onto dispatch headlines within the next year. it’s routine, at this point, their gossip becoming just another common occurrence during the school year. all of it is just too familiar, too predictable, your classmates’ voices droning on in your head as their gossip goes through one ear and out the other.
the new kid gets introduced during homeroom first period, and the whispers grow to a murmur. the clacking of the drumsticks from a couple kids in the back of the class stop, and the boys playing guitar in the corner of the room go silent, eyes bright and watching.
he introduces himself as kim sunwoo, an applied music major, and you wonder if he’s just another kid wanting to fulfill their idol dream—a trainee? a trainee-wannabe? there certainly weren’t a lack of those in the applied music department, and at a school like hanlim, most transfer students ended up being one of the two. repressing a sigh, you bury your head inside the crook of your arm, slumping against your desk. as if there weren’t enough empty desks scattered around the classroom belonging to students skating by their classes in favor of trainee and idol life.
you’ve heard too many whispering aspirations from other trainees about gaining fame and popularity, thousands of adoring fans loving them through their music, but you know it never really is about the music—it’s always just a means to an end, not that you could really fault them for it. everyone was working hard in different ways for their dreams, but after months of being paired with and surrounded by people who were barely around and hard to reach with a noticeable lack of passion for the same music you came to hanlim for, you’ve grown a little tired of it all. 
even the class president, park jihoon, couldn’t be excluded from that nasty habit. with more absences than attendances on his record, you had to wonder if all that struggle as a trainee at such a major entertainment company was worth it. but still, at least he tried his best at his job whenever he was here: leading the class, keeping everyone under control whenever they inevitably got frisky, and—(your eyes catch him walking over to the sunwoo’s desk and introducing himself)—making small talk with the new kids.
“where are you from?” jihoon asks, head tilted curiously. “seoul?”
sunwoo nods, and from the bits of conversation you overhear from a few desks away, it’s just as you guessed. the transfer to hanlim was only to get him one step closer to becoming an idol. you can see it all so clearly, another empty desk, another dream of wanting fame.
“are you in a company, then?”
“no, i…” sunwoo rubs the back of his neck, shaking his head half in a stupor. you can practically hear his thoughts in his poorly-veiled expression, the culture shock of the applied music department in a school like hanlim striking him swiftly. “not yet, i’m looking for one now.”
“ah, i see,” jihoon nods faintly, a spitting image of a cool class representative, and you stifle a snort beneath a hidden smile. as if jihoon didn’t only just get accepted into yg entertainment two months ago. he’s lame as always.
the boy sitting behind sunwoo chirps in after, asking him questions and starting up conversation along with another kid in their column. chin rested on your hand, you turn your head towards the window again, tuning out your classmates in favor of watching the clouds outside drift slowly along with the wind. 
(he was planning on being a trainee, after all; there wasn’t really a point in becoming invested in someone you knew you were never going to see much of again.)
except, a couple of weeks later, your teacher announces a month-long songwriting project, and sunwoo’s name gets called out next to yours as random pairs are chosen as partners. he meets your eyes from across the room, giving you a small nod of acknowledgement, and you try not to let the apprehension show on your face when you give him a polite smile in response.
you don’t even know if he knew how to write lyrics.
“so we’re writing lyrics given our assigned theme, right?” sunwoo asks after class, chair pulled up to your desk as you brainstorm for ideas.
you nod, peering over at his sheet cautiously. “do you have any ideas on how to start?”
“well,” sunwoo starts, lips pursed as he taps his pencil on his paper. “the theme is ‘love,’ right? so we could do anything about that, but…”
“it’s too broad of a topic,” you finish, frowning.
“yeah,” his eyes flicker to yours, mouth gaping open slightly, his eyes a little wide. “exactly.”
you hum in thought, a few seconds passing in silence before you pull your wired earphones out of your pocket, offering him an earbud after. you figured if you were partners, you might as well work hard together. “let’s start with this, then,” you try. “what do you think when you listen to it?”
songs were stories, after all, even without the lyrics. like putting together parts of a puzzle and assembling it piece by piece, it was your job to find what part of the story was untold and fill in the missing words.
sunwoo furrows his brows, leaning closer. the earbud wire dangles precariously over the desk, headphone jack connected to your phone in the middle. breath held, you try to ignore the close proximity in favor of focusing on the chords, the bass, the melody. even with just the guide melody, each note sounds like a confession, like a secret waiting to be unveiled, wanting to be stripped and laid in the open.
“it’s a sad song,” you comment, breaking the silence, “but it’s like…it sounds like there’s more to it than that?” you let the question hang in the air, looking at him half-expectant.
“it almost sounds…” sunwoo begins, trailing off as he mulls over his words.
“bittersweet?” 
sunwoo nods as he hurries to scribble down a few words onto the sheet of paper. the puzzle piece clicks into place. “that’s what i was thinking too. like there’s still something left to remember even if it’s all over, like…”
“like even in the hurt, it’s still—“
“—love.”
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before. (love is lonely.)
party streamers littered on the floor throughout the living room, the metallic gold strips of paper and plastic scattered amongst silver glint in the darkness, catching in the lowlight. balloons of all different types of assortments were sprinkled throughout your apartment as well, regular colorful latex balloons floating above your couch and set atop your coffee table and fallen beneath your stools, while the fancier balloons had been pinned on an empty wall of your kitchen, ‘happy birthday’ with an extra exclamation mark and heart balloon spelled out in big bubble letters.
sat at the kitchen table, you watch in silence as a small candle flickers in front of you, placed in a single cupcake that your friends had insisted on saving for you after the party. 
(for when he calls, they had said gently, pushing the cupcake and the unopened candle towards you. you can blow it out with him, make your birthday wish together.)
it paints you orange, the soft glow just warm enough for you to barely feel it as shadows dance on the table. ten minutes away from midnight, you hold your breath, something in your chest deflating as you close your eyes, readying yourself to blow out the candle.
your phone lights up, ringing; you scramble to salvage what lingering traces of hope you have left.
you try not to think too much of it when the incoming call shows up as a voice call rather than video like it usually is, but your greeting slips out a little too quickly, too obvious to tell that you were waiting for him to call. “hi, sunwoo.”
“hey,” sunwoo greets back, words spoken slowly, his voice tracing the edge of a drowsy rasp. any trace of bringing up the voice call goes out the window. if this had been any normal circumstance, you would have teased him for mistapping his screen, playfully badger him to switch over to video call so you could see him in all his bare-faced glory. (but then again, a small voice in the back of your mind interrupts,  if this were any normal circumstance, he would have just been here instead of across the world.) you push the thought away; a small drop of wax begins to melt down the candle.
