SYNOPSIS.after spending months suffering from amnesia in the hospital due to an “accident,” you return back to your normal school life where your close friends who you remember stick by your side 24/7. Unexpectedly, you cross paths with ex-student council president yang jungwon, who you failed to remember but feel oddly drawn to. however, after the meeting things start to get odd and you slowly begin piecing together the mystery behind your accident.
a/n: please lmk how your thoughts my ask box is literally in drought season. 7 more chapters!
summary. “jake knew he could be the most horrible being on earth and your too-big, too-empathetic eyes could still look at him adoringly. like he still held the moons and stars in his palms and you would cherish him for it.”
pairing.y/n x enhypen’s jake
genre. broken relationship!au
word count.2k.
warnings. gender neutral!reader, swearing, weed, mention of drugs and drinking, they don’t know how to communicate… lol
inspo.savior complex by phoebe bridgers.
|—————|
FROM THE OPEN bathroom door and its faint amber light, the fuzzy silhouette clears sharper as he approaches it adjacent to the bed you lie in, palms touching and tucked under your cheek.
Your eyes should burn from the long workday you’ve had, from the amount of TV you watched, lukewarm microwave dinner leaving marks of steam on the thrifted coffee table. But your eyelids stress to stay creased as you hear the clack of those heavy black boots exit the bathroom to finally reach the bed frame.
Jake knows that you’re awake so he doesn’t try to avoid making sounds or hide the fact he brought a blunt in. Knows that you stay awake for him to come home and that he barely made it before four A.M. today. Almost made you tug the thin sheets back off your body to call to Jay, see whether he had gotten wasted and crashed at his house or had finally gotten hauled to the county jail cell.
It’s exactly 3:58 and you know because you’ve been counting in your head. You’ve gotten good at it after all these months.
Sensing the ruffle of tough fabric as him shrugging his jacket off, it lands with a loud clunk against the metal stand of the lamp in the corner. You can smell the weed and tequila as he sits on his side of the bed, a few feet away from you.
The desire to nag, to get Jake to shower, brush his teeth, and tell him to come home earlier next time has died on your tongue recently. You wish you could wrangle the strength to fight again but it’s too tiring. More tiring than staying up and waiting for the familiar struggle of his dented keys scratching marks on the apartment lock.
His upper body flies back to hit the stiff mattress, head hitting the soles of your feet crammed under the blankets in a fetal position. He wiggles his head so that it tucks between your heels and your ass, a makeshift pillow for the blasting headache you know Jake always gets when he crossfades.
A calloused hand blindly pats up to your space, fingertips finally landing on your hair and tangling in the mess for the sensation. A rush of smoke enters your peripheral from a puff he takes deeply and you finally twist your head.
“Jake. Finish it outside and come to bed.”
A sigh is the answer you get.
He waits for you to shift, to start repeating yourself and slowly build to that anger you’ve got buried within this crumbling foundation you two have been nestling for a year but… it doesn’t come. It hasn’t come all week for some reason.
But he can still hear it now.
“Jake, go. Go, I hate the smell. Go. Shower and come back to me. Come back to us.”
He’s exaggerating with the last sentence. Maybe it’s what he hopes he would hear. To know that you don’t just tolerate his broken self, that you want to go back to the ways things were before everything went wrong.
Jake’s ears catch the pillow sink and for your hair to pull away from his loose grasp as you turn from him again. His heart pumps louder, threatening to spill out of his chest. He can hear it pound on his eardrums, the thrumming from the ceiling fan in the center of the one-room apartment reaching his consciousness somehow and making the nerves along his forearms itch.
With a heave getting up, he snuffs out the short blunt and tosses it on the ashtray by his bedside table. Dusting off the ashes from his fingers, blunt nails scrape on his hairline and then he hops in his seat to pull the blankets from under his weight and the coldly patted space.
Jake runs a hand down your curled side as another attempt. Somewhere within the haze of his mind, his sober self is very much panicked at the sight he’s been dreading for a while. It looks like the time has finally come where you’ve pulled away from him.
