𓇼 𝘈𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘻 𝘍𝘪𝘤 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘌𝘱.𝘛𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦

some secrets you say? 👀

| 𝒮𝑒𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 | Chapter Three

Ot8!Mafia!Ateez x Female!Reader

Summary: After losing everything through gambling, your father's debts to the Ateez Mafia have resulted in you becoming their property. With no other family left, you are now at the mercy of these dangerous criminals due to your father's reckless actions.

Warnings: None (If I forgot any, don’t be afraid to tell me!)

Amazing Tags: @n0v4t33z @potatomountain for the inspiration

WC: 2k

Nets: @othersideoutlawsnetwork

Tags: @xomakara @jedi-dreea @beabatiny @ateezaddict24 @spenceatiny18 @18fernanda @prodsh00ky @evercodeee @yizhou-time @smally97 @eshia-16 @daniela-f-uwu u @peachyy-joonie @butterfliesinthenightsky @dassmyname @unlikelysublimekryptonite @dollinno @stay-tiny-things @joongscheese @misskarynie @monstacheol @yeosangcutie0615 @mariaa @pinuspot @amphiroxx @kitten4sannie (MOTIVATION THANK YOU) tags to be continued.

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NO LONGER DOING TAGS AFTER THIS CHAPTER, follow if you want to be notified.

Days had passed since Y/N was captured. Each day felt like a year being passed, it was agonizing. She wasn’t allowed to leave her room since she tried to escape her first day. She had visitors, mainly Hongjoong. Who she’s come to slowly trust but was still afraid of him.

Hongjoong was a nice man, genuinely. His exterior was soft and he behaved tough with his members but he took care of Y/N so well. He’d brush her hair, calm her down if she had a breakdown.

Just as he was doing now.

“Sh, sh, beautiful. Don’t waste those tears on that beautiful face of yours.” Hongjoong’s fingers were quick to wipe away her tears, “I know you don’t want to be here but it has to be this way. We don’t play about our money. Or being backstabbed.”

Y/N looked at him with tear stained eyes, “I know..I’m just, I’m just scared, Mr Hongjoong. Your people scare me.”

He let out a small chortle, “Oh, beautiful.” A small tut left his mouth, “My men are ruthless, I trained them to be that way but I did however, tell them to treat you gently. Cannot allow our only leverage to be damaged.” No one would believe the amount of times their leverage was killed and they never got their revenge. Or money.

That was Wooyoung's fault last time. He was of course punished accordingly in more ways than one (he liked his punishment so it was useless in the end.)

The tired girl nodded as she let Hongjoong pull her close, his embrace was warm and inviting.

“Come now, let’s get you some food.”

Y/N allowed him to gently walk her down the hallway and down a lavish staircase. It led into what she assumed was the grand entrance, but it was heavily guarded and maids were fluttering around, cleaning every corner.

“Kitchen is this way. However I’d advise you not to touch anything until I tell you so. Wooyoung is particular about his kitchen.” Hongjoong pressed his hand against her lower back as he ushered her into the said room.

“Hongjoong is that you?” A voice called out followed by clattering dishes.

“Yeah it’s me, come here, Woo. Want you to meet someone.” With those words, Wooyoung set down his dish and turned around.

A beautiful man was revealed. Was everyone in this house so strikingly handsome? Wooyoung grinned at the newcomer, thoughts already plaguing his mind, “Mm, is this the pretty girl I’ve heard so much about?”

Y/N looked away, all flustered, not used to such compliments or this many at all.

“Wooyoung. Don’t. But yes, this is the shitheads daughter. She’s our leverage till he comes out of hiding.” Hongjoong’s voice only had a moment of authority, shortly returning to a softer tone.

“Oh, okay, well. Can we keep her?” Wooyoung grinned and stepped closer, quickly pushing his leader's buttons.

Y/N stepped behind Hongjoong to avoid the gaze of the man. She wasn’t afraid but his grin was quite compelling, as if to lead her into seduction. It was definitely working. His long hair was stunning and his nose, so damn majestic.

Hongjoong could hear her every thought and he couldn’t help but shake his head, “I swear, between the two of you- you know what, never mind. Anyway, Wooyoung. I have a job for you.”

Wooyoung immediately turned serious, “Yes, sir?”

“I need you to find out more about her father. We need to pinpoint secret hiding locations. Places he’d think we’d never check. If you can, take Y/N to the city and have her show you places. But don’t let her out of your eyesight,” Hongjoong then stepped forward and grabbed Wooyoung’s shoulder, “and don’t do anything stupid. Don’t even try to flirt your way into her pants.”

“Fine, captain.”

“Good, now get ready to go. I have an arms dealer to meet with.” Hongjoong quickly left Y/N to Wooyoung’s devices.

Oh boy, this was gonna be a train wreck.

—

“Ah, ah, slow down little Princess. I was told to keep an eye on you.” Wooyoung scoffed as he tried to chase after the girl. She wasn’t trying to escape, no, she was trying to find her father so she didn’t have to go back.

As she swung the corner to a deli, eagerly looking inside for her father. He was nowhere to be seen. Of course he wasn’t.

He always did this. He ran from his problems and even now, he abandoned his own daughter. Y/N felt lost, betrayed, heartbroken even.

Wooyoung finally caught up to her, “What are you- oh. He’s not here is he?” Wooyoung could feel her disappointment and sheer sadness. He almost felt bad but then again, you don’t fuck with ateez, “Hey, listen. This just means you get to hang out some more with me.” He tried to lighten up her mood but it only made it worse and she broke down.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Wooyoung panicked and lifted her off the ground, “Shit, I’m so sorry, please do not cry.”

Y/N shoved him away but that only angered him. He was trying to be nice and help her.

“Fine, be that way but you’re still going back to the manor.” Wooyoung let her arm go and called Hongjoong, “She’s done being outside for the day, we are coming back, sir.”

Y/N protested as she was flipped onto the man’s shoulder, “Let me go!” Bystanders watched but did nothing.

They knew better not to interfere.

Y/N sobbed in defeat as she pounded onto his back, trying her damndest to get away.

Wooyoung did feel only just tad bad about treating her this way but they need her to find her father. Sure, they could just let it go but then it would set an example for others that they could get away with betraying the group. Wooyoung knew Hongjoong’s ego wouldn’t let that fly. Ever.

“Y/N, please stop flailing around. I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice was soft spoken, showing he meant his words. Wooyoung truly didn’t want to hurt her.

Wait.

He had an idea. Maybe ice cream would cheer her up.

What an idiot, he really thought that was gonna solve these issues? He truly forgot what humans were like.

“If you stop smacking my back, I will take you somewhere for a bit and we won’t have to go back to the manor right away.” That seemed to calm Y/N down, only for her to question him.

“What..do you mean?” Her arms came at a rest on his back as she turned to look at the back of his head. Only for him to set the girl down.

“Ateez owns a few regular businesses, so I’m gonna take you to one, maybe get you some ice cream. How does that sound?” Wooyoung tried to console her, reaching to wipe away stray tears. His polished nails caught her eye. Another beautiful trait of his.

“Okay.. that actually sounds good.” Y/N did truly miss her everyday things, maybe ice cream could numb the pain for a moment.

She hoped so.

—

The parlor was near empty, not many patrons but the ones that were there kind of spooked her.

The parlor was bright in color on the inside, just a few tables and one employee around. That person even scared her. They were covered in tattoos from the neck down as far as she could tell. Why would anyone get ice cream here? Why would a mafia own an ice cream shop to begin with?

“Hello, Mr. Jung, it’s good to see you.” The employee behind the counter smiled, immediately greeting Wooyoung, “Are you getting your usual today?” They were quick to start scooping a green ice cream, presumably either mint or pistachio.

“No, actually I’m here to get something for Miss Y/N, think you can whip up some fresh ice cream?” Wooyoung walked the girl to the counter, her head hung low however.

“Yes sir, I can do that. What would you like, Miss?”

Y/N looked up, all shy like, “Um, can I have neopolitan?” She wasn’t sure what flavor she wanted so she went for something basic.

Once the ice cream was handed to her, Wooyoung brought her over to a corner to relax, “So, Y/N, why don’t you tell me about yourself. I can answer some questions if you’d like as well.”

Y/N picked at the melting cream, “Uh, yeah sure. What did you want to know?”

“Well, can you tell me how your father got you into this mess? Why he ran from us?” Wooyoung became serious, yet was still calm.

“I mean, my mom died a few years ago and we received her life insurance money after that. It was about two hundred thousand dollars I think.” Y/N picked at her ice cream some more before pushing it away, “I never got to see it. My dad I guess, in his grief began gambling. A weird way to cope in my opinion. But, he eventually gambled away their shared savings and her life insurance money. He’s evaded loan sharks and debt collectors for a while. I don’t know how he still has the house, it’s in poor condition anyway.”

Wooyoung continued to listen intently, taking notes.

“He eventually started stealing my savings and such, my rent money also. I have my own place and my own car but he’s still taken things from me.” She hated her father and every ounce of his being, yet she still cared, “That day you guys kidnapped me, was the day he took the last of my money I had. Then he disappeared I guess.”

“I see..” Wooyoung hummed in response, “Well, I’m sorry to say, you’re stuck with us until we find him. But don’t worry, you won’t be stuck in a cell. Well, unless you piss off Hongjoong.” Even though he tried to make her laugh, it didn’t work anyway.

“So what do you want to know about me?”

Y/N shrugged, “I’m not sure I really want to know anything. I don’t want to know things I shouldn’t and potentially be killed.”

Wooyoung laughed before he spoke, “Y/N. I’m not going to kill you. But if you have no questions then. That’s fine. Are you done with your ice cream?”

“Yeah, I am.” Even though she had barely touched it, it had already melted.

“I suppose we can head back then.”

—

“Head up to your room. I need to speak with Hongjoong.” Wooyoung ushered her away and made his way to his leader's office.

Three knocks to the wood and he walked in, “Hello captain. I’m sorry to say that we couldn’t find him in the places that we looked. However I got some more information on him.”

“Go on, Wooyoung. I don’t have all day.”

“Sorry sir. I have learned that Y/N’s father has evaded many loan sharks. Just like he has evaded us. It has me wondering if he has someone helping him. And we may need to look into it honestly.” Wooyoung didn’t like the look that appeared on Hongjoong’s face. It reminded him of something that happened in the past. Something he wasn’t ready to remember.

“He what?” A fire burned in his eyes that went deep. His fists clenched as he went to pinch the bridge of his nose, “Fine. He wants to be a coward and run from us. Little does he know he just fucked with a God.”

Wooyoung began to grin as he realized his old captain was coming back, “What are you planning for us, sir?”

“You know damn well what I have planned. Grab Yunho, I’m gonna need him to prepare a few things, notify Seonghwa as well. I’m gonna need him too. It’s time this fucker pays for abandoning a beauty and fucking with me.”

Y/N’s father had no idea just who he screwed over.

ANOTHER UPDATE! COME ON WE’RE BACK!!!

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤTHE CITY OF LOVE

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎ Chapter Eleven: You Wonder why I’m Bitter

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ < previous | next >

masterpost

៚ wc: 8.2k (total: ???)

៚ fluff, angst, fashion designer!hongjoong x model!reader (ft. personal assistant!seonghwa & photographer!wooyoung), slowburn, strangers to lovers, soulmates au if you squint, do french people actually say bonjour irl?

៚ playlist !

៚ Alone and aching for the connection that once felt so natural, you reluctantly turn to an unlikely companion: Pompidou, who listens to you pour out all the longing you’ve fought so hard to bury. While you grapple with the emptiness left by Hongjoong’s sudden withdrawal, he, too, finds himself lost, wrestling with the very feelings he’s tried to deny. Haunted by memories and choices he can’t quite reconcile, Hongjoong is caught between the familiarity of the past and the confusing reality of the present.

a/n: was supposed to upload this on the 27th cause that’s my birthday but i just can’t wait any longer 😅 keep an eye out for the littlest of details because nothing is as it seems in this chapter :P lmk what you guys think!

tags: @beabatiny @babymbbatinygirl

First of all, I hate myself. Second of all, I hate myself. Oh, and did I already mention that I hate myself? I just don’t know what to do anymore! It feels like it’s been a whole decade ever since I last picked up a pen to scribble on this godforsaken journal… I wish I could just go back to the time I was writing the page behind the one I’m writing on right now and just cancel my flight to Paris. This is all so frustrating, you know? Fashion Week is nearing, and I am not prepared at all—no, not even a little. I’m supposed to be spending my hours inside the studio practicing runway walks and testing out facial expressions, but no! I’m way too afraid of crossing paths with Hongjoong to even think about the consequences of not taking my preparations seriously! And speaking of Hongjoong…

He’s driving me to the edge of my sanity. I don’t know what’s going on with him—okay, scratch that, I definitely do. I just don’t get why he’s acting so avoidant all of a sudden… I mean, like, okay, I would understand his unprovoked need for distance between us if we actually kissed that night, but we didn’t. The farthest step we were able to take was just him holding onto the sides of my face and me looking at his lips like I’m a starved dog looking at its first meal of the day before Wooyoung fortunately interrupted us—so why is he acting up?

He’s like one of those girls you’d befriend in highschool who’d show up on the hallways suddenly judging your entire soul on a random Wednesday, and I don’t like it. Seriously, what’s his problem? He made me accustomed to his usual sweet and caring persona, and all of a sudden, he wants to act like this? What have I done wrong? Wasn’t it literally him who initiated the… whatever I’m supposed to call what happened that night?

I’m just concerned, you know. It’s been two weeks, and yet he’s still avoiding me like I’m the plague. I haven’t been receiving any messages from him at all lately, either. Even Madame Dupont is asking me why she no longer sees the “small young handsome boy” waiting for me outside the apartment building while leaning against his car. Wooyoung’s been trying to persuade me into confirming his theory that Hongjoong and I are going through a lovers’ quarrel for three days now, too. And guess who’s the most troubled of them all? Seonghwa. He’s been doing his best to put us back into speaking terms for a while now, and I don’t know why—I swear I didn’t ask him to do that.

Everyone is worried. Everyone but him.

You know, this brings me back to that unrecognizable faceless guy I see in some of my blurry flashbacks. I remember him asking me how long I’ve been bottling up my emotions, and when I told him I’ve been doing so for pretty much my entire life, he told me to consider writing in a journal.

What does the unrecognizable dude have to do with Hongjoong and his unreadable behavior? Nothing.

I just noticed that it’s been a while since I last wrote a journal entry, and… it’s been a while since I last let my emotions unravel. I remember the words that came out of his mouth that day.

“When you can’t figure out what you’re feeling, or if you need to let it all out, the only thing you have to do is pull this out along with a pen, and from then on, you can start writing away. Let yourself get lost in your own world.”

You know what, in a way, I think he and Hongjoong actually have something in common. I know I can’t say much because I only have one memory of this guy, but he spoke with as much wisdom as Hongjoong does. Also… “let yourself get lost in your own world.” That’s honestly the most Hongjoong-ish advice someone could ever give, given how he himself gets lost in his own world of artistry, too.

I just wish he’d stop ignoring me. I can’t help but feel like this is all somehow my fault… Am I just hurting myself by expecting things to suddenly go back to the way they used to be?

As you closed your journal with a weary sigh, your eyes drifted to the dim glow of your bedside clock reading 2:37 a.m. The room was silent, save for the soft hum of distant traffic, yet you felt far from at peace. It was a night for sleep, yet your mind wouldn’t quiet; thoughts of Hongjoong twisted and turned within you, refusing to settle.

“Why does it feel like this?” you murmured, pressing your palms into your face, as if that could somehow soothe the ache in your chest. You longed for comfort, for answers, even for a brief respite from the confusion that had become your constant companion. “If only that faceless guy could telepathically whisper some words of wisdom to me right now…”

Two weeks had passed since you last shared any words with Hongjoong—two weeks where every glance, every passing moment, felt laced with an unspoken tension that only deepened the rift between you. It was all becoming painfully real, the shift so clear to everyone around you. But no one knew the truth—the moment you almost kissed, the silent proximity that had left you dizzy and wondering. Even Seonghwa, in his genuine concern, couldn’t know the pang of vulnerability that had filled that night, the fear and excitement mingling as you’d come closer than ever before.

Your mind flashed back to the other day when the ache of his absence had been sharpest. You passed by him in a hallway, hoping for a flicker of his usual warmth, his soft gaze that once reassured you of your place in his world. But he’d brushed past with such indifference—not even nodding to acknowledge your presence, a chill in his demeanor that left you hollow. And then he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the corridor, leaving you alone with a rising sense of loss.

Without thinking, you picked up your phone and opened your gallery. Photos of Hongjoong filled your screen, and your eyes drift over candid snapshots—some of you and Hongjoong working late in the studio, others of him laughing or looking thoughtful, moments caught by your camera that now feel like glimpses into another lifetime. There’s a picture of him outside your apartment building, waving you goodbye one evening. Another shot of him hunched over his desk in concentration, unaware that you’d snapped the photo from across the room. Then, there’s a particularly precious one of the two of you, taken in his office—which was likely Wooyoung’s doing.

As you scroll, an ache blossoms within you, spreading in slow, insistent waves that make your chest feel tight. You can feel the sting of tears welling up in your eyes, and it catches you off guard. Why now? Why does he, of all people, have this power over you? You swipe at the tears, frustrated by the sudden swell of emotion. It’s not supposed to be like this, you tell yourself. Hongjoong is supposed to be your friend, your mentor, the one person in Paris who helped you find your footing when everything felt foreign. But as the images blur beneath the glisten of unshed tears, you can’t help but wonder if that’s all he’ll ever be—someone whose warmth once felt like home, and whose absence now feels like a loss you’re not ready to face.

The soft scratching at your window pulls you abruptly from your thoughts. For a moment, you freeze, glancing back at the phone you’d just placed on your desk. Carefully, you grab your journal—a flimsy defense, maybe, but it’s better than nothing. Heart pounding just slightly, you step forward, inching closer to the window.

When you peek over, you’re met with a familiar sight: Pompidou, the resident stray cat who had made the apartment building his kingdom, sits with one paw pressed to the glass, his usual unamused expression aimed your way.

You exhale a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, feeling the tension drain from your shoulders as you let out a soft laugh. Setting your journal on the bed, you reach over to open the window, letting him slip inside with practiced ease. He slinks past you with the air of someone who owns the place and makes himself right at home, hopping onto your bed and circling until he’s claimed his spot in the center.

