Chapter Text
The warmth of the late Seoul evening drifted lazily through the tall windows of Lina’s penthouse, the golden hues of the setting sun painting the marble floor in long shadows. The city below buzzed, lights flickering on one by one, but inside the spacious living room, the mood was slow, comfortable — like a well-loved song.
“Unni, where do you keep the mugs again?” Hyune called from the kitchen, standing on her toes to peek into the upper cabinets.
“Second from the left,” Lina answered from the living room, her voice light. “Don’t break any. They’re imported.”
Hyune rolled her eyes and smiled, finding the matching ceramic cups, white with thin navy brushstrokes. She could already smell the chamomile tea steeping on the counter, mingling with the faint lavender scent Lina always had lingering in her home. Clean, soft, lived-in. Just like her.
“How much do you wanna bet Binnie forgot the drinks again?” Hyune asked, loud enough for Lina to hear.
Lina leaned over the back of the couch and grinned. “He said he’d bring cider. Which probably means he’ll bring two cans and drink both himself.”
A knock at the door interrupted them — just one knock, then a pause, then another.
“Classic,” Lina muttered, rising from the couch. She opened the door with a deadpan look.
Changbin strolled in casually, a six-pack of cider in one hand and a family-sized bag of honey butter chips in the other.
“Wow,” Hyune said, pretending to be impressed as she carried the tea tray to the coffee table. “Two entire items. Should we start clapping now or later?”
“I was going to bring actual fruit,” Changbin defended, plopping down dramatically on the carpet. “But someone told me snacks are already covered by rich people.”
Lina raised a brow. “Are you calling me a rich person again, Binnie?”
“I said it with affection, noona,” he grinned, tearing the bag open. “I come here for emotional support and free air conditioning.”
The front door clicked again. A second later, Chris stepped inside.
He was wearing a simple gray hoodie and black jeans, hair still slightly damp from a shower, and eyes warm as they scanned the room.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, slipping off his shoes.
“You’re only late if you didn’t bring dessert,” Lina said, hands on her hips.
Chris lifted a small cake box from behind his back. “Chocolate gateau.”
Lina smirked. “You’re forgiven.”
Chris gave a soft nod to Lina, then turned toward the couch, eyes scanning briefly before settling on Hyune. Hyune tried not to look directly at him as he walked over, but failed the moment he caught her eye.
As he lowered himself into the armchair across from her, his gaze caught something glinting near her collarbone.
“You still wear that star necklace,” he said quietly, the corners of his mouth lifting. “That pendant suits you. Looks like something only you would pick.”
Hyune blinked, startled by the way his voice curled so gently around the words. Her fingers instinctively brushed the little silver star at her neck. It wasn’t a new necklace — something she’d worn without thinking. But now, it suddenly felt precious.
Her heart flipped in her chest, but she gave a soft nod in reply, hiding her face behind the rim of her tea.
“Hyune-ah,” Changbin cut in with a smirk, “Did you know Chan-hyung used to be the top of his class in music production? Keyword: used to.”
Chris threw a pillow across the table at him. “Still better than you at piano, don’t start.”
“I’m better at eating chips,” Changbin said proudly, stuffing one in his mouth.
“You’re good at eating everyone’s chips,” Lina muttered, nudging the bag away from his reach.
They all laughed, the air easy now, the walls echoing with the sound of belonging.
Hyune sat quietly between them, letting the banter wash over her like soft waves. This wasn’t something she’d always had. Two years ago, she’d been too lost in hospital corridors, too weighed down by watching her mother fight for every breath, too numb to reach out.
Lina had changed that.
Flashback —
She remembered the first time she met Lina clearly: their mothers talking over business deals while Hyune stared down at untouched tea in a quiet house. Lina had come into the room and sat beside her, not asking questions, not offering pity. Just being there.
And then, Lina slowly started inviting her — to cafés, art exhibitions, even boring school meetings. Then one day, she brought her to meet her two best friends.
“Chris and binnie” Lina had said that day, pushing Hyune slightly forward. “This is Hyune. Be nice.”
“Hey, Hyune-ah. You drink coffee?”
He handed her a warm paper cup — one of those instant mixes with cream and sugar already stirred in. Somehow, exactly her type.
. She still didn’t know how he knew.
“You’re spacing out again,” Lina teased, poking Hyune’s knee.
“Am I?” she blinked, cheeks warm. “Sorry.”
Chris tilted his head slightly. “Thinking about something nice?”
Hyune hesitated. She looked at him — the soft way he smiled without expecting anything back. The way he always noticed her. The way he never made her feel like she was late to her own life.
She smiled. “Yeah. Something like that.”
Later, after the laughter had turned quieter, and the clock ticked toward 10 p.m., they all began gathering their things.
“I’ll send Hyune-ah home,” Chris offered casually, holding up his keys.
“Take the cake,” Lina said, waving them out. “Or I’ll eat it all tonight.”
The car hummed softly around them, the city lights blurring past the windows like distant stars. Inside, their voices lowered to gentle whispers, weaving through conversations about graduation, the future, and the steady but fragile progress of her mother’s health.
Between words, silence settled — quiet but thick with everything left unsaid. It lingered, wrapping around them like a shared secret neither was ready to voice.
Finally, Chris broke the stillness, his eyes on the road but his voice soft and steady. “After you graduate… there’s something I want to tell you.”
Hyune turned to meet his gaze, curiosity and something deeper fluttering in her chest. “What is it?”
His smile was faint, patient. “Later. I’ll wait.”
She didn’t answer — not with words. But she didn’t look away.
And in the stillness of that moment, something inside her shifted. Just slightly. Just enough to know that whatever she felt for Chris wasn’t small anymore. It never had been.
Notes:
Hi there!!
First time posting — and already far too emotionally invested in my story characters who don’t technically exist.
if you’re drawn to quiet sadness, fragile moments, wounds that don’t heal easily, and the ache of things left unsaid — you might find a home here.this story is full of heartbreak, missed chances, and the slow, messy work of growing through pain. this story has a lot of ache, but it’s got heart, too.
updates will be frequent. the damage will be mutual.thank you for reading — feel free to whisper, cry, or yell in the comments. i’ll be there, probably doing all three.
Chapter Text
The moment Hyune stepped inside, she carefully placed her bag by the stairs and neatly lined up her shoes before heading straight to her room. The apartment was dark and quiet — her parents already asleep, the stillness making her chest feel heavier.
She carefully folded her clothes with practiced ease, then quickly freshened up before settling onto her bed and pulling out her phone, opening the chat she always started with.
🥟: Back home. Still processing tonight tbh
🐶: That good or that weird?
🥟: Little bit of both.
Chris oppa said he has “something to tell me” after I graduate
Like… huh???
🐶: Still doing his mysterious hyung act?
🥟: Yup, Said he’ll wait for the right time. Classic Chris oppa
🐶: He’s not even trying to hide it anymore, is he?
🥟: Nope
Also… he noticed my necklace
The tiny star one
Said it “suits me”
Who says that???
🐶: Apparently someone who’s been staring at your neck long enough to memorize your accessories
🥟: Yah! Don’t make it sound weird
🐶: I’m just saying
That’s a bold move for Mr. Quiet Eyes
🥟: I didn’t even realize I was wearing it
Now it suddenly feels like… a thing?
🐶: That’s how it works
You forget it’s there.
He doesn’t.
🥟: You sound like a Pinterest quote
🐶: I’m deep like that
🥟: No, you’re not
You’re a sarcastic puppy with a smart girlfriend
🐶: Wow
You really had to throw in “smart,” huh?
🥟: Facts are facts
Your girlfriend probably texts you in bullet points.
🐶: She texts in paragraphs...
Like actual journal.
🥟: But you love it
🐶: I plead the fifth
🥟: Not funny. Try again
🐶: You’re just jealous you’ve never dated
🥟: EXCUSE ME
You started dating before you turned 17
Let me live
🐶: Fine, fine
Take your time
Romance comes slower for late bloomers
🥟: I hate you
🐶: You typed that while smiling
🥟: …Shut up
🐶: Still smiling
🥟: Whatever
Anyway, thanks for listening
I kind of needed to vent
🐶: You always do. I’m used to it. It’s cute, though.
🐶: This thing with Chris…
It feels like the start of something
Or maybe something that’s always been there, finally surfacing
🥟: Yah. Don’t get soft on me now
🐶: It’s past 11
You know I get sentimental after 11
🥟: Sleep, you puppy
Big day tomorrow
🐶: You too, dumpling
Don’t dream too hard about your oppa
After their usual goodnights, Hyune stared at the contact name glowing softly on her screen.
🐶 My puppy dongsaeng
She smiled to herself.
Sometimes she wondered if Seungmin even realized how much it meant — the way he always texted back, even if it was just a meme or a dumb one-liner.
He was younger — two years — but it never felt that way.
Back when things with her mom were at their worst, when she couldn’t speak without choking on it, he was the one who sat next to her at the hospital waiting room with a bottle of banana milk. He didn’t ask how she felt. He didn’t push.
He just showed up.
And even now, though they weren’t always in the same place or city, he was still her person—her adorable dongsaeng she could always count on.. The one who made everything feel a little less heavy.
The one she could say anything to. And know it wouldn’t go anywhere.
Seungmin was annoying, dramatic, and had the emotional range of a wet sock sometimes — but when it counted, he was solid.
Notes:
If you’ve ever had a “puppy logic” moment or a full-on “dumpling mood swing,” welcome — you’re officially part of the club 🫶
Thanks for spending the night with Hyune and Seungmin.Did this chapter give you those late-night, cozy-texting-core feels?
I’d love to know what it made you think about — or how it made you feel (even if it’s just “I miss my emotional support dongsaeng”). 💬
Chapter Text
The arcade glowed in soft neon purples and blues, buzzing gently with the hum of machines and flickering LED lights. It was unusually quiet for a Sunday morning—exam season had scared most students off—
Yet here they were—Seungmin, Felix, Innie, and Jisu—high schoolers themselves, laughing and playing as if this little corner of Busan belonged just to them.
Felix was front and center, flailing his arms like a maniac in front of the rhythm dance game, cheeks flushed, tongue slightly peeking out in concentration. His limbs moved half a second too late with each flashing arrow, but his grin? Unshakable.
“Lix-yah, that’s not dancing. That’s fighting for your life,” Seungmin laughed from the prize counter, arms crossed, sipping on a juice box he’d swiped from a vending machine.
“I’m expressing my soul, thank you very much!” Felix called over his shoulder, missing another beat but finishing with a dramatic spin anyway.
His eyes flicked toward Innie, who was sitting nearby with arms crossed and a soft grin, her strawberry hoodie catching the arcade lights just right. She bounced gently with the rhythm of the music, her eyes sparkling as if she was the happiest person in the world. Felix beamed, puffing out his chest a little. “Only the best performance for certain audiences,” he said, with a glance that lingered a beat too long on Innie before he turned quickly away, cheeks a shade pinker.
From the side, Seungmin raised a brow, exchanging a brief glance with Jisu. She didn’t say anything—but her lips quirked slightly behind her hoodie sleeve. She’d seen it too. Seungmin laughed softly, sharing a brief glance with Jisu. Both knew Felix’s crush on Innie was about as subtle as a neon sign—the way he tripped over his words, the clumsy little gifts he always tried to give her, the extra-long glances he couldn’t quite hide. But neither said a word. Instead, they quietly admired their friend’s gentle awkwardness.
Jisu sat curled into the edge of the booth beside Seungmin, oversized hoodie draped like a shield. Her glasses slipped a little down her nose as she watched the arcade through darting, careful eyes. Every loud buzz or cheerful yell from other machines made her shoulders tighten just slightly. Seungmin nudged her gently. “okay, there?” She gave a tiny nod, voice barely above the arcade’s background hum. “Yeah. Just… a lot of noise.”
Felix paused his game and sauntered over, brushing a loose strand of dark hair from his eyes. “Want a break, Jisu-ya? I can totally destroy you at the claw machines instead.” She gave a faint smile, the tension easing just a little. “Already planning your next defeat?” Innie teased, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I’ve almost won that Pikachu three times, Innie-ya. It’s personal now.”
“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, standing anyway. “Let’s see if it likes you better today.”
Felix jumped up like he’d just been granted a second chance at life. Seungmin watched him go, half-laughing, half-shaking his head.
“Have you ever seen him try this hard for anything else?” Seungmin murmured.
“Nope,” Jisu replied quietly, eyes following Felix. “But it’s kind of… sweet.”
Seungmin smiled. “Painfully obvious, though.”
The claw machine round went exactly as expected: Felix nearly won a plushie three times, dramatically sank to the floor twice, and finally managed to snag a crooked little dolphin toy on his fifth try.
With a triumphant yell, he presented it to Innie with both hands like it was a trophy.
“For you, the queen of strawberry hoodies.”
Innie took it with a giggle. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I know,” he said, but his voice was softer this time.
“Okay, team,” Seungmin said, stretching his arms. “One last game. Air hockey. Winner gets bragging rights. Loser buys the ice cream.”
“You mean you buy the ice cream,” Innie corrected.
As they moved, Seungmin kept a watchful eye on Jisu, subtly positioning himself between her and the small clusters of college students nearby. It was an unspoken promise: you’re not alone. She didn’t have to ask. She never did. Somehow, Seungmin always stood just close enough to steady her.
The match was chaos. Innie and Felix made a surprisingly good team despite bickering the whole time. Jisu stood back at first, but eventually stepped in, partnering with Seungmin and actually managing a few impressive goals. There was a moment—brief, but real—when Jisu forgot the noise. Forgot the air felt tight. Forgot the exit signs.
She smiled. And Seungmin saw it.
Outside, the arcade lights flickered behind them, casting the pavement in a soft neon haze. The air smelled faintly of sweet waffles from a nearby street vendor, and the sky was slowly painting itself in hues of dusk.
Innie held her new dolphin keychain up to the light. “Name suggestions?”
“Flop,” Felix offered instantly.
“Rejected.”
Jisu chuckled quietly, still a few steps behind them.
Seungmin walked beside her. That same unspoken awareness—the way he never showed, just stood steady—wrapped around her like a quiet shield. They reached the small plaza where they always parted ways. Bags shuffled, final goodbyes hovered.
Then, Jisu turned to Seungmin. Adjusted her glasses. “You should start now,” she said, soft but certain. “Or else you might miss the KTX.”
For a second, Seungmin just looked at her. He nodded once. “Right.”
Felix threw an arm around him in a half-hug. “Text us when you get there, yeah?”
Innie gave a warm wave. “Safe trip, Seungmin-ah.”