He could wake up tomorrow, find your side empty for the last time. Not because you left for work early, or to get aspirin and a Gatorade for his hangover soon, or get him breakfast before you headed to your 9 to 5.
No… you’d be gone from his life forever.
And usually, you’d sink into his frame. Try to treasure the small amount of intimacy he used to so freely provide, no matter whether or not your boyfriend was inebriated. But you don’t move back at all.
He puts so much effort to silence the noises of the yells on the street level outside, the howling of the sharp winds this starry night, that creaking faucet in the bathroom, and that stupid fucking fan.
Just to hear your breathing and see if it’s evened out. It is.
And Jake can’t force himself to sink back into your hold either.
|—————|
The whimpers behind your back wake you.
You would’ve figured that Jake had moved to the living room if he was going to have his nightmares but he’s laid beside you by dawn when your eyes crack open. The weight of his arm warms your side and you wonder when he slinked over to you, finally tempted to breach the unspoken boundary between you two since last Sunday.
Sitting up, you note the beads of sweat on Jake’s forehead, the strands of hair darkened and matted to his wet face.
You shake him lightly, a tone of worry laced in your groggy voice. “Jake? Jake?”
Getting more panicked at his mumbles, lips downturned and nose slope scrunched in the agony of his usual night terrors, you tug the blankets off his body. Cupping his face and slapping lightly does nothing to snap him out. His legs start kicking and you climb over his chest.
“Baby, wake up. Baby. Baby, wake up, please.”
Swearing under your breath when you tug the sheets off him, the neck of his white tee is drenched clear. Your hand places a palm to his forehead and it feels like nearing a hot stove. Looking around quickly, you handle a three-day-old water bottle, twist the cap open, and pour it over his face.
Jake gasps, eyes wide open in shock and nearly uplifting your entire body off his figure as he bolts into an upright position. Grasping onto his shoulders and desperately trying to peer into his eyes, your trials to calm him down don’t connect in his mind.
Jumping off the bed and struggling to tug your heavy boyfriend out, you expend massive amounts of energy to drag him to the bathroom, fumbling with knobs until the shower runs on and you push Jake off the edge of the tub into cooling water.
Time moves in slow motion for him, eyelids clenched shut as he plunges backward into the icy droplets. They drench him, sucking the air out of his tight lungs and forcing a puff of alcoholic breath and fog in his mind to burst like a bubble.
The blurriness in his irises fades and when Jake looks up at you, a shot of anxiety snaps in your throat, seizing it for no air to come sucking into your chest. Those wide eyes, so familiar from the beginning of your relationship, stare back at you. Crouching on the floor, your own irises and tough swallow are taken in by Jake’s overbearing gaze.
“Are you alright?”
It takes several seconds before Jake reaches over to push the knob off, slouching in the tub, legs hanging out and heavy lashes blinking sluggishly once more.
“What did you take tonight?”
Irrational fury flashes in the brown eyes you had seen soften earlier at the sight of you. Watching it die out for him to lash out makes your heart sink.
He’s defensive. “Nothing. Nothing different.”
“Then why…?” Your confused and mellow voice further infuriates him.
He had fallen asleep with the thoughts of waking up without you in his life anymore, pushing the pain away with slumber but here you were.
So loyal and loving and caring like you always were with him. Jake knew he could be the most horrible being on Earth and your too-big, too-empathetic eyes could still look at him adoringly. Like he still held the moons and stars in his palms and you would cherish him for it.
“Go to bed.” Jake’s hands slip as he clutches the edge of the tub, yanking himself up with a stumble.
You stand with him, nimble hands out to clutch the hem of his soaked tee, “Wait until your temperature goes down, I’ll get a change of clothes—”
“No,” He interrupts, cold glare serious and closed off, “Go to bed.”
Swallowing the rejection, you can only be still like a statue as Jake uses the sink counter to steady before his wet feet slap to the bed and then the drawers scrape against wood.
As you slowly approach the mattress again, you eye the pillowed space you two share. A lighter sits on Jake’s case. It forces your throat to tighten, then you look at the pile on the ashtray.
