Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sunoo sat by the window, enjoying the view. I think I've perfected the art of invisibility, he thought to himself.

Suddenly, his daydreaming got crushed when some boy who was messing around with his friends fell on him. Sunoo groaned in pain.

"I'm sorry, I didn't notice you there!" The boy apologized and walked away laughing with his friends. Sunoo just sighed in despair. 

Oh, looks like it's not perfect yet huh?

He looked around the classroom. Some of the girls were gossiping and snickering. Some were touching up their makeup. 

Then he looked at the boys. Some boys were talking about their favourite games and some were eating like they starved for days.

The point is, they've all got friends. 

And there was Kim Sunoo. The lonely Kim Sunoo. Abandoned at a young age by his parents, the boy lived with his grandmother until she passed away when he was 11. 

He then lived alone in a small apartment and had been late with his rent payment for 3 months now. 

Exhausted with the nonstop part time jobs, Sunoo was like a walking corpse going through his days. 

___

"Sunoo, read the text we're currently at," the teacher instructed Sunoo. He looked around the classroom, confused. 

The teacher sighed, "of course you wouldn't know what text because you've been sleeping! I want you to stand up until my lesson is over." Sunoo hesitantly stood up and shifted his gaze towards the window next to him.

He didn't really care if his classmates talked shit about him, he was used to it. Although it was partly his fault for not paying attention in class. 

The bell rang and the teacher gave the class some homework. He looked towards Sunoo. "Meet me after school," said the teacher before walking out of the class. 

Sunoo heaved a sigh and sat down. Later some boys walked up to him with wicked grins on their faces. Sunoo could sense trouble coming his way.

"Aren't you ashamed?" One of them asked. Sunoo couldn't recognize who was who because he never cared enough to know his classmates' names. 

Why are they acting like kids? 

"It's bad enough you're at the bottom in every exam, shouldn't you at least pay attention in class?" The other boy asked and shoved Sunoo onto the wall. 

"Stop acting like kids, guys," Someone said from behind them, startling the two boys. Sunoo glanced at that smiling boy, he was the most charming boy he ever set his eyes on.

"Heeseung, we were just messing with Sunoo, right?" The boy turned to Sunoo with a threatening glare, scaring him. "Y-yeah," Sunoo nodded. 

Heeseung looked at the trembling Sunoo with disinterested eyes. He rolled his eyes and walked away. "We're gonna remember this!" The boys said before chasing after Heeseung like some minions.

What did I even do??

___

The students started leaving as the bell rang, signalling the end of the school session. Sunoo looked at his watched, it was only 4:15.p.m so he had time to meet the class teacher since his job would start at 5.

After getting a scolding from the teacher, Sunoo immediately left the school for his part time job. While changing for his job, the teacher's words from earlier couldn't stop playing around in his head. 

Flashback(⁠ー⁠_⁠ー⁠゛⁠)

"Sunoo, Im going to get someone to help you out with your studies, so I hope you'll give your cooperation." 

"Who...?" Sunoo asked timidly. 

"You'll know by tomorrow. Just know that if you refuse, you'll have no choice but to drop out. Your grade is at the very bottom, your attendance rate is low and your attitude in class also doesn't help with that. I'm afraid this school doesn't have space for students who have no motivation to study."

Sunoo felt threatened by his teacher's words. He couldn't afford to stop school. He at least needed to graduate to get a job! 

(⁠ー⁠_⁠ー⁠゛⁠)

Sunoo's eyes were on the ground. He had to stop his tears from falling. 

Sunoo took a deep breath and smiled, trying to reassure himself. "It's okay, you can do this!" He quietly cheered himself up. 

"Sunoo, where are you? We need you at the check-out!" A senior suddenly called out, startling Sunoo.

"Yes, I'm coming!"

___

[The next day]

[ Kim Sunoo's P.O.V]

I was told to wait at the library and wait for my tutor. Where are they though? It's been more than half an hour.

I sighed. Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder making me look up. I was shocked to find the boy from yesterday standing behind me, looking down on me.

By reflex, I quickly stood up and distanced myself from him. 

The guy smiled at me, "hey, I'm sorry for being late," He apologized and sat down on the chair I was sitting on earlier. Stunned, I just watched as he took one book to fan himself.

He noticed me staring at him and grinned, "it sure was hard getting myself away from those girls. Come on, sit down," he invited me and pulled out the chair next to him.

There was no way I was going to sit next to him, so I opted for the chair in front of him. I remember the boys from yesterday calling him Heeseung. He looked a little different from yesterday. 

Today he had his cardigan unbuttoned and his shirt not tucked in. 

No wait, why am i commenting on that?

"Nice to meet you, I'm Lee Heeseung. We've been in the same class for a year right?" He smiled again. I just nod my head. I wasn't really used to people being friendly to me. Most people avoid me like I'm some sort of walking virus.

And I definitely didn't notice someone like him being in the same class as me. Maybe that was on me for staring out the window all the damn time.

Heeseung looked around the library and scratched his neck. He turned to me, "You're really Sunoo, right?" He asked and I frowned. 

I see no one in this library, so I don't think he could mistake someone else for me. I nodded, obviously annoyed. 

His smile almost instantly faded. "Then at least answer me," he muttered. I was taken off guard by that sudden change in demeanor. 

"S-sorry," I couldn't help but be a bit intimidated by his looks. He just relieved a big sigh.

Honestly, I was a bit hurt by that since I really thought he would be kind. I guess I wasn't wrong about him looking at me with such cold eyes yesterday.

"The teacher told me to tutor you for our next exam, I really don't want to but I have no choice. Im sorry, but I'd much rather spend my free time studying for my own results." He groaned and covered his face in frustration. 

I was only able to sit there and keep quiet. I was embarrassed to a fault and the fact that I couldn't even strike back at him made it worse. 

"So I hope you'll at least try hard, is that clear?" He added and I instantly nodded. A second later, he was back to his smiling face.

"Okay then, I'll text you later," He grinned and left me alone. 

I was too stunned to even make a sound. I don't think I was even breathing until the sound of the bell snapped me out of my trance. 

What did I get myself into?

Chapter Text

[ Kim Sunoo's POV ]

I lied on my bed and screamed into the pillow. Today was so mentally exhausting. 

I had that thing with Heeseung, and then I got scolded by my boss at work. I somehow also got myself robbed by a group of delinquents. I mean, I didn't have any money so it wasn't that bad.

I seriously have the worst life. 

I looked up at the ceiling and imagined my grandmother's face smiling at me. "Will I be able to handle life tomorrow?"

Oh right, Heeseung is tutoring me tomorrow. 

I got up from the bed and put some books into a random bag I found behind the door and put the bag next to the door. It was so I wouldn't forget about that bag tomorrow.

I wouldn't want my ass kicked by that guy. 

___

"Hey!" Heeseung waved at me from a distance. I nodded back and ran towards him. Apparently, he didn't want to tutor me at school so here we are at the public library. 

"Come on, it's cold out here," Said Heeseung before rushing into the library. No way, was he really waiting for me outside? That long?

I did notice his face was red from the cold. "I-I'm sorry I made you wait," I said after setting my bag on the chair. 

Heeseung had this look on his face, but quickly changed when he noticed me staring at him. "Get your mathematic books out. Did you bring your paper from the previous tests?" He asked as he put on his glasses.

Whoa, he looks even hotter with his glasses on... 

Wait, why am I saying this? 

"Yes, I did," I replied quietly and got my papers out then handed them to Heeseung. He took a look at my scores and flipped through the papers before finally putting them back with a big sigh.

"You have a long way to go," He shook his head with an exasperated sigh. My face flushed from embarrassment. 

Heeseung cleared his throat, "now, let's get started," "o-okay..." 

___

Two hours have passed since we started and honestly, studying with him wasn't that bad at all. He may have a sharp tongue, but other than that, it's actually quite nice being around. 

Since he (probably) disliked me, he wasn't that nice, but it was honestly bearable and for the first time, I felt like I had a friend. Is that too much?

Snap!

I woke up from my daydreams.

"What are you daydreaming about?" Heeseung asked, his eyebrows furrowed. 

Was I daydreaming again?

"O-oh, I'm sorry," I apologized and resumed my work. 

I couldn't even do my work peacefully because he kept looking at me all throughout the time. I had a really hard time keeping my composure, it was too uncomfortable for me. He probably stared at me because I looked weird.

Heeseung cleared his throat. "Are you a stutter?" He suddenly asked catching me off guard. I looked at him in shock, wondering what made him even ask that.

"I-I stutter when I'm nervous," I said quietly. Heeseung nodded and just continued reading his book silently. 

[Author's P.O.V]

Time passed by quickly, as it had already been 4 hours since they arrived. Sunoo glanced at the boy next to him who was fast asleep, with piled up books as his pillow. 

"How did I even get stuck with him?" Sunoo said with a small voice. But Heeseung just had a good hearing as he seemed to be able to hear Sunoo comment earlier.

Heeseung grabbed Sunoo by the shoulder and pulled the poor boy towards himself, startling Sunoo. "What did you say about me?" Heeseung asked playfully.

Sunoo couldn't hear what the other boy was saying because in his head, he was panicking about the lack of distance between both of them. 

TOO CLOSE TOO CLOSE TOO CLOSE—

He pulled back. 

Heeseung frowned, "what's up?" "Too close..." Sunoo mumbled, with his face away. 

No, it wasn't because of some romantic shits or what. It was because Sunoo wasn't used to being THAT close to someone other than his grandmother, who left him alone 5 years ago.

Heeseung snickered, "damn, chill. I was just joking." The other boy just replied with a small laugh, trying to cover that he was flustered from the sudden prank. 

"Right, are w-we done? It's been 4 hours and I have things I need to do," Sunoo tried to change the subject while putting back his stationeries into his pencil box. Heeseung shrugged, "I guess. Wanna go get lunch together? I mean, I'm starving. It'll be my treat."

Sunoo was hesitant at first, but after confirming he got a few more hours until his job started, he agreed to Heeseung's offer because it meant that he didn't have to starve for today. They got their bags and went to the nearest restaurant on the same street.

Once they were done ordering, Sunoo tried his best to only look out the window while waiting for the food. He wasn't good at being social and wasn't trying to be. The silence between them was so awkward it felt like choking would be less painful-but starting a conversation with Heeseung? Definitely worse.

Heeseung, on the other hand, was bored out of his mind. His phone had died earlier and he didn't have a charger. No scrolling. No distractions. The only other option was to talk to the weirdo across from him. But about what?

They stayed like that until the food arrived.

Sunoo's eyes widened at the sight. He was starving. He hadn't eaten at all yesterday, just to afford new stationeries for today's tutoring. He wanted to dig in right away, but he had to stop himself. The food needed to last-today, and maybe even tomorrow.

He stole a glance at Heeseung, who was already enjoying his meal. Okay. This has to work.

Sunoo took about three spoons before setting his spoon down, catching Heeseung's attention.

"What's up? Food not to your liking?" Heeseung asked.

Sunoo shook his head. "Ah, no... I'm just too full from b-breakfast. Do you mind if I p-pack this to eat at home?"

Shit. Why am I stuttering now?

Heeseung gave him a weird look but nodded. "Go ahead."

"Thanks," Sunoo said with a small smile before calling the waiter.

Right after the waiter left, Heeseung leaned forward.

"I have a deal for you."

Sunoo blinked. "What is it?"

"For the upcoming exam, you need to score at least 50% or you'll have to treat me for lunch. But if you do get 50% and above, I'll treat you to something really good. Deal?"

Sunoo stared at him in disbelief. "50%?! I can barely get 30%, forget 50..."

"If you say so," Heeseung shrugged, pulling out his phone. "I'll just go ahead and choose the place I want you to treat me."

"Wait!" Sunoo panicked, stopping him. "I-I'll try..."

He whispered the last part.

Now, he had two options. Work his butt off for extra pay just to treat Heeseung, or work his butt off to get at least 50% in math.

Obviously, the second option made more sense. So really, he had no choice.

"Okay. Deal."

Heeseung grinned.

Sunoo sighed.

___

It had been a week, and Sunoo already felt like he was dying. Trying to balance work and studying for the upcoming exam—just two weeks away—was killing him.

Don't get him wrong, he was already struggling with his usual routine. But now, with extra studying? It was worse. He was getting even less sleep than he already did.

Should I just drop out?

The thought lingered for a moment, but he shook his head.

"No. I need to at least graduate high school. Grandma would want that..."

He glanced at the clock. Almost 1 a.m. He had just gotten back from work. Everything in him wanted to break down and cry, but he forced himself to breathe, to calm down.

Once he'd steadied himself, Sunoo pulled out his books from his bag and sat down to study until 4 a.m.

Well—at least, he tried to.. 

___

[ Night before the exam ]

"Okay, I think I memorized it all." Sunoo yawned as he stood up and stretched his body. He had been sitting for five hours straight without getting up-just to make sure he memorized everything he learned over the past three weeks.

He walked over to the small mirror stuck to his wall.

It was kind of a surprise, honestly, looking at his reflection. His eyes were sunken, and the eyebags were severe. He stared for a moment and thought, Okay... I see why people came up with new insults I've never heard before.

Lately, his schoolmates had gotten real creative. They gave him a new nickname; Zombie.

Or more specifically, the cursed zombie boy.

He always told himself he didn't care about what people said. But the truth was, Sunoo did feel hurt. Deep down, those comments stung.