“we just got back to our hotel,” he tells you, and you can see it clearly almost as if you were there. the contents of their luggage messily splayed about the carpeted hotel floor, outfits for tomorrow draped on the chairs, and dirty clothes piled in a hamper in the corner. you can faintly hear a shower being turned on in the background, and sunwoo comments on it before you can ask. “can you believe this? changmin-hyung kicked me out of the bathroom as soon as we came into our room,” he complains, and you know that his lip is jutted out in a pout of indignation at the injustice of it all. “he said that i’d take too long and use up all the hot water if i went first.”
“well…” you chide softly, a smile faint on your lips. “he’s not exactly wrong, sunwoo.”
sunwoo whines, and you can hear him kick the sheet on the mattress. “you’re siding with him?”
“sorry,” and you don’t sound apologetic in the slightest. “you know i can’t lie.”
he grumbles something unintelligible as you breathe out something resembling a laugh. silence lulls for a few seconds, your shadow long on the tabletop, and you try to harden the twist in your gut, gathering the courage.
“i—”
“today—”
you stop, and so does he.
“oh, you go first,” sunwoo offers, but you hesitate, offering back.
“no, it’s okay, you go.”
sunwoo insists again, but you can sense his fight against his heavy eyelids growing closer by the second, the yawn that he stifles every time he pauses, so you force down the confession, keep your wish tucked away within the flickering candlelight. he would know, right?
“no, i mean it—what were you going to say? how was your day? how was the flight?”
there’s a moment of uncertainty where sunwoo tries to decide whether or not to continue the exchange, but he gives in eventually. “the flight was good,” he begins, albeit still reluctant. “the plane food was better than usual, surprisingly.”
you hum in acknowledgement, encouraging him to continue.
“and i fell asleep an hour in and—chanhee-hyung,” he interrupts himself, suddenly remembering. “i fell asleep and chanhee took these photos of me and—”
“were you drooling?” you guess, sympathetic.
“how did you—i mean no! i was not drooling!”
“chanhee’s newshots will never lie, you know.”
“ugh,” sunwoo groans. “remind me why you’re friends with him again?”
you contemplate, humming. “birds of a feather?”
(chanhee had actually sent you the photos earlier this morning, along with the text “happy birthday, here’s a loser as your gift.” he followed it up with an additional message of “your loser…i guess.”)
“oh, speaking of birds,” sunwoo adds, “that reminds me. i saw two ducks swimming in the river today. mandarin ducks, i think.”
“oh?”
“yeah.” his voice grows quieter, almost embarrassed as he mumbles, “they reminded me of you.”
you go still. you try to fight the hardened knot in your stomach from softening and twisting further. he’s just a hopeless romantic, you tell yourself, but the knot wrings tighter, creeping up into your chest the more you try to not think about it. mandarin ducks, the symbol of love.
(“they mate for life, you know?”)
sunwoo tries to change the subject, ears surely burning red as he stammers his way to the next topic while half-muffled into a pillow. “anyway, i didn’t call you too late, did i? it’s three a.m. over here, and i wasn’t sure. i didn’t wake you up, or anything?”
your ears ring as you swallow hard, eyes burning as you look at the clock on the wall. it ticks, once. “no, it just turned midnight here.” 
(you suddenly remember that chanhee had sent you another message afterwards, one that you never opened properly to read. “he’s said happy birthday to you already, right?” you had wanted to open it when you could respond with a “yes.”)
“oh, okay,” sunwoo smiles over the phone, love and affection still tangible even through the tiredness in his voice, the drowsiness that permeates through the speaker. “that’s good to hear. you should probably sleep soon, though, i don’t want to keep you up too late.”
“yeah,” you say, barely audible. were you expecting too much? “changmin should probably be done by now, too.”
“hey,” he frowns. “you okay?”
“yeah, i’m okay. just tired,” you tell him, tight-lipped as you smile.
“we never got to talk about your day,” sunwoo mentions, a reminder with gentle insistence. even on the verge of sleep, he was still trying.  “i’m free after dry rehearsal, so we can call again tomorrow night? i wanna hear about it first thing.”
you draw in a breath to agree, but something else slips out instead, the one thing you had tried to keep contained since the beginning. maybe you had brought this upon yourself, holding out for it until midnight slipped between your fingers, the hope in your chest slowly unfurling. you wonder if it was obvious, the remnants scattered at your feet.
"sunwoo," you call softly. the line goes quiet. you almost regret it, the words catching in the back of your throat when you try to speak them, but you imagine what it would be like if you forced your tongue to form them anyway, awkward and wooden and hurt. “i…” it was my birthday, today. did you know? did you forget?
by the kitchen, the big trash bag tied to the outside of your trash can is filled to the brim with plastic cups and paper plates. there’s still wrapping paper you need to throw away left on the counters, leftovers that need to be transferred and stored and put in the fridge. you wonder if you would have felt better about the hassle if sunwoo was there with you—to toss an empty cup into the open bag from across the room, to listen to you talk about your favorite memories from the celebration, to turn off the final light with you at the end of it all. like the old times.
even on call, he could have done most of those things, maybe even save you time from giving him a chiding look when he’d inevitably miss throwing the cup into  the trash bag by half a foot. he never really had to be here, he had just always been with you, in one way or another.
but it wasn’t not really your sunwoo anymore, was it? not really. not since he became more than that kid in the practice room with a pen between his teeth and a metronome in his hand, not since he became synonymous with the brand his name was attached to. and it was unfair of you to expect those kinds of trivial things from someone so far out of your reach now, right?
so the question remains a lump as you swallow it down—close your eyes, blink back the tears, it's your fault in the end, anyway—and smile. "no, nevermind. you must be tired, you should sleep soon."
“are you sure—“
“bye, sunwoo.” 
you watch as the reflection of the flame trembles in the small pool in the center of the cupcake; the wax has long since melted onto the frosting. you blow it out, and the candle leaves only a trace of smoke curling in the air in its wake—silent, alone.
it wasn’t so much that sunwoo had forgotten your birthday, but it was everything that it encapsulated, everything it makes you realize. how he was so much bigger than this, than you, how you shouldn’t have expected him to remember every little thing when he already has so much on his plate and a hundred more important matters to worry about. didn’t you hear the rasp in his voice? the exhaustion that coated each word? how he still took the time to call you at three a.m even after a full day of work and schedules?
you place the melted candle into the trash, carving out the tainted top with an extra knife lying on the counter. don’t be a bother. don’t hinder him with needless things.
the next morning, sunwoo calls in a panic, hurried apologies blurring all his words together in a flurry as he frantically promises to make it up to you when he comes home. you tell him it’s fine, you knew he was tired and busy and you didn’t want him to worry about it, but the soft assurance can’t hide the underlying hurt that splinters between him and you.
and he does keep his promise when he returns. the day after the plane arrives home, sunwoo’s first order of business is to insist on a full day spent together, making it his mission to be at your beck and call the entire time. he showers you with countless presents from his trip overseas and twice as much affection for each day that he was gone, but even underneath all the cheery smiles and excited banter, you can’t shake the feeling from that night. the mess on the floor, the shadows distorted in orange light.
it never really is quite the same, after that.