You sit beside him, running a gentle hand over his soft fur. It’s strange how much you missed him. For the past few weeks, your room felt emptier without his occasional visits—without that extra little creature who just… understood you, in a way. And now, with Hongjoong’s absence haunting you, Pompidou couldn’t have come at a better time.

The thought hits you harder than you expect: here you are, at your lowest, relying on a cat for comfort simply because the one person you’re used to confiding in has become distant, almost like a stranger. The ache in your chest intensifies, and before you know it, you’re lying down next to him, resting your head on the bed and gazing at his calm, indifferent eyes. It feels silly, pathetic even, to be speaking your heart to a cat, but in this silence, with no one else to turn to, you let yourself unravel.

“Pompidou,” you whisper, voice barely holding steady, “I… I don’t know what I did wrong. Everything was fine, wasn’t it?” Your fingers tremble as they thread through his fur, a warmth grounding you in the midst of your unraveling. “I don’t know how we ended up here. He’s always been there for me, and now… it’s like he’s vanished. And I’m trying, I really am, but every time I reach out, it’s like he’s miles away.”

A sharp breath catches in your throat, and you look up at the ceiling, fighting against the tears stinging your eyes. “It’s probably all my fault,” you confess in a whisper that breaks. “Maybe I was too much, or maybe I should have… I don’t know, said something differently, done something better. Maybe I shouldn’t have invited him to eat dinner that night so that…” A bitter chuckle slips out as you squeeze your eyes shut. “It’s funny, you know. All my life, I’ve been terrified of being alone, of people walking out… and now here I am, trying to be okay with him pulling away like it’s nothing.”

Pompidou shifts slightly, his warm body pressing into your side, a small reminder that he’s there, and he’s not leaving. You let your hand drop to your chest, feeling the dull ache that’s settled there. “I just miss him, Pompidou. I miss the way he used to look at me like I mattered. Now, he can’t even look me in the eyes. And I don’t know why I’m clinging to that, why I’m hoping he’ll suddenly turn around and go back to being who he was.”

The silence swallows you for a moment. “Maybe it’s because, deep down, I’m still the same pathetic teenager from Arcadia Bay who’s scared that she doesn’t deserve anything better. That she’s always going to be left behind, and this… this is just proof.” Your voice falters, words thick with pain you can no longer hold back. “And if he leaves, then maybe it’s what I deserve.”

“Maybe I was the one who left him in an alternate reality, and this is the price I have to pay for it,” you joke, but it only feels like a pathetic attempt to make yourself feel better.

The pain is so sharp it almost feels physical, a hollow ache that makes every breath feel heavier than the last. You close your eyes, fighting against the helplessness clawing at your insides, but the words keep pouring out, jagged and raw, as though voicing them might lessen the weight—even if it’s only to a cat who can’t respond.

“Do you know what’s worse?” you whisper, fingers clutching the fabric of your shirt over your chest as if you could hold yourself together by sheer will. “It’s that I can’t even be mad at him. I want to be—believe me, I’ve tried. I tell myself he’s the one pulling away, that he’s the one who’s changed, but then I start wondering… what if I pushed him to this? What if I’m the reason he’s slipping through my fingers?”

A soft tremor runs through your hands, and you curl them into fists, teeth gritted as you force the tears back. “I keep thinking… maybe he’s right to distance himself. Maybe there’s something broken in me, something that just drives people away. And the worst part is, I keep wishing he’d come back, like I’d somehow be enough if I could just—”

Your voice catches, breaking into a whisper as you bury your face in your hands, barely holding in the sob that threatens to spill out. “I just don’t understand. He was my safe place, Pompidou. For the first time in so long, I actually felt like I mattered. He made me feel seen. And now… now I feel invisible all over again, like everything we shared was just temporary, like it didn’t mean anything.”

Pompidou shifts closer, his soft purr rumbling beneath your fingertips as you stroke his fur, a small solace in the middle of this storm.

“I try to convince myself that I’m fine, that I can go on without him,” you continue, voice cracking as the words spill out unchecked. “But the truth is, I’m terrified. I’m scared that if he leaves… if he’s really gone, I’ll be alone again, just like before. And I hate myself for feeling this way, for being so… so weak.”

The tears finally break free, slipping down your cheeks in a silent flood. “What does that say about me? That I’m so dependent on him, that I can’t even imagine my life without him? I thought I was stronger than this, that I’d learned how to stand on my own. But now… now it’s like I’m right back to that scared, lonely kid I used to be, clinging to anyone who shows me a hint of kindness.”

You pull your knees to your chest, holding yourself as tightly as you can, as if you could somehow shield yourself from the emptiness swallowing you whole. “I can’t stop thinking that maybe this is all I deserve. That maybe I’m meant to be alone. Maybe he’s finally seeing me for who I am, and he’s realizing I’m not worth it.”

Your shoulders shake as the sobs escape, quiet and raw, each one cutting through you like glass. Pompidou curls closer, his little face pressing against your arm, as though he understands in his own way. But his silent comfort only deepens the ache, a reminder that the person you need more than anything isn’t here, and you’re left holding yourself together with nothing but frayed threads of hope.

With a shuddering breath, you finally admit the fear you’ve been trying so hard to ignore. “What if he doesn’t come back, Pompidou? What if this is it? I don’t think… I don’t think I can handle losing him. Not like this.”

Your voice drops to a whisper, the words coming slow and soft as you gaze out the window, eyes unfocused. “I just… I miss him, Pompidou,” you murmur, fingers absently tracing patterns against the sheets.

“I miss all the little things that made it feel like he was a part of me, like he was woven into my days without me even realizing it. I miss the way he’d send me random sketches, the ones that made no sense but made me laugh anyway, like he was letting me in on his little worlds. I miss… I miss how he’d always have this ridiculous drink order for me every time we’d meet up at the café where we switched up our notebooks with one another before we met for the first time. It’s like he knew exactly what I’d need, even if I didn’t.”

The memories wash over you, and you can’t stop the warmth from pooling in your chest as you picture those moments. “I wish we could go back to that time when things were… simple. When I could sit beside him without feeling like the whole world was shifting under my feet. When he’d laugh and look at me like I was… like I was something special, you know?”

Your voice trembles, and you tighten your grip on the sheets. “And the thing is… it was just easy with him. He’d be there, always making me feel like nothing could go wrong as long as we were together. He’d be there with his quiet, comforting presence, and I could just… be. I didn’t have to pretend or put on some mask. It was like he could see right through me, and somehow, he didn’t care about all the mess he found.”

You take a deep breath, the words spilling out like a plea. “I just want to go back, Pompidou. Back to before everything felt so fragile, before that almost-kiss, before this… this distance. I wish I could reach out and take it all back. I’d give anything just to have things feel normal again.”

Pompidou tilts his head, eyes blinking up at you, and you can’t help but laugh, a soft, broken sound that catches in your throat. “I know it sounds silly, doesn’t it? I mean, how could I expect anything to be the same after that? But I can’t help it, Pompidou. I want to go back to when he’d smile at me like that, when I didn’t have to wonder if I was the one pushing him away.”

You close your eyes, feeling the weight of each memory anchor you down. “I miss his laugh. I miss his stupid jokes. I miss the way he’d lean closer when he talked about his dreams, his voice getting all serious like he could see every detail in his mind. And I miss… I miss feeling like I belonged somewhere, like I belonged with him. I miss how he’d look at me with this warmth, like I was enough, just as I was.”

The words come out like a broken whisper, a confession you’ve been holding inside for far too long. “I can’t stop missing him. I wish… I wish I could go back to that last night before everything shifted. Before the night we nearly kissed, before I even realized what I felt. I wish I could’ve just stayed there, in that moment, without letting any of it change.”

You hug your knees, curling up as the ache settles deeper, heavier. “But I can’t. And now it’s as if I’m left with pieces of him in everything around me, and I don’t know how to put myself back together without him.”

You pull yourself up, exhaling slowly, and walk over to your desk. The room feels quiet, still heavy with everything you’ve let out, yet somehow emptier too, as if releasing the words has left you hollow. With a shaky hand, you pick up your phone and make your way back to bed, curling up beside Pompidou, who has already claimed his spot against your pillow. Settling into the blankets, you scroll through your contacts, your thumb hovering over Hongjoong’s icon.

It’s just his initials next to a simple photo he once sent—a candid moment he probably forgot about, something so ordinary that it’s precious now. The way he looked when he didn’t realize anyone was watching: a slight smile, eyes softened by something he found funny, maybe even a bit endearing. The sight makes your chest tighten, and you let yourself scroll up, reading through old conversations like leafing through the pages of a treasured book.

Each message brings back flashes of shared laughter and late-night ramblings, little moments where time seemed to pause, and it was just the two of you—untouchable, safe. You linger on a message he sent on a rainy afternoon, a random joke he thought would cheer you up. Your lips curl into a faint smile, but it’s bittersweet. There was a time when it was so easy, so effortless, like breathing. He had a way of knowing exactly when you needed a reminder that he was there. But now, that comfort feels distant, unreachable.

A tear slips down your cheek again before you realize it, and you hastily swipe it away, but the sorrow wells up again, slipping past your guard. As if sensing your pain, Pompidou extends a soft paw, resting it gently below your eyes, and you feel his fur against your cheek, grounding you in a way that words can’t. His small gesture tugs a quiet, breathy laugh from you, despite the ache in your chest. It’s as if he’s trying to catch your sadness, pulling it away piece by piece, his wide eyes fixed on yours with an empathy you can almost feel.

You let your head fall, hugging Pompidou close, allowing yourself to finally surrender to the pain and let it wash over you without restraint. The loneliness, the longing, the hollow spaces Hongjoong’s absence has left in you—all of it spills out as you clutch the feline tightly, letting his warmth and steady breathing lull you into a fragile sense of comfort. The room seems to blur, softening around you as the weight of everything you’ve been holding back presses into you.

The tears come faster now, unstoppable, and your quiet sobs fill the silence, raw and unfiltered. It’s just you and Pompidou, and for a moment, it feels like you’re not truly alone. There, in the quiet solace of your room, you cling to that small comfort, letting yourself feel every ounce of longing, letting yourself miss him—fully, desperately, hopelessly.

—

Meanwhile, Hongjoong stood in his office, the warm, nostalgic tones of “La Vie en Rose” playing softly from the record player behind him. His gaze fixed on the window, hands clasped tightly behind his back, and he fought to keep his emotions in check. Each note lingered in the air, pulling him deeper into the web of memories he was desperately trying to forget. This song, of all songs—he could still remember how it had been playing when the two of you had stood together in the flower shop, laughing over bouquets and trading light-hearted jokes as if the world beyond didn’t exist.

Part of him knew he could walk over and turn it off. The music was his to control, after all. And yet… he couldn’t bring himself to stop it. The melody was the last fragile thread that kept him tethered to you, a reminder of the warmth he felt in your presence, the comfort of knowing someone understood him.

The dim light from the city outside cast a soft glow over his office, illuminating the expanse of papers scattered across his desk, the outlines of unfinished sketches and hastily scrawled notes, all reminders of the whirlwind he’d buried himself in since he started pushing you away. Each corner of the room felt saturated with memories of you—and it was strange how a space that had once felt so alive now seemed hollow, absent of the warmth you’d brought into it.

He tried to focus on the skyline again, his eyes tracing the glittering lights of the city. It was an attempt to ground himself, to pull himself back from the turmoil inside him. But tonight, every bit of stillness he attempted felt false, every piece of composure barely hanging by a thread. All he could think about was you—the absence of your presence filling every empty space in his mind, as if refusing to be silenced.

He turned slowly from the window, allowing his gaze to wander over his desk. It was almost impossible to remember the last time he’d felt fully at ease in this room. The stacks of designs that had once held so much promise now felt like hollow accomplishments, each one only reminding him of the fire you’d helped him ignite. His eyes landed on a small pendant lying amidst the clutter. The flower encased inside had faded slightly, its once-vibrant petals softened by time. He picked it up, cradling it carefully in his hand, feeling a strange tenderness rise within him.

You’d given him that flower, pressing it into his hand with a shy smile as you murmured something about it bringing him luck. He could still recall the way your fingers had lingered against his, the brief but electric touch that had left him wondering if you felt it too. “For good luck,” you’d said, your eyes sparkling in that way they always did when you felt especially close to him.

Hongjoong swallowed, feeling a tightness in his chest as he held the pendant closer. How was it that something so small could carry the weight of so many memories? He closed his eyes, and the warmth of your smile flashed in his mind, as vivid as if you were standing beside him. But now, as he held the pendant, it felt heavier, like a tiny piece of the past he was terrified of losing forever.

In his mind, he slipped back to that night—the one that had started as an ordinary work session, yet had unraveled into something far more vulnerable. He could still feel the closeness of the room, the soft glow of the lamps casting long shadows as you both worked side by side, immersed in the quiet moment you shared.

You’d shared things that night that were never meant to leave the room. He could still hear your voice, low and hesitant, as you revealed the fears you held closest to your heart. “Being left alone,” you’d admitted, your words raw and unguarded. The truth of it had lingered between you, a quiet vulnerability that had shaken him more than he cared to admit.

When you turned the question back on him, he’d hesitated, feeling the weight of his own guarded secrets pressing against his chest. But in that quiet space, under the gentle glow of the lamp, he’d found himself opening up in ways he hadn’t allowed himself to in years. “Losing myself,” he’d whispered, his voice barely audible, but enough for you to hear. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Now, standing alone in his empty office, Hongjoong felt the irony of it all washing over him. He’d tried so hard to protect himself, to build walls so high that even you couldn’t reach them. But now, it felt as if he had developed a new fear bigger than losing himself—losing you.

A quiet knock on the door broke his reverie, and he tensed, slipping the pendant into his pocket as he turned. Wooyoung’s face appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable as he took in the sight of Hongjoong standing alone, the haunting strains of La Vie en Rose still spinning softly from the record player across the room.

Wooyoung’s eyes flickered to the player, where the melody had been looping for what must have been the better part of an hour. “Still here?” he asked quietly, a hint of concern threading his tone.

Hongjoong forced a slight smile, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Wooyoung stepped further into the room, his gaze sharp as it settled on Hongjoong. “You know…” Wooyoung began, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall, “the world can see how miserable you are. Including her—especially her.”

Hongjoong stiffened, the forced nonchalance slipping from his face as he turned away, staring intently at the record player as if it held all the answers he was struggling to find. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, the words feeling hollow even to his own ears.

“Hongjoong,” Wooyoung’s tone softened, a hint of exasperation breaking through. “I know you. I know how much you care about her. And I know you’re running from something you can’t outrun. But you’re not fooling anyone by pretending it doesn’t matter.”

Hongjoong’s jaw tightened, his mind racing with all the reasons he’d built to keep you at a distance. Each one felt logical, safe, a way to protect himself from something he couldn’t quite name. But here, with Wooyoung standing there, watching him with that steady gaze, he felt every layer he’d built start to unravel.

“I’m not pretending,” he said quietly, barely audible above the music.

Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed, his tone turning softer, almost pleading. “Then what are you doing, Hongjoong? Because from where I’m standing, all I see is someone too scared to reach for what he really wants.”

Hongjoong’s heart twisted painfully, Wooyoung’s words hitting far too close to home. He felt the weight of everything he’d tried to suppress rising within him, a tidal wave of emotions he’d buried so deeply he’d convinced himself they were gone. But Wooyoung’s words had brought them to the surface, and now, there was no escaping them.

A silence stretched between them, and Hongjoong’s gaze fell to the floor. In that moment, he felt utterly vulnerable, as though Wooyoung could see right through him, could see the aching desire he’d tried so hard to deny. He didn’t have to say it—Wooyoung already knew.

Hongjoong’s fingers were still curled around the pendant in his pocket when Wooyoung let out a quiet sigh, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall. “So,” Wooyoung began, breaking the silence, “are you really going to stand here, pretending everything’s fine?”

Hongjoong’s jaw clenched, his shoulders tensing. He wanted to brush off Wooyoung’s words, to deflect with some casual response that would keep the carefully built walls intact. But his mind was a battlefield, each memory of you cutting through his defenses like a blade.

“Everything is fine,” he replied tersely. He didn’t meet Wooyoung’s eyes, focusing instead on a spot just beyond his shoulder.

Wooyoung’s brows knitted together, clearly unconvinced. “Right. That’s why you’ve been playing her favorite song on loop for the last hour. That’s why you’ve been holed up in here, avoiding anything that reminds you of her.” He shook his head, his tone equal parts exasperation and worry. “Hongjoong, you’re not fooling me. I know you, and I know you’re running from something—from someone.”

Hongjoong let out a low, frustrated sigh, finally looking up at Wooyoung. “Wooyoung, just drop it, alright?” He forced a tense smile, attempting to sound dismissive. “This… whatever you think is going on, it’s all in your head. We were just friends.”

But Wooyoung didn’t budge. “Friends?” He let out a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it, just the weight of disbelief. “You really want to go with that? Because the way you’re acting… it doesn’t look like you’re just missing a friend. You’re avoiding her like she’s a stranger, but then you’re here, playing her favorite song over and over, clutching onto that pendant like it’s the last piece of her you have.”

Hongjoong’s fingers instinctively tightened around the pendant, and he felt a pang of frustration rise within him. He didn’t want to admit that Wooyoung’s words struck too close to home. “I told you, it’s nothing like that,” he bit back, his tone sharper than intended. “You’re turning this into something it isn’t.”

Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed, his gaze not faltering. “Am I? Because from where I’m standing, you’re acting like a guy who’s desperately trying to convince himself of something he doesn’t even believe.”

“Wooyoung—”

“Hongjoong, you can’t keep lying to yourself.” Wooyoung’s tone softened, his voice carrying a gentleness that seemed to cut deeper than the words themselves. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, but I do know that you care about her. You’re not fooling anyone by pretending this distance is ‘better’ for either of you.”

Hongjoong’s patience began to fray, his frustration morphing into anger. He shot Wooyoung a glare, his voice rising. “It is better, Wooyoung. She… she deserves better. She doesn’t need to be pulled into whatever mess I am.” He paused, catching his breath, his anger mingling with something closer to desperation. “I’m not what’s best for her. And it’s better for the both of us if I keep my distance.”

Wooyoung’s expression shifted, his gaze hardening as he stepped closer, unwilling to let Hongjoong brush him off. “So, what? You think pushing her away, acting like she means nothing, is somehow good for her? You really think she’s better off without you?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong replied, his tone final, but the conviction in his voice was starting to waver.