He felt kind of lucky that he was too busy with work and all-because if he wasn't, the words probably would've taken his life.

Joking.

Or not.

"Let's just hope for the best tomorrow. I've tried my best... If the results still come out like shit, I think I might actually drop out," he muttered, laughing dryly at his own words.

"Oh shit, it's almost 4! Need to sleep..."

Sunoo flopped onto the bed and stared up at his busted ceiling. Despite everything, he smiled.

"Goodnight, Grandma. Wish me luck..."

Chapter Text

Sunoo was sweating profusely as he walked down the hallway. It felt like he was walking straight to the guillotine.

Well, he wasn't exactly wrong.

Today was the long-awaited exam day.

It was nerve-wracking.

Sunoo never really cared whether it was exam day or not—he usually either handed in a blank paper or skipped the whole thing because of work. So, this was... new. The stress. The pressure. The expectation—mostly from himself.

He walked into class and went straight to his desk, wiping the sweat from his face with his sleeve.

Heeseung appeared beside him.

"Whoa, you definitely look worse than two days ago," Heeseung said, genuinely concerned.

Sunoo shook his head. "No, I don't."

"You do."

Sunoo looked up at the taller boy, brows furrowed.

And what's that gotta do with you?

He shook his head again. "I'm okay," he said flatly, not even trying to hide the annoyance in his tone.

Heeseung caught it and didn't push further. Whatever. It's not like he actually cared.

He shrugged and headed back to his seat, to his little 'popular group'.

Sunoo sighed and dropped his head onto the desk. The headache he'd been suffering for the past three days was even worse today—like someone had drilled a hole into his skull and just left the machine on. 

Just as sleep was about to engulf him, the class teacher walked into the room, a stack of exam papers in her hands.

Sunoo sat up straight, suddenly wide awake. His eyes zeroed in on the papers, and he gulped.

The teacher walked to the front and scribbled something on the blackboard before turning around to face the class.

"You will be having your final exam for this year starting today. It's Mathematics today," she announced, her voice clear and sharp as she began handing out the papers.

"You are not allowed to use any reference books, talk to your classmates, and definitely no cheating. You must stop writing immediately once time runs out. Best of luck to you all. I have high expectations."

The way she stared directly at Sunoo during the last sentence made it very clear-she had high expectations for him specifically.

And oh, she was dead serious about it.

Sunoo could feel his hands start to tremble.

If only the stuttering habit he would have whenever he was nervous applied to his body too, he would've had a seizure by now.

He shifted his eyes to Heeseung, who sat two desks in front.

Weirdly enough, just looking at him calmed Sunoo down a bit. 

Maybe it was the burning determination not to spend his hard-earned money treating that guy to lunch.

Sunoo looked down at his paper and took one final deep breath, then started answering.

This continued for the rest of the week until, finally, the exams were over.

It had been an exhausting week-more than usual for Sunoo—but by the end of it, he felt... relieved.

Free?

Not really.

Right after exams ended, Sunoo was thrown straight back into working non-stop.

Someone had quit at one of his part-time jobs, so he had to cover their shifts too.

Now, he wouldn't get home until around 2 or 3 A.M. every day.

___

My head hurts so bad...

Sunoo groaned softly, pressing his forehead against the desk.

His eyes felt heavy, and the back of his neck throbbed from the awkward position he must've been sleeping in.

The classroom was noisy again—students shuffling around, grabbing their bags, voices low and excited.

He blinked blearily at the empty desk in front of him.

No paper.

He rubbed his face and looked around. Everyone had gotten their results already. Some were comparing scores, some looked disappointed.

But he hadn't even noticed the teacher coming by.

"...Guess I slept through it."

His voice was barely a mutter to himself.

He felt a flicker of disappointment, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

There wasn't time to be upset—not when he had work after this. He had other things to worry about.

Still, it stung a little.

He got up, slinging his bag over one shoulder. His head pulsed dully, like it was reminding him not to forget about the pain.

He walked out of the building slowly, pressing his fingers against his temple, hoping the pain would fade if he just kept walking.

That was when a quiet voice came from behind him.

"Hey."

He turned slightly, squinting.

Heeseung stood a few steps away, hands in his pockets, eyes unreadable.

"You forgot something."

Sunoo blinked.

Heeseung walked up and held out a folded paper— Sunoo's name scribbled in the corner.

"...You took it for me?" Sunoo asked, surprised.

"You were dead asleep," Heeseung replied, looking off to the side. "Figured you'd want to know how badly you failed."

Sunoo nodded and took the paper with both hands. "Thanks... I guess."

He opened it carefully, heart thumping.

52%.

He stopped walking.

His eyes stayed glued to the number, and then—without realizing it—he smiled.

It wasn't a big smile. Just a quiet one. Small. But it softened his whole face.

For a moment, Heeseung stared.

Something about the way Sunoo smiled—it wasn't the kind of expression he was used to seeing on him.

And... weirdly, it looked kinda—

Nope.

Heeseung cleared his throat and looked away, scowling to himself.

"...Barely passed."

"Still passed," Sunoo said, and that same small smile was still there. "I really didn't think I would."

He folded the paper carefully and put it in his bag, but his hands trembled slightly. The pain behind his eyes was getting worse.

His vision swam. Everything tilted.

"oh no-"

And then everything dropped.

"Sunoo?!"

Heeseung caught him just in time, grabbing his arm before he hit the ground.

Sunoo's body sagged against him—he was still conscious, barely, but he was burning up.

"Are you serious right now?" Heeseung muttered, his voice tight with disbelief. "You're not even gonna say anything before collapsing?"

"...I'm sorry..."

Then he passed out.

Heeseung stared down at Sunoo's unconscious form. His heartbeat was rapid, a mix of worry and frustration.

What the hell am I supposed to do now?

He should've just left him there, right? Sunoo's headache wasn't Heeseung's problem. But looking at him, limp and pale, Heeseung couldn't bring himself to walk away.

I can't just leave him.

Heeseung glanced around—no one was nearby. It wasn't like anyone would see him, and no one would care either way. He couldn't just let Sunoo lie here on the concrete, though.

Fine. I'll take him to mine.

He sighed, kneeling down beside Sunoo. There was no easy way to do this. He wasn't about to drag the guy across the sidewalk, so he slipped his arms around Sunoo's legs and shoulders, hoisting him up into a piggyback.

Sunoo's limp weight draped over Heeseung, and for a second, Heeseung couldn't help but feel the heat from his body. His pulse quickened, but he shook the thought off.

Get it together, man. 

It wasn't like he'd never carried someone before, but carrying Heeseung felt strange. Maybe it was the weird way Sunoo's body fit against his back. Heeseung didn't know, but it made him uneasy in a way he couldn't quite describe.

Still, he started walking toward his apartment. It was close enough, and he'd be able to get Sunoo inside before anyone noticed.

Heeseung adjusted Sunoo on his back, his arms a little sore from the weight, but he didn't mind. Sunoo was out cold, and Heeseung could barely feel the guy's warmth against him, despite how light he was.

It was ridiculous, really. One minute he was getting out of class like any other day, the next minute, he's stuck carrying Sunoo because the guy decided to pass out on him.

Heeseung sighed, mumbling under his breath. "This is such a mess..."

His footsteps echoed on the sidewalk as he walked, keeping a steady pace. It wasn't that he didn't want to help the guy—he just didn't care enough to go out of his way for him. Or at least, he hadn't thought so. Yet here he was, stuck carrying Sunoo. There was no other option, he supposed.

He glanced down at Sunoo, his head resting lightly on his shoulder. The kid looked so fragile like this. Maybe that's why Heeseung felt this stupid little urge to take him somewhere safe instead of letting him wake up in the hallway.

"Whatever," Heeseung muttered, not fully convinced that he wasn't doing this for his own reasons.

His apartment was only a short walk away, and it didn't take long before he was at the front door, unlocking it with a bit more force than necessary. Once inside, he moved quickly, shifting Sunoo slightly as he made his way to the couch. It wasn't the best place to put him, but Heeseung didn't have the patience to figure out where else.

He gently placed Sunoo down, the guy barely shifting, still unconscious.

Heeseung stood there for a second, staring at him. The sight was strange. Sunoo—who usually had that sharp look in his eyes like he was always ready to fight back-was totally still. Vulnerable. Heeseung couldn't help but notice that Sunoo looked... kinda cute like this, and he quickly dismissed the thought. What the hell was that?

"Lucky I didn't just leave you back there," Heeseung muttered, running a hand through his hair. He didn't know why he said it—Sunoo probably wouldn't even remember this. But that didn't matter now.

He glanced at Sunoo one last time, then sat down on the edge of the couch, trying to figure out what the hell to do next. Should he check if Sunoo had a fever? Was that even something he should care about?

He sighed again, leaning back against the armrest. Whatever. It was too late to turn back now. He wasn't going anywhere.

So he waited.

____

So comfy...

Sunoo shifted in his sleep.

But then he realized.

Wait.

His eyes shot open.

Comfy?

His bed was anything but comfy.

Sunoo sat up abruptly from the couch, eyes scanning the unfamiliar room in panic.

Where was he?

Was this... heaven?

And what was this magical, soft couch under him?

"A-Am I in heaven?"

"What nonsense are you talking about right after waking up?"

Sunoo turned toward the voice—and nearly choked.

Standing next to the couch, arms crossed, was none other than his tutor; Lee Heeseung.

"W-Where am I?" Sunoo asked, his guard instantly up.

He tried to stand, but a sharp pain shot through his head, forcing him back down with a groan.

Heeseung sighed, walked over, and handed him a glass of water.

Sunoo hesitated, then took it and gulped it down in one go. His eyes never left his lap.

Why wasn't this guy answering?

"...You're at my house," Heeseung finally said as he sat on the edge of the couch.

Sunoo's eyes widened.

"Why-"

"Oh, did you want me to leave you on the street?" Heeseung cut him off.

Sunoo's face burned. He looked anywhere but at Heeseung.

Then his eyes landed on the wall clock.

10 P.M.?!

He turned back, panic flaring.

"Why didn't you wake me up? I missed my shift!"

Great. His boss was definitely going to scold him—and he'd lose today's pay. That meant no dinner.

Heeseung rolled his eyes.

"Excuse me, you were sleeping like a log. Also, no need to worry-your boss or someone called, and I told him you were taking the day off."

Sunoo's eye twitched.

Oh, great.

Taking the day off = no pay.

No pay = no food.

Who the hell gave this guy the right to decide that for him?

"You should've woken me up," Sunoo snapped, glaring.

"I did you a favor and now you're mad at me? Ridiculous."

"A favor I didn't ask for!"

The words came out louder than intended.

Sunoo's breath caught. He hadn't meant to raise his voice.

Yeah, Heeseung kind of had a point.

He probably should be grateful instead of yelling like an ungrateful brat.

Sunoo sighed, dragging a hand through his hair.

"Thanks. But I should go now," he muttered, trying to get up again.

Heeseung blocked him with a hand.

"Where are you going? It's late. Just spend the night here."

Wait, what am I doing?

Why did I just say that?

Heeseung instantly regretted the offer, but the words were already out.

Taking them back now would just feel... mean.

Sunoo shook his head.

"No need. I have work after this."

Heeseung scratched his cheek awkwardly.

"I also... might have told your other boss that you'd take the day off today..."

His voice trailed off.

Sunoo stared at him, mouth slightly open.

He let out a disbelieving scoff. And tried very, very hard not to lunge at him.

Sunoo rubbed his temples, his head still pounding from earlier. He let out a shaky breath, eyes fixed on the floor.

"Now I just lost a day's worth of pay..." he mumbled to himself, voice low.

His throat tightened.

"That's like... dinner and lunch gone."

The words weren't meant for anyone.

Just a passing thought.

But Heeseung, standing nearby with arms crossed, heard them loud and clear. His brows furrowed slightly.

"...You haven't eaten?"

Sunoo flinched, realizing too late what he'd just said out loud.

He kept his head down and muttered, "...I'm fine."

But Heeseung didn't buy it.

Fine, my ass.

Still, he didn't press further.

Instead, he walked toward the kitchen like it wasn't a big deal, opening cabinets and shifting things around. Sunoo just watched in silence, the dull ache in his head making it hard to focus on anything.

"What do you mean—that's like dinner and lunch gone?"

Sunoo stayed silent. He just gave a slight shrug, as if it didn't matter—but Heeseung wasn't buying it.

Heeseung clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. "So you really don't eat if you don't work?"

Still no answer. Just the quiet ticking of the wall clock and the low hum of city noise outside the window.

Heeseung let out a small scoff and rolled his eyes, "whatever".

"I'm cooking something simple. Eat or don't, up to you."

Sunoo blinked.

What...?

"I'm not hungry," he said.

"Didn't ask," Heeseung replied flatly.

Sunoo's jaw dropped slightly. "What do you mean you didn't ask-?"

"I said I'm cooking. If you don't want to eat, don't eat. But don't complain later when your stomach sounds like a dying whale."

Sunoo stared.

This guy...

He clicked his tongue and looked away, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders again. His stomach, however, made its own opinion known with a low growl.

Sunoo froze. So did Heeseung.

Heeseung didn't say anything.

He just turned back to the stove, but the corners of his lips twitched slightly.

"Told you," he muttered under his breath.

Sunoo buried his face into the blanket, ears burning.

Maybe he'd stay. Just for tonight.

Chapter Text

"Hey. Wake up."