The sick smell sticks to your clothes, even if you do everything to get rid of it. Do everything to stop it from infiltrating this apartment and infiltrating Jake’s head. Infiltrate and replace you as a way to release his stress.
Whatever had messed with him so bad in the first place has torn what used to be your home apart.
You’re so tired.
Jake stills at the sound of a sniffle. And when he looks over to your corner, you’re turned around and wiping at your cheeks. Guilt and exasperation mix to bring forth his exasperated voice.
“Y/N,whatare you crying about?”
Your voice warbles and you despise it for doing so.
“Nothing.” Climbing back under the sheets, you face away from him again. Jake can’t stand it.
Placing a knee on the bed, he bends over you to clutch your shoulder.
“Y/N, don’t lie to me, come on. Why are you crying? I didn’t fucking take anything other than weed tonight. I promised you that before—”
Your shrug to get him off causes his fingers to limp on your figure. “Jake, change. Just change.”
He wants to fight. Wants to see you react with something other than dismalness so Jake continues.
“I did. I did, I changed my shirt—”
“No,everything,” You turn, now fully pushing his hand away from your body, “I can’t stand the smell—”
“It’sweed, Y/N! Surely you’ve fucking gotten used to it by now—”
“I don’t care, Jake, pleasejust listen to me and change—”
“I’vechanged!I’ve fucking changed—!”
You stand, unable to lay and take it anymore. Unplugging your phone from its charger, you pocket it and grab your bag as well. Jake follows, lips twisted at your sudden movement.
“Where are you going?”
Shrugging on your jacket from the coat rack and dipping to slip on your sneakers, he swallows roughly in your space, crowding with panic and confusion in his tone while he calls your name repeatedly.
“I can’t. I can’t tonight, I can’t do it.”
It’s all you can say to excuse yourself, the wet trails on your cheeks continuing to flow as Jake gets louder and louder. He attempts to close the front door and stop you but you wait patiently and don’t fight him, only able to shut your eyelids tight and pray for him to get the clue.
You couldn’t muster the energy to scream or protest or anything else you would usually do.
Was this the last straw?
The flurry of noise in your ears fades when Jake digs his nails into your forearms, firmly grasping them and uprooting your feet to bring you close to his big frame. At the tenseness and uneasiness in your expression, he cracks.
He lets go after several seconds of scrutinizing the tears he’s caused to leak from your eyes. Watching your tight swallow and attempt to seem collected, his heart clenches.
“I’ll crash at Eunha’s.”
“Don’t. Stay. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Ican’tbe in the same room right now, Jake!” Your sudden desperation makes him jerk back.
He takes several seconds to pull a meek, “Okay,” from his cracked lips.
You’re too exhausted to feel bad about the harshness of your words. Sighing, Jake pushes his back against the wall to get out the way of the front door and you twist the knob, leaving.
Jake feels his headache return tenfold. The fan keeps going and at the registering of the fucking annoying noise in his head, he stumbles to the middle of your shared one-room apartment, yanking on the thin metal chain for the fan to stop whirling.
All things came to a halt. The apartment sits frozen except for the frustrated breath that escapes Jake’s lips as he hears your feet walk farther and farther away from him.
PRECIS. the chances of you confessing to your crush sums to zero when you realise you have to pretend to have a crush on sunghoon, just to help your friend hide her feelings for the ice prince.
or, alternatively, in which you borrow an eraser from your friend, yi kyeong, which has sunghoon’s name written on it ( or so you think ) so, when the mentioned boy sees it, you have no other choice but to lie that you have a crush on him to avoid disclosing your friend’s secret.
GENRE. humour, fluff, angst if you squint hard enough, coming of age
after much consideration, you’ve reached the conclusion that you haven’t fallen for sunghoon. your heart is skipping beats because of arrhythmia and you’re persuading your mom to get you an appointment.
you simply can’tfall for sunghoon. he’s way out of your league ( see, you’re not shy to admit that ) besides, you don’t know each other. you don’t know about him but to you, sunghoon is just an ideal classmate, or a close acquaintance, or simply a friend, at most. moreover, here comes the best friend’s code : you can’t crush on your best friend’s crush, let alone date. you sleep with your guilt plagued mind everyday, knowing you and sunghoon are in ‘love’ behind your best friend’s back.
