Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Go Hyuntak had never seen a school that looked this much like a battlefield.

Eunjang had a smell.

Not bad. Just… complicated. Like damp cement after a storm, stale instant coffee from the vending machine at the gate, and a faint electricity that buzzed over the heads of teenagers who already hated each other before first period.

He had dressed too neatly. His shirt was ironed, his shoes were spotless, and his backpack still smelled like the store he’d bought it from two days ago. Compared to the scuffed shoes and loosened ties of everyone else, he might as well have been holding a neon sign that said new kid.

A group of seniors brushed past him roughly, and he barely managed to dodge out of the way.

He stood there clutching his transfer papers like a shield.

This was it. A new school, a new start. No expectations. Maybe, if the universe was feeling generous, a chance to not be invisible.

"I'll be right with you." The principal said, typing something on her very old-fashioned computer.

Gotak noded trying to keep his cool and act like he didn't see what was happening through the window, right behind the principals back.

"Nine schools in 10 years...My, my. Army Brat?" She said, closing her laptop and standing up clunching the papers.

"Yeah...My dad is-"

"That's enough. I'm sure you won't find Eunjang any different from your old schools."

Something slamed on the window. Gotak jumped a bit and saw the kids from outside trying to run away and hide.

How is this school ever real, he thought.

"You know, same little ass-wipe shit-for-brains everywhere." The principal said, smiling, trying to act like there's wasn't a whole battle with food happening behind her.

What the hell did she just say?

"Am I in the right office?" Gotak was starting to doubt himself, wondering if this somehow isn't all just a dream.

"Not anymore. You got a class to attend and I got a novel to finish. Now, scoot. Scoot!"

Before he could leave, a new student came in. He was tall, had chopped bangs and looked like he wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

"Ahn Suho." She sighed, "I see we're making our visits a weekly ritual."

Gotak didn't stay long enough to hear the rest of the coverstation. He bolted away as fast as possible and tried to not make an eye contact with any of the students.

The hallways were lined with dented lockers, peeling posters, and kids who all looked like they knew how to throw a punch.

Honestly, the principal was wrong. This school was definitely different from his old ones.

"Hey! Wait up!" He heard someone shout but chose to ignore it. It's probably not directed to him anyway.

"Hey! You, with the blue hoodie on!" Nevermind.

Turning around Gotak found a pretty buffed up guy with... red hair?

"How is this even allowed..." He mumbled under his breath.

The guy approached him and started talking so loudly that Gotak swore he could probably hear him miles away.

"Hello! I'm Park Humin- Baku for short- I'm supposed to show you around. Follow me!"

There was no time for discussion. This guy- Baku, took his hand and started to drag him around like a ragdoll. He couldn't belive that people this energetic actually existed in real life. Gotak always thought that those type of people only appear in the movies and books.

"So...Hyuntak" , Baku read his name off of the paper, "Here's the little breakdown. This hell-hole is literally like a jungle. There you can see the science wing- usually a place you leave without having any will to live- to the left we have the coffee kids. Don't make any sudden movements around them. The kids sitting at that far table are your future MBAs. They used to accept a ton of new people but after the rumors about me started going out they decided to stop doing it..."

Gotak sighed and clutched his schedule. "This is fine. Totally fine."

"It's not fine." Baku said cheerfully, "but you've got me so you'll survive."

They started to make their way back to the main area and Gotak had no idea what to think. On one hand he is kinda glad that this school dosen't look so depressive and miserable as his last one. On the other hand he wishes that this school had more rules, because why the hell did he just see someone casually smoking while waiting in the line for the bathroom.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His mother had promised this school was a “fresh start,” a new place where no one would know him. That meant no embarrassing stories, no being “that kid who transferred midyear.” Just a chance to start over.

Approaching the main area they suddenly stopped and caught a ripple movement in the corner of their eyes. Gotak turned around and to say he was only breathless was an understatement.

The air shifted, and every head had turned in the same direction at once.

Seo Juntae walked into the building with a little bounce in his step. He was all sunshine: glossy hair, clear eyes, the kind of natural charm that made people orbit around him.

"Who is that?" He asked.

Baku whistled. "Seo Juntae. The nerdiest and somehow one of the most popular guys in the school. Also? Completley untouchable. He has an incredibly uptight father, and it's a widley known fact that him and his brother aren't allowed to date."

"Yeah...Whatever." Gotak said, not even paying attention to the single thing Baku was saying.

"Focus man!" Baku yelled. "I'm being dead serious. You can't date him!"

"Why not? His father can't be that bad."

Baku groaned and continued to argue with Gotak. "See that guy over there'', he pointed to one of the nearby tables; "that's Sieun, Juntaes brother, he hates everything and everyone. Music, parties, happiness- you name it."

Before Gotak could ask why this Sieun guy was so important to the story, Baku took his hand again and draged him to the cafeteria.

They sat at the very large table, considering there's only the two of them. The other tables looked like a garbage dump compared to the one they were siting at- which was suspiciously neat.

While Gotak was still trying to process what the hell just happened in the last half an hour, Baku leaned in and gestured around the cafeteria like a nature documentary guide.

"That table? Keum Seongje. Rich, good-looking, completely full of himself. He's been trying to date Juntae for the past year but somehow never managed to actually take him out."

Seongje was laughing loudly at something, flipping his hair for emphasis, and wearing a jacket like it was a fashion runway.

“And over there,” Baku whispered, pointing subtly, “that’s Ahn Suho.”

Gotak turned and immediately understood why people lowered their voices when they said his name.

Suho was leaning back in a chair, feet up on the table, a pair of black headphones resting around his neck. His hair was a little messy in a deliberate kind of way, his expression unreadable. He didn’t look like he cared about anything, but there was a tension in the way he sat—like a coiled spring.

Gotak stared a moment too long.

And that was when Suho’s head tilted just slightly, as if he’d felt it.

For the briefest heartbeat, Suho’s eyes met his. Dark, unreadable, cutting through the crowded cafeteria like there was no one else there.

Gotak’s stomach dropped.

Then Suho looked away, uninterested, like Gotak had never existed. Gotak sucked in a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He couldn’t pull his eyes away, even after Suho had turned back to whatever he was doing.

His heart was still thudding in his ears, like that single look had flipped a switch somewhere inside his chest.

What was that?

He rubbed his palms on his thighs under the table, trying to shake it off. Up close—or as close as you could be from across a cafeteria—Suho hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t said a word, hadn’t even moved except to glance at him. No threat. No glare. Just… awareness. Like a wolf turning its head because it noticed you staring.

And yet, Gotak couldn’t stop thinking about the way the room seemed to bend around him.

Is he actually dangerous, or does everyone just decide he is because of the way he looks?

From what Baku had said, Suho’s reputation was brutal. Someone who fought. Someone who won. But sitting there, he didn’t look like he was itching for a fight. He looked bored. Lonely, even.

He was sitting by himself. Not at Seongje’s table, not laughing with friends. No one approached him. They walked wide around him, like he was radioactive.

“Why does he look like everyone owes him money?” Gotak whispered.

“Because they do,” Baku whispered back.

Even tho Gotak did want to know stuff about random people from this school, he did remember that there was something way more important he had to ask.

"How can I get close to Juntae?"

Baku stopped mid chew and pointed at him with chopsticks. "He's looking for a french tutor."

Bingo.

"Perfect." Gotak grinned ear to ear.

"You know how to speak french?"

"No, but I'm about to."

-

Eunjang was loud.

Not in a volume way—though that too—but loud in the sense that everything here wanted to be seen. Wanted to be heard.

Every year when he stepped out of his car and walked through the gates, it was like watching the same movie on repeat, only everyone was slightly taller and a little bit worse at pretending.

He thought about how small the building really was. Four floors. Eight hallways. A yard barely big enough for two buses.
And yet somehow it managed to feel suffocating. Like no matter where you stood, someone was looking at you, adding you to their daily gossip.

He’d learned years ago that there were only two ways to survive a place like this:

• Become what they want to look at.
• Or make yourself so unpleasant to look at that they turn away.

Juntae had chosen option one.

Sieun had chosen option two.

As he walked through the hallway, he felt the stares ripple behind him like a physical thing.

They weren’t looking at him—they never were. Not really.

And what annoyed him most about this school wasn’t the staring, or the whispers, or the ridiculous hierarchy. It was that everyone thought they had him figured out.

They thought he was angry. That he thought he was better. The truth was simpler: he just didn’t care.

The only thing he actually cares about are his studies and grades. He studies when he is sad, happy, in the mood, not in the mood... It was kind of like a safe space for him.

He’d seen enough to know that all of this—all of them—would evaporate the second they stepped outside the gates after graduation.

They're going to forget eachother- forget this hell-hole of a school and all the teachers that they fought during their free time or in between classes.

By the luch time, he’d already tallied the day’s offenses:

• Five people tried to make small talk.
• Two teachers told him to smile more.
• Seongje winked at Juntae (again).

Tray in hand, he scanned the cafeteria. Same tables, same friend circles, like someone had marked territories with chalk:

Seongje and his orbit at the center. Baku and some new kid whispering like cartoon villains. And in the corner, him.

Ahn Suho.

He wasn’t hard to find. Even without trying, his eyes went to that table.

Feet propped on the desk. Headphones around his neck. That stillness.

People said he was dangerous. Sieun didn’t know if that was true, but he knew this: people here hated a blank they couldn’t fill in, and he was a perfect blank.

Which made him almost interesting. Almost.

He looked away before curiosity got the better of him.

The cafe Gotak chose was almost empty, golden light pooling across the desks as the rest of the customers fled for the day.

He sat stiffly in his chair, notebook open in front of him, gripping his pen like it might protect him from whatever this was going to be.

Juntae droped in the seat next to him and begun talking.

"Hi! I don't want to be mean, but can we make this quick? Some people are having an incredibly horrendous public break-up on the quad, again."

Gotak had to stare at him at first. Who would have thought that Juntae would be so interested in gossip and drama of all people?

"Oh, yeah, okay" , he mumbled, "I thought that we'd start with pronunciation if that's all right with you?"

"Wait I'm sorry, what was your name again?"

"Go Hyuntak. And listen I know that your dad dosen't let you date but I thought that if it was for french class..."

"Oh, wait a minute Tak-ah" , Juntae suddenly interrupted, "my dad just came up with a new rule. I can date when my brother does and in case you haven't heard, Sieun's a particularly quiet and introverted person."

"Yeah, I noticed he's a little antisocial." Gotak said even tho he only saw the guy once- yesterday at the school cafeteria.

"Yeah, so I'm sorry, even tho I think you're a great guy and all, I can't go out with you."

Gotak got a bit sad after hearing that. What kind of crazy father do you have to be to not let your child date until your other does.

"Well, yeah, but I'm sure that there are lots of girls who wouldn't mind going out with a 'difficult' guy." He was not about to lose Juntae because of some stupid old-fashioned rule.

"Uhhh...Sorry to break it to you, but Sieun is into guys..." Juntae said rather shyly.

They stared at each other for a few moments.

"Dosen't matter! I will find him an extreme guy to date, I promise."

"You think you could find someone that extreme?"

"Sure, I don't see why not."

"And you'd do that for me?" Juntae said while grabbing Hyuntaks arm. He had to stop himself from melting right on the spot.

"Hell yes!" He said before realizing how pathetic he actually sounded. "I mean, you know, I could look into it." He said not knowing what he was actually signing up for.

-

Gotak couldn’t believe he was about to do this.

The concrete was still warm from the sun, and the hum of cicadas filled the silence while he paced back and forth. Beside him, Baku lounged against a wall like this was the best entertainment he’d had in weeks.

“Let me get this straight,” Baku said, pulling a lollipop from his pocket. “You want Ahn Suho to date Yeon Sieun. So that you can date Seo Juntae.”

“Not date,” Gotak muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just… talk to him. Hang out. Distract him. Their dad doesn’t let them do anything unless he approves.”

“And you think he’s the guy for that?” Baku smirked. “You’ve seen him punch people, right?”

Gotak stopped pacing. “Yeah. And you said it yourself: no one else would survive two minutes with Sieun. He scares everyone. Suho doesn’t seem like the type to be scared."

Baku whistled. “Okay, Romeo. I’ll give you points for guts.”

The sound of footsteps on gravel made them both look up.

Suho came around the corner, earbuds in, hands in his pockets. He stopped when he saw them, one eyebrow lifting slightly, the way someone does when they’re already bored.

Baku elbowed Gotak. “Go on, then.”

“I—” Gotak’s throat dried out. “You do it!”

“Nope. This was your idea.”

Before Gotak could argue, Baku cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted:
“Hey, Suho! Got a proposition for you!”

Suho pulled one earbud out. “Not interested.”

“Just hear us out!” Baku said, completely unfazed. Suho turned to leave.

Desperation made Gotak blurt out, “It’s about Sieun!” That stopped him.

Slowly, Suho turned back. “Yeon Sieun?”

Gotak nodded, sweating. “Y-Yeah. Look, um… I need your help.”

"Fine. I'll listen."

-

The three of them ended up sitting on the low wall by the bike racks. Suho leaned back, expression unreadable, while Gotak tried to string his words together.

“He doesn’t talk to anyone,” Gotak said, words coming out fast, like he could outrun Suho’s stare.

“He just… shuts people down. If he doesn’t like you, you’re done. But if you—if someone like you—gets through to him…” Baku leaned in, taking over. “It’s like a locked door,” he said. “Most people knock. You? You’d just walk in.”

Suho’s mouth twitched like he couldn’t decide if that was funny or annoying.

“Look,” Baku said, “Sieun’s not like his brother. Juntae’s all smiles and sunshine. Sieun’s… storm clouds. But not the messy kind. The clean, ‘get out of my way’ kind.”

Gotak nodded hard. “He’s the kind of person who makes you feel like you shouldn’t waste his time.”

“And that’s exactly why he scares everyone,” Baku said. “You’re the only one who won’t care. You’ll just stand there and keep talking until he either walks away or kills you.”

Suho tilted his head slightly, thinking.
“He reads a lot,” Gotak said, trying to remember everything he’d noticed. “He always goes straight to the library during lunch. And… he hates loud people. Seongje tries to flirt with Juntae all the time, and you can see his eyes roll from across the hall.”

“So,” Suho said, “you’re asking me to be quiet?”

“Not quiet,” Baku said with a grin. “Just… yourself. The less you try, the better.”

“And what do I get out of this?” Suho asked, voice still calm, like none of this was getting to him.

Gotak hesitated. “I don’t… know. I just… I can’t even try with Juntae until Sieun isn’t standing in the way.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” Suho said flatly.

“Yeah,” Gotak said, surprising himself with how honest he sounded. “But it’s my only plan.”

For a moment, Suho just looked at him.
And then, for the first time, something softened—just slightly—in his expression.

“He’s smart,” Suho said at last. “And sharp. People like that… don’t give out their trust for free.”

“Exactly,” Baku said, leaning forward.

"Which is why it’s perfect. You don’t want anything from him.” Suho’s lips curved in a small, almost invisible smile.

“You think you know what I want?”

“We know you don’t want this,” Baku said, gesturing at the school. “And neither does he. You two are the only ones here who look like you’d rather be somewhere else.”

There was a pause. Then he glanced at Gotak. “This isn’t a date-for-money kind of thing, is it?”

“What? No!” Gotak shook his head furiously. “I don’t have any money! This is just… please. Help me out.”

The cicadas buzzed louder. Finally, Suho let out a long breath.

“Fine. I’ll try talking to him. But if he tells me to back off, that’s it.”

Gotak nodded so hard his neck hurt. “Deal. That’s all I need.”

“And if this blows up in my face,” Suho added, standing, “you two are dead.”

Baku grinned, unbothered. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried to kill me.”

Chapter Text

Why the hell did he say yes?

Suho had been asking himself that question all morning.

He wasn’t the kind of guy who let other people talk him into things. He’d always been good at shrugging, saying “no,” and walking away without a shred of guilt. It was one of the few skills that had kept him sane in this loud, ridiculous school.

But now he was here, standing in the middle of the courtyard with a backpack hanging off one shoulder and his hands shoved in his pockets, trying to spot him.

Yeon Sieun.The guy Gotak wanted him to talk to.

It sounded simple enough yesterday, back behind the gym when Gotak had blurted out the plan in a single, nervous breath. It was supposed to be a favor. Just “distract” Sieun, make him a little less unapproachable, and clear a path for Juntae to date whoever he was obsessed with.

The idea had sounded stupid then, and it sounded even dumber now.

But something about Gotak’s wide-eyed desperation- the way his voice had cracked when he said, “You’re the only one he won’t punch in the throat just for standing near him” -had stuck with him.

So here he was.

The courtyard was its usual brand of chaos.

Noise bounced everywhere—basketballs smacking pavement, a cluster of kids shouting at someone from across the lawn, the tinny echo of music from a half-broken phone speaker.

But he didn’t seem to hear any of it.
He sat on the lip of the fountain, legs crossed, a book balanced on his knee. Head bent, hair falling forward like a curtain. Completely still, except for his hand turning pages.

Nobody went near him. And he didn’t invite them to.

At first, Suho thought: He looks bored.

But the longer he looked, the more he realized it wasn’t boredom. It was something harder. Quieter. A kind of stillness that wasn’t waiting for anyone to join him.

Suho slowed his steps. What am I doing?

Gotak’s voice was still in the back of his head from earlier: Just talk to him, man. It’s easy.

Easy. Sure. For someone like Gotak maybe.
For Suho? Starting a fight was easy. Talking to someone like him wasn’t.

His hands itched. Not for a fight—just with the restless need to do something.

He hated that. The way Sieun made him second-guess a thing as simple as walking forward.

Part of him told himself to keep going, pretend he hadn’t seen him. But another part—the louder one—was curious.

Curious about what it would be like to talk to someone who clearly didn’t want to be talked to. Someone who didn’t automatically expect him to be trouble. Or maybe he did.

Either way, it was different.

And maybe, just maybe, he was tired of being predictable.

By the time he realized his feet had already carried him halfway across the yard, it was too late to turn back.

He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, trying to drown out the restless hum in his chest. This wasn’t nerves-he didn’t get nervous. This was something else. Anticipation, maybe.

Every step closer tightened the coil inside his chest.

Alright, Suho. Just say something. Worst case? He tells you to get lost, he almost smiled at the thought.

“Yeon Sieun, right?”

He didn’t look up. Didn’t even blink.

“Mind if I sit?” Still no reaction. Pages turned.

Suho dropped onto the stone ledge of the fountain anyway.

“You just did,” Sieun said finally, eyes still locked on his book. His voice was soft but final, like a door closing with quiet precision.

He blinked. “Right. Sorry.”

Silence.

“What are you reading?”

“A book.”

He laughed under his breath. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“Then why ask?”

His tone wasn’t cold. It was factual, like he’d cut away the part of the conversation that wasn’t necessary.

“You know,” Suho said after a beat, “most people would at least pretend to be friendly.”

“And you still sat down,” Sieun replied.

That pulled a grin from him despite himself. “Guess I like a challenge.”

“You should pick easier ones.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Finally, Sieun looked up. It felt like a hit—not physical, but in the way his gaze pinned Suho.

He didn’t glare. He just… looked. Direct. Steady. Not impressed.

“You’re Ahn Suho,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“You know me?”

“People talk.”

“What do they say?”

“That you get into fights.”

He tilted his head. “And what do you think?”

“I think you’ve been here for three minutes and you’re already annoying me.”

That made him laugh. Genuine this time. “Fair.”

Most people would have left at that point. He stayed.

“So,” Suho said, leaning back on his hands, “you hate this place too, huh?”

“I never said that.”

“Didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face.”

Sieun went back to his book. “Do you always project this much?”

“Maybe. Do you always deflect this much?”

He flipped a page. “If I keep answering, will you eventually stop talking?”

“Probably not.”

“Then I won’t waste my energy.”

For a while, they just sat there in the courtyard noise.

Suho watched Sieuns fingers tighten slightly on the book’s spine, then relax. It was strange how he could sit in the middle of all this chaos and somehow make it feel like the two of them were somewhere else.

“You ever get tired of it?” Suho asked. That made him look up again.

“Tired of what?”

“Everyone thinking they know you after two seconds.” Something flickered in Sieuns eyes. A pause.

“Don’t you?” Suho added, quieter this time. His gaze lingered on him, a second longer than before.

Then Sieun said, “At least you’re self-aware.” And went back to reading.

It wasn’t much. But it was enough.

“Well,” Suho said, standing, “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“If you must.”

As he walked away, hands stuffed back in his pockets, he risked a glance over his shoulder. Sieun was already back to his book, like Suho hadn’t been there at all.

But something about the exchange stuck in him like a splinter. Most people’s walls were hidden. Sieuns weren’t. He wanted people to know exactly where they stood.

And for some reason, that just made him want to try again.

-

The sun was already starting to dip, throwing long shadows across the back lot of the school. This was their place- half-forgotten benches, cracked pavement, no teachers, no interruptions.

Gotak was balancing a soda bottle on his knee, while Baku was halfway through dismantling his own backpack like he was searching for a portal to another dimension. Suho leaned against the bench, chewing the inside of his cheek, eyes fixed on nothing in particular.

“So?” Gotak finally said, breaking the silence. “You talk to him?”

Suho glanced up. “Yeah.”

Baku froze mid-rummage. “Wait. You actually did? You? Mister Walk-Around-The-Entire-Building-To-Avoid-People?”

“Yeah,” Suho repeated.

Gotak grinned, wide. “Well? How’d it go?”

Suho hesitated. The words stuck for a second, which was stupid. It wasn’t like he’d confessed anything.

“He didn’t bite my head off,” Suho said finally.

Gotak let out a low whistle. “Wow. Progress.”

Baku squinted. “Hold on, hold on. Back up. I need details. Don’t just skip to the credits like that. Where? When? Did he even look at you?”

Suho dropped down onto the bench, rubbing a hand over his face. “The courtyard. He was reading. I sat down.”

“And?” Gotak prompted.

“And he told me I was annoying.” There was a pause. Then both of them started laughing.

“Man, I love him already,” Baku said, leaning back, grinning. “What else?”

Suho shrugged, but the corner of his mouth tugged upward despite himself. “We talked. A little. He didn’t say much, but… he didn’t leave.”

Baku tilted his head. “And that’s a win for you?”

“He didn’t throw the book at me,” Suho said. “I’m counting it.”

Gotak elbowed him lightly. “So? What’s he like? Same as the rumors?”

He thought about that for a moment. Sharp. That was the first word that came to mind. Not mean. Not cruel. Just sharp in a way that made everyone else feel blunt by comparison.

“He's… different,” Suho said finally. “He doesn’t fake it. You know how people here act one way to your face and another behind your back? He’s not like that. He just… doesn’t care.”

Baku laughed. “Sounds like your type.”

Suho shot him a look. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious,” Baku said, raising both hands. “You’ve been bored out of your mind since you transferred. Of course you’d go after the one person who isn’t impressed by you.”

Gotak grinned. “So, are you gonna talk to him again?”

Suho hesitated. The truth was, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the way Sieun looked at him. Not scared. Not starstruck. Just steady, like he could see right through him.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I am.”

Baku kicked his bag closed with a loud thud. “Well, if you want my advice- don’t open with ‘people talk about me.’ That’s a terrible line.”

Gotak laughed. “No, no, keep doing that. It’s hilarious.”

Suho ignored both of them. Instead, he leaned back, eyes on the sky.

Gotak nudged him again. “Earth to Suho?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“The one where you’re thinking too hard.”

Suho smirked. “Maybe I am."

“Good,” Gotak said, cracking open another soda. “Means you’re finally awake.”

For a while, the three of them just sat there, the noise of the school fading as students went home.

But in Suho’s head, the courtyard was still there. The fountain. The book. And a pair of eyes that weren’t impressed, weren’t scared, weren’t anything except completely sure of themselves.

The quiet didn’t last long.

Gotak turned toward him with that expression Suho had learned to be wary of, half grin, half bad idea.

“So,” Gotak said, “we need a plan."

Suho gave him a look. “A plan for what?”

“For you and Sieun, obviously.”

Baku perked up instantly. “Oh, this is going to be fun. Operation Don’t Scare Him Off.”

“Terrible name,” Suho muttered.

“Working title,” Baku said, already rummaging through his bag like he was going to pull out blueprints.

Gotak leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Alright. First step. You need an excuse to talk to him again. Preferably something normal. School-related.”

Suho raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Gotak said, waving a hand. “Borrow a pencil. Ask about homework.”

“Because nothing says smooth like asking about math problems,” Suho said dryly.

Baku snapped his fingers. “Better idea. Join whatever club he’s in.”

“He’s not in a club,” Suho said.

“Then start one. Make it sound intellectual. Something he can’t resist.”

“Like?”

Baku thought for a second, then said, “Book Appreciation Club.”

Suho stared. “Seriously?”

“You read books, right?”

“No.”

“Then you’ll have to start.”

Gotak snorted. “You’re hopeless.”

“Fine,” Baku said. “Plan B. Pretend you’re injured. People always talk to you if you’re bleeding.”

“I’m not faking an injury."

“Okay, but what if it’s real? That’s very on-brand for you.”

Suho gave him a flat look. “You want me to get into a fight just so I can sit next to him in the nurse’s office?”

Baku shrugged. “Just saying. You’re good at that.”

Gotak laughed, shaking his head. “Ignore him. You just need something casual. Walk up, say hi, ask what he’s reading. Then...”

“Tried that,” Suho interrupted. “He told me I was annoying.”

Baku burst out laughing. “Perfect. Step two: embrace the annoying. It’s your thing now.”

Suho exhaled slowly, tilting his head back against the bench. He wasn’t sure why he was letting them run with this. Maybe because the alternative was admitting that he didn’t have a plan. All he had was a feeling. A pull.

“You know,” Baku said, “if you want Sieuns attention, you’ve got to stand out. Make a gesture. Do something big.”

“No,” Suho said immediately.

“Big but tasteful,” Baku corrected. “Like… I don’t know. Serenade him.”

Suho sat up. “Absolutely not.”

Gotak nearly choked on his drink. “I’d pay money to see that.”

“He doesn’t seem like the serenade type,” Suho said.

“Exactly,” Baku said, grinning. “He’ll never see it coming.”

“Or,” Gotak said, still laughing, “you could just be yourself. Talk to him again. No plans. No theatrics.”

“That’s your big idea?” Baku asked.

“Yeah.”

“That’s boring.”

“Yeah,” Suho agreed. “That’s the point.”

Baku sighed dramatically and flopped back on the bench. “Fine. But at least try to be interesting while you’re being yourself.”

-

Later that evening, the sun was low, cars were clearing out, and the three of them leaned against Suho’s beat-up motorcycle.

Baku was juggling a set of keys, Gotak kept looking off at the main building like it held all the answers, and Suho was polishing the handlebars with a rag, pretending not to listen.

“So… how’s it going with our resident angel, Seo Juntae?” Baku asked suspiciously.

“Don’t start.” Gotak says, groaning.

“Sounds like you’re avoiding the question.”

“I’m not avoiding. It’s just—complicated.”

Baku hopped up to sit sideways on the bike next to Suho. “Complicated is my middle name. Talk.”

Gotak sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Every time I try to talk to him, I sound like an idiot. And now that you’ve got me helping with this ‘get Sieun a boyfriend so Juntae can date’ scheme, I see him even more. Which should be good, but it’s… worse.”

"Worse how?" Suho asks.

“Because I can’t tell if he just sees me as, like… the weird guy who follows him around.”

Baku grinned. “Oh, he definitely notices you. You practically trip over yourself to open doors for him. It’s adorable.”

“Not helping.”

“I wasn’t trying to help. I was enjoying myself.”

Suho finally looked up, wiping grease off his hands. “Does he ever seem bothered?”

Gotak shook his head quickly. “No. He’s… nice. Too nice.”

“That’s your in.”

“What, just because he doesn’t hate me?”

“It means you haven’t scared him off yet.”

Baku twirled the keys on his finger. “Okay, but let’s be real: you’ve got to be careful. Juntae is like… untouchable. Perfect grades, perfect hair. Meanwhile, you’re…”

“Awkward and sweaty?”

“I was going to say ‘endearingly hopeless,’ but sure.”

Gotak slumped back against the wall. “This plan was supposed to make it easier to get close to him. I thought if I helped Sieun find someone to date, I'd… I don’t know… look good?”

“And now?”

“And now I can barely speak when he’s around. It’s like my mouth forgets how to work.”

Baku snorted. “Classic Main-character-from-the-movie behavior.”

“Shut up. This isn’t a movie.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Suho smirked. “Here’s what you do. Keep talking to him. Don’t try too hard. He likes that you’re honest.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. He wouldn’t waste his time with you if he didn’t.”

Baku clapped Gotak on the back, grinning.
“And besides, this whole ‘help Suho date Sieun’ plan? It’s basically a double date waiting to happen."

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It is. Unless you overthink it. Which… you will.”

Suho kicked the bike stand up and swung a leg over. “Come on. Let’s go before you two turn this into a rom-com pep talk.”

As they headed off, Gotak glanced back at the school, catching a flash of black hair disappearing around the corner.

For a second, he let himself imagine it: not just helping Suho and Sieun get together, but actually having the courage to tell Juntae how he felt.

-

The hallway outside the library smelled like old textbooks and floor polish. Gotak was juggling his books nervously when Suho’s hand landed on his shoulder, solid and unmovable.

“Today’s the day,” Suho said.

Gotak blinked. “What day?”

“The day you stop looking at him from across the room like a kicked puppy.”

Before Gotak could reply, Suho was already steering him down the hall.

Through the open library doors, Juntae sat at a table alone, his head bent over a french workbook. A half-empty bottle of strawberry milk was next to him, condensation slowly pooling on the polished wood. He was frowning, chewing on the end of his pencil.

Gotak froze.

“I can’t just walk in there,” he whispered.

“You can,” Suho said, already pushing him forward. "You're his tutor, it's basically your job to do so."

And just like that, Suho peeled away, heading for the far side of the library, while Gotak was shoved forward by nothing but momentum and panic.

Inside the library every step sounded like a drumbeat in his ears. He told himself to walk normal, not too fast, not too slow, but his brain was a mess of what if he says no? what if he laughs? what if he just dies here? When Gotak finally reached the table, he cleared his throat.

"Hey...Um..." Gotak looked to the side and saw Suho pointing dramaticly at Juntae. "I'm here for todays lesson..."

"Oh, Tak-ah! That's great I was just starting to struggle here." Juntae pointed at something that Gotak remembered he saw in one of the books he bought.

Gotak sat across from Juntae at a table, a battered french textbook spread open between them. “So,” Gotak said, leaning over the book, “this verb… uh, avoir. It means ‘to have,’ right?”

Juntae nodded, twirling his pencil lazily. “Mm-hm.”

“And when you say ‘I have,’ it’s ‘j’ai.’ Like, ‘j’ai une…’ uh… ‘pomme.’ An apple.”

Juntae smirked. “Why is your example always about food?”

“Because I’m hungry and it’s the only word I can remember!” Gotak grinned, then quickly looked back at the book before he could notice how warm his ears felt.

The late sunlight slanted through the tall windows, turning the dust motes gold. Most of the school had already emptied out, leaving the library so quiet that even the turning of a page sounded loud.

“You try it,” Gotak said, nudging the book toward him.

Juntae glanced at the exercise page. '‘Nous avons un chat.’ We have a cat.”

“Nice!” Gotak said. “Now plural… wait, that is plural. Uh, singular: ‘il a un chat.’ He has a cat.”

“You’re not bad at this,” Juntae said, looking at him with a teasing kind of surprise.

Gotak laughed. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? I’ve got a reputation for barely passing anything. Gotta keep expectations low.”

Juntae raised an eyebrow. “So… you’re secretly smart.”

“No!” Gotak protested. “I’m secretly… okay. Sometimes.”

The next few minutes passed with them conjugating verbs, Gotak doodling little stick figures in the margins to make it less boring. Juntae laughed when he saw the tiny apple character with angry eyebrows.

“Is that supposed to be an apple?”

“Yeah. La pomme furieuse,” Gotak said with mock seriousness. Juntae shook his head, smiling.

The air between them was easy now. Not perfect—Gotak still stumbled over his own words sometimes—but easier. Every time Juntae laughed, Gotak felt a knot in his chest loosen.

After a while, Juntae leaned back and stretched, glancing at the clock. “You know, I think this is actually helping. I usually just read the book and forget everything five minutes later.”

Gotak tapped his pencil against the table. “That’s because you need to say it out loud. French is, like… a muscle. You gotta use it.”

“Look at you, sounding like a teacher.”

“I’d make a terrible teacher.”

“Not to me,” Juntae said, soft enough that Gotak almost missed it.

That sentence hung in the air. Gotak blinked, unsure if he should say something back or just keep breathing.

Before he could decide, Juntae reached for his workbook again. “So what’s next? Numbers?”

“Yeah,” Gotak said quickly, grateful for something concrete to hold onto. “Okay, so… un, deux, trois—”

On the other side of the library, Suho leaned against a bookshelf, pretending to read while keeping them in his peripheral vision. Phase two was going better than he’d hoped.

The clock ticked softly above them. Most of the library’s light had turned golden, spilling across their table. The bookshelves around them felt like walls, keeping the rest of the world out. They’d gone from numbers to phrases- slowly, clumsy at first, but it started feeling like a rhythm. Gotak wrote Je m’appelle… on Juntae’s paper and leaned forward.

“That means ‘my name is.’ So, like… ‘Je m’appelle Seo Juntae.’”

Juntae nodded, repeating it out loud, then turned the notebook toward Gotak.

“And for you: ‘Je m’appelle Go Hyuntak."

“You sound fancy when you say it,” Gotak said before he could stop himself.

Juntae looked up at him, brow slightly raised. “Fancy?”

“I don’t know. Like, natural. You could be one of those kids who just… picks up languages.”

Juntae chuckled. “Not really. I just pretend I know what I’m doing.”

For a while, they went back and forth. And then, as Juntae closed his notebook for a break, he said, almost casually:
“Can I ask you something?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“Why are you doing this?” Juntae tilted his head. “Like… tutoring me. You don’t seem like the type who’d volunteer for extra schoolwork.”

Gotak froze. The truth was so simple he almost said it without thinking.

Because I wanted to be around you. Because you looked lonely, even though everyone thinks you’re perfect.

He scratched the back of his neck instead. “Honestly? I just figured… everyone assumes I don’t care about stuff. Maybe I wanted to prove I can, for once.”

“That’s it?” Juntae asked, but his tone wasn’t skeptical—it was curious.

“Well, and…” Gotak hesitated, then gave a lopsided grin. “You seem cool. And you looked like you were about to set that workbook on fire last time I saw you.”

Juntae laughed, a real laugh this time, bright and unguarded. “That’s fair. I kind of hate french.”

“You hate it? Or just everything that comes with it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know…” Gotak gestured vaguely. “Everyone looking at you, expecting you to be good at everything. Being… perfect.”

Juntae stared at him, surprised. No one usually said things like that out loud.

“Maybe,” Juntae said after a long pause. “It’s exhausting sometimes.”

“Yeah. Sounds like it,” Gotak said softly. “I’m glad you suck at french, though. Makes you human.”

That made Juntae grin again, shaking his head. “You’re such an idiot.”

“I try.”

The bell rang faintly in the distance—the custodian’s way of saying the library was closing soon. They gathered their books slowly, almost reluctantly.

Juntae glanced at him as they walked out.
“Same time next week?"

“Yeah,” Gotak said, trying to sound casual even though his chest felt like it might burst. “Same time.”

The second they stepped out into the empty hallway, Suho was there, leaning against the lockers like he had been waiting for hours.

Baku appeared from the other side, a grin already plastered on his face.

“Well?” Suho asked.

Gotak threw his bag over his shoulder, trying to look nonchalant. “It was fine.”

“Fine?” Baku repeated. “You look like a guy who just touched heaven and forgot to wash his hands."

Gotak scowled. “Shut up.”

Suho narrowed his eyes. “Did he agree to another session?”

“…Yeah.”

“And?”

“And what?” Gotak said, his voice defensive. “We studied. We talked.”

Baku nudged Suho. “Look at him. He’s blushing.”

“I’m not blushing,” Gotak muttered.

Suho crossed his arms. “So what did you two talk about?”

“French verbs.”

“And?”

“And… nothing! Just… you know. Stuff.”

Baku smirked. “Personal stuff?”

Gotak hesitated. “…Maybe.”

Suho raised an eyebrow. “So, he opened up a little.”

“Kind of.”

“And you didn’t screw it up?”

“I’m not completely hopeless,” Gotak snapped.

Baku whistled low. “This is happening faster than I thought.”

As they started walking toward the exit, Suho clapped Gotak on the back. “Good. Keep doing exactly what you’re doing. The more time you spend with Juntae, the more normal it’ll feel. And the more normal it feels for you… the easier it’ll be for me with Sieun.”

Gotak groaned. “So this is still part of your big plan, huh?”

“Everything’s part of the plan,” Suho said, already grinning.

He leaned back on the hood of his bike, watching the parking lot clear out. Baku was still going on about Gotak’s “love-struck puppy” face, but Suho wasn’t really listening anymore. His eyes kept flicking toward the school doors.

Gotak was finally making progress with Juntae. That was good. It meant his plan was working. But it also meant he was running out of excuses.

He could talk to anyone. Normally. With Sieun, it was different. Not because he was afraid, he didn’t do afraid, but because it felt like he saw through every word before he said it.

As the sky burned orange, Suho finally spoke, more to himself than to Baku. “If he can get Juntae to laugh, I can get Sieun to talk.”

Baku stopped mid-sentence. “You talking about Sieun?”

Suho gave him a look. “Yeah. Don’t start.”

Baku grinned. “I’m just saying. You know he might throw a book at your head if you say the wrong thing?”

“Better than silence,” Suho muttered.

He thought back to the few times he’d seen him up close, in class, at the cafeteria line, once in the library when he was sitting alone by the window. It wasn’t just that he looked untouchable. It was that he chose to be. And for some reason, that choice gnawed at him.

Suho glanced over at Gotak, who was still beaming into his phone like an idiot, probably typing “je m’appelle” twenty times to practice. It had worked for him. If it worked for them, maybe it could work for him, too. But Sieun wasn’t Juntae. And Suho wasn’t Gotak.

Baku nudged him with his elbow. “So what’s your move, genius?”

"Yeah, you still have to date him for me to be able to date Juntae." Gotak said in a 'as a matter of the fact' voice.

“Library,” Suho said finally.

“Library?”

“He likes quiet. I’ll find a way to… make it less quiet.”

And in his head, the plan started to form, not fully, not yet. But enough. He’d get his chance. Not because he was being manipulated into it, not even because the plan depended on it.

Because he wanted to see what would happen if someone actually listened to Sieun, instead of just reacting to him. As the sun dropped below the horizon, Suho pushed himself off the hood of his bike.

“Come on,” he said. “We’ve got a lot to set up.”

-

The sky was bleeding out its last bit of color when Suho finally pulled out of the school parking lot.
Gotak’s grinning face wouldn’t leave his head. Neither would Sieun’s.

Most of the time, his life was simple: if there was a problem, he hit it until it stopped being one. But Sieun wasn’t a problem you could fight.

He was a wall. And the weird thing was, he didn’t want to tear it down. He just wanted to find the door.

By the time he hit his neighborhood, the plan in his head had started looping like a broken record:

Step one: Find out where he spends his time.
Step two: Give him a reason to let him stay there.
Step three: Don’t screw it up.