And Jisu—her gaze lingered just a moment longer. Not enough to be obvious. Just enough to feel like a pause in a song.
Seungmin turned and walked into the dimming light, shoes clicking softly on pavement, leaving behind arcade laughs and unspoken questions.
Beside her, Felix nudged Jisu gently, his voice low. “Hope he’ll be okay.”
Jisu looked down at her shoes, then up at the sky. The streetlights were flickering on one by one.
She nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”
Notes:
Hey, thanks for hanging out with Seungmin and the gang in Busan this chapter! 🎉
So, the Karma album drops tomorrow — and let’s all get ready to hit that stream button like it’s our cardio. And knowing Stray Kids, we know the amount of never-ending treat they’ll be releasing after their comeback will be the best part. It’s such a special time to be part of this fandom, and I’m quietly excited to see everything they have in store for us.
Chapter Text
The warm scent of roasted barley filled the Kang household like a hug. It was the kind of Sunday morning that wrapped itself in quiet comfort — early sun peeking through linen curtains, soft floor creaks echoing against polished wood, and the hum of the kettle in the kitchen like a lullaby. Hyune was still half-asleep, curled under her blanket, when her bedroom door creaked open and her mother’s voice floated in, bright with excitement. “Hyune-ah, come out — there’s someone here to see you.”
“Who?” she mumbled, blinking slowly, her hair an unruly cloud on top of her head.
“Just come, silly girl. Brush your hair first!” her mom said, vanishing down the hall before she could argue.
Still in her pajama shirt and pant, Hyune shuffled out of bed, rubbing her eyes. The floor felt cool under her mismatched socks as she padded toward the living room. She was halfway through a yawn when the familiar sound of laughter — warm, rich, unmistakable — made her freeze. Her eyes widened. “Minhee eomma?!”
Dr. Kim Minhee — radiant as always in a cream blouse and tailored slacks — stood from the couch, her arms already wide open. Her presence, even after all these years, still felt like home in another form.
“My pretty Hyune,” Minhee said, pulling her into a hug that smelled faintly of citrus and expensive hand cream. “You’ve grown prettier again. I swear you stretch taller every time I blink.”
Hyune giggled as she hugged her back. “Why didn’t Seungmin tell me you were coming?”
Right on cue, her phone buzzed in her pocket.
🐶: Your favorite person’s in your city.
Guess who forgot to tell you...
She stared at it for a second before typing one word
🥟: Brat.
Minhee caught her reaction and chuckled knowingly. “I had a medical conference this weekend, so I thought I’d steal an extra day to visit my girls.”
“I’m so glad you did,” said her mother, Hwang Hyejin, walking in from the kitchen with a tray of steaming citron tea. Her hair was loosely tied back, apron still on, and her tone was light but warm. “Hyune’s been sulking around the house like she’s stuck in a slow-motion romance drama.”
“Eomma!” Hyune groaned, turning red as she nearly tripped on the corner of the rug.
Minhee raised an amused eyebrow. “Slow-motion romance? Are we talking about that handsome young man you sent me a photo of last New Year’s?”
Hyune practically choked on air. “That was a *group* picture!”
Footsteps clicked down the hallway. Her father, Kang Junho, stepped in adjusting the sleeves of his blazer, already dressed for his morning meeting. “Well, I’ll leave the ladies to their detective work,” he said with a warm smile.
“Good morning, Junho-ssi,” Minhee greeted with a small bow from where she sat. “Still as punctual as ever, I see.”
Junho returned the gesture with a light chuckle. “Minhee-ssi, it’s good to see you again. Don’t let these two gang up on me in my absence.”
He reached for a tea cup, gave it a brief sniff, and added with a soft grin, “Haejin-ah, you always know how to make barley tea smell like a memory.” She chuckled and leaned over to fix his slightly crooked collar. “Go easy on your team today, hmm?” Junho brushed her knuckles gently with his thumb — subtle, but affectionate.
“And you! Be good, sweetheart,” he added, ruffling Hyune’s hair. “Bye, Appa,” she muttered, cheeks still rosy as he kissed her temple, then disappeared out the door with a soft click.
Once the room settled again, the three women curled into their usual seats like it was tradition. Minhee took the armchair — always her spot — while Hyune curled up next to her mom on the couch, tucking her feet underneath her. They sipped tea in a quiet rhythm, the air warm with the scent of citron and barley. “So…” Minhee started casually, “It is Chris, isn’t it?”
Hyune blinked, mid-sip. “What do you mean?”
“The boy you draw the most in your sketchbook,” Haejin added, not missing a beat.
“Eomma!”
Minhee grinned. “You really thought we didn’t know?”
Hyune buried her face in a cushion. “I mean… Yesterday, he said he’ll tell me something after my graduation…”
That was all it took. “Oh!” both women chorused at once, like they were watching a drama unfold in real-time. “Is he going to—” Haejin gasped, eyes widening with mischief. “If he does,” she added, voice softening, “Do you…?”
Hyune peeked over the cushion, cheeks pink. “I think I do,” she whispered. “I think I’ve liked him for a long time.”
Minhee reached over to gently take her hand, her voice calm and certain. “Then trust that. If it’s real… you’ll feel it before he even says it.”
Hyune gave a small smile — the kind that sat deep in the chest, warm and hesitant all at once. A moment passed. Tea was refilled. The light outside shifted, casting stripes of gold across the table. Just as the air had started to settle into stillness again, Minhee set her cup down with a faint clink. “By the way,” she said lightly, though something in her tone had changed, “Seungmin’s coming to Seoul this evening.”
“What?!” Hyune sat up straight. “Why didn’t he tell me—wait—he really is a brat.”
Minhee smiled, but this time it didn’t reach her eyes fully. “He said he’d rather tell you in person. Something he wants to say himself.”
Haejin tilted her head slightly. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s nothing bad,” Minhee replied gently. “But… I think he just needs to say it when he’s ready. I told him we’d all be here waiting.”
Hyune leaned back slowly, her brows drawing together in quiet thought. She didn’t press further. She knew Seungmin well — if he said he’d talk, he would. Still, something in the way Minhee eomma stared at the tea in her hands — like she was holding something delicate and unspoken — left Hyune with a faint unease she couldn’t quite name.
Outside, the Sunday morning sun had fully bloomed, but in the Kang household, something small and uncertain had just begun to shift.
Notes:
Alright, readers — time to dish! What do you think Seungmin’s big news is? Drop your guesses or thoughts below!
Also, who’s your favorite character so far? Can’t wait to hear what you’re thinking before we dive into the next chapter.
See you soon! 💬✨
Chapter Text
The soft glow of the early evening settled gently over the Kang household. The once lively room had quieted into a calm expectancy—the kind that lingers in the air when everyone’s waiting for something important.
Hyune stood by the kitchen counter, carefully arranging snack trays—mini rice cakes, honey-dipped walnuts, and some extra spicy tteokbokki and ladled out a steaming bowl of kimchi jjigae, Seungmin’s favorite, the spicy scent weaving through the air like a quiet invitation—something familiar to break the distance between them.
She glanced at her phone again, brow furrowing at the screen.
🥟 11:00 AM
Yah!! You really flew to Seoul without telling me?
No reply.
🥟 7:47 PM
Wah!! Unbelievable, Seungmin-ah. You’re not even replying??
The messages sat unread.
She sighed, voice low and sharp with frustration as she muttered, “Seriously? Not a single word…”
The messages sat unread. From the living room, Haejin’s warm voice floated gently into the kitchen. “Maybe he’s avoiding you because you always scold him,” she teased.
Hyune bit her lip, trying to hold back the sting in her chest. “Me?” she shot back, a little too sharply. Then, softer, she added, “He’s the one who forgets to tell me things that matter…”
Haejin laughed softly, the sound like a gentle breeze, but Hyune’s gaze stayed fixed on her phone, restless and unsettled. The doorbell rang, sharp and unexpected. Hyune barely moved before her mother was already at the door, opening it with the kind of warmth that made every visitor feel cherished.
“Seungmin-ah!” Haejin’s voice lifted with surprise and joy. “Omo—you’ve grown!”
Minhee followed behind, her usual calm and attentive presence filling the doorway.
“Annyeonghaseyo,” he said quietly, his voice steady but carrying a hint of hesitation beneath the polite tone.
Hyune peeked from the hallway, rolling her eyes playfully.
There stood Kim Seungmin—his black hair tousled from travel, crisp white t-shirt under a forest green overshirt, arms loaded with three large paper bags of cakes, snacks, and his signature overpriced chocolate “Royce' Nama Chocolate.” His smile was still boyish, but broader shoulders and a sharper jawline marked the passage of time.
“You look really handsome, Seungmin-ah,” Haejin said, pulling him into a warm hug. “Your shoulders are broader than last time. What do they feed you in Busan, hmm?”
Seungmin blushed and handed her the bags. “I missed you, Eomma.”
“Yah,” Hyune said, stepping into the doorway with her arms crossed, standing beside Minhee. Her tone was light, but her eyes were searching. “No greeting for me?”
Seungmin hesitated for just a second—barely enough to catch unless you knew him well.
Then, with a too-quick grin, he lifted the paper bags. “Well… you all get cake.”
He stepped forward, offering Hyune a neatly boxed chocolate cake—her favorite. The corners of his mouth twitched upward as if trying to act normal, but his eyes didn’t quite meet hers.
Hyune took the cake with a skeptical look, her brow arching as she gestured toward the second, smaller bag still tucked under his arm.
“And that one?”
Seungmin didn’t hesitate this time—he didn’t need to think.
“Not for you,” he replied, flat and fast.
“Ohhh,” Haejin chimed in from the side, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Is it for your girlfriend, hmm? Wah, how sweet—what a thoughtful boyfriend.”
“Yah!” Hyune shot her a scandalized glance, half-grinning now, clearly gearing up to say something dangerous.
“Is that for Ji—”
Before she could finish, Seungmin lunged forward, clamping a hand gently but firmly over her mouth.
“Shut up,” he muttered under his breath, not unkindly—just tired.
Hyune’s muffled laugh came through his fingers, her eyes dancing. But when he finally pulled back, he didn’t smile.
Laughter bubbled around the room—everyone except Minhee, whose quiet silence was unmistakable. Haejin noticed it first. Minhee’s gaze lingered on Seungmin longer than usual before she took her seat quietly. Haejin tilted her head slightly, voice gentle but curious. “Seungmin-ah, what was that thing Minhee said you wanted to tell us?”
The room stilled, the warm air suddenly heavier. Seungmin rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling slowly. “Ah… yeah. That.” Hyune stopped mid-bite, her eyes locked on him. He glanced once at Minhee—her calm expression was all the encouragement he needed.
“I got accepted,” he said finally, voice low but steady. “To Harvard Law School.” A pause stretched, thick and heavy. Then Hyune blinked in disbelief.
A pause stretched across the room—thick, heavy.
Haejin blinked, clearly processing. Then her eyes widened slightly, brows lifting with a mix of surprise and pride. “Oh—Harvard?” she echoed softly. “Seungmin-ah, that’s… incredible. Congratulations.” But there was a faint hesitation in her tone, a flicker of confusion behind her kind smile.
“When did this all happen?”
Seungmin rubbed the back of his neck. “A while ago,” he admitted quietly. “The acceptance came in early summer.” Then, after a short breath,
“I leave in two weeks,” Seungmin continued carefully. “It’s an early international program, so we’re already late on preparations.”
“What?” Hyune was still staring at him, her chocolate cake box suddenly heavier in her hands. “You’re leaving,” she said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“Hyune-ah…” Haejin began softly, but Hyune barely heard her.
But Hyune barely heard her. The air suddenly felt thick—like her lungs had to work twice as hard just to breathe. Her fingers tightened around the cake box, the ridges of the cardboard biting into her skin. The smell of the warm kimchi jjigae, which had filled the room so comfortingly just minutes ago, now made her stomach churn. “I need some air,” she muttered, voice clipped and tight.
She set the cake down on the table—too fast, too hard—and turned quickly on her heel, her jaw clenched. The soft thud of her socked feet across the floor barely masked the tremble in her breath. Her shoulders were stiff, her arms drawn in close like she was holding something together that was threatening to split wide open. She didn’t want them to see it—the way her chest ached.
“Noona—” Seungmin started, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of everything unsaid. “Hyune,” he tried again, quieter this time. But it was too late. She was already gone—slipping out of the room, leaving behind the laughter, the tea, and the warm pastries. Leaving confusion and silence in her absence.
Seungmin followed her into the hallway, voice low and urgent. “I wanted to tell you in person.” But something fragile between them cracked. “You had months,” she said, stepping back, voice shaking. “You told Minhee eomma. You might have told your friends. You told everyone—except me.” Her gaze searched his, desperate for an explanation, but finding none. “You’re literally one of the only people I talk to every day,” she said, tears threatening. “And I didn’t even get a hint. Nothing.”
He opened his mouth to speak, now she didn’t let him. The soft but final *click* of the door shutting on his face echoed louder than any words.
Seungmin stood frozen, fingers brushing the doorframe, the cold wood pressing against his skin. Inside, Hyune’s quiet breaths were muffled behind the closed door, a painful reminder of the distance that had suddenly grown between them.
Notes:
Best friends and big secrets don’t mix well, huh? 💔
Hyune thought she knew everything. Seungmin thought she’d understand. Neither of them were totally right.Should Seungmin have told her sooner?
Is Hyune overreacting, or... not at all?Thanks for reading — drop a thought if you’re feeling things.
Chapter Text
Late summer sun filtered through the wide glass panes of the Seoul National University, casting warm light across pale wood tables and sleek concrete beams. The usual lunchtime chatter buzzed around them — soft jazz playing through the speakers, trays sliding, sneakers squeaking against the floor — but at one particular table near the window, things were unusually quiet.
Lina watched Chan out of the corner of her eye as he pushed his food around the plate without really eating. His brow was slightly furrowed, and every few seconds he let out a soft sigh that seemed to carry more weight than just a casual breath. His gaze drifted toward the window, unfocused, as if his mind was miles away.
After a moment, Lina nudged the edge of Chan ’s tray with her spoon. “You’ve sighed seven times in the last three minutes.”
Chan didn’t look up from his half-eaten rice bowl. “You’re counting?”
“Obviously,” she said, mouth quirking. “If you sigh three more times, I’m filing a noise complaint.”
A faint smile ghosted across his lips, but it didn’t last. Lina leaned her cheek on her palm, watching him carefully. “You’ve been like this since Sunday?”
“I’m fine,” Chan said quickly — too quickly. His chopsticks paused midair, then changed direction and stabbed a piece of kimchi like it had personally offended him.
Lina raised a brow. “Sure you are. Since when does kimchi get on your bad side?”