“yn,” you feel a push towards your shoulders, driving you out of your thoughts to find sunoo looking at you with concern written all over his face. “what are you thinking?”
you shake your head. “nothing,” another lie. well, you’ve been lying a lot recently. you don’t remember creating high walls of lies around you in just a few days, with only sunghoon knowing the way in, but again he’s looking at another lie you’ve made him believe.
“take a break if you need to. the play will start in a few minutes,” right, the play. you’re excited to see sunghoon and kyeong steal the show. you’re dying to see them receive best actors award for the night. you’re dying to have the annual school magazine print their picture on the front page. you’re excited for them, or so you tell yourself.
it’s embarrassing to know that somewhere inside, you feel a little bitter about the whole crew picking sunghoon without any recrutionary procedure. you don’t think he’s a bad actor, god, you can never. you haven’t seen him act but there’s nothing that boy can’t do. there’s a rumour spinning about how his mother was one of the best actors in Seoul’s best theatre crew. though, you don’t know how much of it is true.
but, that’s beyond the point. you don’t need to find his family history to know that he’s talented in all aspects. it’s crazy how similar sunghoon and yi kyeong are. you’re about to discard all those thoughts and continue with the procedure until you hear the commotion in the hallway.
“we have— oh my god, yn, thank god you’re here.” jake takes a breath of relief, walking towards you with a hopeful stare. “sunghoon has sprained his leg, we need a replacement.”
now, that isn’t the issue you want to deal with around ten minutes before the play. “what am i supposed to do about it?”
“do you know someone who can fit the role?” he questions further.
you’d be lying if you say you’re actually thinking of someone as a replacement, for your brain is too busy worrying about sunghoon as his injury. call it the godsent timing, because just then, your eyes fall upon the boy standing across the room. “how about seonghwa?”
“what? who, me? no,” he declines with an awkward laugh. “i have terrible stage fear. i’m sure no one wants to see a prince charming with overflowing anxiety.” yeah no, he’s right. besides, yi kyeong will be upset to know that not only she’s working with a substitute prince charming, but also, he has chronic anxiety.
“but they want a handsome prince charming.” jake isn’t half wrong either. they never held auditions for prince charming, proceeding to pick sunghoon as if the rest of the population is a joke. hence, the audience doesn’t care about skills, but rather, the looks. “just practise your scenes. we’ll pre-record your lines and schedule the play as the closing show.”
jake turns to look at you. “yn, can you please—”
“i’m sorry, do you know where sunghoon is?” the question falls off your lips almost immediately, without giving him any chance to speak. you hear something along the lines of ‘school backyard’ as a responseand sprint as if it’s the race for your life.
it’s basic human decency, you presume. had it been someone else, someone you haven’t even seen, you would still run, almost tripping and bumping into people. you would still grab a bunch of bandages and relief sprays from the medkit in the staff room if this were about someone else. it’s not just sunghoon, you tell yourself. he’s not special, especially to you.
“geez, did you forget to walk to something?” you snicker as soon as you spot him sitting by the stairs, browsing through what looked like twitter at the slight glance you managed to steal.
sunghoon chuckles, stuffing his phone inside the pocket of his padded coat. “you look tired.”
“yeah, i ran from the other side of the school and almost tripped thrice on my way here.” you feel him snicker at the irritation in your voice while you take a look at his ankles and start dressing— by the way, you notice that he has pretty toenails; and after recalling how pretty his fingers look, it makes you wonder if he gets his mani-pedi done every week or so. “gosh, do teachers know that their favourite student can’t even walk to save his life?”