Simple. Except none of it was.

Inside, the house was quiet—too quiet. His grandma wouldn’t be home until late. It gave him space to think.

Why did he even care? It wasn’t just that Sieun was smart. It wasn’t just that he didn’t care what people thought. It was the way he carried himself, like he’d already decided the whole world was temporary and he was better off alone. He knew what it felt like, that kind of alone. And it bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

You can’t just walk up to him, Suho, he told himself. He’d see right through that. You need… something natural.

The library. That kept coming back to him.

He’d seen the way Sieun sat there: back to the wall, headphones in, but eyes always scanning. Even when he looked like he wasn’t paying attention, he was.

Sieun would notice him. The question was...What would make him not throw him out?

Maybe he could make it look like an accident. A book he likes. Something he’s working on. Or maybe— He stopped himself. Overthinking wasn’t his style.

Just… show up. Be normal. Talk.

Only problem was, when it came to him, normal suddenly felt impossible.

-

By the time Sieun got home, the house was still and cold.

That was how he liked it.

He set his bag down by the door, methodically. Shoes next. Headphones back on before the silence could get too heavy.

The day had been a blur—new faces, same old patterns.

He’d seen them all, the way they moved: Juntae gliding through like everything was built for him, Gotak trailing with that stubborn determination, Baku talking loud enough to be heard across the hall. And then there was Suho.

Sieun hadn’t spoken a single word to him. He didn't need to. The way Suho watched people, the way he seemed to hold himself a step apart… it was familiar in a way that made Sieun uncomfortable.

In his room, he closed the door, tossed his headphones onto the bed, and opened a book. The words blurred almost immediately. He wasn’t reading. He was replaying the day.

He'd learned a long time ago that high school worked like a script:

• Certain people were cast as stars.
• Others were there to orbit them.
• And if you stayed out of sight, you got left alone.

That was the only rule that mattered to him. Stay invisible. Stay safe.

It was stupid, he told herself. People like Suho didn’t look at people like him. And if they did, it was out of curiosity. Curiosity burned out fast.

He shut the book with a little more force than necessary and stared at the ceiling.

The thing was, he didn’t hate people. Not really. He hated what they did when they got close. The expectations. The noise. It was easier to just step aside before any of it could happen.

But there was a strange, uneasy part of him that wondered if someone did try? If someone like Suho tried? Would Sieun be able to hold his ground? Or would he find himself listening?

The thought annoyed him so much that he turned out the light early, lying in the dark with his headphones on, letting the music drown out everything else.

Tomorrow would be the same. It always was. And he would make sure it stayed that way.

Chapter Text

The library smelled like paper and disinfectant—one of those scents that stuck in your throat.

Suho stood just inside the door, scanning the rows of tables. Gotak and Juntae were already there, tucked into a corner, books and notebooks scattered everywhere like a battlefield.

Perfect.

He’d given them ten minutes to settle in before showing up. Just enough time for them to forget they were supposed to be discreet.

Focus, Suho.

This wasn’t about them. Well, not entirely. They were the cover.

The real reason he was here was on the far side of the room. Back corner, third table from the window: Sieun.

Exactly where Suho knew he’d be.

Sieuns headphones were on. His body was angled away from the rest of the room, like he’d figured out the exact posture that said don’t bother me without having to look up.

But Suho noticed the flick of his eyes when the door opened, quick as a shutter.

Sieun saw him. And then he deliberately looked back down at his book.

He smirked to himself and made his way toward Gotak and Juntae.

Gotak’s back was stiff, his handwriting big and clumsy as he muttered through a line of French conjugations. Juntae was trying not to laugh, his pen spinning between his fingers like it had nothing better to do.

“Je suis… tu es… il est…”

Gotak frowned. “Why does French have so many ways to say ‘is’? Can’t it just be normal?”

Juntae grinned. “If you want normal, you picked the wrong language to teach.”

Suho pulled up a chair without asking. “Don’t mind me,” he said, leaning back casually. “Just needed a quiet place.”

Gotak shot him a look. “Since when do you need quiet?”

“Since now.” His tone made it clear that was the end of that conversation.

Suho kept his eyes on their work, but his attention drifted to the back of the room. From here, he could see Sieun perfectly reflected in the glass of a nearby display case.

He hadn’t looked up again. Not once. Not even when Juntae’s laugh got a little too loud. He's good at this, Suho thought. Pretending none of it exists.

He needed to look natural.

Step one: stay put long enough that Sieun got used to him being here.

Step two: find an excuse to walk past his table. Maybe a book. Maybe a pencil. Something small. No sudden moves.

He let his attention drift back to the study pair. “You know,” Suho said casually, “if you actually learned something, you might impress him.”

Gotak blinked. “I am learning.”

“Uh-huh. And how’s that going?”

Juntae snorted. “He’s better at French than you think.”

Suho smirked. “We’ll see.”

They went back to work. Suho stayed just long enough to make it look like he belonged there, but every few minutes, his eyes flicked toward Sieun. He hadn’t moved. But he was listening. He could tell. Something about the way he paused before turning a page.

Eventually, Suho stood, stretching. “Don’t set anything on fire while I’m gone,” he said lightly, and walked toward the shelves. Not directly toward Sieuns table. Not yet. Just… close enough.

Not today. Not the full approach.

Suho wasn’t ready, and Sieun definitely wasn’t. For now, it was enough to put himself in his line of sight. To let him get used to the idea of him nearby.

As he passed Sieuns row, Suho didn’t look at him. But he felt the weight of Sieuns attention for half a second—a glance, sharp and quick. It was enough.

He grabbed a random book, flipped it open, and leaned against the shelf, pretending to read. Heart steady. Timing everything. The real game would start soon.

The book in his hands was upside down. Suho didn’t even realize until he caught himself staring at the same page for a full minute.

He wasn’t here for the book. He was here for Sieun. He waited, giving Sieun time to sink back into the false safety of thinking he’d gone past.

Now, he told himself.

He pushed off the shelf and strolled casually down the row, cutting across to the aisle that ran past his table. Suho kept his steps slow, lazy. Like he was wandering.

At the exact moment he passed Sieun, the pencil in his hand slipped—too easy, deliberate, but with just enough clumsiness that it looked natural. It hit the floor, bounced once, rolled right next to Sieuns foot.

He looked up. For the first time all day, Yeon Sieun’s eyes met his.

“Sorry,” he said, voice low. Not cocky. Not loud. Just steady.

He crouched to pick it up, close enough to catch the faint scent of his shampoo, something clean, not sweet. Close enough to see that Sieun was studying Suho with the same sharpness he’d been using on him all week.

Sieuns expression didn’t change. No smile. No frown. But he didn’t tell him to go away, either.

He stayed crouched a moment longer, gripping the pencil. Then: “You always sit here?”

His eyes lifted again, slow, deliberate. “Why?”

“Trying to find a quiet corner for myself,” Suho said, shrugging. “Looks like you’ve already claimed the best one.”

There was the faintest pause. “I like quiet,” Sieun said finally.

Suho smiled faintly. “Yeah. Me too.”

He stood, not pushing further. Just those few words.

Then, with a nod, he walked back toward Gotak and Juntae, letting the space settle.

-

From the corner table of the library, Gotak had just gotten through “Je suis, tu es, il est…” without messing up. That alone felt like a victory.

Juntae was smirking at him when Suho suddenly stood up.

"Don’t set anything on fire while I’m gone,” he said lightly, and walked toward the shelves.

Gotak scowled down at his notes. “He’s going to do something, isn’t he?”

Juntae tilted his head, following Suho with his eyes. “Yup.”

They both knew exactly where Suho was headed.

Past the history section. Past the reading alcove. All the way to the table where Yeon Sieun sat alone, headphones on, surrounded by a wall of quiet that no one ever dared to cross.

“What does he even-” Gotak stopped mid-whisper as he saw Suho slow down, bend over like he dropped something. “Wait. No. He did not just-”

“He totally did,” Juntae breathed.

From their angle, they saw the pencil hit the floor and roll toward Sieun’s foot. Saw him glance up, sharp as a knife. Saw Suho crouch, say something they couldn’t hear. And then—shockingly—saw Sieun actually respond.

“Whoa,” Gotak whispered. “He’s talking.”

Juntae’s mouth fell open. “That’s… the first time I’ve seen him talk to anyone besides a teacher.”

The exchange lasted maybe fifteen seconds. Then Suho straightened, nodded once, and walked back, calm as if nothing happened. When he dropped back into the chair across from them, Gotak and Juntae just stared.

“What?” Suho asked.

“You actually talked to him," Gotak said.

Suho only smirked faintly and reached for the random book he’d grabbed.

Gotak leaned closer to Juntae, muttering, “I feel like I just watched a cheetah sneak up on a gazelle.”

“And not get kicked in the face,” Juntae whispered back.

“Yeah. That part’s the miracle.”

"You guys annoy me," Suho said and stood up walking towards the door.

The moment he walked out of the library, the air around the table loosened. Juntae tapped his pen against his notebook, still half-grinning.

“Wow,” he said. “That was… bold.”

Gotak was still staring at the door like it might open again. “He just- talked to him.”

“Yup.”

“And he didn’t throw a book at him.”

“Nope.” Juntae’s grin widened. “Impressive, right?”

Gotak swallowed, fingers drumming against his French notes. He’d been waiting all session for a moment alone. Now that he had it, his throat was dry.

“So,” he started, voice cracking just enough to make him wince. He cleared his throat and tried again. “There’s this, uh… party. Friday.”

Juntae raised an eyebrow. “You? At a party? You don’t exactly strike me as the party type.”

“I’m not,” Gotak admitted, shifting in his chair. “But… you know. Maybe it could be… fun?”

He winced at his own words. God, could he sound more awkward?

Juntae tilted his head, watching him like a cat with a bug. “Fun,” he repeated, skeptical.

“Yeah,” Gotak said quickly. “Loud music, snacks, terrible dancing—normal fun. I just thought… you might want to come. With me. I mean, not with me with me, just—at the same time.” For a second, he thought his heart had stopped.

Juntae set his pen down, leaning forward onto his elbows. “Tak-ah.”

“Yeah?”

“You do realize I can’t go anywhere unless Sieun goes, right?”

Gotak blinked. “Wait. Seriously?”

“It’s like… the rule.” Juntae shrugged. “My dad. He won’t let me out of the house unless my brother’s there to keep an eye on me. Kind of annoying, but there you go.”

Gotak sat back, groaning softly. “So even if I invite you, I’m actually inviting-"

“Sieun,” Juntae finished. “Exactly. No Sieun, no me.”

“And Sieun will never, ever want to go to a party.”

“Pretty much,” Juntae said, almost cheerfully. “So unless someone works a miracle…” He trailed off, looking at Gotak like he already knew who he was thinking of.

Gotak sighed, shoving a hand through his hair. “Suho.”

Juntae grinned. “Bingo.”

The two sat in silence for a moment. Then Juntae leaned back, smug.

“So. You still want to try?”

Gotak glanced at him, cheeks burning. “…Yeah. I do.”

Juntae smiled to himself and picked up his pen again. “Then I guess we’d better hope Suho knows what he’s doing.”

-

The bell had barely rung when Gotak and Juntae tracked Suho down. He was leaning against the low brick wall outside the school gates, hands in his pockets, looking like he had all the time in the world.

“Suho!” Juntae called out, trotting up with Gotak trailing behind, his bag slipping off one shoulder.

Suho glanced up, eyebrow raised. “You two look like you’re about to sell me something.”

Juntae grinned. “Not sell. Offer.”

Gotak muttered, “It’s more like a request.”

“Which one of you’s gonna explain before I get bored?” Suho asked.

Juntae nudged Gotak forward. “Go on.”

Gotak took a breath.“You know there’s a party Friday night?”

Suho blinked, unimpressed. “Do I look like I care?”

“Right,” Gotak said quickly, “but here’s the thing- I want to go. With Juntae.”

Suho smirked faintly. “Congratulations. That’s adorable. Why is this my problem?”

“Because,” Juntae cut in, “I can’t go anywhere unless Sieun goes. And Sieun would rather eat glass than step foot in a party.”

Suho paused, tilting his head. “So you want me to make him go.”

“Exactly,” Gotak said, nodding like his life depended on it.

For a moment, Suho just looked at them. The corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re asking me,” he said slowly, “to convince Yeon Sieun, the guy who can’t stand being in a room with other people, to show up to a loud, crowded party.”

“Yes,” Juntae said brightly. “Pretty much.”

Suho huffed out a laugh. “You two are insane.”

“Maybe,” Gotak said, voice small. “But if you could just… talk to him? I don’t know. Whatever you did in the library, do that again.”

There was a beat of silence. Suho straightened, dusting off his hands. “And why would I bother?”

“Because you like him,” Juntae said without hesitation.

That made Suho stop. His eyes narrowed just a fraction, like he was trying to decide whether to argue. Then, to their surprise, he smiled. Not big. Just the smallest pull at the corner of his mouth. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Gotak blinked. “Just like that? You don't want money or anything?”

“Don’t get excited,” Suho said, already walking away. “I’m not promising anything. If he tells me to go to hell, that’s on you."

The crowd around the front gate was thinning fast, students scattering like leaves in the late afternoon wind. Juntae adjusted the strap of his bag, grinning at the empty road where Suho had just disappeared.

“Well,” he said, exhaling. “That was interesting.”

Gotak nodded, still staring down at his sneakers like they were suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world.

For a few seconds, neither of them moved. Juntae started tapping his pen against his notebook absently, waiting for him to say something. Finally, Gotak cleared his throat. “So,” he said, voice a little higher than usual. “Uh… are you- are you walking home?”

Juntae glanced at him, lips twitching. “That’s the general plan, yeah. Why?”

Gotak tightened the grip on his bag strap. “I just thought… maybe I could, um… walk with you?”

Juntae stopped walking for a second, eyebrows raised. “You mean like, walk me home?”

“I mean, only if you want,” Gotak said quickly. “It’s fine if you don’t. Totally fine. I just figured- since we’re, you know, already headed in the same direction, and we just talked to Suho and everything, it might be… nice?”

Juntae tilted his head, considering him like he was a puzzle. “You’re really committed to this whole tutor thing, huh?”

Gotak’s ears turned pink. “It’s not- well, yeah, but also I just- ” He stopped himself, letting out a quiet groan. “I’m terrible at this.”

That made Juntae laugh, bright and effortless. “Relax,” he said. “You can walk with me.”

Gotak blinked. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Just don’t think this means I’m sneaking out to that party if Sieun’s not coming.”

“Right, right. Got it.” He smiled, a little too relieved.

As they fell into step together, Juntae glanced sideways at him, amused. “You know,” he said casually, “you’re pretty brave.”

“Brave?”

“Yeah,” Juntae said. “Most guys don’t even bother trying to get past Sieun. But you? You’re signing yourself up for the long game.”

Gotak shrugged, hiding a small grin. “Some things are worth it.”

For once, Juntae didn’t have a clever comeback.

-

The sidewalk stretched out ahead of them, long and mostly empty, except for the crows perched on power lines and the warm hum of late-afternoon cicadas. For a while, neither of them spoke. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, exactly. Just… new.

Gotak kept adjusting the strap of his bag, trying to find something to do with his hands. “Do you always walk home?” he finally asked, just to fill the air.

“Usually,” Juntae said. “Unless my brother picks me up, but that’s rare.”

“Right,” Gotak said. “I take the bus most days. I figured… this might be nicer.”

Juntae smirked. “Depends who you’re walking with.”

That earned him a startled glance. “Was that a compliment or an insult?"

“Both,” Juntae said, grinning. “Keeps you guessing.”

They walked past a row of small corner shops, the kind that sold cheap snacks and had fading posters in the windows. Every few steps, Juntae glanced over, curious.

“You were really nervous asking me that,” he said.

Gotak winced. “That obvious?”

“Painfully,” Juntae teased. “You looked like you were about to confess to a crime.”

“Well,” Gotak muttered, “it felt like one.”

For a moment, Juntae just looked at him. “You know, you don’t have to try so hard,” he said, voice softer than before. “If you want to hang out, just say so.”

Gotak blinked. “…Okay. Then I want to hang out.”

“Good,” Juntae said, smiling. “See? Easy.”

They walked a few more steps before Gotak cleared his throat.

“So… what do you think Suho’s gonna do? About Sieun, I mean.”

Juntae let out a low whistle. “Honestly? If anyone can get him out of the house, it’s Suho. He’s got this… thing about him. Like, he just decides something’s gonna happen, and it does.”

“You think Sieun likes him?”

Juntae shrugged. “Who knows? Sieun doesn’t even like parties. Or people. Suho’s got his work cut out for him.”

Gotak nodded slowly, tucking that away. “And if it doesn’t work?” he asked.

Juntae glanced at him, eyes bright with mischief. “Then you better come up with a Plan B, Tak-ah.”

By the time they reached the corner where their routes split, the sky was streaked orange and pink.

Juntae slowed to a stop. “Guess this is it.”

“Yeah,” Gotak said, reluctant to let the moment end.

Juntae looked at him for a second, then smiled. “Thanks for walking with me. See you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah,” Gotak said again, softer this time.

As he watched Juntae head down the street, Gotak realized his hands weren’t shaking anymore. 

Not bad for a first walk.

-

By the time Gotak got home, the sun had dipped completely behind the buildings, leaving everything in that in, between color of blue and violet.

He closed the door to his room and just stood there, bag still over his shoulder, like his brain hadn’t caught up with the fact that he was back.

He’d replayed the walk home at least ten times on the bus. Every step of it. The way Juntae had said Relax. You can walk with me. The way he’d laughed—bright, almost careless. The way, at the very end, he’d turned around with that smile that made the whole street feel warmer.

Gotak dropped his bag on his bed and sat down hard, running both hands over his face.

He’d been nervous before, sure. But this was ridiculous. His chest still felt tight, like he’d just sprinted a mile. And all they’d done was walk.

He thought about the moment before he asked, how his throat had gone dry, how his brain had come up with every possible excuse to not say anything. But then Suho had walked away, and there was this little pocket of silence, and suddenly it felt worse not to try. He almost hadn’t. But then Juntae had said yes.

Gotak leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

It hadn’t felt like tutoring today. Not really.

Not like some assignment or strategy to get close. It had just been… nice. And that terrified him a little.

Because now he knew that one walk home was enough to make his brain stop working properly.

What was going to happen if there were more?

Somewhere downstairs, he could hear the TV, his parents talking over the noise, the faint rattle of dishes. But in his room, it was just the echo of Juntae’s voice.

Gotak buried his face in his pillow and groaned. If this was what “helping” looked like, he was in trouble. Big trouble.

-

By the time Suho walked home, the sun was low enough to burn everything gold, and the whole way there, all he could hear was his own conversation looping in his head:

You want me to make him go.

Because you like him.

He hated how fast that kid, Juntae, had said it. No hesitation, no mercy. And worse, he hated that there wasn’t a good argument to throw back.

At home, Suho tossed his jacket on the back of a chair, dropped his bag by the couch, and just stood there for a moment, staring at the blank wall like it owed him answers.

How the hell do you convince someone like Yeon Sieun to go to a party?

This wasn’t like talking to anybody else. Suho sat on the edge of his bed, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

He didn’t hate me. That’s a start.

The truth was, Suho wasn’t even sure why he cared. There was something about the way Sieun kept everyone at arm’s length. Like he’d decided the whole world wasn’t worth the trouble. Suho didn’t know why that bugged him so much.

Maybe because he’d been there too, once. Sieun wasn’t shy, he just didn’t care. Didn’t care about popularity, noise, fun. He’d built himself this little fortress of silence, and Suho had seen enough today to know that most people never even got close to it. But for fifteen seconds in the library, he’d been inside. Just a crack.

He needed Sieun to see that being there wouldn’t be a trap. That it was just one night, and that there was at least one person who’d be looking out for him if he said yes.

The problem? Suho wasn’t good with plans. Normally, he just did things. But tonight, lying on his bed, he started going over every possible way it could go:

• Option A: Walk up tomorrow and just ask. Risk being shut down in two seconds flat.

• Option B: Find a reason. A trade. Something Sieun wants. (Except what did he even want?)

• Option C: Trick him. No. That wouldn’t work. He’d see it coming from a mile away.

Suho dragged a hand over his face. For some reason, none of these sounded as terrifying as they probably should have. The thought of him saying no—that, weirdly, mattered more than it used to.

Finally, he picked up his phone, opened a blank note, and typed three words: “Friday. Party. Try.”

It wasn’t a plan. Not yet. But it was a start. And the truth was, he was looking forward to trying.

-

When Suho stepped through the school gates, he’d already made up his mind. Today, he was going to talk to Yeon Sieun. For real this time. No weird interruptions, no excuses.

The courtyard was buzzing with the usual morning noise—shouts, laughter, a basketball bouncing somewhere near the gym.

But Suho wasn’t paying attention to any of it. His eyes went straight to the familiar figure by the bike racks.

Sieun.

He was exactly where Suho had guessed he’d be, back turned to the rest of the chaos, adjusting the strap on his bag. Even from a distance, you could see the difference. Everyone else was part of the noise. He was apart from it.

Suho slowed as he approached, pulse hammering a little harder than he liked. He’d spent all of last night thinking about what to say. Nothing had felt good enough. Now, standing a few feet away, he realized there wasn’t going to be a perfect line. You just had to say something.

“Morning,” Suho said.

Sieun glanced up, quick and sharp, like he was deciding in half a second whether to ignore him or not.

"…Hi,” he said, finally. Flat. Guarded.

“Busy?” Suho asked, nodding at the notebook Sieun was shoving into his bag.

“Not particularly,” Sieun said, but he didn’t slow down.

For a beat, Suho just stood there, watching him. He could feel the usual wall Sieun had up: quiet, solid, unmovable. Most people would have taken the hint and left. Suho stepped closer.

“You ever go to parties?”

That made Sieun pause, just a little. “No,” he said, like the answer was obvious.

“You should,” Suho said.

Sieun zipped his bag and straightened, eyes cool. “I don’t think so.”

Suho grinned, unbothered. “Come on. It’s not all bad. Music, food, people. You might even like it.”

“I doubt that,” Sieun said.

Something about his tone; calm, matter-of-fact, made Suho want to push a little harder.

“Tell you what,” Suho said, leaning casually against the bike rack. “Friday night. One hour. If you hate it, you can leave. No questions asked.”

“I’m not interested,” Sieun replied.

“Not even a little?”

“Not even a little,” Sieun said again, shouldering his bag.

He turned to leave, but Suho stepped in front of him—not close enough to be a threat, just enough to make Sieun meet his eyes.

“Then humor me,” Suho said, quieter this time. “Just one hour. You might find out the world’s not as boring as you think.”

For a long moment, Sieun just looked at him. And Suho could see it—the calculation, the faint spark of curiosity buried under all that apathy. It wasn’t a yes. But it wasn’t the flat dismissal he’d expected, either.

Finally, Sieun sidestepped him, walking toward the building.

Suho didn’t follow. He just let himself smile. Because that hesitation, that pause, was something. And something was all he needed.

-

Suho had been lying on his bed for over an hour, staring at the ceiling. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the same thing: Sieun, standing by the bike racks. The look on his face when Suho had stepped in front of him. Not annoyed, not really. Just… unmoved.

He exhaled and reached for his phone. If he wanted Sieun to come to that party, he was going to need a plan. Something specific. Something Sieun couldn’t just brush off with a one-word answer. He opened his notes app to type something out—just ideas, reminders, whatever came to mind.

Except in his half-distracted state, he didn’t open Notes. He opened his messages. And typed.

Suho:

okay. think. how do you convince a guy who hates people to come to a party without making it sound like a date?

He hit send before realizing which chat it was in. A beat later, the typing dots appeared.

Baku:

what the hell did i just read

Suho:

oh no

Baku:

OH YES

please tell me this is about who i think it’s about

Suho ran a hand down his face.

Suho:

ignore that. wrong chat.

Baku:

you typed 2 full sentences

that’s not “wrong chat,” that’s a cry for help

Suho:

i hate you

Baku:

no you don’t

you hate that you can’t stop thinking about sieun

Suho sat up in bed, glaring at his phone.

Suho:

it’s not like that

i just need him to come to this party.

Baku:

oh sure

for completely pure, academic reasons.

Another pause.

Baku:

do you want tips or should i just sit back and watch you implode

Suho:

i don’t implode

Baku:

you literally texted me a love confession by accident

Suho:

IT WAS NOT A LOVE CONFESSION

Baku:

screenshotted. framed. it’s my wallpaper now

Suho threw his pillow at the wall, even though it didn’t do anything.

Baku:

good luck tomorrow, romeo.

Suho:

stop calling me that.

Baku:

make him say yes, and maybe i’ll think about it

Suho dropped his phone on the bed, groaning into the pillow. This was going to be a long week.

-

Suho had just made it past the gates when he saw Baku.Which was never a good sign when Baku was already grinning like that.

“Morning, Romeo,” Baku said loudly, strolling up like he’d been waiting for this.

Suho groaned. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m starting,” Baku said, slinging an arm over his shoulder. “Wrong chat, huh?”

Gotak looked up from where he was leaning against a bench. “Wrong chat?”

Suho shot Baku a warning glare. “Drop it.”

Baku ignored him completely. “He texted me last night. A whole paragraph about how to make someone who hates people come to a party. Then tried to pretend it wasn’t about Sieun.”

Gotak blinked, then smirked. “You texted that?”

“I didn’t mean to!” Suho snapped.

“You hit send,” Baku said. “That’s on you.”

Gotak crossed his arms, pretending to think. “So the guy who doesn’t talk to anyone is your type now?”

Suho opened his mouth. Closed it. “I just- look, it’s not-”

“Not a crush?” Baku supplied, smug.

Suho dragged a hand through his hair. “It’s not a crush. I just want him to come. It’s part of the plan.”

Gotak looked at Suho. “You’re really going all in on this, huh?”

Suho’s jaw tightened. “He barely even looks at anyone. I’m just trying to get him to loosen up for one night. That’s it.”

“Uh-huh,” Baku said. “And absolutely nothing to do with the fact you like a challenge?”

Suho turned and started walking. “I’m not talking to either of you.”

Baku called after him, voice carrying across the courtyard. “Make sure you text me next time you want advice, Romeo!”

Gotak laughed under his breath, following. “You really set yourself up for that one,” he said.

Suho didn’t answer. But his ears were pink all the way to the building.

-

The cafeteria was loud as usual—metal trays clattering, people shouting across tables, the smell of food that was always a little too salty. Suho grabbed his tray, ignoring the looks people gave him as he cut through the crowd to their usual table. Baku and Gotak were already there, waiting.

“Romeo,” Baku greeted, grinning as Suho sat down.

Suho slammed his tray onto the table. “If you don’t stop calling me that-”

“You’ll what? Text me about it?” Baku teased.

Gotak leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. “Okay, seriously though. If Sieun doesn’t come, Juntae doesn’t come. If Juntae doesn’t come, I’m screwed. So.” He looked from Baku to Suho. “What’s the plan?”

Suho stabbed at his rice with his chopsticks. “I tried asking him this yesterday. He said no.”

“Shocking,” Baku said dryly.

“I thought if I just made it casual he’d say yes,” Suho said. “But he doesn’t even look at parties like something a human would do. He looks at them like a science experiment gone wrong.”

Gotak frowned. “Then why do you think you can make him go?”

“Because everyone has a crack in the armor somewhere,” Suho said.

“You just have to find the right angle.” Baku smirked. “And you think you’re the angle.”

Suho ignored him.

Gotak tapped his chopsticks against the table. “Alright, let’s think. What does Sieun even like?”

“School,” Baku said.

“That’s not helpful,” Suho said.

“No, seriously,” Baku said. “The guy spends all his time reading or studying. You’ve got to make the party sound like something he can control. If you just say ‘party,’ he hears ‘chaos.’”

Suho tilted his head, thinking.

Gotak added, “Or you need leverage. Something he wants that only you can give him if he comes.”

“Like what?” Suho asked.

Baku shrugged. “Figure that out. But if you make it about him instead of about the party, he might bite.”

There was a pause as all three chewed on that idea, Suho literally, the other two mentally.

Finally, Gotak said, “Could always lie and say it’s, like, a small study group thing.”

“That’s stupid,” Baku said. “He’d see through that in five seconds.”

“Better than nothing,” Gotak muttered.

Suho leaned back in his chair. “No. If I lie, he won’t trust me. It’s gotta be real. It’s gotta be… his choice.”

Baku gave him a slow grin. “Wow. You are serious about this.”

“Yeah,” Suho said simply.

For a moment, they all just looked at him. Then Baku said, “Alright, Romeo. Let’s make a list. Top three ways to lure a porcupine out of his den.”

Gotak pulled a napkin and a pen from his bag, muttering, “This is going to be the dumbest plan ever.” But he was smiling.

Baku spun the pen between his fingers. “Alright. Operation Sieun, take one. We need three ideas. Think fast.”

Gotak leaned forward. “Okay, number one: bribe him.”

Suho arched an eyebrow. “With what? Free flashcards?”

“Or food,” Baku added, smirking. “Everyone has a favorite snack. Find out his weakness.”

Suho snorted. “He doesn’t even eat in public.”

“Fine, next,” Gotak said, writting down anyway.

1. Bribe (snacks / tutoring)

Baku took the pen. “Two: make it sound like it’s not a party.”

Suho frowned. “You want me to rebrand a house full of drunk idiots?”

“Call it a ‘gathering,’” Baku said. “Or a ‘controlled social experiment.’ That guy looks like the type to be into experiments.”

Gotak grinned. “Yeah, tell him you’re observing high school mating rituals.”

Suho sighed, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

2. Rebrand the party (controlled chaos)

“Three,” Suho said, finally leaning in. “We need something only I can offer. Something that makes him curious. If he thinks it’s his choice to come, he might actually say yes.”

Gotak raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Suho stared down at the napkin. “I don’t know yet. But there’s gotta be something he wants that no one else can give him.”

Baku wrote:

3. Personal leverage (make it about him)

He capped the pen with a flourish. “There. The Official Napkin Plan.”

They sat back, looking at the scribbled list.

Suho exhaled, tapping the napkin with one finger. “This has to work,” Gotak muttered.

“Relax,” Baku said. “Romeo here’s got that look in his eye. You know the one.”

Suho rolled his eyes, but didn’t deny it. He pocketed the napkin like it was a battle map.

-

The last bell of the day had just rung. Sieun was—as always—one of the first out of class, cutting a straight line toward the bike racks. Suho was ready this time. He’d been leaning against the brick wall near the exit, waiting.

“Sieun,” Suho called.

Sieun didn’t break stride. “No.”

“I didn’t ask yet,” Suho said, pushing off the wall to follow.

“Doesn’t matter. If it involves a party, the answer’s no.”

Suho matched his pace. “Okay, but what if I told you it’s not really a party?”

Sieun gave him a flat look. “Then I’d say you’re lying.”

“Not lying,” Suho said quickly. “Look, no chaos, no drunk idiots. It’s more like… a controlled experiment. Music, a few people. You can leave whenever you want.”

Sieun adjusted the strap of his bag. “So, a smaller party.”

“A… curated environment,” Suho corrected, smirking a little at his own phrasing.

For a moment, Sieun almost looked amused. Almost. “You really think that works on me?” he asked.

Suho shrugged. “Can’t blame me for trying.”

“You could stop,” Sieun said, unlocking his car.

Suho shoved his hands in his pockets, biting back a laugh. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

Sieun didn’t answer. He got in his car and drowe away.

Suho stayed standing there long after, watching him disappear around the corner. “Not yet,” he muttered.

-

That evening, Suho was back at the same table in the quiet corner of the library. Baku and Gotak sat across from him, the napkin plan unfolded like a war strategy.

“Well?” Baku asked.

“He said no. Again,” Suho admitted.

“No shock there,” Baku said.

Gotak tapped the napkin. “Then we’re on to step three. Leverage. What does he want?”

Suho leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “That’s the problem. He doesn’t want anything. Not this school, not friends, not noise. He only trusts himself.”

“Then maybe it’s about that,” Baku said.

Suho frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You want him to come?” Baku asked. “Give him something he can’t get alone. Not stuff, not food. Something that makes him curious.”

Gotak nodded slowly. “Like a deal?”

Suho sat forward, elbows on the table. “If I can show him it’s not about the party,” Suho said slowly, “but about me showing up for him… he might consider it. He doesn’t trust people, but maybe he’ll trust that I’m serious.”

Baku raised an eyebrow. “So what, you’re gonna stand there and tell him, ‘I’ll be there the whole time just to make sure it’s not hell for you’?”

Suho looked at him. “If that’s what it takes.”

Gotak grinned. “That might actually work. He hates losing control. Offer him control.”

Baku smirked. “Look at Romeo over here. Planning to be someone’s emotional bodyguard just to get him to a party.”

“Call it what you want,” Suho said, pocketing the napkin again. “But tomorrow, I’m trying one last time. And this time, he’s going to see I mean it.”

Baku leaned back, hands behind his head. “This is either going to be genius or a total disaster.”

“Or both,” Gotak said.

Suho didn’t answer. In his head, the plan was already taking shape.

-

The hallways were thinning out as everyone headed home, but Go Hyuntak moved fast, dodging backpacks and swinging locker doors. He spotted Seo Juntae a few steps ahead, phone in hand, leaning against a pillar, looking like he had all the time in the world.

“Juntae!” Gotak called out, maybe too loud. A couple of freshmen turned their heads.

Juntae looked up lazily. “...Why do you sound like you just ran a marathon?”

Gotak slowed down, trying not to look like he was out of breath. “Me? No. I just- uh- wanted to talk. About… the thing.”

Juntae blinked. “The thing?”

“The party,” Gotak said, voice dropping a little, like it was a state secret.

“Right.” Juntae went back to scrolling on his phone. “I already told you. If Sieun doesn’t go, I’m not going.”

Gotak shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket, trying to look casual. “Yeah, yeah, I know. And that’s why you don’t need to worry, because… everything’s under control.”

That got Juntae’s attention. He glanced up, one brow raised. “Under control? With my brother? You sure?”

Gotak nodded firmly. “Completely. Suho’s handling it. He’s got a plan. Multiple plans, actually. Backup plans for the plans.”

Juntae tilted his head. “And you trust him with that?”

“Do I look like someone who trusts easily?” Gotak shot back, then winced. “Okay, bad example. But listen- Suho’s serious about this. He will get Sieun to agree.”

Juntae studied him for a long moment, skeptical.

Gotak tried again, softer this time. “Just… don’t write it off yet, okay? You want to go, right?”

Juntae hesitated. “If he goes. Otherwise, I’d rather not deal with all that noise.”

“And he will,” Gotak said quickly, a little too eagerly. “Trust me, by the time the party comes around, you’ll be there. And it’s gonna be… not awful.”

Juntae huffed out a quiet laugh. “You sound so sure.”

“I am sure,” Gotak said, even though a small voice in his head whispered, Please don’t let me be wrong.

Juntae tucked his phone away and started walking toward the gate. “You know, you’re kind of cute when you’re panicking.”

Gotak’s ears turned red as he followed. “I’m not panicking. I’m strategizing.”

“Mm-hmm,” Juntae said, smiling to himself.

They stepped out of the school gates, the afternoon light soft and slanting across the quiet street. Juntae walked with his usual unhurried stride, like the world bent around his pace. Gotak, on the other hand, kept his hands shoved deep in his hoodie pocket, sneakers scuffing at cracks in the pavement. For a while, neither of them spoke. It was strangely comfortable, though Gotak’s brain was running laps.

“So…” Juntae finally said, glancing sideways. “You were in the library earlier. With Suho and Baku, right?”

Gotak’s shoulders tensed. “Yeah. We were just… you know. Talking.”

“About how to make my brother go to a party?”

Gotak coughed into his sleeve. “Something like that.”

“And you think it’ll work?”

“Yes.” Gotak’s answer was instant, like he didn’t dare hesitate. “I mean, it has to. Suho’s got this whole plan worked out.”

Juntae hummed. “Suho always looks like he has a plan. Doesn’t mean it’s a good one.”

That made Gotak grin a little despite himself. “Fair point.”

They walked another block before Juntae spoke again, a little softer this time. “You don’t actually like parties, do you?”

Gotak blinked. “Me? Uh… not really.”

“Then why do you care so much?”

Gotak hesitated. “Because… I think it’ll be good. For him. For your brother. And…” He swallowed. “And because I… kinda want to see you there.”

Juntae stopped walking for half a second, then started again. “That’s bold.”

Gotak’s ears burned. “Forget I said that.”

“No,” Juntae said, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “I think I’ll remember it.”

They reached the intersection where they usually split off. Juntae shifted his bag strap and glanced at Gotak.

“You walking this way?”

“Yeah,” Gotak said, then, after a beat: “Uh, do you… mind if I walk you all the way home?”

Juntae raised an eyebrow. “Is that part of Suho’s plan, too?”

Gotak rubbed the back of his neck. “No. That one’s just mine.”

Something in Juntae’s expression softened. “Alright then,” he said, turning down his street. “But don’t trip over your own feet from nerves.”

Gotak huffed out a laugh. “I’ll try.''

And for the rest of the walk, the air between them felt lighter, like maybe, just maybe, things really could work out.

-

The house was quiet except for the clinking of chopsticks against bowls. Dinner at their household was always like this: neat, efficient, silent.

Juntae pushed some rice around his bowl and glanced across the table at his brother. Sieun sat with his usual calm posture, eyes on his plate, expression unreadable.

“So,” Juntae said, too casually.

Sieun didn’t look up. “So?”

“You, uh…” Juntae stabbed a piece of kimchi. “You heard about that party this friday, right?”

There was a pause.Sieun finally looked at him, just for a second. “…Why?”

Juntae shrugged, trying to look bored. “No reason. Just- people were talking about it at school.”

Sieun returned to his food. “People always talk about parties.”

“Yeah, but like…” Juntae hesitated. His next words came out in a rush. “You thinking of going?”

This time, Sieun didn’t even bother to look at him. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s loud, crowded, and pointless.”

Juntae opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. “You know, not all of them are that bad. Sometimes… they’re just… fun?”

That earned him a very slow glance, the kind that said 'Why are you suddenly defending parties?'

Sieun’s voice was flat. “You want to go?”

Juntae froze, his chopsticks hovering midair. “I mean… if you went, maybe.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Sieun went back to eating.

“Don’t make plans around me.”

And that was that. Conversation over. Juntae sat back in his chair, frustrated, chewing on his lip.

In his head, Gotak’s voice echoed: Suho’s got this. Everything’s under control.

-

Juntae was lying on his bed, one arm flung over his eyes, phone in his other hand. He’d already replayed the dinner conversation in his head five times. It wasn’t getting better.

Finally, he opened his messages and scrolled to 'Tak-ah :->'

Juntae:

tried to ask him about the party at dinner

A reply came quickly, like Gotak had been waiting.

Gotak:

and???

Juntae:

worst. idea. ever.

Gotak:

how bad are we talking

Juntae:

like

arctic tundra bad

i brought it up and he looked at me like i’d just insulted math

Gotak:

ok. dont panic. suho said he has a plan

Juntae:

yeah but if your plan doesn’t work

we are so dead

Gotak:

hey

relax

i told you

everything’s under control

Juntae:

you sound very confident for someone who’s literally never been to one of these things

Gotak:

don’t ruin my moment

Juntae smirked at his phone, fingers flying.