He let out another sigh — number eight. That was it. Lina gently set down her spoon and tilted her head toward him, her voice soft but steady.
“Chan-ah,” she said quietly, “What’s really going on?”
Lina straightened, concern flickering across her face. “What about her?”
He took a slow breath. “You know... after that night at your place, when I offered to walk her home?” He hesitated before continuing. “I told her… after graduation, there’s something I want to tell her.” Lina nodded slowly, brows knitting together as she processed. Chan glanced down at his phone lying on the table. “The screen was dark, but a quick tap brought Hyune’s name to life — his last message still marked unread…
Hyune🦦
🐺 How’s your day, Hyune-ah!!
Sunday, 5:46 PM
(Unread)
“She’s been avoiding me ever since,” he said quietly. “No replies. Nothing.”
Lina didn’t answer right away. She reached for her iced coffee, stirring the straw absentmindedly. Her eyes softened as she looked up at Chan, noticing the tight line of his jaw, the subtle tremor in his hands resting on the table. “She hasn’t texted me either,” she said after a moment. “Maybe she’s just... caught up with something. You know how she is sometimes. She retreats.”
“Yeah, but usually she comes back,” Chan muttered, his thumb brushing the edge of his phone. “This time feels different. Like I messed it up.”
Lina watched him quietly for a moment, then reached over and gave his phone a small tap with her finger. “Staring at it won’t make her read it any faster,” she said, her tone light but steady. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Chan-ah. You were honest. And that counts for something. Trust me Chan-ah, She likes you too”
Chan let out a low breath, the edge of his mouth twitching. “You always make too much sense when I least want to hear it.”
“I’ve had years of practice,” she said, flicking a crumb at him. “Being your unpaid therapist since age ten.”
Just then, Lina’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and her face lit up. “Oh. Class cancelled.” She let out a happy sigh. “Bless the professor’s sore throat.” Chan gave her a side-eye. “You’re not even pretending to be sad.”
“Why would I?” she grinned, zipping her bag and adjusting the strap of her mini designer crossbody. “Freedom awaits.”
Chan looked up at her, hesitating for a beat. “Lina-ya,” he said quietly, “Are you still... going there?” Her movement stilled. A beat long enough to notice. She didn’t look at him as she slid her phone into her bag. “I have no reason to go there, Chan-ah.”
“But—” he began, she cut him off, voice sharper than before. “I can go wherever I want. Which is exactly why I don’t go there anymore.”
Chan frowned, concern deepening. “I’m not saying you have to—”
“I know what you’re saying,” she snapped, finally looking at him. Her expression was steady, but all the warmth from before had drained away. “But we’ve had this conversation before.”
“I just—” he started, but she turned from the table. “Chan-ah,” she said, voice firm but low, “you know I already left that path. So stop trying to drag me back toward it.”
Chan ’s brows pulled together, but he nodded slowly, choosing his words carefully. “I just want you to be happy, Lina. Not for anyone else — not because it’s expected of you. Just… your kind of happy. The one you choose.”
She stared back at him — as if trying to decide whether to be angry or just tired. Her lips pressed into a line. Then she turned and walked away.
Chan sat back in his chair, watching the glass doors swing shut behind her. Under his breath, he murmured, “Stop being hard on yourself, Lina-ya.”
He let his head fall back against the booth, eyes tracing the ceiling he gave a humorless chuckle, more air than sound. “Look at that — both my girls avoiding me. Guess I really am talented.”
Outside, Lina climbed into her car, the door shutting with a sharp slam that echoed in the still air. Inside, the cabin was cold and quiet. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles pale. The touchscreen dashboard lit up automatically, cheerful and efficient.
[🔊 ROUTE SET: My Penthouse. Estimated arrival: 23 minutes.]
She started the engine and pulled smoothly onto the busy Seoul street, the usual hum of city life wrapping around her. The honks and chatter rose like a chaotic tide, pressing in from all sides. Her mind churned, replaying her conversation with Chan — the words, the silence, the weight of everything left unsaid. The noise felt unbearable, the heavy clamor of traffic pounding in her temples.
With a sharp breath, Lina flicked on her turn signal — too late for it to matter — and turned the wheel hard. The car swung into a tight U-turn at the intersection, tires humming against the pavement. Horns sounded behind her, but she didn’t look back.
The dashboard chimed.
[🔊 Recalculating route...]
But Lina’s eyes were fixed ahead, burning with something fierce and unspoken — choosing a new direction, away from the expected, away from the path set for her.
[🔊 ROUTE RECALCULATING...]
The cheerful AI voice returned immediately, almost annoyingly upbeat.
[🔊“Recalculating route. Please proceed to the highlighted path.”]
Lina gritted her teeth and ignored it, pressing harder on the gas pedal.
[🔊 WARNING: You are off the recommended route. Please return to the designated path.]
The voice repeated, persistent and unyielding.
[🔊“Off route. Recalculating. Please return to the designated path.”]
The hum of the city seemed to swell, horns blaring, engines revving — as if the whole world was pushing her back. She clenched her jaw tighter, the voice echoing inside the cabin, a maddening reminder that she was choosing a different way.
[🔊“Recalculating. Turn left at the next intersection.”]
She didn’t turn. The voice kept coming, relentless.
[🔊“Please follow the suggested route. Recalculating...”]
Her grip tightened on the steering wheel, the repeated commands growing louder in her mind until— She found herself on a quiet, empty road, far from the honking city streets. Pulling over abruptly, she ripped the GPS off the dashboard and shoved it aside. Then, lowering her head onto the steering wheel, she screamed — a sound raw and desperate, cracked with years of silence.
The cry fractured the stillness, sharp and aching. Her shoulders trembled as she folded inward, fingers clawing into her hair like she was trying to pull something out — something she couldn’t name.
No one heard. No one was supposed to.
Because this wasn’t who she let people see.
Notes:
If you're still here after that — thank you for reading.
This chapter held a lot beneath the surface: silence, guilt, pressure, fear of being seen… and maybe, just maybe, a quiet kind of hope.
Shoutout to Lina’s GPS for being the most persistent antagonist of the chapter. 📢🔁
If any part of Lina or Chan felt familiar to you, I hope you give yourself a little softness today. 💛
Comments, reactions, theories — all welcome. Until next time.
Chapter Text
The night settled over Seoul with a quiet chill that made the city lights feel sharper than usual. In a large, second-floor bedroom overlooking the quiet hills of Hannam-dong, Seo Changbin sat cross-legged at his desk, a thick CSAT prep book open in front of him and a pen tapping absently against the pages.
His room was a comfortable mix of chaos and precision — a polished floor scattered with soccer magazines, a signed Tottenham jersey hanging on the wall, and a sleek display shelf holding several shining medals from regional youth tournaments.
His phone buzzed lightly next to his hand.
📞 Lady Boss
Lina’s voice came through light and clear, a little too casual. “Just checking on my favorite high schooler. Still buried in math formulas?” Changbin smirked, twirling his pen between his fingers. “Yeah, me and calculus are kind of dating at this point. It’s getting serious.”
Lina chuckled. “Wow. Should I be jealous?”
“Too late,” he said. “Math already proposed.”
She chuckled softly, but there was something a little off—like the sound carried a weight beneath it. Changbin noticed right away, though he didn’t say anything just yet. “You sound different today, noona,” he said casually, leaning back in his chair. “Like you’re smiling, but it’s not quite reaching you.”
There was a brief pause before she answered. “What? Me? I’m totally fine,” Lina said, her voice a little too cheerful, almost like she was convincing herself more than him. “You know me—I’m always like this. You’re just reading into things. He didn’t push. “Okay. If you say so.”
Lina’s voice softened as she eased into a new subject, like she was brushing away the earlier tension.“Anyway. How’s Hyune? She’s been on my mind.” Changbin’s brows lifted slightly at the switch. “She’s okay, I guess. Just… a little off since Monday. Like, she talks and everything, laughs a bit. But not like usual. Like her brightness is on low battery.”
Lina was quiet for a second, then said gently, “Take care of her, okay?”
“I always do,” he replied without missing a beat.
There was a pause, then Lina asked, “How’s CSAT prep coming?” They talked a bit more — casually, comfortably — until Lina finally yawned mid-sentence. “Ahh. Sorry. I’m getting sleepy.”
“Sleep well, noona. Me and math still have a late-night date.”
“Try not to fall too hard,” she teased, her voice already soft with sleep. “Goodnight, Binnie.”
“Night.”
The call ended with a soft beep. But something in her voice lingered.
Changbin paused for a moment, then swiped through his contacts until he found the name he was looking for.
📞 CB97! 🐺
It rang twice before picking up. “Yo,” came Chan’s voice — low, flat, tired. “Hyung,” Changbin teased, “you sound like you’ve been run over by a truck.” Chan let out a humorless chuckle. “Rough couple of days.”
Changbin didn’t bring it up right away. They talked about lighter things — the latest campus events, how Chan’s architecture projects were coming along, and whether the new café near campus was worth the hype. After a bit, Changbin casually asked, “Noona seemed kinda off today. You think something’s going on?”
Chan paused. “I think I pissed her off,” he said finally. “Unintentionally. Same with Hyune.”
Changbin leaned back, exhaling slowly. “Rough week for the girls.”
“Yeah,” Chan said quietly.
The conversation drifted after that — light again, easy — until they said their goodnights and hung up.
Changbin ended the call and sat quietly for a moment, thinking over what Chan had said. Something didn’t sit right, but he decided to check in with Hyune tomorrow instead of pushing tonight.
With a determined nod, he picked up his pen and turned back to his CSAT prep book, diving back into his studies.
The school hallway buzzed with morning energy. Changbin walked in with his usual springy steps, balancing a small convenience store bag in one hand. He found Hyune at her desk already, scrolling her phone. She looked up as he approached. “Guess what I have,” he sang, sliding into the seat next to hers and lifting the bag.
She blinked. “If it’s green grape yogurt drink, I’m listening. He grinned, victorious, and pulled one out. “Plus, melon bread. You looked like you needed sugar therapy.” Hyune smiled — soft, grateful — and accepted the drink. “Thanks, Changbin-ah”
He watched her for a moment as she took a sip, noticing the tiredness in her eyes. Her smile didn’t quite reach the corners like it usually did. Changbin’s voice softened. “Is something on your mind?” Hyune didn’t answer right away. She stared down at her hands, fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve.
After a quiet moment, he shifted gently, “How’s your mom? Everything okay at home?” She shook her head slightly.“Eomma’s fine. Everything’s fine. Changbin’s eyes softened. He’d known how close they are. Hearing this now, it all made sense why she’d been so quiet, so unlike herself lately. He nodded gently. “That explains a lot.” She kept her eyes on the yogurt bottle. “He’s going to Harvard. Law school. In like… two weeks.”
Changbin let the moment breathe before he said anything. He leaned back, then reached out gently to rest his hand on Hyune’s wrist, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Because yeah, it sucks when your friends leave,” he said softly.
He shifted closer and spread his arm lightly over the back of her chair, a silent offer of comfort. “You’ll get used to it, eventually,” he added. “Doesn’t mean you’ll like it. But one day, it’ll hurt a little less.” Her gaze drifted out the window. “Maybe.”
“Want to hear the dumbest thing Yesuel did in sports class yesterday?” She shot him a cautious look. “Do I really?. “Too late. You’re getting the full story anyway.”
As he dove into the tale — with plenty of dramatic flair — he noticed her expression shift. Not a full laugh, but the tension eased a bit, and a small, genuine smile tugged at her lips. That was enough for now.
Later, During Breaktime. He tapped at his phone.
Lady Boss🐰
🐷🐰:Hyune's is upset because Seungmin’s leaving. Not about Channie hyung.
He tucked his phone into his bag, turned back toward Hyune, and cracked another quiet joke about their homeroom teacher’s tragic tie collection.
He was her steady presence. Quiet loyalty. The kind that stays, even when everyone else is too far, too busy, or too hurt to notice.
Notes:
Lowkey chapter, but high-key feelings.
Changbin really said “I got you” without saying it. 🫶Wanna bet who breaks first — Lina or Hyune?
Drop your thoughts below — I’m lurking 👀💬
Chapter Text
The dim light in Hyune’s bedroom softened the edges of the room, casting shadows that matched the quiet heaviness in her chest. The faint hum of conversation drifted from the kitchen — the clink of utensils, her mother’s gentle laughter mingling with the maids’ voices — but to Hyune, it all sounded distant, muffled, like underwater echoes.
Her door clicked softly shut behind her. She sat on the edge of her bed without turning on the light, her phone buzzing once on the comforter beside her.
🐶: “Can we talk? Please.”
She stared at the message, neither typing back nor opening the chat.
Lying down sideways, cheek pressed into her pillow, Hyune’s mind replayed memories—the scent of cake and roasted barley still lingering faintly, the image of Seungmin walking into her house like nothing had changed, pastries in hand, with his usual crooked grin and stupid jokes.
A year. He’d been planning this for a year. And never told her. The words looped in her head, dull and aching. Her thumb hovered again over his name.
Typing… deleting… typing…
A soft knock at the door. She didn’t answer.
But the door creaked open anyway.
“Hyune-yah?” her mother’s voice was quiet.
Hyune rolled to face the wall. “I don’t want to talk.”
Still, her mother entered and sat gently at the foot of the bed, silence filling the space between them.
After a moment, her mother spoke softly, “Are you going to eat dinner, or are you still too upset?”
Hyune remained quiet, fingers curling into the blanket.
Her mother sighed, not heavy but honest. “Do you remember when you applied for that art program in Jeju, and didn’t tell Appa or me until after you got in?”
Hyune blinked, turning slightly. “That’s different.”
“Is it?” her mother asked gently. “You didn’t want to tell us in case it didn’t work out. Or maybe… you were afraid we’d stop you.”
“That’s not—” Hyune stopped. “…that’s not the same.”
Her mother gave a sad smile. “Maybe. But sometimes, when something really matters to us… we hold it close. Even from the people we love.”
Hyune sat up slowly, the ache rising in her chest. “Even back then, about the program in Jeju, I told him. Only him. And now, if he’d told me, I wouldn’t have stopped him or made fun of him if he didn’t get selected. I’m not his parent, Eomma — I’m his friend. Someone who’s always been there, rooting for him.”
“I know you do,” her mother said, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. “But maybe… this wasn’t about you not being important. Maybe it was about how important you are.”
The words stung in a new way.
Hyune shook her head. “Which is why he could’ve told me. He should’ve.”
Her mother’s grip tightened gently. “I think he knows that now.”
She stood and moved toward the door, pausing before leaving.