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after. (love is a martyr.)
life goes on; it always does.
not much changes, at least nothing that isn’t glaringly obvious. you throw yourself into your work like you always have, going to countless songwriting camps and workshops, sending in drafts of songs to a&r teams of various companies only to be rejected then revised and then offered again for other songs and artists by other companies, a continuous cycle that seems to blur all the following days together. the only difference is that your phone stays eerily quiet—no scheduled ding at lunchtime reminding you to eat, no pictures shared throughout the day, no good night phone call to lull you to sleep.
though, you still talk to chanhee from time to time, if only because of his persistent insistence on the matter.
“we’re recording tomorrow,” he mentions, voice crackling over the speaker. you pause for a split second over a half-open cardboard box, hand faltering over the frayed edge of the flap. you’d only recently gotten around to unpacking the rest of your boxes from your move months ago; it wasn’t as if you were too busy to get around to it, but you suppose a part of you wanted to prolong the finality of it all, whether consciously or not. and on this wednesday afternoon on a day off, you figured it was better to do it now than never at all.
you let out an “oh”  in response, grabbing a few things from the box and placing it on the floor to reorganize later. “another comeback?”
chanhee’s chair squeaks as he hums, leaning back. he was in his practice room at the company—you can tell by the way he doesn’t whisper his words to you like they were a secret kept and hidden away. not like whenever he calls you at the dorm, careful of what wounds may open up again if someone were to overhear. “the teasers should be released soon.”
“you seem busy, lately,” you comment distantly, placing the phone on the table and setting it to speaker as you collect as many mini decorative plates and bowls in your hands before you stand up, ready to place them in various places around the living room and kitchen. remnants of the afternoon’s rain slips down the window glass, clouds casting the sky and your apartment a wash of dull gray. “first the tour, then a japanese album, now a comeback—are you sure you’re okay? you’re still taking care of yourself, right?”
“i mean, i’m fine,” chanhee says, a hint of ‘of course i take care of myself, who do you think i am?’ in the retort, “but.” he pauses, taking a breath, and you can tell he tests the words on his tongue before he speaks them. “are you sure it’s me you’re worried about?”
you place a bowl down on the windowsill a little harsher than you mean to. “chanhee.”
“sorry.”
chanhee at least sounds apologetic when he says it, but he interrupts the silence that falls soon after slowly, tentatively asking. “you’re going to listen to it though, right?”
you swallow hard, breathing out a long sigh as you pick up the phone again, holding it to your ear as you speak. “of course i am. did you even need to ask?”
“no,” he replies, a second’s pause where you think he shakes his head. “i just wanted to hear it from you for certain. to hear that you were still listening to us.”
 ‘to sunwoo.’ the words go unspoken, lying heavy in the air. it’s almost cruel, the way chanhee picks and pulls at the confession you have hidden like a wound just finished scabbing over, especially when he knows your answer just as well as you do. of course you would still be listening to sunwoo—that’s what you had promised him, way back when.
(the memory flashes by in an instant. the chill of a cool spring night, the squeak of the swing, the dim golden light of the street lamp above. you can still feel it, sometimes, the condensation slick on your fingertips, the bite of cold metal through your palm—the warmth, in spite of that.)
a small part of you whispers, what were promises really worth, in the end? you aren’t the same person you used to be, and neither is he. sixteen is a far cry from where you are in your twenties, the weight of the years lived through making you let go of the things a teenage-you wouldn’t have ever dreamed of—and that was normal, letting bits and pieces of your past selves be carried away by the passage of time. you know the same holds true for him, too.
but still. even if everything else had changed, you feel like it’s your duty, almost. to always be listening to him till the end.
“i have to go, chanhee,” you tell him, quiet. he makes a small noise over the phone, and before he can apologize, you interrupt with a small, “you’re fine. i just need to finish unpacking my stuff, and i promised myself i’d finish it all today.”
“you still haven’t unpacked?” he asks, baffled. “it’s been months?”
“i know,” you sigh, giving a little shrug. “i’ve just never gotten around to it. that’s why i have to finish it today or else i know i’ll never get back to it again.”
chanhee tells you to take care of yourself, to which you dryly remark to focus on following your own advice first and you say your farewells goodnaturedly, pressing to end the call.
it’s like a switch flips, silence falling almost immediately throughout the apartment, the heaviness in your chest weighted down even further in your solitude. you run a finger along the textured edge of the cardboard flap again, staring blankly at the items still wrapped tight in the box. a breath—in, then out, and then you blink it away, getting to work.
the box of posters and prints gets emptied out first, a roll of tape by your side as you hang up any remaining decorations that you’d left to a later affair when you’d first moved into the apartment. afterwards comes the books that you shelve carefully in alphabetical order in the small slot beneath the tv, then the living room curtains, the pack of postcards and holiday wishes kept in a tin case for safekeeping, the old journals you wrote in years ago and never looked back on since. you sometimes wonder if you should just throw them away, but you could never bring yourself to do it; you try to chalk it up to being too attached to the idea of the memories, even if you could never truly look at them again.
you heave the final box into your bedroom, hours later, huffing as you set it down in front of the drawers. sliding the bottom drawer open, the crumpled pile of clothes stuffed inside stares back at you. outside the window, golden hour peaks through your blinds, the sunset shedding just enough light for you to see in the dimness of your room. you crouch down onto the floor, knees knocking against the wood as you slowly take each article of clothing out, one by one to refold.
it was all clothes that you could afford to spare a second glance at, old shirts and pants that you never truly wore on a daily basis, clothes that were kept as another ‘just in case.’ and like the postcards and the journals and everything else in those boxes, the clothes crammed in that small space just seemed like something you kept choosing to not look at, to refuse to address in any way but in brief memory. you had told yourself that you’d always come back to it whenever you’d unpack the rest of the box of clothes, but looking back on it, maybe that was just a way of comforting yourself amidst the avoidance.
still, in the faint darkness of the room, you take each shirt out carefully, smoothing out the wrinkles and folding each crease to be in its proper shape. you had forgotten some of them existed, drawing out a small smile when you see the old mickey mouse shirt your mom had gotten you on her trip to disneyland, the student-made shirts from your high school graduating class, the club shirts you had joined in college. each refolded shirt gets stacked onto a pile beside the box, a reminder to go back and put the clothes from the box back in the drawer as well, but when you pull out the last shirt jammed in the far end of the drawer, you stop.
it’s nothing special, really, just a faded pink t-shirt with what seems like some semblance of a barely legible logo printed onto the front, but you clutch the fabric between your fingers, a memory from long ago surging back.