Wooyoung gave him a long, scrutinizing look, and for a moment, the silence between them was thick with unspoken truths. Then, Wooyoung shook his head slowly. “You’re lying to yourself. And honestly? It’s pathetic, Hongjoong. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

The words hit Hongjoong like a slap, and a flash of anger surged within him, simmering beneath the surface. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, his voice low and strained. “I’m doing this for her, so just… stop.”

But Wooyoung wouldn’t relent. “You’re not doing this for her. You’re doing this because you’re afraid. Afraid to admit how much she means to you. Afraid of what might happen if you actually let her in. Whatever you’re afraid of, whatever you think is keeping you from being with her… maybe it’s worth rethinking. Because if you keep running like this, you’re going to lose her. And then what?”

Hongjoong felt his control slipping, the carefully constructed barriers he’d built starting to crack under the weight of Wooyoung’s words. He clenched his fists, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to keep his voice steady. “This isn’t about fear.”

“Isn’t it?” Wooyoung’s voice softened, a hint of understanding breaking through the frustration. “Hongjoong… I get it. You’re scared of losing yourself. Of losing control. But she’s not the one who’s going to make that happen. You are, by doing this. By trying so hard to keep her out.”

Hongjoong stayed silent, his chest tightening as Wooyoung’s words began to sink in. He wanted to deny it, to push back with the same conviction he’d clung to for weeks, but he couldn’t. Because deep down, he knew there was truth in Wooyoung’s words.

Finally, Wooyoung let out a sigh, his tone softening even further. “Listen, man. I don’t know what almost happened, or why you’re so determined to stay away from her, but you have to ask yourself… is this really what you want?”

Hongjoong closed his eyes, his mind flashing back to that night in your apartment—the feeling of your hand brushing his, the way your gaze had lingered on him, the unspoken tension that had nearly pulled him into something he couldn’t name. He’d wanted so badly to close that distance, to feel your lips against his, to let go of the fear and doubt that had held him back. But just as he’d leaned closer, Wooyoung’s call had snapped him out of the moment, bringing him crashing back to reality.

“Do you even understand how much she’s hurting, Hongjoong?” And there it was again—the harshness in Wooyoung’s tone. “Seonghwa told me she’s tearing herself apart over this. She doesn’t eat right anymore, and she barely even sleeps. She spends her nights lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering where things went wrong, wondering if she’s the problem.”

The words landed like a punch to Hongjoong’s gut, leaving him breathless. Images of you flashed through his mind—moments when he’d caught glimpses of your smile faltering, your laughter quieting, the spark in your eyes dimming little by little. He’d told himself it was just his imagination, that you were fine. But Wooyoung’s words shattered that illusion entirely.

“She thinks she did something wrong, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung continued, his voice filled with barely contained anger. “She actually believes she’s the reason you’re running. Every time you disappear, every time you pull away, she thinks it’s because of something she did. And the worst part? She doesn’t even blame you. She blames herself.”

Hongjoong’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as guilt clawed at him.

“Seonghwa told me she asked him if she was too much. Can you believe that?” Wooyoung’s voice cracked. “She actually thinks she’s too much for you. That she’s somehow burdening you, dragging you down. She’s convinced herself that if she were just… less, maybe you wouldn’t be running.”

Hongjoong’s breath hitched, a wave of nausea rolling over him as he realized the full extent of the pain he’d caused. You—who had always been so vibrant, so unapologetically yourself—were now questioning every part of who you were, trying to shrink yourself down to avoid scaring him away.

“She’s not even angry at you, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung said, his voice barely above a whisper now, each word a dagger aimed straight at Hongjoong’s heart. “She doesn’t hate you for this. She just… she thinks she’s not enough. Or that she’s too much. Either way, she’s convinced that she’s the problem.”

Hongjoong closed his eyes, his mind reeling. He could feel the anchor of your pain weighing down on him; He’d done this to you—turned you into a shadow of yourself, left you grappling with doubts and insecurities that weren’t yours to bear.

“You’ve been so busy hiding behind your own fears,” Wooyoung continued, “that you haven’t even stopped to consider what this is doing to her. You’re so terrified of being hurt again that you’re hurting her—over and over, every day, with every step you take away from her.”

Hongjoong opened his mouth to speak, to protest, but the words caught in his throat. What could he possibly say to justify this? How could he explain that he’d been running not to hurt you, but to protect himself? It sounded so selfish, so small in the face of everything you were going through.

“And you know what’s really twisted?” Wooyoung’s voice dropped, a bitter edge creeping into his tone. “She’d take you back in a heartbeat. Despite everything, she’d still look at you the same way she did before you started pushing her away. She’d still forgive you, still try to see the good in you, because that’s who she is. That’s how much she cares.”

Hongjoong felt something break inside him, a quiet, shattering realization that left him reeling. You would forgive him. He knew that. He could see it in his mind—the way you’d smile softly, the way your eyes would fill with understanding, even now. Even after everything, you’d welcome him back, arms open, heart exposed, waiting.

“She deserves better, Joong.” Wooyoung’s words were softer now, the anger replaced by a raw, unfiltered honesty. “She deserves someone who doesn’t make her question her worth. Someone who doesn’t make her feel like she’s somehow wrong just for being herself. And if you can’t be that for her… if you’re too wrapped up in your own fears to let her in… then you need to let her go.”

Hongjoong’s chest tightened, a hollow ache spreading through him as he struggled to process it all. He didn’t want to let you go. He couldn’t. But the thought of holding onto you only to keep hurting you, to keep dragging you through his own tangled web of insecurities and fears—it was unbearable.

“She’s barely holding up. She hides it well, but Seonghwa can see it. He told me how she sits alone for hours, just staring off into space, like she’s lost something she can’t find. She keeps her phone close, hoping maybe, just maybe, you’ll reach out. But every time you don’t... it breaks her a little more.”

Hongjoong’s chest tightened painfully, each word slicing through him like a blade. He could see it so clearly now, every painful moment he’d forced you through. How you must’ve waited for messages that never came, must’ve spent countless nights wondering where things had gone wrong. The thought of you sitting there, lost in your own pain, while he’d been so focused on his own fears, was more than he could bear.

“And don’t think she hasn’t tried to talk to you.” Wooyoung’s voice turned sharp, accusatory. “Seonghwa told me how many times she’s wanted to reach out, just to make sure you’re okay, just to see if you’d give her even a scrap of reassurance. But every time, she stops herself. She doesn’t want to bother you, doesn’t want to seem needy. She’s holding back everything she feels because she’s afraid it’ll push you further away.”

Wooyoung’s eyes softened slightly, but the fire of his conviction remained. “You need to understand, Hongjoong. This isn’t just about you anymore. It’s about her too. You’re hurting her, and if you don’t start realizing that, it’ll be too late. She’s going to break, and I don’t think she’ll come back from it.”

Hongjoong felt a cold wave of dread wash over him. The thought of you shattering into pieces because of his cowardice was unbearable. He wanted to argue, to defend himself, to say that he was doing this for you, for the both of you. But deep down, he knew it was a lie. He was only trying to shield himself from the fear of loss, the same fear that had haunted him since that girl from his past had walked away.

“I can’t… I can’t lose anyone again, Woo,” Hongjoong finally admitted, his voice cracking under the weight of his confession. “What if she sees me for who I really am? What if she realizes I’m not worth it?”

Wooyoung shook his head, frustration flashing across his features. “That’s where you’re wrong. She already sees you, and she loves you for all the parts you’re trying to hide. You think you’re protecting her by staying away, but you’re only pushing her further into despair.”

Hongjoong’s heart raced, a whirlwind of emotions colliding within him. “How do you know? How do you know she feels that way?”

“Because I’ve talked to Seonghwa, and he cares about her, Joong! He’s seen her cry over you. He told me she broke down one night, just sitting on the floor of her room, wondering why you were so distant. She kept saying she must’ve done something wrong. Do you want that for her? Do you want to be the reason she loses herself?”

The image of you curled up alone, tears streaming down your face while grappling with your worth, sliced through Hongjoong. The sheer guilt of it settled heavily in his chest, suffocating him. He had wanted to protect you, but in doing so, he had only hurt you more.

Hongjoong lingered in silence, the weight of his unspoken fears casting a shadow over the room. He could feel Wooyoung’s gaze on him, a

persistent pressure urging him to confront the thoughts he’d been too afraid to voice.

“What if…” The words caught in his throat, his voice strained with the vulnerability he couldn’t hide. “What if I take the next step, and she leaves? What if she ends up leaving just like—”

Wooyoung interrupted him by reaching forward, pressing his fingers gently but firmly to Hongjoong’s lips, shushing him with an authority that surprised them both. “I know what comes next, Hongjoong,” he murmured. “You don’t need to say it.”

Hongjoong stiffened, pulling back ever so slightly, a touch of annoyance flickering across his face. “You think it’s that simple?” he muttered, frustration bleeding into his voice. “You think it’s easy to just… forget?”

Wooyoung’s expression softened, though he held firm. “I think you’re holding onto something that’s long gone, Joong. And you’re letting it get in the way of something real.” He paused, leaning forward. “So what if the girl you loved back in middle school left you? You’re still letting her be the one who decides what happens now?”

Hongjoong’s mouth opened, then closed, his defenses crumbling under Wooyoung’s scrutiny. He could feel the words bubbling up, the excuses he’d used to justify his fears over and over, but this time, they didn’t come. The silence between them grew heavier, and he felt himself shrinking under Wooyoung’s eyes.

“It’s not about her,” Hongjoong finally managed, his voice a strained whisper. “It’s just… this was exactly how it started back then. The same moments, the same feelings, and then…” His voice broke, a haunted look creeping into his eyes as the memories clawed their way to the surface. “And then it all just fell apart the moment she left without a word.”

Wooyoung’s expression softened, his gaze filled with something close to sympathy, but there was no pity there, only an understanding forged through years of friendship. “Joong,” he said softly, leaning even closer as if he could bridge the distance that Hongjoong had placed between himself and everyone around him. “So what if some things feel familiar? They’re not the same person, are they? You’re not the same person, either.”

Hongjoong clenched his jaw, a flicker of anger sparking in his chest as he searched for a way to deflect, to deny the truth in Wooyoung’s words. “It’s… it’s not like that, Woo. You don’t get it.” His voice grew sharper, frustration edging his tone as he tried to hold onto the walls he’d built.

Wooyoung shook his head, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Really? Because it doesn’t look that way to me.”

Hongjoong looked away, his gaze hardening as he stared at the floor. “It’s not that simple, okay? You don’t know what it’s like to… to risk everything and then lose it.”

Wooyoung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Hongjoong, I may not know exactly what you went through, but I do know one thing: you’re letting something from the past dictate your future. And that’s not fair. Not to you, and definitely not to her.”

Hongjoong’s shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him as he felt the weight of Wooyoung’s words settle over him. Part of him wanted to argue, to cling to the fears that had kept him guarded for so long, but another part—a part he’d buried deep—knew that Wooyoung was right.

“What if I let myself try?” His voice was barely above a whisper, his words laden with the weight of years of doubt and self-preservation. “What if… what if I take that risk, and she ends up leaving?”

Wooyoung’s gaze softened, and he leaned forward, resting a reassuring hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder. “Joong, if she’s really the person you believe she is… then maybe it’s a risk worth taking. Because people leave, yeah. They walk away. But the ones who matter, the ones who are meant to stay—they won’t go anywhere.”

“You’re saying I should just… trust that?” His voice wavered, the question more for himself than for Wooyoung, as if he needed to convince himself that he could still believe in something other than his own fears.

Wooyoung’s mouth curved into a gentle, understanding smile. “Yeah. Trust it. Don’t let something that’s already gone keep you from what could be right here, right now.”

“What if I let her in? What if I let her see the real me? What if it’s not enough?”

“Then you fight for her,” Wooyoung replied. “You show her every day that she’s enough. You fight for her instead of running away. You have to be brave enough to take the risk, Joong. And if she does leave, at least you’ll know you tried. You can’t live in the shadow of your past forever.”

“But what if she sees me as weak?” Hongjoong countered, bitterness lacing his tone. “What if she thinks I’m broken?”

“Then you show her that even broken pieces can fit together to make something beautiful,” Wooyoung shot back. “You’ve built this wall around yourself, but you’re just hurting the one person who’s tried to break through. You need to trust her. You need to let her help you. She wants to be there for you, but you have to meet her halfway.”

The truth of those words echoed painfully in Hongjoong’s mind. He had been running, terrified of the vulnerability that came with love, terrified of the chance that he could be left once more. But he could feel the edges of that fear beginning to fray under the weight of his guilt, unraveling with every word Wooyoung spoke.

“You can’t let the past dictate your present, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung said, his voice softer now, a mixture of empathy and frustration. “You can’t keep running away from what you feel. If you do, you’ll end up losing her, and it’ll be your fault.”

Hongjoong’s heart raced as he thought of you—how you had lit up his life in ways he never thought possible. How your laughter had become a soothing balm to his weary soul. He couldn’t keep ignoring the truth that was staring him in the face. The realization washed over him like a cold wave. “What am I supposed to do?” Hongjoong whispered.

“Fight for her, Joong. Show her that you’re not afraid. Be honest with her, and don’t let fear win this time.” Wooyoung leaned closer. “She deserves that much, at the very least. Fight for her—before it’s too late.”

“But what if it already is?”

🪞 — lividstar.

𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐? 𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎. 𝙱𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚎

𝙽𝚘𝚠 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙴𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚂𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝙱𝚢 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 "𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝙰𝚑, 𝚠𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎 (𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊)"

𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚗 𝙲𝚘𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚎 𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚜

𝙻𝚎𝚝'𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎

𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝙴𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝚃𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝙵𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝚂𝚒𝚡𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝙴𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝙽𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 𓆉 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜 𝙴𝚙. 𝚃𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢

GET UP! LIVIDSTARR JUST UPDATED THE CITY OF LOVE! WE ARE SO BACK!

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤTHE CITY OF LOVE

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ Chapter Ten: Push and Pull

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ < previous | next >

masterpost

៚ wc: 4.6k (total: ???)

៚ fluff, angst, fashion designer!hongjoong x model!reader (ft. personal assistant!seonghwa & photographer!wooyoung), slowburn, strangers to lovers, soulmates au if you squint, do french people actually say bonjour irl?

៚ playlist !

៚ The memory of what happened—or what had almost happened last night, still remained fresh in your mind. As a result, you find yourself on edge as you head to Hongjoong’s agency per Seonghwa’s request, still processing the events that had unfurled. Upon arrival, you notice Hongjoong acting distant, leaving you uneasy. Seonghwa, sensing your discomfort, tries to lighten the mood and catch up, but the tension lingers in your mind as you try to make sense of Hongjoong's sudden change in behavior.

a/n: decided to come back to commemorate ateez’s 6th anniversary 🥳 this chapter’s a bit short but take this as some sort of headstart for what’s about to come! i missed you guys so much

tags: @beabatiny @babymbbatinygirl

The bus rattled along the familiar cobblestone streets of Paris, but your mind was far from the city’s usual charm. Today, the picturesque views outside the window were nothing more than a blur as your thoughts swirled in a mix of anticipation and dread. You sat at the very back, the cool glass of the window pressed against your head as you tried to make sense of the anxious knot in your stomach. Coming to Hongjoong’s agency at Seonghwa’s request, something you usually would’ve been excited about, now felt like a heavy burden. You told yourself it was just another day, another visit to pay.

But deep down, you knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

Over time, things have started to shift between you and Hongjoong—and whatever happened last night was just the nail in the coffin. Even though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, you could still feel the change in your bones.

Ever since you and Hongjoong had grown closer, there had always been an unspoken connection—a bond that went beyond mere friendship. You’d fallen into a routine of easy familiarity, one that sometimes blurred the lines between what friends typically did. Yet, it had always felt natural, never forced or awkward. But last night was different.

The memory sent a shiver through you as you recalled the way you nearly altered the course of your friendship, had Wooyoung not interrupted the moment. The way he had looked at you like it’s all he’s ever known, the way his breath had hitched as if he had forgotten how to exhale, the way the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you at that very moment... you had felt something shift in that moment, something you weren’t quite ready to confront.

Now, as you sat on the bus, the memory of that moment replayed in your mind, leaving you with a strange mix of longing and confusion. You weren’t sure how you felt about it, or what it meant for your friendship with Hongjoong. Part of you wished he would just forget about it, pretend like it never happened, so you could both go back to the comfortable routine you had established. But another part of you, a quieter, more vulnerable part, wondered what might have happened if you hadn’t been interrupted.

The bus came to a halt, pulling you from your thoughts. This was your stop. You took a deep breath, trying to gather your scattered emotions as you stepped off the bus and onto the pavement. The cool morning air did little to calm your nerves. Each step toward the agency felt heavier than the last, and you found yourself repeating a silent mantra in your head: “Please don’t bring it up. Please don’t bring it up.”

As you entered the building, the familiar cool blast of the air conditioning greeted you, doing little to soothe your anxiety. The agency was bustling with activity as usual, but the usual hustle and bustle felt distant, like background noise that you couldn’t quite focus on. Your thoughts were too preoccupied with the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

Seonghwa had said he would meet you in the lobby, so you headed there, trying to push aside the nerves that twisted in your gut. You weren’t sure what you were more anxious about—seeing Hongjoong after what had almost happened or having to navigate the conversation with Seonghwa while pretending nothing was wrong.

But when you reached the lobby, your heart skipped a beat. Not only was Seonghwa there, but so was Hongjoong. The two of them were sitting on one of the plush couches, chatting casually. Hongjoong’s phone was in his hand, and he seemed relaxed, completely at ease in a way that made your stomach twist even more. How could he be so calm when you felt like you were about to crash out?

Seonghwa noticed you first, his face breaking into a warm smile as he waved you over. “There you are! I was starting to think you got lost on the way,” he teased lightly. But despite his light-heartedness, you could barely muster a smile in return.

“Sorry, the bus took a little longer than I expected,” you replied, your voice slightly strained as you approached them.

Seonghwa stood to greet you properly, but it was Hongjoong you couldn’t keep your eyes off of. “Morning, Hongjoong,” you said, hoping against hope that he would act normal.

For a moment, he looked up from his phone, his eyes meeting yours. But the connection was brief—too brief for your liking, too different from what you’re used to. He nodded curtly, barely holding your gaze for more than a second before looking back down at his phone. “Morning,” he muttered, his tone almost dismissive.

Before you could even process the oddness of his behavior, Hongjoong suddenly stood up, slipping his phone into his pocket. “I have to head out. I’ve got some work I need to finish,” he said abruptly, his voice flat, almost devoid of the usual warmth.