A voice pulled Sunoo out of the darkness.

"Dinner's done."

He peeled his eyes open slowly. The lights were dim, but warm. Heeseung was standing beside the couch, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Sunoo blinked a few times. "...Dinner?" he mumbled, still half-asleep.

Heeseung nodded. "Yeah. Come on. It'll get cold."

Sunoo rubbed at his eyes, sitting up sluggishly. His hair was a mess, and his voice still hoarse from sleep.

"Wait," he yawned, "is this the dinner you promised me if I got fifty and above...?"

Heeseung blinked, caught off guard. His eyes lingered on Sunoo's face longer than necessary. There was something about it, something softer, more real. Bare, without all the exhaustion and guarded walls.

He looked... different like this.

"I'll get you something better next time," Heeseung said quickly, brushing it off. "That was just a warm-up."

Sunoo squinted at him. "Huh?"

Heeseung clicked his tongue and snapped his fingers. "Are you still half-asleep? Wake up, Zombie Boy."

That got a small but cute groan out of Sunoo. 

Heeseung turned before Sunoo could catch the way his ears turned a little red.

Sunoo followed Heeseung into the kitchen, still rubbing his eyes. The smell of something warm and savory filled the air, and his stomach grumbled on cue.

Heeseung glanced back. "You sure you're not just sleepwalking?"

"I'm awake," Sunoo muttered, taking the seat closest to the counter. "Kind of."

Heeseung placed a plate in front of him. Rice, some stir-fried vegetables, and grilled chicken. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it looked good. Real.

Sunoo stared at it for a second. Heeseung raised an eyebrow.

"What, you don't like it?"

"No, it's..." Sunoo hesitated, then quietly picked up the spoon. "It looks good."

Heeseung watched him as he took the first bite. Sunoo chewed slowly, like he hadn’t eaten something warm in days. Which, honestly, wasn’t too far from the truth.

Heeseung didn’t say anything, but he pulled out a chair and sat across from him.

They ate in silence for a while. Not awkward, not heavy. Just... quiet.

After a few minutes, Sunoo looked up from his plate. "Why are you being nice to me?"

Heeseung paused mid-bite.

Sunoo kept going, voice low. "You didn’t even want to tutor me at first. So why go out of your way now?"

Heeseung set down his spoon. "I don't know."

Sunoo blinked. "That's your answer?"

"I'm not really good with this kind of thing," Heeseung replied, scratching the back of his neck. "But maybe... I just didn’t want to see you collapse like that again."

Sunoo lowered his gaze to his plate.

"...Sorry."

"For what?"

"For being a bother."

Heeseung leaned back in his chair. "You're not a bother."

Sunoo didn’t respond. He just kept eating, a little faster now.

Heeseung let him.

The clock ticked in the background. Outside, the city had quieted down.

After Sunoo finished, he set the spoon down and quietly said, "Thank you."

Heeseung gave a small nod. "You should go rest more. You still look half-dead."

"You calling me ugly now?"

Heeseung smirked. "Just saying, Zombie Boy."

Sunoo rolled his eyes and stood up with his plate. Heeseung watched as he headed to the sink, still a little unsure on his feet.

And for a second, he found himself smiling.

___

Back at school, it was quiet as usual.

No one paid him any more attention than they usually did, which was close to none. But Sunoo noticed something. A small shift. Not dramatic, but present enough for someone like him, who was used to blending into the background, to notice.

Lee Heeseung talked to him now.

Not in full conversations. Nothing bold or loud. Just a few words now and then, tossed his way like they were part of some casual routine. And maybe, for Heeseung, they were becoming one.

"You always make it just before the bell," Heeseung would say, passing by his desk like it was any other day.

Or sometimes, with a glance, "You look even sleepier than usual today."

They were small remarks. Teasing, but not cruel. Light, but not empty.

Sunoo didn’t always respond. Sometimes a nod. Sometimes a blink. Other times just a low hum from the back of his throat. 

He didn't quite know how to reply yet, or if he should. But despite himself, those words stayed with him through the day, like a lingering warmth in his otherwise quiet world.

It wasn’t friendship. Not yet. Not something he could name or hold onto. But it wasn’t silence either.

And for someone like Sunoo, who had long gotten used to silence, even that was enough to stir something.

___

Even though that night happened — the one where Heeseung made him dinner and let him sleep without worry for once — and even though they’d started exchanging a few words at school since then, Sunoo knew better than to think anything had changed.

Sure, he’d gotten more rest than usual that day. His body didn’t ache as much the next morning, and he even managed to get to school with a little time to spare. And yes, Heeseung had started saying things to him. Simple things. Casual remarks that no one else ever bothered to give him. But even that didn’t erase reality.

Because once he stepped back into his tiny apartment, all of it faded — the warmth, the ease, the strange sense of comfort he felt just being in Heeseung’s space.

And just like always, work waited for him.

Morning shifts. Evening deliveries. Cleaning. Smiling. Enduring. The cycle never ended. His hands kept moving even when his heart was tired. His legs kept walking even when his body screamed for rest.

He didn’t think too much about Heeseung, or the way he spoke to him now, like it was normal. Because thinking about it only made things feel heavier. Like he was getting used to something he wasn’t supposed to have.

So he didn’t.

He just kept going.

Like always.

___

Sunoo shut the door behind him with the softest click, as if the walls of the small apartment could shatter from the sound.

He dropped his bag without care. It hit the floor with a dull thud, landing near the edge of the worn-out futon that had long lost its shape. The streets outside were quiet at this hour, deep into the night, and the only light in the room came from the blinking red digits of a digital clock sitting atop a dusty shelf.

He didn’t bother turning on the light.

His legs moved on their own, slow and heavy, until he let himself fall onto the bed with a quiet sigh. He stared at the ceiling, unmoving, letting the silence wash over him.

His body ached. His arms felt numb from carrying crates earlier that morning. His feet throbbed from standing for hours. He hadn’t had lunch again, and the headache that came with it was now pulsing gently at the back of his head, dull but constant.

He wasn’t crying. He never really cried.

But his eyes stayed open for a long time, blinking slowly, as if trying to process something he couldn’t name.

He thought about the warmth of Heeseung’s apartment — the way the soft couch hugged his back, the quiet clatter of dishes from the kitchen, the smell of warm food.

It felt unreal. Like he had dreamt it.

Now, in the dark of his own space, the contrast made everything feel colder than usual.

Still, he said nothing. Not even to himself.

He just pulled the thin blanket over his body, turned away from the blinking clock, and shut his eyes.

___

The next day, it rained.

It wasn’t anything dramatic, just a soft drizzle that painted the classroom windows with streaks of water, warping the world outside into grey smears. The room was warm, quiet, save for the gentle scribbles of pens and the low murmur of the teacher’s voice.

Sunoo sat near the back, as usual. His hand was wrapped loosely around his pen, barely moving, his eyes unfocused as they stared at the half-written notes on his desk. His shoulders slouched, lower than usual, like something invisible was weighing them down.

Heeseung noticed.

Not intentionally, not at first. But something about Sunoo's posture caught his eye when he turned around in his seat to stretch. It was the stillness. The kind of quiet that didn’t feel like peace, but something heavier.

He watched him for a second longer before turning back to his notebook, chewing the end of his pen cap in thought.

Then, when class ended and the bell rang, Heeseung didn’t leave right away.

He tidied his desk, then walked few steps across the classroom and stopped by Sunoo’s desk.

"You okay?" he asked, tone casual but quieter than usual.

Sunoo blinked, like the question hadn’t fully registered.

"Huh?"

"You look like you haven’t slept in a week."

Sunoo tried to straighten up, brushing his hair out of his face. "I'm fine."

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, not quite convinced. "Fine-fine or just enough to survive?"

Sunoo let out a small sigh, almost like a puff of air. "Does it matter?"

Heeseung leaned slightly on the desk beside him. "Maybe not. Just... you don’t have to burn yourself out."

There was a short pause. Sunoo didn’t say anything, just focused on a pencil mark on his desk.

"You looked like you were falling asleep with your eyes open the entire class," Heeseung added.

Sunoo offered a dry, tired chuckle. "That’s a talent, actually."

Heeseung smiled a little. "Well, maybe don’t put it on your college resume."

He glanced at Sunoo’s notebook. "You didn’t write anything today."

Sunoo looked down at the blank page. "Didn’t feel like it."

"You’re gonna get in trouble."

"I’m already in trouble," Sunoo muttered.

Heeseung didn’t respond to that right away. His fingers tapped lightly on the corner of the desk.

"Want me to send you the notes later?"

Sunoo blinked again. His voice was soft. "Why would you do that?"

Heeseung shrugged. "Because I already wrote them?"

Sunoo looked away, eyes lowering again. "Thanks... I guess."

Heeseung didn’t press further. He only nodded, lips pressing into a line.

"Don’t go passing out on me again," he said, tone lighter than his words, but there was a flicker of sincerity behind it. "One night of emergency hosting is enough, thanks."

"I didn’t ask to be carried," Sunoo mumbled, voice low but not harsh.

"You’re welcome, by the way," Heeseung quipped.

"Yeah... thanks," Sunoo added quietly, almost like an afterthought.

Heeseung hesitated, shifting the strap on his shoulder.

"You know... if you ever need to talk or whatever. I mean, not that you have to. Just saying."

Sunoo gave him a look, tired but not cold.

"Not really good at that."

"Neither am I," Heeseung admitted with a tiny laugh. "Guess we’re even."

But before he reached the door, Heeseung glanced back and added, "If it's too much, don't force yourself."

Sunoo didn’t reply. His eyes lingered on the spot where Heeseung had stood, a strange tightness curling in his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was guilt, confusion, or something else entirely.

But he knew one thing for certain;

Heeseung was watching him. Not the way others did, with judgment or pity. But like he was... paying attention.

And for someone like Sunoo, that was terrifying and comforting all at once.

___

It was just past seven when Heeseung stepped out of the convenience store, a plastic bag dangling from one hand, the night air brushing cool against his skin.

He didn’t expect to see anyone familiar. Especially not Sunoo.

But there he was—across the street, a bright yellow vest slung over his shoulders, a stack of flyers in his arms. He looked half-asleep, hair a mess under the flickering light of a store sign, lips pale, eyes dull.

Heeseung slowed his steps.

For a second, he just stood there.

Then—

He crossed the street.

Sunoo didn’t notice him at first. His focus was on the flyers, mechanically handing them to uninterested passersby who either ignored him or waved him off without a glance. The drizzle had stopped, but his shoulders were still damp, probably from being out here too long.

Heeseung stopped a few feet away, just watching.

"You moonlight as a traffic cone now?" he said, nodding at the reflective vest.

Sunoo looked up, startled. His brows furrowed like he couldn’t tell if Heeseung was real or not. Then he blinked and looked away.

"...What are you doing here?"

Heeseung lifted the plastic bag slightly. "Dinner run. Didn’t expect to see you out here working your third shift."

Sunoo shrugged and went back to passing out the flyers. "Gotta eat."

Heeseung watched a woman walk straight past Sunoo without even looking at him. He glanced at the nearly untouched stack in Sunoo’s arms.

"Is this the usual for you?"

Sunoo didn’t answer. Just kept his eyes down, his voice quieter this time. "Not always. Only when I need extra cash."

"Doesn’t that mean always?" Heeseung asked before he could stop himself.

There was no bitterness in Sunoo’s voice when he answered, just exhaustion. "Pretty much."

A beat of silence passed between them.

Then Heeseung shifted the bag to his other hand. "I was gonna eat this alone. You want half?"

Sunoo finally looked at him, brows raised. "Why?"

"Because you look like you haven’t eaten since... I don’t know, 1998?"

Sunoo let out a breath—was that a laugh? Maybe. Barely.

"...I’m working," he said.

Heeseung shrugged. "Not like you’re getting mobbed out here."

Sunoo glanced at the thin trickle of people on the sidewalk, the flyers still clutched tightly in his hands.

"...Five minutes," he mumbled.

Heeseung shrugged.

"That’s all I need."

They walked to the edge of the building nearby, settling on a low concrete step half-shielded from the breeze. Heeseung opened the bag, dividing the food into two sets of chopsticks and two still-steaming buns.

Sunoo took his portion, mumbling a quiet thanks without thinking.

It hit him a second later—he wasn’t stuttering.

Wasn’t hesitating.

Heeseung had stormed into his life out of nowhere, no warning, no invitation. And yet... Sunoo didn’t feel like shrinking away from him. He didn’t feel like running, or putting up the usual walls.

That was weird.

Not bad.

Just... weird.

Heeseung spoke again, but Sunoo didn’t catch it. He was too busy trying to figure out what exactly had changed.

Or maybe nothing had.

Maybe it was just Heeseung.

Heeseung took a bite of his bun and let out a small sigh, like he hadn’t realized how hungry he was until just now.

"This place makes decent food," he said between chews. "Better than the cafeteria, at least."

Sunoo nodded slowly, taking a small bite of his own. It was warm, soft, and somehow tasted better than anything he’d had in weeks.

Heeseung glanced over. "You're not allergic to anything, right?"

Sunoo shook his head. "No. I’m good."

"Good. I don’t wanna be responsible for sending you to the ER."

Sunoo gave a faint smile, small but real. He stared down at the food in his hands.

"...This is nice," he said, not looking at Heeseung.

"What is?"

"Just... sitting."

Heeseung hummed. "You don’t get to do that often?"