“are you worri—”
“of course, i am!” and then a pause; sunghoon flaunts a taunting smirk in your direction and you realise how punchable his face looks. “i mean, anyonewould be worried. what if it’s a fracture instead? they treat you like a national treasure, everyone will go crazy.”
you’re not wrong.
everyone in the school, or even outside the institutional premises if possible, treasures sunghoon more than their lives. you still remember the day minhee took the blame on her after sunghoon accidently broke the principal’s bonsai, only for him to thank her by saying that she’s like his younger sister. long story short, there are numerous tales about people vouching for him and what not— it’s exhausting. the point is how big of a breaking news it would be when his ‘fans’ will know that sunghoon hurt himself and won’t be attending school for the next couple of days, probably. you wonder if people will still watch the play once they know that their beloved sunghoon isn’t the male lead anymore.
“how long do you think it’ll take to heal?” it’s an attempt to strike a conversation and you’re glad sunghoon took the initiative. you were starting to feel embarrassed with his ankles in your hand.
“hm, three days? or four? maybe a weak? depends on how well you’re taking care of yourself.”
“four days,” another pause, he tends to think before tapping on your shoulder, making you look up at him. “do you want to go on a date with me?”
it’s like you’ve experienced culture shock. “what?”
“what? we have one due from the last time,” he smirks again, and you realise that he has been smirking a lot late. it’s beyond extents and makes you want to wipe that smirk off his face. “so, do you want to, you know, four days later?”
it’s back, the arrhythmia. you seriously need to get yourself checked before cardiac arrest knocks on your door. oh, and you’d love to punch his good for nothing handsome face but you don’t, maybe because he’s injured. after all, how is a man supposed to live with a broken leg and nose?
“looks like you’ve hit your head too.” you stand up, handing him the remaining bandages before storming off the venue. little did you know that your cheek started heating up the moment you looked into his eyes.
“hey, you didn’t give me an answer!” and you don’t want to either. you walk away, assuming someone would come and assist him to the main building because if you stay next to him for another second, you’ll go crazy. you absolutely hate coming to terms with your feelings but maybe, maybe you do have slight infatuation with sunghoon; and maybe, you need to get onto it with kyeong before it’s too late.
.
.
.
“and the last scene? i was screaming internally—”
“can we talk?” you interrupt kyeong, partly because your ears will bleed if you heard another word about how ecstatic acting with seonghwa was and partly because you actuallywant to talk.
she stops, slight nervousness settling on her face. “yeah, sure.”
“about your crush,” it’s just three words and you’re already willing to leave the conversation taking place on your own accord. “okay, all i’m saying is that i like him too. i’m sorry, please don’t be mad.”
and then you hear her laugh, out of everything. a part of you wants to scream because you just disclosed an important info, something you don’t even want to acknowledge yourself, and she’s laughing. moreover, it’s about the love of her life. your friendship is at stake and she’s laughing. perhaps you have a broken humour for not getting the joke.
“why would i be mad?” you blink, wondering if you heard her right. not like you were expecting her to go off and beat you in the middle of the street at 9 pm, but there’s always a chance. “i don’t think i have a chance with him either way. so, i’ll just root for you.”
this is why you think sunghoon and yi kyeong are perfect for each other. they both are nice, literal saints, embodiments of kindness, not a vile cell inside of them. as for you, you had your sibling’s snack last evening and stepped on your mom’s foot while running away across the household. you don’t think sunghoon has even stepped on an ant. instead, he seems the type to help them navigate or something.
“i feel bad now that you’re giving up,” you confess, and it’s true. probably the truest truth you’ve said so far. you feel frustration pent up inside you, threatening to overflow any second. “why did i have to fall for sunghoon out of all the people?!”
“wait, sunghoon?” kyeong asks, dumbfounded, or rather, confused.
“yes, we’re talking about sunghoon, right?” okay, you don’t have a good feeling about the direction this conversation is heading towards.
“no?” she clarifies and the look on your face morphs into visible panic. “i don’t like sunghoon.”