“Oh... okay,” you responded, trying to hide the sting of disappointment that pricked at your heart. Was it because of last night?

Hongjoong barely spared you another glance as he nodded to Seonghwa. “I’ll catch up with you later,” he added before turning on his heel and walking away, his footsteps echoing in the spacious lobby.

You stood there, frozen in place, as you watched him disappear down the hallway with concern etched all over your face.

Seonghwa must have noticed the flicker of confusion and hurt on your face, given how he stepped closer and offered you a gentle smile—one that did little to ease your nerves, but hey, at least he’s trying his best, right?

“Don’t worry about him,” he said softly. “Hongjoong’s always been like that. He gets caught up in his work sometimes.”

But he’s not. You know he’s not like that. At least you think he isn’t—but it’s foolish to try to go against someone who has known him for longer than you have.

So how much do you really know about Hongjoong? Or, better yet—do you even know him at all?

You forced a smile in return, though it felt more like a grimace. “Yeah... maybe,” you murmured, though doubt gnawed at the edges of your mind.

Seonghwa gestured to the couch where he and Hongjoong had been sitting moments before. “Come on, let’s sit. It’s been a while since we’ve had a chance to catch up,” he suggested.

Once you and Seonghwa were settled on the couch, you found yourself nervously fidgeting, your hands gripping the fabric of your dark brown skirt as if it were the only thing anchoring you in place. The soft material bunched under your fingers, and you absentmindedly rubbed the texture between your thumb and forefinger. Your feet, however, seemed to have a mind of their own, your boots tapping lightly against the floor in a consistent rhythm.

Seonghwa watched you for a moment, his eyes softening as he took in your unusually tense demeanor. His smile faded slightly, replaced by a gentle concern as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You seem a bit on edge,” he remarked cautiously, his voice careful not to pry too deeply. “Is everything alright? You’re usually not this quiet.”

You blinked, your attention snapping back to him, realizing you’d been lost in your own head. “Oh, it’s nothing,” you said quickly, your voice higher than usual as you tried to dismiss the worry in his eyes. “Just... tired, I guess.”

But the reassurance felt hollow even as you said it, and Seonghwa didn’t look convinced. His brow furrowed, and he tilted his head slightly, as if trying to read the truth on your face. You could feel his gaze, heavy with unspoken questions, and you squirmed under the scrutiny, your fingers digging deeper into the fabric of your skirt.

You opened your mouth to say something more, to steer the conversation away from the uncomfortable territory it was veering into, but the question slipped out before you could stop it: “Did something happen to Hongjoong before I got here?”

Seonghwa’s expression shifted from concern to mild confusion. He straightened up, his eyes narrowing slightly as he replayed the morning in his head. “Hongjoong? No, not that I know of,” he answered, his tone slow as if he were double-checking his memory. “Actually, he was in a pretty good mood when we were talking. Why do you ask?”

“Oh…” The single word fell from your lips like a stone, heavy and sinking into the silence that followed. You looked down, the tapping of your foot coming to an abrupt halt.

So, it really was because of last night—because of you.

The realization sat uneasily in your chest, a mixture of guilt and confusion swirling together. Why was he acting like this? And why couldn’t you shake the feeling that it was somehow your fault?

The change in your demeanor hadn’t gone unnoticed, and Seonghwa couldn’t help but wonder what had caused the sudden shift. “Did something happen between you two that I should know about?” he asked, the question slipping out before he could think twice about it.

For a brief moment, you hesitated, caught between wanting to confide in him and the desire to just keep it all to yourself. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Seonghwa—far from it. But how could you possibly explain what had almost transpired between you and Hongjoong last night? How could you put into words the tension, the almost unspoken moment that lingered like a specter in your mind? The way you’d both teetered on the edge of something you weren’t sure either of you were ready for?

You glanced up at Seonghwa, your mouth opening to speak, but the words got caught in your throat. You couldn’t bring yourself to say it outright—that you and Hongjoong had almost crossed a line that neither of you would have been able to step back from. Instead, you settled on a question of your own, one that seemed to hover over everything like an unspoken truth. “Is Hongjoong usually the… on and off, push and pull type of person?”

Seonghwa considered your question carefully, his expression thoughtful. He leaned back, his gaze drifting as he seemed to search for the right words. “Hongjoong... he’s complex,” Seonghwa began slowly, choosing his words with caution. “He’s not always the easiest to read, and he definitely has his moments where he pulls away. But it’s not always about the other person. Sometimes it’s more about what’s going on in his own head.”

You nodded, processing Seonghwa’s response, but it did little to soothe the unease gnawing at you. The ambiguity of Hongjoong’s actions left you grappling with your own feelings, wondering if the almost-moment had been a step too far—or if, perhaps, it was a step you weren’t meant to take just yet.

You bit your lip, glancing down at your hands. The words you wanted to say lingered at the tip of your tongue, already too heavy for you to push behind. Finally, you exhaled slowly, grappling with your thoughts as you tried to put them into words.

“What if,” you began, “let’s say you and someone, hypothetically, of course—maybe Hongjoong—were on good terms one night, sharing jokes that only the two of you understand, and it feels like, for a moment, you’re really getting somewhere... like you’re finally diving into a deeper level of friendship. But then, the next day, it’s like you’ve done something wrong. Like suddenly, you’re a stranger, or worse, like you’re a problem that needs to be avoided.”

Seonghwa’s brow furrowed as he listened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed your words. A beat passed in silence, his expression shifting from confusion to something more knowing. “You’re talking about yourself, aren’t you?” he asked—but you knew denying it would be foolish, because it seems like he already knows the answer and is just waiting for you to confirm his hypothesis.

But of course, it’s still embarrassing to give in right away.

You immediately shook your head, your denial quick and a little too forceful. “No, no,” you stammered, a nervous laugh bubbling up to cover the crack in your composure. “It’s just a hypothetical situation. A... a thought experiment, really. That doesn’t apply to Hongjoong and me—we’re on good terms.”

Even as the words left your mouth, they felt flimsy and false, as insubstantial as smoke. It was a lie—a denial that you hoped would convince not just Seonghwa but also yourself. What a sin it was to lie to yourself, you thought, feeling the sting of your own dishonesty more acutely than you’d expected. But how could you admit the truth when it was still so raw, so undefined even in your own mind?

Seonghwa didn’t look entirely convinced, his eyes lingering on you as though trying to see past the mask you’d hastily thrown on. But after a moment, he nodded, though the crease between his brows remained. “Alright,” he said slowly, granting you the benefit of the doubt, though you could sense the lingering skepticism in his tone. “If it’s just a hypothetical situation...”

He leaned back, crossing his arms as he thought it over, considering your so-called analysis. “Well,” he began thoughtfully, “if someone acts like that, it’s usually because they’re dealing with something internally. It might have nothing to do with you at all. Sometimes people pull away because they’re scared of how close they’re getting, or maybe because they’re battling their own insecurities. It’s not necessarily fair to the other person, but it’s not always about them either. It’s about the person who’s pulling back, struggling with their own feelings or fears. The push and pull, as confusing as it is, isn’t always meant to hurt. Sometimes it’s just... a defense mechanism? That’s what I’d call it.”

He paused, watching you closely, as if gauging your reaction to his words. “But if that person cares,” Seonghwa continued, his voice softening, “they’ll come back around. It might take time, but if they really value the relationship, they’ll find a way to bridge the gap. It’s just... sometimes people need to work through their own stuff before they can fully be there for someone else.”

You nodded along, your mind racing with Seonghwa’s explanation, each word resonating in a way that hit too close to home. Could that be it? Was Hongjoong simply trying to figure out his own feelings, or was there something deeper at play?

After the conversation with Seonghwa, you decide to distract yourself by exploring the agency a bit more. Seonghwa suggests visiting one of the studios, a familiar place where the designers and models are usually busy creating the next big thing. The idea seems harmless enough, and you hope it might help you take your mind off the tangled mess of emotions still buzzing in your head.

As you and Seonghwa walk through the halls, the lively chatter and the click of heels on the polished floors provide a backdrop that usually energizes you. But today, everything feels muted, like you’re watching from behind a glass wall. You can’t shake the lingering sense of discomfort from your earlier encounter with Hongjoong, and as you enter the studio, the atmosphere seems to weigh down on you.

Hongjoong is there, of course—standing by a sketchboard, deep in conversation with another designer. He’s gesturing animatedly, pointing out details on the paper, his passion for his work evident even from a distance. For a moment, you’re content to just observe him, the sight of him in his element stirring a fondness that you can’t quite suppress. But then, as if sensing your presence, he glances up. Your eyes meet, and the world seems to still for a heartbeat.

But instead of acknowledging you, Hongjoong’s expression closes off, and he turns back to his work without so much as a nod. The dismissal stings, sharper than you expected. It’s as if he’s deliberately keeping you at arm’s length, and the casual disregard feels like a slap in the face. Seonghwa, noticing the sudden shift in your demeanor, gives you a questioning look, but you just shrug, feigning indifference.

The designers break for a moment, and Seonghwa waves Hongjoong over. Hongjoong approaches, but his steps are slow, reluctant. When he finally reaches you, he barely spares you a glance. “Hey,” he mumbles, his voice flat and devoid of the warmth you’ve come to expect. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, looking anywhere but at you.

Seonghwa tries to engage him in conversation, asking about his latest designs and upcoming plans, but Hongjoong’s responses are curt and to the point. The easy camaraderie you’d seen between him and Seonghwa earlier has vanished, replaced by a stilted formality that makes the air feel thick and uncomfortable. You can’t help but feel like an intruder, caught in the middle of a conversation that’s turned cold and impersonal.

When Seonghwa finally asks if Hongjoong has time to catch up, Hongjoong hesitates, his eyes flitting to yours for just a split second before they drop to the floor. His lips press into a thin line, as if he’s considering the implications of staying versus leaving. Finally, he shakes his head. “I can’t right now,” he says, not quite meeting Seonghwa’s eyes. “There’s too much to get done.”

The excuse sounds flimsy even to your own ears, but Seonghwa simply nods, accepting it without questioning his words. You, however, can’t help the sharp pang of disappointment that tugs at your chest. It’s not just the fact that Hongjoong doesn’t want to stay and chat; it’s the way he won’t even look at you, like he’s deliberately avoiding your presence, and it’s almost as if you’re invisible.

“Alright, no worries,” Seonghwa replies with a casual shrug, though you notice the slight crease in his brow—a sign that he’s picked up on the tension, even if he doesn’t fully understand it. He claps Hongjoong on the shoulder, trying to keep the mood light. “We’ll catch up some other time, then.”

Hongjoong nods absently, already half-turned back towards his work. “Yeah, sure,” he mutters, but there’s no conviction behind his words. His eyes flick to the sketches on the wall, and it’s as if the conversation is already forgotten, his focus shifting entirely away from you and Seonghwa. Without another word, he walks back to the sketchboard, resuming his conversation with the other designer as if the brief interaction never happened.

The sting of his indifference leaves you reeling, and you’re not sure whether to feel angry, hurt, or both. It’s as if last night’s near-moment had flipped a switch inside him, and now you’re paying the price for whatever crossed line he thinks was drawn. You swallow hard, fighting the urge to call after him, to demand an explanation, but the words die in your throat. This isn’t the place for that—there’s too much at stake, too many eyes watching.

Seonghwa glances at you, concern flickering in his gaze. “Don’t take it to heart,” he says quietly, as if seeing right through you. “He’s probably just stressed. You know how he gets when he’s in the zone.”

You nod, forcing a tight smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, I know,” you reply, but the words feel hollow. Deep down, you can’t shake the feeling that this is more than just stress or a busy schedule. There’s something else at play, something simmering beneath the surface that neither of you can quite grasp.

Seonghwa leads you away from the studio, and you follow in silence, your mind replaying the brief encounter over and over like a broken record. Every glance, every dismissive gesture, every word left unsaid feels like another tiny wound, each one building on the last until they form a gaping chasm between you and Hongjoong that you’re not sure how to bridge.

As you walk, Seonghwa tries to fill the quiet with idle chatter, talking about some of the upcoming projects and the new talent the agency is scouting. You nod along, but your thoughts are miles away—it’s like you’re caught in a loop, circling around the same questions with no clear answers in sight.

Finally, Seonghwa stops in front of a glass door leading to one of the agency’s rooftop lounges. He turns to you, his expression softening as he takes in your distant look. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently. “I mean, really talk about it. I know you said it’s hypothetical, but... it doesn’t feel that way.”

You hesitate, your gaze drifting to the floor. Part of you wants to open up, to spill everything that’s been weighing on your heart, but another part of you holds back, afraid of what admitting the truth might mean. You’ve always prided yourself on being able to handle your own feelings, to keep them neatly tucked away where they can’t cause trouble. But this... this is different.

“I don’t know,” you finally admit, your voice as silent as the wind’s whispers. “I just... I don’t want to make things worse. And I don’t even know what’s going on in his head.”

Seonghwa watches you, his expression unreadable for a moment before it softens into something more empathetic. “Sometimes, you just have to let people work through their own stuff,” he says quietly. “You can’t always fix it, no matter how much you want to. But that doesn’t mean you’re alone in it. If you ever need to talk or just... figure things out, I’m here.”

You nod, a small, grateful smile tugging at your lips. It’s not much, but it’s enough for now. The comfort of knowing that at least someone understands, even if only a little, helps to ease the tightness in your chest.

Seonghwa gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before turning to push open the door, letting the cool breeze from the rooftop wash over you both. You follow him out, letting the fresh air clear your mind, even if just for a moment. It’s a brief reprieve from the tangled mess of your thoughts, but it’s one you’re grateful for.

Sitting down on one of the chairs, you let out a sigh, fingers nervously tracing patterns on the hem of your skirt as your thoughts spiral. Seonghwa watches you quietly, giving you the space to process, but his curiosity is palpable. He waits, his presence a silent invitation for you to unload whatever has you troubled.

“I don’t even know why I’m looking too deeply into it—and that’s what’s bothering me the most,” you murmur, your voice so soft it almost gets lost in the quiet hum of the lobby. It feels like you’re confessing a secret, something fragile that might shatter if spoken too loudly. And maybe, in a way, you are.

Seonghwa furrows his brow, leaning in slightly as if to catch your words more clearly. “Why? What do you mean?” he asks, genuinely puzzled.

You hesitate, your gaze flitting from the floor to Seonghwa’s face before dropping back down, as if even his gaze is too much to bear right now. “Don’t you... don’t you think so, too?” you ask, your tone laced with uncertainty, like you’re searching for validation but already dreading the answer.

Seonghwa tilts his head, still looking lost. “Not at all... why do you feel like you’re overthinking it way too much?”

“Well, for starters, we’re friends,” you begin, your words spilling out in a rush. You’re so caught up in your own explanation that you miss the flicker of amusement that dances in Seonghwa’s eyes, the way his lips twitch upward as if he’s holding back a knowing smile.

“Right… friends.” Seonghwa nods along, doing his best to maintain a neutral expression. “And?”

“I don’t know, I just feel like... well, I feel like I’m being a terrible friend by overthinking his need for personal space. Screw that—can I even call myself a friend of his if I don’t know how to respect the fact that he needs time to work through his own stuff?” You pause, your frustration bubbling to the surface as you try to articulate your emotions. “Me, personally, I’d feel off if I’m just having a bad day and a friend of mine decides to make it about them by asking, ‘Are you mad at me?’ But like, I just...”

Your words trail off, the rest of your thoughts jumbled and disjointed in your mind. You glance at Seonghwa, waiting for some sort of reaction, half-expecting him to agree that you’re being ridiculous, that you’re blowing things out of proportion. Instead, he gives you a sympathetic smile, his eyes warm with understanding.

“Listen,” Seonghwa starts, leaning back against the chair across you, adopting a more relaxed posture as if to put you at ease. “I get where you’re coming from. It’s easy to feel like you’re overstepping when you care about someone and you’re not sure how to navigate their boundaries. But you know what? Friendship—if that’s still what you wanna call whatever’s going on between you and Hongjoong—isn’t about getting it right all the time. It’s about being there, even when you’re not sure if you’re doing it perfectly.”

You let his words sink in, but the doubt still lingers at the edges of your mind. “But what if I am overstepping?” you press, a hint of desperation creeping into your voice. “What if he needs space and I’m just making things worse by worrying about it?”

Seonghwa chuckles softly, his laughter a gentle, reassuring sound. “You’re human, you know that, right? Not some perfect robot programmed to always know the right thing to do. Besides,” he adds with a playful smirk, “I’ve seen the way you and Hongjoong look at each other. I think he’d forgive you for overthinking a little.”

Your eyes widen, heat rushing to your cheeks at the implication behind Seonghwa’s words. “What—what’s that supposed to mean?” you stammer, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. “There’s nothing like that between us. We’re just…”

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow, a mischievous expression forming on his face as he watches you wave him off. “Right, friends. Just friends who get all worked up when the other one’s being moody,” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows. “Come on, you’re acting like Hongjoong’s the only one with feelings here.”

You groan, feeling your face flush. “Don’t say that!” you protest, covering your face with your hands, wishing you could somehow hide from the embarrassment. “It’s not like that. I just—he’s important to me, okay? And I don’t like not knowing where I stand.”

“Relax, I’m just messing with you,” Seonghwa chuckles, though his eyes soften with understanding. “Look, maybe he’s just having one of those days. You know how Hongjoong is—sometimes he gets in his head and needs a little space to sort through his thoughts. But that doesn’t mean he’s upset with you, or that you’ve done something wrong.”

You exhale slowly, letting Seonghwa’s words wash over you. He’s right, of course. Hongjoong has always been the type to retreat inward when things get overwhelming, and you know that better than most. But knowing it and accepting it are two different things, and it’s hard not to let your own insecurities creep in when faced with his sudden distance.

Seonghwa reaches over, giving your knee a reassuring pat. “Hey, you’re doing your best. And if you ever need to talk, or if you just need to be distracted from it all, you know I’m here for you.”

You smile, though it’s small and a bit shaky. “Thanks, Seonghwa,” you say quietly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He grins, the teasing glint returning to his eyes. “Well, for starters, you’d probably be even more of a mess than you are now,” he jokes, earning a light punch to the arm from you. But then his expression softens again, sincerity shining through. “Seriously, though. You’re not alone in this. And whatever happens with Hongjoong, you’ll figure it out.”

Hopefully.

🪞 — lividstar.