Juntae:

fine. but if this blows up in our faces

i’m telling everyone it was your idea

Gotak:

worth it

Juntae tossed his phone aside and stared up at the ceiling. He needed to do something about this.

He got up and went to a direction of Sieuns room.

He hovered in the doorway for a full minute, rehearsing lines in his head. Finally, he stepped in. “Hey,” he started.

Sieun didn’t look up. “What.”

“I need to ask you something.”

“That already sounds annoying,” Sieun said, flipping a page.

Juntae let out a slow breath. “Can you… just consider going to that party?”

There was no response. Just the sound of a pen scratching.

“I’m serious, Sieun.”

Sieun sighed and finally looked at him, expression sharp. “Why?”

Juntae hesitated, then decided honesty was the only way. “…Because I want to go. With someone.”

“Then go.”

“It’s not that simple!” Juntae dropped down onto the floor across from him. “You know the rule. If you don’t go, I can’t go.”

Sieun’s face didn’t change. “That rule exists for a reason.”

Juntae clenched his fists on his knees. “Please. Just this once.”

“Why?” Sieun asked again, quieter this time.

Juntae swallowed. “Because it’s… Gotak.”

That made Sieun blink. “Go Hyuntak?” he said, like he couldn’t believe it.

Juntae nodded quickly. “Yeah. He’s- he’s not like the other guys, okay? He’s… nice. He’s been helping me with French. And I just… I really want to be there if he is.”

For the first time, there was a flicker of something, curiosity maybe, in Sieun’s face. “You like him,” he said, flat, like it was a fact.

Juntae didn’t even try to deny it. “Yeah. I do.”

There was a long pause. The room felt heavy. Then Sieun turned back to his book. “I still don’t like parties.”

“I know,” Juntae said softly.

“But… if you were there, I wouldn’t care about anyone else.”

That made Sieun glance at him again. This time, he studied him for a long, quiet moment before looking back down. “I’ll think about it,” he said at last.

Juntae exhaled so hard he nearly fell over. “Seriously? You’ll think about it?”

“Thinking isn’t agreeing,” Sieun muttered.

Juntae grinned anyway, backing out of the room like he’d just won a battle. It wasn’t a yes. But it wasn’t a no, either. And that was more than he’d hoped for.

Juntae:

ok listen

i did it

Gotak:

…did what

Juntae:

i asked him

straight up

and he didn’t say no

Gotak:

???

translate

Juntae:

he said

“i’ll think about it”

For a few seconds, there was no reply. 

Then-

Gotak:

THAT’S HUGE

Juntae:

ikr

i thought he was gonna glare me into the afterlife

Gotak:

so wait does that mean

like

there’s a chance?

Juntae:

yeah

but i told him it was because of you

The typing bubbles appeared. Stopped. Appeared again.

Gotak:

…you WHAT

Juntae:

relax

i didn’t say you like me

just that i wanted to go cause of you

Gotak:

jun

why would you do that

Juntae:

cause it’s true duh

Juntae lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling with a grin he couldn’t fight off.

Juntae:

so yeah

maybe get ready

this might actually happen

Gotak:

im

not ready at all

Juntae:

then start getting ready

Juntae tossed the phone onto his chest and let out another long, happy breath. For the first time all week, it felt like things were finally moving.

-

Morning sunlight spilled through the kitchen window, turning the breakfast table into a stage. Their dad sat at the head, as usual, reading the paper with his coffee. Sieun was on one side, perfectly composed, silently working through a bowl of cereal. Juntae was pacing.

“Dad,” Juntae began, trying to sound casual and not like he’d been thinking about this all night.

“Mm,” their dad replied without looking up.

“So… there’s this party. On friday.”

The paper rustled down just enough for one sharp, skeptical look. “You know the rule.”

“I know,” Juntae said quickly, throwing up his hands. “But hear me out.”

Sieun glanced at him from behind his spoon, saying nothing.

“I’ve been… responsible lately,” Juntae said. “I’ve been doing my homework, I’m getting better at French-”

“Why are you studying French?” their dad asked, cutting him off.

Juntae paused, caught. “…Because it’s… romantic?”

Sieun coughed into his cereal.

“Anyway,” Juntae said louder, glaring at his brother, “I just think maybe this one time you could let me-”

Their dad folded the paper, leaning back. “Does your brother want to go?”

Juntae hesitated. “He… might.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“He said he’d think about it!” Juntae blurted. “And that’s basically a yes. Right, Sieun?”

Sieun, still eating calmly, didn’t even look at him. “I said I’d think about it. That’s all.”

Their dad turned back to Juntae. “If he goes, you can go.”

Juntae groaned, running a hand through his hair. “That’s not fair! You know he hates parties.”

“Then convince him,” their dad said simply, reopening his paper.

“But-”

“End of discussion.”

Juntae slumped into a chair, burying his face in his arms. Across from him, Sieun quietly chewed, expression perfectly blank, but there was a faint upward curve at the corner of his mouth.

“Why do you enjoy ruining my life?” Juntae muttered.

“Because it’s easy,” Sieun replied, deadpan.

-

The hallways were just starting to fill with the low roar of voices and the slam of lockers. Gotak had just pulled out his French textbook when a heavy arm suddenly dropped across his shoulders. “Morning, Romeo.”

Gotak nearly dropped his books. “Baku- what?”

“You look chipper,” Baku said, grinning like a cat. “Something happen last night? Oh wait- don’t tell me. I heard a little rumor.”

Gotak froze. “What rumor?”

“That our resident golden boy Juntae actually begged his brother to go to a party. For someone.” Baku leaned in. “Ring any bells?”

Heat crept up Gotak’s neck. “It’s… not like that.”

“Oh, it’s exactly like that,” Baku said, enjoying himself. “You realize the only reason he’d risk pissing off Sieun is if he really wants to go with you. Which-” he tilted his head—“respect.”

Gotak shut his locker a little too hard. “It’s not… like that. He just likes parties.”

“Uh-huh. And you just happen to be the French tutor who suddenly became the reason he’s willing to plead with the ice prince?” Baku chuckled. “Buddy, you’re the plot of a teen rom-com right now.”

Gotak tried to keep walking, but Baku followed, relentless.

“You ready for friday? You got an outfit? You gonna ask him to slow dance?”

“Stop,” Gotak muttered, clutching his books tighter. “I don’t even know if Sieun’s going. If he says no, none of this matters.”

“Suho’s handling that part,” Baku said like it was obvious. “And trust me, when that guy wants something done, it gets done. All you gotta do is… show up.”

Gotak glanced at him, wary. “Show up?”

“Yeah,” Baku said, smirking. “And maybe figure out how not to faint when your crush talks to you.”

The bell rang overhead. Gotak sighed, muttering, “This was a mistake,” as he walked faster, but Baku’s grin just widened as he called after him: 

“Don’t forget, Romeo- This friday! Practice your small talk!”

-

French class was never quiet, but that morning it felt like every sound was cranked up to eleven. Gotak sat near the middle row, textbook open, trying desperately to look normal. Baku’s teasing still buzzed in his head like a mosquito: Romeo. Party. Small talk. Slow dance. He sank lower in his chair.

And then Juntae walked in. Late, as always, with that easy grin that made everyone in the room glance up. But this time, he wasn’t looking at anyone else. He looked straight at Gotak.

Gotak immediately ducked his head, flipping through pages he’d already read three times.

“You’re late,” the teacher said sharply.

“Sorry, won’t happen again,” Juntae replied automatically, sliding into the empty seat beside Gotak. Of course. That seat.

“Hi,” Juntae whispered, leaning slightly toward him.

Gotak cleared his throat. “Hi.”

Neither of them looked at each other after that. Not really. But every time Gotak’s eyes drifted sideways, he caught Juntae doing the exact same thing. Like some silent, awkward staring contest.

Across the aisle, Sieun sat with his arms crossed, pretending to take notes. But his sharp eyes caught every glance, every twitch.

When the teacher asked a question in French and Gotak answered perfectly, Juntae muttered under his breath, “Show-off.”

Gotak’s mouth tugged up before he could stop it. “Maybe you should practice more.”

For half a second, Juntae forgot how to breathe. 

Sieun, watching, pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a long class.

-

The bell rang, and the scraping of chairs echoed through the room as everyone started packing up. Gotak closed his textbook slowly, trying not to look like he was in a hurry, but his hands felt a little clumsy. Juntae was right next to him, standing and slinging his bag over one shoulder.

For a moment, they were the only two at the table. “Uh-” Juntae started, voice a little too loud. He winced and tried again, quieter. “Hey, um… about friday-"

Gotak glanced up. His heart did that sudden leap thing, but before he could answer, Sieun appeared at Juntae’s other side, sliding his notebook into his bag without a word. The temperature of the classroom seemed to drop a few degrees.

“About friday?” Sieun asked mildly, one eyebrow lifting as if he hadn’t just been listening the entire time.

Juntae’s mouth opened and closed. “I- uh- it’s nothing. Homework. Right, Tak-ah?”

“Homework,” Gotak echoed, clutching his book like a shield.

Sieun looked between them once, slow and considering, before saying, “Then you’d better get started,” and walked out of the classroom ahead of them.

The second he was out of earshot, Juntae groaned and muttered under his breath, “I swear, he has like, sonar or something.” Gotak tried not to laugh but couldn’t help it.

“You were gonna say something?” he asked, quieter now.

Juntae ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, but… I’ll tell you later. When it’s… you know. Safer.”

Gotak nodded, still smiling, and they fell into step behind Sieun like two kids who’d been caught sneaking cookies before dinner.

-

The school courtyard was mostly empty after the last bell, the winter light thin and sharp. Suho leaned against the brick wall near the exit, bag slung over one shoulder, watching students drift past. And waiting. Waiting for him. He’d spent the whole day thinking about that moment in PE class.

About the way Sieun didn’t even flinch when people stared at him, like he existed in a bubble no one else could touch. And the longer Suho watched, the more that calm distance felt like a dare.

Finally, the familiar tall, straight-backed figure appeared—Sieun, walking alone, earbuds in, steps brisk like he had somewhere better to be. Suho pushed himself off the wall. Alright. No more excuses.

“Yeon Sieun.” No response.

“Sieun,” Suho repeated, stepping right in front of him.

That got him a pause. Just a pause, not even a look.

Sieun pulled one earbud out slowly, like this interruption had already cost him more patience than Suho deserved. “…What.”

Up close, Sieun’s eyes were even colder than they looked from across a room. Suho felt something in his chest tighten, not fear, exactly, but a weird sharp awareness, like looking down the barrel of a challenge.

“Walk with me,” Suho said.

“No.”

“I’m walking anyway,” Suho said easily, falling into step beside him before Sieun could argue.

The first five steps were silent. Then ten.

Suho kept talking, because if he didn’t, his brain was going to eat itself. “You don’t like people much, huh.”

“Correct.”

“You don’t like parties either, right?”

“Correct.”

“You don’t like me either, I’m guessing.” That got a glance—quick, assessing, and faintly amused.

“I don’t know you,” Sieun said simply. “And I’d like to keep it that way.”

Suho grinned despite himself. “Ouch.”

“Do you need something?” Sieun asked, stopping just before the gates. “Because if this is about your reputation or some prank-”

“No.” Suho’s voice was suddenly firmer than he expected. “It’s about a party on friday.” Sieun stared at him like he’d just started speaking in another language.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. There’s a party. You should come.”

Sieun actually laughed once, quiet and sharp. “You dragged me out here to tell me that? I don’t go to parties.”

“Yeah, I know,” Suho said. “That’s kind of the point.”

Sieun narrowed his eyes. “And why do you care whether I go or not?”

There it was—the moment Suho had been thinking about all day. He could say it outright: Because if you go, Juntae can go, and if Juntae goes, Gotak gets a chance. But the words stuck. Instead, what came out was:

“Because you always look like you’re waiting for a reason not to be bored. And this one might surprise you.”

Sieun blinked, just once. No reaction on his face, but Suho saw it, the brief flicker of curiosity.

“And if I say no?” Sieun asked.

“Then I’ll just keep asking,” Suho said with a shrug. “You can ignore me all you want, but I’m not going anywhere.”

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Finally, Sieun adjusted his bag on his shoulder and said, “You’re annoying.”

“Most people would say persistent.”

“They’re synonyms,” Sieun muttered, putting his earbuds back in.

But as he walked away, Suho caught the smallest pause in his stride, like maybe, just maybe, he was thinking about it. And that was all Suho needed.

-

Suho was lying on his bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. Every second since that courtyard conversation had been replaying like a stuck video. The way Sieun had looked at him—calm, sharp, like he could see straight through him. And the way he hadn’t said no. It felt like a win. Kind of. He needed to tell someone. So he grabbed his phone and made a fatal mistake.

Suho:

He didn’t say no.

Three dots popped up almost instantly.

Baku:

…who

Suho:

Sieun.

Another pause. 

Baku:

WAIT.

YOU TALKED TO HIM??

Suho hesitated before typing back.

Suho:

Cornered him after school.

Told him about friday.

The typing bubbles came back like rapid machine gun fire.

Baku:

LMAO BRO

YOU JUST STRAIGHT UP HIT ON A VOLCANO

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

Suho:

I didn’t hit on him.

I just told him to come.

Baku:

SAME THING

Oh my god. Suho. Are you crushing on him? Please tell me this is still about Juntae and not your new hobby.

Suho groaned, rolling over so hard his pillow fell off the bed.

Suho:

Focus.

Is he gonna say yes or no?

Baku:

Hmm. Knowing him?

…No.

But I hope he does.

Suho:

Thanks for the vote of confidence.

Baku;

Don’t thank me, I just want front row seats to you getting roasted.

Also: I can’t believe you, of all people, are doing all this matchmaking.

Suho stared at the screen a moment, thumb hovering. He typed slowly:

Suho:

It’s not just matchmaking.

And then, before Baku could respond, he locked his phone and threw it across the bed.

-

The cafeteria in the morning was quieter than at lunch—half-asleep students, the faint smell of burnt toast, and the sound of trays clattering. Juntae sat across from his older brother, hands wrapped around a carton of milk he hadn’t opened yet. He’d been staring at Sieun since they sat down, trying to find the right way to start. Every plan he rehearsed in his head ended with no.

“Stop glaring,” Sieun said, not looking up from his book. “You’re going to wrinkle your forehead.”

“I’m not glaring,” Juntae said quickly. “I just… need to ask you something.”

“Homework?” Sieun flipped a page.

“No, not homework,” Juntae said. He leaned forward. “It’s about friday.”

Sieun’s eyes finally flicked up, sharp as a blade. “Party.”

Juntae froze. “You already know?”

“You think Suho Ahn ambushing me in front of the school yesterday wouldn’t reach my ears again by morning?”

Juntae’s shoulders slumped. “Look, I have to go.”

“Why.”

“Because-” He stopped. Because Gotak will be there. Because if he dosen't go, he won’t get another chance. “Because… I just want to go,” he finished lamely.

“You just want to go,” Sieun repeated, expression flat.

“Yes.”

“No.”

Juntae groaned. “Why not?!”

“Because I said no,” Sieun said simply, going back to his book. “Parties are a waste of time.”

“But it’s not even about you!” Juntae said, voice rising. “It’s about me! Can’t you, just for one night, not ruin this for me?"

The book closed with a quiet, ominous thud. Sieun looked at him then, really looked, like he was trying to figure out what made this so important. “…You want to go that badly?”

Juntae hesitated. “Yeah. I do.”

Sieun’s gaze softened for a fraction of a second, though his voice stayed even. “I don’t like crowds. I don’t like noise. And I don’t like being dragged somewhere just because someone else doesn’t know how to handle a two-hour evening without me.”

“Please,” Juntae said, his voice dropping, almost a whisper now. “I promise I won’t ask for anything else.”

For a long moment, the only sound was the cafeteria around them. Finally, Sieun sighed. “If I did go… would you stop staring at me like a desperate puppy?”

“Yes,” Juntae said instantly.

“Then I’ll think about it,” Sieun said, standing and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “But don’t ask me again before I decide.”

Juntae blinked, barely believing what he’d heard. “Wait- you mean there’s actually a chance? You weren't lying in the room before?"

Sieun didn’t answer. But he didn’t say no either.

Hearing this, Juntae left the cafeteria and immediately started running.

He spotted Gotak at his locker, balancing a stack of books, and practically sprinted over. “Gotak!” Juntae hissed, skidding to a stop. “You will not believe what just happened.”

Gotak blinked, looking up from his books. “Uh… good morning?”

“No time for morning,” Juntae said, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the stream of students. “Listen. I talked to my brother.”

Gotak’s heart instantly jumped into his throat. “About…?”

“The party!” Juntae said, eyes wide. “I begged him to let me go.”

“And?” Gotak’s voice cracked halfway between dread and hope.

“And-'' Juntae leaned in, practically vibrating. “He didn’t say no.”

Gotak stared at him. “…What do you mean he didn’t say no?”

“I mean, he said he’d think about it!”

Gotak’s books nearly slipped out of his hands. “That’s… that’s huge! Are you serious?”

“Yes!” Juntae said, grinning so hard his face hurt. “I thought he’d shut me down right away, but he didn’t! He actually listened.”

Gotak’s brain started racing. If Sieun was thinking about it, that meant Suho’s ambush yesterday had worked. That meant, for once, the plan wasn’t completely doomed.

“What did you even say to him?” Gotak asked.

“I just… told him how much I wanted to go,” Juntae admitted. “I think he saw I was serious.”

Gotak nodded slowly, trying to hide how relieved he felt. “That’s good. That’s really good. If he says yes-”

“Then I can finally go!” Juntae said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Which means you can go. Which means-”

“-which means everything depends on your brother,” Gotak finished, a little more cautiously.

For a moment, both of them stood there, caught between excitement and panic. “You think Suho can get him to say yes?” Juntae asked quietly.

Gotak hesitated. “I think… if anyone can, it’s him. He’s stubborn enough.”

Juntae let out a breath. “Okay. Okay. We just need to wait.”

“Yeah,” Gotak said. And for once, it almost felt like they had a chance.

-

Back at the cafeteria, Suho sat with his back to the crowd, absently peeling the label off a water bottle. Baku dropped his tray with a crash.

“News,” Baku said, grinning as he sat down. “Big news.”

Suho barely glanced up. “You’re chewing too fast again?”

“No, idiot. Juntae.”

That got Suho’s attention. “What about him?”

Baku leaned in, lowering his voice like he was about to share state secrets. “Word is, he cornered his brother this morning. About the party. And you know what?”

Suho raised an eyebrow. “What.”

“He didn’t say no.”

The corner of Suho’s mouth twitched.

"…Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Baku said. “Apparently, Sieun’s thinking about it. Which means your little ambush yesterday didn’t go to waste.”

A few tables over, Gotak was trying very hard to pretend he wasn’t listening while Juntae pushed peas around on his plate. 

“Do you think they’re talking about us?” Juntae whispered, sneaking a glance.

“Probably,” Gotak muttered, watching Suho from the corner of his eye. “And you’re terrible at whispering.”

Back at Suho’s table, Baku kept going. “I can’t believe this is working. You know, for a guy who pretends not to care about this school, you’re turning into a professional manipulator.”

Suho shrugged. “I just gave him a nudge.”

“A nudge?” Baku snorted. “You practically cornered him like a debt collector.”

Suho’s eyes flicked across the room, landing briefly on Sieun’s empty seat, then on Juntae and Gotak whispering together. “Doesn’t matter how. What matters is he’s thinking about it.”

“And if he doesn’t come?” Baku asked.

“Then we make sure he does,” Suho said calmly, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

At the other table, Gotak leaned toward Juntae. “Okay, good news: if Suho’s that confident, I think you might get your wish.”

“You think so?” Juntae’s voice was tight with hope.

Gotak nodded, forcing a little grin. “He doesn’t look like someone who’s about to give up.”

Baku followed Suho’s gaze to their table and smirked. “You planning on telling them you’re basically playing cupid?”

“No,” Suho said, finally taking a bite of his food. “Let them think it’s luck.”

“Dangerous luck,” Baku said. “You sure about Sieun? He doesn’t exactly scream ‘party guy.’”

“I’m sure about him,” Suho said. “And that’s the problem. He’s so sure of himself, someone needs to shake it.”

For a few moments, the cafeteria was just noise again, but there was a shift—tiny, invisible threads pulling the tables together.

Gotak and Juntae pretending not to hope. Baku pretending not to be entertained. And Suho, already planning his next move.

-

The hallway after lunch was still buzzing, but quieter than the chaos of the cafeteria. Juntae had been talking non-stop since they left the table, voice full of excitement. “I’m telling you, he looked confident,” Juntae said, practically skipping next to Gotak. “Baku said it, you saw it! Suho’s got this under control.”

Gotak shoved his hands in his pockets, walking slower. “Yeah. He seemed… confident.”

“You don’t sound convinced,” Juntae said, glancing sideways at him.

“I am,” Gotak said quickly, then sighed. “I just-” He stopped. There were too many people around. “Come on. Let’s go outside for a sec.”

They ducked out through the side door to the quiet courtyard, where the only sound was the wind in the bare trees. Juntae folded his arms, waiting.

Gotak took a breath. “What if your brother says yes?”

Juntae frowned. “Then… we go to the party. Isn’t that the whole point?”

“Yeah, but…” Gotak shifted on his feet. “Then it’s real. The party. You and me. Suho and Sieun. And I just keep thinking…” He trailed off, the words catching in his throat.

“What?” Juntae pressed. “What are you thinking?”

Gotak let out a long exhale. “That I’ve wanted this for so long I don’t even know what to do if it actually happens.”

Juntae blinked. “Wait- you’re nervous?”

“Of course I’m nervous!” Gotak blurted out, then rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks without sounding like an idiot. Now there’s a whole party depending on your brother, and Suho’s somehow involved, and-"

Juntae’s mouth curved into a small, teasing smile. “You think I’m worth all that panic?”

“Yes,” Gotak said before he could stop himself. Then, quieter: “Way more than that.”

For a second, neither of them said anything. The wind picked up, scattering a few leaves across the path.

Finally, Juntae nudged him with his shoulder. “You worry too much. Sieun will say yes.”

“You’re that sure?”

“I’m that sure,” Juntae said with a grin. “And when he does, you better not chicken out.”

Gotak laughed under his breath. “Yeah. No promises.”

As they started back inside, Gotak realized his hands weren’t shaking anymore. Talking about it hadn’t fixed everything, but somehow… it felt lighter now.

-

The library was almost empty after classes—just the hum of the heater and the occasional scrape of a chair. Sieun sat at the far table, books spread in neat lines, his pen tapping quietly against the page.

Suho spotted him the moment he walked in. No hesitation this time. This wasn’t luck. This was planned. He crossed the room slowly, deliberately, the sound of his shoes muffled by the thin carpet.

Sieun didn’t look up at first.But when a chair scraped against the floor across from him, his pen froze. “…What are you doing?” Sieun asked, voice low.

“Studying,” Suho said, sitting down like he had every right to be there.

“There are other tables.”

“I like this one,” Suho replied, leaning back in his chair.

Sieun’s eyes flicked up for a second, sharp and unreadable.

“You’re persistent,” he said finally.

“Some things are worth being persistent about,” Suho said.

The air between them felt heavier than the stacks of books on the table. Suho wasn’t pushing hard, just enough. “I heard,” Suho said casually, “you haven’t said no to the party.”

Sieun’s pen tapped again. “People should stop talking about things that aren’t their business.”

“Maybe,” Suho said, “but they’re right, aren’t they?”

There was no answer. Only the steady sound of Sieun’s pen. Suho leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“Why not just say no?” That got Sieun’s attention. He set the pen down and looked at Suho directly for the first time since he sat.

“Why do you care?”

Suho didn’t look away. “Because I think you’d hate it less than you think.”

Sieun held his stare for a long moment, eyes cold but curious. “You don’t know me.”

“Not yet,” Suho said simply.

A faint crease appeared between Sieun’s brows, something almost like frustration—or maybe confusion.

Finally, he picked up his pen again. “You’re wasting your time.”

“Maybe,” Suho said. “I’ve wasted it on worse things.”

There was no victory in that moment, but no dismissal either. Sieun didn’t tell him to leave.

Suho stayed for a while, silent now, just sitting there while Sieun went back to his notes. And for Suho, that was enough for today. Not a win. But not a loss either.

-

The clock on Gotak’s bedside table read 11:37 p.m., but there was no way he was sleeping. His phone buzzed.

Juntae.

He answered before the second ring.

“You’re awake,” Juntae said, voice low like he was sneaking this call.

“So are you,” Gotak said. “What’s up?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” Juntae admitted.

Gotak smiled faintly in the dark. “About what?”

“The party,” Juntae said. “What if my brother really says yes? What if we actually go?”

Gotak rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing.”

“And?”

“And… I have no idea,” Gotak said honestly.

“I keep picturing it,” Juntae continued. "Like… walking in. People everywhere. Music. And then, I don’t know. Just-”

“Just what?”

“Just us,” Juntae said quietly.

Gotak swallowed hard. “Yeah. I picture that too.”

There was a silence on the line, not uncomfortable, just heavy. “You think Suho can really make it happen?” Juntae asked after a while.

Gotak hesitated, then said, “Yeah. He’s… determined. He’ll figure out a way.”

Juntae laughed softly. “He’s scarier than my brother, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Gotak said. “But in a good way.”

Another pause.

“Hey,” Juntae said suddenly, “if we do end up going… will you stay with me? Like, the whole time?”

The question landed heavier than it should have. “Of course,” Gotak said immediately. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” Juntae murmured. “Then I think I’ll be okay.”

Neither of them spoke for a while after that. “You should sleep,” Gotak said eventually. “Big day tomorrow. Your brother’s gonna be in a mood.”

“Yeah,” Juntae sighed. “Night, Gotak.”

“Night.”

Gotak lay there long after the call ended, phone still in his hand, the faint sound of Juntae’s voice stuck in his head.

-

The house was quiet except for the low hum of the fridge and the faint wind tapping at the window. Sieun was in his room, leaning back against the wall, the glow of his desk lamp washing everything in pale yellow. He’d been trying to read the same paragraph for ten minutes.

Through the wall came muffled sound—Juntae’s voice. Laughter, then softer words.

Sieun sighed and tried to ignore it, but the wall between their rooms wasn’t built for secrets. He closed his book, listening.

Juntae: “…the party… what if we actually go?”

The word “party” made Sieun sit up straighter. So that was what this was about. There was a pause, then another voice. Not clear enough to make out—just low tones, a boy’s voice. Sieun’s eyes narrowed.

Gotak.

Juntae again: “…if we do end up going… will you stay with me? Like, the whole time?”

Sieun froze.

The answer came faint, muffled. And then Juntae’s voice, even quieter: “Good. Then I think I’ll be okay.”

For a long moment, Sieun just sat there, staring at the blank wall.

So that was the game. Juntae wanted something. Wanted it badly enough to plot behind his back.

He rubbed at his forehead, irritation and a strange twinge of protectiveness mixing together. A party. Of all things.

When he heard the faint goodnight and the click of a phone ending, Sieun finally stood up and crossed to his own bed, but he didn’t lie down. He just sat there in the dim light, thinking.

Thinking about:

• Who exactly this Go Hyuntak thought he was.

• Why Suho was suddenly everywhere he turned.

• And why he was getting dragged into this at all.

By the time he lay back, his expression was set. If they thought they could just corner him into going, they were wrong.

-

Homeroom was loud. Too loud for this early. Sieun sat in his usual spot by the window, notebook open, pen balanced in his fingers. From the outside, he looked like he was just waiting for class to start.

Inside, though, his focus was elsewhere.

Go Hyuntak walked in.

Normally, Sieun barely registered him—another background presence in the chaos of school. But today, after overhearing that late-night call, every detail stood out. Gotak’s grin as he stepped through the door. The way his eyes automatically scanned the room, looking for someone.

And sure enough, when he spotted Juntae across the classroom, his whole expression changed. Softer. Sieun watched the exchange silently. The little wave. Juntae’s shy return. No one else noticed. But Sieun did.

Gotak slid into his seat, pulling out a notebook.

He laughed at something Baku said across the aisle, easy, natural—but when Juntae leaned over, asking something in a low voice, Gotak straightened instantly, giving him his full attention. Like no one else existed.

Sieun’s pen tapped once, twice, against the paper. A rhythm to ground himself. He wasn’t used to paying attention to things like this. He didn’t want to be paying attention to things like this. But now he couldn’t unsee it.

Gotak laughed again, softer this time, and leaned in to explain something to Juntae, their shoulders almost touching.

And in that moment, Sieun knew. Whatever was happening between them wasn’t just “study sessions.”

The bell rang, breaking the moment. Gotak looked up. Juntae smiled.

The bell hadn’t even finished echoing when Sieun snapped his notebook shut. He shoved it into his bag with a precision that was closer to anger than neatness. He just wanted to get out of the room.

But before he could stand, a shadow fell across his desk. “You have a second?”

Sieun looked up, already knowing who it was.

Suho. Perfect.

He stared at him flatly. “No.”

“That sounded like a yes,” Suho said, leaning an elbow on the desk like they were old friends.

Sieun didn’t even blink. “You really don’t know how to listen, do you?”

“Guess not,” Suho said easily. But there was something in his voice—calm, steady, almost amused.

Around them, the room buzzed with voices and footsteps, everyone trying to leave. Sieun could feel eyes starting to flicker their way.

Exactly what he hated. “What do you want?” he asked, voice low.

Suho tilted his head. “Just wondering why you’re so allergic to talking to people.”

“That’s your question?” Sieun said. “You walked all the way over here to say that?”

“Pretty much,” Suho said. “Well. And to ask if you’ve decided whether you’re going to the party.”

Sieun’s expression didn’t change, but inside something went sharp. “I don’t do parties,” Sieun said, standing.

Suho didn’t move out of the way. He looked at him closely, really looking, like he was trying to piece him apart.

“You know,” Suho said, “I think that’s a waste. You seem like you’d be a lot more fun than you pretend to be.”

Sieun’s eyes narrowed. “And you seem like you don’t know when to stop.”

He shouldered past him, the edge of his bag brushing Suho’s arm.

But Suho didn’t reach out, didn’t grab him. He just said, lightly, “See you around, Sieun.”

And Sieun didn’t look back, but every step out of the classroom felt heavier than it should.

Meanwhile, Suho stayed standing by the desk, watching the door with the hint of a grin, but behind it, his mind was already working out his next move.

-

Lunch was halfway over when Juntae found him.

Sieun had picked one of the quieter benches outside, away from the main crowd. It wasn’t exactly peaceful, nothing at this school was, but at least he could hear himself think out here. Or he could, until his little brother sat down across from him with all the subtlety of a marching band.

“Don’t say no,” Juntae said immediately. Sieun didn’t even look up from his book.

“No.”

“I said don’t say it!”

He sighed and marked his place with a finger. “What do you want?”

“The party,” Juntae said, leaning forward. “Can we talk about it? Just once? Please?”

Sieun finally closed the book. “You saw Suho in the classroom, didn’t you?”

Juntae blinked. “What?”

“You saw him,” Sieun repeated, voice cool. “What is it with you people? Did you all decide I’m some sort of school project?”

Juntae’s face went pale. “No! It’s not like that. I just… I really want to go. That’s it.”

“And you can’t go unless I go,” Sieun said.

“…Yeah.”

“Why?"

Juntae opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again. “Because… because I don’t want to go alone. And Gotak’s gonna be there, and I-" He stopped abruptly.

Sieun’s eyes narrowed. “So that’s what this is about.”

“It’s not-” Juntae started, panicked, but Sieun cut him off with a sharp gesture.

“And Suho?” Sieun asked, tone like ice.

“He just happened to bring it up today? Same party?” Juntae hesitated.

“That’s a coincidence?”

Juntae groaned. “I didn’t ask him to talk to you!”

Sieun leaned back, studying him. “You really want this.”

“…Yeah,” Juntae said quietly. The silence stretched.

Finally, Sieun picked up his book again. “You’re asking the wrong person,” he said.

Juntae blinked. “What?”

“You want to go? Convince Dad. I’m not changing just so you can follow some guy around.”

Juntae’s shoulders slumped, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he stood, muttering, “I will.”

Sieun didn’t watch him leave. He kept his eyes on the page, but the words blurred, unreadable.

Go Hyuntak. Suho. All of them trying to move pieces around me.

His pen tapped once against the edge of the bench. This is getting out of hand.

-

Juntae barely made it halfway down the corridor before a hand closed around his arm. He jumped. “Tak-ah!”

Gotak dragged him into an empty stretch by the lockers, looking around like they’d just committed a crime. “What did he say?”

Juntae blinked. “Who?”

“Your brother!” Gotak hissed, eyes wide. “You talked to him, right? I saw you. You were out there on the bench for, like, forever. Did he say yes? Did he-”

“He said no,” Juntae muttered, shoulders slumping.

The words hit Gotak like a punch. He froze, mouth open. “…No? As in no-party-no?”

“Yeah,” Juntae said, voice low. “And he knows about Suho now too, so congratulations. Everything’s ruined.”

Gotak’s stomach dropped. “Wait- how does he know about Suho? What happened?”

Juntae leaned back against the lockers, burying his face in his hands. “He saw him talking to me in class. Then he figured it out. I tried to ask him and he just… cut me off.”

Gotak paced a few steps, hands in his hair. “This is bad. This is- this is catastrophic!”

“Why do you care so much?” Juntae asked finally, peeking through his fingers.

Gotak stopped pacing. “Because if he doesn’t come, you don’t come. And if you don’t come-" He bit his tongue before finishing.

Juntae tilted his head. “And if I don’t come…?”

Gotak flushed. “Never mind!”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Gotak squared his shoulders, like he’d just made a life-altering decision. “Okay. Don’t panic. We can still fix this.”

“Fix what?”

“This!” Gotak said, gesturing wildly. “We’ll make sure Sieun goes to that party. No matter what it takes. Trust me.”

Juntae frowned. “You’re awfully confident for someone who’s terrified of him.”

“I’m not terrified,” Gotak said. Then, quieter: “…just mildly terrified. There’s a difference.”

Despite himself, Juntae snorted. “Yeah, okay. Good luck with that.”

Gotak pointed at him. “No. Good luck with us. This is a team effort now. And we’re not giving up.”

As they started walking back toward class, Juntae glanced at him sideways. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you like it,” Gotak said without thinking.

The words hung between them. Juntae didn’t reply, but the tips of his ears went red. Gotak pretended not to notice.

-

By the time Juntae got home, the house had that quiet hum of early evening—the sound of dishes in the sink and the low murmur of the TV in the living room. Juntae lingered at the bottom of the stairs, bag hanging loosely from his shoulder. He could hear his dad flipping through a newspaper, and for a second he almost just went up to his room.

Almost.

He walked into the living room. “Dad?”

His dad looked up from the paper, brow raising. “What?”

Juntae shifted his weight from foot to foot. “There’s, um… this thing. On Friday night. A party. I already told you about it before."

His dad’s eyes narrowed in that way that always made Juntae feel twelve years old. “Who else will be there?”

“Pretty much everyone,” Juntae said. “And Hyuntak. And-"

“And your brother?”

Juntae hesitated. “That’s… the problem. He doesn’t want to go.”

His dad leaned back, arms crossing. “You know the rule, Juntae. No parties unless your brother goes too.”

“I know,” Juntae said, trying not to sound whiny. “But this is important! It’s not just a random thing, it’s-”

“It’s still a party,” his dad interrupted. “And I’m not changing the rule because you suddenly feel like being social.”

Juntae pressed his lips together. He could feel frustration buzzing at the back of his throat. “I’ve been good,” he tried. “Grades, behavior, everything. Can’t you just- just this once?”

“No,” his dad said, picking up the paper again. "Your brother doesn’t want to go. That’s final.”

“But-”

“Juntae,” his dad said sharply.

The argument hit a wall. Juntae stood there for a moment, staring at the floor, hands tightening around the strap of his bag.

Finally he said, quietly, "What if I can convince him?”

His dad glanced up. “If you can convince Sieun to go, then you can go. But I’m not doing this back and forth with you all week. Understood?”

Juntae nodded. “Yes.”

“Good,” his dad said, already turning the page.

Back in the hallway, Juntae let out a long, slow breath. And for the first time since the conversation with Sieun, a tiny flicker of hope returned. Because Gotak had promised—we can fix this.

He texted Gotak before heading upstairs:

Juntae:

He said if I convince Sieun, I can go

So… plan still alive

Juntae’s phone buzzed almost immediately after he sent the text.

“Tak-ah?” His voice was tired but hopeful.

“Juntae, dude! This is great news!” Gotak’s voice came rushing through the speaker, breathless like he’d been pacing nonstop.

Juntae smiled despite himself. “I’m glad you think so.”

“No, seriously, this changes everything. If your dad’s on board, it means the only hurdle is Sieun. We can work with that."

Juntae shifted his weight, gripping his phone a little tighter. “Yeah, but convincing him? That’s the hard part.”

Gotak was quiet for a second. “Okay, okay, so here’s what we do: we start small. Like, casual. No pressure. Just get him comfortable with the idea of going.”

“Easier said than done,” Juntae muttered.

“No, listen,” Gotak said quickly, “I can set it up so you two have a reason to talk about the party without it feeling like an ambush.”

“How?” Juntae asked, curiosity piqued.

“Leave that to me. I’m going to be around when Suho tries to charm him, so maybe we can double team? Make it less… awkward?”

Juntae laughed softly. "Double team. Great.”

“Hey, if it works, who cares how corny it sounds?” Gotak said, grinning. “We’re gonna make this happen. No way I’m letting you sit this out.”

Juntae felt a small warmth in his chest. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Gotak said. “Now get some sleep, we’ve got a lot to plan tomorrow.”

Juntae ended the call and stared at the ceiling.

Step one: convince Dad.

Step two: soften up Sieun.

-

The morning air was crisp, carrying the low murmur of the waking city. Juntae and Gotak walked side by side down the quiet street, backpacks slung over their shoulders.

“Hey,” Gotak said, eyes scanning ahead.

Juntae followed his gaze. There, just a few steps in front, was Sieun, headphones on, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets.

Gotak exchanged a quick look with Juntae and nodded. “Now or never.”

They quickened their pace and soon caught up to Sieun. Gotak cleared his throat softly.

“Morning,” Gotak said, voice casual.

Sieun glanced up, eyebrows slightly raised, but said nothing.

Juntae stepped in, offering a small, genuine smile. “Hey, Sieun.”

Sieun pulled out one earbud, eyeing them warily. “Morning.”

Gotak tried to keep it light. “So, party this Friday.”

Sieun’s eyes flicked to Gotak, expression neutral.

“Yeah,” Gotak continued, “thought it might be… fun. You know, some music, people hanging out. Nothing crazy."

Sieun’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Not really my thing.”

Juntae glanced at Gotak, who shrugged with a half-smile.

“Well, maybe it’s worth giving it a shot? Could be good to get out of the usual routine.”

Sieun hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I’ll think about it.”

They fell into step behind him as they reached the school gates.

Inside, the halls buzzed with students. Sieun’s attention snapped to Suho, leaning casually against a locker, eyes watching him with a quiet intensity.

Suho pushed off the locker and walked over, a calm smile on his face. “Heard you might be coming to the party."

Sieun raised an eyebrow. “And you’re happy about that?”

Suho shrugged, but there was warmth in his voice. “Yeah. It’s not just about the party. It’s about having people around who get you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Sieun looked down for a moment, then back up at Suho. “Maybe.”

Suho nodded. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Sieun gave a faint smile. “Okay. I’ll go.”