“Don’t hold a grudge against someone who’s leaving soon,” she said softly. “You might miss the last few moments — the chance to say goodbye. And you didn’t even congratulate him, Hyune-yah. Later… you might regret that.”
The door closed softly behind her, leaving Hyune with the quiet room and her swirling thoughts. She hadn't slept much. At 9:42 p.m., her fingers finally moved.
🥟: “Café Blue. Tomorrow 2 p.m.”
Just one line. Nothing else. No emoji. No playful insults.
Café Blue smelled the same as it always had — roasted beans, lemon muffins, a little too much cinnamon. She arrived early. Sat by the window in their usual booth, the one they used to fight over in middle school. She remembered Seungmin sitting across from her with a chocolate milk and strawberry donut when her mom was first hospitalized. He’d just said, “Eat first. Cry later.” That was the thing about Seungmin. He never offered pity. Just presence.
When the bell chimed at 2:07, she looked up and saw him. Hair still slightly messy. Hoodie and jeans. One hand nervously fiddling with the zipper of his coat. “Hey,” he said quietly, sliding into the seat across from her. Hyune didn’t smile. They sat in silence for a moment. He didn’t order anything.
“You didn’t even tell Minhee eomma and Appa?” she asked flatly. Seungmin nodded. “I told them last week. Right after I got the acceptance email, Eomma’s… still not thrilled about it.”
She folded her arms. “But you’ve been preparing for it… a year?”
“Yeah.”
“You told no one?”
“Jisu, Felix, and Innie,” he admitted, eyes flicking to hers. “They found out by accident. They applied too.”
Her jaw clenched — just a flicker, but enough. Seungmin saw the way her breath hitched. He rushed to explain, voice a little too fast. “Really, it wasn’t planned. It just... lined up.”
Hyune looked away, blinking hard. The sting behind her eyes burned sharper now — not just from the secret, but from what it meant. Her voice came quiet, almost steady. “And you really didn’t think to tell me?”
He looked at her, guilt swimming in his eyes. “I did.” His voice cracked just slightly. “A hundred times. I wrote messages and deleted them. I wanted to tell you first.”
Hyune let out a quiet breath, her gaze fixed somewhere just past his shoulder. “But in the end… you didn’t.”
“I was scared,” he said. Her eyes turned to look at him. “I knew that once I told you, everything would start to change. It would make it all feel too real — like saying goodbye before I was ready. And I didn’t want you to see me fail, so I waited until I was sure it would actually happen.”
She stayed quiet, a bittersweet ache curling in her chest—had he actually thought she would judge him? Did he think she wasn’t the one who’d stand by him, no matter what?
“I know it’s not fair,” he added, looking down at the table. “You share everything with me. I should’ve trusted you the same.”
“Yes, you should’ve,” she said, her voice low and unwavering.
Seungmin swallowed hard, unable to meet her gaze. “I know.”
They sat in silence. Outside, the café buzzed with late launchers and college students pretending to study. But inside their little corner, time felt sticky — full of things neither of them knew how to say right.
“You’re the only person I didn’t want to be judged,” Seungmin said quietly. “That’s why I couldn’t say it.”
Hyune looked at him—not as the boy she had shared laughter and secrets with, but as someone quietly burdened by the fear of her judgment—a distance she hadn’t noticed until now.
And someone who, all along, had been carrying a dream that didn’t include her. Somehow, that stung far deeper than if he had simply left without a word.
Her voice was softer than she intended, trembling with the weight of it all. “It still hurts just the same.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t reply. Her hands were folded in her lap, holding tight to the hem of her sleeve. He didn’t try to fix anything. He just sat there clueless.
After a while, she stood up. Slid her chair back carefully, like she didn’t want to break the quiet.
Seungmin’s breath caught. The scrape of the chair felt louder than anything she’d said. Final, almost. He didn’t know what to do with the weight that dropped in his chest, sudden and sharp — like the moment was closing in on him too fast.
“I’m happy for you. I’ll see you then,” she said, her tone calm, hiding everything else.
The words barely registered. All he could see was the distance beginning to stretch between them, inch by inch. His voice came out low, tighter than he meant. “Text me. Even if I’m 8,000 km away... text me like always. Yell at me. Brag. Be annoying. Please.”
Her laugh slipped out — brittle, bitter — like shattered glass trying to remember how to sparkle.
How could he ask for that?
After all the silence he left between them?
She nodded — a quiet, tired ghost of a gesture — and walked away without looking back.
Notes:
I think one of the most underrated kinds of grief is when a best friend keeps a life-changing secret.
Hyune and Seungmin have always been each other's person. And now, for the first time, there’s a fracture — caused not by malice, but by fear, change, and the inevitability of growing up.
The shift is not because the friendship ends, but because it gets shaken in a way that might never fully go back.
If you’ve ever been the person left out of someone’s biggest moment… or the one who couldn’t find the courage to share your dreams with someone important… this one’s for you.
Thank you for reading. I hope this made you feel something. Even if it hurt a little💔
Chapter Text
The courtyard outside the architecture studio smelled faintly of cement dust and warm late-summer grass. On an old wooden bench tucked between two ginkgo trees, their leaves still stubbornly green, not yet hinting at the gold to come in autumn. Chan spotted Lina sitting there, looking at something on her phone, earbuds in.
His steps slowed. He felt that strange tightness in his chest, like walking on eggshells. She hadn’t said much since their little fight earlier that week. Lina looked up as he approached, casually slipping out an earbud. “You’re late,” she said, voice light but teasing. “Yeah, sorry. Studio ran late,” he replied, trying for casual.
She patted the bench beside her without looking. “Sit down, Professor.” Chan chuckled softly, the tension loosening from his shoulders as he lowered himself carefully next to her, careful not to brush her arm. For a moment, the sounds of campus drifted around them — distant chatter, a scooter whizzing past, birds singing somewhere above the trees. Then Lina glanced at him sideways. “You’ve been acting weird. Like you thought I’d throw coffee at you.” He grinned sheepishly. “Maybe I thought you were going to.”
“Please. This latte cost ₩6,500. You’re not worth that much.” His laugh was quiet but genuine, and the space between them softened. After a beat, she said gently, “You thought Hyune was upset because of you, didn’t you?” Chan’s eyes flicked toward her. “Was I wrong?”
Lina shook her head. “She’s heart-heavy because Seungmin’s leaving for college. Nothing to do with you.” Chan exhaled a breath that sounded like relief. “Oh, I really thought I messed up.”
“You didn’t,” Lina said softly. “She’s just trying to figure out how to say goodbye to someone who’s always been there.” He nodded slowly, letting it sink in. “Makes sense.” Lina leaned back, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You wanna help her?”
“Of course.”
“Then stop sulking and take her out. To that snack place she drags you to. Jjondeugi Heaven, right?”
“Yeah, that place. The one where I almost died last time.”
“Exactly,” Lina said with a grin. “Give her a break from the drama. Let her just be normal for a while.” Chan looked at her, a slow grin spreading. “You really are my saving grace sometimes.” Lina tossed her hair back with a smirk. “I know. Now go be useful.”
Later that night, after pacing his room in circles, Chan finally dialed Hyune’s number.
One ring.
Just one.
“Hello?” Her voice, quiet but steady, came through. Chan blinked. “You picked up fast.”
“I was free,” she said softly. “Oppa… sorry for not texting. Got caught up with stuff.”
“It’s okay,” he said gently, relief easing into his voice.
There was a pause. “You wanna go out tomorrow? To that weird spicy place you love?”
“Jjondeugi Heaven?”
“Exactly.”
There was a beat of silence, and then she said, almost shyly, “I’d like that, Oppa.”
“Cool.” He smiled to himself. “I’ll bring milk.”
She laughed, really laughed this time — tired but warm. “You’d better.”
The house was warm and bustling, filled with the spicy aroma of jjondeugi simmering in stone pots. She sat across from Chan, tucked into the corner booth her gaze fixed on the window, though her mind wasn’t on the street outside.
Chan watched her quietly. He had said very little since they sat down, only asked what she wanted to eat, then ordered something for them both when she said “anything’s fine.”
“You didn’t even touch your food,” he said finally, voice low, careful. Hyune blinked. “Sorry, I’m not really hungry.” Chan tilted his head, waiting. She didn’t meet his eyes.
He leaned forward a little, elbows on the table. “Is it about Seungmin?” At that, she looked up, startled. “Lina told me,” he said gently.
Hyune swallowed. She didn’t know how to say what was in her chest without unraveling. “He planned it for a whole year, Oppa.” Chan nodded. “And I had no idea. I tell him everything. But he—he didn’t even think I should know?”
“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Chan said softly. “Sometimes… dreams are easier to carry when no one’s knowing about it — even if it’s unintentional.”
“I wouldn’t hold him back,” she said quickly. “I’d support him.”
“I know,” Chan said, “but maybe… he didn’t trust himself to be vulnerable.” That made her chest tighten.
“Hyune,” he said carefully, “what he did hurt. You have every right to feel that. But that doesn’t mean his dream doesn’t matter. Or that keeping it to himself wasn’t hard for him too.”
Hyune looked down at her lap. “Why do you always sound like you understand everyone better than they understand themselves?” Chan smiled gently. “I don’t. I just listen.”
They were quiet again. Then Chan added, “He’s leaving tomorrow morning, right?” Hyune nodded.
“I can come with you. To the airport,” he said, like it was nothing. “If you want someone there.”
"I might not go".
“You’ll go, even if you don’t want to admit it yet,”
Her eyes flicked up to his. “Why?”
“Because you know you’ll regret it if you don’t say him goodbye properly. And I don’t want you to have that kind of weight to carry.”
Hyune said nothing for a moment. Then, quietly, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to… say anything.”
Chan smiled softly. “Then don’t say anything. Just be there.”
Incheon Airport was always too bright in the morning. The overhead lights, the polished tile, the airport announcements echoing like background music to a moment that felt far too personal. Chan and Hyune walked side by side past airport cafés and seating areas. She held a small gift bag in one hand — still unsure if she’d actually give it to him. When they reached the international departures gate, she spotted them first.
Felix, standing with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, bouncing on the balls of his feet nervously. Jisu, quietly checking documents. Jeongin, sipping something hot and looking exhausted.
And Seungmin. Standing a little apart from them, wearing a charcoal jacket and a backpack, hair slightly messy from the wind. His eyes lit up, just a little, when he saw her. Then he saw Chan beside her and nodded with something like gratitude.
Chan gave a small wave and stepped forward to greet them, taking the pressure off her for a moment. “Take care of her, hyung,” Seungmin said to him quietly.
“I will,” Chan replied. “But she’s stronger than you think.”
Seungmin smiled faintly at that, but his eyes flicked to Hyune again, uncertain. She didn’t move.
Felix glanced between them, about to speak — but Jisu tugged his sleeve and shook her head.
The announcement came on. Final call.
Hyune’s fingers tightened around the handles of the small gift bag. A soft crinkle of tissue paper, barely audible over the overhead speaker.
Seungmin shifted beside his suitcase, gaze flicking to the gate entrance and back to her. “That’s me.”
He stepped forward. “Hyune, I’m sorry—.”
She nodded, “I know,” she said quickly, “You don’t have to say anything.”
She looked at him then — hoodie slightly wrinkled, boarding pass still clutched in his hand, sneakers tapping restless patterns against the tile floor. Her best friend. Leaving. Quietly, she held out the bag. “It’s dumb. Don’t open it until you’re on the plane.”
Seungmin smiled, took it like it was something fragile. “Thank you.”
That’s all. No big hugs. No promises. Just a gift passed between them, and the silence that said what words couldn’t. It wasn’t anger anymore. It was just… a wall neither of them knew how to climb down from. And that was worse.
Seungmin lingered at the gate entrance, his shoulders tense, as Jisu, Felix, and Innie waited quietly a few steps away. He took a breath, hesitating, torn between the pull of his friends and the silent weight of goodbye.
That’s when Jisu subtly nodded, her motion soft but gentle —an unspoken invitation to step forward when he was ready. Seungmin’s gaze shifted from the gate back to them. Felix gave an encouraging nod. Innie offered another quiet smile that said, “We’ve got you.” Slowly, he left.
Only when the last figure disappeared behind the security doors did Hyune cries, her knees buckled.
Chan caught her before she hit the floor, steadying her gently as she leaned into him, shoulders shaking, fingers fisting the back of his coat like she was holding on to him.
“I’m sorry,” she said into his chest, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to… I just—”
“It's okay,” Chan whispered, arms wrapping around her tightly. “I’ve got you.”
And in that moment — raw and unraveling — the truth settled in quietly.
It was the first time someone she thought would always stay… didn’t.
Notes:
💬 What did you think of Seungmin’s goodbye?
💡 Have you ever had one of those moments — where you couldn’t find the words, but showed up anyway?✨ I post fic updates, reader polls and chaos on Instagram: @twilightsecre8
Come hang out if you’re into that sort of thing 💬🫶I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments. Until next time, take care of your heart — and maybe go text that friend you’ve been thinking about. 💛
Chapter 10: Come Back to Us
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The villa sat just beyond the edges of Melbourne’s bustling heart, tucked against a quiet stretch of eucalyptus trees and salt air. Close enough to the city for the essentials, but far enough to feel like the world outside paused when the front door shut. The mornings came golden, breezes salty, and nights arrived with stars spread heavy above them — unfamiliar constellations, yet somehow calming.
It had been a little over a month since they arrived for their early law program at Harvard's Law campus — a program reserved for the exceptional, the overachieving, and, in their case, the quietly broken-hearted too.
Each of them had their own bedroom in the villa — sprawling enough for solitude, close enough that silence didn’t last long. It was Felix who filled most of that silence. Innie followed quietly behind. Jisu moved carefully through spaces. And Seungmin? He lingered somewhere between pretending and hoping no one noticed.
The first few days blurred in a haze of airport fatigue, orientation lectures, and group project handouts. Now, they’d settled into a routine. Breakfasts with half-open eyes, campus walks where the gravel crunched beneath sneakers and conversations stayed light.
Felix leaned back into the living room couch one evening, scrolling idly on his tablet. “Are we gonna pretend Innie doesn’t hog all the milk?”
“I buy the milk,” Innie replied from the kitchen without missing a beat.
“You buy some milk. I buy the expensive kind.”
“You buy lactose-free milk because you think it makes your skin glow.”
“Isn’t it?” Felix deadpanned, pointing at his cheek. “Look at this radiant complexion.”
Jisu chuckled from the dining table where she was highlighting a textbook. “It’s the moisturizer, lix-ah. We’ve seen your routine.”