𓇼 𝘈𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘻 𝘍𝘪𝘤 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘌𝘱.𝘚𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𓇼 𓆞 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𓆞 𓇼 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴/𝘈𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴/𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𓇼

𓇼 𝘰𝘵8/𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Hey, are you busy right now? - @skrrts ot8 x reader (drabble series) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Home Is - @skrrts hyung line x reader (one-shot series) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 How They Fell For You - @atzloverr yandere!ot8 x reader (scenarios) 𓆞 𓆞 If Something Chases You, Run - @solaris-amethyst non-idol!matz x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Innocent Touch - @yeopoet hyung line x reader (scenarios) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘬𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Heart Art & Rain - @skrrts non-idol!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Helping Hand - @mulloey producer!hongjoong x singer!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Highway to Cloud Nine - @orshii biker!non-idol!hongjoong x mechanic!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Hongjoong Spending That Song Writing Money On You - @m1ngkis bf!idol!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Hongjoong Relieving Some Stress For You - @m1ngkis bf!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢 𓇼 𓆞 Mommy Issues - @smuttaburger bf!idol!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Open Wide | Swallow - @hausofwoo bartender!seonghwa x server!reader (two-parts) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Piece By Piece - @emeraldelysian bf!seonghwa x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Prefects And T(h)reats - @pirateprincessblog slytherin!seonghwa x hufflepuff!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 She'll Chew You Up - @h4untedgrl non-idol!seonghwa x maneater!reader (one-shot) 𓆞

𓇼 𝘫𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 This Might be Love - @03jyh23 non-idol!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy | Horses Are Still Overrated - @yunhoszn cowboy!yunho x city girl!reader (two-parts) 𓆞 𓆞 Sober - @beenbaanbuun bf!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Sugar - @mingoooossii bf!yunho x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 The Bus At 11:17 | The Date At 11:17 - @skrrts non-idol!yunho x reader (two-parts) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘬𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 Duality - @naybii bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 La Douleur Exquise - @ja3hwa ghost!yeosang x witch!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 My Doll - @h4untedgrl bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 What’s Your Favorite Movie? - @tinybeetiny ghostface!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Took Me To The Stars - @shixcherie theater actor!yeosang theater actress!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘯 𓇼 𓆞 Little Shop On 8th Street - @jeonginslefthand flower shop owner!san x reader (series) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Love Beyond Barriers - @catsannie non-idol!san x reader (smau series) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 My Angel - @seongsangssbitch military general!san x goddess!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 PTA Parent - @pyramid-of-starrs dad!san x mom!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Safe Habor - @cocobeanncteez attorney!san x ceo!reader (one-shot) 𓆞

𓇼 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪 𓇼 𓆞 Rings of Temptation - @crimsonbubble bf!mingi x reader (thoughts) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Six Foot Savior - @smuttaburger non-idol!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Then, Now, And Always! - @alxtiny idol!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 The Princess Treatment Chronicles! | The Return Of The Princess Treatment Chronicles?! - @yuyusuyu best friend!non-idol!mingi x non-idol!reader (two-parts) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Under The Sheets - @k-hotchoisan bf!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞

𓇼 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 I'm Not Getting It. - @darlingsaybonvoyage best friend!wooyoung x reader (texts) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Miles Across - @callmeagardengnome idol!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Only Mine, My Darling - @tinyidle non-idol!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Secrets And Stars - @maltesejjong fiancé!non-idol!wooyoung x reader (series) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Stay Back, I Bite - @solaris-amethyst non-idol!wooyoung x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Random Bf!Ateez Texts - @hwamphwamp bf!jongho x reader (texts) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Untitled - @bombuni bf!jongho x reader (drabble) 𓆞 𓆞 Very Demure - @pyramid-of-starrs bf!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Warm - @beenbaanbuun bf!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Zemblanity - @in-san-ity mafia!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞

"oh my love, how i wish we had more time together."

Is that a reincarnation lovers trope I sense?!?

I’m curious to learn more about reader and their love also if wooyoung would make any wishes.

Keep up the amazing work I always love reading your stories <3

𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓮 𝓘𝓷 𝓐 𝓑𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 「III」

๋࣭⭑ pairing : wooyoung x reader ๋࣭⭑ au : non idol! | strangers to lovers | slow burn ๋࣭⭑ genre: fluff | crack | angst ๋࣭⭑summary: wooyoung birthday didn't go as planned / getting to know yn the genie 𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ➜ @chanceonceli

yn sat in her bottle, the room she grown to know and tidy for the past who knows how long. Her last master dying from old age or was it from a plague? She can't remember but she felt relief when she was summoned.

Now, was she expecting eight gorgeous men to have been surrounding her? No, absolutely not but she definitely enjoyed it. Seeing their shocked faces when she introduced herself.

Yn let out small sigh as she picked up a small picture frame of a male, who shared such striking familiarity to her new master.

" oh my love, how i wish we had more time together."

The moment hung in the air, heavy with nostalgia and unspoken words. Yn traced the outline of the man in the picture, his smile warm and inviting. The room felt colder without him, a stark reminder of the past she could never reclaim.

Her small room contain of a queen size bed, bookshelves lining the walls and a window that can show her the surroundings if she so wishes to see.

" i'm sure master wooyoung wouldn't mind me peaking..." She mumbled, stepping towards the closed window.

As the window open she can see her master with another female, the other men standing around awkwardly. Yn noticed how her master felt uncomfortable and she wanted nothing more then to go out and help him. But atlas, she can not as she was not summoned.

" why would you get vanilla? You know i hate vanilla" The women whined.

" because it's my birthday Minyoung, not yours. Seonghwa hyung baked it for me." Wooyoung said, fumbled with his fingers.

Minyoung rolled her eyes, not noticing the tension that grew in the room. Crossing her arms, she leaned back onto the couch as Wooyoung began to cut the cake. Yn felt awful for her new master as she can notice the sad look on his face.

As Wooyoung sliced through the vanilla cake, the knife trembled slightly in his hand. He tried to put on a cheerful expression, but it was clear that Minyoung's comment had deflated his excitement. Seonghwa had put effort into baking the cake, and Wooyoung had been eagerly waiting to share it with everyone.

Sensing the shift in mood, Seonghwa cleared his throat, trying to ease the atmosphere. "Wooyoung, you want me to help with the candles?" he asked softly, his tone gentle.

Wooyoung nodded, offering a small smile. "Yeah, that’d be great, hyung." As they set the candles and lit them, he glanced over at Minyoung, who was still oblivious to the disappointment her words had caused.

Yn wished she could say something to lighten Wooyoung's spirits, but her role kept her from interfering. Instead, she silently vowed to find a way to bring a genuine smile back to his face.

As the door closed behind Minyoung and the boys, Wooyoung slumped back onto the couch, the last traces of his usual lively energy completely drained. His gaze drifted to the half-eaten cake, the remnants of what was supposed to be a happy moment. He ran a hand through his hair, a sigh escaping him as he looked down, shoulders sagging.

His eyes wonder to the bottle, his hands already reaching for it. Wooyoung’s fingers graze the bottle, his touch delicate yet filled with a silent yearning. He held the bottle carefully, almost reverently, as if afraid it might disappear if he grasped it too tightly.

“Yn… Ms. Genie?” His voice was soft, laced with a mixture of hope and hesitation, as though he wasn’t quite sure if he should be asking. He looked at her, his eyes reflecting the vulnerability he so rarely showed to others.

Yn appeared before him in an instant, gracefully lowering herself until she was eye level with him. With a gentle smile, she took the bottle from his hands and set it back on the table, her movements calming and careful. She wanted him to know she was here, ready to listen, ready to be whatever he needed her to be in that moment.

“Hello, Master Wooyoung,” she greeted softly, her voice warm and soothing. Her gaze held his, filled with quiet understanding, as she saw the sadness still lingering in his eyes.

Wooyoung swallowed, trying to steady his voice. “You know… you don’t have to call me ‘Master.’ Just Wooyoung is fine.”

Yn’s smile softened even further, a hint of playfulness entering her expression. “Old habits, I suppose. But if it makes you feel better… Wooyoung,” she replied, dropping the formal title just for him.

yn bit her lip, pondering is she should ask about the rude women that was here early but from the way she can see how upset her master is

Yn bit her lip, hesitating as she glanced at Wooyoung’s downcast expression. Part of her wanted to ask about the woman who’d been here earlier—the one whose words had so clearly hurt him. But seeing the sadness still lingering in his eyes, she decided against it, not wanting to bring up something that might deepen his hurt.

" yn "

" yes Wooyoung?"

" tell me about yourself"

Yn blinked in surprise, not expecting the question. She’d grown so used to listening, to being there for others and focusing on their needs, that it felt almost strange to have the attention turned to her.

Wooyoung nodded, leaning forward slightly. “I do. We might as well since we'll have a lifetime together.”

Yn gave him a soft smile, a warmth blooming in her chest at his words. “Alright. Where to start?” She paused, thinking for a moment. “I’ve been… well, ‘here’ for as long as I can remember. My life has mostly been about helping others, like you,” she said, her tone gentle. “I may not know everything about the world beyond these walls, but I’ve always found joy in being of service.”

Wooyoung listened intently, his expression thoughtful. “So, you’ve never really had a life of your own?”

She shook her head, though there was no sadness in her eyes—only acceptance. “Not in the way you have, no. But I don’t mind. I feel… fulfilled, I suppose, knowing that I can make a difference in someone else’s life. Even if it’s in little ways.”

Wooyoung’s gaze softened. “But… do you ever wonder what it would be like to do something just for you? To have a wish of your own?”

Yn hesitated, a flicker of longing crossing her face. “Maybe sometimes,” she admitted quietly.

Wooyoung let out a soft hum, watching Yn with a thoughtful expression. He took in the way her gaze drifted, as if she were seeing something far beyond the room they sat in. A smile placed on his lip as he silently thanked Yunho and Mingi for the gift.

this was so cute! I love just the two of them talking and building it’s so relaxing, still haven’t gone out and build a lego set so this will do.

thank you again taking in my request when will i have more no clue, but I know that I can count on you to accomplish them perfectly 💕

🪻Lego Friday🪻

✨Pairing: non idol!Seonghwa x gn!reader ✨Prompt: Building a lego set with seonghwa I don’t have much of an idea around this one I just really wanna build a lego set and from watching seonghwa lego lives building with him just looks like so much fun. ✨Requested by @beabatiny🫶🏻 ✨Word Count: 0.9k ✨Genre: fluff ☀️Authors Note: Thank you for requesting this! It was fun writing and I hope you enjoy it🥰 also sorry this took me so long to write😭

"I wanna build legos."

It was announced to you as you were making some desserts for the two of you. Seonghwa was standing in the kitchen holding two enormous lego bags he had pulled out from somewhere whilst giving you the biggest puppy eyes.

"Do you want me to build legos with you?" You ask fighting back a chuckle at the way he was standing and pouting.

His little nod brought a smile to your face as you finished up the dessert.

"Then we will build legos together! Got any I can build? Nothing too complicated please!"

As you said that Seonghwa was already picking up the different lego sets he had, eager to find one you could work on.

"Baby Yoda? Or maybe some flowers?? Or both??" He holds two sets up for you showcasing one where you'd build baby Yoda or some flowers to have for display.

"Hmmm Yoda looks a bit easier, can I start with that one perhaps?"

"Yes!!!" He nods and then quickly hurries to the living room moving with urgency to move everything to the side so the two of you can build the legos together comfortably.

"Cutie." You say to yourself shaking your head with a little laugh before entering the living room with two cups of dessert and two spoons.

You sit down next to him looking curiously at what he's doing.

"Here! One baby Yoda box for you! I'll work on a darth vader one then!" He says happily while handing you your box.

"Thank you!" You say as you take the box and empty it on the floor in front of you.

The two of you sit in silence for a while sorting through the pieces before you remember something you wanted to share with him.

"Did I tell you what Wooyoung and Yeosang did yesterday when we went mini golfing?" You ask him as you start putting some of the pieces together.

"What did those two do this time?" He asks curious to know what your friends had done. Knowing that Wooyoung was involved it could mean anything from silly things like stealing a bite from someones ice cream to something more chaotic.

"Well they started arguing about the best way to push the ball in the hole and decided to make it a competition." You start telling him and Seonghwas boba eyes are focused on you.

"I'm sensing a but?" he says chuckling and you can't help but laugh and nod.

"Yeah, Yeosang did better and to try and distract him, Wooyoung decided to full on chomp on his shoulder." You show by imitating Woo's chomp on Yeosangs shoulder on Seonghwas shoulder without actually biting him.

His laugh ring through the apartment as he shakes his head at your friends antics.

"That sounds just like them to be honest." He says as he hands you the piece you're looking for whilst showing you where it should go.

"Yeah they truly can't be stopped. We almost got kicked out because of Wooyoungs loud chatter but we managed to get him to quiet down by promising we'd buy him food if he could be a bit quieter so we could play to the end."

The two of you sit and talk for hours, giggling about everything from the legos, to your friends, to things that has happened recently in your life whilst enjoying the dessert from time to time that you had prepared.

"Look! Isn't it cute once it's finished?" Seonghwa ask as he shows you the little Darth Vader figure hes put together and you look at him in surprise.

"How did you finish so quickly?! I'm still trying to figure out what I've done wrong." You say as you hold up your Yoda figure which looks a bit wonky due to you putting the wrong pieces together.

"Ahhh well I'm the pro aren't I? You'll learn quickly if you build legos more often." He says whilst moving closer to you, taking the lego from your hands and undoing what you had put together wrongly.

"Here, let's try again okay? This piece." He holds up a big piece and gives it to you "goes here okay? Whilst this one goes over there."

He helps guide you by pointing where certain pieces will go.

"Thanks Hwa, this is really calming you know." You mumble as you focus on setting up the last pieces of Yoda before showing it to him proudly.

"Ta-daaaa!" You show the lego piece off and he claps his hands excitedly for you.

"It looks great!"

"That's because I had such a great teacher!"

You two take a little break after that, sitting facing each other and chatting about anything and everything.

"I saw that they're playing Coraline again in the theaters for its 15th year anniversary. All nine of us should go and see it since we're nearing spooky season." Seonghwa says while rummaging through the rest of his unbuilt lego.

"It's in theaters?! All of us have to go! We should go dressed up as the characters! Wooyoung could be the talking cat!" You exclaim and Hwa looks excited at the idea of dressing up and going to see it.

"Yes!! I wanna be one of the old ladies with all the dogs." He lets you know.

"Hongjoong should dress as the other old lady then." You laugh and the night ends with you two planning who would be which character as you start on a new piece of lego, this time deciding to build it together while laughing at the idea of getting dressed to go to the movies.

me typing out in every chapter that I hate any character that is just trying to ruin reader and hongjoong’s relationship isn’t enough…I need a weapon of massive destruction because what the fuck?!?

I’m not figuratively losing my mind. I am literally losing my mind. The more I read the worst it just gets like I need them to just talk and stop saying things to make things worse when you got three different people jumping to ruin your life.

I need reader and hongjoong to talk and make up, not just kiss or avoid cause I can’t. I already know that something else is gonna happen next chapter.

I enjoyed the chapter despite me losing my mind while reading it, keep up the amazing work! <3

Popular, Boy

☆09: The first heartbreak.

Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!Reader

Genre: +18, smut, angst, slow burn, drama, dark academic, love triangle.

wc: 10k

Summary: Jealousy lingers, tension rises, and the distance grows. Words are left usnsaid, excuses pile up, emotions spiral pit of control, and one thing becomes clear...

Some things, once broken, can never be the same.

Warnings: Cursing, angst, insecurities, verbal fights, violence, Hongjoong being possessive, Seonghwa being an asshole, and Mike being Mike.

Series masterlist Taglist

☆08 ☆10: The first wound. Coming soon.

It’s been a week.

A week of Hongjoong treating you just the same. He still kisses you good morning when he sees you, still takes your hand in his like it belongs there, still calls you pretty in that soft, teasing tone that makes your stomach flutter.

And yet—

Every time you ask him to hang out after school, he gives you the same answer.

"I can't, I'm busy."

"Not today, maybe later."

"I'll make it up to you, pretty. I promise."

It’s starting to feel strange.

At first, you brushed it off. Hongjoong wasn’t the type to reject you. He’d always been eager to be around you, eager to do anything you wanted. But now, it’s been a whole week since you’ve spent any time alone after school.

And not just you—other people have noticed it too.

"Okay, what’s up with Hongjoong, babe?" Mindy asks as you walk down the hallway between classes.

You raise an eyebrow "What do you mean?"

Samantha gives you a look "He’s been all over you during school, but the second you ask him to do something after, he bails. That’s weird."

You tense, because that’s exactly what you’ve been thinking. But hearing someone else say it?

It makes your stomach twist.

"You don’t think…" Wooyoung hesitates beside you, lowering his voice "You don’t think the rumor is true, do you?"

You stop walking, slowly turn to face them.

"That’s ridiculous."

Sam shrugs "I mean… is it?"

Woo lifts his hands in surrender "We’re just saying, babydoll—if he really likes you, why does he keep avoiding you outside of school?"

Your grip on your bag tightens. Because you've been asking yourself the same thing.

If Hongjoong really just wanted to sleep with you and leave, then why does he still act like this?

Why does he still kiss you so sweetly?

Why does he still hold your hand like it means something?

Why does he still look at you like you’re the only thing that matters? And then avoid you the moment the bell rings?

You hate that this stupid rumor is getting to you. You hate that you’re even considering it.

But doubt has already settled into your chest like a cold, unwelcome weight. And you have a feeling it’s not going away anytime soon.

During lunch, you sit alone at your usual table, waiting for your friends and Hongjoong to join you after you skipped class.

The cafeteria is buzzing with noise when you feel someone slide into the seat beside you.

"You okay, sweetheart?"

You don’t need to look to know who it is.

Seonghwa.

You exhale sharply, eyes still glued to your untouched lunch.

"I'm fine."

"Well, you don’t look fine."

You finally turn your head to him. He’s giving you that soft, concerned expression—the one that used to mean something before you learned how easily he could lie through his teeth.

"I’m just tired, Hwa." You mutter.

Seonghwa hums, resting his chin on his palm "Is it because of Hongjoong?"

You tense "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

He chuckles, low and knowing "Come on, Clarke. People are talking. He’s all over you in school, but the moment you ask for his time, he disappears? That’s not normal."

You swallow the lump in your throat "He’s just busy."

Hwa tilts his head, studying you "And you believe that?"