Sunoo hesitated, then answered quietly, "Not really."

Heeseung leaned back against the wall. "I noticed. You're always rushing off after school. Never stick around."

"You noticed that?"

"You make it kinda obvious."

Sunoo fell silent again, chewing slower now. The air between them wasn’t uncomfortable—just... unfamiliar.

"Do you always do this?" Sunoo asked eventually.

Heeseung looked over. "Do what?"

"Talk to people you barely know. Buy them dinner. Ask if they're okay."

Heeseung blinked, like he wasn’t expecting that question.

"...No. Not really."

Sunoo tilted his head slightly. "Then why?"

There was a pause.

Heeseung looked away, then back at him. His voice came quieter this time, but steady.

"Because we’re not strangers. We’re friends. Or… is it just me who thinks that?"

Sunoo froze.

His fingers curled slightly around the wrapper in his hand, eyes flicking up to meet Heeseung’s.

He didn’t know what to say.

Friend?

Heeseung?

Someone like him?

Something in his chest tightened—soft, unfamiliar.

He looked away quickly, hoping the other boy hadn’t noticed the way his ears turned red.

"...I didn’t know you thought that," he said under his breath.

Heeseung just smiled, a little crooked.

"Well. Now you do."

Sunoo didn’t respond. He just looked down again, pretending to focus on the last bite in his hand, but his mind was spinning.

Friend.

It echoed in his head like it didn’t belong there.

Heeseung didn’t push. He just leaned back, letting the silence settle between them again. But this time, it wasn’t awkward. It felt like something was building—slowly, quietly—without either of them needing to say it out loud.

The rain outside had softened to a mist, tapping faintly against the windows. Somewhere in the distance, a man, Sunoo's colleague, called his name.

Sunoo stood, brushing crumbs from his lap.

"I should go," he mumbled.

Heeseung nodded, grabbing his bag. "Yeah."

They walked side by side for a few seconds before Heeseung glanced over.

"You don’t have to walk behind me, you know."

Sunoo blinked. "What?"

"You always lag behind. Like you’re trying not to be seen walking with me."

"I’m not," Sunoo replied quickly, maybe too quickly.

Heeseung grinned. "Relax. I’m kidding. Mostly."

But Sunoo didn’t laugh. He just looked at him, puzzled.

"...You’re weird," he muttered.

"Takes one to know one."

They turned the corner and headed towards Sunoo's spot for handing out flyers earlier. The road was crowded with life, but for once, Sunoo didn’t feel like he was drifting alone in it.

They walked in silence for the rest of the way, the kind of silence that used to feel suffocating to Sunoo—until now.

Somewhere between the late-night dinner and the quiet exchanges at school, something had shifted. Not just in Heeseung, but in him too.

He didn’t know when it started exactly. Maybe it was when Heeseung first sat beside him during tutoring. Maybe it was when he passed out and woke up on someone else’s couch for the first time in his life. Or maybe it was just now, when Heeseung called him a friend without blinking.

Friend.

It was such a simple word. Too simple, maybe. And yet, it cracked something inside him. Not in a bad way—just enough to let some air in. Enough to make him realize how long he’s been holding his breath around other people.

He never thought someone like Heeseung—effortlessly liked, always smiling, never touched by the weight of the world—would look his way, much less say something like that. And mean it.

Sunoo glanced sideways, just for a second. Heeseung was walking beside him, one hand in his pocket, gaze ahead like nothing had changed.

But for Sunoo, everything was shifting.

Quietly. Slowly. Like snow starting to melt.

And for the first time in a long time, that didn’t scare him.

It made him wonder instead—

Maybe he wasn’t as invisible as he thought.

Chapter Text

Lately, school didn’t feel as heavy.

Sunoo wouldn’t call it fun. He wouldn’t say he liked it now. But there was something different. Subtle. Enough to make him stop dreading it.

Maybe it was because Heeseung kept talking to him. Not all the time, not in a loud, attention-grabbing way—but enough. A passing comment here, a quick question there. Just enough to remind Sunoo that someone noticed him.

And what was weirder was that he found himself replying. Not stiffly. Not with the one-word mumbles he gave everyone else. Sometimes he even said something... almost normal. And each time it happened, he’d catch himself too late, wondering why he didn’t feel like shrinking into his hoodie.

Why wasn’t he nervous around Heeseung anymore?

He didn’t know. But it scared him. Not in a bad way though. He wasn't sure.

One day, after class, Heeseung had just left Sunoo’s desk when his friends gathered around him near the door.

"Were you just talking to Sunoo?" Jake asked, tilting his head. "That gloomy kid?"

"Didn’t even know he could talk," Jay added, half-joking.

Heeseung frowned. "Don’t call him that."

Jake blinked. "What? Gloomy? I didn’t mean it in a bad way."

"He’s just quiet," Heeseung said. "Doesn’t mean he’s not worth talking to."

Jay raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Didn’t know you were getting close."

"Are you, though?" Sunghoon asked, his voice calm and unreadable.

Heeseung didn’t answer right away. He shrugged, eyes following Sunoo’s retreating back. "Kinda. I guess."

"You gonna introduce him to us?" Ni-ki asked, curious. "He seems... different."

Heeseung thought for a moment, then said, "Maybe. Not yet. I don’t think he’s ready to be around a circus."

Jake laughed. "You mean us being overwhelming?"

"Exactly."

He paused, then added, quieter, "Besides... I kinda wanna keep him to myself a little longer."

They all exchanged looks.

"Lame," Sunghoon muttered with a smirk.

Jay grinned. "Cute, though."

Ni-ki nudged Heeseung with his elbow. "You’re soft."

Heeseung rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

But he didn’t stop smiling.

___

The rain started just before lunch.

Not a slow drizzle like before—but a sudden, steady downpour that turned the courtyard into a blur of puddles and umbrellas.

Sunoo sat at his desk, hunched low, quietly unzipping his bag that sat tucked under his chair. From inside, he pulled out a flattened pack of bread he’d grabbed before leaving his morning shift at the convenience store. It was expired, he already knew that, but he'd hoped it would hold up until now.

He peeled the plastic back. A faint sour smell hit his nose. The crust was a little stiff, and near the edge of the slice, there was a greenish dot blooming just beneath the surface.

He stared at it. His fingers didn’t move.

"That’s not lunch."

He looked up.

Heeseung stood beside his desk, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed. A few meters behind him, the rest of his friends were lingering just outside the classroom door, chatting among themselves but casting occasional glances in his direction.

Sunoo didn’t answer.

Heeseung tilted his head. "You coming to the cafeteria?"

Sunoo blinked. "I don’t... I don’t pay for the school meals."

"So?"

"I’m not allowed to eat there."

Heeseung glanced at the bread again, then looked back at Sunoo.

"Then share with me."

Sunoo hesitated. "You don’t have to—"

"I didn’t ask if I had to."

There was a pause. Sunoo still looked unsure. The bread wrapper crinkled a little in his hand.

Heeseung reached out and took it from him—gently, not forcefully—then gave him a small shrug.

"It’s either this or moldy bread. Pick one."

Behind him, Jake called out, "Heeseung! You good?"

"Yeah!" Heeseung answered, without turning around. Then he looked at Sunoo again. "Come on. They're harmless."

Sunoo glanced past Heeseung’s shoulder. The others weren’t waiting impatiently or staring him down. They were just talking—joking, maybe—giving them space.

And maybe that was what made him stand.

Heeseung didn’t say anything else, just walked ahead with Sunoo following a half-step behind.

The cafeteria was alive with noise—the clatter of trays, the hum of chatter, chairs scraping against the linoleum floor.

Sunoo hovered just slightly behind Heeseung as they stepped in. The smell of food hit him immediately—hot soup, steamed rice, something fried—and his stomach twisted with something close to hunger and guilt.

Heeseung grabbed a tray like usual, but this time he asked for just a little more. An extra scoop of rice, an extra side dish. It wasn’t much, not enough to raise eyebrows, but enough.

Sunoo didn’t follow. He just stood there, unsure.

But Heeseung didn’t make a scene. He simply went through, got his slightly fuller tray, then walked back with a second pair of chopsticks tucked under it.

He slid into an empty table at the far end—far from the crowded center, but not too isolated. His friends followed not long after, settling around them, but not too close. Sunoo hesitated again at the edge of the table, unsure if he should sit.

Heeseung didn’t look up. He just set the chopsticks down beside him and shifted his tray slightly to the side. Making room. Offering, without words.

Sunoo sat.

He didn’t say anything. He just picked up the chopsticks, slowly, and watched as Heeseung moved the fried egg and half the rice to the edge of the tray between them. He kept the soup.

"You don’t eat soup?" Sunoo asked quietly.

Heeseung looked at him. "I do. But not when someone else needs it more."

Sunoo didn’t answer. He just looked down and muttered a small, almost silent, "Thanks."

From the table next to them, Jake leaned over to whisper to Jay, "He actually came."

Jay smiled, voice just as low. "And he’s sitting with us. Wow."

Sunghoon didn’t say anything, but he was watching—just not in a judgmental way. More like... observing. Curious.

Ni-ki, a few seats away, grinned. "Do we pretend this is normal?"

"Maybe don’t crowd him," Jay replied under his breath. "Let them be."

Heeseung noticed all of it. He just didn’t say anything.

He caught Sunoo sneaking a glance at the group and then immediately pretending to focus on chewing.

So he leaned in a little, whispering, "They’re loud, but not bad. If they get annoying, I’ll make them shut up."

Sunoo glanced at him, surprised. And then—barely there—his lips tugged into the faintest smile.

It was the first time he smiled around them.

Heeseung didn’t say anything about it.

But he saw it.

They ate quietly at first. Not awkward—just quiet.

Sunoo focused on the food, chewing slowly, like his brain hadn’t quite caught up to the fact that he was sitting here, at a table full of people, sharing lunch with the school’s effortlessly popular Heeseung.

He could feel glances from the others. Not constant, not overwhelming, but present. Curious.

Jake was the first to break the silence.

"So, Sunoo, right?" he said, his tone easy, friendly. 

Sunoo blinked. He looked up, chopsticks pausing mid-air. Then nodded. "Yeah."

"You’ve got crazy neat handwriting," Jake said. "Saw your notes once. Felt like mine wanted to self-destruct out of shame."

There was a small chuckle around the table—mostly from Jay, who added, "He’s not lying. Jake’s handwriting looks like it fought a war and lost."

Sunoo’s lips twitched. He ducked his head, not knowing how to respond, but the warmth in their teasing made it feel less like being laughed at and more like being let in.

Jay smiled gently. "Nice to finally talk to you, by the way."

Sunoo nodded again. "You too."

That was it. No prying questions. No forced conversation.

Just enough.

Sunghoon passed over a cup of water across the table without a word, like it was the most natural thing to do. Sunoo accepted it with both hands, giving the tiniest bow of his head in thanks.

Ni-ki leaned forward then, cheek propped against his palm. "You’re quieter than I thought," he said. Not rude. Just honest.

Sunoo looked at him, then looked away. "I don’t talk much."

Ni-ki shrugged, "we'll see."

And then went back to eating like it was the most normal exchange in the world.

The air around the table began to feel... lighter. Like the quiet around Sunoo wasn’t a wall anymore, but something soft. A place he could rest in.

Halfway through the meal, Heeseung glanced over and asked, “Want more rice?”

Sunoo shook his head quickly. “No, I’m okay.”

“You sure? You barely—”

“I’m okay.”

Heeseung let it go.

But he nudged the last piece of fried egg toward him anyway. “You can’t just eat rice.”

Sunoo hesitated. Then took it.

The others pretended not to notice, but the small smile on Jay’s face gave him away.

Eventually, the bell rang again.

Chairs scraped back. Trays were stacked. Students filtered out.

Sunoo stood up, quietly. Heeseung was next to him in an instant, casually keeping pace beside him as they made their way out of the cafeteria.

They didn’t say much.

But they didn’t have to.

For the first time in a long while, Sunoo didn’t walk the halls feeling like he was alone.

"So, is this a daily thing now?" Ni-ki asked, appearing out of nowhere and casually draping his arm over Sunoo’s shoulders.

Sunoo flinched but didn’t pull away.

"Don't scare him," Heeseung said, giving Ni-ki a look.

"I'm not!" Ni-ki grinned. "I’m bonding."

Before anyone could respond, a familiar voice called out from behind them.

"There you are," Jungwon said, catching up with his mouth still full with a snack he ate along the way, a red armband strapped to his upper arm. "Student council duty is a scam. They made me count chalk. Chalk, Heeseung hyung. Boxes of it."

"You counted chalk?" Jake blinked.

"Yes. It was spiritual," Jungwon replied, deadpan. Then he tilted his head at Sunoo. "Oh. Sunoo hyung. You’re smaller than I thought now that we're up close."

Sunoo stared.

Jungwon smiled brightly, like that explained everything.

Heeseung sighed. "Ignore him. He's... like that."

Sunoo didn’t reply, but for the first time, he didn’t feel like the silence between them was a bad thing.

They turned the corner toward their classroom, still chatting—Jake complaining about the cafeteria curry, Jay reminding Ni-ki not to forget their club meeting, Sunghoon silently sipping from a juice pouch like he'd rather be anywhere else.

Sunoo walked a little behind them, not quite in the middle of the group—but not outside of it, either.

And when Heeseung glanced back to make sure he was still there, Sunoo felt something unfamiliar flutter in his chest.