Seungmin padded in quietly, fresh from a solo walk. Hoodie slightly damp from sea mist, brows furrowed the way they always were when he thought too much. He offered a lazy smile. “You guys seriously fight about dairy every week?”
“Tradition,” Felix replied, grinning.
“You were out a while,” Jisu asked him gently, her voice soft beneath the laughter. He nodded. “Yeah. Just needed air.”
Later that night, She knocked gently on Seungmin’s door, poking her head in. “You still alive in there?”
He was on his couch, fingers lightly tapping a pen against a closed notebook. “Barely.”
She stepped in and closed the door behind her. Jisu, just her — quiet, steady — as she made her way over and curled up on the armchair across from him. “You are being quiet these days.”
“I’m always quiet.”
She gave him a look. Not sharp. Just true. “Not with us,” she said, nodding toward the photo on his shelf — the one of him, Jisu, Felix, and Innie, all grinning into the sun on Busan Beach. “And not with me.”
He didn’t answer. The silence between them was heavy, like both of them were holding a side of something delicate. After a pause, she said softly, “Have you… thought about texting Unnie?”
His jaw tensed just slightly. “It’s too soon.”
Jisu nodded. “Maybe. But maybe it’s not just about the timing?”
“She probably doesn’t want to hear from me.”
“Or maybe,” she murmured, “she just doesn’t know how to say she does.”
Seungmin leaned back in his chair, eyes falling to the edge of the desk. His voice dropped lower.
“Min-ah… she didn’t hate you. She was hurt. That’s not the same.”
“I didn’t want to make it harder for her,” he whispered. “Suddenly leaving was already—”
“I know.” Jisu leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees. Her voice was quiet, but unflinching. “You did what you had to. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t ache on both sides.”
He stared down at his hands, thumbs pressing against each other. He didn’t say much — didn’t argue. His walls weren’t high tonight. They were just… tired. Worn thin at the edges. Jisu stood up slowly and walked over to him. She reached down and took his hand gently in hers. Then, carefully, she sat beside and leaned her head against his shoulder — soft and familiar, like she’d done it a hundred times before. Like she knew it was what he needed.
Her voice was barely above a whisper. “It’s okay, Seungmin-ah. You’re allowed to be stuck. To miss her. To not know how to come back from that yet.”
He swallowed hard. She felt the breath catch in his chest. She gave his arm a small squeeze and said, quieter this time. “But remember… you’re here for a reason too. And we’re all here — together. So take your time.”
She tilted her head just enough to look at his face. “But, come back to us. And come back to me… as our Dandy boy Seungmin again, please.”
She smiled faintly, eyes still closed. “I’m waiting.”
A beat passed. And then, barely audible “…Okay. Sometimes… I pretend I’m doing better so no one asks. It’s easier that way.”
“I know,” she whispered. “But easier isn’t always kinder to yourself.”
He looked at her finally, eyes tired but grateful. “Thanks, Jisu-ya.” he gently squeezed her hand.
She squeezed his hand once more,“Okay"
Then she stood. "Sleep, dummy. We have class at 8.”
He watched her walk out, her silhouette framed by the soft hallway light. Then he turned his phone over, unlocked it, and opened a draft message.
He’d written it days ago but never sent it.
Now, with a quiet breath, he pressed send.
The villa was quiet, lit only by a warm light over the stove and the soft hum of the fridge. Jisu stood barefoot on the cool tile, mug of coffee in her hands, staring out through the window into the dark garden. Her phone buzzed.
Incoming call 📞 Minhee Eomma
She stepped into the pantry hallway for privacy before answering. “Hello?”
“Jisu-ya,” Minhee’s voice came gentle, a little worn. “Did I call too late?”
“No, not at all.” Jisu smiled, her tone soft. “I was still up. It’s good to hear your voice, Eomma.”
There was a pause on the other end — a quiet inhale, like she’d been holding something in. “How is he doing?” Minhee asked finally. “He barely says anything when we talk. I can hear it in his voice — he’s still carrying it.”
Jisu leaned against the wall, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s… quieter than usual. Tries to act like everything’s fine, but I think the days are catching up with him.”
Minhee sighed. “That boy… always so composed. He keeps things inside because he thinks it protects everyone else.”
“I know,” Jisu murmured. “But he’s not alone. We remind him of that — even when he pretends not to hear it.”
A small laugh escaped Minhee, weary but full of affection. “He’s lucky. You guys have always been good to him.”
After a beat, Jisu swallowed and asked softly, “Eomma… are you stil mad at him? For not telling you about the plan earlier? "
Another pause. And then— “No,” Minhee said, with something close to a sigh. “Not mad. Not hurt either, Jisu-ya. I'm Just... unprepared. Sending my only son across the world—so suddenly and so quietly —it didn’t leave me much time to prepare. That’s all. I think I just needed a proper time to settle.”
Jisu nodded even though Minhee can't see.
Minhee said softly. “He forgets I’m not made of glass. I don’t break that easily — I bend. Mothers bend.” There was a gentle ache in her tone. Not blame, just longing.
Jisu smiled faintly. “He’ll come around. Maybe not all at once, but he’s trying.”
“I'm glad,” Minhee said, quieter now. “And I feel better knowing he has you."
“I’ll always be here,” Jisu promised. “He may take his time… but he’s healing. Slowly. I can see it.”
Minhee’s voice broke, just slightly. “That’s all I needed to hear tonight.”
“Thank you, Jisu-ya” Minhee whispered. “Sleep well, sweetheart.”
“You too, Eomma. Call me anytime.”
“You’re a blessing. Thank you for being his safe place. It means more than you know.” Then the line goes off.
Jisu put her phone down, feeling the weight and warmth of responsibility. It was a promise she would keep — quietly, steadfastly, no matter how far from home they were.
Notes:
Not everything has to be okay yet.
Some things just need room to breathe — like regret, like distance, like a mother’s love waiting patiently on the other end of a call❤️Thanks for reading this chapter. ✨
Chapter 11: One Text at a Time
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The days blurred after the airport. Hyune moved through them like she was half-there, floating through classes, group chats, cafeteria lines. She smiled when she had to. Laughed when it was expected. But her eyes stayed just a little too quiet. The trio noticed, of course.
Chan didn’t press. Instead, he showed up — driving her to school even when his was in the other side, leaving her favourite jelly candies tucked into her pencil case, texting her random memes when she hadn’t answered a single message all day. Sometimes she replied. Most of the time she didn’t.
But she read everything.
Saturday, 7:15 PM
🐺:Found a stray cat outside the studio. Tried to name it “Architect,” but it just gave me a look.
Sunday, 3:40 PM
🐺: Serious question: Socks with sandals — fashion statement or fashion crime?
Monday, 9:10 AM
🐺: Iced Americano or green tea? Emergency question.
Monday, 9:45 AM
🥟: Cold Coffee?
Tuesday, 7:05 PM
🐺: Just watched a documentary on birds. How they find their way. Made me think of you.
Tuesday, 7:18 PM
🥟: That’s… kind of sweet. I hope I find my way just as well.
Wednesday, 11:00 PM
🐺: They’ve made pineapple on pizza illegal in Italy. I’m devastated.
(Ok, that’s fake. But can you imagine?)
Wednesday, 11:56 PM
🥟: "That’s a crime!”
Thursday, 4:20 PM
🐺: Tried making that spicy snack you like. Almost burned the kitchen down.
Thursday, 4:38 PM
🥟:Haha, maybe stick to ordering for now. I don’t need you turning the kitchen into a disaster zone! 😅
Sunday, 10:05 PM
🥟: Oppa…
🥟: Are you still awake?
🥟: I… um…
🥟: Kind of want to hear your voice.
🥟: It’s just…
🥟: Weird without your texts tonight.
Sunday, 10:05 PM
🐺:Been missing you quietly all week, Hyune-yah. You have no idea how much I needed that, this made today better than the rest🫶🏼.
📞📱 10:05 PM — Outgoing call (1 hr 34 min)
Lina was gentler than usual — inviting her over under the excuse of needing help with a project slideshow, even when it was obvious she didn’t. And Changbin kept sending terrible song drafts to their group chat, tagging her name with “this feels like your vibe right?” just to make her roll her eyes. It wasn’t immediate. But slowly, the heaviness softened.
Somewhere between laughter over convenience store ice cream and whispered late-night convos on rooftops, Hyune started to feel like herself again — like the her before Incheon airport, before goodbyes sealed in terminal lights.
But some part of her still stayed closed. Tucked away. Waiting. And then, one evening — nearly a month later — her phone buzzed.
🐶: You’re probably busy. But… I hope CSAT prep isn’t melting your brain. Just wanted to check in.
Hyune stared at the message for a long time. She didn’t feel the immediate rush of ache like she thought she would. Just a quiet thud in her chest. A memory of something warm that used to live there.
After several days — and almost deleting the draft more than once — she finally typed back.
🥟: I’m okay. Hope you’re settling in.
It wasn’t much. But it was the first real text between them in weeks. Seungmin didn’t push. Just left a small reply with a 🐶 emoji and a line about the time difference wrecking his schedule.
It wasn’t the same. But maybe it wasn’t supposed to be. Not yet.
Minhee eomma called sometimes. Not often, but just enough. She never asked too much. Never mentioned Seungmin unless Hyune did. “You’re allowed to take your time,” she said one Sunday afternoon. “Friendship doesn’t always mean instant forgiveness. Space can be love, too.”
Hyune nodded. She didn’t cry. But her heart swelled in that odd, aching way when someone says exactly what you didn’t know you needed to hear.
The CSAT crept closer, and school life tilted into overdrive. Hyune barely looked up from her notes, always seated beside Changbin — the two of them trading snacks, scribbling formulas, pushing through one mock exam after another. The halls felt heavier now, filled with quiet tension. Seniors moved like they were holding their breath. Even laughter between them came in quick, borrowed bursts — no one really had time for it anymore.
But, Chan remained by her side. Every day, he was there — quiet, steady, and full of gentle attention.
One night, while they walked home from a her late class, she glanced at him and said softly, “You know… I think after graduation… I’ll be ready.” Chan looked at her, surprised — but didn’t ask what she meant. He didn’t have to. She smiled, small but certain. For the first time in weeks, her chest didn’t feel split between missing and moving forward.
Maybe she was allowed to have both.
Changbin barely knocked before Lina opened the door. The late evening light filtered softly through the penthouse windows, casting long shadows across the room. He stepped inside, shrugging off his jacket with a tired sigh.
Lina smiled warmly, setting down the tea she’d just poured. “How are your exams going? You’ve been MIA lately.” Changbin flopped onto the couch, stretching out. “They’re okay. But honestly? I have no clue what I want to do after school.”
She sank beside him, nudging his shoulder playfully. “You always say that. But you’re good at so many things, Binnie. You have options. Don’t stress.”
He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “Am I? Sometimes I feel like a mess.” Lina laughed softly, reaching out to tousle his hair like she always did. “Yes, you are. The kind of mess I actually like. You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. You’ve got time.”
Changbin grinned, leaning into her hand as she ruffled his hair. “You really think I’d make a decent architect? I’m all over the place.”
“Yeah,” she said, brushing her fingers through his hair. “You’re creative and smart. You’d be good at it. But if music’s your thing, you’ll find your way there too.”
He launched into his usual stream of thoughts — about songs he was working on, classes he liked, worries about the future. Lina listened, her hand occasionally sliding through his hair, steady and patient.
After a while, his voice slowed, and the room grew quiet except for the city hum outside. Changbin glanced up, noticing Lina’s eyes — tired, a little dimmer than usual. He blinked, concern washing over his face. “Noona… are you really okay? You look tired. Like, more than usual.”
She hesitated, biting her lip, then offered a small, guarded smile. “It’s nothing, just college stuff. You know how that goes.”
Changbin frowned, unsettled but careful not to press too hard. He reached out, taking her hand gently in his. “If it’s other stuff, maybe you should let me help. Your dongsang can be a good listener too, you know.”
Slowly, he laid his head on her lap, sighing softly. Lina’s fingers found their way back to his hair, stroking gently. She looked down at him, warmth flickering in her eyes despite the weariness. “Thanks, Binnie. And I know that.”
The penthouse settled into a comfortable silence — two people leaning on each other in the quiet, sharing a moment that didn’t need words to be understood.
Notes:
Chan’s texts are those little sparks in Hyune’s cloudy days — memes, silly questions, and quiet check-ins that say, “I’m here, no pressure.” 🐺📱💬
Sometimes it’s not about big gestures, but the steady, soft presence that reminds you you’re not alone. 💛✨
Can you relate to those quiet moments when someone just shows up? 🥹💭💕
Hope you all have your Chan in your lives. 💙Thanks for reading! See you in the next chapter! 🌙📖💫
Chapter 12: The Last Bell
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Changbin and Hyune buried themselves in their studies, their days blurring together in a relentless rhythm of textbooks, practice tests, and late-night review sessions. The CSAT loomed large—the gatekeeper to the one college they both dreamed of attending, the same one where Chan and Lina were already carving their paths. They pushed each other, trading notes and sharing strategies, their determination fuelled by this shared goal. Bright and diligent, they embraced the challenge with quiet resolve, often finding comfort in each other’s steady presence amid the mounting pressure.
When November finally arrived, they faced the exam with nerves and hope intertwined. As they handed in their papers, both felt a deep, unshakable confidence that their hard work had paid off. The days that followed seemed to fly by until suddenly they found themselves standing side by side in their graduation gowns, surrounded by the chill of late winter giving way to the first hints of spring, ready to embrace the future ahead.
Meanwhile, Changbin was almost knocked off his feet by his mom’s tight embrace. “My Binnie!” she exclaimed, voice thick with emotion. “Top scores! My smart, stubborn boy — you did it!”
She pulled back just enough to cup his face, eyes shimmering. “You really did it.”
His dad stood behind her, quieter as always, but his pride was unmistakable in the way he gave Changbin a solid nod and a firm pat on the back. “Well done, son.”
“There you are,”Lina said with a gentle smile, holding out a small bouquet of yellow tulips. “I thought these belonged with the person who worked the hardest.”
Changbin blinked, laughing as she hugged him. “What’s this? Bribery?”
“Celebration,” she corrected, poking his cheek.
Just then, Changbin’s mom sidled up beside Lina with a long, dramatic sigh. She jerked her thumb at her son. “This rascal’s following you again. Even to college now.”
Lina burst into laughter. “Aigoo, déjà vu! High school round two!”
Changbin groaned, throwing his hands up. “Why am I always the one getting bullied?”
His mom reached up to ruffle his hair, eyes warm with affection. “That’s what happens when you’re the heart of the group.”
Lina leaned over, her voice soft as she rested her head briefly on his shoulder. “And you never complain about being loved too much, do you?”