(“sunwoo…”
“yeah?” sunwoo pokes his head around the corner, morning sun dyeing his black hair a shade of light brown. he has a towel half-folded in his hands, corners lined up unevenly with one another. “what’s up?”
you frown, partially because you see a very near future of refolding all of the laundry he didn’t pay enough attention to, and partially because of the thing in your hands. “...you didn’t happen to put that one vintage white shirt you had in the latest pile, right?”
he frowns, eyebrows scrunching as he thinks. “i don’t know, maybe? why?”
slowly, as if to make him bear witness, you present to him his formerly treasured white shirt, freshly washed and dried, now dyed a clean shade of pale pink. “you put them in with my reds.”
sunwoo’s mouth gapes open just slightly, a small ‘ah’ escaping his lips. “i’m guessing we can’t do takebacksies on that?”
you groan, smothering your face into the shirt as you let out a long, exasperated “kim sunwoo…”
he tosses the towel in his hands onto the edge of the hamper as he steps into the laundry room, taking a closer look at it. “hey, it’s not even a big deal!” sunwoo reasons, trying to gently pry the shirt from your hands, but you wave it around accusingly before he gets a chance to get a firm grip on it.
“what do you mean,” you stress, waving the shirt that much more vigorously. “it was vintage! who knows how much you spent on this damn thing! and now it’s…” your eyes fall to it, defeated. “pink…”
“you know what, though?” he begins, taking your hands in his, and you meet his gaze, doubtful. “this is good. i’ve been wanting to give you one of my shirts anyway.”
“wha—”
sunwoo’s eyes light up, holding your hands excitedly. “it’s like, symbolic, you know? your shirt with my shirt dyed all together, it’s like…” he pauses, giving you a cheeky smile. “it’s like it’s you and me together forever.”
you can’t control the giggle that escapes after he says it, letting go of the shirt as you smack him lightly with bubbling laughter between your lips. as infectious as his smile is, dust floating in the streams of sunlight between, you call him lame for the cheesy comment because he is—he is lame for coming over to your place on his rare weekend off and of all the things he could do, he offers to fold your laundry together while simultaneously ruining one of his pieces of clothing in the process of trying to help, and then spins it in a way where none of it really matters because at the end of the day he knows it’s always just going to be him and you.
“and also, i just really want to see you in another one of my shirts.”
you throw the abandoned towel from the hamper into his face and tell him to go fold it instead, affection ever-present in your eyes. lame.)
that morning seems so far away when you think of it now. you bring the shirt to your face again—maybe for nostalgia’s sake, maybe to get some trace of what once was. wrinkles littered throughout the fabric, the smell of old wood from being stuffed in a drawer for months permeates through the shirt; darkness falls in the room as the sun fully sets, leaving only a sliver of dark orange lining the horizon.
you remember it, still. the scent of freshly washed fabric softener and the soft morning light and the heap of other clothes you and sunwoo had painstakingly gone over twice to make sure nothing else had leaked through and been dyed other colors, playful and teasing. you wonder what he would say to you if he saw you now, sitting on the floor with piles of clothes folded even with the wrinkles still tight. what he would say to you, if you listened.
and when you hold the shirt still for a second longer, breathing it in again, you realize that even the small traces of his old cologne were gone, too, all washed out with time.
you remember it all, and none of it is there anymore.
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before. (love is like clouds, like fog.)
it’s a bit floaty, how the night comes to an end.
(sunwoo had arrived at your place around one a.m., hands shoved in his jacket pockets as he rocked back slightly on his feet, giving you a half-cheeky half-abashed grin. “i don’t suppose you’d be in the mood for a midnight snack, would you?”
already clad in warm pajamas and almost all finished washing up, you had stared at sunwoo for a long moment, slowly blinking, before creaking your door open wider and stepping to the side. “it’s cold. do you want ramyun?”)
he’d come immediately after practice, the sessions where they’d spent the entire day at the studio and only managed to come home at the insistence of their managers. it was for something they were preparing for, you know that for sure, so you hold your tongue from chiding him for not calling you ahead of time and instead shuffle to your kitchen, pot clanging onto the stove.
he was under enough stress as of late; you tried to support him in the ways you could, no matter how little they were.
when you both finish the two packs of ramyun and he offers to wash the pot, you shoo him away with a threatening slap of the pink rubber gloves by the sink, telling him to go wash up instead under the pretense of his post-practice sweat stinking up your entire apartment. sunwoo gasps, retorting that he smelled perfectly fine, but you give him a single look and he trudges away into the hallway, a weak indignant kick to the floor as he mumbles under his breath.
it never really comes up directly, the topic of disbandment, from you or from him. you talk of the preparation of road to kingdom, the exhaustion and stress that comes along with it, the weight its potential success carries unspoken between it all. you’re not entirely sure if the avoidance of the topic is deliberate on his part or not, but you try not to push for it too much. you know just as well as he does, and neither of you try to make it anything more than that.
“you know what,” he starts, later in the night when both of you are washed up and curled up in bed. “i’ve been thinking about it recently; it wouldn’t be so bad.”
you raise a curious brow, propping your head up as you turn to get a better look at him. “what wouldn’t?”
“you know, becoming a house husband.”
“sunwoo,” you blink. “what.” it was way too late for him to just be saying shit like this.
“i am just saying!” sunwoo gestulates dramatically with a hand, trying to prove his point. “if it doesn’t work out, i can definitely do the cooking and cleaning around this place while you go to work.”
“you can’t even clean up after yourself.”
“i can, i just don’t want to!”
you cast him a doubtful look, one filled with the knowledge that eric still complains daily about the pile of clothes tossed in the living room that are definitely sunwoo’s no matter how hard he tries to deny it, and that changmin loses half a year of his life every time he discovers another face mask sunwoo had slapped onto the wall or ceiling of their dorm room, and that the electricity bill at their dorm would run them to mere pennies if younghoon was never there to turn off the lights that sunwoo was supposed to. “is there a difference…”
“yes!” sunwoo insists, a strangely adamant look on his face. “i could totally do it. you would come home from a long and busy day of work and i’d have your entire dinner hot on the stove with a warm bath ready for you—you wouldn’t even have to lift a finger if i was there.”
you place a hand slowly on his, a placating gesture. “baby…” you coo, appeasing, and sunwoo tries to control his expression to keep up the indignancy. poorly, with the way he almost fumbles his entire stance at the mere mention of the petname, but at least you can tell he’s trying his hardest. “i think you’d burn my entire apartment down. or flood it, depending on which one goes horribly wrong first.”
“how could you!” he exclaims, pulling his hand away. “ye of little faith…” sunwoo’s voice goes grave and solemn. “don’t you want to see me in a sexy apron.”