Maybe this was okay.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad.

___

The final bell rang, and students poured out of the classroom like water spilling from a bucket. Sunoo took his time, packing his things in his usual quiet rhythm. He didn’t notice Heeseung waiting by the doorway until he zipped his bag closed and stood.

"You heading out?" Heeseung asked, adjusting his shoulder strap.

Sunoo nodded. "Yeah. Work."

"Which one?"

"Store."

"Mind if I walk with you? It’s on the way."

Sunoo hesitated. Then nodded again.

They didn’t talk much at first. The late afternoon sky had turned pale and cloudy, the air cool and damp from the earlier rain pour.

"Jungwon was really counting chalk?" Sunoo asked after a while.

Heeseung snorted. "Yeah. He said it was a spiritual experience."

Sunoo softly chuckled, "He’s weird."

"You’ll get used to it."

The convenience store came into view, its flickering sign buzzing faintly.

"Well, here," Sunoo mumbled.

Heeseung gave him a small smile. "Don’t overwork yourself. Seriously."

"I’ll try." Sunoo shrugged.

Heeseung watched him disappear through the sliding doors.

Inside, the mood changed immediately.

"You’re late," Jihwan muttered from behind the counter, not looking up.

Sunoo checked the clock. He wasn’t late.

"I’m on time," he said quietly.

"Sure you are. Just don’t mess up the drinks again. You're already enough burden as it is."

Sunoo bit the inside of his cheek as it flushed from embarrassment and walked to the back without another word.

That night, past midnight, Sunoo dragged himself home. Every part of him ached. He barely had the energy to shower before collapsing onto his bed.

His phone buzzed.

Heeseung:

Still alive?

Sunoo stared at the message.

He typed;

Sunoo:

Barely.

A moment passed. Then a meme appeared—a frog buried under papers with the caption: me at life.

Then another message;

Heeseung:

Night, zombie.

Sunoo didn’t reply. But his lips twitched.

Just a little.

He left the chat open until sleep took him.

____

The sky was dull again.

Saturday afternoons in early winter always looked a little washed out—gray clouds smudging the sun, the chill creeping into coat sleeves. Heeseung had been on his way to grab a drink from the small mart a few blocks from his apartment. He wasn’t expecting to see Sunoo.

But there he was.

Head ducked, sleeves rolled halfway up, crouched by the crates outside the convenience store, arranging soda bottles into neat little stacks. Heeseung slowed instinctively.

Sunoo hadn’t noticed him.

He looked tired again. Not in the same way as at school—this was deeper, etched into the slope of his shoulders and the slowness of his movements. The collar of his jacket was wrinkled. There was a small stain on the hem of his apron. Heeseung frowned a little without realizing.

"Oi," he called softly, stepping closer.

Sunoo startled, looking up. Then his expression shifted—surprise first, then a flicker of something unreadable.

"You stalking me now?" he muttered, brushing his hands on his apron.

"You wish," Heeseung said dryly, then nodded toward the bottles. "These giving you trouble?"

Sunoo gave a small shake of his head. "They’re heavy. But not impossible."

"You shouldn’t be doing that alone."

"I’m not," Sunoo said, glancing toward the store. "Jihwan hyungs in there."

"Helping?"

Sunoo paused, then quietly said, "...supervising."

Heeseung snorted. "Wow. Sounds efficient."

Sunoo didn’t smile, but something about Heeseung’s voice seemed to ease his shoulders a little. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, just... calm.

"You here for something?" Sunoo asked after a moment, reaching for another crate.

"Was gonna get a drink. But now I feel like I should just sneak it and run."

"You’d get me fired."

Heeseung raised a brow. "You make it sound tempting."

Finally, Sunoo let out the tiniest huff of a laugh. Heeseung’s eyes softened.

A sharp voice cut through the moment.

"Sunoo! You done yet?" Jihwan called from inside the store. His tone wasn’t aggressive—but it wasn’t kind either. "We’re already behind."

Sunoo stood a little straighter. "Almost."

Jihwan glanced outside, then spotted Heeseung. His eyes flicked between them, his mouth pulling tight in clear disapproval.

"Didn’t know this was social hour," he muttered. "If you’re not buying anything, move along."

Heeseung opened his mouth, but Sunoo stepped in.

"It’s fine, hyung. He was just leaving."

Heeseung looked at Sunoo. He wasn’t angry—but there was a small tension in his jaw that hadn’t been there before.

"Right," Heeseung said eventually. He gave Sunoo a look that almost felt like a question. But Sunoo was already going back to the bottles, head bowed.

Heeseung shoved his hands in his pockets. "Don’t overdo it."

Sunoo didn’t reply, but he heard it.

As Heeseung walked away, he looked back once—just briefly—and caught Jihwan walking past Sunoo without offering to help.

Heeseung’s frown returned.

___

The store had gone quiet.

Most of the late-night rush had passed. A few university students loitered by the snack aisle, laughing over cup noodles and debating instant ramen flavors. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, flickering once every few seconds, and Sunoo was wiping down the drink fridge with a rag that was starting to smell like lemon cleaner and exhaustion.

Jihwan was sitting behind the counter, scrolling on his phone.

As usual.

Sunoo didn’t mind doing the grunt work. He never did. But tonight, he was so tired he could feel his limbs trembling a little when he crouched to get to the lower shelves.

Still, he kept wiping.

"You’re taking your time," Jihwan said without looking up.

Sunoo paused, then went back to cleaning. "Just trying to do it properly."

Jihwan scoffed. "Sure. Real perfectionist, aren’t you?"

No reply.

"You messed up the coffee machine last time too, remember?" Jihwan added, eyes still glued to his screen. "If the boss was here, I’d tell him to cut your hours."

Sunoo’s grip on the cloth tightened. He didn’t say anything.

Jihwan continued like it was nothing. "You’re not cut out for this kind of work, you know. Maybe you should stick to school. Or just go home. Whatever."

The bell above the door jingled, a pair of drunk office workers stumbling in with loud laughter, their suits half unbuttoned. Sunoo mumbled a greeting and helped them with their purchase, trying to focus on counting their change right. His hands felt numb.

When they left, Jihwan didn’t say anything for a while.

Then; "That guy from earlier. The one you were talking to."

Sunoo didn’t look at him.

"Your boyfriend or something?"

The words weren’t teasing. Just flat. Dry. Meant to poke.

Sunoo set the rag down. Turned slowly.

"No," he said quietly.

Jihwan shrugged. "Weird. Just saying. Didn’t think someone like you had... people."

Sunoo felt something shift in his chest. It wasn’t anger—not quite. But it stung. Something sharp and bitter.

"Can I take my break now?" he asked, voice flat.

Jihwan checked the time on the wall clock, exaggeratedly. "You get ten minutes. Don't disappear."

Sunoo nodded, pulled off his apron, and stepped outside.

The night air was cold. Crisp. It bit into his cheeks and fingers, but it still felt better than being inside.

He leaned back against the brick wall, exhaled slowly, watching the faint puff of his breath dissolve into the dark.

He pulled out his phone. There was no new message.

Not that he had anyone to contact. Except Heeseung.

So naturally, his thumb hovered over the chat with Heeseung.

Then—slowly—he typed:

You busy?

Sent.

Sunoo stared at his phone after sending the message.

He didn’t expect anything. It was late. Heeseung was probably asleep.

But the screen lit up almost instantly.

Heeseung:

Not really. Why?

Sunoo hesitated. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard.

Sunoo:

Just… needed some air.

Heeseung:

Still at work?

Sunoo:

Yeah.

There was a short pause. Three dots appeared and disappeared a few times.

Then came the reply:

Heeseung:

Want me to come over and beat someone up?

Sunoo blinked. A small breath escaped him — half a laugh.

It was dumb. And kind of funny. And... weirdly comforting.

Sunoo:

No thanks. But... thanks.

Heeseung:

Okay. But the offer stands. Just say the word.

Sunoo didn’t reply.

He just stared at the message a while longer, the corners of his lips twitching up before he finally pocketed his phone and stepped back inside.

____

The lights felt brighter. Harsher.

Sunoo tied his apron again and moved toward the back counter where the small fridge held the milk cartons. The evening stock delivery had been done late, and the new stock was still piled near the back door, not yet arranged.

He glanced at the mess, then froze.

The milk cartons.

Several were already shelved — but the expiration dates were off. A few were nearly a week from being outdated. Someone had mixed up the new stock with the old.

Sunoo looked around. Jihwan was leaning back in his chair again, munching on a bag of shrimp chips like he hadn’t just clocked in a full round of doing nothing.

"Hyung," Sunoo called quietly. "These... these aren’t stocked right."

Jihwan didn’t even blink. "What?"

"The milk. The dates are wrong. If someone buys them—"

"So fix it," Jihwan interrupted, tone suddenly sharp. "Why are you telling me?"

Sunoo stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Did you do this?"

A pause.

Jihwan turned, eyes narrow. "What are you trying to say?"

Sunoo stayed quiet.

"You saying I messed it up? You got proof?"

Sunoo opened his mouth. Closed it again.

It didn’t matter. The CCTV didn’t reach the shelf. And even if he did say something, who’d they believe?

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

"I’ll fix it," he said finally.

Jihwan looked back at his phone. "Good."

Sunoo crouched by the shelf, carefully swapping out the expired milk cartons with fresh ones. His hands moved on their own, trained by repetition, but his thoughts spun elsewhere.

The shelf had looked untouched when he got here. But there was no way to tell if someone had already taken one before he noticed.

He swallowed hard, glancing once toward the security mirror above.

No one said anything.

No alarms went off.

But something in his gut twisted all the same.

Chapter Text

For the past week—Sunoo somehow found himself eating his recess meals at the same cafeteria table as Heeseung and his friends.

He didn’t plan on it. It just… happened. One day turned into another, and before he realized it, he'd settled into the rhythm of talking (more like listening), and occasionally being pulled into the group’s strange dynamic. And it was weird. Not in a bad way. Just… weird.

What was weirder though was how much he was starting to learn about them—mostly from bits of conversation with Heeseung, usually when they were stuck walking the same hall or lingering after class, or just from quietly eavesdropping while eating the food he shares with Heeseung. And what he’d found out genuinely surprised him.

First, there was Jungwon. Sweet-faced, soft-spoken Jungwon who made the most bizarre animal noises at random moments and once even imitated the walk of a baby giraffe in the middle of the cafeteria just to get some dumb point across. No one remembered what the point even was. But somehow, that kid turned out to be a genius.

Apparently, Jungwon was a year younger than everyone else in the group—a middle schooler who had skipped a whole year and ended up in the same grade as Sunoo. Smart enough to jump a year like it was nothing. And the same went for Ni-ki.

Ni-ki. The guy who looked like he walked straight out of a teenage delinquent anime. Always brooding, with his wireless earphones in, sleeves rolled up, and zero respect for formal speech. That Ni-ki. Turned out he was two years younger than Sunoo and the others. Two. And yet, here he was, in the same grade, heading into the second year of high school like the rest of them. Because apparently, he was smart enough to skip two years of middle school.

Sunoo honestly didn’t know what shocked him more—how smart they were, or how they acted the complete opposite of what you’d expect. He guessed that’s why Jungwon and Ni-ki called everyone hyung, including Sunoo himself. Although, in Ni-ki’s case, he usually dropped the honorific completely and just spoke however he wanted. That often earned him a glare or a playful smack from one of the others, but no one really got mad. It was just… how Ni-ki was.

He also found out Jay was actually American and had moved to Korea alone, away from his family because, and Sunoo swore he wasn’t making this up—because he hated the food at American schools with all of his heart. Jay said that with a straight face. And for some reason, Sunoo respected that. Honestly, fair point.

Jake, on the other hand, was Australian and had only moved to Korea during his first year of middle school. Which explained the slight Aussie tint to his Korean whenever he spoke too fast or too casually. Also explained why he was pretty bad at spellings.

And then there was Sunghoon.

Sunghoon, the quiet, icy one who always looked like he had better places to be. Sunoo had figured he was probably rich or something. Which… maybe he was, but more importantly, he was a national-level figure skater. Like, legit famous. The kind you’d see on posters or mentioned in sports articles. Sunoo found out from overhearing a conversation between him and Jay about the pressure from Sunghoon’s coach ahead of some big national team trial test.

And that left Heeseung. Who, oddly enough, Sunoo was starting to talk to more than anyone else. Maybe because Heeseung had this easygoing, laid-back way of explaining things, or maybe because Sunoo didn’t feel the need to try so hard when he was with him.

Either way, it was weird how fast everything was changing. Just several days ago, he was keeping to himself, not even daring to eat near the popular crowd.

Now?

Now he was somehow in it.

___

At first, Sunoo hadn’t expected anything. Not friendliness. Not warmth. Definitely not the kind of effortless bond that began to form between him and the boys.

Jungwon, for instance — he was known as the brainiac of the school, always topping ranks and carrying an almost untouchable air, like someone who had it all together. But within the group, that air shifted. He was weird. Quirky in the strangest, most unexpected ways — like popping up behind Sunoo just to hum dramatically in his ear or calling him hyung with extra syllables for no reason.

Still, there was a kind of care in the way he did it. Gentle weirdness, if that was a thing. And lately, it became hard to ignore how Jungwon seemed to cling a little tighter to Sunoo’s sleeve, how his eyes always sparkled a bit more when Sunoo laughed at his antics — like it meant something. Of course, Sunoo didn’t notice the why, but everyone else could see it clearly. Especially Heeseung.