And for a second, in the middle of all the teasing, applause, and leftover winter chill — Changbin just stood there, soaking it all in, his heart fuller than he ever expected.
As the breeze stirred the tassels of graduation caps, and laughter echoed in warm bursts between proud parents and swaying gowns. Hyune stood at the far end of the school courtyard, her robe slightly too big at the shoulders—borrowed from an older student, a reminder that she was still growing in more ways than one. Her cheeks flushed from all the photos, she tried to look dignified for the camera but couldn’t help bursting into giggles every time her father made a funny face behind it.
“You did it, Hyune-yah,” her father whispered, pulling her into a tight embrace, his hand gently cradling the back of her head for a moment. “Always proud of you, my girl.” When he pulled back, his eyes scanned the crowd before he leaned in again.
“So…” he murmured slyly, “is that Chan over there?”
she pursed her lips, looking down before nodding once. “Mm.”
He raised a brow, smirking as he subtly gestured toward the young man laughing with Changbin and Lina near the steps. “The one you talk about with your mom but never mention to me?”
Hyune blinked, cheeks flushing. “Appa—!”
Her father didn’t say anything right away. He just kept watching Chan for a few more seconds, then nodded slowly. “He looks…” He didn’t finish.
Hyune turned to him, frowning. “Looks… what?”
He chuckled softly, hand resting on her shoulder. “He looks good. Confident. “The kind who’s careful with the things—and people—he cares about.”
That made her smile, finally. “He does, actually.”
Just then, Chan noticed them and approached with a nervous but warm smile. He bowed slightly, extending a hand. “Hello, Abeonim. It’s Bang Chan. We met a while back at that family gathering. It’s really nice to see you again. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Hyune’s father’s face softened as he shook Chan’s hand. “Ah, yes Chan-ah! You’ve grown into quite the young man. Good to see you again.”
Kang Junho returned the handshake warmly. “Likewise. I heard you’re taking her out this evening?”
Chan scratched the back of his neck, his posture straight. “Yes. If that’s okay with you. I’ll have her back home before ten.”
Her father raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth lifting just a bit. “Before ten, huh?” He glanced at Hyune, then back at Chan. “You’ve always been the responsible type. I trust you’ll keep it that way.”
Chan offered a small smile. “Yes, Abeonim. Not a minute late.”
Hyune let out a quiet groan, her face warming. “Appa…”
He gave her a sidelong look, amused. “What? I’m just making sure he knows who he’s answering to.”
Then, turning back to Chan, his tone softened. “You take care of her, yeah?”
“I will,” Chan said, sincerely.
Her father finally gave a short nod, his gaze lingering on them both. Alright then. “Go on — have a good time.”
Changbin and Hyune found their quiet corner along the low stone wall by the field, where they’d spent countless afternoons talking and laughing through the years. Their legs swung freely, caps tucked into their laps, robes catching the occasional breeze.
Changbin’s eyes drifted over the thinning crowd—proud parents, chatting graduates, fading laughter—and he sighed quietly. “You know,” he began, voice soft, “Noona and Hyung always graduated before me. Elementary, middle school… even high school.” He glanced at Hyune. “Every time, I ended up alone that last year. I had friends, sure, but it still felt empty. Like something was missing.”
Hyune turned to him, a small smile playing on her lips. “I remember. You looked like a puppy who’d lost his favorite toy.”
A faint grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, well… but from then on, you stayed.” His voice lowered, soft enough that only she could hear. “I don’t think I realized back then how much I needed someone to.”
Her gaze softened, eyes shimmering with quiet affection as her voice dropped to a tender murmur. “I’m always going to stay, Binnie-ya. You know that, right?”
He nodded. After a brief silence, Changbin met her eyes, his tone calm but sincere. “Hyune, thank you… for staying. I don’t think I ever said it properly, but it meant everything to me.”
She returned his look with a gentle smile, warmth radiating from her steady gaze. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m here, Binnie-ya. Always.”
A moment later, Hyune leaned into his side and rested her head lightly on his shoulder, her elbow hooking through his in that easy, familiar way. It was a quiet comfort they’d grown into without realizing. Hyune broke the silence. “I’m really going to miss this place. More than I thought I would.”
Changbin nodded slowly. “Me too. It’s strange… all those mornings rushing through the gates, the smell of rain on the pavement, the sound of laughter echoing down the halls. It was just normal back then, but now it feels like a lifetime.”
“We’re going to miss the routine,” Hyune said softly. “The familiar rhythm of school life. But I’m glad I got to share it with you.”
Changbin smiled, a spark of hope lighting his eyes. “Me too. And hey—we’re going to the same college, right? So this—us—this bond isn’t ending. It’s just beginning.”
Hyune nodded, warmth spreading through her. “Yeah. No matter what comes next, we’ll figure it out together.”
They shared a quiet promise, the weight of the future both exciting and uncertain. Then, after a hesitant breath, Hyune glanced at him with a shy smile.
“Hey… you know Chan oppa asked me out tonight, right?”
Changbin’s head tilted slightly. “Yeah? Finally like... a date?”
She nodded, her voice caught somewhere between nervous excitement and quiet dread. “A real one.”
He tried to keep it light. “Please. You two have gone out so many times—it’s not exactly your first.”
Hyune let out a soft scoff. “First one where I actually care what happens,” she muttered, fingers absentmindedly picking at the seam of her gown. Then, more quietly, “I’m scared. Love feels… huge. Like this overwhelming thing that could swallow you whole if you’re not careful.”
Changbin stayed quiet, just listening.
“But with Oppa…” she continued, her voice steadying, “it doesn’t feel like something to fear. He makes it feel… small. Manageable. Kind.” A soft smile appeared on her lips. “He makes it feel like everything’s okay.”
Changbin turned to look at her, but she was still gazing into the distance, lost in thought. He tried to tease, but the tenderness in his voice gave him away.
“Do you even know how you look right now? Talking about him like that?”
Her head snapped toward him. “Yah! Don’t ruin it!”
He raised both hands in mock defense. “Okay, okay. Sorry. Go on.”
She huffed, then relaxed again, letting her gaze drift back to the sky. “You know what’s more stupid? He says I look like a ferret every time I laugh.”
Changbin’s heart paused for a beat — as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard her right.
It was a throwaway comment to her—laughable, harmless. But it landed somewhere deeper in him, somewhere tender.
She didn’t notice. Her voice had lightened now, almost dreamy, as she kept talking.
He smiled — gently, belatedly. Even if it cracked a little at the corners.
He didn’t say anything. Just let the moment pass, even as something small and sharp curled in his chest.
Notes:
Changbin and Hyune have come so far and though this feels like a end of one journey, it's really just the beginning of another. Thank you so much for being here with them.
Chapter 13: The Shape of Something New
Notes:
Hey everyone! 😊
Just a quick heads-up: I’ll be taking a short break for the next week, so there won’t be any updates during that time. But to make up for it, I’m dropping a *double update* today! 🎉
Thanks so much for your patience, and I hope you enjoy these chapters while I’m away!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Evening had settled in gently — the soft glow from Lina’s living room lamps cast warm pools of light around the space, and a calm breeze rustled the curtains. Chan stood by the window, arms crossed, stealing a glance at the two seated nearby.
Lina was curled up on the sofa, a mug of green tea warming her hands, eyes curious but patient. Changbin sat on the floor, legs crossed, flipping a pen between his fingers, pretending to focus but clearly waiting.
The silence stretched just long enough to feel thick, and then Chan finally spoke, his voice low and steady.
“I’m telling her tonight.”
Lina looked up sharply, eyebrows raised. “Telling who what?”
Chan turned away from the window, shooting Lina a pointed look who has a sly grin tugging at the corner of her lips clearly amused. “Lina-ya… don’t act like you don’t know.”
Chan sat down next to them, settling comfortably, but his hands twitched just a little. “Anyway… I’m going to propose Hyune. Officially.”
A beat. There was a brief pause — the kind that always comes before a squeal. “Oh my god, finally.”
Chan rubbed the back of his neck, a shy grin breaking through. “Yeah. I want it to mean something. and Hey, I’m just waiting until she graduates...”
Lina raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Ah, the classic ‘patience is a virtue’ move. Very gentlemanly of you.”
Across the room, Changbin didn’t react right away. He set the pen down on the table and glanced at Chan. “You really like her?” His voice was calm, careful.
Chan nodded without hesitation. “I do. More than I know how to explain.”
Changbin opened his mouth—like he wanted to say something more—but then closed it again. He looked away. “Alright.”
Lina, sitting nearby, silently observed the quiet tension and softly nudged Changbin, who was sitting at her feet on the ground. “What’s with that face?”
“What face?” Changbin said quickly.
Lina nudged his side again. “The face you make when you swallow your opinion.”
Changbin shook his head. “Nothing. Just... she’s important to me. I mean, both of them are important...” His words trailed off, murmured without clarity.
Chan looked at him, the smallest flicker of understanding in his eyes. “I know she is.”
Another silence passed between them, softer this time—unspoken things lingering in the quiet.
Back at Hyune’s house, the air was softer than usual — too still, like the quiet before rain.
Her mother had spent most of the afternoon lying down. Nothing urgent, nothing dramatic — just a kind of hush in her body that didn’t sit right with Hyune. She’d always been able to sense shifts like this, even the smallest ones.
When Ahjumma Soo, the family’s long-time housekeeper, noticed her madam’s complexion turn pale and her breath slow, she hadn’t hesitated. One phone call later, Yeri was on her way.
Yeri moved like someone who belonged without ever claiming to — graceful, unspoken, the kind of presence that settled a room without needing to say much. Years of familiarity had made her more than just a nurse — she was family, even if no one ever said it aloud.
Hyune sat cross-legged on the floor beside her mother’s bed, her expression tight with quiet worry, a damp cloth in hand.
“Hyune-yah,” her mother said gently, a faint smile on her lips. “I’m alright. You should be getting ready.”
“You didn’t look alright an hour ago,” Hyune murmured, dabbing her mother’s temple.
“It was just a nap. I overdid it a little this morning.”
Yeri entered with practiced calm, standing at the bedside. “Mind if I check on you, Madam?”
Hyune stood, motioning toward her mother. “Unni, please. Just make sure.”
Yeri gave her a reassuring smile. “Of course.”
Her hands moved with quiet efficiency — blood pressure, pulse, a few soft questions. Her touch was gentle, her voice even. A few minutes later, she straightened with a small nod.
“She’s fine. Vitals are stable — just a bit worn out, that’s all.”
“I told you,” Haejin said, a hint of playfulness returning. “You worry too much.”
Hyune let out a breath, half a laugh, half relief. “Maybe. But I’d rather over-worry than miss something.”
Yeri turned toward her, amusement flickering in her eyes. “So… where are you off to tonight?”
Hyune hesitated. “Mm.. Just… going out. With a friend.”
Her mother raised a brow. “A particular friend?”
Yeri’s smile deepened. “Ahh. Now I get it.”
Hyune groaned, cheeks heating. “You two are the worst.”
Haejin chuckled, voice soft and low. After a moment, she reached for Yeri’s hand. “Yeri-yah… could you help her get ready? I would, but…”
Yeri gave a knowing nod before the sentence could finish. “Say no more, Madam.”
Hyune blinked. “Unni, I’m not ten, you don’t have to—”
“Exactly,” Yeri interrupted, already heading toward the door. “Which is why someone needs to help you fix that eyeliner before it betrays you again.”
That earned a reluctant laugh from Hyune — and a glance back toward her mother, who smiled, tired but content.
“Go, sweetheart,” Haejin said softly. “Enjoy your evening. You deserve something lovely.”
And for the first time that day, the stillness in the air seemed to lift — just a little.
In Hyune’s room, the light was softer. Yeri dabbed a brush lightly over her cheek, blending with practiced ease. Her voice stayed quiet, like she didn’t want to disturb the moment. “You’re nervous Hyune-yah.”
“I’m not.”
Yeri raised an eyebrow.
“…Okay, maybe a little.”
Yeri smiled. “That’s alright. It means it matters.”
Hyune fiddled with her bracelet. “Do I look okay?”
Yeri paused, then turned her gently toward the mirror. “You look gorgeous.”
Before stepping out, Hyune returned to her mother’s room. She knelt beside the bed, taking her mother’s hand. “I’ll be back before ten,” she whispered.
Her mother brushed her hair from her face. “Go live your moment, sweetheart.”
Hyune turned to Yeri. “Unni, please stay until Appa gets home?”
“I will,” Yeri said. “Go.”
Chan was already waiting by the gate. When he saw her, he blinked like he hadn’t expected her to look quite like this. “You…” He stopped. “You look beautiful.”
She blushed. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
The car ride was quiet at first, a comforting kind of silence. Dinner was at a quiet bistro overlooking the river — tucked away, lit with warm candles, soft jazz playing from a corner speaker. Chan had reserved a spot in the corner, away from eyes. Nervous laughter came in spurts between courses. Hyune sipped her water too fast. Chris dropped his fork once.
But the moment came—unrushed. Chan reached across the table, gently taking her hand in his. “I was nervous about tonight,” he said. “But I didn’t want to wait anymore. Hyune-yah… i love you a lot and i don't know how did i even survive till this day to ask you out. Would you be my girlfriend?”
"Yes," she said — almost too fast, like the word had been sitting there, ready, just waiting for its turn.
They both burst out laughing at the same time — a mix of nervous and unsure of what to do next with the sudden joy bubbling between them.
Later, as they left the restaurant and as Chan opened her the car door, Hyune checked her phone for the third time. He noticed.
“Everything okay?”
She hesitated “My mom… didn’t feel well earlier.” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. “Her nurse said she was fine, and I believe her. But I just… I keep thinking about her.”
Chan’s hand reached across the console, finding hers without needing to search. He let his palm rest over hers — warm, steady. “Then let’s head back early.”
Her eyes widened a little. “You don’t have to. We still have time.”
“I want to,” he said. Then, turning to face her more fully, he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “We have all the time in the world. Tonight doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be real.”
Hyune stared at him and something in her chest shifted. Loosened. Softened. No one had ever made space for her this way before — without asking her to shrink or apologize.
When they reached her gate, neither of them moved at first. The quiet between them was not hesitation, but something slower. Something important. Hyune unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to face him, fingers nervously twisting the edge of her sleeve.
“Oppa,” she said, her voice quiet—tight with something deeper than nerves. “Thank you. For tonight. For… understanding. For not making me feel guilty about leaving early.”
Chan shook his head gently. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“I know,” she replied, a soft breath catching in her throat. “That’s why it means so much.”