“if i wanted to see you in a sexy apron, i would just give one to you.”
and even though sunwoo sulks and pulls a face at you, his insistence turns a bit softer when he repeats, “really, though.”
 he goes quiet, picking at a loose thread on your comforter. “it wouldn’t be so bad, if…if it doesn’t work out.” ‘it’ being road to kingdom, ‘it’ being their next album, ‘it’ being the boyz as a whole; your heart sinks. “i think the rest of us would just go back home, you know? maybe we’d pretend that these past years never happened, maybe all these memories would just turn bitter, but…” sunwoo gives you a lopsided smile, soft. “i would still come back home to you.”
the sentiment aches a little, your breath hitching as you try to rifle through the layers of emotions that sink to the bottom of your stomach, like picking at skin still raw underneath and not yet ready to peel. you wonder if he means it, if he truly sees you as a home to come back to or if you’re just something familiar, something safe; it’s not much of a distinction, but the details make all the difference—whether you’re somewhere he belongs, or if you’re simply kept sepia-tinted as a place to keep his preserved youth. the words escape from you before you can stop them.
“you don’t have to, you know.”
sunwoo pauses, and there’s a silence that falls soon after that makes you shrink into yourself, regretting words that can’t be taken back. “what do you mean?”
“if it doesn’t…” you don’t want to speak it into existence—they’ll do well, they have to. you try to form your words carefully, deliberately, so that they’ll be spoken correctly and convey exactly what it is you mean, but it all comes poorly anyway, clumsy and messy as you trip over your own tongue. “you don’t have to…you know.” your mouth goes dry. “stay.” 
sunwoo tries to not look offended at the suggestion, even if his furrowed brows say it all. but despite his own feelings on the matter, he tries his best to reign in his instinctive reaction, instead going to slowly coax you away from the ledge you’ve driven yourself to.
“i mean, i know i don’t have to,” he purses his lips, frowning. “it’s not like i feel obligated or anything, but i want to.” i love you, he means. i want to love you, i choose to love you.
there are a lot of things about sunwoo that you don’t quite understand—how he can internalize his envy to fuel his ambition, or how he still remains soft-hearted even after all these years, but you can’t begin to understand why sunwoo still holds onto you when you’ve long since stopped being something that he needs, nothing but a safe reminder of what once was. does he know? can he sense the way the two of you have started constantly tiptoeing around each other while trying to keep up an easy sense of normalcy, the memory of youth neither of you can return to? 
you’ve been holding back from each other—not just him, but you too. it’s easy, to slip into old banter and avoid the things bothering you, to play the part of your teenage selves full of passion and hopeful, unattained dreams, and maybe sunwoo knows this too. maybe he knows and he doesn’t want to admit it, allowing his world to be rose-colored to cling onto a past that leaves him loveblind to what he really needs, to keep him from acknowledging the fact that you’re nothing but a fragment of the past, something kept to fester.
sunwoo is a star, you think—no, you know. you’ve known for quite some time now, how he was bright and shining and meant for things lightyears away from anything you could ever see, and yet here he was instead: inside your apartment late at night in your bed, talking about how he was ready to fall back down to earth to be with you. like you were tying him down to somewhere he was never meant to stay, he was never meant to be.
and an hour later, when time sits between the precipice of twilight and dawn, you whisper an apology to him so faint it lingers in the air, floating between you and sunwoo’s still form. you’re sure he doesn’t hear it, that he’s been sound asleep for the past couple of minutes and it remains a secret between you and the not-yet-risen sun, but sunwoo shifts slightly, blinking at you in the dark, and ah. he wasn’t asleep after all.
turning to fully face you, he sits up to match your posture and takes a breath, a hand coming to rest on the back of your head as he bumps his forehead gently into yours. his eyes flicker over your features, concern etched clear even in the blinking drowsiness. “what?” what are you talking about, are you okay?  “what for?”
you shake your head, leaning into his touch as if to have the memory of him last just a little longer on your skin. it’s too much to say, too much of a weight to have sunwoo shoulder alongside you. so you tamp it down, swallowing back the lump in your throat as you blink away the heat behind your eyes. i’m just sorry. for everything.
sunwoo’s brows furrow, sheets rustling as he shifts again to sit up straighter, but you find his hand gently, threading your fingers through his as you smile—something soft and tender and so full of burdens it slips through and becomes fragile instead.
“it’s okay. nevermind.”
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after. (love is a dream, lingering.)
you’re not sure if you can feel your face by the time you come stumbling back into your apartment.
fresh from a work dinner, the alcohol still buzzes in your system even through the barbeque you’d eaten along with the soju, even after the taxi ride home. too many seniors had offered to pour your drinks, all attributing them to the success of the most recently released song you’d worked on, and of course, you had to take it all with two hands, a polite smile, and the burn of the liquid on its way down. even if the taxi ride home had sobered you up slightly, your head still remains fuzzy and unfocused by the time you find the right key to your apartment and fumble with it before opening up the door.
you kick off your shoes by the front and drop your bag somewhere by the kitchen before making your way to the living room, coat thrown on the ground as you crumple yourself in the space between your coffee table and the foot of the couch. slipping your phone out of your pocket, you wince at the sudden brightness of the screen as it lights up. the apartment always seemed loneliest, like this.
it’s late, almost two in the morning from what you can make out from the glare of the screen, but you only look at it for a second before you swipe up, squinting as you enter your passcode. everything after this, you know, has morphed its way into being muscle memory more than anything else. 
you ignore the warning that pops in the corner of your phone in a red-laced ‘20% remaining’ and you let the practiced motions take over, tapping phone, then voicemail, and before you know it you’re back where you always are, staring at the only recording in your inbox before you press play.
a few seconds of silence fill the air, static crackling over the speaker, and then a voice speaks.
“hey.” it comes out shaky, just barely enough for you to tell. you want to say you probably wouldn’t have been able to hear it if you hadn’t listened to it so many times by now, but truthfully, you’d heard the slight tremble in the voice since the very first time.
(it was sunwoo, after all. how could you not know?)
sunwoo takes in a sharp breath, the beginning of an apology readying to end the call caught in his throat; you sometimes try to imagine a world where the apology goes through, where he instead tells you sorry, i shouldn’t have called and hangs up before the point of no return, but you’re glad this is the world you live in instead. the one where sunwoo swallows past the regret and starts to speak again, too light and full of faux casualness for his easy demeanor to be sincere, the one where you have the chance to hear his voice again. “strange hearing from me, right? shit, i don’t even know if this is still your number—i guess i could have asked chanhee-hyung to make sure but i’m not sure he would have been too happy to hear me ask about you.” 
he pauses, and from the amount of times you’ve listened to it you’ve made into something resembling a little game, filling in the gaps of what he could have done in the pockets of silence—like he’d squeezed his eyes shut at the thought, or he’d pressed into the spot between his eyes to fight away the image of chanhee’s disapproving stare. “he always did that, you know. for a long time after…” sunwoo bites his tongue. “i think it was pity, like he felt bad. not that he needed to, or anything, but you know how he is.”