Which is probably why Heeseung had been acting just a little different lately. Less casual, more quietly possessive in a way that confused Sunoo. But he didn’t think much of it — at least not yet.

Ni-ki, despite his teasing, didn’t rub Sunoo the wrong way the way some people did. Sure, he’d flick a pen at him from across the table or call him dramatic when he yawned too loudly, but there was something almost soft under all of it. Ni-ki wasn’t loud about it, but Sunoo caught the way his eyes sometimes lingered — like he was making sure he was still okay.

The way he’d randomly offer to carry his bag, grumbling that it “looked heavy” even if it wasn’t. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t even obvious. But Sunoo felt it. That kind of quiet protectiveness. It had only been a few days, and yet... it was there.

And Jake — he was warmth personified. Like a golden retriever in human form, full of sunshine and comfort. Whenever the mood dipped at lunch, it was always Jake who noticed first. A joke here. A playful nudge there. He never pushed too hard, but he always pulled them back up. Sunoo found himself smiling easier when Jake was around, and laughing faster. Like maybe, for a moment, the heaviness of his chest didn’t matter.

Jay was a mix of odd and motherly. He bickered with Jungwon daily, laughed the loudest, but somehow also acted like he was thirty years old trapped in a teen’s body. 

He had this odd habit of bringing “leftovers” for Sunoo — small things, like a sandwich cut in half, or cookies wrapped in tissue — always with an offhand comment like, “Had too much from lunch,” even though they all knew Jay lived alone and never brought lunch. Sunoo never questioned it. But he noticed. And when he did, something about it made his throat tighten.

Jay reminded him of safety. Of someone who noticed things without having to be told. The way his eyes lingered on Sunoo’s too-loose uniform sleeves, or the days when he didn’t bring anything to eat.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, was different. They weren’t exactly... close. Not yet. Conversations were short, and the air between them still a little stiff. But the sharp, suspicious glances Sunghoon used to send his way had softened lately. They didn’t talk much, but Sunoo had noticed. And more importantly — he appreciated it. He didn’t expect warmth. Wasn’t greedy enough to ask for more. But it mattered, even if it was just a shift in someone’s gaze.

What surprised Sunoo most wasn’t the way they treated him.

It was that they kept doing it. Day after day.

Pulling him into conversations. Saving him a seat. Waiting for him when he lagged behind.

He still didn’t understand why they did it. Why they let someone like him — someone with nothing, no bright presence, no interesting story — just exist in their circle.

But for once, he didn’t want to run from it.

_____

But the same couldn’t be said about work.

Almost everyone at the convenience store had been on edge lately — not in the way that made things chaotic, but the kind that made the air feel too thick to breathe in. And for some reason, all of it seemed to circle back to Sunoo.

He couldn’t explain it exactly. The shift manager barely said a word to him unless it was to give orders, and the other part-timers — the ones who used to chat during breaks — would go quiet when he walked in. 

The stares weren’t obvious, but they lingered. Side-eyes from the aisle. A pause in laughter that was clearly about something he wasn’t part of.

And Jihwan…

Jihwan had gotten bolder.

He no longer waited for moments when no one was watching.

Now, he’d throw passive jabs right in front of the others —

"Make sure you don’t mess up again, yeah?"

"I’ll double-check it myself. No offense."

"You’re lucky you have the face, or they would've fired you by now."

Worse, he’d start assigning Sunoo tasks that weren’t his. Swapping duties mid-shift. Acting like the boss even when he wasn’t. Once, Sunoo found his name taken off the break schedule.

When he brought it up, Jihwan only shrugged and said,

"Must’ve been a system glitch. You sure you didn’t imagine it?"

Sunoo tried his best to endure the mistreatment for weeks. He needed to think of his situation. He couldn't get selfish and quit just because he felt out of place. Not when he was already struggling financially even if he was working 3 different jobs every day.

The final straw came through a message.

A ping during break. A new message in the store group chat.

"I swear if this kid fucks up the milk stock one more time i’m reporting him myself."

Sunoo blinked.

And then, it was gone.

Deleted. Fast. But not fast enough.

The message wasn’t even meant for this group chat. It was meant for someone else — or worse, a whole different group chat he wasn’t a part of. One where they trash-talked him behind his back. One where they believed the rumor.

Because apparently, someone had filed a complaint.

Several customers had come in with milk cartons that were well past the expiration date. The labels hadn’t been rotated. The shelves weren’t cleared. And somehow, Sunoo was the one to blame.

But Sunoo was sure it wasn’t him.

In fact, he remembered seeing Jihwan handle the dairy aisle that Saturday night— rushing through it like always.

He remembered checking the shelf later, catching the mistake. He was the one who swapped the milk boxes out.

But that didn’t matter now, did it?

People had made up their minds. And Sunoo…

He was starting to get an idea who started it.

And yet — despite everything — there was Heeseung.

Sunoo wasn’t sure what Heeseung knew. Maybe nothing.

But he still sent him memes at 2AM. Still asked if he’d eaten. Still dropped by after work with cold drinks or stupid excuses like "My place was on the way."

He never brought up the shift in Sunoo’s mood. Never asked why he was quieter, or why he looked like he wanted to disappear.

Heeseung just… stayed.

And somehow, that was enough.

Sunoo hadn’t realized it at first — how much he’d opened up. But lately…

He laughed easier when he was with Heeseung. He let his smiles slip. The soft kind, the unguarded kind.

Sometimes he’d catch Heeseung looking at him when he did, and it would make his heart stutter. He’d pretend not to notice, but the fluster always gave him away.

He even joked back now — dry humour, two words at best — but Heeseung would light up like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

Sunoo wasn’t used to the change.

But he didn’t dislike it, either.

He didn’t admit it, not even to himself, but… he was really starting to grow more fond of Heeseung. Maybe slightly more than the other guys.

And Heeseung?

He didn’t bother hiding it.

The others noticed — and they’d throw teasing jabs their way sometimes. Things like "Sunoo’s got a guard dog now" or "Didn’t know you had a soft spot, Heeseung."

But Heeseung always cut them off before it reached Sunoo.

Well — most of the time.

The few times it slipped past, the red on Sunoo’s ears didn’t fade until school ended.

____

It was almost midnight when his phone rang.

Sunoo had just gotten off his shift. The streets were quiet, dimly lit by orange streetlamps, and the cold air clung to his uniform. His feet ached, and his backpack felt heavier than usual. He blinked at the screen.

Heeseung.

He stared at it for a second. It was the first time Heeseung had ever called him. They usually only texted—short jokes, class reminders, complaints about Ni-ki. But never calls.

He answered anyway.

"Hello?"

There was a small pause.

"Hey," Heeseung said, casual like always. Like he hadn’t just broken an unspoken rule. "Did I wake you?"

Sunoo adjusted the strap on his shoulder. "No. I just got off work, actually."

"This late? Damn." A beat. "You walking home?"

"Yeah."

"You should’ve told me. I would’ve waited for you."

Sunoo’s lips twitched, tired but amused. "You didn’t even know what time I ended."

"I could’ve guessed. Or just waited the whole day, I don't know." There was a smile in his voice.

Sunoo exhaled quietly, his breath fogging up in the cold air. "Why’d you call?"

Heeseung was silent for a second, then said, "I was lying on my bed, doing nothing. Then I thought about you, and I guess my hand just moved on its own."

Sunoo’s steps faltered just a bit. He cleared his throat. "You’re weird."

"You’re weirder for picking up."

It was actually amazing how Heeseung could just say that casually.

They fell into an easy silence, the kind that didn’t feel awkward. Just the sound of Sunoo’s steps echoing down the sidewalk, and the faint hum of Heeseung’s breathing on the other end.

"Did you eat?" Heeseung asked suddenly. "Aside from lunch. Which you didn't even eat that much. I mean, lesser than usual."

Sunoo hesitated. Just that second of silence was enough.

"You didn’t, huh."

"I wasn’t really hungry," he muttered.ppp

"Liar."

"I’m serious. Work kinda killed my appetite."

He didn’t mention the stares. The heavy glances that felt like judgement. How he rushed to the back room every chance he got just to breathe. He didn’t say how much he hated clocking in, or how he counted the seconds to leave.

But somehow, Heeseung always got the point.

"You skip one more meal and I’m showing up to chew your food for you."

Sunoo let out a soft laugh, the kind he hadn’t felt like giving all evening. "Gross. But effective."

"I thought so."

Their conversation meandered—about class, about how Jungwon tripped into a bush after PE, about Jay's ongoing beef with vending machines.

Sunoo was still tired, but the weight on his shoulders didn't feel so sharp now.

Then Heeseung said something that made him slow down.

"You sound better."

"Huh?"

"Now. Talking like this. I don’t know… relaxed? Lighter, maybe. I like hearing you like this."

Sunoo didn’t answer right away. His fingers tightened around the strap of his bag.

"...Oh."

There was a soft laugh from Heeseung. "Sorry. Was that weird?"

"No," Sunoo murmured. "Just unexpected."

They stayed on the phone all the way until Sunoo reached the corner of his street. Neither of them really said they wanted to hang up—but they both heard it in each other’s voices.

When the call ended, Sunoo lingered at his gate, phone still in hand, screen still lit.

Maybe it was just the cold, but his ears burned for a long time after.

A message came through just as he was about to put it away.

Heeseung:

i meant it. eat something. and text me when you wake up.

You better sleep properly, Ill know if you don't.

He stared at it for a few seconds, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. He didn’t reply—not yet. But he left the message open longer than he needed to.

Inside his room, everything felt quieter than usual.

He peeled off his jacket, dropped his bag onto the floor, and fell back into bed. The ceiling stared blankly back at him, but his thoughts were anything but blank.

That call had caught him off guard.

He hadn’t expected the ease of their conversation. The sound of Heeseung’s voice in his ear felt… close. Steady. Like something solid to hold onto after a day that had left him unmoored.

And that last thing Heeseung said—it echoed more than it should have.

You sound better.

Sunoo buried half his face into his pillow.

Maybe it was embarrassing, but he didn’t feel like hiding how good it made him feel. Even if just quietly to himself.

He fell asleep with his phone beside him, and his heart just a little too full.

___

The next day at school, Sunoo felt oddly alert despite the lack of sleep. He hadn’t even woken up to his alarm—he’d woken up to the memory of Heeseung’s voice in his ear instead.

The halls were loud as always, students brushing past each other, some half-asleep, some overly awake. And somewhere in between all that noise, Sunoo spotted him.

Heeseung.

Leaning by the lockers, talking to Jay, laughing about something.

Sunoo slowed, adjusting the strap of his bag. He debated walking past unnoticed. He debated a lot of things.

But then Heeseung looked up. His eyes found Sunoo almost immediately, like he’d been waiting.

Heeseung gave him a small smile.

Nothing grand. Just a slight upturn of his lips.

But Sunoo felt it all the way in his chest.

"Yo," Heeseung greeted casually as Sunoo got closer. "You look like you actually slept."

"I didn’t," Sunoo replied without thinking, then paused. "I mean—not much."

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, amused. "Still. Looks like my call worked."

Sunoo huffed a soft laugh, gaze flickering to the floor. "You think too highly of yourself."

"Someone has to."

Jay made a noise beside them, but didn’t say anything. He just smirked and walked off, probably catching on.

And just like that, Heeseung fell into step beside Sunoo, the way he always did.

They walked toward class in that easy silence they were slowly getting used to. Until—

"Did you eat?" Heeseung asked quietly, just for him.

Sunoo hesitated. "I had bread at work this morning."

Heeseung glanced at him. "Just bread?"

"It was a big bread."

Heeseung didn’t look convinced, but he let it go. For now.

___

The end of the term was nearing, and with it, the air around school had started to shift. Winter break was just around the corner, and the usual strictness in the classroom had begun to loosen. Even the teachers, tired from the long semester and the recent wave of exams, had relaxed their rules bit by bit.

That included the seating arrangement.

Where they once sat in single rows—quiet, orderly, with little room for chatter—students were now allowed to choose deskmates. It wasn’t official, but no one had been told off for moving, and the teachers didn’t bother putting them back.

Sunoo had found himself seated next to Jungwon, who had casually dragged his chair over one morning without even asking. Jay sat right in front of Sunoo, always the first to turn around whenever something mildly interesting happened. And a little to the side, still within earshot, Ni-ki had ended up right in front of Jay—close enough to insert himself into any conversation if he wanted.

They were noisy. Unruly. Sometimes annoying.

But Sunoo didn’t really mind.

Later in class, Sunoo sat by the window, the sunlight warming the side of his face as he quietly took notes. His hand moved mechanically, but his mind kept wandering—flashing back to last night’s phone call, to the way Heeseung’s voice sounded softer than usual, to the way he’d laughed.

To the message that followed:

"You better sleep properly. I'll know if you don’t."

Sunoo had stared at it for way longer than he should’ve.

Across the room, Heeseung was seated near the right side of the class, somewhere in the third row from the back, talking lowly with Jake and Sunghoon. But every now and then, Sunoo could feel it—that strange heat on his skin.

He didn’t have to look to know.

Heeseung was staring again.

Sunoo chewed on the inside of his cheek, keeping his eyes on his notebook. He tried to ignore it.