She reached for the car door but hesitated, caught in a moment that felt too delicate to rush. Chan reached across and took her hand. He didn’t say anything more—just lifted it slowly and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. The gesture was simple, but it said everything.
When he pulled back, she was smiling—wide and warm, her eyes soft with something that had been quietly blooming for a long time. “This is only the beginning,” he murmured.
Hyune nodded, her heart full. “Goodnight, Oppa.”
“Goodnight, Hyune-yah.”
She stepped out of the car, the cool evening air brushing across her cheeks like a reminder that the world outside still moved. At the gate, she turned once more. He was still watching her—still smiling like he’d never once considered looking away.
And when the door finally clicked shut behind her, she paused in the quiet entryway, her hand instinctively rising to her chest. Something there—something long locked away—had quietly, finally opened.
As Hyune stepped into the hallway in the quiet the hallway light was still on — low and golden — casting long shadows across the floor. She slipped off her shoes and turned toward the living room, surprised to find her father still awake, sitting on the couch with a cup of tea resting in his hands. His tie had been loosened, glasses slightly askew as if he'd nodded off and only just awakened.
“Hyune-yah?” he said, blinking. “You’re home early.”
She smiled, setting down her purse. “Yeah… I couldn't stay out too long.”
He studied her for a moment — a quiet, fatherly look — then nodded. Without another word, she headed toward her mother’s room. “She’s sleeping,” her father said gently, stopping her at the hallway’s bend. “Yeri left just a few minutes ago. Everything’s fine.”
Hyune paused. Her hand lowered from the doorknob. Then she turned back and walked slowly toward her father, lowering herself beside him on the couch. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but something unspoken pulsed under it.
After a long pause, she said softly, “Appa… is she really okay?”
He took a sip of tea before answering, his eyes staying forward. “She’s resting better now. Her vitals are normal.”
Hyune watched the steam curl from his cup. Her voice cracked faintly when she spoke again. “She went through so much, appa. After everything with the hospital, the medication… all those years…” Her throat tightened. “I just don’t want to see her sick again.”
“I know,” he said. “Neither do I.”
Hyune leaned against his shoulder. “Let’s do our best to make her happy, yeah?” He turned then, slowly.
He Looked at her with something unreadable in his eyes and gave a soft hum of agreement. “Of course."
“Go rest,” he murmured, placing a hand on her head. “You’ve had a long day.”
And though she nodded and rose, Hyune kept glancing back once or twice at her mother's room disappearing down the hall. Something — she couldn’t say what — didn’t settle quite right.
Notes:
And we’re finally here—Chan and Hyune’s moment! 🥺. After all the teasing, the hesitation, and the quiet growth, they’ve taken a step forward together.
Whether it’s Chan holding space for her or Hyune navigating her own complex emotions, they’re learning that life isn’t just about perfect moments — it’s about the real, messy, beautiful ones.
Thank you for reading! 💛
Chapter 14: Don’t Worry, I’ve Got Her
Notes:
I’m back from my break — and it feels good to be writing again! ✨🖋️
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Soft golden light spilled from crystal chandeliers, casting a warm glow over polished mahogany counters and velvet-upholstered stools. The murmur of well-dressed patrons filled the air, mingling with the gentle clink of fine glassware and the subtle notes of jazz drifting from a distant corner. Every detail whispered luxury — from the gleam of silver trays to the delicate aroma of aged whiskey and exotic spices.
Amid this elegant atmosphere, a young woman sat alone at the bar, posture relaxed but precise — a presence that drew attention without asking for it. She was beautiful in a way that didn’t need effort; striking enough to make people glance twice, then look again just to be sure.
She stirred the ice in her glass with a finger, her other hand propping up her chin as she leaned into the counter. Her third drink — maybe fourth. The line had already blurred.
“This your usual spot?” the bartender asked, returning with a fresh rag slung over one shoulder. Mid-twenties, maybe. Friendly face. Sleepy eyes. “Or maybe you’re stirring up someone else’s usual tonight?”
She slowly met his gaze, blinking like it took her a moment to really get the question. Then a sweet, crooked smile bloomed. “Mmm… maybe I’m just breakin’ my own little pattern tonight,” she giggled, her voice all soft and syrupy, like honey mixed with a splash of gin.
A soft laugh escaped him. “Is that your usual charm, or just tonight’s special?”
“Thaat’s jus’ the giiin talkinnn’,” she giggled, tilting her head with a playful wiggle. “She’s got soo many more ideaas than me t’nightt~”
He leaned slightly on the bar. “Want another?”
“Only if it don’ tell me t’ behave,” she slurred playfully, “or expect me t’ smiiile all nice-nice...”
He gave a soft, knowing nod. “One emotionally low-maintenance drink, coming up.”
She gave him a lazy thumbs-up, then glanced at her phone as it buzzed across the polished wood. The screen lit up, and her fingers stilled mid-motion.
Her eyes softened — just slightly — and lingered. Then, without a word, she reached for it.
🥟:Unnieeeeeee finally it happened!!! 🩷🩷🩷
📸 A blurry selfie popped up — Hyune and Chan, cheeks red and grins uncontrollably wide.
🥟: He asked me out. Like—officially. “Hyune-ah, would you be my girlfriend?” and I said YES before he even finished 😭😭😭💘
Lina blinked at the message. She smiled faintly and typed—
🐰: aaaawww u guyyyss 😭😭 tha’s rly sweeettt.. pls take care o’ each otherrr, okaayy~?
🥟: Unnie?
🥟: Are you…
🥟:busy?
🐰: 🙅♀🙅♀🍸
Hyune stared at the last message before pressing call.
Outgoing call to Nyang♡Unni 📞
Lina answered on the second ring, voice thick with laughter and the effects of her drink. “Yahhhh, romantic girl,” slurred Lina. “Did ya misssth me already?”
Hyune’s voice came through light and teasing, easy like they’d just been chatting. “Unni, what’s with you? You drunk or something?”
Lina’s reply was soft, slow, a little fuzzy around the edges, the slur barely noticeable. “A biiit sauc-ed… but not fallin’ ova yettt.”
Hyune chuckled, the faint background hum of music drifting through the line. “Okay, where are you? I can hear music.”
Lina’s eyes caught the neon sign flickering in the bar mirror. Her words came out a little thick but steady. “Jus’ a pub... nothin’ wild.”
Hyune’s tone stayed light, playful. “With who?”
A beat. Lina’s voice softened, dropping into a whisper that was still colored by the drink. “Myseelf.”
Hyune paused. The teasing in her voice faded like a slow breath out. “Unnie... why’re you drinking alone?”
Lina’s words came slow and thick, like molasses slipping through tired lips. “Le-let your unnie liiiive a lil’… jus’ for to-night, Jagiyaa~”
Hyune’s breath caught in her throat. She imagined the dull clink of glasses around Lina, the low murmur of strangers, “Where exactly are you? Which pub?”
Lina’s voice dragged, reluctant but firm, like she was holding back more than she said. “Noooope… don’t be the smaaaart girl right now. I’m twennn-ty. Aduuult. Grown. Big girrrl. So pleaaase… jus’ le-let me be me to-night. The me that doesn’t haaaave to smiiiile or fix or caaarry or impress.”
Hyune’s heart tightened. The line felt fragile between them, a thread stretched thin. “Unni—”
Lina’s whisper was barely there, like the last flicker of a flame before it’s swallowed by dark. “From to-morrow…” she breathed, “I’ll be whoeeever they need me to be. Juust not to-night.”
The quiet stretched long enough for Hyune to feel every unspoken word. Then—the line went silent.
Hyune stared at the blank screen after the call dropped. Her thumb hovered over the contact again, debating whether to call back.
Instead, fingers trembling just a little. Without thinking twice, she tapped the screen.
📞 Channie Oppa🐺
The phone rang once. Twice. Then—
“Hello, Hyune-ah”
“Oppa… where are you?” Her voice was tight, worried.
Chan’s tone sharpened immediately. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Her breath hitched. “It’s Unni,” she said, the words tumbling out. “She’s drinking. Alone. In a pub. She sounded… off.”
A beat of silence. Then, low and serious, “…What?”
“She wouldn’t tell me which pub,” Hyune went on, swallowing. “I don’t know if she’s okay—she didn’t sound like herself.”
The silence on the line stretched—tight, heavy.
“I’ll find her, don't worry” Chan said, voice suddenly firm. “I’ll call Changbinie. He’s with her from when I left earlier.”
📞 Binnie🐷🐰
“Yo, hyung.” Changbin’s voice came through, calm as ever. “Do you still have time for me today?”
“Hyune just called me. Lina’s out drinking alone. You two were at her penthouse earlier, right?”
“Yeah. Mom planned a small graduation party at home, so I went back. Noona said she’d skip it this time.” Changbin sighed, tired and heavy. “Looks like she finally broke down.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s been at her limit for a while. Holding it all together. For everyone. Acting okay when she wasn’t.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t worry, hyung. If she said she’s at a pub… I know where.”
“I’m coming too—wher”
“No. Leave it to me.”
“Binnie, I’m worried…”
“Yeah, I know Hyung” Changbin’s voice dropped quieter. “But she needs someone who knows how to read her silences.”
Chan didn’t argue.
Back at Hyune’s place, she paced the living room, chewing her thumbnail when her phone rang. She answered quickly.
“Hyune-ah?” Chan’s voice was soft but alert.
Hyune swallowed and asked quietly, “She’s not okay, is she?”
“Binnie’s already on his way,” Chan said gently. “He said he knows where she is.”
Hyune let out a shaky breath and sank onto the couch. “Did we… miss something?” She dragged a hand through her hair. “Like… were we too caught up in our own stuff to see hers?”
Chan stayed silent for a long moment before his voice came, low and heavy. “Maybe…”
He swallowed hard, the weight of his own words hanging thick between them. “That’s why Binnie knew exactly where to find her… but I didn’t.”
Hyune caught the sharp edge of guilt and regret threading through his voice, a quiet pain that pressed down hard.
“Oppa…”
“Hmm?” he replied softly, but the hesitation was there.
She blinked back the sting rising in her chest. “Don’t blame yourself so much,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “It’s okay. Tonight, she’s got Binnie.”
Her words softened further, almost a promise. “We’ll go tomorrow, okay?”
Another pause. Then, barely above a breath, Chan replied, “Yeah. Tomorrow.”
Hyune slumped onto the couch, phone resting on her chest. Somewhere along the way, they’d started seeing Lina as the one who always had it together—the reliable one, the unshakable one. But tonight… she broke that image.
And that scared Hyune more than anything.
Notes:
Lina’s really struggling, huh?
Sometimes, the strongest ones are the ones who quietly break. Tonight, Lina lets herself be just her — imperfect, tired, and real. She’s holding back the storm for everyone else, but in this moment, she just needs to breathe.
Thank you for walking this fragile night with her. Tomorrow, she’ll rise again — but for now, she’s allowed to simply be. 💔✨
Chapter 15: Orange Cat with Murder Paws
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The night had deepened, and Changbin pushed through the doors of a quiet but lively pub not far from Lina’s penthouse.
He didn’t have to look long. There she was — sitting at the bar, laughing to herself as the music pulsed low in the background. Her drink untouched now, just spinning slowly in her fingers.
Instead of approaching, Changbin slid into a booth tucked along the wall — one with a clear view of her. Arms folded, calm but focused. Watching.
She didn’t do much. Just sipped her drink, swayed a little to the music. Eyes half-lidded, like she wasn’t really there. Like her body was in the bar, but the rest of her was drifting somewhere else.
She looked tired.
People thought Lina was calm. Cool. In control. The one who always had answers, who didn’t need saving.
But he knew better.
He knew how deeply she loved her family — how her entire face would light up just at a glance from her grandfather, how she pushed herself harder than anyone could see, all just to hear a simple, genuine “well done ”that often never came.
He understood how desperately she longed to be truly seen, and how many times she felt invisible.
He felt the weight of her parents’ pride in their legacy, a weight that quietly crushed her own dreams.
He remembered the way she used to dance — wild, fierce, alive — before she packed that part of herself away, replacing it with business textbooks and forced compliance.
He carried the raw ache of every sacrifice she buried deep, every piece of herself she swallowed whole—for a family that never saw her, never cared who she really was or what she wanted. A family so blind to her pain, they left her invisible in their shadow.
She hadn’t told him all of it. She didn’t have to.
A guy approached her—young, cocky, with that unmistakable “I’m the best thing you’ll meet tonight” vibe. He slid into the seat beside her as if he owned the place, flashing a too-smooth smile.
Changbin’s gaze sharpened.
Lina turned her head, blinked once — slow — and frowned. Whatever the guy had said clearly didn’t land. “Huh?” she said, confused. Then her face crinkled into mild disgust. “Ew.”
The guy laughed like nothing was wrong, leaning in with a smug grin—just as Changbin was already halfway out of the booth when Lina’s heel slammed into his shin. Hard.
He yelped and staggered backward, alarm flickering in his eyes. Lina’s glare was razor-sharp, the tension in the air thickening
She lifted her leg again, already winding up for another strike, when the bartender swooped in. His hand came down on her arm “Hey, maybe—”
She only registered him for a heartbeat. Then flashed him a wicked, drunken grin. “Oh, good guy…” she drawled, voice low and velvety. “Thanks for the save. Now step aside—I’ve got this.”
Turning her full attention to the cocky guy, her tone dropped to a dangerous calm. “Yah, imma…” she began, tone dangerously cool. “You think just ‘cause I’m a little tipsy I won’t throw hands? Do you even hear yourself?”
The bar’s hum dulled as she continued, voice cold clarity wrapped in warmth. “I finally got a moment to breathe—to live for me. And you… you had to ruin it.”
She took a slow step forward. “I’m more dangerous when I’m drunk. So get lost—before I show you exactly what that means.”
Then calmly, unapologetically, she tossed her hair back with a slow flick of her hand, the motion fluid and precise, as if choreographed by instinct. Her chin lifted, eyes glittering with unspoken fire. Not angry. Not flustered. Just done.
The lights of the bar caught in the waves of her hair, casting her in a soft, electric halo.
Every head turned.
The music kept playing, but it felt like it was playing for her.
Phones whipped out like clockwork. Flash after flash sparked against the low-lit haze of the room.
The room held its breath.
Everyone just… stared. Like they'd blink and miss the moment.
A few jaws dropped. A couple of whispers passed like static through the crowd. Someone clutched their drink and mouthed oh my god.
And then—one guy, a little too loud, maybe a little drunk, said what they were all thinking:
“Damn. She’s fire.”
No one disagreed.
The cocky guy finally blinked, like the spell had just broken. He staggered back, pale and wide-eyed, the weight of a hundred stares pressing down on him. His apology came out as a mumble.