Suho grinned. “Good.”

The bell rang, and the crowd surged forward.

-

Juntae and Gotak sat side by side on the bench outside school, the chatter of students swirling around them like background noise. Juntae’s phone buzzed. A quick glance — a message from Sieun.

Sieun:

Okay. I’ll go.

Gotak’s eyes widened, a slow grin spreading across his face. "No way. He actually said yes?”

Juntae smiled, a mix of relief and disbelief washing over him. “Yeah. He said ‘okay.’ Not ‘maybe’ or ‘we’ll see.’”

Gotak nudged him playfully. “Dude, you’re a legend. I knew we could do this.”

Juntae shook his head, laughter bubbling up. “Wouldn’t have happened without you and Suho.”

Gotak’s grin softened, eyes glinting with excitement. “Now all we gotta do is make sure it’s a party worth showing up for.”

Juntae nodded, feeling the weight lift from his shoulders. "For once, maybe things will go our way.”

They exchanged a look, a quiet promise that this was only the beginning.

Suddenly, Gotak stood up.“Okay, so we’ve got Sieun coming, right? We can’t just wing this.”

Juntae nodded, tapping a finger against his lips thoughtfully. “Right. We need a plan, something that keeps it chill but fun, so Sieun doesn’t feel overwhelmed.”

Gotak grinned. “I was thinking we scope out the place beforehand. Make sure there’s a safe spot if anyone gets too wild.”

Juntae smiled at the thought. “And maybe get a heads-up on who’ll be there. We don’t want any surprises.”

They pulled up a group chat on their phones, adding Suho and Baku to coordinate.

“Also,” Gotak added, “we need to make sure we’re all looking out for each other. If things get sketchy, we get everyone out."

Juntae’s eyes flicked up, serious. “Yeah. No one’s getting left behind.”

They shared a determined look— not just planning a party, but building a small team to keep each other safe.

“Okay,” Gotak said, clapping his hands once.

“Let’s make this night one to remember- for all the right reasons.”

Juntae smiled, feeling a spark of hope. “Together.”

The sky had turned dusky blue, streaked with pink as Juntae and Gotak made their way home, backpacks slung loosely over their shoulders. They were still talking about tommorow night, their voices low but animated.

“So,” Gotak said, kicking a pebble along the sidewalk, “you really think he’s gonna be okay at the party?”

Juntae glanced sideways at him, smiling faintly. “Yeah. Suho will keep an eye on him. And us. That’s kind of his thing.”

As they rounded the corner, a familiar voice called out: “Juntae!”

Both froze.

Juntaes dad was standing at the gate of their house, arms crossed, expression sharp as always.

Gotak straightened, suddenly feeling like he was back in middle school. “Uh… evening, sir.”

Juntae forced a casual tone. “Hey, Dad.”

His father’s eyes flicked between the two boys. “What are you talking about?”

Juntae took a breath. “You know...tommorows party. We were just… making plans to go.”

His father’s eyes lingered on Gotak, then back to Juntae. “And your brother?”

“He’s coming,” Juntae said. “Actually, that’s the point. Sieun never does stuff like this, and I want to go. So I kind of need him to come with me.”

For a moment, something softened in his expression. “You’re saying this party depends on him.”

Juntae nodded. “Yeah. We’ll be careful. Promise.”

Another long pause. Then: “We’ll talk about it at dinner,” his father said finally.

Juntae exhaled, relieved it wasn’t an immediate no.

Gotak grinned faintly. “Thanks, sir.”

As they walked past the gate, Juntae whispered: “That could have been worse.”

Gotak smirked. “You think he likes me now?”

Juntae shot him a look. “Let’s… not push our luck.”

-

The dining table was always quiet, but that night the silence felt heavier. The clink of chopsticks on bowls filled the room until their dad set his down with a deliberate tap.

“So,” he began, voice calm but carrying weight, “this party.”

Juntae froze mid-bite. Across from him, Sieun lifted his eyes just enough to glance at his brother.

“It’s tommorow night, right?” He asked.

“Yes,” Juntae said carefully.

“And you,” his father turned to Sieun, “are going too?”

Sieun set his bowl down, his tone flat but honest. “Apparently, I have to. Otherwise he doesn’t get to go.”

Juntae shot him a pleading look. “Come on, Sieun-”

“I’m just saying what’s true,” Sieun said, completely unbothered.

Their father leaned back, arms crossed. “Why is it so important to you, Juntae? You’ve never cared about things like this before.”

Juntae hesitated. He couldn’t exactly say 'Because Gotak will be there.'

Instead, he said: “I want to be around people from school for once. And… it’s important to me. It’s not like I’m asking to stay out all night.”

Their dad’s gaze was sharp. “Parties can be trouble. You understand that?”

“Yes, dad,” Juntae said quickly. “We already promised to be careful. It’s not going to be wild.”

“And there will be drinking?”

Sieun’s voice cut in before Juntae could answer. “If there is, I’ll make sure he doesn’t touch it.”

Their dad looked at him, surprised by the certainty in his voice.

Sieun added, “If you really want me to go, I’ll keep an eye on him. That’s the deal.”

A long pause followed. Then he nodded slowly. “You both come home by 11. And no calls from the school. Clear?”

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

Relief spread through Juntae like warm water. Across the table, Sieun picked up his chopsticks again, unfazed.

When their dad left the table a few minutes later, Juntae leaned toward his brother. “You’re seriously going to go?”

Sieun didn’t look up. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Juntae grinned, barely able to contain his excitement.

-

Suho lay on his bed, one arm thrown over his forehead, the glow of his phone screen lighting up the ceiling in patches. The house was quiet except for the faint hum of traffic outside. He’d been half-dozing when the message came in.

Juntae:

He said yes. Dad’s letting us go. Sieun’s coming. Officialy.

For a moment, Suho just stared at the words, blinking. Then he sat up, his pulse kicking like he’d just stepped into a fight.

“He’s really coming,” he murmured under his breath.

All that work—Baku’s teasing, Gotak’s awkward plans, every careful nudge they’d made—finally paid off.

But now came the hard part. Getting through to Yeon Sieun wasn’t like approaching just anyone.

Suho rubbed a hand over his face, leaning back against the headboard. In his head, he replayed their first interaction in the library: Sieun’s quiet, sharp gaze, the way he seemed to size him up like an equation he already knew the answer to. And that faint flicker of curiosity beneath all that irritation.

Plan A: Catch him before the party.

Plan B: Talk to him at the party.

His phone buzzed again.

Baku:

Heard the good news. Don’t blow it, lover boy.

Suho snorted, typing back.

Suho:

You really enjoy this, don’t you?

Baku:

Every second. Try not to get punched before the night’s over.

He tossed the phone aside, exhaling slowly.

It was weird, feeling nervous. He’d never been the nervous type. But with Sieun, every word had to matter.

Leaning back, Suho whispered to himself,

“Alright, Yeon Sieun. You’re finally going to let me in. Even if I have to earn it the hard way."

His eyes closed, already thinking about how to corner him tomorrow without scaring him off.

Chapter Text

The morning sun barely crept through the thin curtains of Gotak’s room when the panic hit. He had opened his closet with the intention of just grabbing something casual for school. Instead, he stood there frozen, staring at his clothes like they were a foreign language.

It’s just a party. Just a normal, completely casual, not-at-all-important party, he told himself.

Then, like a whisper, another thought crept in: Except Juntae’s going. And I’m walking with him. And this is the first time we’re going somewhere together that isn’t school.

He groaned and flopped back on his bed, covering his face with a pillow. Why had he thought this was a good idea?

Five minutes later, he was back up, pulling out every shirt he owned, tossing them on the bed.

Blue? Too basic.

Black? Too serious.

That hoodie? Too sloppy.

His room started to look like a storm had passed through.

“Okay, Hyuntak,” he muttered at his reflection in the mirror. “You just need to look… normal. Not desperate. Not like you’ve been thinking about this since last night.”

The reflection stared back, unimpressed. He grabbed his phone and typed a quick message to Juntae.

Gotak:

Do you think people are gonna dress nice at the party or just… normal? Asking for a friend.

He hovered over send. Deleted it. Rewrote it. Deleted it again.

He’s going to think I’m losing my mind, Gotak thought.

Finally, he settled on a white t-shirt and a clean overshirt that made him look—hopefully—effortlessly casual. Then he stared at it on the hanger for another solid five minutes, second-guessing everything.

By the time he left for school, he was still pulling at his sleeves, still muttering under his breath, and still very much convinced that if he messed this up, the entire universe might end.

Juntae was waiting at the corner, schoolbag slung over one shoulder, hair catching the early light. He was scrolling lazily through his phone, completely unaware of the emotional hurricane heading his way.

Gotak took a deep breath. Okay. Just… normal. Say hi, walk, don’t overthink it.

“Morning!”

The word came out way too loud. Juntae blinked up, startled. “…Gotak, why do you sound like you’re about to give a speech?”

“I don’t. That was a casual greeting.”

“Uh-huh,” Juntae said, slipping his phone away. His eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re… really put together today. What’s the occasion?”

Gotak shoved his hands into his pockets, trying for cool and failing. “No occasion. This is just… my normal face. My normal clothes. Everything’s normal.”

“Right,” Juntae said, clearly unconvinced but amused. They started walking.

For a few minutes, Gotak focused on breathing, trying to not let his heart leap every time their shoulders almost brushed. Then he glanced sideways, forcing a casual tone: “So, uh… you excited? About, you know. The thing.”

“The party?”

“Yeah! The party. I mean, it’ll be fun. You don’t need to worry or anything. Everything’s under control.”

Juntae raised an eyebrow. “Under control? Gotak, you sound like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me."

Gotak opened his mouth, closed it, and muttered, “I’m just saying, it’s gonna be good.”

Across the street two figures leaned against a low wall, watching.

Baku nudged Suho with his elbow. “Look at your guy. He’s sweating bullets.”

Suho didn’t take his eyes off them, a faint grin playing on his face. “And you said I was the one acting obvious.”

“I didn’t think it was contagious,” Baku said. “Seriously, if Juntae doesn’t figure out he’s got that kid wrapped around his finger, I’ll be impressed.”

Suho tilted his head slightly, following Sieun’s little brother’s carefree walk and Gotak’s stiff posture beside him.“They’ll be fine,” he murmured. “Today’s going to be interesting.”

As the pair turned the corner out of view, Baku glanced sideways at him. “You ready for your turn?”

Suho exhaled slowly, his grin sharpening. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

-

The school hallways were buzzing, lockers slamming, groups gathering like swarms.

Gotak kept telling himself he was fine. Totally fine. Except he wasn’t—because every time someone brushed past, he was hyper-aware that Juntae was walking next to him.

Juntae glanced sideways as they reached his locker. “You’ve been staring straight ahead like a robot since we got here.”

Gotak blinked. “What? No. I’m just focused. Laser-focused on school."

“Laser-focused,” Juntae repeated, clearly entertained. “That’s why you almost tripped over that first-year just now?”

“I didn’t trip. That was a strategic sidestep.”

Juntae smirked and leaned against his locker, arms crossed. “You know, for someone who says everything’s under control, you’re acting like someone who’s never seen a hallway before.”

Gotak groaned. “I am under control. It’s just… new. This whole… thing. The plan. The party. Walking here with you every day like-”

“Like what?” Juntae asked, curious.

Gotak realized what he was about to say, choked on it, and quickly changed course. "Like nothing. Never mind.”

From a few lockers down, someone whistled low. Baku, leaning casually with Suho, called out, “Looking sharp today, Gotak! Big plans?”

Gotak froze mid-motion, ears turning pink. Juntae snickered under his breath.

“Ignore him,” Juntae said, still laughing as he twisted the combination on his locker.

“Are they going to the party too?” Gotak asked, nodding toward Suho and Baku.

“Obviously,” Juntae said. “Otherwise, none of this would even be happening.”

Gotak muttered something under his breath about the world’s worst wingmen and started shoving his books into his locker just so he wouldn’t have to look at anyone.

Juntae tapped the side of his locker door, grinning. “You know, Gotak, you’re kind of bad at acting normal.”

Gotak slammed the door shut. “Yeah, well, normal’s overrated anyway.”

And even though he sounded defensive, there was a tiny, traitorous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as they headed toward class.

-

The cafeteria was its usual mess: trays clattering, kids yelling across tables, someone already spilling juice near the vending machines. At the back, a table of four looked out of place—like they had no business sitting together.

Suho sat on the far end, silent but sharp-eyed, half-leaning back as though nothing in here could surprise him.

Baku lounged next to him, spinning a plastic fork between his fingers, clearly entertained by the situation.

Opposite them sat Gotak, who was poking at his food like it had personally wronged him.

Beside him, Juntae had his chin in one hand, idly scrolling through his phone.

“Is it me,” Baku drawled, “or do we look like we’re plotting a coup?”

“We are plotting something,” Juntae said without looking up. “Which is why he-" he nodded toward Suho “-keeps staring at the door like Sieun’s gonna magically appear.”

Gotak made a noise somewhere between a cough and a laugh. “Feels like a stakeout.”

Suho ignored all of them.

Then, like clockwork, Sieun stepped in. Tray in hand, expression neutral, heading for his usual corner table.

“Target acquired,” Baku muttered.

“Don’t say it like that,” Gotak hissed, suddenly adjusting his hoodie like that would make him invisible.

Suho didn’t hesitate. “Sieun.” The voice carried across the cafeteria.

Sieun stopped mid-step, turned his head, and saw all four of them watching him. “…What?”

“Come here,” Suho said simply.

Sieun gave them a flat look like this was the last thing he wanted to do.

But after a pause—and some very obvious stares from everyone in the room—he sighed and walked over, setting his tray down at the edge of their table. “What?”

“Thanks,” Suho said.

Sieun blinked. “…For what?”

“For agreeing to go to the party,” Suho said, calm as ever.

“I'll change my mind,” Sieun said immediately.

Gotak, panicking, jumped in. "You can't! If you don't go then Juntae won't go, and if Juntae can't go then-” He froze, realizing where this sentence was going.

Juntae looked over, eyebrows lifting. “Then what?”

Gotak stammered, face red. “…Then, uh- we can all study? Together? It’s like group academic bonding. At a party.”

Baku snorted into his drink. “Wow. Smooth. Very convincing.”

Sieun stared at all of them, unimpressed. “You’re all insane."

“And yet,” Suho said, tilting his head slightly, “you’re going.”

For a moment, Sieun said nothing. Then he exhaled, long and slow, as if regretting his life choices. “You’re all idiots,” he muttered, grabbing his tray and moving to sit elsewhere.

As soon as Sieun’s back disappeared into the far end of the cafeteria, Baku leaned back in his chair, smirk spreading across his face like wildfire.

“Well,” he said loudly enough that the nearby table turned to look, “that was the most subtle thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

Suho ignored him, calmly picking up his water bottle.

“Oh no, no, don’t you dare act like that was nothing,” Baku continued, jabbing his fork in Suho’s direction. “You called him across the entire cafeteria like you were summoning a dog. And he came. That’s power, man. That’s… that’s terrifying.”

Gotak still had his head in his hands. “Can we not talk about this? I’m already dying of secondhand embarrassment.”

“You?” Baku said.  "At least you didn’t try to flirt with ‘we can all study together.’ I almost fell out of my chair.”

Gotak peeked between his fingers, groaning. “I panicked, okay?”

Juntae, who had been quiet up to now, suddenly smiled. “It was pretty bad,” he said, looking at Gotak. “You really need to work on that. You sounded like you were inviting him to a science fair.”

“Hey!” Gotak protested, voice cracking slightly. “Do you know how hard it is to talk to your brother when he looks like he hates me?”

Baku grinned wider. “That’s because he does.”

Suho finally cut in, tone casual, but there was an edge of amusement in his eyes. “He doesn’t hate you. He just hates everyone by default. You have to earn the upgrade to ‘tolerated.’”

“Cool,” Gotak said, slumping back in his seat. “Love that.”

“And you,” Baku said, pivoting back to Suho, “don’t think you’re off the hook. I’ve never seen you do that before. Call someone over like that. Like-” He pitched his voice low and mock-serious. “‘Sieun. Come.’”

Even Juntae cracked up at that, biting his knuckle to keep from laughing out loud.

Suho gave Baku a slow, unimpressed look. “Are you done?”

Baku leaned closer, grinning. “Not even close. This is going to carry me for the rest of the week.”

“Fine,” Suho said, standing, grabbing his tray with that same calmness that always seemed to unsettle people. "You’ll be even more entertained at the party.” With that, he walked off.

Baku stared after him, still grinning. “Oh, I cannot wait,” he said. Then, looking at Gotak and Juntae: “This is gonna be better than cable TV.”

Gotak groaned again, dragging his hands down his face.

Juntae, smirking, said, “You know what’s funny? He’s right. This is going to be a disaster.”

-

The hallway outside the cafeteria was quieter, but the muffled chaos behind them still hummed like background noise.

Suho walked with his usual unhurried pace, tray balanced in one hand, eyes forward. Behind him, Baku jogged a few steps to catch up, calling out: “Hey. Hold up, Romeo.”

Suho didn’t slow down. “Don’t call me that.”

Baku matched his stride easily, leaning sideways a little so he could catch Suho’s expression. “You know, you can’t just do what you did back there and think I’m not gonna talk about it. You’re way too calm for someone who just blew up the social hierarchy of this school.”

Suho glanced at him, a brow lifting slightly. “Social hierarchy?”

“Yes,” Baku said, dead serious. “Pulling Sieun across a cafeteria like that? The guy who doesn’t even breathe near other people? That’s, like, school-shattering. You can’t just act like it’s no big deal.”

Suho pushed open the door to the courtyard, stepping outside. “And yet,” he said, “it was no big deal.”

Baku followed, grinning like a cat who’d cornered a mouse. “No. Uh-uh. You’re not doing that thing where you pretend you don’t care. You clearly care.”

“I asked him a question,” Suho said simply.

“You thanked him for coming to a party.”

They stopped by the edge of a bench, Suho setting his tray down, pulling out his water.

“And?”

“And,” Baku said, planting himself right in front of him, “you have a plan. I’ve seen that look before. It’s the same one you get before you punch someone in the face. Except this time it’s, I don’t know, an emotional punch. Or… something else.”

Suho unscrewed the cap, calm as ever. “You think too much.”

“And you talk too little,” Baku shot back. Then, with a grin: “So just admit it. You like him.”

Suho didn’t answer. He just took a slow sip of water, eyes fixed somewhere past Baku’s shoulder.

“Oh my god,” Baku said, laughing. “You do. I knew it! This is incredible. You, Ahn Suho, breaking your scary silent guy streak for him? That’s a rom-com.”

Suho finally lowered the bottle, one corner of his mouth tilting up. “Are you done?”

“Not even close,” Baku said, flopping down on the bench like he was settling in for a long show. “I’m telling you now, at that party? I’m bringing popcorn.”

Suho shook his head once, the faintest hint of a smile ghosting over his face before it vanished again. “Do what you want.”

Baku grinned. “Oh, I will.”

-

The last bell rang like a gunshot, releasing the whole school into the streets. Gotak and Juntae found themselves side by side on the familiar path home, their backpacks bumping as they walked. For a while, neither said much. The afternoon was too heavy with the thought of what was coming:

The party.

Gotak cleared his throat for what had to be the fourth time in a minute. “You know,” he started, fiddling with the strap of his bag, “it’s… uh… good. That he said yes. To the party. Sieun, I mean.”

Juntae glanced at him, one brow arched. “Yeah. Good.”

Gotak kicked a pebble into the gutter, trying to sound casual. “It’s just that now… you know… there’s, like, a lot riding on it.”

Juntae smirked. “Riding on it? You mean you.”

“What? No!” Gotak sputtered, color rising to his ears. “I just- I mean, yeah, it’s a good chance to, like, hang out. Talk. In a normal way. Like normal people do.”

“Right,” Juntae said, his grin widening. 

“Totally normal. You panicking over what to wear later is very normal too.”

Gotak groaned. “Don’t remind me. That’s a nightmare waiting to happen. I’ve never been to one of these things, Juntae. Half the time I don’t even know what I’m doing here. With you. With… all of this.”

Juntae tilted his head, suddenly a little softer. “You’re fine. You’re overthinking it. Just… be yourself. You’ve been tutoring me for weeks. If I can survive that, you can survive a party.”

That made Gotak laugh, a bit shaky. “Wow. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

As they reached the corner where they usually split ways, Juntae hesitated. “It’s gonna be fine,” he said, more serious now. “Especially if Suho’s there. He’s good at keeping chaos away. Just… trust him.”

Gotak nodded slowly, watching Juntae walk away with that easy confidence. “Yeah,” he muttered to himself, “trust Suho. Great. That makes one of us.”

Group Chat Name: Party Disaster Control

Baku:

Okay, question.

Does Gotak own more than one shirt?

Gotak:

???

Baku:

Just saying, today's the big night, Romeo Jr.

Gotta look good for your Juliet.

Gotak:

Please stop calling him that.

Baku:

Oh relax, I already roasted Suho for the cafeteria thing.

Now it’s your turn.

Team “Hopelessly Obvious Boys.”

Suho:

Don’t you have better things to do?

Baku:

No. Watching you two implode is my new hobby.

Speaking of, Gotak.

You nervous?

Gotak:

…Maybe.

Baku:

Good.

Keep that energy.

Later's gonna be a show.

Gotak throws his phone face-down on the bed, groaning. Somewhere on the other side of town, Baku is almost certainly laughing out loud, and Suho is probably planning his next move like nothing phases him.

And Gotak? He’s never wished more that he knew what he was doing.

-

The house was unusually loud for a friday evening. Juntae’s room looked like a storm had torn through it. Clothes everywhere, his phone blaring some playlist, and Juntae himself standing in front of the mirror, holding up two shirts like they were a matter of life or death. From across the hall, Sieun leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“You know,” Sieun said, voice dry as ever, “you’re acting like you’re going to war.”

“This is war,” Juntae shot back. “If I wear the wrong thing, Gotak’s gonna think I’m an idiot. I need something cool but not like… trying too hard.”

“You always look like you’re trying too hard,” Sieun said.

“Thanks. That’s really helpful, Sieun,” Juntae said, turning back to the mirror. “Wait. Does this one make my shoulders look weird?”

Sieun blinked. “…Why would I care about your shoulders?”

“You’re impossible,” Juntae muttered. “Just- just go get ready, okay? You promised.”

Ten minutes later, Sieun was staring at his own reflection. He didn’t even want to be doing this. Parties were loud, chaotic, full of people trying to talk at him. If it weren’t for Juntae’s pleading—and Suho showing up in the cafeteria—he would never have agreed.

Still, he tugged on a simple black shirt, neat enough not to look sloppy. He paused, caught himself thinking about whether Suho would even notice.

Then he scoffed out loud. “Ridiculous,” he muttered. “It’s just a party.”

By the time they clattered down the stairs, their father had already peeked over his newspaper with a raised brow. “Don’t be late,” he said, which in his language meant I can’t stop you, but I’ll know if you come home at 3 a.m.

Juntae grinned. “We won’t!”

The sky was a dark violet when they stepped outside. Three figures leaned against a car parked at the curb.

Gotak was pacing like a trapped animal, tugging at the collar of his jacket every few seconds. Every time his foot hit the ground, he glanced up at the door, like he couldn’t decide whether to run or wait. Baku lounged against the hood, phone in hand, smirking like he was watching a sitcom only he understood. And Suho—Suho stood with his hands in his pockets, perfectly still, like he had all the time in the world.

Juntae froze at the top of the steps. “Oh my god,” he whispered. “They’re already here.”

Sieun followed his gaze, his expression unreadable. His eyes swept over them once—stopping, just for a second, on Suho—and then he started down the path.

Gotak saw them first. His face lit up like a light bulb. “Hey!” he said, voice coming out a little too loud, and then immediately cleared his throat, trying to sound casual.  “Uh… you guys ready?”

“Obviously,” Juntae said, grinning. “We’re not the ones who’ve been standing outside like stalkers.”

“Not stalkers,” Baku said, straightening. "Observers.”

Suho didn’t say anything. He just opened the back door of the car, his gaze meeting Sieun’s for a brief second. A silent acknowledgment.

For some reason, Sieun felt that look in his chest. Like the air tightened, just for a heartbeat.

Juntae, of course, missed all of that. “Shotgun!” he yelled, already running for the front seat.

“Wait- Juntae!” Gotak said, scrambling after him, panic on his face. “Don’t leave me in the back-!”

Baku snickered, leaning over to Suho. “This is gonna be fun.”

Suho’s lips curved into the smallest, almost invisible smile as Sieun walked past him and slid into the car. The engine hummed to life, a low rumble filling the quiet evening air.

Juntae slammed the passenger door with a grin so wide it could split his face in two. “This is it!” he said, practically vibrating with excitement.

Gotak squeezed into the back, tugging nervously at his sleeves, eyes darting between the dashboard and the rearview mirror. He gave Suho a shaky thumbs-up, but his fingers twitched like he was ready to bolt.

Baku, lounging in the middle seat, smirked and immediately pulled out his phone. “Alright, someone better have snacks ready. I don’t do parties without snacks.”

Suho’s gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, catching Sieun settling quietly into the back corner seat. Sieun’s expression was unreadable, as if the party was a distant thing happening somewhere else, not here with them.

Suho’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter for a moment, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. He’d convinced Sieun to come, but that was just step one. Making sure he didn’t regret it? That was a whole different game.

He glanced sideways at Gotak, whose knee bounced anxiously. “Relax,” Suho said quietly. “We’ve got this.” Gotak gave a tiny nod but didn’t look convinced.

Juntae was talking a mile a minute about what to expect — the music, the people, the snacks, the possibility of actual dancing. Baku teased him for being “too hyped” and “obviously new to parties." Suho let it all wash over him, tuning in and out, watching Sieun through the mirror. Every so often, Sieun’s eyes would flick toward the window, then back down. Not quite closed off, but not ready to dive in either.

A sudden burst of laughter from Baku snapped Suho’s attention back. “Gotak, you look like you’re about to pass out,” Baku joked. “First party jitters?"

Gotak rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not that. It’s just... I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this.”

Suho nodded, understanding perfectly. “None of us really are,” he said. “But sometimes you just jump in anyway. That’s what tonight’s for.”

The car rolled through the neighborhood, headlights cutting through the darkness. The party was waiting. And for the first time, Suho felt that maybe, just maybe, this night could change everything.

The bass reached them before the house came into view, a low, steady thump that vibrated in the steering wheel. Lights spilled out from the windows—blue, pink, gold—like the place itself was alive. Suho parked down the street, away from the mess of cars jammed near the driveway. He cut the engine and for a moment, everything was still except for the muffled beat in the distance.

“Whoa,” Juntae breathed, pressing his face to the window. “That’s huge.”

Baku smirked. “Relax, rookie. It’s just a house, not the Grammys.”

Gotak swallowed, opened the door and stepped out slowly, as if the air itself carried expectation. His hands went straight to adjusting his collar for the twentieth time.

Suho rounded the car, slow and deliberate. He kept his pace even, even as his eyes searched for Sieun coming around the back. Sieun didn’t speak. Just walked next to him, expression calm, almost blank. But Suho noticed—the slight tightening of his jaw, the way he glanced at the lights ahead like he was walking into enemy territory.

“You sure about this?” Suho asked quietly, just for him.

“I said I’d come,” Sieun replied. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Suho allowed himself the smallest smile. “Fair enough.”

The five of them walked up the street together. Baku was already pulling out his phone, camera ready.

Inside, the music slammed into them like a wall. People everywhere—spilling out of the kitchen, packed into the living room, shouting over the bass. The floor vibrated with every beat.

Juntae’s eyes were huge. “This is insane!” Gotak gave him a look that said, please don’t embarrass us.

Suho scanned the room automatically. Faces blurred, but he was looking for exits, open space, places Sieun could breathe if he needed to. Old habit.

Baku leaned in. “You gonna stand here all night, or are you actually going to make this fun?”

“Give it a minute,” Suho said. His attention wasn’t on Baku.

As the crowd swallowed them, Juntae tugged on Gotak’s sleeve, grinning like an idiot. “Okay,” he said, “just… stay near me, alright?”

Gotak blinked, a little startled. “Uh. Yeah. Sure.”

Suho was watching Sieun, who had found the one spot on the wall where he could just be. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And Suho thought, Alright. Now what? The plan wasn’t just to get him here. It was to make him stay.

The five of them had barely settled into the hallway when the party found them. Someone grabbed Juntae’s wrist with a shout of, “You have to come dance!”

Before he could blink, he was being dragged toward the living room.

“Wait- Gotak!” Juntae yelled over his shoulder.

Gotak hesitated, eyes darting between Suho and Juntae. Baku, of course, gave him a shove. “Go, lover boy. You’ll survive.”

So Gotak followed, shoulders hunched, caught between panic and awe.

Suho exhaled and leaned back against the wall, letting the noise wash over him. He wasn’t worried about them. Not yet.

He glanced sideways. Sieun was still there, hands in his pockets, gaze fixed somewhere far past the people in front of him. He looked like someone who had walked into a room with the intention of leaving right away, then realized the exits had closed.

Suho pushed off the wall. “You holding up?”

Sieun didn’t answer immediately. “I don’t get it,” he finally said, voice steady.

“Don’t get what?”

“This,” Sieun said, tilting his head toward the crowd. “The point of being packed into a house with strangers pretending to like each other.”

Suho smiled faintly. “Yeah, it’s a mess. But sometimes it’s less about the party and more about who you come with.”

Sieun’s eyes flicked to him, sharp. “You’re saying that like you think I came here for you.”

“Didn’t say that.” Suho kept his tone even. “But you did come."

Meanwhile, in the living room: Juntae was definitely regretting his decision.

The music was louder here, and people were dancing like there was no tomorrow. Juntae had rhythm—just… not this kind of rhythm. Gotak hovered next to him, stiff as a statue, whispering, “Do we just… move? Like this?”

Juntae tried to copy someone nearby, only to stumble into Gotak, who caught him by reflex.

For a second, they just stared at each other.

Then someone shoved them, and they both jumped back like they’d been burned.

Gotak’s ears were red all the way to his hairline.

Back in the hallway, Baku sauntered over with two plastic cups, offering one to Suho. “Babysitting?” he asked.

“Something like that,” Suho said.

Baku’s eyes flicked from Suho to Sieun. His grin widened. “Careful, Suho. If you stand here too long, people are gonna think you’re on a date.”

Suho didn’t rise to the bait, though he caught the faintest twitch of annoyance from Sieun.

For a moment, the music dipped. There was a lull, like the party itself was taking a breath. Suho saw his chance. “You want some air?” he asked, turning to Sieun. “Out back’s quieter.”

Sieun hesitated, eyes narrowing as if trying to figure out the angle. Finally, he said, “Fine.”

The back porch was colder than Suho expected. The wooden boards creaked as he stepped out, holding the door for Sieun. Behind them, the party dimmed to a muffled beat, like someone had thrown a blanket over the noise. Sieun walked a few steps ahead, stopping near the railing. He folded his arms, posture straight but tense, eyes on the grass as if the party didn’t exist. Suho leaned on the railing a few feet away, close but not crowding him. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Okay. Don’t push. You just got him out here. Let him breathe. Don’t treat him like a puzzle. Just… talk.

“You always this quiet?” Suho asked finally, his tone easy.

Sieun didn’t look at him. “Only around people I don’t know.”

“I thought we were past that,” Suho said, a small grin tugging at his mouth.

“We aren’t,” Sieun replied flatly.

Suho chuckled under his breath. Blunt. Sharp as a knife. No room for pretension. Weirdly enough, he liked that.

He turned so his back leaned against the railing, studying Sieun. “You didn’t want to come tonight,” Suho said. It wasn’t a question.

“No,” Sieun said, eyes fixed on the grass.

“Then why?”

Sieun finally turned his head, meeting his gaze. His eyes were steady, unreadable. “Because my brother wouldn’t shut up about it."

“Juntae?”

“That one,” Sieun said. “He’s like a small dog- if you don’t give him what he wants, he just keeps barking.”

Suho laughed outright at that. “I can picture that.”

Sieun’s mouth twitched. Not a smile, exactly. More like he was holding one back.

Silence again, but this one felt different—lighter somehow. Suho let himself watch him for a beat, then said quietly, “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you came.”

Sieun arched a brow. “Why? So you can say you dragged me into a house full of drunk teenagers?”

“No,” Suho said, shaking his head. “Because… I think you deserve better than being stuck at home while the rest of the world spins without you.”

That made Sieun pause. He looked at Suho properly then, really looked at him. "And you think this is better?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at the party.

“Not the party,” Suho said. “The chance. To do something different. Even if it’s just once.”

The back door opened for a second—laughter, voices, the smell of spilled beer—then closed again, leaving them in their own pocket of quiet.

Sieun exhaled slowly. His hands tightened on his arms, but his voice was calm when he said, “I don’t trust parties.”

“Good,” Suho said. “Neither do I.” That earned him a sidelong glance.

“I’m not trying to change you,” Suho added. “I just… figured maybe I could talk to you without the rest of the world screaming over us."

“Talking implies I have something to say,” Sieun said.

“Maybe you do,” Suho countered, his eyes steady on Sieun’s. “Or maybe you just need someone to listen.”

For a long moment, they stood there, the cold night air prickling against their skin.

Finally, Sieun asked, almost grudgingly, “You always like this?”

“Like what?”

“Persistent.”

Suho smiled, slow and deliberate. “Only when I think it’s worth it.”

The silence that followed wasn’t hostile this time. It was… tentative. Like a truce.

From inside came a faint whoop—Juntae’s unmistakable laugh, and probably Gotak’s attempt at surviving the dance floor. Suho tilted his head toward the sound. “Looks like your brother’s doing fine.”

“For now,” Sieun muttered, but his gaze softened, just a fraction.

Suho didn’t push any further. He just stood there, content to let the night hold the rest of their words.

Suho stayed leaned against the railing, stealing quick glances at Sieun out of the corner of his eye.

He wanted to ask a dozen things. About school. About why Sieun always looked like he was holding the world at arm’s length. About how someone could be so sharp and so calm at the same time. But he knew if he asked too much too fast, he’d ruin it.

Instead, he said, “You ever notice how it’s quieter when you’re with someone who doesn’t talk just to fill the silence?”

Sieun’s brow twitched. “That’s supposed to be a compliment?”

“Yeah,” Suho said simply.

He could feel the tension radiating off Sieun, but there was something else underneath it—something like curiosity.

He decided to take a small risk.

“You know,” Suho said, “I figured you’d be different from your brother. But I didn’t expect… this.”

“This?”

“Yeah,” Suho said. “You’re quieter. Smarter. Sharper. It’s like you’ve already seen through everyone here.”

Sieun tilted his head. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not,” Suho said. “It’s… refreshing.”

“You really came out here just to talk?” Sieun asked after a while.

Suho glanced at him. “You think I dragged you out here for a bet or something?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Sieun said flatly.

“Fair,” Suho admitted. “But no. No bet. Just… wanted to get to know you.”

Sieun looked at him for a long moment, trying to see if there was a catch. For the first time tonight, there wasn’t.

From inside came another burst of noise—a cheer, a crash, Juntae’s laughter. Sieun sighed. “I should go make sure he doesn’t break anything.”

Suho smirked. “He’s fine. He’s with someone who won’t let him.”

“And you know that how?”

“Because I’ve been watching,” Suho said quietly.

Sieun froze for a second, caught off guard by the warmth in Suho’s tone.

Suho took a step back toward the door. “Come on. We can go in if you want. Or stay out here. Doesn’t matter.”

Sieun stayed put, looking away. “A few more minutes,” he said finally.

Suho smiled and leaned back on the railing. They stayed like that, the two of them silent, while inside, the chaos rolled on.

-

The party had reached that blurry, humid stage where the air inside felt like it had weight, thick with sweat and perfume and cheap alcohol. Music throbbed from a Bluetooth speaker shoved into the corner of the living room, the bass rattling the floors and making the walls seem like they were breathing.

Gotak hated these kinds of parties.

He hated the shouting, the way people shoved past him without looking, the half-drunk grins that felt like they hid knives. But he’d come for one reason: because Juntae wanted to be here. And because, if he was being honest, he wanted to see what it was like to just… be near him in this kind of chaos.

And he’d promised himself something before they even walked through the door. He wouldn’t leave Juntae alone. Not even for a second.

They’d managed so far. Gotak had been glued to his side since they came in: following Juntae as he flitted between groups, listening to music, laughing a little too loudly at things he didn’t even hear because he was watching how happy Juntae looked.

It was a relief.

For once, it wasn’t just them in the library or walking to school. This was different. And even though Gotak felt like a fish out of water, he didn’t care.

But after an hour, the heat and the noise had started to scrape away at him. His throat was dry, his shirt stuck to his back. He leaned close to Juntae, raising his voice over the music. “I’m just grabbing some water,” he said.

“You said you weren’t going to leave me,” Juntae reminded him immediately, raising an eyebrow in that half-playful, half-serious way.

“I’ll be one minute,” Gotak promised, holding up a single finger. “One. I’ll be right back. Don’t move, okay?”

Juntae smiled at that, tilting his head, a strand of hair falling into his face. “Where am I gonna go?”

Gotak smiled back, small and soft, and then forced himself to turn away. Just one bottle of water. He’d be back before anyone even noticed.

The kitchen was on the far side of the house. Gotak shoved through the crowd, muttering “sorry” and “excuse me,” until he finally made it inside. The air was a little cooler here, the counter cluttered with half-empty cups and snack bowls. He grabbed two bottles from a bucket of melting ice, condensation dripping onto his hands. He glanced at the bottles, then back toward the living room, already turning to go back.

Across the room, Seongje had already spotted Juntae.

He’d been watching him all night, waiting. And now, alone, standing with his back to the wall, looking a little out of place without that tall shadow of a bodyguard next to him—perfect.

“Well, well,” Seongje said, sliding into his space with a grin.

Juntae’s smile faded instantly. “What do you want?”

“Just wanted to say hi.” Seongje planted a hand on the wall, leaning in like he owned the spot. “Didn’t think you were the type to come to these things. Guess you finally got bored of studying?”

“I’m here with someone,” Juntae replied. His voice was clipped. He started to move, but Seongje shifted, blocking his path.

“Someone?” Seongje’s eyes glittered. “Funny. I don’t see anyone around right now.”

Juntae’s jaw clenched. He hated how people thought they could just—push. “Move.”

“Relax,” Seongje said, pretending to laugh, his tone oily. “We can talk, can’t we? No harm in talking. You look good tonight, by the way. Different.”

Gotak re-entered the living room, water bottles in hand.

His eyes scanned the crowd automatically, searching for Juntae’s head of dark hair. He was ready to smile and shove a bottle into his hand, maybe make a dumb joke about surviving the heat.

And then he saw it. Juntae, backed against the wall. Seongje, leaning in, hand planted, way too close. That look on Juntae’s face: tight, uncomfortable.

Gotak’s whole body went cold. The bottles slipped from his hands, hitting the floor with a dull thud, water spilling out. He didn’t even notice. He just moved.

One second Seongje was talking. The next, a fist came out of nowhere. Gotak’s knuckles slammed into Seongje’s jaw with a sickening crack. The crowd gasped, the music still pounding in a surreal mismatch.

Seongje stumbled back, holding his face. 

“What the hell?!”

“You don’t get to touch him,” Gotak growled, his voice low and shaking. “You don’t even look at him.”

“You crazy bastard-” Seongje lunged, swinging wildly.