But Jungwon nudged him lightly with his elbow. “You okay?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been writing the same word for, like… five times now,” Jungwon said, peeking at his notes. “You alright?”

“Oh.” Sunoo blinked down and realized he had indeed written photosynthesis over and over again. “Oops.”

Jay, who sat a row ahead, turned slightly in his seat and grinned. “Must be a really fascinating plant if it’s got you that distracted.”

Sunoo rolled his eyes, but his ears were already turning red.

Ni-ki, further down the row, mumbled something about “love-struck chlorophyll,” earning a quiet laugh from Jungwon.

"Whatever," Sunoo muttered, turning back to his notes.

He refused to look across the class again. Heeseung didn’t need to see how flustered he was.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of scribbled notes and stolen glances. Heeseung wasn’t acting strange, not really. If anything, he was the same. But Sunoo kept noticing things he didn’t before — how Heeseung glanced his way when he laughed at something Jay said, how his brows knit a little when Sunoo coughed quietly into his sleeve.

And it was driving Sunoo absolutely insane.

This unfamiliar feeling in his chest felt too weird.

By the time the bell rang for lunch, Sunoo was already worn out — not just physically, but mentally too. His mind had been replaying last night’s conversation on loop and now, Heeseung’s every move came with an imagined subtext.

But when the bell rang and students began shuffling around for lunch, Sunoo hesitated just a second longer before tidying his desk. As he turned his head, he dared a glance toward Heeseung’s side of the classroom.

And caught him.

Still looking.

This time, Heeseung didn’t look away. He just lifted a brow, casual, smug, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Sunoo scowled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

His heart, traitor that it was, had already picked up its pace. 

Jungwon nudged his elbow. “You’re spacing out again.”

“Huh? No, I’m—”

“Come on,” he cut in. “Jay and Ni-ki are waiting.”

Sunoo hesitated, then got up to follow. He glanced back at Heeseung seat and found him no longer there.

___

The cafeteria was already half-filled when Heeseung, Sunghoon, and Jake slid into their usual table. It was tucked in the corner by the windows — just far enough from the center to feel like theirs.

Heeseung set down his tray with practiced ease and sat without a word. Jake started chatting with Sunghoon about a P.E. assignment, but Heeseung just stirred the soup absentmindedly, eyes drifting toward the entrance every now and then.

A few minutes later, Jungwon appeared, trailed by Ni-ki, Jay, and Sunoo.

"There you guys are," Jake called, waving them over.

Jungwon plopped into his seat with a dramatic sigh. "We got stopped by our homeroom teacher."

"You got stopped," Jay corrected, dropping his tray. "We were innocent bystanders."

Sunoo slipped into the seat beside Heeseung, who barely glanced at him but pushed the tray a little toward the middle — like always.

Sunoo didn’t have his own tray. He never did.

Heeseung offered the spoon wordlessly. Their fingers brushed as Sunoo took it, the contact light but enough to make his ears burn.

He tried not to think about last night’s call. About the way Heeseung had told him the reason for the call. About the pause. The silence. The fact that Sunoo had replayed the entire thing in his head all morning like a loser.

He reached for a bit of banchan — the spicy fishcake strips — and accidentally knocked into Heeseung’s hand. Again.

"Sorry," Sunoo mumbled.

"You’re always sorry," Heeseung muttered back. But his tone wasn’t annoyed. It was… soft.

Jungwon, chewing his kimchi, squinted. "What’s with the air?"

Jay snorted. "You feel it too?"

Jake leaned in, eyes narrowed playfully. "I thought it was just me."

Ni-ki looked between Sunoo and Heeseung. "Why does it feel like they’re in their own drama right now?"

Sunoo froze, spoon halfway to his mouth.

"We’ve always shared food," Heeseung said flatly, like that explained everything.

"Yeah but you didn’t used to look at him like that," Jay said, smirking.

Sunghoon arched a brow. "Like what?"

"Like he’s the main character in your coming-of-age film," Jay replied.

"Oh my god," Ni-ki laughed.

"Eat your lunch," Heeseung said, not even looking up.

But Sunoo didn’t miss the way Heeseung’s ears had turned a little pink.

He kept his eyes on the tray and quietly chewed his rice, pretending his heartbeat wasn’t loud in his ears. Pretending that the half of the lunch Heeseung pushed toward him didn’t feel different somehow.

___

The bell had rung, but Sunoo lingered by the hallway window.

Class wouldn't start for another 20 minutes. The English teacher was always late and this time was the same.

He needed air.

He needed space from the stares, the teasing, the knowing smirks. He wasn’t used to it — people noticing. It made him feel seen in a way he didn’t know how to handle.

So he climbed the stairs.

Up past the third floor.

Then one more.

Until the rooftop door creaked open and sunlight spilled onto the dusty concrete.

The breeze hit him first — warm, then cool — brushing his hair and tugging gently at the hem of his uniform. He walked to the edge and gripped the railing, eyes cast out over the schoolyard below.

From up here, the noise faded.

He exhaled.

"Thought I’d find you here," a voice said behind him.

Sunoo spun, heart jumping.

Heeseung stood at the doorway, hands in his pockets. His tie was slightly loose, and the sun caught in his lashes as he stepped forward.

"You followed me?"

Heeseung shrugged. "You left kind of fast."

Sunoo turned back to the view. "I just needed a break."

"I figured." Heeseung came to stand beside him, resting his arms on the railing too. "The others were a bit much today."

Sunoo laughed under his breath. "You think?"

"They’re not wrong though."

Sunoo blinked. "About what?"

Heeseung didn’t answer right away. The wind ruffled both their sleeves.

Then Heeseung said quietly, "You look different lately."

Sunoo tensed.

"Not in a bad way," Heeseung added quickly. "I mean… I notice. That’s all."

Sunoo’s throat felt dry. "It’s just hair. And better sleep, I guess... And… stuff."

"I liked the way you were before too."

Sunoo’s breath caught. "What?"

"I mean—" Heeseung rubbed the back of his neck. "You don’t need to change anything. I think you're—"

He stopped himself.

The silence pressed between them, heavy and uncertain.

Sunoo looked at him, squinting slightly from the sun. "You think I’m what?"

Heeseung hesitated. Then glanced away.

But even without saying it, Sunoo could feel the weight of the words unsaid.

A soft wind danced past them again.

And for a second, neither of them moved — both rooted there, between what they were and whatever this was turning into.

Sunoo looked away first.

His fingers tightened around the railing, the sun warming his cheeks — or maybe that was just the heat rising under his skin.

"...Did you finish the math homework?" he asked suddenly, voice a little too bright.

Heeseung blinked. "Huh?"

Sunoo glanced up, feigning casual. "The graph question. I couldn’t get part (c). I think I did something wrong with the slope."

There was a pause — just long enough to feel it.

Then Heeseung let out a small laugh. Not mocking — almost relieved.

"You’re really going to change the subject like that?"

"I didn’t change anything," Sunoo said, not meeting his eyes.

Heeseung smiled softly. "Yeah, okay. The slope question, huh?"

He pulled out his phone and opened the homework photo he’d taken earlier. "I think it was just a trick. You had to subtract the points first."

Sunoo nodded, listening as Heeseung explained — grateful for the distraction, for the air slowly returning to his lungs.

And as they stood there side by side, talking about math like nothing had happened, a part of him still heard what hadn't been said.

But for now, it could wait.

As the wind picked up, Sunoo pulled his sleeves down further, tucking his hands into his sweater.

Heeseung glanced sideways at him. "Cold?"

Sunoo didn’t answer right away, just nodded slightly as his teeth grazed his lower lip — not from nervousness this time, but from the subtle sting of the breeze on his skin.

"It’s getting colder these days," he murmured.

Heeseung shifted closer, like instinct — not brushing against him, but just enough to block the wind a little. "Didn’t you bring your jacket?"

"I forgot," Sunoo said softly. "Again."

Heeseung smiled, that barely-there kind. "Of course you did."

Sunoo let out a faint laugh, then turned his face away from the wind.

"We should go back," he said finally. "I think the class is starting soon anyway."

Heeseung nodded, but he didn’t move just yet. His gaze lingered a little longer on Sunoo, something quiet flickering in his eyes.

"Yeah," he said after a beat. "Let’s go."

They walked down the stairs together — not touching, not talking — but something between them had changed. Not loud or obvious, but like the shift of light on snow.

Subtle. Real. Undeniable.

___

The classroom was already filled when Sunoo and Heeseung returned, the warmth inside a welcome contrast to the chill outside. They parted at the door with a quiet exchange of glances—nothing dramatic, but Sunoo’s fingers still tingled from the cold, or maybe from something else.

He slipped into his seat just as Jungwon turned around with a smirk already tugging at his lips.

"Rooftop, huh?" Jungwon leaned in, voice low but laced with mischief.

Jay raised a brow from his seat in front. "Took your time up there."

Ni-ki grinned without even looking up from his book. "Did you get lost on the way back or were you just too busy... enjoying the view?"

Sunoo felt his ears burn instantly. "It was cold," he mumbled, burying his hands into his sleeves again as he avoided their eyes.

"Ohh, I’m sure it was," Jay teased. "That’s why you were up there for so long, huh?"

"Didn’t know the rooftop had heaters now"” Jungwon added innocently.

Sunoo gave them a flat look, though his face was undeniably pink.

"I hate all of you,"he muttered under his breath.

"Love you too," Ni-ki sang, winking at him.

Meanwhile, across the room, Jake and Sunghoon said nothing—but they didn’t have to. Both of them exchanged the briefest glance with each other before looking at Heeseung, who was settling into his seat like nothing happened.

Heeseung didn’t say anything either, but the faintest smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he stared emptily.

And just like that, class resumed. But for some reason, the air felt a little different now.

Chapter Text

The store was quiet. Almost eerily so.

The ceiling lights buzzed faintly above Sunoo as he stood behind the counter, eyes dull and shoulders slumped with exhaustion. It was nearing midnight, and he was the only one left on shift. As usual.

He was reorganizing the notes in the money drawer when the complaint came in.

A woman stormed in, clutching a half-empty carton of milk, her face twisted in frustration. The bell above the door jingled sharply as she approached the counter. 

"This is expired! I gave it to my child this morning!" she snapped.

Sunoo froze.

For a moment, he didn’t even register her words. His heart sank when his eyes fell on the milk. It was from the batch he hadn’t rotated in time. The batch Jihwan had carelessly misstocked.

"I-I'm sorry," he managed to say, voice barely above a whisper.

The woman didn’t care. She ranted for another few minutes before storming out, leaving Sunoo standing at the counter, eyes downcast.

Not even ten minutes later, Jihwan came out from the back room, phone in hand, ready to go home but not without a smug expression playing on his lips.

"You should've done your job properly. Now look what you've caused," he said.

Sunoo didn’t answer. He knew arguing would be pointless.

From then on, things spiraled fast.

The store manager, who never really paid attention, called Sunoo in the next evening. Told him, flatly, that there had been too many "mistakes" lately. That the customer complaint was the final straw. That they needed someone more reliable.

Sunoo just stood there.

He didn't argue. Didn’t try to defend himself.

He simply stared, hollow-eyed, the weight of it all pressing down on him like a brick wall.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, voice trembling.

And that was it.

He left the store with slow, heavy steps. The air outside was damp and cool, the streets nearly empty, save for a few cars in the distance and the occasional flicker of neon signs. His bag felt unusually heavy on his back, his hands limp at his sides.

He didn’t know where he was walking until he found himself at the small park near his neighborhood. The swing set creaked gently as the wind passed, and he sank down onto one of the swings without a word.

He didn’t swing. Just sat there, head bowed.

He stared at the gravel beneath his shoes.

"What should I do now?" he whispered.

His voice cracked.

His hands trembled.

He bit his bottom lip until it hurt.

Tears blurred his vision and spilled quietly down his cheeks. He never cried. Never let himself cry.

But tonight, everything felt like too much.

Losing one job — when he was already barely surviving with three — felt like the beginning of the end.

And for the first time in a while, he felt truly alone.

___

The morning air bit colder than usual, brushing against the windows of the classroom. Even though the heaters were on, it didn’t feel warm.

He was there, in his seat, but his gaze stayed on his desk. Jungwon had tried asking if he was okay, Ni-ki tried nudging him playfully, Jay even placed a small packet of candy beside him — the one he usually liked.

But Sunoo’s smile never came.

His voice, when he did speak, was thin and distant.

Heeseung noticed, of course.

He watched Sunoo from the other side of the classroom, eyebrows furrowed. He wanted to say something — wanted to call him over like he always did.

But before he could, Sunoo slipped away.

He was quieter than usual, reserved. Every time Heeseung got close, Sunoo seemed to tense up, turning his body slightly away or pretending to be distracted. It wasn’t obvious enough to catch attention from the others, but Heeseung saw it.

He didn’t understand it.

During lunch, Heeseung caught up to him in the hallway, pulling lightly on his sleeve.

"Hey. What’s going on with you?"

Sunoo blinked, taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"You’ve been... off." Heeseung hesitated. "Did I do something?"

Sunoo quickly shook his head. "No, it’s not you."

But Heeseung could feel it — the distance, the coldness. And it gnawed at him.

The afternoon passed slowly. Sunoo barely spoke unless someone asked him something directly. His phone buzzed a few times in his pocket, but he didn’t check it. He couldn’t. His mind kept looping back to the night before, to the manager’s cold words, to the quiet walk home alone. To the way he felt so utterly disposable.