he pauses again, as if scrambling for what to say next, what direction to take the one-sided conversation. “i, um, i don’t know if you heard, but we recently moved to a new dorm. we split into three separate ones, so we all got our own room, and you think that’d be great and everything after sharing a room with kevin-hyung for the past few years but we played rock, paper, scissors for our room picks and—” indignancy sneaks its way into his cadence, and you smile at this part always “—i really think i got the smallest room. i’m pretty sure it’s smaller than the bathroom. and jacob-hyung got the biggest room!” sunwoo continues, grumbling. “i’m not mad about it or anything, it’s fine… it just seems a little unfair, don’t you think? and, and…”
your eyes flicker, watching the seconds on the timestamp tick by as sunwoo continues to ramble about the most miniscule of things: more dorm shenanigans that sunwoo insists he was completely innocent in, how he’d run into jihoon backstage during a music show after not seeing him for a while, the pictures his members had posted for his birthday that he claims could have potentially ruined his ‘sexy and charismatic’ image with the fans forever. it all feels like he’s scraping the surface, the real reason he called still buried deep beneath all the frivolous hedging; it’s become almost obvious, given the amount of times you’ve listened to it, how each word is just another second stalled trying to build up enough courage.
and finally, when all of sunwoo’s pretense dies, when the lull at the other end of the line comes again, whatever he was planning on saying next deflates as he goes quiet, finally gathering enough courage for the whole truth. you mouth the words, ears buzzing, the timing and cadence seared into your memory.
“you were in my dream last night.”
you remember the morning you’d woken up to this voicemail, remember your thumb hovering over play but not finding it in yourself to press it. you know—you’ve known since the beginning that the recording would only add to your troubles, but on a night like tonight where the noise of the work party still echoes in your head and the apartment feels lonelier than ever after a tipsy ride home, the bruise feels too tender for you to do anything but press into it, over and over and over again.
“i’m not even sure why i called you just to tell you that—i didn’t even get to say it to you.” sunwoo lets out a wry laugh. “i mean, of course you wouldn’t pick up, it’s five in the morning, i don’t really know what i was expecting, but i…no.”  the confession tumbles from his lips, shaky and vulnerable and no matter how many countless times you’ve heard it, it still feels like slicing open an old wound. “i think i just wanted to hear your voice.”
sometimes, you let this section play out fully, his words like tiny shards of glass forming cuts on your skin without stopping; other times, you press pause just to replay it, just to hear him say it again, just to feel the sting and ache as you try to recreate the rawness you’d felt the very first time you heard it. salt in a wound is still salt no matter what name it tries to go by, but you suppose that’s why you’ve trapped yourself in this routine in the first place—to make sure the bruise still hurts, to pick at the scab just to see it bleed.
“i guess it just didn’t work out though, did it? your voicemail’s still the same automated message it’s been since high school, so all i’m really doing here is embarrassing myself.” everything laid down and exposed with no walls left to hide behind, sunwoo’s words come quiet and fragile. “i think a part of me expected it to still be the same, but—maybe the other part of me hoped things had changed. isn’t that ironic?” he breathes out a small resigned laugh. “change is what got us here in the first place, and now here i am, talking to myself and leaving a voicemail to a number that i’m not even sure is yours. pretty stupid of me, right?”
sunwoo swallows hard and so do you, the memory of the words ringing in your ears before he speaks them. “i miss you,” he says eventually. “i’m sorry.”
the faint static on the other end of the line tapers on for one, two, three seconds more before the recording finally ends, stretching into true silence. the first few times you had listened to it, you’d kept your ear pressed to the speaker, replaying those last few seconds desperate for anything else you could have missed, anything you could make out after his final words. now, you simply stare at the screen, still burning bright in the dark.
it’s almost funny, the way this has formed itself into something resembling a bad habit. every time, you go through the motions like they’re old and used and worn because they are, no matter how much you refuse to admit it; and each time, you take the shame and the guilt that curls in your stomach and ball it up inside of you, letting it seep into your bones, so that the next morning when you wake up, you can look at yourself with your newly polished and clean exterior and pretend that it’s merely something left in the past.
but for now, you hit play on the recording again, watching the seconds tick by once more.
(the next morning, you wake up to your phone still in your hands, battery completely dead, the previous night nothing but a pounding headache and a blur of what might have been. a new day, and yet it all feels like the same motions all over again. 
you ignore the calcified shame within you, play ignorant to the cycle that will inevitably repeat itself the next time a night like that comes again, and you pretend that this is the one thing you won’t let go of, even if it turns into all you have left.)
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before. (—you were my youth.)
it’s a tuesday night when you see sunwoo again.
dressed only in sweats and a jacket for extra warmth, you had just finished your regularly scheduled convenience store snack run, plastic bag in hand, when you turn the corner and see a glimpse of him: backpack slung over his shoulder, trudging steps, wearing single gray hoodie that was no doubt too thin for him to not catch a cold on an early spring night. blinking, you register the familiar face for a split second before you call out after him, half-jogging to catch up.
“hey! hey, sunwoo!”
for a moment, it’s almost as if he doesn’t hear you; and then, his foot stops in front of the other, hand moving to take out an earbud. sunwoo turns around, gaze wandering until he meets your gaze. his eyes light up in recognition as he makes out your face in the residual light from the convenience store windows, the glow of the street lamp a few feet away.
he holds up a hand for a polite wave. “oh, hey.”
“heading home?” you ask, peering at him. you hadn’t really seen much of him these past few months, other than the increasingly sparse times you’d spot him in class.
“yeah,” sunwoo nods, a slight smile to go along with it. “just got back from training.”
“ah, i see.” it’s a little strange, looking at him now. even if you hadn’t taken a good look at him recently, you could still tell something was a little off about him; maybe in the way he was carrying himself, the heaviness of his step, the half-hearted way his smile didn’t look quite like the one you were used to.
then again, what did you know? it wasn’t as if you were best friends or anything—after you’d partnered with him for that one project months ago, you’d only talked to him a handful of times, either in passing or when you saw each other around. calling him a close friend would be far from the truth, but calling him just a classmate wouldn’t exactly be accurate either. you suppose he stood in a strange middle ground, one you didn’t seem to mind.
but even so, maybe even just the implication of friendship was enough for the concern to fully settle itself into your mind, the reason why you can’t bring yourself to just brush off his exhaustion as a result of the late hour, and why you impulsively jab your thumb towards the neighborhood playground a block away, the plastic bag in your hands rustling from the motion. “you wanna make a small pitstop before you go?”
and surprisingly, despite a moment’s hesitation, sunwoo takes you up on the offer.
it’s how you find yourself sitting together on the swingset, the subtle squeak of metal on metal almost serving as a familiar comfort as you rock back and forth, heels digging into the bark beneath. “i heard you got into loen, right?” you try, peeling your awkward stare from the chipped paint on the side of the swing over to the boy next to you. “how is that going? i never really got the chance to congratulate you on it.”