Gotak blocked, rage sparking like fire through his veins. He barely felt the hit when Seongje’s fist grazed his cheek. All he could think was don’t you dare corner him again.

They crashed into the coffee table, cups flying everywhere. The crowd formed a circle instantly, half of them shouting “Fight! Fight!” like it was entertainment.

“Gotak, STOP!” Juntae’s voice cut through the chaos.

He shoved forward, grabbing Gotak’s arm, trying to pull him off. But Gotak didn’t hear him, not really. His vision tunneled until it was just Seongje’s smirk. It took Baku and two other guys to drag him off, holding him back while he still kicked and strained against them.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Juntae shouted.

Gotak blinked at him, panting, blood pounding in his ears. “He was all over you-”

“This is all your fault!” Juntae’s voice cracked, raw and angry.

“What?!”

“You promised you wouldn’t leave me alone all night!” Juntae’s eyes were blazing. “One minute, Gotak. That’s all it took. And this? This is what happens!”

“I just went to get water-”

“And look what happened!” Juntae’s hands were shaking. “You think I asked you to come here so you could pick fights? I didn’t ask you to fight for me!”

Gotak opened his mouth, words stuck in his throat. “I just- he was-”

“Don’t,” Juntae said, stepping back. His voice went colder. “Just don’t. I’m done. I’m leaving.”

And before Gotak could get another word out, Juntae turned and pushed through the crowd, gone. The music swelled again like nothing had happened. Gotak stood there, chest heaving, hands burning, staring at the empty space where Juntae had been.

Promised. And he’d broken it.

-

The cold air hits Juntae like a slap.

After the suffocating heat of the house, the night is shockingly sharp, dew clinging to the grass and the smell of spilled beer still in his clothes.

He doesn’t slow down. His heart is still hammering with embarrassment and frustration, the echo of everyone’s shouts still buzzing in his ears.

He promised. One thing. And he still couldn’t do it.

Behind him, a voice calls out: “Juntae- wait!”

He turns. It’s Suho, jogging after him, a faint sweat across his brow from fighting through the crowd.

“I’m not in the mood right now,” Juntae says, folding his arms across his chest like a shield.

Suho stops a few steps away, breathing out slow. His expression is unreadable, but there’s none of the mockery or teasing Juntae expects. Just calm, like he’s taking him seriously. “I saw what happened,” Suho says.

“Then you know why I’m leaving.”

“Gotak!” Baku has both hands on Gotak’s shoulders, forcing him back against the wall while the crowd starts to scatter now that the excitement is over. Gotak’s chest is still rising and falling like he’s run a marathon. “What the hell was that?” Baku hisses.

“He was on him,” Gotak snaps, voice raw. “Seongje had him cornered. I told him I wouldn’t let anyone mess with him like that.”

“And so you thought decking him in the middle of a crowded living room was the solution?”

Gotak’s fists are still clenched so tight that his knuckles are white. His eyes keep darting toward the door.

“I have to go after him,” he mutters, trying to push forward.

“No. Not like this.” Baku shoves him back. “You’ll make it worse. You need to calm down before you talk to him. Right now, he’s not thinking about what Seongje did- he’s thinking about you swinging first.”

Gotak squeezes his eyes shut. The shame stings worse than the split on his lip.

Suho steps closer, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, his voice low and even. “He was trying to help, you know,” Suho says.

Juntae’s laugh is bitter. “By starting a fight?”

“He panicked,” Suho says. “Not that it makes it better, but… you know how he is about you. He doesn’t know what to do with that.”

Juntae shakes his head, looking away toward the row of parked cars. “I just wanted to have fun. That’s all. I didn’t come here to be protected like I’m some helpless kid.”

“You’re not helpless,” Suho says, his tone softening. “You just… matter to him. Probably more than you realize.”

Baku tosses a towel at Gotak, who presses it to his lip without thinking. “You know,” Baku says, leaning against the counter, “I’ve seen guys get stupid over crushes before, but you might be setting a record.”

Gotak glares at him from under his hair. “It wasn’t about me. It was about him. He looked- he looked uncomfortable. Like he wanted out. And I wasn’t there.”

“And that guilt? That’s why you’re about to lose him,” Baku says bluntly. “Because instead of standing there with him, you ran off for one second, and then you came back swinging.”

Gotak stares at the floor. Every word hits like a weight.

Suho’s voice breaks the silence. “You know,” he says, almost casually, “if you want to be mad at someone, be mad at me.”

Juntae frowns. “Why?”

“Because I was the one who pushed for you to come tonight,” Suho says, shrugging slightly. “I figured if Sieun came, you’d get to come too. I didn’t think it would blow up like this.”

Juntae blinks at him. It takes a second for the pieces to click into place. “You did this… for Gotak?”

Suho smiles faintly. “You two deserve a break. Even if he has no idea how to handle one.”

Juntae looks down, his anger thinning into confusion. The night air feels less heavy now.

The music starts again, and Baku finally lets go of Gotak. “You done throwing punches, hero?”

Gotak exhales shakily, pressing the towel harder to his mouth. “Yeah. I just… I need to fix this.”

“You will,” Baku says, softer this time. “But maybe tomorrow. Let him cool off first.” Gotak nods, but his eyes still flick to the door every few seconds, wishing he could run out there and take back everything.

Suho glances at the house, then back to Juntae. “Come on. Let’s get you and Sieun out of here before someone else decides to make tonight worse.”

For a second, Juntae considers brushing him off. But something in Suho’s steady gaze makes him hesitate. “…Fine,” he mutters.

Suho falls into step beside him as they head down the quiet street, leaving the pulsing house behind.

Through the window, Gotak’s shadow lingers, watching.

-

The party’s roar fades behind them, a muffled thump of bass and laughter that no longer touches them. The night is cool and sharp, the kind of cold that seeps through your clothes and makes your bones ache.

Three shadows stretch along the empty sidewalk: Juntae in the middle, head down, shoulders drawn tight; Suho on his left, hands deep in his jacket pockets; Sieun on the other side, silent but frowning, trying to piece together what just happened.

At first, there’s nothing but the sound of their shoes on asphalt.

Then Juntae’s breath catches. It starts quiet, a hiccup he tries to swallow, but once the crack in his voice appears, it spreads fast. His pace falters.

Suho notices before Sieun does. He slows down, turning slightly. “Hey,” Suho says softly. “Stop for a second.”

“I’m fine,” Juntae insists, but his voice betrays him, shaking as tears spill down his cheeks. He wipes them away with the back of his hand, only for more to come.

Sieun finally stops too, confusion knitting his brows. “Why are you crying?” he asks flatly, but there’s a note of concern beneath it. “You weren’t in the fight.”

Juntae laughs once, bitter, through the tears. “Exactly. And I’m still the one everyone looks at like I need saving.”

They stand beneath a streetlight, its glow making the wet streaks on his face shine. “Is this about Gotak?” Sieun asks slowly.

Juntae shakes his head hard. “It’s about all of it. I thought tonight- just for once- I could just be normal. Have fun. And then he leaves for two minutes and-” His voice cracks. “And now it’s my fault again.”

Suho takes a step closer, lowering his voice. “It’s not your fault,” he says.

Juntae swallows, hugging himself. “You didn’t see the way everyone stared at me. Like I’m some little kid he has to babysit. And then he hit Seongje and- God, why does he have to ruin everything?"

Sieun crosses his arms, listening quietly. His expression hasn’t softened much, but there’s something sharper there now—thoughtfulness. “So he hit Seongje because of you?” he asks.

“I didn’t ask him to,” Juntae snaps. “I told him I just wanted him to stay next to me. That’s it. And he couldn’t even do that.”

The words hang there for a moment.

Then Suho says, “Sometimes people panic when they care. It’s not an excuse, but… it’s the truth. He was trying. In the worst way possible.”

Juntae glances at him, eyes red-rimmed. “That doesn’t make it better.”

“No,” Suho says, “but maybe it makes it easier to understand.”

They start walking again. Suho falls into step beside him, making sure his pace matches.

As the lights of the party fade into the distance, their world shrinks to three figures under the streetlamps:

one silently falling apart,

one keeping pace with steady patience,

and one trying, for once, not to analyze but just to walk with them.

-

By the time they reach the familiar street, the party is just a memory. The night feels heavier here. Quiet. The glow from the windows of their house spills faintly across the yard, a thin line of yellow against the dark.

Juntae’s been silent the last ten minutes of the walk. He’s worn out from crying, worn out from explaining. His cheeks are blotchy, eyes puffy.

Suho slows as they step up to the gate. “You good to get inside?” he asks, his voice calm but low, like he knows pushing will just make it worse.

Juntae nods without looking up. “Yeah.”

Sieun opens the gate first, letting it creak.

He glances back at his younger brother, still frowning, like he’s trying to decode the whole thing. He doesn’t speak though—not here, not now. He knows this isn’t the time.

Inside the house, the warmth hits them all at once. The faint hum of the refrigerator, the smell of clean laundry—normal things, grounding things.

Juntae toes off his shoes and goes straight past the living room without a word. His bedroom door closes a little too fast, the sound sharp in the quiet hall.

Gotak: 

Are you home safe?

I’m sorry, Jun. I didn’t mean for it to get that bad.

Juntae shouldn’t answer. He promised himself he wouldn’t. But his thumb moves before his brain catches up.

Juntae:

I’m home.

A few seconds later, Gotak replies, fast.

Gotak:

Good. I was worried.

Can we talk?

Juntae hesitates. Then:

Juntae: 

You didn’t look worried when you walked away.

Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then come back again.

Gotak:

I swear I just went to grab water.

I didn’t think Seongje would

I wasn’t leaving you.

Juntae exhales sharply, fingers flying over the screen.

Juntae: 

That’s the point.

You never think.

You knew I didn’t want to be left alone there.

Gotak:

I thought 2 minutes would be fine. I misread it. I messed up.

Juntae: 

You didn’t just mess up. You turned it into a fight.

In front of everyone.

Do you know how humiliating that was?

There’s a pause this time. A long one.

Gotak:

I know.

I just

When I saw him crowding you like that, I lost it. I couldn’t just watch.

Juntae: 

You promised me.

“I won’t leave your side all night.”

That’s what you said.

Gotak: 

And I meant it. I just… I thought it was safe.

I didn’t think he’d try anything while I was gone.

Juntae presses the heel of his palm to his eyes. His throat feels tight again, but this time there’s anger behind it.

Juntae:

That’s not the point, Hyuntak.

I don’t need a hero.

I just wanted my friend.

And you couldn’t even do that for me.

Another pause. The typing bubble flickers on, off, on.

Gotak: 

You are my friend. You’re the one person I’d do anything for.

I know I made it worse. But I swear I was only trying to help.

Juntae: 

Then stop “helping” like that.

Every time you do, it just makes everything worse.

There’s a long gap. Almost a minute. Then:

Gotak:

So… are we okay?

Juntae stares at the screen for a long time. His chest aches. He types slowly.

Juntae: 

Not tonight.

I just… I need time.

Gotak: 

Okay.

I’ll wait.

Juntae sets the phone down, face-down on the blanket. The screen goes black. Outside, the night goes on.

But there’s no escaping the noise in his head. It’s not really about the fight.Not just that, anyway. It’s about the way the room had felt when he was standing there alone—like the floor had been pulled out from under him.

The one person he’d trusted to stay by his side had walked away without looking back. And Seongje had seen it. Seongje, who would twist anything into a chance to make someone else feel small.

He presses the pillow over his face, trying to block out the memory of that grin.

That stupid, smug grin, like he’d known Gotak wouldn’t be there. And maybe that’s what really hurts— because all night, from the moment Gotak asked him to go, he’d been telling himself:

It’s fine. He’s there. He’ll make sure nothing happens.

For the first time, he’d wanted to believe that someone else could handle things. That he didn’t have to.

And then two minutes later, he’d been standing alone. Like always.

He rolls onto his side, curling up. His throat is raw from crying, but it’s the dsappointment that burns.

Because no matter how many times Gotak apologizes, he knows this feeling now:

You can’t un-know how it feels to realize someone isn’t where you thought they’d be.

And the worst part? He still doesn’t want to hate him for it.

-

Sieun’s phone buzzes on his desk as he’s halfway through his homework.

An unknown number.

Unknown: 

Hey.

It’s Suho.

He stares at it for a long moment, frowning. Then he types back.

Sieun: 

How did you even get my number?

The typing bubble appears quickly.

Suho: 

Juntae.

(Don’t be mad at him. I kind of cornered him.)

Sieun snorts softly, despite himself.

Sieun: 

That’s weird.

Why are you texting me?

Suho: 

Just wanted to check in.

You all good?

Sieun hesitates. His eyes flick briefly to the wall that separates his room from Juntae’s.

He can still hear faint movement on the other side—quiet, which is unusual. He sighs, types slowly:

Sieun: 

I’m fine.

It’s not me you should be asking about.

Suho:

I know.

But I figured maybe you’d give me a more honest answer than he would right now.

Sieun: 

You figured right.

Suho: 

Is it bad?

Like… between him and Gotak?

Sieun bites the inside of his cheek. His fingers hover over the keyboard.

Sieun: 

It’s bad.

He hasn’t said two words since we got home.

Suho: 

Yeah. I saw his face leaving.

And Gotak’s.

Looked like someone had cut the floor out from both of them.

There’s a long pause this time, both on the screen and in Sieun’s room. Finally:

Suho: 

I just…

I’ve been thinking about it all night.

And I can’t shake the feeling that Gotak’s kicking himself worse than anyone else ever could.

Sieun:

That’s probably true.

But it doesn’t make it better.

Sometimes “sorry” isn’t enough.

Suho: 

Yeah.

(…you’re a lot more blunt over text.)

Sieun:

You asked.

So? Why do you care?

Suho: 

Because I like seeing people get it right.

And I think Gotak wants to get it right with your brother.

He just… really needs to learn how.

Sieun: 

And you?

You planning to get anything right?

Suho:

That’s the idea.

One step at a time.

The corner of Sieun’s mouth lifts just a little, even as he locks his phone. He’s not sure if he’s more annoyed or curious about what “one step at a time” is supposed to mean.

-

The classroom buzzes with monday morning chatter, chairs scraping, notebooks thudding against desks.

Sunlight cuts in through the tall windows, throwing strips of gold across the floor, but it does nothing to make Gotak feel any warmer. He spots Juntae as soon as he steps inside. Same seat. Perfect posture. Uniform neat, like nothing had happened over the weekend.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think friday night hadn’t ended with him storming out of a house with wet eyes and shaking shoulders.

Gotak swallows hard, walking up the aisle between desks. The noise around him seems to fade with every step.

“Hey,” he says, stopping beside Juntae’s desk. No response.

“Juntae,” he tries again, softer this time, leaning down a little so no one else will hear. “I just… I need to talk to you.”

Juntae doesn’t even glance at him. His eyes stay fixed on his textbook, his pen moving deliberately, like Gotak isn’t there.

Gotak exhales slowly through his nose, forcing himself not to give up. “I messed up,” he says quietly. “I know I did. I wasn’t- I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to make sure you were okay after friday.”

The only sound from Juntae is the faint scratch of his pen.

“Please, just-” Gotak crouches slightly so they’re eye-level. “Can you look at me for two seconds?”

Finally, Juntae moves. Not to look at him— but to slowly turn the page of his notebook, as if the conversation isn’t even worth a blink.

The rejection stings worse than the punch he’d thrown at Seongje.

Gotak straightens up, awkward and out of place while the rest of the class goes on talking around him. He doesn’t want to make a scene. He knows that would only make things worse. So, in a low voice, he adds one last thing: “I know I promised. And I broke it. But… I’ll fix it. Somehow. Even if you don’t believe me right now.”

No answer. Not even a flicker. Gotak stands there for a beat too long, the weight of the silence pressing against his chest, before he slowly backs away to his own seat.

For the rest of the lesson, he keeps glancing over. And every time, Juntae’s eyes are anywhere but him.

-

The bell rings, loud and merciful, but for Gotak it sounds like a countdown.

Chairs scrape back. Students surge for the door in a rush of chatter and scuffling sneakers. Juntae moves quickly, packing his bag with clean, efficient movements. His face is unreadable, like it’s carved from glass. Gotak stands up so fast his chair tips a little. He grabs his notebook, throws it in his bag, and maneuvers between the desks just as Juntae’s shoulder passes through the doorframe.

“Wait- Juntae, wait,” Gotak says, reaching out but not touching, because he’s not sure if he has that right anymore. Juntae keeps walking.

They spill into the hall, where the crush of bodies thins slightly. “Just- stop for one second, please.” Gotak hurries around in front of him, walking backward to keep pace.

Juntae stops.

Not because of Gotak’s words, but because his gaze has dropped to the floor as if he’s waiting for the crowd to pass.

His silence is louder than any insult could be.

Gotak clears his throat, searching for words. “I know I said I wouldn’t leave you alone at that party. I swear, I just went for water. Two minutes. And I came back and-"

He stops himself, fingers clenching at his sides. “I should’ve known better.”

Still nothing.

“Seeing Seongje standing there, looking at you like that… I couldn’t just let it go. I lost it. And then I lost you.”

For a moment, Gotak sees the faintest flicker in Juntae’s expression—a muscle tightening in his jaw. But he doesn’t look up.

“I know an apology doesn’t change what happened,” Gotak says, softer now. “I just don’t want you to think I don’t care. Because I do. More than I’ve ever cared about anything.”

Juntae exhales through his nose, slow and heavy. Finally, his eyes lift—sharp and tired, but steady. “You promised,” he says. His voice is low, like it costs him something just to say that much. Then he steps around Gotak and walks away without another word.

Gotak watches him go, the crowd swallowing him up as the hallway empties. He stands there long after the bell for the next class, feeling like he’s just been punched again—only this time, there’s no bruise anyone else can see.

-

He doesn’t remember how he makes it out of the crowded hallway. One second, he’s standing there, watching the back of Juntae’s uniform disappear into the throng of students. The next, he’s shoving a door open and finding himself in the empty stairwell between floors.

The sudden quiet slams into him. No chatter. No footsteps. Just the faint hum of the building.

He leans back against the cool wall and lets his bag drop to the floor. His hands are shaking.

He presses the heels of his palms against his eyes, as if he can scrub the image of Juntae’s expression out of his head.

That look— not angry. Not even hurt. Just… done. Like Gotak had been erased.

“I promised,” he mutters to himself, the words cracking. “I promised I wouldn’t leave him, and I did. And now he hates me for it.”

He slides down the wall, landing hard on the step. His knees come up and he curls forward, forehead against them.

The anger he felt on friday night has long since burned away. What’s left now is a hollow ache, a tight knot in his chest that won’t let him breathe properly.

He thought he was doing the right thing, that stepping away for a second wouldn’t matter, that he’d be back before anything bad could happen. He hadn’t realized how fast everything could spiral.

He thinks about the way Seongje had been smiling at Juntae, that slick fake confidence, like he was entitled to his attention. He thinks about throwing the punch, about how good it felt for a split second— and how everything after that went so wrong.

“Why do I always screw it up?” His voice sounds small in the empty stairwell.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, the class periods ticking by above him.

At some point, he takes out his phone, stares at Juntae’s contact. His thumb hovers over the keyboard. But what could he possibly text that he hasn’t already said face to face?

In the end, he just locks the phone again, shoving it back into his pocket.

There’s no shortcut to fixing this. And the thought terrifies him—because what if Juntae doesn’t give him another chance to try?

The bell rings again, muffled by the walls.

Gotak stands up slowly, grabs his bag, and drags himself back into the hallway. For the first time in a long time, he feels like there’s nowhere in this school where he belongs.

-

Juntae doesn’t stop walking, not even when he hears Gotak’s voice crack on that last apology behind him. 

The noise of the hallway swallows everything, but his heartbeat pounds louder than any of it. He pushes out into the courtyard between buildings, where the late-morning sun feels too bright. He breathes in once, deep, and forces himself to keep moving.

It’s not that he hates Gotak.

That’s the problem. He doesn’t.

Even now, even after friday night—the panic, the fight, the embarrassment—his chest aches because he still wants to turn around and forgive him. But every time he closes his eyes, he sees Seongje cornering him, feels the tension in the room, remembers how alone he felt in that moment.

Gotak had promised he wouldn’t leave.

It had been the only reason Juntae even agreed to go.

And in those few minutes when he wasn’t there, everything came crashing down.

He stops by the vending machines and just stands there, staring at the buttons like they hold some kind of answer. He presses one without thinking. The can clatters down, loud in the quiet.

He doesn’t want to shut Gotak out forever.

But he needs time. Space. Something. Because if he forgives him too easily, he’s afraid Gotak won’t understand how much it hurt.

-

The evening air is cool, faintly damp from a drizzle earlier, and the school’s front steps are nearly empty.

Suho finds Sieun exactly where he expected: sitting on the top step, earbuds in, notebook balanced on his knees.

He hesitates for a second before climbing up. Sieun doesn’t look up until Suho’s shadow crosses over his page. “Need something?” Sieun asks, flat.

Suho sits beside him without an invitation. “Just some quiet company.”

“That implies you’re quiet,” Sieun says, but he doesn’t move away.

For a while, the only sound is the faint beat of music leaking from Sieun’s earbuds.

Suho glances sideways at him, watching the way the wind lifts a few strands of hair off his forehead.

He clears his throat. “You noticed Gotak and Juntae today?”

“I notice everything,” Sieun says, pen tapping on the page. “Especially when people act like ghosts.”

Suho leans back on his hands. “They’re… figuring things out.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Sieun says. “Gotak looked like he was about to pass out all day.”

“Yeah,” Suho admits. “He’s beating himself up for friday.”

Sieun finally puts his pen down and glances at him. “You don’t usually talk about other people’s drama.”

Suho shrugs. “They’re my friends. And-” he hesitates, “I wanted to ask… if maybe you could make it a little easier on Juntae. He listens to you.”

Sieun tilts his head. “And why would I do that for you?”

Suho smiles. “Not for me. For him.”

The response earns him a long stare. Suho holds it, unbothered.

The corners of Sieun’s mouth twitch before he looks away again, hiding it behind picking up his pen.

“You’re annoyingly earnest, you know that?” Sieun says.

“And yet here I am,” Suho says. “Sitting next to you instead of anywhere else.”

“Poor decision-making skills.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I like the view.”

That earns him a side-eye, sharp enough to cut.

But Sieun doesn’t tell him to leave. For a moment, they just sit there. 

The sun dips low enough that the streetlights flicker on, and Suho stretches, shoulders brushing Sieun’s. “Stop leaning so close,” Sieun says without moving.

“You’d miss me if I didn’t,” Suho replies, grin crooked.

Eventually, Sieun snaps his notebook shut. “You really think this is going to fix them?”

“I think it’ll help,” Suho says. “And if it doesn’t… I’ll try something else.”

Sieun stands, brushing off his pants. “Good luck, then.”

As he starts down the steps, Suho calls after him: “See you tomorrow, Sieun.”

There’s a small pause before Sieun lifts a hand in acknowledgment without turning around.

-

Sieun is lying in bed, light off, the room quiet except for the faint hum of traffic outside. He’s halfway through rereading his notes when his phone buzzes.

Suho:

Just wanted to say thanks for listening earlier. About Gotak and Juntae.

Sieun :

I didn’t promise anything.

Suho:

You didn’t have to.

You stayed. That’s something.

Sieun stares at the words for a long moment before typing back:

Sieun:

Why do you care so much?

Suho:

About them? Or about you?

The typing dots stop. Then restart. Then stop again.

Suho:

Both, I guess.

For some reason, Sieun laughs quietly into his pillow.

Sieun:

You’re insufferable.

Suho:

That’s fair.

A picture comes through: Suho’s messy desk, papers everywhere, a dumb-looking mug in the middle that says World’s Okayest Person.

Suho:

Studying. Thought you’d approve.

Sieun:

That desk is a war crime.

Suho:

Harsh.

Sieun:

Accurate.

Suho:

You gonna yell at me in person tomorrow too? Or do I get a break?

Sieun:

Depends on how early you talk to me.

Suho:

Then I’ll wait.

After a long pause, Sieun finally puts his phone down, but doesn’t delete the number.

And Suho, across town, grins at the screen for way too long.

-

It starts with a text after school:

Suho:

Hey. You walking home today?

Sieun:

…Yes?

Suho:

Good. Don’t pretend you didn’t see me waiting at the gates.

Sieun looks up from his phone and—of course—Suho is leaning against the gate just like he said, grin ready.

When Sieun walks past, Suho casually falls into step beside him. Neither says anything for a while. The streets are quieter than usual, afternoon sun filtering through the trees.

Finally, Suho breaks the silence.

“You know, you’re really hard to read,” he says.

“That’s intentional.”

“I figured,” Suho says with a little laugh. “But I’m stubborn.” They turn a corner. Suho’s voice drops slightly. “You mad about the party?”

Sieun frowns. “I’m not the one you should be asking that.”

“Yeah, I know. But… I didn’t like seeing you there, looking like you’d rather vanish. I thought maybe I could fix that. Next time.”

“There’s not going to be a next time.”

“We’ll see,” Suho says easily, but there’s something sincere under it.

A car passes; they walk in the quiet again.

Then Suho says, “I texted you last night, by the way. You left me on read.”

Sieun glances sideways at him. “Did you expect me to answer?”

“Kind of? You answer now.”

“Maybe I’m making a mistake.”

They stop at the crosswalk. Suho studies him carefully. “You think I’m just messing around with you,” he says, no grin this time.

“I think you talk too much,” Sieun replies.

“Yeah,” Suho admits. “But it’s because I actually want you to hear me.”

The light changes. They cross, and Sieun’s lips twitch—just barely, but Suho catches it.

He doesn’t push any further. Instead, he lets the silence sit, side by side, step by step.

And when they reach Sieun’s street, Suho says quietly: “Thanks for not ignoring me today.”

Sieun exhales, turning toward his house. “Don’t make it a habit.”

Suho waits until he’s out of sight before pulling out his phone.

Suho:

Walk again tomorrow?

The typing dots appear for a long moment.

Sieun:

Maybe.

-

The sky has already turned indigo by the time Sieun finishes dinner. Their house is unusually quiet—Juntae shut himself in his room after barely touching his food, and their dad retreated to his office. Sieun’s phone buzzes where it sits on the desk.

Incoming call: Suho.

He stares at it for a moment, considering letting it ring out, but curiosity (or annoyance) wins. He answers.

“You picked up. Thought you’d ghost me.”

“I almost did,” Sieun says, leaning back in his chair. “What do you want?”

“Nothing serious. Just making sure you got home okay.”

“You literally walked with me all the way here,” Sieun says dryly.

“Yeah, but I didn’t get to hear your voice after,” Suho says lightly, a grin audible in the words.

“…Are you always like this?”

“Like what?”

“Annoying.”

“I like to think of it as persistent,” Suho replies. “Besides, you don’t hang up.”

Sieun rubs his temple. “I didn’t think you were the type to call. I figured you’d just spam me with texts.”

“And miss out on hearing that you sound a little less grumpy when you’re tired? Not a chance.”

There’s a pause. Through the quiet of the line, Sieun can hear faint city noise on Suho’s end, like he’s walking somewhere.

Suho’s voice softens. “Today wasn’t terrible, right? Walking home?”

“…It was tolerable,” Sieun concedes.

“I’ll take that as a win. Maybe we should make it a regular thing.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“You keep saying that, but I think you secretly like it.”

Sieun is about to reply when a sudden knock echoes from the hallway. A low, hesitant knock—followed by a muffled voice.

“Uh… Juntae? You home?” Sieun freezes. He knows that voice.

"What was that?” Suho asks.

“Nothing,” Sieun says, standing. “Stay on the line.”

Gotak stands awkwardly at the front door, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His hands are stuffed deep into his jacket pockets, and he looks like he hasn’t slept properly since the party.

When the door finally opens, it’s Sieun standing there, phone pressed to his ear, gaze sharp as a knife.

Gotak scratches the back of his neck. “Uh… hi. Is Juntae here?”

Sieun doesn’t answer right away. “Why?”

“I… I just need to talk to him. Please.”

From the phone pressed against Sieun’s ear, Suho’s voice comes faintly: “Who is it?”

“None of your business,” Sieun mutters into the phone before lowering it. “Wait here,” he says to Gotak, then turns and heads up the stairs. “Suho, I have to go.”

“That sounded like someone came for Juntae,” Suho says, tone suddenly alert.

“It’s not your problem.”

“Okay, okay,” Suho says easily, “Don’t hang up mad at me. At least admit I made you smile once today.”

Sieun huffs out something dangerously close to a laugh despite himself. “…You’re ridiculous.”

“I’ll take that. Call me later if you feel like it.”

He hangs up and slips the phone into his pocket just as he knocks on his brother’s door.

Juntae is sprawled on the bed with a comic book he hasn’t turned a page of in twenty minutes. He looks up nervously when Sieun opens the door.

“There’s someone here to see you,” Sieun says.

Juntae blinks. “Who?''

“Go Hyuntak.”

The comic drops to the floor. Juntae sits up instantly, his heart pounding. “What? Why?”

“Maybe because he wants to fix whatever mess you two made,” Sieun says dryly. “Are you going down or not?”

Juntae hesitates—really hesitates—then pulls on a hoodie and follows Sieun down the stairs.

Gotak looks up the moment he sees him, relief flashing across his face, but it’s guarded by nerves. "Hey,” he says quietly.

Juntae crosses his arms. “You said you wouldn’t leave me. Then you did. And now you show up here?”

“I know,” Gotak says quickly. “I screwed up. I just… I needed to say that to your face.”

Juntae glares. “Say it then.”

“I’m sorry. I got scared and stupid and- seeing Seongje talking to you- I just lost it. I wasn’t thinking about you, and I should have been.”

Sieun, leaning against the wall, watches the exchange silently. He doesn’t intervene, but his gaze is sharp, weighing every word.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” Juntae says finally, voice tight. “But I… I guess I appreciate you coming here.”

Gotak’s shoulders slump, but there’s something like hope in his eyes. “That’s all I wanted for now. To say sorry. I’ll… I’ll wait. However long it takes.”

The silence stretches. Then Juntae mutters, “You should go before dad sees you.”

Gotak nods and heads for the door. Just before leaving, he glances back at Juntae. “Thanks for listening.”

The house is quiet again after the front door clicks shut.

Juntae retreats upstairs without a word, and Sieun stands in the hallway for a moment, looking at the door like it still holds the echo of Gotak’s voice.

Then, in the stillness, his phone buzzes again.

Incoming call: Suho.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "…You have terrible timing,” he mutters, but he answers anyway.

“Did you just hang up on me so you could listen in?” Suho’s voice comes bright and teasing, almost smug.

“No,” Sieun says flatly, heading for his room. “I hung up because I told you I had something to deal with.”

“And that something sounded a lot like Go Hyuntak,” Suho says. “Is that a regular thing at your place? People showing up to pour their hearts out on your doorstep?”

“Why are you so interested?”

“Because I could hear every single word of your heavy sigh through the phone,” Suho replies. “Sounded like you were dying to comment.”

Sieun sits on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor. “If you’re calling to make fun of my brother, I’m hanging up again.”

“I’m not,” Suho says, softer now. “I’m just… curious. You looked pretty protective earlier. Didn’t think anyone could get you to open the door for them.”

“I didn’t open it for him,” Sieun says. “I opened it because I didn’t want him standing there all night.”

“Cold, but fair,” Suho says with a low laugh.

There’s a pause. Sieun leans back on one arm, phone to his ear. “You sound way too entertained by this.”

“Maybe,” Suho says. “Or maybe I just like hearing you talk, even when you’re annoyed at me.”

Sieun rolls his eyes, even though no one can see. “Do you ever stop?”

“Nope. If I stopped, you’d have to admit you don’t actually hate talking to me.”

“…You’re exhausting.”

“And yet,” Suho says, warm amusement threading through his voice, “you’re still on the line.”

Chapter Text

Gotak’s room is a mess.

There are math textbooks still open on the desk, half a bag of chips overturned on the floor, and his jacket lying in a heap near the bed. Normally, none of it bothers him. Tonight, it feels like the walls themselves are pressing in.

He’s been pacing in the same four steps since he got home from the party on friday.

The fight. Juntae’s tearful face.

That single sentence replaying in his skull like a broken record:

“You promised you wouldn’t leave me.”

He stops, gripping his hair.

I’m such an idiot. Who leaves in the middle of their first party just because they’re thirsty? And then- yeah-Seongje just had to be there, sniffing around like a mosquito. And me? My dumb self comes back swinging like that’s gonna fix everything.

Now Juntae thinks it’s all my fault. And it is my fault. I ruined everything. He’s never gonna talk to me again. He’ll sit on the other side of class with his pretty, smug, perfect hair and he won’t even look at me- 

He throws himself back onto his bed and groans loudly into a pillow, kicking his legs like a frustrated kid.

Minutes pass. The house is quiet. His phone screen keeps lighting up with notifications, but none of them are from Juntae. That hurts more than he expected.

He flips over, staring at the ceiling, feeling like the lamest, most useless crush in the world.

I’ve gotta do something. Something big. Something that proves I’m not giving up. Texting “sorry” is weak. Waiting till monday is weak. I need to show him that I mean it. That I’d do literally anything to make him forgive me.

He sits up suddenly, swinging his legs off the bed, determination starting to replace the pit of guilt in his stomach.

Then comes the question: What?

What could possibly make Juntae listen?

Knocking on the front door right now?

His dad would kill him. No, worse—his dad would glare at him, and Gotak isn’t sure he’d survive that. He shakes his head. No door. Too easy to block.

And then… the idea hits him. The stupidest idea. The most movie-like, reckless idea.

I’ll go to his window. That’s… romantic, right? Or at least, memorable. He can’t ignore me if I’m literally hanging off the side of his house.

The thought makes his heart race. He can already picture himself sneaking across the lawn, trying to figure out which window is his. Maybe tap on the glass until Juntae looks up, all surprised. And then he’ll say something dumb like, “Can we talk?”

A small smile cracks across his face for the first time all night.

Of course, there’s the small problem of actually getting there. And climbing. And maybe dying if he slips.

But compared to the silence he got from Juntae tonight? Worth it.

He jumps up from the bed and starts pacing again, only this time it’s not in frustration—it’s strategy. He grabs a hoodie, sneakers, pulls them on quickly, and mutters to himself:

If I don’t do this, I’ll regret it. He has to know I didn’t just walk away. He has to know I like him. And if I fall out of a tree? Fine. At least he’ll know I tried.

By the time he slips out of his house, the streets are mostly empty, but his heart is pounding like he’s about to run a marathon. As he heads toward Juntae’s neighborhood, he whispers under his breath, almost like a chant:

Window, not door. Window, not door. Don’t mess this up, Go Hyuntak.

The streets are mostly empty at this hour, except for the far-off sound of a barking dog and the hum of a distant car. He’s already out of breath from jogging—nerves and adrenaline burning more energy than the actual run—but when he turns onto the narrow street that leads to Juntae’s house, he slows.

It’s quiet here. Too quiet. Every step sounds like thunder in his ears.

Okay. You’re here. Now what?

He crouches behind a low hedge across from the house, scanning the second floor. Most of the windows are dark. One, though—a faint glow spills out from between pale curtains. The glass is cracked open just a little, and if he squints, he can see a figure sitting on a bed, hunched over with headphones in.

That’s him. It has to be him.

The window feels a million miles away, even though it’s just one careful climb.

He crosses the lawn quickly, sticking close to the side of the house. The grass is damp, soaking through his sneakers. His hands are clammy as he grips the wooden lattice running up the wall. It looks frail, and for a moment he wonders if this was a horrible mistake.

But he’s come this far.

He takes a deep breath, places one foot on the lowest rung, and starts to climb.

Every creak of the wood sounds like a gunshot. His arms are shaking by the time he’s only halfway up. He keeps his body pressed as close to the wall as possible, his chest scraping against the rough siding.

Don’t look down. Don’t think about falling. Don’t think about breaking both your legs and ending up in a hospital and having to explain that you were climbing to your crush’s bedroom window like an idiot—

Another creak. He freezes, heart hammering. No lights switch on. He keeps going.

By the time he hauls himself up to the second-floor ledge, his hoodie is sticking to his back with sweat. His fingers ache from gripping the wood so hard.

He edges sideways, balancing on the narrow strip of ledge until he’s level with the glowing window. Through the gap in the curtains, he can see him clearly now: Juntae, legs crossed on the bed, staring blankly at something on his phone, headphones in. His hair is falling into his eyes. He looks small, folded in on himself.

Gotak hesitates. He could still climb down. But if he doesn’t do this now, he might lose the nerve forever.

He lifts one shaking hand and knocks gently on the glass. Tap, tap, tap.

Inside, Juntae blinks, confused. He pulls one earbud out, frowning. Slowly, he turns his head toward the sound.

For a moment, he doesn’t move. His face cycles through confusion, shock, and then something close to alarm. He lurches off the bed, eyes wide, and strides to the window.

When he gets close enough to see Gotak clinging to the ledge, he yanks the window open with a hissed whisper: “Are you out of your mind?!”

“Hi,” Gotak pants, voice trembling as he grips the sill for dear life. His grin is crooked, uncertain, but earnest.

“Hi?!” Juntae looks around wildly, like he expects their dad to appear at any second. “Do you want to die? What are you even doing here?”

“I…needed to talk to you,” Gotak says, still catching his breath. “And I couldn’t just knock on your front door.”

“So you decided to scale the house?” Juntae hisses, leaning halfway out the window to grab his arm before he slips. “Get inside before someone sees you.”

Juntae steps back, tugging him forward. Gotak collapses into a crouch on the carpet, panting, sweat sticking his hoodie to his back. For a second, neither of them says anything—the room is quiet except for Gotak’s ragged breathing and the low hum of music still coming from Juntae’s phone.

Juntae shuts the window fast, whirls around, and just stares. “Are you, seriously, insane?” Juntae finally says, his voice low, sharp, the way Sieun talks when he’s on the edge of snapping. “Do you even know how stupid that was?”

“I know,” Gotak says quickly, raising his hands like he’s surrendering. “I know it was dumb, okay? But I had to.”

“You had to?” Juntae folds his arms, trying to hide the way his hands are shaking. “You could’ve rung the doorbell like a normal person. You could’ve- texted. Anything. Instead, you climb up to my window? At night? What if you fell?”

“I wasn’t going to fall.” Gotak straightens a little, though his knees are still wobbly. “I had a good grip.”

Juntae stares at him like he’s lost his mind. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry,” Gotak says, and this time there’s no humor. His voice drops, almost a whisper. “I just… couldn’t wait. You’ve been ignoring me, and I didn’t know how else to get you to hear me out.”

The words hang there.

Juntae’s lips press into a thin line. His first instinct is to say something cutting, to tell him to leave. But there’s something in Gotak’s face—sheer exhaustion and stubborn determination—that makes him hesitate.

“You think this is going to fix what happened?” Juntae says finally. “You think breaking into my room is some grand apology?”

Gotak swallows. “No. I just… needed a chance. Just a chance to explain. I’ve been going crazy thinking about how I messed everything up.”

He takes a small step forward, testing the distance. “Juntae, I promised I’d stick with you that night. And I didn’t. I messed up. And you got hurt because of me. I hate that I did that. I hate that you looked at me like, like I was just like all the other people who don’t care.”

Juntae flinches. His arms tighten across his chest.