His legs shook as he turned and slipped into the crowd, ego in tatters, dignity burning red.
“50% Love, 50% Roast”
📸 [Video: Lina, a little tipsy, throwing down at Mr. Sleazy]
🐷🐰: Noona was on fire. Absolutely killed it.
🥟: OMG!! Unni smashed him like no one’s business…
🐺: What did he even do?! Is she okay?
🐷🐰: Don’t even stress. I’ve got her safe. Taking her home now. We need to talk tomorrow.
He slid his phone back into his pocket, shook his head, and finally walked over. This wasn’t the first time he’d picked up her broken pieces. But it was the first time she let them fall so publicly.
“Noona, enough… let’s go now.” Changbin reached for her gently.
She barely noticed him at first, but leaned on him like it was muscle memory—like she’d done it a hundred times before.
“I’m tired,” Lina mumbled.
“I know.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
“I won’t ask you to.”
He stayed beside her, one arm steadying her waist, until the bartender gave him a cautious look—brief suspicion flickering in his eyes.
But Lina turned to the man, her words slurring just slightly as she smiled — soft, tipsy, fading. “He’s good… he’s my…” she mumbled, the end trailing into something too quiet to catch.
And then she was out — fast asleep against Changbin’s shoulder, like her body had finally given up its last thread of resistance.
The bartender watched for a beat, then gave a small nod. “Her tab’s done.”
As Changbin helped her toward the door, a guy sidled up from the crowd, still buzzing from the drama. “Hey—do you know her?” he asked.
Changbin didn’t break stride. “Noona.”
The guy chuckled. “Oh, dongsaeng! Then maybe you can help me out—she’s totally my type. May I Get her number?”
Changbin stopped.
Turned.
And hit him with a look that could cut glass.
“Noon—” he began, then caught himself. “She’s an orange cat with murder paws,” he said flatly. “You wouldn’t survive a day.”
And with that, he walked out—with Lina still leaning into him, quiet and steady.
Lina blinked herself awake—groggy, confused. White sheets. Wooden walls. A faintly familiar scent. Wait.
She sat up suddenly. “Yah… when did I get to your place?”
Changbin appeared in the doorway, holding a glass of something fizzy. “Hangover tonic. Drink it.”
She stared at him, still baffled. “I—what even happened?”
“You don’t remember?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. Just set the glass on the bedside table and walked out.
No teasing.
No sarcasm.
No warmth.
Just quiet. Cold.
She frowned.
Something was off.
After a moment, she got up, washed her face, and wandered out into the living room—drowning in one of his oversized hoodies, the sleeves covering half her hands.
Chan was already there, seated with Changbin on the couch. Both looked up when she walked in.
Neither smiled.
She froze in the doorway.
Yeah. This wasn’t going to be a normal morning.
This was going to be a conversation.
And she wasn’t sure she was ready to have it.
Notes:
Seriously, who else can be so effortlessly dangerous and magnetic at the same time?
Is it her fierce “orange cat with murder paws” energy? Or the way she stays cool even when the world’s pushing her down?
I’m lowkey obsessed. What about you? What’s your favorite Lina charm? Let’s gush together! 💬🔥💖Also can we just take a sec to appreciate Lee Know’s stunning look at Gucci Osteria Seoul? That sleek black hair and perfectly tailored suit had us ALL literally dying. He absolutely stole the spotlight and straight-up broke the internet. Gucci couldn’t have chosen a better ambassador. Our king is glowing, and honestly, we are here for it! 🖤🔥
Chapter 16: Even Strong Ones Break
Notes:
Hey, lovely readers!
Not sure how many of you have noticed, but the tags for this story change as the chapters progress. They grow with the characters — just like the story does.
So if you're the type to scan the tags… keep an eye out. You might catch something new.😉
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Lina stepped in slowly, her movements hesitant. She was still wearing one of Changbin’s oversized hoodies, sleeves brushing her fingertips, her damp hair loosely tied back like she hadn’t bothered to dry it properly. There were faint shadows under her eyes — not just from a hangover, but something older. Deeper. She said nothing as she lowered herself onto the couch across from Chan and Changbin.
“Lina… what were you thinking? Going out alone like that? Getting drunk?” His tone didn’t rise, but the sharp edge was unmistakable. “Do you know what it felt like? Not knowing where you were?”
Lina swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on her chest. Her voice trembled slightly as she answered, “I—I know it wasn’t smart…”
She looked down, nervously fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. “But I needed to get away. Just for a little while. I’m… okay. I can handle myself.”
He shook his head, voice harder this time. “That doesn’t make it better, Lina. You’re not proving a point by putting yourself in danger.” A pause, then sharper still: “You scared the hell out of us.”
Changbin moved from the couch to kneel in front of her. His voice, when he spoke, was low and patient. “You don’t have to explain, okay?” he said. “Not now. Not even later, if you don’t want to.”
She bit down on her lower lip.
“You don’t have to keep it all together, Noona.
It’s okay to break sometimes.
You’re allowed to be tired… to not be okay.
You don’t have to hide it — not with me.”
A tear slipped from her eye, and she finally looked at him. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, but there was guilt swimming in them too.
“Next time,” he said softly, “don’t do it alone. If you need to disappear for a night, fine. Just tell one of us. We’ll sit beside you. Or drive you somewhere. Or leave you alone, if that’s what you need. Just don’t shut us out.”
She nodded.
Chan exhaled slowly and rubbed the back of his neck. The anger had drained from his face, leaving only concern and something that looked an awful lot like guilt. He crossed the room and knelt on the other side of Lina, opposite Changbin. “We just want you to share the burden. We’re here. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”
Lina’s eyes softened. “I get that. I’m sorry I made you all worry.”
Without hesitation, he pulled her into a gentle hug. Lina relaxed into it, closing her eyes for a moment. Changbin moved to join the embrace, wrapping an arm around her other side.
Just then, the front door opened and Hyune stepped in, her expression confused at first — then softening when she saw the three of them huddled together. She didn’t speak. She just walked over, sat beside Lina. “I’m sorry unni,” Hyune whispered. “I should’ve noticed. I’ll be checking on you more, okay?”
Lina gave a wet, breathy laugh — equal parts sad and grateful — and pulled Hyune into the hug too.
They sat like that for a while. Quiet. Breathing. Together.
Later that evening, after things had settled and the air had quieted, Hyune sat with her legs folded on Changbin’s couch, her phone resting in her lap. She stared at the screen for a long time. The last message she’d sent to Seungmin was weeks ago — maybe longer.
Things had changed. People had changed. But somehow… this still felt worth sharing. She opened their chat.
🥟: We’re dating now.
📸 [Selfie of her and Chan, both smiling together]
She hovered for a second… then hit send. The reply came a few minutes later.
🐶: Congrats, Noona. Really happy for you 🙂
She stared at the message, her lips twitching into a small, genuine smile. Just picturing that emoji made her imagine his goofy puppy grin. She wasn’t bitter anymore. Not really. Just… protective of herself now. No more oversharing. No more giving away pieces of herself to someone who wouldn’t give the same in return.
She tapped over to Instagram. Seungmin’s profile had been more active lately — a surprise, considering how quiet he’d gone after moving abroad.
He looked... happy. There were group shots with Jisu, Felix, and Innie — all smiles, sunlit days, and easy laughter. And somehow, that made her feel peaceful too.
Hyune locked her phone and glanced over at Lina, who had dozed off with her head against Changbin’s shoulder, her breathing soft and even. Lina’s legs were curled gently across Chan’s lap, his hands resting protectively on her leg, fingers lightly tracing small, comforting circles. The quiet closeness between the three of them spoke volumes — a silent understanding and support that didn’t need words.
Earlier that day, Chan and Changbin had taken turns watching over her, their eyes soft with quiet adoration. At lunch, Changbin had insisted on ordering her favorite spicy noodles, nudging the bowl closer with a small smile when she hesitated. Chan cracked jokes, his booming laugh filling the air, making Lina’s lips twitch into a genuine smile for the first time since morning.
When Lina tried to protest that she was fine, Changbin caught her hand gently, holding it steady until her shaky words softened into laughter. Chan, ever the steady presence, kept the conversation light, weaving stories from their childhood that made her eyes brighten and the tension ease from her shoulders.
Throughout the afternoon, they hovered nearby — fetching water, adjusting her blanket when a chill crept in, and sharing quiet glances that said, without needing to speak, We’re here. You’re safe.
Watching them, Hyune thought, She’s definitely their girl. And they’ll do everything to protect her.
A quiet resolve settled deep inside her.
'From now on, she promised herself, 'I will watch closer, hold firmer, and notice the moments they don’t say aloud.'
Because even the strongest souls carry silent fractures— and sometimes, all it takes is someone who sees the breaking, to help them heal.
Notes:
A lot of feelings in this one — soft hugs, quiet confessions, and a reminder that it’s okay not to be okay. Lina’s learning to let herself be held, and that’s a kind of strength too.
If you made it here, thank you for sticking with me. Comments, kudos, or just your silent presence mean more than you know 💬✨
Chapter 17: The Tension Between Lines
Notes:
As always, I appreciate every single one of you for reading!
I’d love to hear what you think—your feedback means so much. Thanks for all your support! 💫
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The days that followed passed in a blur of deadlines, timetables, and celebration. Hyune and Changbin had both received their CSAT results—and as expected, they made it into their dream university, the same one Chan and Lina already attended.
Lina, now a 2nd year majoring in Master of Business Administration, had settled into her routine. Chan was in his second year of architecture, his days packed with studio time and drafting.
Changbin joined as a freshman in the same department, quickly adjusting to the intense energy of the design labs.
Meanwhile, Hyune started her first semester in art and interior design, the excitement of university life still buzzing under her skin.
Schedules began to diverge. Where they once lounged together, shared lunch hours and spontaneous hangouts, now life felt tightly wound. Timetables didn’t match. Projects piled up. Everyone was moving at different speeds.
But still—Hyune and Chan found each other at the end of each day.
They’d walk back from campus together when they could, holding hands quietly. They didn’t talk much—Hyune was still too shy to hold his gaze for long. Something about being official made everything more real. And real felt... overwhelming. There was still that fluttering tension every time his fingers brushed hers.
Sometimes, she’d think, *I used to talk to him more when we weren’t dating. Even teasing him felt harder now.*
Their group chat—was alive with chaotic texts: from Chan sharing stressed architecture sketches, to Changbin sending memes, to Lina replying with dry comments that only she could make funny. Hyune popping in with the most random thoughts at odd hours.
“50% Love, 50% Roast”
🐷🐰: Not to be dramatic but I think Channie Hyung is officially an Insomniac zombie now.
12:20 AM
🥟: Oppa…😳 You said you'd sleep after saying goodnight ???
12:23 AM
🐺: I lied. For love. For art. For the sketch due at 9am.
12:26 AM
🐷🐰: So men in love really can’t sleep and lie a lot huh 🤔
12:29 AM
🐰: Correction:
He didn’t sleep before he was in love either.
He just has a prettier excuse now.
12:32 AM
🥟: love that I’m both the distraction and the inspiration 😇
12:35 AM
🐺: Wow okay. Betrayed by my own founding members.
12:38 AM
🥟: Oppa I’ll start hiding your pencils if you don’t sleep tonight 🙃
12:41 AM
🐷🐰: Plot twist: “He’s five minutes away from designing an apartment with no doors and calling it ‘open concept.’”
12:44 AM
🐺: Don’t tempt me. I’ve submitted worse.
12:47 AM
🐰: He once labelled a structural beam as “aesthetics.” I remember.
12:50 AM
🐷🐰: Iconic.
12:53 AM
🥟: This chat is my favorite stress relief 😭
12:56 AM
🐺: Said the girl who threatened my pencil supply.
12:59 AM
🥟: consider it ✨tough love✨ for artists who don't sleep 😌
1:02 AM
🐷🐰: Yeah. Dream of Hyune and architecture, king 🫡
1:05 AM
🐰: Sleep, you wolf.
1:08 AM
🐺: Good night, my loves… don’t let the client feedback bite 🫠💔
1:47 AM
Their banter kept things afloat—brief, bright moments in the long, tiring days.
Finally, after weeks of missed opportunities, Hyune and Chan managed to plan their first real date.
They met at a quiet café near the Han River, tucked between a florist and a bookshop. The windows spilled warm afternoon light across their table, casting golden patterns on the worn wood. Soft jazz filled the space, the notes curling lazily around the scent of fresh coffee and faint jasmine from the florist next door.
It was simple—just coffee, a stroll along the riverside path—but it was everything Hyune hoped for.
Chan looked effortlessly handsome in a clean white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. She wore a soft lavender dress, and he kept smiling at her like she was something out of a painting.
Their hands brushed often. Sometimes they held them. Their conversation flowed easily, until—
Chan took out his phone and pointed the camera at her.
“Don’t,” she laughed, covering her face. “I look like a sleep-deprived raccoon today.”
“No,” Chan said, snapping the picture anyway. “You look exactly like a ferret.”
She blinked. “A… ferret?”
He chuckled. “You really do. It’s the eyes. The way they get all wide when you’re trying not to laugh.”
She smiled, cheeks tinged pink. “I don’t know whether you like me or the ferret more with the amount of times it comes up.”
The moment stilled.
But inside, Chan’s mind raced. His smile faded slowly, and the spark in his eyes dimmed. He looked away for a second.
Hyune tilted her head. “Oppa?”
He cleared his throat and tried to force a smile. “Sorry. I just remembered something my dad asked me to take care of today.”
Her smile faltered, but she nodded.
He stood up, brushing invisible lint from his shirt like he needed something to do with his hands. “I’ll drop you home. Come on.”
The walk back was quiet. The soft rustle of leaves was the only sound between them. The city lights flickered on one by one, reflecting off the river’s dark surface.
Chan didn’t take her hand again. He didn’t meet her eyes. He just kept muttering, “Sorry… we’ll do this again. Properly.”
At her front door, he said goodbye quickly and left without looking back.
Hyune stood frozen for a moment, the cold air biting through her light dress as she watched him disappear into the night. Her heart pounded in her chest, a swirling mix of confusion and hurt tightening in her throat.
Then slowly went to her room. She sat on her bed, staring at the wall for a long time. Then the tears came. Fast. Hot. Confused.
'Did I say something wrong?' she thought desperately, replaying every word, every glance.
She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill, but they came anyway.
Notes:
Thank you for reading! 💜
Things are starting to get a little complicated, huh? What did you think of their date? Do you think it’s just a misunderstanding, or is something else going on? 🤔
Let me know your thoughts!
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