“what?” you yell, turning a few passing heads towards you. however, you pay them no mind. “i thought you liked sunghoon because of the name on your eraser. p-s-h, park sunghoon, it makes sense!”
kyeong shakes her head in denial. “no, it’s p-s-h, park seonghwa. i like seonghwa and not sunghoon!”
an awkward pause follows. it’s a mess inside your head. you abso-fucking-lutely can’t believe the way you misunderstood the whole situation, and got yourself into a problem with seemingly no way out. you could’ve asked her about the eraser but you didn’t, proceeding to make your own assumptions and ending up in an even bigger issue.
yi kyeong gasps, pulling you out of your thoughts. “oh my god, then you have a crush on sunghoon?” that phrase doesn’t surprise you anymore. “i thought you liked sunoo.”
maybe, that surprises you a bit. you remember fawning over sunoo, thinking about him all day, reading and re-reading your conversations with him. being with sunoo has always been the highlight of your day, yet you don’t recall thinking about him ever since sunghoon walked into your life. you didn’t seem to mind when sunoo hung out with other people but you feel as if you have a knife by your neck whenever you spot sunghoon with others.
you simply don’t know what’s happening to you. “yeah, uh, surprise?” and this isn’t the time to laugh but you do, trying to lighten the burden on your shoulders. “i’m not really sure if i like sunghoon yet.” liar, you are. you may deny it till the end of the time but you know you’re falling for sunghoon; slowly and gradually, but you are.
“didn’t you just say you like sunghoon, though?” she smirks as if she can see through the lies you tell yourself. “well, whatever. at least, we don’t have to be love rivals.” yeah, maybe there’s onegood thing about this whole situation. imagine having a crush on your best friend’s crush, embarrassing. but again, being in this situation built over misunderstandings is even more embarrassing, it’s eating you out.
at this point, you don’t even care about you, or your so-called reputation if someone discloses this whole thing to the public. you don’t care about sunoo, nor do you give two flying fucks to your seemingly dead feelings for him. you only have one thing on your mind : park sunghoon.
it isn’t about how you feel towards him. you’re still in the maybestage. perhaps, you don’t like sunghoon and this is just your fatigued brain coming up with bizzare conclusions. you remember falling for sunghoon the day he walked you home. however, the next day, you were back to normal. you didn’t remember shit about butterflies and zoos. perhaps, it’s the same this time as well. so, you don’t care about your feelings, but you can’t seem to ignore how he feels towards you.
to sunghoon, who doesn’t have any idea about the truth lying within, every second of this is true. every moment, every step, every word, every touch, every gaze, every smile, everything. he thinks you like him. no, actually, he’s convinced that you like him. and sunghoon being the kindest person on earth is trying his best to like you back, to know you beyondeveryone else’s perception of who you are. he greets you every morning over texts and bids you good night. he asks if you’re doing okay, if you need help with assignments, if you’re down for an evening stroll— he’s giving hiseverything; and you always turn his advances down, never daring to cross the wall you’ve created between you and him.
sunghoon takes one step towards you, and you take four away from him.
kyeong bids her goodbyes at the intersection from where you both have opposite ways home. you had planned to spend the night at her place, only for your mother to refuse, saying she has a few things she needs to talk to you about. you halt at the intersection, staring and sighing at the night sky, contemplating how mess of a life you have as if it isn’t the consequences of your own actions.
“yn?” you close your eyes. now is not the time. sunoo is like the last person you want to see tonight. “what are you looking at?” he chuckles, mirroring your actions as he follows your gaze and looks up at the empty night sky as well.
“your mom,” he frowns at your reply, sending a sour stare your way. sunoo isn’t the biggest supporter of your mom jokes, actually. “what are you doing here? didn’t you leave for home long ago?”
“yes but,” he pulls out what seems like your scarf from his bag, handing it out to you. “you forgot this. sunghoon said he would’ve given it to you himself but his leg … you know. don’t be sad that your boyfriend couldn’t make it, though. he said he’d be at school tomorrow.”
boyfriend, right. it feels odd hearing it from sunoo, and you and sunghoon aren’t even dating yet. would he still be able to say those words with ease if he knew you have a crush on him, or rather, usedto? overthinking apart, you’re glad sunoo came to return your scarf or your mother wouldn’t have let you inside tonight. it doesn’t take you realise that sunghoon and sunoo are actually close, and they have gotten even closer over the past few days thanks to you and your crush on sunghoon.
maybe, sunoo is the only one who can help you out. “can i ask you about something?” he nods, and you narrate your whole story about how you borrowed the eraser from yi kyeong, sunghoon misunderstanding the setting, the person kyeong actually has a crush on and everything else, all the things except the fact that you like sunoo— usedto.