“You have no idea how that felt,” Gotak continues, voice shaking now. “You looked at me like you couldn’t trust me. And maybe you can’t, but I swear I didn’t mean for that to happen. I just-” he exhales sharply, rubbing the back of his neck, “-I got up to get water. I was gone for two minutes and everything fell apart.”

“You promised,” Juntae says quietly. His voice is calm, but it lands like a blow. “You promised, Hyuntak. You were the only reason I said yes to even going in the first place.”

“I know,” Gotak whispers. “And I broke that. And you’re right to be mad.”

“Mad?” Juntae lets out a small, humorless laugh. “I’m not mad. I just… I thought you were different. I trusted you.”

There’s a long pause.

Gotak stares at the floor, ashamed. Finally, he looks up, eyes clear, desperate. “I am different,” he says. “I want to be. That’s why I’m here, risking looking like the biggest idiot alive, because I need you to know that I’m not giving up. Not on this. Not on you.”

Juntae’s heart stutters at that, but he forces himself to keep his expression neutral.

“You think sneaking into my house makes up for it?”

“No,” Gotak says without hesitation. “It doesn’t make up for anything. I just… I couldn’t let it end like that. Please, yell at me, throw me out, whatever, but don’t ignore me. I’ll take anything except you acting like I don’t exist.”

For a moment, the only sound is the faint buzz of traffic outside.

Finally, Juntae sighs, dropping onto his bed. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. "You’re so stupid,” he mutters.

“Yeah,” Gotak says, a faint, sheepish smile breaking through. “I’ve been told.”

“That’s not a compliment.”

“I didn’t think it was.”

When Juntae finally looks up, his voice is softer, though still guarded. “You can’t just fix this in one night, you know.”

“I know,” Gotak says, relief flickering in his eyes at the fact that Juntae isn’t throwing him out. “But can I start tonight?”

Juntae hesitates, then gestures vaguely at the floor. “Fine. Sit down.”

Gotak drops to sit cross-legged on the carpet, breathing out slowly. For the first time since the party, the air between them feels a little less like a storm.

Juntae leans back on his hands, staring at him. “If my dad finds you here, we’re both dead.”

“Worth it,” Gotak says instantly. Then, quieter: “For you? Always.”

Juntae rolls his eyes, but there’s a faint blush creeping up his neck.

The room feels smaller once they both stop talking. The only light is from the desk lamp, a soft circle spilling onto the floor. Gotak sits cross-legged, fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie. Juntae sits on the edge of his bed, knees drawn up, watching him like he’s not sure what to do next.

For a while, neither speaks.

Finally, Gotak exhales. “I thought about this a thousand times on the way here,” he says quietly. “What to say. What you’d say back. And now that I’m here, it’s like everything I practiced fell out of my head.”

Juntae shifts slightly, but doesn’t interrupt.

“I know sorry doesn’t fix it,” Gotak goes on. “But I don’t know how else to tell you I wish I could go back and redo that night. If I could’ve stayed right there next to you instead of leaving, I would’ve. I swear.”

Juntae tilts his head. “Then why did you leave?”

“Because I wasn’t thinking,” Gotak says instantly, frustrated with himself. “I thought you were fine for a second. And I just- my throat was dry. It was so stupid. It wasn’t worth it. And by the time I came back…” He clenches his fists on his knees. “You know what happened.”

“I do,” Juntae says, and his voice is low, tight. “I also know I told you I didn’t want to go.”

“I know,” Gotak says, and his shoulders sag. “And you went because I asked. Because you trusted me. And I broke that. I hate that I did.”

The admission lands heavily. Juntae studies him, searching for some sign he’s lying, but all he sees is exhaustion. The clock ticks loudly in the quiet.

Gotak glances up at him. 

“You know what the worst part was? Not the fight. Not even you leaving without looking back. It was knowing that when I called your name, you didn’t turn around.” Juntae looks down at his hands, something unreadable flickering in his expression. “You don’t know how hard it is for me to even let someone try,” he says. “I don’t do this. Parties. People. Letting someone in. And you-" He stops himself, shakes his head. “You have no idea what it felt like to think I made a mistake.”

Gotak nods slowly. “I get that now.”

They sit in silence again. The tension hasn’t gone, but it’s thinner now, a thread instead of a wall.

Gotak shifts onto his knees, resting his arms on the bedframe. “I know I don’t deserve for you to forgive me tonight. I’m not asking for that. I’m just asking for a chance to show you that I can do better.”

“And if I say no?” Juntae asks.

“Then I’ll keep showing up anyway,” Gotak says, simple, matter-of-fact. “Not through the window next time. Probably.”

“Probably?” Juntae raises an eyebrow despite himself.

“I said probably, not definitely,” Gotak says with a grin that’s more nervous than smug.

It pulls a small, reluctant huff of laughter out of Juntae.

He notices Gotak’s face change at the sound, softening just a fraction, and quickly looks away.

“You should leave before my dad finds you,” Juntae says after a long pause.

“Yeah,” Gotak says, but he doesn’t move right away. He stands slowly, hesitates by the window. “So… are we… okay?”

Juntae doesn’t look at him. “We’re… not not okay.”

Gotak blinks. “That’s… progress?”

“It’s not forgiveness,” Juntae clarifies. “But you can stop looking like a kicked puppy.”

Footsteps.

Down the hall. Slow but heavy.

Both freeze.

Juntae’s eyes snap to the door. “Shit. That’s my dad.”

Gotak’s heart lurches. “What?!”

“He’ll kill you if he sees you here,” Juntae hisses. “Hide!”

“Hide where?!” Gotak whispers, panic rising. The room is small, neat, and there’s no closet big enough for him. The footsteps are closer now. A hand on the doorknob.

“Under the bed! Now!” Juntae whispers urgently.

Gotak doesn’t hesitate. He drops to his knees, flattens himself, and barely squeezes underneath just as the door opens.

“Juntae?” his dad’s voice calls from the doorway.

“Yeah?” Juntae answers, forcing his tone to be casual, praying he doesn’t sound guilty.

“Why are you talking so late? I thought I heard voices.”

“I… uh…” Juntae grabs the nearest textbook from his desk and opens it on his lap. “I was just reading out loud. French vocabulary. It helps me remember.”

Under the bed, Gotak holds his breath. His shoulder presses against a box of notebooks; dust clings to his hoodie. He can see the hem of Juntae’s pajamas dangling off the bed above him. His pulse is thunder in his ears.

“Reading out loud?” their dad says, suspicious. “Sounded like arguing.”

“I was arguing… with the grammar,” Juntae says. “It’s complicated.”

There’s a pause. Gotak can hear the man’s feet step further into the room. Every instinct in him screams to move, but he doesn’t dare.

“Don’t stay up too late,” their dad finally says. “You have school in the morning.”

“I won’t,” Juntae promises quickly.

The door closes. Silence.

Gotak waits until he hears footsteps retreating before whispering, “That was the scariest thirty seconds of my life.”

“Stay there a minute,” Juntae mutters, still pale. “He might come back."

So Gotak stays. He stares at the dust bunnies and the wooden slats of the bedframe and thinks: Worth it. Totally worth it.

After a long, tense pause, Juntae leans over the side and hisses, “You can come out now.”

Gotak crawls out, hair mussed, hoodie streaked with dust, and collapses back against the wall. “If I die, it’s gonna be because of you.”

“You came through the window,” Juntae points out, exasperated. “That’s on you.”

They both end up laughing, softly, in spite of everything—the adrenaline, the absurdity, the ridiculous way Gotak’s knees are scraped from the wooden floor.

The tension doesn’t vanish, but it cracks enough for them to breathe.

“Next time,” Juntae says when the laughter dies down, “don’t come through the window.”

“There’s going to be a next time?” Gotak asks carefully.

“I didn’t say that,” Juntae says, rolling his eyes, but there’s less bite in it this time.

The room is quieter now. Too quiet.

Juntae sits back down on the bed, knees pulled up, arms resting on them, staring at Gotak who’s still leaning against the wall, catching his breath like he just ran a marathon.

Gotak breaks the silence first, voice low. “I thought I was dead. No, actually- I thought your dad was gonna kill me, and then you were never gonna forgive me. That was the order of events in my head.”

Juntae raises a brow but says nothing. He just watches him. The cold wall between them is still there, but there’s a hairline crack in it now.

Gotak pushes a hand through his hair and sighs. “Look, I know I messed up. I didn’t come here to make excuses. I just… I needed to say it to your face.”

“You already did,” Juntae says quietly.

“Not like this,” Gotak insists. “At the party, everything was loud and messy and I didn’t even get to explain. I left you alone for thirty seconds. Thirty. And in those thirty seconds, I managed to ruin the only night you said yes to because of me.” His voice breaks a little on because of me. He looks down at the floor.

Juntae hesitates. His anger’s still there, like a bruise that hasn’t faded. But hearing him say it like that—earnest, unpolished—stirs something else. “You think just saying sorry is gonna fix it?” Juntae asks.

Gotak shakes his head immediately. “No. I don’t think anything’s gonna fix it, not right away. I just want you to know that I don’t take it lightly. That I know I hurt you.”

“You didn’t just hurt me,” Juntae says, a little sharper now. “You made me feel like an idiot. Like I trusted you, and then you just… left."

The weight of that word—left—hits Gotak square in the chest. He swallows hard. “I know,” he says softly. “That’s the part I keep thinking about. I promised I wouldn’t leave you, and I did. And the second I realized what happened, the only thing I wanted was to find you and fix it. But by then, it was too late.” He looks up finally, meeting Juntae’s eyes. “I swear to you, that’s not gonna happen again. I won’t leave. Not ever.”

For a long moment, neither of them speaks. The room feels small, heavy with unspoken things. “You always say that,” Juntae murmurs. “But words aren’t enough.”

“I know,” Gotak says again. And then, quietly: “Then tell me what I can do. Tell me what will make it up to you. If it’s something I can do, I’ll do it.”

The request hangs in the air. Juntae stares at him, chewing on his lip, torn between the urge to stay mad and the part of him that knows Gotak means it.

“I don’t know,” Juntae admits finally. “I just… don’t trust you right now. And I hate that.”

Gotak nods slowly, accepting it like a punch he knows he deserves. “Then let me earn it back.”

There’s another pause, softer this time.

Outside, the wind rattles the branches. Inside, the tension loosens, just a fraction. “You really climbed my window?” Juntae says after a while, almost incredulous.

Gotak lets out a small, sheepish laugh.

“Yeah. Wasn’t exactly graceful. Almost fell into the bushes. I think a cat laughed at me.”

Despite himself, Juntae snorts. “Good.”

For the first time that night, Gotak sees something in Juntae’s face other than anger: a flicker of amusement, reluctant but there.

He takes a breath. "I’ll get out of your way now. But… thanks for not letting me fall to my death back there.”

“Next time, use the door,” Juntae mutters.

Gotak grins, backing toward the window. “Next time you’ll actually open it for me?”

“Don’t push it.”

Gotak crouches on the narrow windowsill, muttering to himself. “Okay… slow and steady. Just like gym class.” He glances down at the ground below, which suddenly looks much farther away than it did coming up. “Why do people in movies make this look so easy?”

He swings one leg over, then the other, hanging there like some awkward bat. He’s just about to drop when—

CREEEAAK.

The window frame groans. Gotak freezes. Inside, Juntae hisses, whisper-yelling: “Don’t break my window!”

“Not helping!” Gotak whisper-yells back.

He finally lets go, landing with a loud thud on the grass. “Oof- quiet. Be quiet. Ow.”

For a brief moment, he just crouches there, grinning in victory.

And then—BARK!

From the neighbor’s yard, a tiny but furious dog explodes into hysterical yapping.

Gotak panics. “No no no no no—shut up, you little furry alarm system!”

The porch light flicks on. A deep, groggy voice calls from inside the house next door: “Who’s out there?!”

Gotak flattens himself against the siding, heart hammering. He crawls along the grass like he’s in a spy movie, whispering to himself: “You’re a shadow, you’re invisible, you’re- ow, that’s a rock.”

Back upstairs, Juntae leans out of his window, barely containing a laugh as he watches Gotak commando-crawl away from the barking dog and toward the fence. “Go home before you get arrested,” Juntae stage-whispers.

“I’m TRYING!” Gotak whisper-yells back, face red.

He reaches the fence, climbs halfway up, then—

SQUEAK.

His sneaker slips, and he ends up straddling the top of the fence with the least graceful expression known to mankind. “Oh, COME ON!”

The porch light gets brighter. A second voice now, annoyed: “Do I need to call the cops?!”

“NO!” Gotak blurts out automatically, then immediately slaps a hand over his mouth.

Realizing there’s no going back, he throws himself over the fence with one desperate lunge. He lands on the other side in a heap of limbs, groans, and gets up, limping off into the dark.

Juntae, still at the window, shakes his head, biting back a laugh. “Idiot.” But there’s the tiniest, reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he closes the window.

-

The morning sun has no mercy. Especially not for someone who spent half the night climbing walls, dodging barking dogs, and falling off fences.

Gotak limps into school like nothing’s wrong. At least, that’s the plan.

Plan: Walk normal. Smile normal. Pretend your leg doesn’t feel like it got run over by a truck. Do not look at Juntae first.

Reality: Every step feels like a dagger in his thigh, and the hall feels longer than a war movie.

Juntae spots him almost instantly when he comes around the corner.

Gotak freezes. He has rehearsed this. Act casual. Totally casual. He leans on a locker for support, then immediately realizes the locker is someone else’s, and the guy gives him a weird look. “Cool… locker,” Gotak says weakly, then hobbles away.

Juntae raises a brow. He’s wearing that carefully unreadable face again, but there’s a tiny flicker in his eyes.

Gotak swallows, straightens up as much as possible, and saunters over (or tries to). “Hey,” Gotak says. “Nice day, huh?”

Juntae folds his arms. “Why are you walking like that?”

“I’m not walking like anything,” Gotak says, a little too fast. “I just… decided to, you know, switch up my stride. Keep it fresh.”

For a second, there’s silence. Students are filing past, and Gotak feels like every single one of them can see how red his ears are.

Finally, Juntae sighs, turning back to his locker. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah,” Gotak mutters. “But I’m an idiot who- uh- keeps his promises… sort of.”

Juntae’s lips twitch, just barely. Then he shuts the locker and shoulders his bag. “Don’t think climbing a window makes me forgive you,” he says.

Gotak, limping alongside him, grins. “I know. But it’s a start, right?”

Juntae shakes his head and starts walking toward class. And despite the limp, the embarrassment, and the bruises, Gotak follows. A little lighter than before.

The classroom is already buzzing when they walk in. Suho is slouched in his seat like a cat, Sieun is reading (as usual), and Baku is entertaining himself by making paper airplanes and trying to land them on Suho’s head.

The second Gotak steps through the door, limping, three heads turn at once.

Baku grins like a wolf. “Whoa, hold up. Why does it look like you just fought a war and lost?”

Gotak freezes, halfway to his seat. “It’s nothing. Just… leg day.”

“You don’t do leg day,” Suho says flatly, eyes narrowing in that lazy, curious way of his.

Sieun lowers his book. “You’re walking like someone who fell off a fence.”

Gotak stares at him. “How do you even-"

Sieun goes back to reading. “Statistically, that’s the most likely explanation.”

Baku laughs so loud the teacher almost looks up from their phone. “Bro, did you fall off a fence?”

Gotak opens his mouth to deny it, but Juntae calmly slides into the seat next to him and answers instead, voice deceptively casual: “He fell off my fence.”

Baku’s eyes nearly pop out. “Wait- what? Why were you on his fence?”

“None of your business,” Gotak mutters, shoving books out of his bag with unnecessary force.

Suho’s gaze sharpens, like a shark scenting blood. “Climbing windows, huh?”

Gotak flushes bright red. “I wasn’t climbing windows. I was… doing… training.”

“Training,” Baku repeats, leaning forward with a grin. “Is that what they’re calling desperation these days?”

Sieun finally looks up again, frowning. “You were sneaking around at night? Are you actually stupid?”

Gotak groans, slumping in his seat. “Why does everyone assume the worst?”

Juntae, calm as ever, flips a page in his textbook. “Because it was the worst.”

Baku smirks. “Man, I wish I’d seen it. You falling off a fence? That’s comedy gold.”

“Shut up,” Gotak mutters, but there’s no bite in it. He shoots a sideways glance at Juntae, who’s just calmly highlighting notes like nothing happened.

Suho leans back in his chair, crossing his arms, his eyes flicking between the two of them. “So. What I’m hearing is… this wasn’t just you being an idiot. This was you being an idiot… for someone.”

Gotak freezes, while Baku’s grin widens. “Ohhh. Now that’s interesting.”

The teacher finally calls for quiet, but the damage is done.

For the rest of the lesson, Baku keeps passing folded notes to Gotak with little stick figures falling off fences. Suho doesn’t say much, just smirks every time Gotak catches him looking.

And Juntae? Juntae just keeps working, like he didn’t just expose him in front of everyone.

But under the desk, when no one’s watching, Juntae nudges his leg against Gotak’s—just once. Subtle. Almost like an apology.

-

By the time lunch rolls around, Baku is still riding the high of Gotak’s humiliation.

The cafeteria is loud, trays clattering, and the four of them end up at the same table: Suho, Baku, Gotak, and Juntae. Sieun hesitates, tray in hand, but Suho waves him over with an easy grin like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Baku starts before anyone even sits. “So, just to clarify… you snuck over to Juntae’s house, scaled a fence like some kind of raccoon, and then fell on your face?”

Gotak drops his tray on the table with a heavy thud. “Can you not say it so loud? And I didn’t fall on my face. It was… strategic.”

Suho lifts an eyebrow. “Strategic gravity?”

Juntae, deadpan, takes a sip of his drink. “Strategic stupidity.”

Baku cackles so loud a teacher glares at him. He lowers his voice, just barely. “What were you even trying to do? Sneak in like Romeo?”

Gotak glares. “I wasn’t-”

“Wait.” The quiet voice cuts through the chatter. Everyone turns to Sieun, who has been watching with mild suspicion while unwrapping his sandwich.

Sieun frowns, looking between Gotak and Juntae. “If you were outside his window… how did I not see you?”

Gotak blinks. “…Huh?”

“Our rooms are next to each other,” Sieun says matter-of-factly. “We literally share a wall. You’d have to pass by my window to reach his.”

Baku almost falls off his chair laughing. “Oh, no way. You risked your life and you could’ve been spotted by Sieun the whole time?”

Suho’s grin grows slow and dangerous, like he’s enjoying this far too much. “So you were that desperate, huh?”

Gotak is turning red again, stammering. "I- it was dark! And I wasn’t- I didn’t think-” 

Sieun interrupts, calm as ever. “You’re lucky I was reading. If I’d looked up, I would’ve thought you were a burglar and hit you with something.”

“That would’ve been the end of Gotak,” Baku says, still wheezing. “Death by literature.”

Suho leans forward on his elbows, chin resting on his hands, studying Gotak with mock curiosity. “Climbing windows, getting caught, limping all day… This is starting to sound like a plan. What’s your endgame?”

Gotak groans, hiding his face in his hands. “Can everyone please just drop it?”

For a moment, there’s silence—except for Baku’s muffled snickering.

Then Juntae, calm as ever, says, “You didn’t answer him.” 

The table goes dead quiet. Gotak lifts his head, panicked. Juntae is looking at him, not teasing—just curious. And Sieun? Sieun is still watching too, waiting for the answer, as if he’s trying to decide whether this whole thing was idiotic or weirdly sweet.

The tension holds until Suho claps his hands once, grinning. “Well, whatever it was, it worked. You got all of us entertained, at least.”

Baku grins wickedly. “And probably got yourself grounded. But hey, maybe next time you try the front door?”

The conversation eventually shifts, but the atmosphere at the table changes. It’s the first time Sieun stays the whole lunch with them, listening. And Gotak—despite his humiliation—doesn’t leave.

The bell rings, drowning out the chaos of the cafeteria. Trays clatter, shoes squeak, and the hallway swells with noise as everyone rushes to class.

Sieun slips out first, walking fast as usual, head slightly down like he’s already cataloging all the reasons he regrets saying yes to this stupid party.

Behind him, Suho stands from their table, stretching lazily. “Wait here,” he tosses at Baku and Gotak before weaving into the crowd.

“Hey,” Suho’s voice cuts through the hallway din.

Sieun doesn’t slow down. “You don’t need to-”

“I do.” Suho matches his stride easily, hands in his pockets, grin tugging at his mouth. “Thanks again for agreeing to go to the party.”

Sieun shoots him a sideways glance. “I didn’t do it for you.”

“Didn’t say you did,” Suho says, tone infuriatingly casual. “Still, you made my night. You have no idea what you just saved me from.”

Sieun raises an eyebrow. “Saved you?”

“Yeah. I was fully prepared to waste an entire evening stuck at some wall with Baku narrating every bad song. Now, at least, there was one decent person there.”

Sieun exhales through his nose, unimpressed. “You think flattery works on me?”

Suho tilts his head, smirk widening. “Is it flattery if it’s true?”

Before Sieun can retort, the bell rings again, and he disappears into the classroom. Suho lingers in the hallway a moment longer, running a hand through his hair, grinning to himself like someone who’s just found a puzzle piece that finally fits.

-

[Group Chat: “Disaster Club”]

Baku:

Yo, everyone’s here? Gotta tell you something

New kid’s coming to our class next week

Suho:

New kid? Seriously? Didn’t we just get done with all that drama? Can’t we get a break?

Gotak:

Great. Just what we need. Another wildcard in the mix.

Juntae:

Anyone know who it is? What’s the deal?

Sieun:

New students always mean problems. Guaranteed.

Baku:

No idea who he is exactly, but rumor is he’s from out of town and has a bit of a rep. Heard he’s not the type to back down from a fight.

Suho:

Figures. Why would it be anyone chill?

Gotak:

Honestly, I’m more worried about what kind of trouble this kid could bring. You know how things get around here.

Juntae:

Yeah, the moment someone new shows up, it’s like the whole school flips upside down.

Sieun:

We don’t need more chaos. Just keep your guard up.

Baku:

Exactly. But hey, if he’s a problem, we’ll deal with it. Disaster Club doesn’t back down.

Suho:

I’m curious what this kid looks like. Is he some tough guy trying to claim territory or just a loner?

Gotak:

Or maybe both. Either way, this could get messy.

Juntae:

Honestly, I’m just tired of all the fake friends and alliances. Hope this kid’s genuine.

Sieun:

Don’t count on it. High school doesn’t work like that.

Baku:

Well, whatever happens, we stick together. No way I’m letting this place turn into a free-for-all.

Suho:

Agreed. And if he tries anything, he’s messing with the wrong group.

Gotak:

We should keep an eye out the first day. Watch for red flags.

Juntae:

You know, sometimes these new kids surprise you. Could be someone worth having around.

Sieun:

Maybe. Or maybe we’re just setting ourselves up for more headaches.

Baku:

Either way, we’ll find out soon enough. Stay sharp, everyone.

-

The bell hadn’t rung yet, and the four of them—Suho, Sieun, Gotak, and Juntae—were loitering just outside their classroom door. Baku was leaning against the wall like he owned the hallway, his phone out, watching for any sign of the mysterious “new kid” he’d been hyping up for the past two days.

“Why are you so hyped about this?” Suho asked, arms crossed.

“Because,” Baku said, smirking, “this place has been boring since the party. We need some fresh chaos.”

“Yeah, we definitely need more of that,” Sieun deadpanned, his expression flat as ever. “Exactly what I asked for, more noise.”

Gotak shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Juntae. “You think he’s gonna try to, like, fight people day one?”

“I don’t know,” Juntae replied, adjusting his bag. “You said he has a rep, right?”

Baku held up a finger dramatically. “Rep. Mystery. Bad-boy-from-another-district vibe. I heard he got kicked out of his last school for… well, I couldn’t get a straight answer on what for.”

Sieun sighed. “That’s very reassuring.”

Suho raised an eyebrow. “You sure you didn’t just make all that up?”

“Would I do that?” Baku said with mock innocence.

“Yes,” all four of them answered at the same time.

Baku grinned but didn’t deny it. “Okay, okay, but watch. He’ll be in our class today. I can feel it.”

The teacher cleared her throat. “Everyone, settle down. We have a new student joining us today.”

The chatter in the room dipped instantly. Every head turned toward the door.

The boy who stepped in had an easy posture, one hand in his pocket, the other gripping his bag strap. Black hair falling slightly into his eyes, sharp features, and a calm, unreadable expression that didn’t seem fazed by the attention.

“This is Baek Jin,” the teacher said. “He transferred here from Gyeongdo.”

The room buzzed with whispers. Sieun’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, scanning him like he was an equation to solve. Suho, meanwhile, tilted his head, clearly curious but staying silent.

Gotak muttered under his breath, “Well… he looks like trouble.”

Juntae leaned closer. “Or maybe just bored. Can’t tell.”

And Baku? Baku froze. Absolutely froze.

It was like someone had hit him with a brick. His usual smirk fell right off, and his mouth actually hung open for a second before he remembered how to breathe. “Holy…” he whispered, eyes locked on Baek Jin like the rest of the world had disappeared.

Suho elbowed him. “What?”

Baku didn’t even look away. “I’m in love.”

Gotak choked on air. “What?!”

Juntae stared at him. “Are you serious? You don’t even know him!”

“I don’t need to know him,” Baku whispered fiercely. “Look at him. That hair. That face. That aura. He’s everything. He’s chaos but, like… beautiful chaos.”

Sieun rolled his eyes. “You are unbelievable.”

Baek Jin glanced across the room while the teacher pointed him to an empty desk… and for a split second, his gaze brushed over their table. Baku straightened instantly like a kid caught doing something wrong.

Suho smirked. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

Baku leaned across the desk, voice low but urgent. "I’m making a move. No one else talk to him before I do.”

“Relax,” Suho said. “He hasn’t even unpacked his books.”

Gotak snorted. “You? Making a move? You’ll combust before you even say hi.”

“Combust with charm,” Baku corrected, though he was visibly sweating. “I need a plan.”

Sieun muttered, “Plan to leave him alone, maybe.”

But Baku wasn’t listening anymore. His entire focus was on Baek Jin, already mapping out scenarios in his head.

Baku was usually the one who made the room restless. Now, he felt like he was the one trapped in someone else’s gravity.

And it was driving him insane.

He propped his chin on his hand, eyes flicking up every two seconds despite himself. Baek Jin sat two rows over and one desk up—close enough that Baku could see the sharp line of his jaw, the way he leaned back in his chair like none of this mattered. Calm. Untouchable.

What is his deal? Baku thought. Nobody sits like that unless they know they can fight everyone in this room and win.

The teacher’s voice blurred into background noise. He couldn’t focus. Instead, his mind was running wild.

Okay, okay. Maybe he’s a total loner. Brooding type. Reads poetry in secret. Maybe he—no, wait. What if he’s just naturally that cool? Like, doesn’t even try?

He forced himself to look at his notebook.

Next to him, Suho leaned over and whispered without looking up, “Stop staring. You look creepy.”

“I’m not staring,” Baku whispered back. “I’m just… analyzing.”

Sieun, from the other side, muttered, “Your mouth’s been open for five minutes.”

Baku snapped his jaw shut. “I’m strategizing, okay? There’s a difference.”

“Uh-huh,” Sieun said flatly, flipping a page.

Halfway through the lesson, the teacher asked a question about some history reading no one had done. Everyone went silent. Then, unexpectedly, Baek Jin answered.

His voice was calm, even. Not loud. Just enough to cut through the awkward hush.

He’s smart too? Great. Perfect. Of course he is.

Baku’s pen dropped to the floor. Juntae reached down, picked it up, and handed it back without looking. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Baku leaned closer, whispering, “Do you think he noticed me?”

“Noticed you doing what? Drooling?” Juntae said, eyes still on the board.

As the period dragged on, Baku’s imagination spiraled out of control.

Okay. Here’s the plan. After class, I’m gonna casually walk by, bump his desk, say something smooth like, ‘Hey, welcome to the jungle.’ No, wait. That sounds stupid. Maybe something cooler. Like, ‘You survived your first class. Congratulations.’ No. Too cheesy. Damn it, Baku, get it together!

Every time Baek Jin moved—picking up his pen, brushing his hair back, even just leaning on his hand—Baku’s attention snapped to it. His pulse sped up.

He felt like he was in a movie and no one had told him they were filming.

At one point, Baek Jin turned his head slightly, glancing toward the window. For a fraction of a second, his eyes flicked past Baku’s table.

Baku froze. Did he just? No. He didn’t. But what if he did?

He sat up straighter. Tried to look casual. Failed miserably.

Suho’s voice came in low again. “You’re shaking your leg so hard the floor’s vibrating.”

“I can’t help it,” Baku whispered, barely moving his lips. “Do you see him? He’s like… perfect.”

Sieun muttered, “This is painful to watch.”

The bell rang and the room erupted into noise—desks scraping, kids rushing for the door.

Baku wiped his palms on his pants, heart hammering like he was about to step into a boxing ring instead of walk across a classroom.

Okay. This is it. You just gotta be cool. Chill. Smooth.

Behind him, Suho leaned back in his chair. “Don’t trip,” he said.

Sieun didn’t even look up from his notebook. “He’s definitely going to trip.”

“Faith, people!” Baku hissed at them, before squaring his shoulders.

Baek Jin was calmly putting his books into his bag, like he had all the time in the world. Everyone else had already cleared out.

Perfect. An opening.

Baku strolled over, aiming for casual—but overshot “casual” and landed in “overly confident strut.”

He stopped by Baek Jin’s desk, leaned one elbow on it, and said, “Hey. Welcome to… uh… this school.”

Baek Jin slowly looked up, dark eyes unreadable. “…Thanks?”

Baku nodded, too fast. “Yeah, yeah, no problem. I just thought, y’know, first day- must be tough. Not that you look like you need help or anything. You look like… you could fight a bear. Which is cool. Really cool.”

What are you saying? Shut up! Shut up!

He laughed awkwardly. “Anyway, I’m Humin People call me Baku. What’s your-”

“Baek Jin.” The reply was short, polite. Then Baek Jin zipped his bag.

“Right, Baek Jin! Nice, uh, consonance,” Baku said. Consonance? Who even says that?

Baek Jin raised one eyebrow. “Do you… need something?”

Abort mission. Abort!

“Nope! No! Just thought I’d… you know, say hi. Make you feel… welcome. Like, really welcome. Like, overly welcome. Not that I’m overly anything- except maybe friendly. And cool. I’m cool. Definitely.”

There was a long pause.

“…Right,” Baek Jin said at last, standing up. He was taller than Baku expected. Calm, collected, like nothing phased him. “See you around,” Baek Jin added, and walked out.

Baku just stood there, staring at the empty doorway. …That was terrible. That was the worst conversation of my life.

Behind him, slow clapping echoed. He turned to see Suho and Sieun at their desks, both smirking. Juntae was covering his mouth, trying not to laugh.

“Shut up,” Baku muttered.

“That was painful,” Suho said, grinning.

“I blacked out halfway through,” Sieun added dryly. “Did you say he could fight a bear?”

“I panicked, okay?!” Baku hissed, throwing his hands up. “He just- he has this vibe! You wouldn’t understand!”

Juntae, laughing now, said, “Bro, I’ve never seen you this flustered.”

Baku dropped into his chair, head in his hands. “I’m ruined. He’s never gonna talk to me again.”

Suho smirked. “On the plus side, I think he’ll definitely remember you.”

“Yeah,” Sieun said. “As the guy who talked about bears.”

-

The afternoon sky had turned that soft honey color, long shadows stretching across the pavement as students spilled out of the gates. The noise of the day—shouts, laughter, the occasional bark of someone chasing a friend—gradually faded the further Sieun and Suho walked.

Sieun always liked this part of the day: the emptying streets, the calm after hours of sitting in a classroom full of people he had no interest in. Normally, he would walk alone, earphones in, the world fading to a blur.

But Suho had a habit of appearing at his side. Always. Like he had decided somewhere along the way that Sieun’s walks home were his business too. Today was no different.

“You know,” Suho began after a few minutes of companionable silence, “I didn’t think Baku could humiliate himself more than he already does on a regular basis. But today? Today was a masterpiece.”

Sieun kept his gaze straight ahead, hands in the pockets of his uniform jacket. “You mean the bear comment?”

Suho let out a laugh that startled a flock of birds from a nearby tree. “Exactly. A bear. He called Baek Jin a bear. And then just stood there like someone had stolen his brain.”

“The way Baek Jin stared at him,” Sieun said flatly, “I thought he was going to get a restraining order right there.”

“That stare could have frozen lava,” Suho said. “And then the silence… wow. I think my ears are still ringing from how painful it was.”

Sieun almost smiled—almost. “That silence might have killed him. He’s probably at home now, replaying the moment over and over.”

Suho smirked. “Good. Maybe next time he’ll think before opening his mouth.”

“You really think he’s capable of that?”

There was a beat of silence, then Suho laughed again. “...Fair point.”

For a while they walked like that, the rhythm of their steps falling into sync. Suho kept sneaking glances at him. It was annoying—how calm Sieun looked. It made Suho want to poke at him, to see if he could stir up something.

“By the way,” Suho said, voice light, “what about you?”

Sieun frowned slightly, not looking at him. “What about me?”

“You know…” Suho tilted his head, pretending to look thoughtful. “Do you have a type?”

Sieun stopped just short of rolling his eyes. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Curiosity,” Suho said, a grin tugging at his mouth. “We’re talking about Baku and his whole disaster, so it made me wonder what your standards are. Or if you even have any.”

“You’re assuming I have any,” Sieun said, calm as ever.

“That sounds like something someone with a very specific type would say,” Suho teased. “Come on. Tall? Short? Smart? Quiet? Or…” He leaned a little closer, lowering his voice, “mysterious guys who like to pick fights?”

“Don’t start,” Sieun warned.

“Oh, I’m just curious,” Suho said innocently. “So… you don’t like anyone?”

“No.”

“No one at all?”

Sieun finally turned his head to look at him, expression unreadable. “Why do you care?”

Suho smirked. “Maybe I’m trying to figure out if I should be offended.”

That earned him a raised brow. “Offended?”

“Yeah. Because if I’m not your type,” Suho said, deliberately slow, “then you have terrible taste.”

For a second, Sieun just looked at him. Then he looked away again, quick and sharp, like he refused to give Suho the satisfaction of a reaction. “Don’t flatter yourself,” Sieun muttered.

“Ohhh, that sounds like a dodge,” Suho said, grinning so wide now his eyes nearly disappeared. “So you’re saying there’s a chance?”

“I’m saying you talk too much,” Sieun replied, but his ears—just the tips—had gone faintly pink. Suho saw it, stored it away like a secret.

“You’re no fun,” Suho said lightly.

“I didn’t ask to be fun.”

“Still,” Suho said, hands sliding into his pockets as he fell into step with him again, “I’m gonna find out one of these days.”

“Good luck,” Sieun said, eyes fixed straight ahead.

When they reached the corner where their paths split, Suho slowed his steps, reluctant to break the fragile quiet that had settled between them after the teasing.

“See you tomorrow?” he asked.

“Unfortunately,” Sieun said without looking back, but it was softer than usual.

Suho grinned at the familiar answer, watching him turn down his street.

Only when Sieun was out of sight did Suho let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, the grin still tugging at his lips as he raked a hand through his hair.

-

The classroom was noisy as usual before homeroom, students leaning across desks, swapping snacks, or sleeping with their heads down.

Baku was half-doodling, half-peeking at the door, clearly hoping Baekjin would walk in early.

And Suho—Suho had his chin propped on his hand, eyes scanning the room until they landed on Sieun. He grinned.

“Hey, Sieun,” Suho called across the short distance, voice carrying easily.

Sieun paused mid-step, already suspicious. “What.”

“Come here a sec.”

He didn’t move. “I’m fine here.”

Suho ignored that, patting the empty desk beside him. “Just come sit. It’s important.”

With an irritated sigh that sounded like it came from the depths of his soul, Sieun finally dragged himself over, dropping his bag with a heavy thud and sitting down.

“This better be good,” Sieun muttered.

Suho’s grin widened. “So… we were talking about types yesterday.”

Sieun blinked. “We were not-”

“Don’t interrupt,” Suho said smoothly, leaning closer. “You know how Baku embarrassed himself with Baekjin? That whole thing got me thinking. I asked you yesterday what your type was.”

“Which I didn’t answer.”

“Exactly,” Suho said, eyes glinting. “And I thought maybe you just didn’t want to say it out loud with no one else around. Maybe you need an audience.”

Sieun’s brows knitted. “You’re unbelievable.”

Gotak looked up from his book. “Wait, wait- what’s this about types?”

“Oh, you’re gonna like this,” Suho said. “I’m trying to figure out what Sieun’s into. You know, for science.”

Baku, suddenly alert, leaned over. “What if he likes someone quiet and serious? Like… bookworm serious.”

“Or someone tall and kinda dangerous,” Gotak suggested, clearly enjoying this.

“Or someone strong and mysterious,” Suho added, dramatically placing a hand over his chest. “You know. Like me.”

Sieun groaned, “Can you hear yourself?”

“Loud and clear,” Suho said, smug. “So? You gonna admit I’m your type, or are you gonna keep dodging?”

The class around them had started to notice, a few students turning to listen.

Sieun, realizing this, pinched the bridge of his nose like he was seconds away from walking out. “If I tell you, will you shut up?”

Suho tilted his head. “Depends. Is the answer me?”

“No.”

“That sounded fake,” Suho teased.

Gotak smirked. “C’mon, Sieun, it’s not like anyone’s gonna make fun of you.” 

“Unless your type is Baku,” Suho said instantly. “Then we definitely will.”

“Wow,” Baku said, offended.

Sieun finally lifted his head, eyes sharp. “You really want to know?”

All three of them nodded, leaning in like conspirators. “My type,” Sieun said slowly, “is someone who knows how to be quiet.”

There was a beat of silence before Suho broke into a grin so wide it was almost blinding. “So, basically, not me.”

“Exactly.”

Suho leaned back, unbothered. “Cool. That means I just have to make you change your mind.”

“You can’t change someone’s type,” Sieun replied, voice flat.

“Watch me,” Suho said, eyes glinting with something mischievous.

Before Sieun could reply, the teacher came in, breaking up the crowd of curious onlookers.

As everyone scrambled back to their seats, Suho leaned just close enough to murmur, “By the end of this semester, you’re gonna admit I’m your type. Bet on it.”

Sieun didn’t even look at him, but the small twitch in his jaw was enough for Suho to count it as a win.

The classroom had finally settled into that muffled hum that came just before first period: pencils tapping, papers rustling, whispers like static.

From his seat diagonally behind, Suho quietly tore a small piece of paper from his notebook.

With a faint grin, he scribbled:

“So… if your type is someone who can stay quiet, does that mean I just have to shut up to win?”

He folded it twice, then once again, until it was a neat square. Waiting until the teacher turned to write something on the board, he flicked it forward with precision, landing it right by Sieun’s elbow.

Sieun glanced down at the folded note. He didn’t move to open it.

Suho smirked. He knew that look—the one where Sieun debated whether acknowledging something was worth the effort.

Finally, with a small exhale, Sieun unfolded the note under the desk. His pen scratched out a single reply:

“You’d have to be quiet forever. Impossible.”

The note came back, passed silently over a row of distracted students. Suho unfolded it and laughed silently, shaking his head. He wrote back quickly:

“Forever is a long time. You think I couldn’t do it for you?”

He tapped the shoulder of the kid in front of him to pass it forward again.