“it’s good,” sunwoo replies, almost on instinct, but before he can continue, he closes his mouth instead. the rest of the sentence tapers off into an awkward silence, leaving you to fill in the gaps.
“tough?” you ask, more of a rhetorical than anything else. maybe you were overstepping your bounds by prying, but the least you could do is offer a lending ear, especially now that you were both here anyway. “i might not be a trainee,” you offer, “but i know it can’t be easy.”
sunwoo presses his lips into a line, swallowing in contemplation, before nodding.
“i don’t know,” he confesses, the toe of his shoe digging a hole into the woodchips. “it’s definitely hard, but it’s not just that… i like that it’s hard, you know? it means i’m challenging myself and it means i’m learning, it’s just—they said they’re selecting the debut lineup soon.” the swing chain squeaks between the rustling of the bark. “what if i don’t make it?”
(what if i never make it?)
you get it—the uncertainty that haunts every step of this path. you’ve seen enough of your friends and classmates drop everything to pursue their dreams, only to have it thrown back in their face, failures either resulting in a renewed perseverance or the battering of their soul. and even if you weren’t taking part in the same rigorous and merciless training process that plagues them, the crumbling foothold follows you too, at times, all for a dream you can’t ensure will spare you even pennies in return.
but you do it because you want to, because you have to, because you love it too much for there to be any other option you’d be willing to fathom. and in spite of the short time you’ve gotten to know him, you’re sure the same holds true for sunwoo, too.
“then you try again.” his head shoots up, and you meet his eyes with a smile. “and you keep trying and trying until you can’t anymore—because you love it, right? dancing, singing, performing? you wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t.”
you watch his expression carefully as your words land, waiting for the smallest sign to back off, but instead, sunwoo gives you a resolute nod, taking each word to heart.
“you can do it,” you tell him, every word sincere. “i know you can.”
there’s a certain weight in his gaze afterwards that almost makes you regret having said it, almost like you’ve overstepped in your own direction instead. what were you even doing?
 the sudden intimacy of the moment settles into your stomach all at once, and you try to grasp at anything to bring back the lighthearted mood of a few minutes ago—for your own sake. clearing your throat, you try to dispel the sudden heaviness in the air.
“in any case,” you start, rifling through your bag. fishing out a container of strawberry milk, you stand up and walk over to sunwoo, pressing it against his cheek; he jumps from the sudden cold against his skin. “you know we have exams coming up, right?”
sunwoo groans, raising a hand to take the milk. “what if i just dropped out like jihoon?”
before he can grab it, you press the container harder into his face, frowning. “don’t even think about it!”
“but…” sunwoo looks up at you with sad, shining eyes, panhandling for a single ounce of pity. “that means no more exams…”
“and then what,” you reply dryly.
he finally takes the milk from your hands, pressing it to his forehead with his eyebrows furrowed, the beads of condensation threatening to slip down his palm. “okay, you have a good point.”
you roll your eyes, but sunwoo snaps his head up after a second of thinking longer, milk sloshing in the container at the sudden motion. “you wouldn’t leave me out to die all on my own, would you?”
“huh—”
sunwoo pleads your name in a dramatic fashion, hesitating a little before grabbing your hands to continue his spiel. you have a brief yet vivid image of his resemblance to a raccoon digging through your trashcan in your front yard. begging for scraps… “you have to remember me when you’re famous, okay…”
“sunwoo,” you exasperate, trying to pry your hands away from his, freezing and wet from the cold milk. “you aren’t dropping out and you are not becoming homeless.”
he nods enthusiastically. “right, because i’d have you!”
“don’t you have any other friends?”
sunwoo looks you dead in the eye, his grip tightening. “i have friends, but you would have the songwriting royalties.”
“for the last time,” you groan, finally slipping your hand away from his grasp. “you’re not gonna drop out, and you’re not going to become homeless! and you’re going to make it!” you rub your hand gingerly on the side of your jacket to wipe off the excess condensation. “enjoy the strawberry milk, i’m gonna head home.”
you turn and take a few steps, only for sunwoo to call out to you again. “hey, wait.”
pausing, you look back curiously. “yeah?”
“if…” he starts slowly, staring at the milk in his hands. “when i debut,” he rescinds, meeting your eyes. “will you listen? to me, i mean—even if you’re the only one?”
“i definitely won’t be the only one,” you chide, stuffing your hands in your pockets. the night air was growing colder by the second, remnants of winter lingering in the beginnings of spring. funnily enough, you don’t really seem to mind the chill. “we’ll make it, okay? we’ll make it together.”
you attempt to leave it at that, but the way he looks back at you, sunwoo holds the question between the two of you, still waiting for your answer—like he would have waited forever for it, if he needed to. and despite your previous unfamiliarity with sunwoo in this sort of setting, you figured it would be cruel to deny him of at least an earnest answer.
“to answer your question, though.” you try to look away to break the weight of his gaze, but you find yourself pulled back to it anyway. finding the resolve to match his, you step forward again. he needed to hear this; and maybe, you needed to say it, too. 
“of course i will.” tonight’s moon waxes, its light peeking through the clouds. “i’ll always be rooting for you, kim sunwoo.”
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after. (yet. love is always, always, a choice.)
the first few times you see the video on your recommended page, you try to ignore it.
you shove it to the back of your mind and you tell yourself it can wait just a little longer, that there’s no difference from watching it a few days from now. except the days stretch on into weeks, and it still remains untouched, lingering forever in an endless present. the video itself isn’t anything big, objectively speaking, but the heaviness of it weighs on you every time you see the title, knowing what it consists of: special release from kim sunwoo of the boyz, self-composed track.
it’s not exactly breaking the promise you had made to him all those years ago, more like putting it on hold. and maybe it’s for the best, the waiting period, but the longer you wait, the more things just keep piling on and shoved into the shelf to collect dust over the past few months—their last single, the mini-album that followed after, and now this. you had tried, that first time chanhee had asked you about it. you couldn’t make it far before you had to turn it off.
you tell yourself you’ll get around to it when it stops hurting, a soft assurance to still keep your promise, but you know it’s hypocritical to give yourself that easing comfort when in the same breath you’ve been pressing into the bruise again and again, never giving it the time and space to heal. the pain has never stopped you before, rather, you’ve grown close with the ache, the faint memory of the wound, but there’s something distinctly different about listening to his music that hurts too much for you to continue. 
maybe it’s the way it brings you back to that classroom and that swingset and everything you know you can never go back to; or maybe, despite the voicemail that you still come back to on the loneliest of nights and the wrinkled shirt that remains crumpled in the corner of your room, a part of you knows that the salt in the wound would be nothing compared to digging an even deeper, uglier wound in a cut scabbed over. that’s only what it could feel like, if you listened to him before you were ready. 
you want the memories as a lingering taste alone, but you’re scared that if you go back to that promise with two feet planted and an open heart, if you delve into the memories completely, you won’t be able to come back out.
tonight is different, though.
you want to blame it on the hour that hosts the beginning of dawn, or the way you can’t go back to sleep, or the dream you’d had before you had woken up, the details fading more each second. but when the video appears once again, thumbnail ingrained into your mind, you don’t even need to look at the title before you finally click on it.