“can you get more stupid?” that’s the first thing sunoo comes up with after you update him on your dilemma.
“how am istupid when sunghoon assumed everything in the first place?” you slap his arm playfully, earning an exaggerated response. “what should i do?”
sunoo scoffs. “tell him the truth.” god, no, asking him was the wrong-est move you’ve ever made. “don’t look at me like that! i hope you know you’re basically playing with that poor boy’s feelings.” that’s right. that’s the phrase; playing with his feelings. you didn’t want to accept it initially, you’re not the type to play with anyone’s feelings and what’s happening right now is a big misunderstanding.
however, hearing it from sunoo makes it sound even worse. not to mention, you feel awful. you try to imagine sunghoon’s reaction after you tell him the truth. you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. what would you do if you were in his shoes? how would you react? maybe you’d end up actually hating him, scream and shout, act like a dramatic bitch, and whatnot; but sunghoon doesn’t seem the type to do that. he doesn’t come off as someone who’d shout at you. maybe, he’ll say it’s okay, and thank you for coming clean, and move on as if nothing happened.
the problem is, even if he’s heartbroken, he wouldn’t let you know; and you, being yourself, would believe it and stamp him as just another passerby in your life.
“how do i bring it up to him?” you mumble, looking at sunoo. you’re thinking of another excuse in the back of your head. something along the lines of ‘hey, i don’t think you have to force yourself to like me yada yada—’ it sounds hella generous. you don’t want to turn this in your favour. even if sunghoon claims he’s not forcing himself to like you, you will convince him otherwise. that’s your thought process, your silly way out of this situation.
“just be straightforward.” sunoo interrupts your trail of thoughts. “you know, he lives just a street behind yours so if we hurry, we can make it before ten.” you take a look at your phone screen : 9:50pm. sunoo’s hand slips into yours as he sprints towards sunghoon’s house. you don’t know what time has to do with any of these. sure, ten at night is probably not the right timing to go visit someone but still, you have had your friends stand out of your window at two in the morning for impromptu midnight escapades.
maybe, sunghoon is one of those ‘good boys’ who goes to bed at ten sharp, without excuses. to be honest, it sounds very sunghoon-like. dinner at seven, studies following, and then to bed at ten, seems like something the one and only park sunghoon would do.
before you realise, you find yourself standing in front of what is supposed to be sunghoon’s house. it’s nice, beautiful, even. the garden is well maintained and you wonder if he’s into gardening. sunoo shoots a call to sunghoon, who peeks down at the street through his window just a few seconds later, waving at you before disappearing behind the grey curtains.
it’s cute, you think, and then decide that you’re crazy. no way, you just called park sunghoon cute. sure, you find him a bit interesting but not like you have a passionate crush on him. you can be one of those fans, nothing more.
a girl opens the door and you recall that she could be his sister. he talks about her every time you both complain about siblings. sunghoon helps himself down the stairs, using wall as support while his sister aids him shortly. you wonder if this is a wrong time to meet him. his ankle doesn’t look bad, not like you can actually see it, but back at school, he wasn’t even able to move it.
“how’s your leg?” the question falls off your lips instinctively, without giving him or sunoo, a chance to even breath in each other’s direction.
sunghoon smiles, looking down at his ankles before setting his eyes back on you. “quite better.” involuntarily, you reciprocate his smile, nodding before waving at his sister as well, who excuses herself shortly. “would you like to come in?”
“no, actually,” sunoo cuts in, giving you a look of assurance. “we want to talk about something. shewants to, actually.” and sunoo steps aside, leaving you and sunghoon alone to talk everything out and clear all the misunderstandings.