Sieun read the new line, lips pressing together, not in anger but in the same way someone does when they’re trying not to let anything show. He wrote, slower this time.

“You’d last ten minutes. At best.”

Suho leaned forward on his desk, chin on folded arms, pretending to focus on the board while he read. He bit the inside of his cheek, grinning wider.

“Bet? If I stay quiet for a whole class, you owe me an answer. About your real type.”

There was a pause. Suho could see Sieun just holding the note, not writing yet.

When Sieun finally passed it back, the handwriting was sharper.

“You couldn’t stay quiet if your life depended on it.”

And with that, Sieun didn’t send the note back again.

He slid it into his notebook and opened a fresh page, deliberately keeping his focus forward.

Suho sat back in his chair, arms crossed, grin stubborn as ever.

Fine. Ten minutes? Watch me, Yeon Sieun.

The teacher droned on about French verb conjugations at the front of the class. Suho didn’t even hear her. His entire focus was on the clock above the board. One second at a time.

Five minutes in, he was doing great. He’d doodled a few scribbles on the edge of his notebook, stretched his arms once, but otherwise—completely silent.

By minute six, though, he caught himself looking at Sieun again. The way Sieun’s pen moved—neat, clean, no wasted motion—was distracting. Everything about him was distracting.

Why does he look like he’s been doing this his whole life? Why does he look so calm all the time?

He bit the inside of his cheek again, trying not to say anything. He’d prove a point.

Minute eight.

The teacher asked a question. Suho’s hand twitched. He knew the answer. He wanted to say it—just to show off—but Sieun’s words rang in his ears: You couldn’t stay quiet if your life depended on it.

He gripped the edge of his desk instead.

Minute nine. A paper airplane sailed past his head from somewhere behind. It hit the back of Sieun’s chair and fell to the floor.

Suho glanced at it. He glanced at Sieun. And that was it. His mouth opened before his brain could stop him. “Careful,” Suho said, low but clearly audible to Sieun, leaning forward. “You’ve got incoming enemy fire.”

Sieun didn’t even look at him. Just muttered, “You lasted nine minutes.” The tiniest smirk tugged at the corner of Sieun’s lips, though—so fast Suho almost thought he imagined it.

“Hey- hey, that doesn’t count!” Suho whispered back, leaning closer. “I was warning you. That’s different.”

“That’s talking,” Sieun replied, still writing, calm as ever.

By minute ten, Suho had completely given up. He pulled out his notebook and scribbled another note.

“Fine. You win. So tell me do I have to be quiet and handsome, or just quiet?”

He flicked it forward again.

This time, Sieun didn’t even open the note. He just slid it back to Suho without a word, his expression deadpan.

In tiny letters on the outside of the folded page, he had written: “Neither. Focus on class.”

Suho sat back in his seat, staring at the neat handwriting. And grinned like an idiot for the rest of the period.

-

The bell rang.

The hallway was loud with footsteps and chatter, but Suho spotted him easily—a familiar straight back, uniform neat, shoulders squared like armor.

Sieun walked fast, like he was trying to outrun the entire school.

Suho smirked and adjusted his pace, weaving through the crowd until he was right beside him.

“Hey,” Suho said, casual but already slightly breathless from jogging to catch up.

Sieun didn’t even glance at him. “What.”

“‘What’? That’s cold. No hello?”

“Didn’t think you’d want one,” Sieun replied flatly, eyes ahead.

“Oh, I definitely want one,” Suho said, tilting his head down to try and catch Sieun’s eye. “Preferably with my name in it.”

No reaction. He wasn’t deterred.

“You read my note, right?”

“I read it,” Sieun said.

“And?”

“It was annoying.”

Suho clutched his chest in mock agony. “Annoying? That was one of my finest pieces of work. Took me a whole two minutes.”

They reached the stairwell. Suho stayed glued to his side, walking backwards now so he could watch Sieun’s face.

“You didn’t answer my question, though,” Suho said. “So, what is your type?”

“I don’t have one,” Sieun said immediately.

“That’s a lie.”

“It’s the truth.”

Suho leaned closer, just enough to make him tense. “You sure? Because if I had to guess, I’d say… someone tall, handsome, probably good at fighting, mysterious but with a great smile.”

“That sounds like you,” Sieun deadpanned, finally cutting him a sharp side glance.

“Exactly!” Suho grinned. “So I’m right?”

“You’re delusional.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs, but Suho didn’t fall back. “You know,” Suho said, dropping his voice a little, “most people at this school would kill to get your attention. I’m just trying to earn it the hard way.”

“You could stop trying,” Sieun suggested.

“Not a chance.”

For the first time, Sieun slowed, turned to look at him fully. His eyes were cold, calm, but there was something curious flickering underneath. “You don’t even know me,” he said.

Suho smiled, softer this time. “That’s why I’m trying to.”

The air between them tightened, thick with something Suho couldn’t quite name. Then Sieun broke it, turning back toward the hallway. “You’re wasting your time.”

“Guess I’ll have to keep wasting it, then,” Suho said, falling into step beside him again with that same infuriating grin. “I’m good at that.”

From behind them, Baku’s voice echoed from the staircase: “DOWN BAD, SUHO! SO DOWN BAD!”

Suho groaned, dragging a hand down his face, but didn’t move away from Sieun.

When they reached the school gates, most of the crowd had already spilled out onto the street.

Sieun was heading straight for home like a soldier on a mission, backpack tight against his shoulder, every step precise. Suho, however, was still at his side, refusing to take the hint.

“Persistent, aren’t you?” Sieun finally muttered, glancing at him.

“Persistent? I prefer ‘determined,’” Suho said. “It sounds more noble.”

“It sounds desperate.”

“And yet here I am.”

They paused at the crossing, the late afternoon sun burning gold across the pavement. Sieun stepped to the edge of the curb, waiting for the light to change.

Suho shoved his hands in his pockets, leaning slightly toward him.

“You always walk straight home?” Suho asked.

“Yes.”

“No detours? No hanging out?”

“No.”

“You know that makes it way too easy for people to stalk you, right?”

Sieun shot him a look. “Are you saying you’re a stalker?”

Suho grinned. “Only for you.”

The light turned green. Sieun stepped forward. Suho stayed with him.

“Listen,” Suho said, trying to keep his voice casual but failing to hide the edge of anticipation in it, “there’s this… place. Little café not far from here. Good drinks. Quiet. You should come with me sometime.”

“No.”

“That was fast.”

“You asked. I answered.”

Suho sighed dramatically. “One day, you’re going to say yes. And when you do, you’re going to pretend it wasn’t because of me.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Maybe. But I like imagining things with you in them.”

They were close to the corner now, the one where their paths would split. Sieun slowed just slightly, enough for Suho to notice, but not enough for it to look deliberate.

Suho smiled faintly. He took a small step closer, his voice dropping softer, more sincere this time.

“For real, though,” he said, “thanks for agreeing to that party.”

“That wasn’t for you.”

“I know. But I’m glad you were there anyway.”

Sieun rolled his eyes and walked away without another word.

Suho watched him go, standing there at the gates like an idiot, smiling to himself.

“Down bad,” Baku muttered again from behind him, making Suho jump.

“I swear to- how do you keep appearing out of nowhere?!” Suho hissed, spinning around. But his eyes were still on Sieun’s retreating back.

From across the street, slightly hidden behind the tall metal fence near the bike racks, two pairs of eyes had been glued to the entire exchange at the gates.

Juntae kicked lightly at the gravel under his shoe, arms crossed. “Are they always like that?” he muttered.

Gotak was leaning an elbow on the fence, squinting at Suho and Sieun as if the intensity of his stare could somehow make Sieun less terrifying. "Honestly? Suho’s worse when you’re not around. You should see him when he’s texting Baku about it. He’s like… feral.”

The two of them watched as Suho threw one last grin at Sieun’s back and stood there, looking like a lovesick idiot.

Juntae let out a soft laugh. “He’s shameless.”

They started walking toward their own path home. The sun was dipping, throwing long shadows across the sidewalk.

Gotak shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket and glanced sideways at Juntae.

“So…” he began carefully. “Since we’re talking about types and all… do you even have one?”

Juntae blinked. “Type?”

“Yeah. Like, people you… like.”

“That’s a stupid question.”

“Is it?” Gotak grinned nervously. “Come on, I just wanna know.”

Juntae hesitated, looking ahead. “I don’t know. Someone who… isn’t fake, I guess. Someone who actually listens. Loyal. Doesn’t leave when things get hard.”

Gotak’s steps slowed for a moment. The description hit him like a slap, but he couldn’t tell if Juntae was aware of what he was saying. “And,” Juntae added, a little softer, “someone who makes me feel… safe. Like I can just be me.”

Gotak felt heat rush to his face. “You just described me.”

“That’s your ego talking,” Juntae said, but there was the tiniest flicker of a smile on his lips.

They walked in silence for a bit. Gotak kept sneaking glances at him, heart pounding so hard it drowned out the street noise.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “About… the party. And Seongje. And… everything. I really am sorry, Juntae. I know I promised I wouldn’t leave you, and I screwed up.”

Juntae stayed quiet, hands buried in his pockets. “I hate that I hurt you,” Gotak continued, voice lower now. “I hate that I made you feel like you couldn’t trust me. You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about it since that night.”

“…You did punch him, though,” Juntae said at last.

“Yeah. And I’d do it again if he even looked at you the wrong way.”

For the first time since that night, Juntae laughed. It was soft and quick, but real. "Idiot.”

Gotak stopped walking. “Does that mean you forgive me?”

Juntae didn’t answer immediately. He kicked at another rock, then turned to look at him fully. “Don’t break your promise again,” he said simply.

Gotak’s face lit up like someone had switched on every streetlight in the city. “I won’t. Ever. I swear.”

“Good,” Juntae said, looking away quickly before Gotak could see the way his ears had gone red.

Gotak fell into step beside him again, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. He couldn’t help smiling.

They crossed the next intersection in comfortable silence. Cars passed with their headlights on, washing the pavement in streaks of gold. The noise of the city seemed far away, muffled by the quiet bubble the two of them had fallen into.

“Y’know,” Gotak said after a while, “I really thought you were never going to talk to me again."

Juntae shoved his hands deeper into his jacket. “I thought about it.”

“Ouch.” Gotak clutched his chest dramatically. “That hurts.”

“Good,” Juntae said, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “You deserve it.”

They walked a few more steps. Gotak tried not to look as giddy as he felt. “Do you always hold grudges like that?” he asked.

“Depends on the person,” Juntae replied.

“And with me?”

Juntae looked sideways at him. “With you… I expected more. So yeah, I was mad.”

The honesty in his voice made Gotak’s throat tighten. “Fair. But I’m making it up to you.”

They passed by a little corner shop. The neon lights flickered against Juntae’s face, making him look like he belonged on a movie poster. “You want a drink?” Gotak asked suddenly, nodding toward the store.  "My treat. Peace offering.”

Juntae thought about it for a second, then shrugged. “Fine.”

Inside, Gotak picked up two cans of soda, and when he came back out, he held one out like it was some kind of ceremonial gift.

Juntae accepted it, tapped the top, and muttered, “You’re weird.”

“And yet, here you are,” Gotak said, grinning.

They resumed walking. The cool night air bit at their cheeks, and for a moment, it was just the sound of soda cans opening and the fizz of carbonation.

“Are you nervous?” Juntae asked after a sip.

“Huh?”

“About me forgiving you.”

“Uh- yeah,” Gotak admitted. “Like, I feel like I just got a second chance and I can’t mess it up.”

Juntae didn’t reply right away. Instead, he glanced at him over the can. “Don’t.”

A silence stretched between them, comfortable this time.

Then, Juntae said, “You’re lucky Suho didn’t kill you for leaving me at that party.”

Gotak laughed. “He glared at me like he was about to.”

“He told me he would’ve if you hadn’t already punched Seongje.”

“See? Even Suho gets it.”

By the time they reached Juntae’s street, the tension that had been lingering between them since the party was almost gone.

At his gate, Juntae stopped and turned to him. “So… see you tomorrow?"

Gotak’s grin softened. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

“Don’t be late.”

“I’m never late,” Gotak said, then paused. “Well, except for-”

“Bye, Tak-ah,” Juntae cut him off, but this time there was a little laugh in his voice.

Gotak watched him go inside before heading down the street, smiling like an idiot all the way home.

-

The house was quiet when Juntae came back that night, still feeling the fizz of the soda can in his hand and the strange, weightless warmth that walking with Gotak had left in his chest.

He kicked off his shoes by the door and padded inside, only to stop dead in the doorway of the kitchen.

Sieun was there, leaning against the counter with a glass of water, as if he’d been waiting. “...You’re home late,” Sieun said, voice neutral.

Juntae swallowed. “Yeah. I was walking.”

“With him?”

There was no need to ask who him was. Juntae blinked. “...Gotak?”

Sieun just raised an eyebrow, the kind of look that peeled back all of Juntae’s excuses.

Juntae tried to make a beeline for the fridge, but Sieun didn’t move.

“What’s going on with you two?” Sieun asked, tone sharper now.

“Nothing,” Juntae muttered.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not-”

“Juntae.” The way Sieun said his name cut through his defences. “You told me yourself you liked him. Before the party. And then that night you came home furious and now…” He gestured vaguely toward him. “Now you look like you’ve just walked back from a date.”

Juntae froze with his hand on the fridge handle. “It wasn’t a date.”

“But you like him,” Sieun pressed, his sharp eyes pinning him in place. “So tell me what happened.”

For a moment, Juntae considered lying again, but there was no point. Sieun already knew too much.

He closed the fridge without grabbing anything and leaned back against it, exhaling hard. "I don’t know. He apologized. He’s been trying. He walked me home. We talked. It was… nice.”

Sieun’s head tilted, studying his younger brother like he was trying to figure out how much of this was infatuation and how much was real. “So you forgave him?”

“Yeah...I did,” Juntae admitted.

A silence stretched, broken only by the faint hum of the fridge. “You know he likes you back, right?” Sieun said suddenly.

Juntae blinked. “What?”

“I’ve been watching him since the first day you guys studied French," Sieun sipped his water, unfazed. “The guy stares at you like you’re the only person in the room.”

Juntae’s face turned bright red. “Sieun!”

“It’s true,” Sieun said flatly. “So… if you like him, don’t waste your time being mad just because you’re scared.”

Juntae mumbled something under his breath, fiddling with the hem of his hoodie.

“What was that?” Sieun asked.

“I said… I’m not scared.”

Sieun’s expression softened just a little, a rare thing. “Good. Then do something about it.”

Juntae finally opened the fridge just to grab something so he didn’t have to keep looking at Sieun. “...Can I go now?”

“Yeah,” Sieun said, already turning back toward the sink. “But Juntae?”

“What?”

“Don’t let him hurt you again.”

Juntae paused for half a beat, then nodded silently before disappearing down the hall.

Juntae:

Gotak?

Seconds passed. No reply yet. He typed again, more nervously this time.

Juntae:

Can I tell you something? About my type.

His phone buzzed almost instantly.

Gotak:

I’m all ears.

Juntae smiled, fingers trembling slightly as he began.

Juntae:

It’s kind of weird.

I guess my type is... someone who doesn’t back down.

Someone who’s stubborn in a good way.

And who’s not afraid to mess up but still tries anyway.

He paused, biting his lip.

Juntae:

And maybe someone who’d climb through my window at night even if it’s stupid.

A quick reply popped up.

Gotak:

So... me?

Juntae rolled his eyes, but his smile only grew.

Juntae:

Maybe.

Don’t let it go to your head.

But I guess I’m glad you’re you.

Gotak’s last text was a simple.

Gotak:

Me too.

Juntae’s heart swelled in the quiet, and for the first time in days, he felt like maybe this was really happening.

Juntae:

Annoying but somehow... also kind of necessary.

Gotak:

Necessary? Dang, you’re making me blush over text now. You know I don’t do soft, right?

Juntae:

Soft? You’re about as soft as a brick wall. But I guess that’s why I like you.

Gotak:

So, am I the brick wall you want to crash into or the one you hide behind?

Juntae:

Both. And maybe the one I want to lean on when I’m tired.

Gotak:

Damn, you’re getting deep. Should I start preparing a motivational speech or just come over and keep things simple?

Juntae:

Simple sounds better. Maybe you can bring snacks?

Gotak:

Snacks and bad jokes incoming. Brace yourself.

Juntae:

Deal. But don’t forget, you promised to stay all night this time. No more disappearing acts.

Gotak:

No promises. But I’ll try. For you.

The group chat suddenly lit up as Baku’s message popped in, bold and full of hope.

Baku:

Guys… I think I actually have a chance with Baekjin. Like, for real this time.

Suho:

Wait… what? Since when did you get a shot? You can barely say hi without stumbling over your own words.

Gotak:

Haha, Baku’s got jokes now? Are you sure you’re not confusing Baekjin with someone else?

Juntae:

Honestly, Baekjin seems like a whole other league. Heard people have been trying forever to get his attention.

Baku:

Nah, man. Yesterday I actually talked to him. Like, for five minutes straight. And guess what? He laughed at my joke. That’s basically a date, right?

Sieun:

Your joke? Which one? “Why did the chicken cross the road?” or “Oops, I dropped my phone” joke? Because both are terrible.

Baku:

Hey, it was a pun 

A solid pun. You’re all just jealous of my comedic skills.

Suho:

A pun? 

Baku, we love you, but don’t let the crush blind you.

Gotak:

Seriously dude, a pun won’t win Baekjin’s heart.

Juntae:

If you really want to impress him, try talking about something other than jokes. Like actual interests or school stuff.

Baku:

Fine, fine 

But I’m feeling this, guys

Baekjin actually looked at me like I wasn’t invisible yesterday.

Sieun:

Or maybe he was just being polite?

Suho:

Or maybe he was laughing at how desperate you looked

No offense

Baku:

Ouch, Suho 

That hurt 

But whatever I’m not backing down now.

Gotak:

If you actually pull this off, I’ll be impressed.

Juntae:

Keep us updated, Romeo.

Baku:

Prepare yourselves for the magic.

-

The morning air smelled faintly of dew and freshly mowed grass as students swarmed the front entrance of the school, chattering about last night’s homework, weekend plans, and gossip. Baku stood a few feet away from the entrance, his hands stuffed awkwardly in his jacket pockets. His heart hammered in his chest like a drumbeat — this was the moment he’d been psyching himself up for all week.

Baekjin was standing near the edge of the crowd, leaning casually against a low wall, scrolling through his phone with an effortless coolness that made Baku’s palms sweat. His dark hair caught the sunlight, and even from here, Baku could tell the boy didn’t care about any of the chaos around him.

Baku took a deep breath, wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, and started walking over.

Behind him, Suho, Gotak, Juntae, and Sieun had claimed their usual spot near a brick wall, pretending not to stare but clearly glued to the scene.

Baku cleared his throat louder than he intended. “Hey, Baekjin! Morning!”

Baekjin looked up from his phone, eyes cool and assessing. He gave a slight nod, but the smile never reached his lips. “Morning.”

Baku’s chest tightened but he forced a grin. “Uh, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to hang out sometime? Like grab a coffee or just chill after school?”

Baekjin’s gaze flicked back to his phone. His voice was calm but uninterested. “I’m kind of busy. Thanks, though.”

The words hit Baku like a cold splash of water. He blinked, trying to find a response, but nothing came out except a nervous chuckle. “Oh… yeah, no problem.”

From their hiding spot, Suho let out a barely suppressed snort. “Oof. That was rough.”

Gotak leaned in, whispering, “Classic Baekjin move, all ice, no fire.”

Juntae rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost sympathetic. “Don’t let it get to you, Baku. He’s just hard to read.”

Sieun shrugged, smirking. “At least you tried. Most guys wouldn’t even come close.”

Baku’s smile was tight as he watched Baekjin turn and walk away, shoulders relaxed, phone back in hand like the rejection was nothing. The friends around Baekjin laughed and chatted, unaware of the small storm brewing inside Baku.

He glanced over at his friends, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and stubborn hope. “Guess I’ll have to step up my game.”

Suho grinned. “Or just practice not tripping over your words next time.”

Gotak laughed. “Yeah, dude, try not to sound like you’re asking for permission to breathe.”

Juntae nudged Baku’s arm. “Don’t worry, man. We got your back.”

Baku took a deep breath, the sting fading to a dull ache. “Thanks, guys. Next time, I’ll do better. I have to.”

As Baekjin disappeared into the crowd, Baku’s determination hardened. This wasn’t the end — just the start.

“Hey, Sieun,” Suho began casually, voice low but warm. “You know, it’d be nice to hang out sometime. Just us.”

Sieun glanced over, raising an eyebrow but not slowing down. “Hang out? Like what? You don’t strike me as the ‘movie marathon’ type.”

Suho smirked. “You’d be surprised. I’m full of hidden talents. Besides, it’s not about what we do, just a break from all this,” he gestured vaguely at the busy students around them, “and maybe getting to know each other better.”

Sieun’s expression softened a little, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “I don’t usually do the ‘hang out’ thing, you know. Not really my style.”

“Yeah, I figured. But sometimes the best stuff happens when you step out of your comfort zone,” Suho said, voice just a shade more serious now. “Look, no pressure. Just say yes and if you don’t like it, we don’t have to do it again. Easy.”

Sieun stopped walking and finally met Suho’s gaze fully. “Alright, alright. You’re persistent. I’ll give it a shot.”

Suho’s grin widened, a hint of genuine happiness breaking through his usual cool facade. “That’s what I like to hear.”

The rest of the group caught up as Sieun fell back into step. Baku nudged Suho with an amused grin. “See? Told you he’d cave eventually.”

Gotak chuckled quietly. “Maybe you’re not as smooth as you think, but it’s working.”

Juntae smiled quietly, watching the exchange with something like relief. The tension around Sieun seemed to ease as he walked closer to Suho, and the rest of the group fell into an easy rhythm, ready for whatever the day would bring.

Suho was the first from their group to stride in the classroom, choosing a seat near the window — and not-so-coincidentally, saving the one next to him.

Sieun walked in behind him, expression unreadable as always, and paused for a second when he saw where Suho had sat. “You planned that,” he muttered.

Suho tilted his head, feigning innocence. "Planned what? I just like this spot. Good light. Good view.” He tapped the empty chair next to him. “Sit.”

Baku, already dropping into the desk in front of them, snorted. “Subtle as a brick, Suho.”

Gotak and Juntae sat a few rows over, exchanging glances. Gotak leaned forward to whisper, “This is going to be interesting,” and Juntae just rolled his eyes with a small grin.

Reluctantly, Sieun sat down beside Suho, pulling out his notebook. He flipped to a blank page, deliberately ignoring the way Suho leaned closer. "Are you always this stubborn?” Suho said quietly, a lopsided smile on his lips.

“I agreed to hang out, didn’t I? What more do you want?” Sieun replied without looking at him.

“Details,” Suho whispered back. “When. Where. What snacks you like. You know, the essentials.”

At the front, their teacher started the lesson, but Suho seemed determined to keep the conversation going under his breath.

“So… coffee shop? Or do you want something quieter?”

“Are you incapable of staying quiet for one class?” Sieun muttered, eyes still on his notes, but his ears were slightly pink.

“Not when I’m sitting next to you.” That earned him a sideways glare, but Suho just grinned wider, resting his chin on one hand as if the lesson didn’t exist.

Across the room, Baku twisted in his seat to watch, his eyes wide with silent laughter. He mouthed to Gotak, He’s down bad. Gotak tried to stifle a laugh, elbowing Juntae, who whispered back, “This is worse than I thought."

As the teacher droned on, Suho slid a folded piece of paper across Sieun’s desk. Sieun sighed, hesitated, then opened it:

You still haven’t told me your favorite snack. This is critical information if I’m going to impress you.

He stared at the paper for a second, lips twitching despite himself, and scribbled back:

You’re ridiculous.

Suho’s grin only grew as he read the note, scribbling another reply almost instantly:

Yeah, but you smiled. That’s progress.

Sieun rolled his eyes hard enough to make Suho chuckle out loud — loud enough that the teacher glanced over.

“Suho. Sieun. Something you’d like to share with the class?”

“No, sir,” Suho said smoothly, leaning back with a completely unbothered smile.

The teacher’s voice faded into background noise as Suho leaned ever so slightly closer, lowering his voice so only Sieun could hear.

“Okay,” Suho murmured, tapping his pen against his notebook as if he were taking notes. “So we’ve established that you smile. Rare, but it happens. Now, be honest. Did you agree to hang out because you wanted to… or because you wanted to shut me up?”

Sieun’s pencil paused mid-word. “Does it matter?” he whispered back without looking at him.

“It matters to me,” Suho said, his tone softer this time. “If you actually wanted to, that’s… different.”

Sieun inhaled quietly and went back to writing. “Maybe I wanted you to stop talking.”

Suho smirked, leaning closer so his arm brushed Sieun’s. “You know, I’ve been told I can be very quiet. If someone gives me a good reason.”

Sieun gave him a sidelong glance. “Impossible.”

“Try me,” Suho murmured, and for a brief second their eyes met, Suho’s gaze steady and mischievous but with something else under it.

The moment was interrupted by a sharp thunk! — Baku had dropped his pen deliberately on the floor just to crane his head back at them, grin wide. Suho kicked the leg of Baku’s chair lightly, but his grin didn’t falter.

When the teacher turned back to the board, Suho slid another note:

Do you like movies? If yes, I’m not above bribing you with popcorn. Also what’s your type?

Sieun read it, hesitated, then wrote back with deliberate strokes:

You are unbelievably persistent. I  like movies. My type? None of your business.

Suho read that and pressed his lips together to hold back a laugh, scrawling back:

Noted. “None of your business” is now my new competition. Harsh.

Sieun exhaled quietly through his nose, flipping the paper closed. He didn’t notice Suho watching him with an expression that was less teasing this time, just thoughtful.

When the bell finally rang, the room exploded into chatter. Sieun was out of his seat immediately, shoving his notebook into his bag with practiced precision. Suho, naturally, was right on his heels, falling into step with a casual, “So, about that hangout…”

As they left the classroom, Baku followed them like an overly eager fan. That left Gotak and Juntae a few rows back, packing up at a slower pace.

Gotak elbowed Juntae as soon as the door shut behind Suho and Sieun. “You saw that, right?”

Juntae snorted. “Saw it? How could anyone not see it? He’s practically wagging his tail every time Sieun looks in his direction.”

Gotak shook his head, eyes wide. “I didn’t think Suho could look that desperate for attention. It’s kinda scary. Like, he’s not even pretending to be cool anymore.”

Juntae smirked as they walked out. “He’s definitely not playing it smooth. Did you see the way he kept leaning in? At one point I thought he was going to climb into Sieun’s notebook just to stay close.”

“Yeah,” Gotak said, laughing under his breath. “If Suho ever says he’s good at flirting, I’m gonna remind him of today.”

Juntae glanced at him. “What about you? Are you taking notes or something?”

Gotak blinked. “Me?”

“Yeah. Watching all this, you planning on using this kind of ‘strategy’?” Juntae teased, eyes amused.

Gotak looked mock-offended. “No way. If I ever like someone, I’m not gonna make a fool of myself like that.”

Juntae just hummed. “We’ll see.”

They fell into a more relaxed pace as they descended the stairs, both still smirking. But then, after a pause, Juntae added quietly, “Still… he’s trying. I guess that counts for something.”

“True,” Gotak said. “Let’s just hope Sieun doesn’t kill him before the weekend.”

For a while, they walked without talking. Juntae had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, kicking a stray pebble along the sidewalk. Gotak glanced at him a few times before finally breaking the silence.

“You really think Suho has a chance?”

“With Sieun?” Juntae raised an eyebrow. “That depends. Can Suho shut up for more than three minutes?”

Gotak laughed so loudly a few passing kids turned their heads. “You’re so mean. It’s not that bad.”

“It is,” Juntae said, but there was a little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve lived with Sieun my whole life. I know exactly how short his patience is. Suho’s walking a thin line.”

Gotak shook his head. “I think he’s… brave. Kinda stupid, but brave."

Juntae looked at him sideways. “And what about you? Would you ever do that? Like… go all in like Suho?”

Gotak went quiet for a second, staring at the ground. “I dunno. Maybe. If it was worth it.”

“Worth it?”

Gotak nodded. “You know… if you like someone enough to risk looking like an idiot, then yeah. Why not? I’d rather embarrass myself than do nothing.”

Juntae didn’t say anything at first, just listened. The wind ruffled his hair, and for a moment, he looked thoughtful. “That sounds… surprisingly mature, coming from you,” he said at last, half-teasing.

“I have my moments,” Gotak said, grinning. “You should take notes.”

“Maybe,” Juntae said, but then, after a beat: “Still doesn’t mean I’d be okay with you embarrassing yourself.”

Gotak glanced at him, surprised. “You’d stop me?”

“I’d try,” Juntae muttered, kicking the pebble again. “Someone’s gotta keep you from doing something stupid.”

For a second, their eyes met, and there was a strange, unspoken pause—like both of them realized something at the same time. Then Gotak grinned again, easy and wide. “Good to know you care, partner.”

Juntae rolled his eyes, but he didn’t hide the faint smile that had formed. “Don’t push it.”

The walk had been quiet after that, comfortable even. When they reached the gate of the house, Juntae let out a small sigh of relief.

“Finally,” he said, reaching for the latch. “I just wanna lay down for an hour.”

Gotak grinned. “Not even gonna offer me water after I walked you home? Cold, man.”

“Should've tought about that when we passed the convenience store,” Juntae replied without looking back, pushing the gate open.

But the moment they stepped into the yard, the sound of voices floated out from the front porch. Two very familiar voices. Juntae froze mid-step. Gotak blinked and then broke into a wide grin.

“Well, this just got interesting,” Gotak whispered.

Sitting on the porch steps, as casual as if he lived there, was Suho. And standing next to him, holding two plastic bottles of watter, was Sieun.

Suho was mid-sentence, his posture loose, but when he noticed Juntae and Gotak, his face lit up with a grin that looked a little too smug.

“Hey!” Suho waved, leaning back on his hands. “Look who finally made it home. Perfect timing.”

Juntae narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Helping your brother,” Suho said smoothly, as if the answer was obvious.

Sieun, however, looked unimpressed. “You’re not helping. You’re just talking,” he muttered, taking a sip from his watter.

Gotak tried and failed to hold back a laugh. “Wow, Suho, you’re brave. Coming here after school like this?”

“Someone has to make an effort,” Suho shot back. “Unlike some people.”

Juntae, already tired, rubbed his face. “I don’t care. Just don’t drag me into it.”

But Gotak had already plopped himself down on the step next to Suho, grinning like this was the best thing that had happened all week. “So, what exactly are we doing here? Is this a confession stakeout or something?”

Suho gave him a sideways glance. “Not for you, big guy. This is between me and Sieun.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Gotak said, settling in anyway.

Juntae crossed his arms. “Seriously, do I need to tell dad you’re loitering again?”

That got a faint twitch of Sieun’s lips—almost a smile—while Suho immediately straightened. “No need! We were just wrapping up.”

Sieun handed his watter bottle to Juntae without looking at him. “He was waiting for you so I could escape,” Sieun said flatly.

Gotak tilted his head. “You’re not gonna let him off that easy, are you?”

Sieun finally looked at him, calm as always. “If you’re staying, I’m leaving,” he said, and walked inside, leaving Suho with an almost comical look of betrayal.

Gotak snorted. “Ouch. That’s cold.”

Suho groaned, falling back dramatically on the step. “Why is he so difficult?”

“Because he’s Sieun,” Juntae said bluntly.

Suho sat back up, determined. “I’m not giving up. Not when I’ve come this far.”

“Far?” Juntae asked, incredulous.

Gotak, though, just grinned and slapped Suho’s back. “I like your spirit. Keep going. I wanna see how this ends.”

Juntae rolled his eyes, muttering, “This house is cursed."

The front door clicked shut behind Juntae, leaving Suho and Gotak alone on the porch steps.

For a while, the only sound was the creak of the wood under their weight and the faint hum of traffic down the street. Suho dragged both hands down his face and groaned so loud it startled a bird out of a nearby tree.

“Do you see what I’m dealing with?” he finally burst out.

Gotak tilted his head, all innocent curiosity. “Uh-huh. A guy who clearly wants nothing to do with you?”

“Exactly!” Suho said, throwing his hands out, then frowned. “No, wait- that’s not what I meant!”

Gotak grinned, leaning an elbow on his knee. “I’m just saying… you’ve got guts, man. But you’re also, like… what’s the word… delusional.”

“Delusional?” Suho repeated, his voice jumping an octave. “I am persistent. There’s a difference.”

“You sure about that?"

“Yes!” Suho jabbed a finger at him. “You don’t get it, Gotak. Sieun is… he’s…” Gotak raised his brows, waiting. “… infuriating,” Suho admitted, sagging forward. “But also, he’s smart. And calm. And he looks at you like he already knows everything you’re gonna say before you say it. It’s-” He broke off with another groan, burying his face in his hands. “God, this is so annoying.”

Gotak whistled low. “Wow. You’ve got it bad.”

“Shut up,” Suho muttered through his hands.

“No, seriously. That was poetry, man. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Suho straightened and glared at him. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Oh, 100%. This is the best entertainment I’ve had in weeks.” Gotak leaned back, bracing himself on his hands. “So what’s the plan? You just gonna keep showing up like a stray cat until he feeds you?”

Suho ignored the jab and tapped his chin like he was thinking hard. “I need a strategy. Something big. Something that’ll make him stop looking at me like I’m some idiot.”

“Well,” Gotak said casually, “maybe try climbing his window."

Suho shot him a flat look.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Gotak said quickly, holding up his hands. “Kinda. But seriously, you can’t just… force him to like you. He’s stubborn. He’s like a brick wall. You gotta…” He gestured vaguely. “Chip at it, I guess.”

Suho stared out at the street, silent for a moment. “Do you think he actually hates me?”

Gotak snorted. “Nah. If he hated you, he wouldn’t even bother talking. He’d just… leave the room. Like he did just now.”

“…That’s not reassuring.”

“Point is,” Gotak said, “you’ve got a chance. Slim. Like, paper-thin. But it’s there.”

Suho let out a deep breath and stood, brushing off his pants. “Paper-thin is better than nothing. And I am not giving up.”

Gotak grinned. “Good. ‘Cause honestly, this is hilarious to watch.”

Suho gave him a look. “You’re a terrible friend.”

“I’m an excellent audience,” Gotak corrected. “Now go home, lover boy, before their dad comes back and throws a broom at you.”

Suho smirked despite himself, glancing at the door one more time before heading down the steps. “I’ll see you tomorrow. And don’t think I won’t win him over. You’ll see.”

Gotak called after him, laughing, “Yeah, yeah! Just don’t bring flowers to class or something- he’ll actually kill you!”

Suho raised a hand in mock salute without turning back. As he disappeared down the street, Gotak shook his head, still grinning. “This year’s about to get real interesting,” he muttered before getting up to head home himself.

-

Suho:

So. About that hangout you finally agreed to.

Sieun:

…

Suho:

Don’t even think about ghosting me now.

I need details.

Sieun:

I didn’t say I was ghosting you.

Suho:

Then tell me when and where, genius.

Sieun:

When are you even free?

Suho:

Whenever you are.

Sieun:

That’s not an answer.

Suho:

It is when I’m serious.

Come on, just pick.

Sieun:

I don’t know. This weekend?

Suho:

Done.

Sieun:

You didn’t even let me finish.

Suho:

Don’t need to.

Where do you wanna go?

Sieun:

Library.

Suho:

…

Wow.

Out of all the places.

Sieun:

You asked.

Suho:

Okay, okay. Fine. Library date.

Sieun:

It’s not a date.

Suho:

Sure. “Not a date.”

I’ll even bring snacks.

Sieun:

You’re going to get us kicked out.

Suho:

Then I guess you’ll have to shush me

Saturday. 2 pm. Don’t stand me up, Sieun.

Sieun:

We’ll see.

Suho:

Not “we’ll see.”

We’ll be there.

Sieun:

Goodnight.

Suho:

Sweet dreams ;)

The moment the screen goes dark, Suho just… lies there.

Flat on his back, phone balanced on his chest, staring at the ceiling like it just said something profound. “He actually said yes,” he mutters to himself, his voice a little disbelieving.

Then it hits him. “He said yes.”

He sits up, can’t stop the grin stretching across his face. It’s stupid how light his chest feels—like he just hit the jackpot in some invisible lottery. For weeks, he’s been trying to find a way in, and finally, finally, he’s got one.

His thumb scrolls back up the chat. He reads the short, blunt answers again, as if maybe there’s a hidden smile in the way Sieun typed “Library.”

Library.

The least romantic place imaginable. And yet, to Suho, it might as well be a confession.

He falls back onto the pillow, laughing softly into the dark. “He really said library… God, he’s impossible.”

And then the overthinking begins. What if he shows up and Sieun decides halfway through that it was a mistake? What if he gets bored? What if he leaves after five minutes?

“What am I supposed to wear?” Suho says to nobody. “Not like- too much effort. He’ll notice. But not too casual. Has to look like I didn’t care… even though I do.”

He throws the pillow over his face, muffling a groan.

His phone buzzes again and he snatches it up, heart jumping- Only to see it’s Baku sending some dumb meme in their group chat. Suho doesn’t even open it.

Instead, his eyes drift back to that one message:

“We’ll see.”

“‘We’ll see,’ my ass,” he whispers with a grin. “I’m gonna make sure you don’t regret saying yes.”

For the next hour, he just lies there, planning. Planning how to get there early.

How to casually “bump into him” at the door. How to make him laugh, even just once.

And somewhere in the middle of imagining all the ways saturday could go right (and wrong), Suho falls asleep with his phone still clutched in his hand, screen locked on the word Library.

-

Suho gets to school earlier than usual. He’s not even aware of it at first—he’s just walking, earbuds in, head tilted slightly back like the sun feels better today than it did yesterday. There’s a bounce in his step, and the scowl that usually sits on his face is nowhere to be found.

He’s halfway across the courtyard when he hears: “Oi. What’s with the spring in your step?”

Suho pulls out one earbud and finds Baku leaning against a pillar, a half-eaten pastry in one hand, staring at him like he’s grown a second head. “What?” Suho says, deadpan, though the corner of his mouth betrays him and lifts.

“There it is!” Baku points at him with his pastry. “That. That smile. That’s not a normal Suho smile. That’s an ‘I got a text from a certain someone last night’ smile.”

Suho scoffs and tries to walk past, but Baku falls into step beside him, grinning like a shark.

“Spill. Who texted you? Was it Sieun?”

Suho gives him a side-eye so sharp it could cut glass. “How do you even-”

“Oh my god. It was Sieun!” Baku almost drops his pastry, he’s so loud. “I knew it! I knew you were trying to get him to notice you.”

“Keep your voice down, idiot,” Suho mutters, pulling his hoodie up as if that will hide him. “It’s nothing.”

Baku snickers. “Nothing? You look like you just won the lottery. What did he say? Did he confess his undying love?”

Suho shoves him, but it’s half-hearted. “Shut up. He just… agreed to hang out.”

Baku stops walking, dramatically gasping. “He agreed to hang out? Oh no. Oh no no no, this is serious. Our scary Suho is officially whipped.”

“Baku,” Suho warns.

“No, no, I’m happy for you, man!” Baku says, catching up again, his grin stretching ear to ear. “I can’t wait to see you two on your little date.”

“It’s not a date,” Suho says, though his ears burn just saying the word.