A sharp breath escapes you "You know what, Park? You’re annoying as fuck."

He smirks "Maybe. But I’m also right."

You glare at him.

"You know," He continues, picking at a fry from your tray "For a second, I thought maybe that nerd really liked you. But now? I don’t know, doll. It kind of seems like he got what he wanted and dipped."

Your blood turns cold.

He leans in, voice just above a whisper "And if that’s the case… I hate to say it, baby, but you got played."

You shove your tray forward, standing so abruptly your chair screeches against the floor.

"Go fuck yourself, Seonghwa."

You don’t wait for his response before storming off.

But his words stick to you like poison.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The dining room is silent, except for the quiet clinking of silverware against porcelain plates. The long table is set perfectly, as always—white candles flickering, an expensive floral centerpiece in the middle, the warm glow of the chandelier above casting soft shadows across the polished wood.

You aren't really hungry.

Your mind is elsewhere, your appetite dulled by the same thought that’s been gnawing at you all day.

Hongjoong is avoiding you.

‘If he really likes you, why does he keep avoiding you outside of school?’

‘I hate to say it, babe, but you got played.’

Wooyoung’s and Seonghwa’s words echo in your mind like a curse, sinking into every doubt you tried to suppress.

"Sweetie," Your mother’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You look up, blinking, to find your mother watching you carefully over her wine glass "How’s Hongjoong?" She asks casually before taking a sip.

"He 's fine."

Your mother hums "He hasn’t come over in a while. I assumed you two were spending all your time together."

You force a smile "He’s just been busy."

At the other end of the table, Mike lets out a quiet chuckle.

Your entire body tenses, you don't have to look at him to feel the amusement radiating off of him.

"Busy?" Mike repeats, voice dripping with mockery "That’s an interesting choice of words."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

Mike leans back in his chair, spinning his wine glass between his fingers lazily.

"I don’t know. Just seems odd, doesn’t it?" He glances at their mother “Hongjoong’s been practically obsessed with you, and now, after finally getting what he wanted, he’s suddenly too busy?"

Your grip on her fork tightens.

Why the fuck is everyone saying the same?

Assuming that Hongjoong will leave you after getting what he wanted… but what did he get?

Your attention, designer clothes, your heart, sex?

What?

"Mike," Your father warns, but there’s no real weight to it. He’s curious, too.

Mike smirks, tilting his head as he looks at you "It makes me wonder—was it really about you, or just about what you could give him?"

Your chest tightens. You hate that his words hit a nerve because you agreed to help Hongjoong become popular.

You told him you’d make him into someone that people would admire, someone who belonged at the top.

But now—things were different.

Hongjoong wasn’t just someone you were molding anymore. You were starting something real.

At least… you thought you were.

Mike watches you carefully, his smirk widening like he can see the doubt creeping into you.

"Don’t look so upset, YN. It’s nothing personal." He takes a slow sip of wine, then adds, "It’s just how people like him work."

You set the fork down with more force than necessary.

"People like him?"

He shrugs "Poor, desperate, climbers."

Your blood boils at the way he says it "Joong isn’t like that." You snap.

Mike raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your reaction.

"No?" He gestures toward you "Then why hasn’t he made time for you?"

You don't answer because you don't know. You want to believe that Hongjoong is just busy. That there’s an explanation for all of this.

But with Mike’s voice slithering into your head, twisting your insecurities like a knife, you feel something dangerous take root inside you…

Doubt.

✮ ⋆

The night air is crisp when you step onto the balcony outside your room. The estate’s vast garden stretches below, bathed in moonlight, but you barely notice.

Your mind is somewhere else.

Mike’s words still linger, pressing against your chest like a weight you can’t shake off.

You pull out your phone. Your thumb hovers over Hongjoong’s chat.

You want to ask. Where have you been? Why don’t you want to see me after school? But the words won’t come.

Instead, you type something simpler.

YN♡: Hey, are you awake?

It takes a minute before he replies.

Joongie♡: Yeah. What’s up, pretty?

You exhale. He answers your texts just as quickly as always. So why does it feel like something is wrong?

YN♡: I just wanted to talk with you.

A second later, your phone vibrates with an incoming call.

You hesitate—just for a moment—before answering.

“Hi, pretty.” Hongjoong’s voice is warm, soft. The way it always is when he talks to you.

You lean against the balcony railing, closing your eyes.

“Hi.”

“Why are you up so late?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

He chuckles “Touché.”

There’s a small pause, filled only by the sound of his breathing. Normally, you’d find it comforting. Tonight, it just makes the space between you feel bigger.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks.

You could ask. You should ask. But something stops you.

Because if he lies—if he feeds you some excuse—you’re not sure you can handle it.

So instead, you say, “Yeah. Just couldn’t sleep.”

Hongjoong hums not convinced “Want me to tell you a bedtime story?”

You roll your eyes, but a small smile tugs at your lips “What are you, my personal audiobook now?”

“Hey, I’d make a great one,” He teases “You could fall asleep to the sound of my voice every night.”

Your smile falters. He says things like this so easily. Like nothing’s wrong.

Like he’s not avoiding you.

You grip the phone tighter “Joong.”

“Yes, pretty?”

You open your mouth. Then—A distant voice echoes through the speaker. A girl’s voice.

“Kim, can you help me?!”

Your heart stops, fingers tighten around the phone as you process what you just heard.

He isn’t home.

He isn’t alone.

Your mind spins. It’s late—why is there a girl with him this late? Where is he?

Hongjoong’s voice comes back, a little hurried “Uh—yeah, give me a sec! YN?” He says, like he’s waiting for you to say something.

But you force yourself to sound normal “You should go.”

There’s a pause “Are you sure?”

You swallow past the lump in your throat “Yeah. Goodnight, Hongjoong.”

“…Goodnight, pretty.”

You hang up before you can second-guess it.

Your phone drops to your side, knuckles white as you grip it.

For the first time since the rumor started, you feel something snap inside you.

And this time… you don't know if you can ignore it.

✮ ⋆

Hongjoong puts his phone beside him, exhaling as he leans against the counter. His conversation with you lingers in his mind, the edge in your voice making his stomach twist. He hates lying to you.

But what other choice does he have?

As he grabs a clean glass, Jina, his coworker, walks up to the counter, wiping down a tray. Her long brown hair is tied back in a loose ponytail, her uniform slightly adjusted to fit her style.

She glances over at him, eyes flicking to his phone resting on the counter.

For a brief moment, she pauses. Then, she leans in a little closer, noticing the wallpaper on his phone—an image of a gorgeous girl. This girl looks effortlessly perfect, radiating confidence and beauty, the kind of girl who seems out of place in Hongjoong's world.

Hongjoong’s worn-out, baggy clothes, glasses and his simple, grounded life don't compare to the polished, glamorous figure staring back from his screen.

Jina raises an eyebrow, has she seen that girl before or is she mistaking her for someone else?

She shrugs, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips "Who's that?" She asks casually, her voice light, but there's a hint of curiosity.

Hongjoong tenses slightly, not expecting her to notice and not wanting to share his private life.

“She 's YN.”

Jina tilts her head slightly, the smirk on her lips not fading.

"YN, huh?" She repeats, swirling the rag in her hands before tossing it onto the tray "Didn’t take you for the type to go for a girl like that."

Hongjoong frowns, glancing at her "Like what?"

She shrugs, turning to grab a fresh glass from the shelf, her movements slow, deliberate.

"You know…" Her voice is laced with something unreadable, something almost amused. "The kind of girl who looks like she belongs in a magazine. All dolled up, walking like the world owes her something. The kind of girl who—" She pauses, tapping her nails against the glass before giving him a quick, sideways glance "—doesn’t usually go for guys like you."

His jaw clenches. He shouldn’t let it get to him, but the way she says it, like it’s a fact written in stone, makes his chest tighten.

"You don’t know her."

Jina hums, as if considering that, before flashing him a small, knowing smile

"Maybe. But I know her type."

Hongjoong doesn’t answer. He doesn’t trust himself too. Because deep down, buried under everything, isn’t that the same doubt that’s been creeping into his own thoughts?

That you are too good, too untouchable, too far from his reality?

Hongjoong frowns, not liking her tone “She’s not like that.”

Jina laughs under her breath, shaking her head “Come on, Kim. Girls like her don’t go for guys like you unless they’re bored.”

His grip on the glass tightens, a flicker of irritation sparking in his chest.

“Again, you don’t know her.”

“Maybe not,” Jina says again, feigning innocence as she picks up another tray, wiping it down slowly “But I do know how girls like that work. They play with people, keep them around as long as it’s entertaining, then drop them the second they get tired. It’s all just a game to them.”

Hongjoong exhales sharply, shaking his head “YN isn’t like that,” He insists, but there’s a tightness in his throat, a sliver of doubt trying to creep in.

Jina shrugs, unbothered “Is your girlfriend or why are you defending her so much?” She asks, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Hongjoong hesitates before answering "Not exactly," He admits, trying to keep it vague. "We're... something."

She snorts softly, setting the tray down with a thud "Something? Sounds complicated."

He shrugs, pretending not to care "It's not."

Jina steps a little closer, leaning her hip against the counter beside him.

"Let me guess," She says, crossing her arms and eyeing him carefully "She likes the idea of you, but not the reality of you. You know, the type that wants the thrill of the ‘nerd having a crush over a pretty girl’ fantasy but would never actually stick around once the excitement fades."

Hongjoong's frown deepens, his grip tightening slightly on the glass.

"That's not true, Jina." He says, his voice firm, but there's a subtle crack in his confidence.

Jina chuckles softly, looking back at the wallpaper one more time.

"I don't know," She says, tapping her finger against the counter "But from the looks of it, seems like the kind of girl who wouldn’t stick around for long. And guys like you, working here every day, still stuck in the same routine while she’s off in her perfect little world... Doesn't exactly scream 'serious relationship,' does it?"

His jaw tightens, the sting of her words settling deep inside him.

"It's not like that."

"Mmm." She hums again, unconvinced "Whatever you say, Kim. But if I were you, I'd be careful. Girls like YN? They love the idea of being with someone different—until they don’t. And when they’re done playing? They move on like you never existed."

Hongjoong swallows hard, trying to push down the creeping doubt. He doesn't believe that about you. He knows you care about him. But the nagging thought, planted by Jina's words, continues to worm its way into his mind.

Noticing his silence, Jina gives him one last look, her eyes flicking back to his phone screen.

"Well," She adds with a knowing smile "It looks like she's the kind of girl who's way out of your league. The relationship between a girl like her and a guy like you—it's almost a joke."

Hongjoong feels a flush of heat rise to his cheeks, but he quickly forces a chuckle, pretending her words don't affect him.

"You don't even know her." He mutters, trying to deflect.

Jina just shrugs with a smirk "I don't need to know her. I can tell for the way she looks." She tosses the cloth she was holding onto the counter and stretches, clearly pleased with herself.

"Anyway, you should let me know if you ever get tired of being her little experiment."

But there’s something knowing in her eyes, something unreadable in her smirk as she steps away, leaving Hongjoong alone with his thoughts.

And for the first time in a long time, he feels unsettled.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The school hallways buzz with energy, students laughing, gossiping, moving in clusters between classes. Hongjoong walks through the crowd, hands shoved into his pockets, his backpack hanging off one shoulder.

He’s exhausted—his body still adjusting to the extra hours at work, the sleepless nights, the weight of hiding it all from you.

But then, he sees you. And his exhaustion is momentarily forgotten.

You’re leaning against your locker, laughing, your head tilted slightly back. The kind of laugh that makes your eyes shine, the kind that used to be reserved for only him. But it’s not him making you laugh.

It 's Park Seonghwa.

He’s standing close—too close. One hand resting on the locker beside your head, his body angled toward you with that effortless confidence, like he knows he belongs there.

He says something, and you roll your eyes, but there’s a smirk on your lips, the kind that invites more teasing.

Hongjoong watches as Seonghwa reaches out, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The touch lingers, casual yet intimate.

Familiar.

His stomach tightens. Jina’s voice echoes in his mind: ‘The kind of girl who doesn’t usually go for guys like you.’

He clenches his fists.

This isn’t new. This is how things were before—before he became anything more than the nerd who followed you around like a lost puppy. Before he touched you, kissed you, had you beneath him, whispering his name like he was your whole world.

But looking at you now, he wonders if anything really changed.

Seonghwa grins, tilting his head as he murmurs something in your ear, his lips dangerously close to your skin. You swat his arm, laughing again, but you don’t push him away.

Hongjoong swallows hard, his throat dry.

Maybe Jina is right.

Maybe you are too good for him.

Maybe you’re just playing with him—like Seonghwa, like everyone else in your world does.

He forces himself to look away, to keep walking, to pretend he doesn’t care. But the doubt, the insecurity, the awful, twisting feeling in his chest—it stays.

He should walk away.

He should ignore the way Seonghwa leans into you, the way his hand casually lingers on your waist like it belongs there, the way you smirk at whatever teasing remark he just made.

But he can’t.

Because it’s you.

And you’re his now.

So instead of walking away, Hongjoong turns on his heel and heads straight for you.

Hwa notices him first. His smirk widens, eyes gleaming with something almost amused. He doesn’t move, doesn’t put any distance between you and him.

If anything, he shifts, just slightly—making sure Hongjoong sees exactly how close he is to you.

Hongjoong’s clenches his jaw “Hey, pretty.” His voice is casual, but there’s a possessive edge beneath it.

He slips his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. It’s a bold move—one he wouldn’t have dared to make before—but now?

Now, he needs to make sure Park Seonnghwa knows.

Your eyes widen in surprise, but you don’t pull away. Instead, a slow smile tugs at your lips as you glance up at him.

“Hey, Joong.”

Hongjoong presses a quick kiss to your temple, locking eyes with Seonghwa as he does it.

Hwa raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained “Well, well. Someone’s feeling brave today.”

You sigh, placing a hand on Hongjoong’s chest before this turns into something annoying.

“Stop it, Hwa.”

“What? I’m just saying.” Seonghwa tilts his head, pretending to examine Hongjoong “Didn’t know you had it in you, nerd. Guess I underestimated you.”

Hongjoong keeps his expression blank, but his grip on you tightens.

“Guess you did.”

For a moment, the tension lingers—Seonghwa’s smirk unwavering, Hongjoong standing his ground, you caught between the two of them.

And then Seonghwa just laughs. He claps Hongjoong’s shoulder like they’re best friends.

“Relax, man. I’m just messing with you.” He glances at you, his grin turning softer, more genuine “She’s all yours… for now.”

Hongjoong stiffens at the last part, but before he can say anything, Seonghwa winks at you and strolls away, hands in his pockets like he owns the damn hallway.

You sigh “You’re so easy to tease, babe.”

He ignores that “You let him touch you too much.”

You smirk “Are you jealous, Joongie?”

He scoffs, pulling you closer “I don’t like when other guys act like that with you.”

Your heart skips a beat.

Fuck.

Before you can respond, a movement catches Hongjoong’s eye. Across the hallway, standing by the lockers, Dann watches.

She looks away quickly, but not before he catches the sadness flickering across her face. She’s not smirking, not plotting, not whispering to anyone. Just standing there, staring at him like she’s watching something slip away.

Hongjoong swallows hard, guilt stirring in his chest.

But then you pull him back to you, your fingers playing with the collar of his blazer like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and just like that—he forgets all about Dann.

He watches as you tilt your head up, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

“Are you jealous, Joongie?”

He should deny it. Act unbothered. Pretend Seonghwa’s hands on you didn’t make his blood boil.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he tightens his grip on your waist and leans in so his lips are just a breath away from yours.

“You’re mine, pretty.” He murmurs.

And then—he kisses you.

It’s not rushed or desperate, but there’s something firm about it, something that makes it clear to everyone watching that this isn’t just a game to him.

That you aren’t just some passing thrill like the stupid rumor says.

You hum against his lips, smiling as you kiss him back, your arms looping lazily around his neck.

And across the hallway, Dann watches.

Watches as you melt into him.

Watches as Hongjoong—her Joong, the one who used to only care about being popular, about her opinion, about their stupid, nerdy friendship—acts like nothing else matters except you.

Her hands curl into fists. She doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until the kiss ends and you laugh, pushing Hongjoong away playfully.

That’s when she looks down.

That’s when she finally walks away.

✮ ⋆

Later, at lunch. You poke at your salad, not really eating, watching Hongjoong as he scrolls through his phone between bites.

You should be enjoying this.

A week ago, you wouldn’t have even imagined having him beside you like this—sitting so close, stealing bites from your plate, his knee brushing against yours under the table.

But something feels… off.

Because you’re always with him—except when it matters.

You exhale, setting your fork down “Wanna do something after school?”

Hongjoong barely looks up “Can’t.”

You frown “Again?”

“I’ll make it up to you, pretty,” He says, flashing that sweet, nerdy smile that used to make you melt “Promise.”

You roll your eyes, unimpressed “That’s what you said yesterday.”

Hongjoong falters “I—”

“And the day before that, and last week.” You add, tilting your head.

He swallows, clearly guilty, but still, he doesn’t explain.

Just like always.

You huff, pushing your tray aside “Forget it.”

And this time, he doesn’t have a response.

Because you both know—this isn’t just about today.

This is becoming a routine.

And you’re starting to hate it.

✮ ⋆

That afternoon your house is rarely quiet.

Too quiet.

It’s late, and you’re curled up on the living room couch, a book in your hands—one Hongjoong recommended to you weeks ago. You never planned on reading it, but now that he’s been too busy to spend time with you, you find yourself clinging to the little things that remind you of him.

Mike is here too, sitting in one of the armchairs across from you, flipping through a book of his own. For a moment, there’s peace and not the constant bickering—just the soft rustle of pages turning.

Then, it shatters.

"Darling."

Your father’s sharp voice cuts through the air. You tense, lowering the book just as he strides into the room, his phone in hand. There’s something about the way he looks at you—cold, expectant, already disappointed—that makes your stomach tighten.

"You mind explaining this?" He holds up his phone "I just received a notification that you spent five hundred thousand dollars this month, again."

Your grip on the book tightens. Your heart pounds, but your face remains unreadable. You already know what this is about.

The money you sent to someone.

But you can’t tell him that.

So, you lie. Easily. Effortlessly.

"Clothes," You say, flipping a page in your book like this conversation is beneath you "I bought some pretty things."

Your father exhales sharply, his irritation evident. "YN—"

"I am YN Clarke, am I not?" You interrupt, looking up at him with a slow, sharp smile "It would be a disgrace if I didn't spend money like one."