“so, the eraser,” you begin, hesitatingly, looking at sunoo who shoots you thumbs up from a distance. “it actually belongs to yi kyeong. i borrowed it for a test since i didn’t bring mine. the name too, the psh on it stands for park seonghwa, and not park sunghoon.” you want to dig a hole and die because first, this is so embarrassing. sunghoon looks at you unfazed as if he’s too stunned to speak; and second, your voice practically dies towards the end of your sentence, making it more terrible than it already is.
sunghoon doesn’t speak for next thirty seconds. he simply looks at you, blinking occasionally, making you wonder if your confession traumatised him so much that he lost his verbal abilities. you won’t blame him. this whole thing is hurtful enough to give anyone a trauma. furthermore, as you’re about to speak more, he lets out a dry chuckle, almost convincing you that he has gone crazy. “that’s it?”
that’s it? that’s it? that’s allhe has to say? you’re about to lose your mind.
“i mean, i’m sorry for not bringing it up earlier,” you kind of want to scream in the middle of the road because you went through all this trouble, beating your mental health to death, only for him to chuckle and say that’s it? then you ponder if it’s sarcasm, or if sunghoon wants a written apology from you, one that you will post on the school’s forum and recite in front of the whole school at morning assembly. you’re marginally close from ripping your hair out, strand by strand.
“it’s okay. you couldn’t tell me before because i took it so seriously. it’s my fault for jumping to conclusions.” you’re almost in tears once again. had it been someone else, or let alone someone else, had it been youin his shoes, you would’ve made a scene; and sunghoon is here, in front of you, taking the blame for something that isn’t his fault in the first place.
“no, sung—”
“i said it’s okay. i’m glad you brought it up. you don’t have to worry about it anymore.” he cuts you off, reassuring you again and again. all this time, you’ve been thinking about yourself, never really considering him and when you finally give him a chance to call you out, he turns the situation in your favour. “honestly, i’m relieved.”
“sunghoon, what are you doing outside?” an unfamiliar voice breaks in before you could respond to his words. you run your eyes around, who sunghoon seems to have forgotten about, only to realise he has already left. turns out, the voice belonged to sunghoon’s mother and godbless, she’s just as pretty as him, or even more. “and you should invite your friend inside. it’s cold out here.”
“yn’s not a friend. they’re more of a,” ain’t no way. if sunghoon’s planning to say what you’re thinking then there’s no way he hasn’t gone crazy. “classmate. they were about to leave.” his mother nods, smiling at you as she walks inside, leaving you and sunghoon basking in silence. suddenly, all the words inside your mouth die down, leaving a taste of speechlessness as you mutter a silent goodbye to him.
“you good? why do you look pale all of a sudden?” sunghoon asks, stepping forward to check your temperature, only for you to step back as an empty frown settles on his face.
“i know i lied but i always thought we were at least friends,” you say it with a chuckle, having sunghoon retreat his hand as you turn around, proceeding on your way back home. “take care of yourself.”
it’s funny because all this time, you’ve been stepping away from sunghoon, never letting him approach you, taking multiple steps away from him; but just watching him step away from you feels like the life inside you has been knocked out. but it’s fine, this is what you’ve wanted.
and just like that, you and sunghoon get all the way back to step one, being what you initially were : classmates.
NOTE. hi this took so long help i hope you haven’t forgotten me ( hi it’s caelin bffies ) anyway only two chapters to go yeahhh however, they might take even more time to come out since i’m moving to another state this wednesday. so, i’ll be busy for the rest of this month, then i have college entrances next month so i’ll be busy till july 20th too :( i don’t think i’ll get time to post but i’ll definitely try to update soon after !
Some people are meant to be in your life until the end, most just stay a few chapters, and much to you dismay or your fortune, Sunghoon was one of those.
This is a work of fiction, people mentioned or involved are actual human beings and none of this work is based on actual facts over the celebrities mentioned nor is intented to portray them in a realistic way.
Some themes are not factually acurate, any problem detected on the information given may be comunicated to me via DM.