“Mhm,” Baku hums, clearly unconvinced. “So what’s the plan? Flowers? Chocolate? Or are you gonna do the whole ‘I just happened to be here’ act? Because, FYI, you suck at pretending.”

Suho shakes his head, lips quirking despite himself. “I don’t need advice from someone who couldn’t even get Baekjin to look at him yesterday.”

Baku clutches his chest, fake offended. “Low blow! But fine, fine. You win, for now. Just don’t screw it up. If he says yes once, that means there’s hope.”

Suho glances away, but his voice softens without him meaning to. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “There’s hope.”

Baku sees it—the way Suho’s expression shifts, softer, unguarded—and for once he doesn’t tease. He just grins and pats him on the shoulder. “Alright, lover boy. Let’s see if you can keep this up without tripping over your own feet.”

-

The cafeteria is a hum of voices, trays clattering, the usual chaos.

Suho doesn’t usually wait for anyone. He grabs food, finds an empty table, and lets Baku or Gotak drag themselves to him. But today...Today, he finds himself slowing down.

Looking over his shoulder. Because he knows Sieun’s somewhere behind them in line.

Baku notices immediately. “You’re acting like you’re about to commit a crime,” he says under his breath. “Relax.”

“I am relaxed,” Suho mutters, gripping his tray so hard the milk carton trembles.

By the time they sit down, Gotak and Juntae are already bickering over who’s supposed to pay them back for borrowed pens, Baku is grinning into his food, and Suho is…

Well, Suho’s trying really hard to look casual.

Which is when Sieun walks into the cafeteria. Suho feels his shoulders tighten, but he doesn’t look up. Doesn’t look. …Okay, he looks.

Sieun scans the room, spots their table, and Suho quickly averts his gaze, staring at his rice like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

“Bro,” Baku whispers, leaning close. “You are so obvious right now it’s painful.”

“Shut it.”

“Do you want me to pull the chair out for him? Should I go get him like a golden retriever?”

Suho kicks Baku under the table. Sieun finally sits down next to Juntae, giving the group a short nod in greeting. “Hi,” he says, calm as always.

“Hey,” Gotak replies, mouth full. Juntae smacks him on the arm for speaking with his mouth full.

Baku leans forward across the table, all grins. “So… Suho’s in a great mood today, huh?”

Suho glares at him. “What are you-”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Juntae says, sipping his drink. “He’s been weird all morning. You sick or something?”

“I’m fine,” Suho says, a little too quickly.

They all stare at him.

Sieun raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything, just takes a bite of his food.

Suho risks a glance in his direction—and the second he catches Sieun’s eye, he looks away again, ears going red.

Gotak notices and smirks. “Ohhh. I get it now.”

“You don’t get anything,” Suho snaps.

“Man, you’re not subtle,” Gotak says. “You’ve been staring holes in the side of his head.”

“I have not.”

“Have too,” Baku adds, laughing. “You look like you’re writing poetry in your mind every time he breathes.”

Suho nearly chokes on his water. “What- shut up!”

Sieun, finally, speaks up. “You’re acting strange,” he says simply, looking right at Suho.

The table goes quiet.For a second, Suho can’t breathe. Then he shrugs, trying for nonchalant. “Maybe I’m just in a good mood.”

Baku mutters under his breath, “Understatement of the year.”

The rest of lunch, Suho barely speaks, afraid that if he opens his mouth, he’ll embarrass himself.

But he keeps sneaking glances—watching Sieun, watching the way the afternoon light catches his hair—and every single time, Baku catches him and smirks.

By the time the bell rings, Suho’s sure everyone at the table knows.

As they leave, Baku whispers: "Dude, if you’re gonna keep acting like this, just confess already. It’s painful to watch.”

Suho shoves him toward the wall, but his ears are burning.

-

The hallway hums with the noise of students heading back to class, lockers slamming and shoes squeaking against the floor.

Juntae walks beside Gotak, clutching his books a little tighter than usual. He keeps glancing sideways at him, at the easy way Gotak walks—hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders loose like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

It hits Juntae suddenly. How long is he going to wait?

After everything with Suho and Sieun at lunch—the way Suho couldn’t even hide how much he liked him—something sparks inside Juntae. If Suho can look that dumb and still try, why can’t he?

“Hey,” Juntae blurts out, a little louder than he means to.

Gotak blinks and turns toward him. “Yeah?”

“Uh…” Juntae swallows. “Can we- can we talk? Like, alone?”

Gotak tilts his head, confused. “Alone? Right now?”

Juntae nods quickly. “Yeah. Just- just for a sec. Before class.”

There’s a pause. Gotak looks surprised, but he doesn’t tease him for it. “Sure. What’s up?”

Juntae steers them toward a quieter corner near the windows, away from the rush of other students. His heart is pounding so loud he’s afraid Gotak will hear it.

The words are right there, sitting on his tongue. I like you. I’ve liked you for a while. And I’m tired of pretending I don’t.

Gotak looks at him expectantly. “You’re acting kinda serious. You okay?”

“I-” Juntae starts, voice catching. His hands tighten on his books. “I just… I’ve been thinking a lot. And there’s something I need to-”

“Yo! Gotak!” The voice cuts through the hallway like a blade.

Both of them turn and see Baekjin, the new student, striding toward them, his uniform still crisp and neat like he stepped out of a magazine. Juntae’s heart sinks all the way to his shoes.

Gotak brightens immediately. “Oh, hey! Baekjin. What’s up?”

Baekjin stops right in front of them, giving Gotak one of those effortless smiles that makes everyone else feel like they’ve been left out of a joke. “I was looking for the science lab. You know where it is?”

Gotak laughs. “Oh, yeah, it’s just two doors down from ours. You’re heading the right way.”

Juntae stands there, stiff, the moment crumbling around him like sand slipping through his fingers.

Baekjin doesn’t even look at him. It’s like he isn’t there. And Gotak—oblivious as ever—starts chatting, walking alongside Baekjin as if Juntae hadn’t just been about to spill his entire heart out.

By the time they reach their classroom door, Juntae’s chest feels tight. He swallows hard, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Never mind,” he says quietly.

Gotak glances back at him. “Huh? Weren’t you gonna tell me something?”

“It’s nothing. I forgot,” Juntae mutters, slipping past them into the classroom.

Gotak hesitates, watching him for a second, puzzled. But then Baekjin says something else, and his attention is dragged away again.

From his desk, Juntae stares at the tabletop, furious at himself for waiting so long. If Suho can be brave, why can’t he?

Why is it so hard to say three stupid words?

And why does Baekjin have to show up at exactly the wrong time?

-

The soft hum of the city filters through the slightly open window, mixing with the faint sound of a clock ticking somewhere down the hall.

Juntae sits at the kitchen table, twisting a spoon between his fingers nervously. His dad stands nearby, finishing up dinner dishes, the routine clinking of plates filling the quiet space.

“Dad,” Juntae starts, voice low, careful. He watches his dad’s back, waiting for a pause.

His dad sets down the plate, wipes his hands on a towel, and turns around. “What is it, son?”

Juntae swallows, fiddling with the edge of the tablecloth. “I wanted to ask you… about dating. Like, if it’s okay for me to start going out with someone.”

His dad raises an eyebrow, folding his arms. “You mean… seeing someone seriously? Having a girlfriend?”

Juntae nods. “Yeah. I mean, there’s this person I like.”

His dad’s expression shifts, serious now. “Hmm. And what about school? Your grades? Your responsibilities?”

Juntae straightens, a little defensive. “I’m managing. And it’s not like I want to do anything crazy. Just… spend time with someone.”

His dad sighs, leaning against the counter. “I get it, son. But you know how I feel about all this. I’m not going to say no just because I want to control your life. But-" He points a finger, firm but not harsh. “You’re not allowed to date until Sieun does.”

“What? That’s not fair!” His voice rises, sharp and frustrated. “Why does it matter what Sieun does? I’m not Sieun. I don’t see why my life depends on his choices.”

His dad shrugs, trying to stay calm. “I just want to make sure you’re both ready. It’s about balance, responsibility.”

Juntae stands up abruptly, pacing. “Balance? Responsibility? I’m not a kid anymore! You can’t control everything I do!” He stops, glaring at his dad. “This isn’t some stupid game. It’s my life, my feelings. I don’t want to wait around because of some weird ‘family pact.’”

His dad meets his gaze, unflinching but softening. “I get that you’re upset. But this isn’t about control, it’s about protecting you.”

Juntae scoffs, shaking his head. "Protecting me by telling me who I can or can’t date? That’s not protection. That’s suffocation.” He grabs his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. "I’m not waiting on anyone. Especially not Sieun.”

His dad sighs, but doesn’t stop him. “Think about what I said. It’s because I care.”

Juntae pauses at the door, back still turned. “Yeah, well… caring doesn’t feel like this.” He walks out, slamming the door behind him.

Juntae:

You ever feel like your own house is a prison?

The reply comes quicker than he expects.

Gotak:

what happened??

u good??

Juntae:

No.

My dad just told me I can’t date.

At all.

Gotak:

…what??

like ever??

Juntae:

Until Sieun does.

Like it’s a rule or something.

Do you know how STUPID that is??

Gotak:

ok yeah

that’s messed up

Juntae:

I swear, sometimes it feels like I’m never allowed to do anything for myself.

Everything depends on someone else first.

He pauses, staring at the three dots as Gotak types.

Gotak:

that sucks man

seriously

what are u gonna do?

Juntae:

Nothing I guess.

There’s nothing I CAN do.

Gotak:

…you sound really mad

want me to come kidnap u?

Juntae:

What??

Gotak:

i mean

sneak you out, let you yell about how unfair your dad is

maybe throw rocks at the sky or smth

A tiny laugh escapes Juntae despite himself. His thumbs slow down on the screen.

Juntae:

You’re an idiot.

Gotak:

yeah

but at least I’m a supportive idiot

Juntae:

…

Thanks.

Gotak:

anytime

seriously tho

don’t let him get to you too much

I got your back

Juntae stares at the message longer than he should, the anger in his chest softening just slightly. He puts the phone down beside him, sighs, and stares up at the ceiling, his head still spinning.

-

Gotak throws his phone onto the bed, runs both hands through his hair, and mutters under his breath.

"Man… what kind of dad makes a rule like that? No wonder he’s so pissed."

He picks the phone back up, opens another chat—Suho’s—and types before he can think too hard about it.

Gotak:

bro. emergency.

Suho:

??

what did you do this time

Gotak:

not me.

juntae’s dad.

you need to date sieun. ASAP.

Suho:

…excuse me

Gotak:

IM SERIOUS

he just told me he’s not allowed to date until sieun does

like it’s an actual rule

this is a crisis

Suho:

oh.

Gotak:

“oh”?? THAT’S ALL YOU GOT??

Suho:

hold on

are you telling me that if I make sieun my boyfriend

then your love life is saved

Gotak:

YES

exactly

There’s a long pause. Gotak stares at the screen like it can speed up Suho’s typing.

Suho:

good news

that was already the plan

Gotak:

bro.

you need to hurry.

like i mean tomorrow.

Suho:

you think I can just snap my fingers and sieun falls for me??

Gotak:

don’t you like him?

figure it out.

you’re suho. you make things happen.

Suho:

…you’re awfully pushy for someone who’s not the one putting his heart on the line

Gotak:

hey

I’m putting MY heart on the line every time I look at juntae ok

help a brother out

Suho:

fine

I’ll think of something

but if I crash and burn, I’m blaming you

Gotak:

deal.

just. do it fast.

I can’t stand seeing him upset

Suho:

…got it.

Gotak exhales, flops back on his bed, and stares at the ceiling. "Alright Suho… don’t mess this up."

-

The morning air is sharp, carrying a buzz of nerves through Suho’s veins. Gotak’s late-night text is still burned into his mind:

"you need to date sieun. ASAP."

Suho adjusts his bag strap and tries to look casual as he waits by the gate. Inside, he’s not casual at all. Inside, there’s a plan. Kind of.

Gotak and Juntae approach first.

Gotak gives him a look, a silent “you better be doing something,” and Suho answers with the tiniest nod. Juntae doesn’t even notice; he’s busy kicking at a loose stone on the pavement, distracted.

Suho’s eyes dart around for Sieun.

And then—there he is. Walking alone, earbuds in, looking completely uninterested in the world.

Okay, Suho. This is your chance. Don’t think. Just move.

He steps away from the gate, intercepting Sieun before he reaches the doors.

“Morning.”

Sieun blinks, pulling out one earbud. “...Hi?”

“Walk with me,” Suho says, already matching his stride.

Sieun raises a brow but doesn’t stop him. “You know we’re both already walking to the same building, right?”

“Exactly. Perfect teamwork.”

Behind them, Gotak mumbles under his breath. He’s doing it.

“So. I heard something last night.”

Sieun glances at him, skeptical. “What?”

“That there’s a party rule in your house. No dating for Juntae until you… you know.”

Sieun’s expression tightens. “Who told you that?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Suho says quickly, holding his hands up. “Point is, I think that’s pretty unfair. Makes it sound like you’re holding him hostage.”

Sieun sighs. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

Suho takes a breath, feeling that window Gotak begged for. “Well… if that’s how it works,” he says, tilting his head, “then maybe I should do something about it. You know. For Juntae.”

Sieun stops mid-step. “Do something like what?”

“Like… take you out sometime,” Suho says, dead serious. “Then he’s free. Win-win.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Students squeeze past them in the hallway, the noise of chatter fading for a moment.

Sieun stares at him, trying to read if he’s joking. "…You’re insane,” Sieun finally mutters, starting to walk again.

Suho grins and falls back into step. “Yeah. But I’m serious.”

Behind them, at a distance, Gotak elbows Juntae softly. “See? Under control.”

Juntae just rolls his eyes, muttering, “If you say so…”

Suho, meanwhile, keeps talking, low and persistent. “Think about it. That hangout on saturday? Let's treat it like a date.”

Sieun shakes his head. “You’re relentless.”

“Relentless works,” Suho says with a shrug. “You’ll see.”

They head into class—Gotak, from his seat, looks back and mouths at Suho: ASAP.

Chapter Text

The library is unusually quiet for a saturday, the kind of stillness where the hum of fluorescent lights seems louder than whispers.

Sieun steps inside with a book under his arm, scanning the rows of tables.

Suho is sitting at a table tucked into the back corner, phone in hand but clearly not looking at it. The second their eyes meet, he straightens up, like he’s been waiting all morning.

“You’re early,” Sieun says, pulling out a chair across from him.

Suho smiles. “And you came.”

“That was the deal,” Sieun mutters, sliding into the chair and taking out his book.

For the first fifteen minutes, there’s no conversation. Just pages turning and the sound of someone typing two tables over. Suho watches him occasionally, trying to focus on his own book but failing.

Finally, Suho leans forward, resting his chin on his folded arms. “You read really fast.”

Sieun doesn’t look up. “That’s how reading works.”

“Yeah, but you read like seriously. How many books do you finish in a week?”

“…Depends,” Sieun says flatly, but there’s the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

They lapse into silence again, but Suho isn’t done. “Okay, but let me ask you something,” Suho whispers, leaning a little closer. “If you had to choose between books and music—what’s your favorite escape?”

That gets Sieun to look up. His eyes narrow, studying Suho. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Because I want to know,” Suho says easily.

“…Music,” Sieun admits, after a beat. “It’s quieter.”

“That’s ironic, but I get what you mean,” Suho says, grinning.

After another stretch of silence, Suho slides a piece of paper across the table. A note, folded in half.

Sieun raises an eyebrow. “What is this?”

“Library rules,” Suho whispers, pretending to look innocent.

Suspicious, Sieun unfolds it. Inside is a single sentence, scrawled in Suho’s handwriting:

If you could be anywhere else right now, where would you be?

Sieun glances at him. “You could’ve just asked,” he says.

“But this way is more fun,” Suho says, taking his pen and tapping the paper like he’s waiting. With an exaggerated sigh, Sieun writes: 

Somewhere quiet.

Suho laughs under his breath. “This place is already dead silent.”

“You don’t count as silent,” Sieun replies, pushing the note back.

For the next hour, they exchange little notes like that between the pages of their books. Suho’s handwriting gets sloppier with each one, his comments turning into teasing lines:

• Favorite movie?

• Do you ever laugh?

• You know you like me, right? (to which Sieun just scribbles a single question mark)

It’s not loud, but there’s an energy at their table now.

At one point, Suho rests his arms on the table, watching Sieun with an almost lazy focus. “You know,” Suho says softly, “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. You seem like someone who doesn’t waste time on things you don’t like.”

“And you think this is a waste of time?” Sieun asks.

Suho shakes his head. “Not at all. Honestly, this is my favorite saturday in a while.”

Sieun blinks, caught off guard. “…You’re strange.”

“Persistent,” Suho corrects, grinning.

The librarian coughs somewhere nearby, a pointed reminder to keep it down. Suho leans back, hands up in mock surrender, but his grin doesn’t fade.

By the time the sun begins to sink lower, golden light spilling across the table, Sieun realizes he hasn’t turned a page in fifteen minutes. Suho notices too. “See?” Suho whispers. “Told you I’d make it worth your time.”

Sieun stares at him for a moment, then goes back to his book without a word. But the faintest, smallest smile plays at his lips.

And for Suho, that’s a victory.

The late afternoon air is cool when they step out of the library, the sky dipped in gold and pale pink.

Suho falls into step beside Sieun, hands in his pockets. “You know,” Suho says casually, “I thought you were going to run off the second we left the building.”

“Why would I do that?” Sieun glances at him, suspicious.

“Because that’s kind of your thing,” Suho says, smirking. “Avoiding people. Especially me.”

Sieun rolls his eyes. “You talk too much.”

“And you like it,” Suho shoots back, without hesitation.

They walk in silence for a bit, the sound of their shoes on the pavement filling the quiet. “You hungry?” Suho asks suddenly.

“No.”

“Liar. You’ve been sitting there all day without food.”

“I said no,” Sieun repeats, eyes fixed ahead.

Suho grins. “Fine, fine. Another time then.”

At the next intersection, Sieun slows. “You don’t have to walk me home,” he says.

“I know,” Suho says easily, falling in line with his pace. “But I want to."

“…You’re impossible,” Sieun mutters.

“And you’re still walking next to me,” Suho points out.

For once, Sieun doesn’t have a comeback.

They reach the corner near Sieun’s street. He finally stops and turns to Suho. “This is close enough,” Sieun says.

Suho tilts his head. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” Suho gives a little mock bow, taking a step back. “Thanks for today, Sieun.”

Sieun blinks. “…For what?”

“For not running away,” Suho says with a grin, then turns and strolls off, hands in pockets, leaving Sieun standing there with a faint frown.

-

The front door clicks open quietly, almost like Sieun hopes to slip in unnoticed.

But the TV is on in the living room, and his dad’s voice carries before Sieun can make it up the stairs.

“Sieun?”

He freezes with one shoe half-off, jaw tightening. Slowly, he steps into view. His dad is on the couch, arms crossed, the light of the TV flickering across his face. Juntae is sitting on the rug, a half-open bag of snacks next to him.

“Where were you?” their dad asks. Calm tone. Not angry. Just expectant.

Sieun shrugs out of his jacket, careful not to meet either of their eyes. “The library.”

“This late?”

“Yes,” he says flatly, kicking off his shoes.

Juntae tilts his head. “By yourself?”

Sieun’s head snaps toward him, sharp. “Why? You keeping track of me now?”

Juntae blinks, caught off guard. “I was just asking-”

“You don’t need to ask,” Sieun cuts in.

Their dad raises an eyebrow. “Watch your tone, Sieun.”

“I’m fine,” Sieun says, turning away. “You don’t have to check up on me every second. I can take care of myself.”

No one speaks for a beat. The TV hums in the background, a dull laugh track. “You know that’s not why I’m asking,” their dad says finally. “It’s late. I just want to know where you are. That’s all.”

Sieun’s hands ball into fists at his sides. “I told you. The library. Do you want me to take pictures next time? Is that what you want?”

Juntae glances between them, uneasy. He knows that tone. That tension.

“Sieun…” he tries, softer this time, “we’re just worried, that’s all. You don’t usually go out.”

“And I can’t?”

“That’s not what I said-”

Sieun takes a sharp breath through his nose, then heads for the stairs. “I don’t need you two acting like I can’t handle myself. I was fine before, and I’m fine now.”

Halfway up, their dad’s voice follows: “We’re not your enemies, Sieun.”

He stops, one hand on the railing, but doesn’t turn around. “I never said you were,” he mutters. Then he disappears upstairs, his door shutting a little too firmly behind him.

He doesn’t bother turning on the light—he just lets himself fall forward, face-first, onto the bed.

The muffled world through the pillow feels safer. Quieter.

But his heart won’t slow down.

Every word replaying in his head, every look from his dad, every worried glance from Juntae. Like they’re all waiting for him to break. Why does it bother him so much?

Because tonight wasn’t like the other nights.

Tonight wasn’t just about the library.

It was Suho. The way he smiled, leaning across the table like it was the easiest thing in the world to look at him. The way his voice dropped whenever he said something that felt… just for him.

And now? Now his entire family thinks he’s lying about where he was, like that part of his life is some kind of crime.

Sieun flips over and stares at the ceiling, one arm draped over his eyes. The ceiling feels safer than thinking about the heat that creeps up his neck when he remembers Suho joking,

"What, is this our first date or something?"

He presses the heel of his palm against his face, hard.

This is ridiculous. It’s not a date. It can’t be a date.

From downstairs, faintly, he can still hear the muted sound of the TV and his dad’s voice talking low to Juntae.

And he hates—hates—how heavy the guilt feels in his chest, even as the corner of his lips betrays him with the smallest curve at the thought of Suho’s stupid grin.

His phone is on the desk, screen dark. He stares at it like it’s a trap.

Texting first is not something he does. His thumb hesitates before unlocking it. The group chat notifications with Juntae and their dad blink like an accusation, but he swipes them away without opening.

Instead, he opens Suho’s contact. The empty thread stares back at him. For someone so persistent, Suho never texts first unless Sieun does.

The cursor blinks at the bottom of the screen. He types: "Thanks for today."

Deletes that. His leg bounces restlessly. He exhales sharply and finally writes: "You made me late for dinner."

He hesitates, debating if it’s too sharp, but his finger hits send before he can second-guess.

The reply comes faster than he expects.

Suho:

worth it though?

Sieun’s lips press together, trying not to smile, but his fingers betray him.

Sieun:

No. Don’t make it a habit.

Suho:

can’t promise that

does that mean there’ll be a next time?

Sieun freezes, thumb hovering over the keyboard. His chest feels tight, like the air is too heavy.

Sieun:

Go to sleep.

And turns off the phone, placing it face down on the desk, trying to ignore how his heart won’t calm down.

Juntae knocks lightly. “Sieun?”

A pause. Then, muffled, “What?”

“Can I come in?”

Another pause, a sigh. “...Fine.”

Juntae steps inside and closes the door behind him.

Sieun’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, phone facedown beside him, staring at the wall like it’s personally offended him.

“You okay?” Juntae asks, flopping down on the floor, resting his chin on his arms over the edge of the bed.

“I’m fine,” Sieun says automatically, but it’s flat.

“No, you’re not. You’ve been weird since you came home.”

Sieun runs a hand through his hair, slow and frustrated. “It’s nothing serious. Just… weird.”

Juntae tilts his head. “Weird how?”

Sieun stays silent for a moment, then exhales. “You know Suho?”

Juntae blinks. “Obviously. He’s basically adopted himself into our lives.”

“That’s the problem,” Sieun says. His voice drops, like he’s admitting something to himself as much as to Juntae. “When he’s around… it’s like I can’t think straight. Everything feels… loud. And I don’t like it. Or- I don’t know if I like it. It’s just- ” He breaks off, frowning at his hands.

Juntae watches, wide-eyed. “You mean, like… nervous?”

Sieun’s mouth opens, closes. He looks away. “Maybe. It’s not normal.”

Juntae tries to hide a grin, failing miserably. "Sieun, that’s not bad weird. That’s- ”

“Don’t,” Sieun warns sharply, eyes narrowing.

“I’m just saying!” Juntae throws his hands up in mock defense. “I’ve seen you ignore everyone else, but when Suho shows up, suddenly you can’t ignore him. You’re always listening, even when you pretend you’re not.”

Sieun mutters, “That’s because he’s loud.”

“Loud and…” Juntae teases, leaning in.

Sieun glares. “Finish that sentence and I’ll kick you out of my room." But after a moment, his expression softens, the faintest crease between his brows. “I just… don’t know what to do with it,” he admits quietly. “I don’t want to be distracted by someone like that.”

Juntae sits back, sensing for once that teasing won’t help. “Well… maybe don’t think too hard about it yet. It’s not like you have to figure it all out tonight.”

Sieun hums, but doesn’t respond.

Juntae grins anyway, getting up. “Still. For the record? I think it’s kinda cute.”

“Get out,” Sieun says, grabbing a pillow and half-heartedly throwing it at him.

Juntae shuts Sieun’s door softly behind him and pads down the hallway to his own room, a grin spreading across his face the moment he’s out of earshot.

He drops onto his bed, grabs his phone, and immediately opens his chat with Gotak.

Juntae:

bro. sieun's in trouble

A few seconds later, the typing bubble appears.

Gotak:

???

what happened

Juntae:

suho happened

he’s acting so weird bc of him it’s actually funny

Gotak:

weird like??

Juntae:

like he said suho makes him feel “loud”

loud gotak. loud. when has sieun EVER said someone makes him feel anything

i thought he was gonna combust

Gotak leaves him on read for a beat. Then:

Gotak:

LMFAOOO NO WAY

suho’s already halfway there huh

Juntae:

yeah. sieun tried to deny it but it’s so obvious

i think he might actually like him

Gotak:

good

means u can date whenever he gets his act together

Juntae stares at the text for a second, then rolls his eyes.

Juntae:

wow so that’s ur priority huh

Gotak:

obviously

-

It’s Sunday afternoon, the sunlight spilling warm and lazy across Juntae’s desk. He’s sitting cross‑legged on his bed, phone in hand, staring at the chat window with Gotak open.

The cursor blinks at him like it knows he’s stalling.

He types. Deletes. Types again. Deletes again.

“Why is this harder than confessing?” he mutters to himself, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

Finally, with a groan, he presses record and sends a voice message instead.The audio is short and awkward, his voice a mix of casual and nervous: “Hey… uh. I’m thinking about baking something later and do you wanna come over? Could use an extra pair of hands. You’re strong, right?”

The second he hits send, he flops back on the bed and stares at the ceiling, regretting every word.

His phone buzzes after what feels like an eternity.

Gotak:

baking?

like actual baking?

Juntae:

yes??? like cookies. brownies. whatever.

do you want to or not

A pause. Then:

Gotak:

i mean yeah. but full disclosure i have zero baking skills

i’ll eat whatever tho

Juntae:

fine. i’ll handle the skills, you handle carrying the bags of flour

Gotak:

deal.

what time

Juntae:

come by in an hour. bring yourself. not your appetite. yet.

Gotak:

too late i’m starving already

The hour crawls by slower than any class they’ve ever sat through.

When the doorbell finally rings, Juntae rushes downstairs before Sieun or their dad can get there first. Gotak’s standing outside, hoodie zipped up despite the mild weather, his hair a little messy like he ran here.

“Yo,” Gotak says, holding up a small bag of chocolate chips like a peace offering. “Thought these might help.”

Juntae raises an eyebrow, fighting a smile. “You actually brought something useful.”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” Gotak says, stepping inside.

The kitchen counter looked like a battlefield before they even started: bags of flour, sugar, butter softening in a bowl, and a mixing whisk that was clearly about to become a weapon in Gotak’s hands.

Juntae tied his apron tightly, then tossed the other one at Gotak. “Wear this,” he ordered.

Gotak held it up, squinting. “You know I don’t do aprons.”

“You also don’t do clean clothes after baking,” Juntae shot back. “Put it on, or I’ll tie it for you.”

“Threatening me now, huh?” Gotak grinned and reluctantly looped it around his neck, fumbling with the straps. “How do you even- ”

Juntae sighed, stepped closer, and with a few quick tugs knotted it behind his back. For a second, Gotak froze at how close they were, but Juntae had already moved away to grab a bowl.

“First step,” Juntae said, reading the recipe. “Two cups of flour.”

Gotak scooped with a flourish that made Juntae’s eye twitch. A puff of flour exploded into the air like smoke.

“Gotak!” Juntae’s voice cracked as white powder settled on the counter, the floor, and the front of Gotak’s hoodie.

Gotak burst out laughing. “It’s snowing in here!”

“Do it slowly,” Juntae hissed, grabbing the cup from him and demonstrating how to level it. “Like this. Not like you’re throwing a grenade.”

Gotak leaned on the counter, chin in his hand, watching every precise move. “You look like a pro.”

“That’s because I am,” Juntae muttered, measuring sugar next. “Cream the butter.”

“Cream?” Gotak raised an eyebrow. “Like… massage?”

“No! Mix it until it’s soft. Give me the whisk.”

Gotak grabbed the whisk but instead of stirring, he pretended to play drums on the bowl, making loud clanking noises. Juntae slapped his hand lightly. “Seriously?”

“Alright, alright,” Gotak said, laughing as he finally started mixing.

Ten minutes later, they were a mess. Gotak’s apron was streaked with flour handprints. Juntae had a faint smudge of chocolate on his cheek he didn’t notice.

“Okay,” Juntae said, “add the eggs—carefully.”

Gotak cracked the first one perfectly. The second one… not so much. The shell shattered, bits dropping into the bowl.

“Don’t- don’t fish it out with your fingers!” Juntae yelped, rushing in to scoop the pieces with a spoon. “Are you trying to poison us?”

“You worry too much,” Gotak teased. “It’s extra crunch.”

“You’re impossible,” Juntae grumbled.

“And yet, here you are, asking me to help,” Gotak said, smirking.

Finally, after folding in the chocolate chips, they began spooning dough onto the tray.

Gotak’s cookies were huge and uneven; Juntae’s were neat little circles.

“You’re such a perfectionist,” Gotak said, leaning close to compare their trays.

“Yours look like they’re auditioning for a horror movie.”

“Yeah, well, people like personality,” Gotak said, proudly holding up a lumpy blob.

As the cookies baked, the smell filled the kitchen—sweet and warm.

While waiting, Gotak perched on the counter, swinging his legs, watching Juntae clean up.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, “this is actually kinda fun.”

“Cleaning?” Juntae asked dryly.

“No. This.” Gotak gestured around the kitchen. “You and me. Feels… I dunno. Chill.”

Juntae paused, his hands still on the sponge, not trusting himself to look up. “…You’re weird.”

“I’m serious,” Gotak said, grinning, leaning back on his hands. “I could do this every weekend.”

The timer beeped. Juntae pulled out the tray, setting it down. The cookies were golden brown, steam curling up.

Gotak reached for one immediately. “They’re hot!” Juntae smacked his hand.

“I like living dangerously,” Gotak said, snatching one anyway and juggling it between his palms. “Ow- worth it.”

The kitchen was still warm from the oven, the smell of cookies heavy in the air.

Gotak was perched on the counter, holding a cookie in one hand, when footsteps came down the hall.

The door creaked open.

Sieun froze at the sight: Gotak sitting there with an apron half off, flour streaked on his hoodie, and Juntae standing in front of him with a tray of cookies like this was their own private bakery.

“…What is going on here?” Sieun said flatly.

Juntae whipped his head around, cheeks heating up. “Nothing! We were just… baking.”

“Baking,” Sieun repeated, stepping inside. His eyes scanned the flour on the counter, the smudges on both of them, and then back to Gotak, who was smirking like a cat caught in the act.

“You two look like you lost a fight with a bag of flour.”

Gotak grinned, shameless. “We kinda did. Want a cookie?”

Sieun raised an eyebrow. “No thanks. I’m not trying to eat whatever this chaos turned into.”

Juntae groaned. “They’re fine, Sieun. And stop looking at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” Sieun said, crossing his arms. “It just… feels like I walked in on a date.”

That made Juntae choke on air. “It’s NOT a date!”

Gotak, ever unbothered, just said, “Could be.”

“Gotak!” Juntae’s voice cracked. His ears burned red as Sieun turned to leave with an infuriatingly knowing smirk.

“Have fun, lovebirds,” Sieun called over his shoulder, shutting the door behind him.

Juntae stood there, arms folded, glaring at the closed door. “I hate him.”

Gotak was still laughing softly. “He’s not wrong, though.”

Juntae snapped his head toward him. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean…” Gotak shrugged casually, biting into another cookie. “I’d pick baking with you over any party. You know that, right?”

The words caught Juntae off guard. Something about the tone—so simple, so genuine—made his heart do an uncomfortable flip.

Juntae busied himself with stacking the cookies. “…You just say stuff like that without thinking, don’t you?”

“Not always,” Gotak said. He leaned forward slightly, eyes locked on Juntae. “This one I meant.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them. The only sound was the cooling cookies and their own breathing. Juntae swallowed hard, staring down at the tray. He could feel the words clawing at his throat, desperate to get out.

“Gotak, I…” He glanced up at him, only to be met with that warm grin, and his courage evaporated in an instant. “Forget it.”

Gotak tilted his head. “Huh?”

“Nothing!” Juntae said quickly, grabbing a cookie and shoving it into his mouth to shut himself up.

Gotak chuckled softly, letting it go. “You’re weird, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Juntae muttered under his breath, “and you make it worse.”

Gotak leaned back, still smiling, unaware of how close Juntae had been to saying something more.

The sky outside had already dimmed into a navy wash by the time Gotak and Juntae ended up in the living room.

The kitchen was clean now, cookies stacked neatly on a plate, but somehow the smell still clung to them both.

They sat on the floor in front of the couch, a movie playing low on the TV. It wasn’t really about the movie—they were both half-watching, half just sitting there in the glow of the screen.

Juntae hugged a pillow to his chest, knees pulled up. Gotak sat beside him, stretching his long legs out, leaning back like he owned the place. “Why are you sitting like an old man?” Juntae asked after a while, eyes flicking to him.

Gotak didn’t move. “This is comfortable. You should try it.”

“No thanks,” Juntae mumbled, clutching his pillow tighter. “And don’t get crumbs on the floor. You’ve eaten like, five cookies already.”

“Six,” Gotak corrected, a faint grin playing on his lips. “They’re good. You’re better at baking than I thought.”

That made Juntae blink. “…You thought I’d be bad at it?”

“I thought you’d be… neat. Like, too careful. But you kinda went for it.”

Juntae turned his head toward him, frowning. “You’re terrible at compliments, you know that?”

Gotak shrugged, unapologetic. “I’m trying. I said I liked them.”

The words were casual, but something in Gotak’s tone made Juntae’s chest warm up uncomfortably.

A quiet moment passed. On the TV, the characters laughed. The sound filled the space where Juntae’s reply should’ve been.

Gotak noticed. “You’re quiet,” he said, leaning slightly closer to peek at his face.

Juntae looked away quickly. “I’m watching.”

“You’re lying,” Gotak said easily. “You do that thing where you bite the inside of your cheek when you’re trying not to say something.”

Juntae whipped his head toward him. “I do not!”

“You do,” Gotak said, amused. “Like, right now.”

Juntae wanted to deny it, but the heat crawling up his neck betrayed him. “…Why do you pay that much attention to me?”

Gotak blinked at the question, caught off guard. Then, without hesitation, he said, “Because you’re interesting.”

That simple answer sat between them, heavy and warm.

Juntae opened his mouth, then closed it again. “You can’t just say stuff like that,” he muttered, looking away.

Gotak grinned, leaning back on his hands. “Why not? It’s true.”

Juntae pulled the pillow tighter against his chest, heart beating way too fast for him to even pretend he was focusing on the movie anymore.

The low hum of static menu music filled the room, blending with the faint smell of sugar from the kitchen.

For a long time, neither spoke. Then, out of nowhere, Gotak asked quietly, “Do you ever think about… what you want? Like, later?”

Juntae tilted his head, thrown by the question. “…Later, like in the future?”

“Yeah,” Gotak said, staring at the floor like he was picking his words. “Like… after all this. After school. When you don’t have to think about fights or grades or people telling you what to do.”

Juntae frowned a little. He’d never heard Gotak sound this serious. “…I guess I just want to be somewhere quiet,” Juntae said after a moment. “Somewhere I don’t have to be scared of messing things up all the time.” Gotak glanced at him, but didn’t interrupt. “And I want people around who… actually want to be around me,” Juntae added, softer. “Not because they have to. Just because they want to.”

The room went still after that, as if the words settled into the walls.

Gotak shifted, leaning forward, his voice quieter than usual. "That’s… actually a good answer.”

Juntae blinked, surprised by the sincerity. “…What about you?”

For a long while, Gotak didn’t answer. His hands curled loosely over his knees, knuckles tense. “I think I just…” He stopped, let out a breath. “I just don’t want to be like the people I grew up around. You know? I don’t wanna be that guy everyone avoids because they think he’ll just hurt them.”

His voice cracked at the end. Not enough to be obvious, but enough that Juntae noticed.

“Gotak..."

“I don’t want people to be scared of me,” Gotak said quickly, looking down. “I want someone to look at me and not see… all the crap I’ve done. I want someone to think I’m good. Even if I’m not.”

Juntae’s hands tightened on the pillow. “You’re not bad,” Juntae said quietly.

Gotak looked up at him, startled.

“You’re not,” Juntae repeated. “You’re… you try harder than anyone I know. That has to count for something, right?”

Gotak stared at him like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to believe that.

And then, softer than Juntae had ever heard from him, he whispered, “…Thanks.”

The way he said it—like nobody had told him that before—made Juntae’s chest ache.

The silence sat between them like something sacred. It was a moment that probably could’ve lasted forever—if not for the sudden, loud growl from Gotak’s stomach.

Juntae blinked. “…Was that you?”

Gotak looked horrified, like his own body had betrayed him. “No. That was- uh- probably the TV.”

“The TV doesn’t sound like it’s starving,” Juntae deadpanned, lips twitching.

Gotak groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “I was trying to be all deep and dramatic, and my stomach just ruins it…”

Juntae burst out laughing. “You should’ve eaten more cookies while you had the chance!”

“You hoarded them!” Gotak shot back, pointing accusingly.

“I was supervising!”

“You ate like ten!”

“That was quality control,” Juntae argued, laughing so hard he had to hug the pillow tighter to stay upright.

Seeing him laugh like that made Gotak grin despite himself, his ears red.

Then Juntae glanced toward the kitchen. “Fine. Since you’re about to starve, I’ll make us something- ”

“No,” Gotak said quickly, standing up with sudden determination. “I’m making you something. Redemption dinner. Or redemption late-night snack. Whatever.”

“You? Cooking?”

“Yeah. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Five minutes later, the worst happened. Smoke curled out of the toaster oven as Gotak frantically fanned it with a towel, coughing. “Why did the garlic bread catch on fire?!”

Juntae was doubled over laughing in the doorway. “Because you forgot to take the plastic wrapping off, genius!”

Gotak turned, hair messy, face full of indignation. “Shut up! This is a hostile environment for a chef!”

“Chef? You literally set bread on fire!” Still laughing, Juntae grabbed the towel out of his hands before the smoke alarm went off.

“I’m making instant ramen. Sit down before you burn the whole kitchen.”

Gotak sat back down, muttering under his breath, but the corners of his mouth were twitching.

And as Juntae stirred the noodles, Gotak realized something: for the first time since the party, the weight between them felt lighter.