Your father clenches his jaw "And I'm not complaining about you spending money, just try to use it for other purposes instead of buying clothes, you already have so many, Darling and—"

"Do I have to ask permission to spend it now?" You cut in, voice smooth but icy.

Your father glares at you. Then exhales, shaking his head like you’re hopeless. Like you’re not even worth the effort.

"You act just like your mother," He mutters under his breath.

And then—

Laughter.

Slow, cruel, mocking.

Mike leans against the couch, watching with amusement.

"That’s an insult to Mother," He says, a smirk curling his lips "At least she knows when to keep her mouth shut."

Your blood runs cold.

“Mike.” Your father warns him.

You can feel Mike’s eyes on you, waiting for a reaction.

But you won’t give him one.

Not now. Not ever.

So you lean back, pick up your book again, and turn the page like nothing ever happened.

But inside?

Inside, you are burning.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

You stare at your phone, fingers gripping it tightly.

No message. No call. Nothing.

Hongjoong hadn't shown up at school. Again.

The first time, he had at least texted you. But today? Silence.

You tried to ignore it. Pretend it didn’t bother you. But as the hours dragged on and your messages remained unread, irritation started brewing into something heavier—something that felt a lot like doubt.

By the time school ended, you had already made up your mind.

You got into your car and drove straight to his house.

Hongjoong was still asleep when the loud, persistent knocking dragged him out of unconsciousness.

He groans, rubbing his eyes as he reaches for his phone—only to realize it’s dead. The knocking comes again, more insistent this time.

Dragging himself out of bed, still half-dazed, he stumbles toward the door and cracks it open.

Then, he freezes.

You stand there, arms crossed, looking every bit like a queen ready to tear someone apart.

“Pretty?” His voice is groggy, confused.

You push past him into the house without waiting for an invitation.

“So you are alive,” You say flatly, glancing around the dimly lit room before turning to face him “Great. Now tell me why the hell you didn’t show up at school or bother to text me.”

Hongjoong runs a hand through his messy hair, still processing everything.

“My phone died,” He mutters “I— I was just really tired. I didn’t mean to—”

You scoff, cutting him off “Tired? That’s your excuse?”

He blinks “I mean… yeah?”

You let out a sharp laugh “Right. You were so tired that you just forgot I existed?”

His frown deepens “YN, it’s not like that—”

“Then what is it like?” You snap, stepping closer “Because lately, all you do is act sweet one second and avoid me the next.”

Hongjoong exhales, already feeling the weight of this conversation pressing down on him.

“I’m not avoiding you.”

You arch a brow “Then why haven’t we hung out in weeks? Why do you always say no when I ask you to do something? And why didn’t you at least tell me you weren’t coming to school today?”

Hongjoong clenches his jaw. He knows you are right. But the truth—the fact that he is drowning under stress, exhaustion, and the pressure of keeping his job a secret—feels too heavy to explain.

“I just have… a lot going on.” He mutters.

You fold your arms tighter “Oh, so you do have time for something. Just not for me.”

“That’s not fair, pretty…” He says, frustration creeping into his tone.

“Isn’t it?” Your voice is sharper now, hurt lacing every word “Because from where I’m standing, it sure as hell looks like I was just some game to you.”

Hongjoong’s breath hitches “What?”

“Was that the plan all along? Get close to me, let me make you popular, and then just… pull away once you get what you wanted?”

His stomach twists “You don’t actually believe that rumor.”

“Then tell me what I’m supposed to believe, Hongjoong! Because I stood up for you. I risked my reputation for you. And now, when I finally feel like we are something, you start acting like this!”

He inhales sharply, his patience thinning “YN, not everything is about you!”

Silence.

The second the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

Your expression barely changes, but he sees the way your fingers twitch, the way your lips pressed together—like you had just been slapped.

You let out a bitter laugh “Right.”

Hongjoong steps forward “I didn’t mean it like that, pretty. I just—”

“No, you’re right,” You cut him off, voice eerily calm “It’s not about me. Because if it were, you’d actually trust me enough to tell me what’s going on instead of shutting me out.”

He opened his mouth, but no words came.

Because you are right.

You shake your head, taking a step back “You know what? Forget it. I’m done begging for your time.”

Hongjoong panics, reaching for your wrist “Pretty, wait—”

You yank your arm away “Don’t.”

And for the first time, you are the one walking away. You don’t slam the door when you leave, you don’t need to.

The silence you leave behind is loud enough.

When you close your car door, you grab your cell phone and open the group chat with your close friends.

YN: Let's go to our club.

YN: Take whoever you want.

✮ ⋆

The music pulses through the club, a deep, rhythmic beat that vibrates through your bones. Neon lights flash in erratic patterns, casting the room in a kaleidoscope of colors.

You tilt your head back, allowing the intoxicating energy of the night to drown out the anger and frustration that had been eating at you all day.

Screw Hongjoong. Screw everything.

You sip your drink, the alcohol warming your throat as you lean against the plush VIP lounge. Wooyoung had come through, bringing some of his friends, including Seonghwa, who sits comfortably beside you, his usual smirk firmly in place.

“You look like you need this, babydoll.” Wooyoung says, nudging your side with a grin “Forget about that idiot for a night.”

You exhale sharply, taking another sip before raising your glass in mock celebration.

“Here’s to forgetting.”

The night wore on, and the drinks kept flowing. At some point, someone passed around a joint of weed, and without thinking, you took a hit of weed.

The world softened around the edges, the beats of the music sinking deeper into your bloodstream. You laughed, tilting your head back, your body loose, your worries fading.

Seonghwa watches you carefully from the corner of his eye, sipping his drink with calculated patience.

Then, as you giggle and lean into Wooyoung’s shoulder, eyes half-lidded, he pulls out his phone. With the quick flick of his fingers, he captured a short video—You laughing, pupils blown, and the telltale smoke curling from your lips. The joint is very visible to guess what it is about.

Perfect.

Discreetly, he sent the video to Dann, along with a simple message.

P.S: Show this to Mike. He’ll know what to do.

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Hwa sat back, watching as you swayed to the music, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing just outside your high.

Tonight was only the beginning.

✮ ⋆

As you stumble into the mansion, the world around you feels hazy, a lingering effect of the alcohol and whatever else you had consumed at the club. Your heels click unevenly against the polished marble floor, your head spinning slightly as you make your way up the grand staircase.

It’s late. Very late. The entire house is silent, draped in shadows. You don't even bother being quiet—your parents never wait up for you, and the staff know better than to question your comings and goings.

But the moment you push open your bedroom door, you freeze.

A figure is already inside, lounging in the chair by the vanity, bathed in the dim glow of the bedside lamp.

Mike.

Your breath catches, stomach twisting into a knot. He’s sitting with one leg crossed over the other, his fingers lazily rolling a heavy silver ring around his knuckles. His face is unreadable, but the air in the room is thick—too thick.

You swallow hard “What the hell are you doing in my room?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he slowly lifts his phone, tilting the screen toward you. It takes a second for your vision to focus. But when it does, ice rushes through your veins.

A video. A familiar setting. The club.

You.

High out of your mind, swaying with Wooyoung and Mindy, laughing recklessly. Then the shot moves, revealing the moment you leaned back against a couch, head tipping back as you took a slow drag from a joint of weed someone had handed you.

Fuck, this is bad. Really bad.

Your pulse pounds in your ears.

Mike finally speaks, his voice deceptively calm “Tell me, YN.” He tilts his head slightly, eyes dark and unreadable “Do you think our parents would be proud to see their little daughter doing this?”

Your jaw clenches, your hands curling into fists “That’s none of your business.”

Mike exhales a soft chuckle, shaking his head “Oh, but it is. Because your mess becomes my mess.” He stands, taking slow, measured steps toward you.

“You’re already a failure for our family, and now this?” He gestures to the phone “How do you think they’d react if they saw their little girl ruining her reputation like this?”

You lift your chin, masking the flicker of fear in your chest.

“Like you care about my reputation.”

His smirk drops “You’re spiraling, YN.” His voice is sharper now, colder “All because of that pathetic little loser you latched onto. And look at you now—coming home looking like trash, acting like some cheap whore.”

You flinch, your nails digging into your palms “Shut up.”

But Mike isn’t finished. He steps closer, towering over her, his presence suffocating.

“You think you can just do whatever you want? That you can embarrass this family without consequences?”

“I said shut the fuck up, Mike.”

He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him “Or what?” His voice is dangerously low.

You glare at him, your body trembling with rage “Or I’ll—”

You don't get to finish.

The slap comes fast and brutal.

A sharp crack echoes through the room as your head snaps to the side. Pain explodes through your cheek, your vision blurring for a second. The metallic taste of blood fills your mouth as your lip splits open, but it’s the dull, radiating ache in your cheek that stuns you.

Your breath shudders.

The rings. His heavy rings had cut deeper this time, the force of the blow enough to bruise instantly.

For a moment, silence blankets the room. You stare at the floor, breath ragged, your entire body stiff.

Mike exhales slowly, shaking out his hand as if the hit had been a mere inconvenience.

“Maybe that’ll knock some sense into you.”

You don’t move. Don’t speak. Don't let him see how much it hurts.

Because if you do, he wins.

After a moment, Mike scoffs “Fix yourself up.” He turns, walking toward the door “And stay in line, YN. You’re a fucking Clarke.”

With that, he leaves.

The door clicks shut.

Only then you allow yourself to breathe.

A shaky inhale. A trembling exhale.

Your fingers reach up, touching the stinging skin of your cheek.

And then—you laugh.

Soft.

Hollow.

Because if you don't laugh, you might start crying.

And you refuse to cry for him.

Not anymore.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The morning sun filters through your window, casting golden streaks across your sheets. You blink groggily, your head pounding from the remnants of last night. But it isn’t the hangover that makes you hesitate to move.

It 's the pain.

Your cheek throbs, the bruise deepening overnight. The gash on your lip is dry, cracked, and stings when you shift your mouth even slightly.

For a moment, you just lie there, staring at the ceiling.

You should stay in bed. Hide. Avoid everyone.

But you have an important exam today.

With a slow, careful movement, you push yourself up and drag yourself to the vanity. The moment you see your reflection, your stomach twists.

The bruise has settled into an ugly shade of deep purple and blue along your cheekbone, and the cut on your lip is impossible to ignore.

You swallow, your fingers tighten into fists before you reach for your makeup.

You layer on foundation, pressing it into the bruised skin despite the pain. But no matter how much you apply, the discoloration peeks through.

Frustrated, you grab a small adhesive bandage and place it over the worst part of your cheek, disguising it as a minor scrape. Your lip, however, is trickier. You settle for a dark shade of lipstick—anything to draw attention away from the damage.

Dressed immaculately as always, you grab your bag, sunglasses and head for the door.

Skipping breakfast is easy. Avoiding your parents? Even easier.

No one stops you as you leave.

The moment you step onto campus, all eyes are on you.

You walk with usual confidence, head high, stride controlled. But you can feel it—the way whispers ripple through the hall as students glance at the bandage on your cheek even under the sunglasses, at the way you don't quite meet anyone’s eyes.

Your friends rush to you the second you reach your locker.

"Babe, what the hell happened?" Mindy is the first to speak, her eyes wide with concern.

"Doll, did you get into a fight or something?" Another friend chimes in.

You force a small chuckle, flipping your hair over your shoulder.

"Relax, it's nothing. I tripped on the stairs at home. Hit my face on the railing like an idiot."

Some of them seem to accept it.

But Mindy doesn’t.

Her sharp eyes flick over your face, lingering on the bruise beneath the makeup, the tightness in her expression.

You know that look. Mindy isn’t buying it.

Still, she doesn’t press—not here, not in front of the others.

"Well, whoever built your staircase should be sued," Mindy jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

You force another laugh "Right? I should’ve gotten a warning sign."

The conversation moves on, shifting to gossip, plans for the weekend, anything but you. But Mindy stays close, watching you.

And from across the hall—so does Hongjoong.

He hadn’t expected to see you today after yesterday.

After your fight.

After you left, looking at him like he had broken something between them.

But here you are. And something is wrong.

Even from a distance, he can tell.

You’re quieter, your movements more controlled than usual, like you’re holding something in. And the moment he notices the bandage on your cheek, his stomach twists.

What happened to you?

Was it because of yesterday’s fight?

Did someone—

His jaw clenches, his fingers curling into fists.

He wants to go to you. Ask. Demand answers. But after everything that happened, after the things they said to each other, he hesitates.

He’s the last person you want to see right now.

So he stays where he is, watching as you disappear down the hall with your friends. Watching, and worrying.

During lunch, the room is buzzing with its usual chaotic energy, the clatter of trays and chatter filling the air. You sit at the far end of the table, Mindy by your side, but she can tell you’re not really there.

Your eyes stay trained on the empty space in front of you, your fork poking listlessly at the food.

Mindy is the one to notice him first. Hongjoong stands a few feet away, looking like he's about to approach, but frozen by the tension in the air. He shifts from foot to foot, glancing between you and your friend, obviously unsure of what to do.

Your gaze flicks to him, but you quickly look away, jaw tightening. You’re not in the mood for this, not today.

Hongjoong takes a few tentative steps forward "Hey," He starts, his voice almost too soft, like he’s testing the waters "I... I just wanted to say I'm sorry for what happened yesterday."

You don't meet his eyes. Instead, you pick at your food, pretending to be absorbed in it, but the tension around you is palpable.

He steps closer, a mix of concern and regret pulling at his features "I didn’t mean to hurt you. Whatever I said... I didn’t mean it." His voice cracks slightly on the last word, the guilt obvious "I just—"

"You don’t get it, do you?" You cut him off, voice sharp, though it trembles at the edges. Your hands fist into the napkin on your lap "You can apologize all you want, but nothing will change and you know it."

Your eyes flick to him, but it’s fleeting. You can’t bring yourself to look at him for long.

Mindy watches the exchange with a raised brow, her own discomfort starting to show. She leans in.

"Maybe we should just go...?"

Before Hongjoong can respond, you stand up abruptly, pushing the chair back with a sharp scrape.

"Get lost, nerd." You mutter, voice quiet but resolute.

Without another word, you grab your bag and start walking toward the door. Mindy follows closely behind, glancing at him with a small shake of her head, a silent apology.

Hongjoong watches them leave, his heart sinking. His fingers curl into fists, frustration and confusion surging through him. But you are already out of reach, disappearing down the hallway toward the bathroom.

The bathroom door swings shut behind them with a soft thud, and you lean against the sink, hands gripping the edge. Mindy follows you in, glancing around briefly before her eyes settle on you.

"Okay, babe. Spill it," Mindy demands, arms crossed "What the hell happened between you two?”

You sigh, a deep exhale that feels like it comes from the very core of you. You look at her reflection in the mirror.

"We had a fight yesterday." You pause, fingers running over the bandage on your cheek "I’m tired of this routine.."

Mindy raises an eyebrow "I thought you were already dating.”

You press your lips together, your gaze flicking to the floor "We’re not… at least not yet.”

Mindy softens, her arms uncrossing as she approaches you "Babe—"

“Don't want to talk about it.” You cut her off as you search for your lipstick in your purse.

Mindy chews on her lip for a moment before nodding, though the uncertainty in her expression doesn’t fade.

"Okay, then let me remind you that you’re a terrible liar, babe.” She changes the topic and internally you appreciate it.

You roll your eyes, fixing your lipstick in the mirror “Excuse me?”

Mindy folds her arms “The stairs, YN? Really?”

Fuck, you thought she wouldn’t say anything about it.

You click your lipstick shut “It’s the truth.”

“Bullshit. I know you more than anyone.” Mindy steps closer, voice lower, serious “Tell me what really happened.”

You hesitate. Just for a second.

But you can’t tell her, so you do what you do best.

You smirk, tossing your lipstick into your bag “Why are you so dramatic, babe? I told you, I tripped.”

Mindy doesn’t look away “Was it Mike?”

Just for a second. You freeze.

But Mindy catches it, and for the first time, you feel something dangerous creeping up your throat. Not anger. Not annoyance.

Something far worse.

Something close to tears.

So you swallow it down, just like you always do.

You smile, perfect and unbothered “Of course not.”

And you walk out before Mindy can say another word.

✮ ⋆

The rest of the day is a blur. You move through the halls like a ghost, your usual presence dimmed. People notice, but no one dares to question you beyond whispers.

By the time the final bell rings, you feel exhausted—not just physically, but mentally. You don't want to go home. Don’t want to face Mike. Don’t want to face your parents and worry them with your wounds.

So, instead, you linger.

You head to the rooftop, where few people ever go at this hour. The cool breeze feels good against your burning skin, and for a moment, you close your eyes, letting yourself breathe.

But you aren't alone for long.

Footsteps.

Slow. Measured.

You know who it is before you even turn around.

Seonghwa.

Of course.

“Skipping your driver today?” He teases, coming to stand beside you.

You don't respond. You just watch the sky, waiting for him to leave.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he studies you—the bandage, the quietness.

“You look like shit.”

“Charming,” You mutter.

Hwa leans against the railing, crossing his arms “What happened?”

“Tripped.”

“Try again.”

You glare at him “Not in the mood, Seonghwa.”

He hums, unconvinced “I’ll take a wild guess. Mike?”

Your grip tightens on the railing.

Seonghwa watches, eyes sharp “You know, if you need help—”

“I don’t.”

A beat of silence.

“Fine.” Hwa sighs dramatically “But at least make it worth my time. If you’re going to suffer, at least be entertaining about it.”

You scoff, shaking your head “You’re sick.”

“You love it.”

For a second, they stand there, neither speaking.

Then Seonghwa says “Come out with us tonight.”

You look at him.

You consider saying no. You should say no. But the idea of drinking, forgetting—even for a few hours—is too tempting.

So you nod.

And Seonghwa grins “Good girl.”

✮ ⋆

Wooyoung is not in the mood for this conversation.

He's sitting in the cafeteria, scrolling through his phone, pretending he’s not listening to Seonghwa ramble beside him.

The tension in their circle has been suffocating ever since the rumor and little Hongjoong avoiding you—he knows everyone feels it.

And now, of course, Seonghwa is trying to stir the pot.

Woo sighs, setting his phone down "No."

Hwa blinks, then lets out a short laugh, like Wooyoung just said something ridiculous.

"No?"

"Yeah. No," Wooyoung repeats, leaning back in his seat "Why the hell would I invite Hongjoong?"

Park smirks "Because it’ll be fun."