(you had dreamt of him, that night. 
it was a good dream, you think, at least in the moment—more of an old memory than anything else. sunwoo had come over the night before his birthday for an early celebration, insisting on being congratulated by you first thing once the clock struck twelve. you remember it being a small celebration, just the two of you in your apartment together with cheesy decorations and balloons blown up spelling out his name and a golden ‘hbd’ strung along the walls. 
the rest of it comes in and blurs together in flashes: the strawberry cake you’d bought to share together, the way you’d wiped the frosting on his nose only for him to smear a bigger chunk onto your cheek, the shoddy match that came with the cake that sunwoo couldn’t light, no matter how hard he tried to save himself from the embarrassment.
and usually when you wake up from a good dream, you fall asleep again soon after, just to catch the traces of the dream before it’s gone forever. but you’re trying, slowly in your own way, to not do things like that anymore. after all, eventually the shirt needs to become just another shirt, and your voicemail will one day go back to having no more recordings saved. 
you want to think you have it in you—to let the wound finish scabbing over and heal, to finally let it fade into almost nothing but a brief mark of time in your skin.)
the music starts the second the video starts to play, and you feel a pull at your gut, an inner voice whispering. you can still back out, it says, soothing. you haven’t hit the point of no return yet. it’s okay if you’re still not ready.
but then sunwoo’s voice cuts through the noise, each word sung with his heart on his sleeve, and that part of you grasping for any form of protection left instantly goes quiet. if it were about anything else, maybe you could have rationalized it to yourself and clicked out of the video, convince yourself to go back to sleep and that it was okay to wait. another time, another day, another world.
when he sings, he sings of you, he sings to you, and you remember that you had never truly listened to the words he’d wanted to say to you since you’d sent that text that ended everything that night—not really. didn’t you owe him, then, at least this?
so you swallow hard, and you blink until lights dot the inside of your eyelids, and you listen.
(sunwoo’s lyrics talk of love, how he had wanted to be yours. he had wanted to be yours forever, and yet he ended up losing you and maybe that was his fault; maybe if he had shown you his love better then you wouldn’t have let him go, then you would still be by his side instead of appearing only when he closes his eyes, unsure to call you a dream or a nightmare. not that it mattered, you were still his universe, no matter what. even in the hurt, it was still love)
it’s all wrapped up in pretty lyricism and intricate metaphors to keep the listener guessing for the true meaning, but you’ve always understood him best when it was through song. you think you had forgotten that, after so many years together and knowing him through everything else, but with the music playing through your headphones and the screen of your computer flashing the images in the silence of your apartment, it was like coming back to your roots. like you were in that classroom with a pen and paper and that playground with the chill of spring still warm on your beating hearts and how you’ve known him intimately before you even knew you could.
it all felt so simple, back then. like budding love was all you would ever need, before everything else got in the way, but—no. you stop at the thought. that’s not quite it.
(pause, rewind, play.)
it was always simple to sunwoo. he was a star burning bright and blind to you, growing farther from your reach each passing day, but to him, you were never anything less than the universe itself. was it truly so horrible—bearing attachment to his youth? you were still growing beside him, right? you were the home he wanted to return to, weren’t you?
and yet you were the one who had smeared the paint before it could finish drying, the one who had felt so alone in watching the wear of a bridge you had deemed impossible to save. and at the end of the day, maybe the fault fell partly on both of you, stepping onto that unsteady footing together with the rope of the bridge fraying with the weight of time, but you were the one who had taken that last step to the other end without him even knowing.
lit match in your hands, you had burned that bridge for what you’d perceived to be the greater good, to destroy it before it could collapse and take both of you with it. an act of cowardice disguised as selflessness, you’re left to stare at nothing but the ashes and cinders you had set aflame. but in the wreckage, only after everything do you finally understand what that indiscernible emotion was in his eyes when he looked at you, what he had meant that night by choosing to love you.
in the silence, daylight breaks, your once dark apartment beginning to tinge a soft yellow glow.
(the ground beneath your feet steady, you look to the other end of what once was, carrying the pieces of wood in your hands. if you tried to build that bridge towards sunwoo again, panel by panel, could you rebuild something stronger from the ashes? would sunwoo help if he knew, repairing each step together with you?
you’re not afraid of finding out the answer—not anymore.)
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epilogue. (love is gravity.)
the sun rises fully soon after, the sky turning into a brighter, deeper shade of blue as the hour passes. still lingering along the edge of dawn, you know if you looked outside you would see the frost beginning to melt on the blades of grass, the slow trickle of cars onto the road as people were starting to head to work. it’s subtle, the difference between five a.m. and six a.m., but it’s enough for you to feel the shift in the air.
gnawing at your lip, you reach for the phone lying on the table. it’s an aching sense of déjà vu as you unlock your phone and scroll through your contacts, searching for a single name. you can only imagine if this is what sunwoo felt like, the night he’d called you, half-hopeless as you press the phone to your ear, the first dial tone ringing. 
(you want to let yourself not hurt anymore—to allow the wound to heal, to finally let go of all the shame inside of you. it’s your first step in trying to repair that bridge you had once burnt down, your first choice where you try to move forward. but sometimes, to move forward is really to move back to where you want to be, back where you belong.)
each additional ring that repeats comes with decreasing expectation, and you brace yourself for the voicemail message that will inevitably come. of course he wouldn’t pick up this early in the morning, you tell yourself, another ring echoing. you wonder if this will become a new pattern, one voicemail to another, always barely missing each other in efforts to reconcile, always a little too late. trading in one bad habit for another, maybe this was just how it was meant to be.
but you suppose it’s always been like this, ever since the night you broke up with him—how sunwoo has been choosing to love you still, even after, and how you’ve been choosing to still love him too by refusing to truly let him go, orbiting around each other like how gravity is both the reason why a planet circles a star and why they can never ever fall into one another (again). perhaps this is just where the frayed edges of fate have left you, coming together only once before your ends are split away forever.
but when the sixth ring sounds and you prepare to hear the automated message, drawing in a breath to scramble together a message to leave at the beep, you hear a single voice instead. your breath hitches.
“hello?”
your lip trembles as you press the phone harder to your ear, heat surging to the bridge of your nose, the back of your eyes. you try to keep your voice steady but it comes out watery instead, words spilling over before you know it. “hi. it’s me.”
and despite everything, gravity fails, just for an instant, and you and sunwoo collide into each other once again.
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