"It won’t be fun for YN."

"And?" Hwa tilts his head, as if that is irrelevant "Come on, Wooyoung. They’re not even fighting, they’re just—what’s the word? Avoiding each other. So let’s fix it."

Woo gives him a dry look "Since when do you fix things?"

Seonghwa grins "Since it benefits me."

Wooyoung knows this is a bad idea. He knows it in his bones. You are already in a bad place, and dragging Hongjoong into a club—with Seonghwa there? That’s just asking for more drama.

And yet, Seonghwa is persistent.

"Think about it," Hwa says, lazily stirring his drink with a straw "The nerd has been acting weird, hasn’t he? The whole disappearing act after school? The tension with YN?" He pauses, letting it sink in before adding, "A night out could be very interesting."

Woo exhales through his nose, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Hongjoong doesn’t even go to clubs," Wooyoung argues.

Hwa shrugs "That’s what you’re for."

Woo groans. He rubs his temple, already regretting everything.

"You owe me one," Seonghwa reminds him, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

Wooyoung swears under his breath "Fine, but if YN gets pissed, you're taking the blame."

Seonghwa just laughs, slapping his back "Relax, Jung. What’s the worst that could happen?"

Wooyoung gives him a flat look, and Seonghwa just winks.

And that is how you know shit is about to go down.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The club is already packed when they arrive.

Music pulses through the air, bass shaking the floor beneath their feet. Neon lights flash overhead, bathing the crowd in shifting shades of red, blue, and violet.

The smell of alcohol, perfume, and sweat lingers in the air, a dizzying mix that makes everything feel a little more reckless.

You step inside first, dressed to kill. Your usual effortless confidence is back in full force, like armor you wear to keep the world at bay. You ignore the way people turn to stare—some in admiration, some in jealousy.

Tonight, you don't want to think about Mike.

You don't want to think about the bruises hidden under your makeup.

You don't want to think about Hongjoong.

You just want to forget.

And for the first few minutes, you do.

Your friends pull you onto the dance floor, and for a while, everything is a blur of movement, music, and laughter. San and Mingi keep close, making sure you don't get too lost in the chaos, but actually you don't mind.

Then Seonghwa shows up at your side, sliding an arm around your waist.

“You look dangerous tonight, baby.” He murmurs into her ear, voice rich with amusement.

You smirk, tossing your hair over your shoulder “Always.”

Hwa’s lips curl into a knowing grin “Then let’s dance.”

Meanwhile Hongjoong hadn't planned to be here. He had ignored Wooyoung's first few messages inviting him out, but when he found out that you were going, something inside him told him to show up.

And now, standing near the bar, his jaw clenched as he watches you, he realizes how much of a mistake this was. He is there, regretting his life choices.

He knew he shouldn’t have come.

The second he stepped into the club, he felt like an outsider—like he didn’t belong in this world. The music is too loud, the lights too disorienting. He’s never liked clubs. Never liked the forced energy of it all.

But here he is.

And the reason for that is standing in the middle of the dance floor, looking like a fucking dream.

You.

His stomach tightens at the sight of you—his girl, glowing under the flashing lights, swaying to the music like you were made for it. But you’re not alone.

Park Seonghwa is with you.

And he’s touching you.

Hongjoong’s jaw clenches.

You don’t push him away, you don’t even seem bothered by it. Instead, you tilt your head back, laughing at something Seonghwa says, eyes half-lidded, lips parted just enough to make something ugly coil in Hongjoong’s chest.

He doesn’t know what the hell he’s feeling, but it’s not good.

Something dark. Something possessive.

He forces himself to look away, gripping the drink Mindy shoved into his hand. He takes a sip, barely registering the taste.

"Didn’t think this was your scene, Joong." Mindy remarks, appearing beside him.

Hongjoong exhales slowly, forcing himself to relax "It’s not."

Samantha hums "Then why are you here?"

He doesn’t answer, but they know why.

And that is when shit gets worse.

Because Seonghwa, the bastard that he is, suddenly turns his head, meeting Hongjoong’s gaze across the club.

And he smirks. A slow, taunting smirk.

Then, keeping his eyes on Hongjoong, Hwa leans in closer to you, whispering something in your ear. His hand slides down your back, fingers teasing the hem of your mini dress.

Hongjoong’s grip tightens around his glass.

He’s going to fucking kill him.

✮ ⋆

You aren't drunk—not yet—but there’s a pleasant warmth buzzing in your veins, making it easier to laugh at Seonghwa’s jokes, to let his hand rest on your waist, to let yourself forget about the weight in your chest.

Because when you drink, you don't think.

And right now, you don't want to think about Hongjoong.

But apparently, the universe has other plans.

Because when you tilt your head back to sip your drink, your eyes flicker across the crowd—

And there he is. Standing a few feet away, stiff as a board, his jaw clenched so tight you can see the tension from here.

And worse—he’s staring right at you.

What is he doing here?

You exhale sharply, dragging a hand through your hair, trying to push down the irritation bubbling up. But before you can even decide what to do, Hongjoong is already moving.

Straight towards you.

Seonghwa notices first, of course. His lips curl into a slow smirk, clearly enjoying this, because he lives for chaos.

“Ah, the nerd finally made it,” He muses, taking a lazy sip of his drink “Took you long enough.”

You tense as Hongjoong stops in front of you, his expression unreadable. But his eyes—his eyes are dark, stormy, swirling with something you can’t quite name.

“Get your hands off her.”

His voice isn’t loud, but it cuts through the music, the air between them suddenly thick with tension.

You blink... The fuck?

Seonghwa chuckles, clearly amused, but he doesn’t move his hand from your waist.

“Relax, man. We’re just talking.”

“That’s not what it looks like.” Hongjoong’s fists curl at his sides, and his voice drops lower “I said, get your hands off her.”

The possessiveness in his tone sends a shiver down your spine—because Hongjoong has never spoken like this before. Never had this sharp edge to him.

Hwa tilts his head, looking far too entertained “And if I don’t?”

You groan, already tired of this “Both of you, stop it.”

You push Seonghwa’s hand away yourself, stepping between them before this escalates further.

“What the hell is your problem, Hongjoong?”

“My problem?” He scoffs, his frustration finally boiling over “Are you serious, YN? You’ve been all over him all night!”

You cross your arms “Oh, so now you care what I do after ignoring me for weeks?”

“I haven’t been ignoring you.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh “Really? Because every time I ask you to hang out, you have some excuse. Every single time.”

Hongjoong clenches his jaw, shifting uncomfortably. He wants to tell her the truth—about his job, about why he’s been avoiding her after school—but something holds him back.

And then—Seonghwa just has to add fuel to the fire “Maybe he just doesn’t want to spend time with you, baby.”

You stiffen, and Hongjoong snaps.

His glare cuts straight to the tallest “You don’t get to talk about us like you know anything.”

Seonghwa shrugs, smirking “I don’t need to. It’s obvious, isn’t it? One minute, YN’s your whole world, and the next? You’re running away.” He clicks his tongue “I’d be pissed too, if I were her.”

Hongjoong turns back to you, desperate now, he softly grabs your wrist.

"Come with me."

"What the hell—"

"Now." He snaps, dragging you out of the packed dance floor and into a dimly lit hallway near the bathrooms.

You yank your arm away once they stop "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

“I’m not running away, It’s not like that, pretty.”

You shake your head “Then what is it like, Kim? Because I’m sick of feeling like I don’t matter to you the second school ends.”

“You do matter to me,” He insists, his hands twitching like he wants to reach for you, but something stops him “I just—”

“Just what?”

And then—he blurts it out “I’m not the one all over another guy, YN.”

The words are bitter, sharp, dripping with jealousy.

You inhale sharply, eyes widening.

Hongjoong’s chest rises and falls rapidly, his emotions a mess—anger, jealousy, frustration, all tangled up.

Your lips part, but for once—you don't know what to say.

And for a moment, you just stand there.

Staring at each other.

Two stubborn storms on the verge of collision.

And neither of you willing to back down.

His words linger between you, and it stings in a way you weren't expecting.

Because he 's wrong.

And yet, you can’t deny that Seonghwa complicates things.

“Well,” You muses, swirling the drink in your hand like this is just another game to you “If you’re so bothered, why don’t you do something about it, nerd?”

He knows you are playing with him right now, but Hongjoong—Hongjoong is already on edge, already fueled by emotions he doesn’t know how to handle, and your words only push him further.

And before you can stop him, he does something about it.

He grabs your waist, pulling you to him—not rough, not aggressive, but firm.

It’s possessive.

And before you can process it his lips are on yours.

It’s not careful. Not gentle.

It’s desperate.

It’s frustration, jealousy, and something deeper, something neither of you have put into words yet.

And the worst part?

You melt into it.

Because for all of Hongjoong’s insecurities, for all of his awkwardness, he kisses you like he means it.

Like he needs you.

Like you’re his and his alone.

And for a brief, dizzying moment, you let yourself believe it.

When you break apart, Hongjoong’s breathing is uneven, his grip on your waist still lingering.

And that’s when reality crashes back in.

Because this kiss doesn’t fix anything.

It doesn’t erase the distance between you.

Or the secrets he’s still keeping.

And the realization twists something ugly inside of you.

You push him away slightly, your frustration boiling over “I don’t get you, Hongjoong,” You bite out, taking a step closer, your eyes narrowing “You act like you care, like you want to be with me, but when it actually matters—when I need you, when I want to be with you—you push me away!”

Hongjoong opens his mouth to protest, but you cut him off, your voice rising.

“Why don’t you just admit it, huh?” You sneer. “You fuck with me because you know I’m popular, right? You just want that—to be seen with the girl everyone knows—so you can brag about it to your friends and tell them you’re the one who’s got me.”

His expression falters, and for a moment, you think you see a flicker of guilt or disbelief in his eyes.

But you don’t care.

“You don’t actually give a damn about me, do you?” You spit out “You just want the status, the validation. I’m just another trophy to you.”

Hongjoong’s face hardens, his hands curling into fists "YN, stop."

You let out a bitter laugh "Why? Because you don’t want to hear the truth?"

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his expression.

"That’s not the truth," He says, his voice lower now, more controlled "You think I care about that? About popularity? I told you that day at the amusement park, I did it just because I want to be with you. I don’t give a damn about what anyone else thinks—I just want you."

You shake your head, crossing your arms "Bullshit."

"It’s not bullshit," Hongjoong steps closer, eyes locked onto yours "I like you, YN. I really like you. And I don’t care if you’re popular or if the whole school hates you—I’d still feel the same way."

You swallow hard, but the ache in your chest doesn’t go away. His words sound good.

Too good.

"If that’s true," You murmur, looking away, "Then why do you keep avoiding me?”

Hongjoong looks pained, like he wants to tell you something but can’t.

"It’s not like that, I—"

"Then what is it like?" You demand, voice cracking "Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you’re only with me when it’s convenient for you."

"I would do anything for you. Anything, YN. But you won’t even let me prove it."

You inhale sharply, feeling your resolve shake for just a second. But then you remember the countless times he’s avoided you, dodged your calls, made excuses.

And you shake your head "I don’t believe you."

His face drops "YN…"

"No," You cut him off, stepping back "If you really meant that, you wouldn’t keep making me feel like I’m not enough."

Hongjoong stares at you, chest rising and falling like he’s struggling to find the right words, but whatever he wants to say—it’s too late.

Because you’re already turning around, walking away before he can break your heart even more.

He stands there, watching you disappear into the flashing lights and the haze of smoke, feeling you slip even further away.

And just a few feet away, hidden among the crowd—From the shadows, Seonghwa leans against the wall, watching the entire exchange with an amused smirk.

Everything is going exactly as planned.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

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𓇼 𝘈𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘻 𝘍𝘪𝘤 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘌𝘱.𝘍𝘪𝘷𝘦! 𓇼 𓆞 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𓆞 𓇼 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴/𝘈𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴/𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𓇼 𓇼 𝘰𝘵8/𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Bf!Ateez Texts - @littlexbunni ot8 x reader (texts) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Case: It's You [Book One] [Book Two] - @potatomountain detective!poly!ot8 x detective!reader (series) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Comfort Texts - @srslyscary ot8 x reader (texts) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Compromise - @cyberpxnk bf!seonghwa x reader x soccer player!yunho (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Défilé De Lingerie - @/bro-atz lingerie designer!san x lingerie model!reader x lingerie tailor!mingi (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘬𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 Deal With The Devil - @hoeforalbedo priest!hongjoong x reader (series) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Destiny - @k-zuzu idol!hongjoong x idol!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Do Not Touch - @bandgie death!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Duck Curtains - @ichorai roommate!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Enough - @mingsolo idol!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢 𓇼 𓆞 Essence - @whatudowhennooneseesyou siren!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Gently Giant - @jagibangbangchan whale mershark!seonghwa x mermaid!reader ft.pirate!ateez (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Got A Fur Coat, So I Make It Purr - @velvetydream idol!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Just A Few More Minutes - @skrrts stay-at-home dad!seonghwa x mom!reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Know Your Place - @xosannie idol!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘫𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓆞 Early Bird Gets The Worm - @ja3hwa bf!yunho x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Emotion Verte - @altxrrmelancholy bf!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Hail To The King - @sweetinsaniiity king!yunho x ex-princess!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Head Empty, Mouth Full - @xosannie bf!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Lesson Plans - @callmeagardengnome professor!yunho x teaching assistant!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸

𓇼 𝘬𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 Perfect Opportunity - @mingi-s-dimples bf!idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Princess Fluffy-Cupcake-Sparkles - @seonghw4ffles non-idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Never Yours - @daceydeath idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Riding The Heat - @xomakara alpha!idol!yeosang x omega!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Sleepy Head - @sugawhaaa bf!yeosang x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘯 𓇼 𓆞 Diet Pepsi - @loserlvrss bf!san x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Dream Come True - @makeitmingi dad!idol!san x mom!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Facade Of Perfection [Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] - @koyagifs ceo!san x reader (three parts) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Guilty Pleasure | Follow You - @orshii priest!san x reader (two-parts) 𓆞 𓆞 Handy - @hausofwoo maintenance man!san x tenant!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Good Morning - @yuyusshinelight dad!husband!idol!mingi x mom!wife!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Happy Birthday to Us - @freyaphoria yandere!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Heat Stroke - @sluttywonwoo bf!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 His Chérie - @xuchiya idol!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Lip Gloss - @loserlvrss friend!mingi x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 Day Off - @cyberseong bf!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Décolletage - @daddyfordaeddy servant!wooyoung x lady!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Don't Save Her (She Don't Wanna Be Saved) - @lunardragon00 peasant!wooyoung x princess!reader (series) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Forbidden Fruit - @astrasng idol!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Fractured Promises - @koyagifs ceo!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓆞 Screeching Tires and Blood Stains - @daceydeath mafia!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Second Chance at Love - @xomakara single dad!widow!jongho x nanny!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Secretary Jongho Headcanon - @rems-writing secretary!jongho × ceo!reader (headcanon) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Sneaky - @hwallazia ceo!jongho x office worker!reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Stars - @beenbaanbuun bf!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸

𓇼 𝘈𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘻 𝘍𝘪𝘤 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘌𝘱.𝘍𝘰𝘶𝘳! 𓇼 𓆞 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𓆞 𓇼 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴/𝘈𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴/𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𓇼 𓇼 𝘰𝘵8/𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 A Cup Of Care - @woncon poly!woosan x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Ad Astra per Aspera - @alxtiny pirate!ot8 x navigator!reader (series) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Ateez as Disney Princes - @edenesth disney prince!ot8 x disney princess!reader (scenarios) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Ateez Meeting Single Mom Reader [Part One] [Part Two] - @reallychaoticwoo ot8 x single mom!reader (scenarios) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Ateez When Their S/o Gives Them Cuteness Aggression - @elllisaaa ot8 x reader (scenarios) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘬𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Anything You Could Do, I Could Do Better! - @pyeonghongrie teacher!hongjoong x teacher!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Back Off! I’m Married - @solaris-amethyst non-idol!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Behind Closed Doors - @domm1etae idol!hongjoong x idol!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Boy With The Pearl Necklace - @hongjoongtime117 idol!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Day & Night - @youngies-bae predebut!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 16.51 - @itstheghostofmypast bf!university student!seonghwa x university student!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 [23.27] - @yizhou-time non-idol!seonghwa x reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Beneath The Candlelight - @atzaurora bf!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Breakfast - @littlefireball bf!seonghwa x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Dirty My Ride - @starminzoo rider!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘫𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓆞 Boyfriend - @notsoverymerry bf!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Communion - @kitten4sannie priest!yunho x nun!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Did You Like Her In The Morning?, Yunho | Die With A Smile, Yunho - @halaboyz bf!yunho x reader (two povs) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Don’t Smile - @tyungelic ex!yunho x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Drunk - @sweetiesicheng non-idol!yunho x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸

𓇼 𝘬𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Behind The Eyes - @srslyscary non-idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Chicken Date - @augustbutwinter non-idol!yeosang x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Don't Forget About Me - @idyllic-ghost idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Fever - @beenbaanbuun bf!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Jennifer’s Body!Yeosang - @justaaveragereader jennifer!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘯 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 3:03 am - @323cutie bf!san x reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Baby, Love Me Lights Out - @hongjoongspoetry idol!san x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Choi San As Associate Professor - @melsvt associate professor!fiancee!san x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Crimson - @hwaslayer non-idol!san x stripper!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Destined To Be A Girl Dad - @makeitmingi dad!san x mom!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 3:07am - @/cheryrri bf!mingi x reader (timestamp) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Broken Doll - @freyaphoria yandere!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Cold Red Iron - @bvidzsoo iron man!mingi x secretary!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Dinner Table - @mingi-s-dimples bf!non-idol!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Friends To Lovers With Mingi - @lxvemaze friend!idol!mingi x reader (texts) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 Almost Home - @shadowkoo bf!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Better Make This Quick - @xosannie non-idol!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Craving The Storm - @atzaurora bf!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Crown Heist - @srslyscary thief!wooyoung x queen!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Cyberpunk's Bartender - @rems-writing bartender!wooyoung x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓆞 Back From The Dead - @essenteez vampire!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Finding Our Way Back - @03jyh23 ex-bf!idol!jongho x ex-gf!single-mom!reader (series) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Mr. CEO - @/milkandhwaney ceo!jongho x employee!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 My Comfort Is You - @crimsonbubble dilf!jongho x reader (drabble) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Punk Jongho Headcanon - @rems-writing punk!jongho × sweetheart!reader (headcanon) 𓈒𓏸