And worse, he couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d overheard at school days earlier.

“Seriously, how did he suddenly start hanging out with them?”

“Wasn’t he like, invisible last semester?”

“He’s so clingy with Heeseung. Kinda weird, right?”

He shouldn’t have heard it. He wished he hadn’t.

But he did. And it clung to him, whispering louder than anything else.

Was I really too much? Did I just imagine all the kindness? All the warmth? Was I reading into things?

He was already feeling like a burden — like an outsider who inserted himself into Heeseung’s world. And now, it felt confirmed. Heeseung probably felt the same way. Sunoo didn’t belong.

So he distanced himself. He couldn’t bear the thought of being told directly to leave.

Later that day, in a quiet moment when the others weren’t around, Heeseung let his frustration slip.

"You’re always avoiding me these days," he said. "You act like you're not, but you are."

Sunoo looked at him, surprised.

"I’m not avoiding you," he said softly.

Heeseung crossed his arms, trying to stay calm.

"You sure? Because it feels like you are. And honestly… you've been acting like you don't even want to be around me anymore."

Sunoo opened his mouth but couldn't form a reply. His throat tightened.

And then Heeseung added — not coldly, but with a confused hurt that stung more than anger would have.

"Maybe I misread things. I thought we were… close. But maybe I was just imagining it."

Sunoo’s heart dropped.

He opened his mouth to say something. Anything.

But no words came out.

Heeseung gave him a short nod, not meeting his eyes, and turned away.

___

That evening, Sunoo lay in bed with his phone resting on his chest, the screen still lit with unread messages.

Jay had sent a meme.

Ni-ki had asked if he wanted to game later.

Jungwon sent a simple: "You okay?"

And from Heeseung — nothing.

The usual chaotic group chat, the one Sunoo hadn’t even realized he’d been added to until weeks after it started, was oddly quiet that day. Aside from a few exchanges between Jay and Jake bickering like they always did, the chat lacked its usual flood of chaotic energy. No dumb jokes from Jungwon. No random polls from Ni-ki. No photos of lunch or blurry selfies of Sunghoon's forehead. And Sunoo — even though he rarely replied — hadn’t even reacted to the messages like he always did.

He had all the time in the world now, since he’d lost one of his jobs earlier that day. You’d think that would mean a bit more rest, a bit more peace.

But no. It just felt like the world was giving up on him.

He stared at the last message Heeseung had sent the day before — just a casual "did you eat?" like always. He hadn’t realized how much he waited for those messages, how much he’d gotten used to them. How much he hoped for them.

But tonight, there was nothing.

Sunoo turned the screen off and let the darkness settle around him.

He buried his face into his pillow, lips trembling, eyes heavy.

Everything was slipping through his fingers — his job, his peace, and now maybe even the only people who made school feel a little less lonely.

___

The cafeteria was lively, just like every lunch break.

But at one particular table, there was a noticeable gap. A gap where Sunoo used to sit.

He hadn’t joined them for lunch in almost a week.

Ever since that conversation with Heeseung—where everything just felt too exposed, too raw—Sunoo had done everything he could to avoid being around them during break. Especially Heeseung. How could he sit there like nothing happened? Like he wasn’t sharing meals he didn’t even pay for. Like they hadn’t just misunderstood each other into silence.

He had stopped sitting at their table entirely.

"Sunoo's in the library today," Jake said casually, like it wasn’t the fourth day in a row they’d eaten without him.

"Nah, he’s in class. Said he needed to catch up on sleep," Ni-ki cut in, not even looking up from his phone.

"He told me he's helping a teacher today," Jungwon said slowly, raising a brow. "Wait—"

They all fell silent for a second, the realization sinking in.

"Man’s got more excuses than Jay hyung has sneakers," Ni-ki muttered, stabbing at his rice with a half-hearted grunt.

"Maybe he’s secretly studying to take over Jungwon’s spot as top student," Jay offered, leaning back in his seat with a smirk.

Jungwon rolled his eyes, "I’d like to see him try."

"Maybe he’s avoiding us," Ni-ki muttered, stabbing his chopsticks into his rice. The table went quiet for a beat too long.

"I don’t think he’s avoiding us," Sunghoon added, finally joining the conversation. "I mean… he’s not the ‘I hate you all’ type." He paused, then added with an awkward grin, "Unless someone made him eat pineapple pizza."

Everyone ignored his dad joke. As usual.

Jay squinted at him.

"Bro."

"Just trying to lighten the mood," Sunghoon mumbled, poking at his food.

From the second floor, through the wide-open left-side entrance of the cafeteria, Sunoo sat at a desk near the library hall, facing the window that overlooked the courtyard—and the cafeteria. He could see them clearly from there. Jake’s exaggerated hand movements. Jay throwing his head back in a laugh. Ni-ki shoving food in his mouth like it owed him money. Sunghoon saying something that made the others groan. Jungwon shaking his head. And Heeseung…

Heeseung was quieter. Eating, listening. Not laughing as loudly as usual.

Sunoo tore his eyes away.

He didn’t even know why he still checked.

Maybe some part of him was waiting for things to go back to normal. But what was normal anyway? He was never even supposed to be there. They were six. They had always been six. He was just… an extra. A quiet seat-filler who somehow got added into their chaotic bubble. Nothing about it felt natural. His being there always felt borrowed. Temporary.

His stomach growled. He didn’t bring anything for lunch. Couldn’t, really. Not without the school meal plan. And even if he could, you weren’t allowed to bring food into the library. Not that he ever dared to sneak it.

Sunoo realized that his body seemed to be getting used to eating lunch now. And that honestly felt strange. He was used to the usual not eating. 

He scrolled through his phone, notifications sitting unread.

Jay:

bring ur pretty face to lunch bruh

Ni-ki:

r u dead

Jake:

if u skip lunch again i’m gonna drag u here

Sunoo stared at the messages.

He didn’t reply.

He didn’t even leave a reaction, like he usually did.

He just turned off the screen and slipped the phone into his pocket.

From the cafeteria below, laughter echoed again. Or maybe it just seemed louder than it was.

___

Heeseung noticed it before anyone else did.

The empty seat at lunch.

At first, he didn’t think much of it. Sunoo was quiet. He liked keeping to himself sometimes. Maybe he was napping in class again, curled up in his hoodie, earbuds in, pretending he couldn’t hear the bell. Heeseung had seen it more than once.

But when the second day rolled around and the same seat was still empty, something felt… wrong.

It kept happening. Again and again. Sunoo never showed up.

And Heeseung noticed that no one else brought it up the way he wanted them to. Not really. They all said something—Jake guessed he was busy, Jay joked that he was trying to beat Jungwon's grades, Ni-ki acted annoyed—but no one really asked. Maybe because they didn’t see it the way Heeseung did.

How he’d always wait for Heeseung to finish half his tray, then shyly accept the rest. Sometimes he refused. Said he wasn’t hungry. But Heeseung knew better. He’d push the plate closer, tell him to eat up. "You’ll faint if you keep skipping meals," he'd say like it was nothing. Like it didn’t hurt to see someone flinch over free food.

Heeseung didn’t mind sharing. Never had. But Sunoo—he always looked like he did. Like he didn’t deserve it. Like every bite came with a side of guilt.

The last time they ate together, Heeseung had caught him staring at his half-finished rice.

So he’d said,

"Just eat it."

Sunoo had looked up, blinking. "Huh?"

"I’m full. Just eat it."

"You didn’t even touch the kimchi—"

"I don’t like kimchi."

"You literally ate like six of them yesterday."

"Okay, I don’t like them today."

Heeseung pushed the tray toward him.

"Don’t be annoying. Just eat."

Sunoo had hesitated. Then picked up his chopsticks. Heeseung had smiled to himself, just a little.

Heeseung thought about that now as he sat with the others, listening half-heartedly to Jay argue with Ni-ki over how to correctly use chopsticks. He heard Sunghoon crack another terrible joke no one laughed at, Jake yelling "I LOVE SOUP" for no reason, and Jungwon sigh like a tired dad.

Sunghoon waved his spoon around.

"You know," he said with a completely serious face, "if I ever open a restaurant, I’m naming it ‘Fork You.’"

There was silence.

Jay stared at him. "What?"

"Because we won’t have forks. Only chopsticks."

"God help you."

Heeseung didn’t laugh. Normally he would. He didn’t even look up.

He glanced to his side.

Still empty.

His tray looked fuller than usual.

He wasn’t even hungry.

He looked toward the side entrance of the cafeteria—left side, where the doors were always left open to let in the breeze. From where they sat, they had a perfect view of the hallway outside the library.

And sitting by the window was Sunoo.

Back straight. Head bowed. Eyes fixed on his phone. 

And just for a second, Heeseung felt that dull ache again. That weird, wordless thing lodged behind his ribs that wouldn’t leave him alone.

He hated this.

The not knowing.

The distance that felt like it was fading just a few weeks ago—when Sunoo started laughing at their jokes, when he didn’t flinch anymore when Heeseung brushed past his shoulder, when he actually smiled, even if only a little—was it all in his head?

Had he misunderstood?

Did he just imagine that the gap was shrinking between them?

Was this just... normal for Sunoo? Was Heeseung reading too much into it? Caring too much?

He didn’t know. And it was eating him up from the inside.

He looked down at his tray, then back up again.

Sunoo had already moved away.

___

It happened during Music class.

"Partner up," the teacher said, tapping her folder against her palm. "You’ll be working in pairs for the next two weeks. One composition. One performance. I don’t care how you divide the work, but I do expect both of your names on the final product."

Chairs scraped. A quiet stir passed through the room as students shifted, glanced around, whispered names.

Heeseung stayed still.

He had a feeling.

He didn’t know why, but he had a feeling.

"Jake, with Jungwon," the teacher called out. "Jay with Riki. Sunghoon, you’re with…" She paused to flip her notes. "Yunjin."

Heeseung watched as pairs began forming. Some excited, some reluctant. He hadn’t moved yet.

And then—

"Kim Sunoo with Lee Heeseung."

There it was.

Heeseung blinked.

He heard Ni-ki immediately go "oooh" from across the class. Jay raised his brow slightly. Jungwon pretended not to hear it but clearly did.

Jake glanced toward Heeseung, the corner of his mouth twitching into something small and knowing.

Heeseung didn’t react.

He just looked across the room.

And saw Sunoo stiffen.

It was subtle, but it was there—the way his shoulders locked in place, the way his lips pressed together, how his eyes darted toward the window for a second before turning to the front.

Heeseung’s heart sank a little.

Sunoo stood. Slowly made his way over, not looking at him.

Heeseung didn’t move until he was close enough to speak.

"You okay with this?"

Sunoo blinked at him.

A pause.

Then a nod.

"Yeah," he said, his voice neutral.

And that was it.

Heeseung didn’t say anything else. Neither did Sunoo. They took their seats at the back of the class as the teacher continued going over the assignment.

But Heeseung couldn’t focus.

Sunoo sat beside him but felt a thousand miles away.

Heeseung hated how used to this he was starting to feel.

He hated how, even now, part of him still held onto the stupid hope that maybe—just maybe—Sunoo would look at him and say something normal. Something small. Something like, "This is going to be my breakthrough in music." Or "Don’t mess this up, Lee Heeseung."

Anything.

But Sunoo said nothing.

And Heeseung… didn’t know what that meant anymore.

___

Heeseung didn’t plan to walk this way.

Or maybe he did.

Maybe he always did.

The convenience store sat at the corner of the street just past the stoplight—its bright signage always glowing a little too harsh under the evening sky, the glass windows sometimes fogging up when it rained.

And it was where Sunoo worked.

Heeseung told himself it was just habit. That he was only passing by. That he wasn’t looking for anything.

But every time, his steps slowed just a little. Just enough for him to glance in without seeming too obvious. Just enough to catch a glimpse of the familiar dark brown hair behind the counter, the quiet nod Sunoo always gave customers, the way he tapped his fingers on the scanner when bored.

Heeseung never went in.

Never had to.

Just seeing Sunoo through the glass was enough.

But tonight, there was no Sunoo.

The lights were on. The doors slid open with the usual chime when someone left. But behind the counter—someone else.

Not him.

Heeseung frowned.

Sunoo didn’t skip shifts. Not unless he was seriously ill or dragged away by some emergency—which Heeseung knew never happened, because Sunoo was the emergency.

Still, maybe he was just late.

Or maybe…

Heeseung didn’t like the itch of concern crawling under his skin.

So he did what came naturally.

He walked inside.

The cold air hit him instantly. Bright fluorescent lights. Aisles of snacks and cup ramen. The familiar quiet buzz of the fridge in the back.

Heeseung grabbed a random drink from the cooler. He didn’t even look at what it was.

When he reached the counter, the guy behind the register barely looked up.

Heeseung knew that face.

Jihwan. Sunoo's senior colleague. Same guy who used to bark orders at Sunoo during his shifts. Always making him do the heavier lifting. Always acting like he owned the place.

Heeseung placed the drink on the counter.

Jihwan finally looked at him. Squinted. Didn’t recognize him, clearly.

Heeseung didn’t care.

"Is Sunoo working today?" he asked.

Jihwan blinked. Then raised an eyebrow like Heeseung had just spoken in another language.

"Who’re you?"

Heeseung frowned. "Just asked a question."

Jihwan let out a short, dry snicker. "That guy? He’s not working anymore."

Heeseung’s fingers twitched.

"…What do you mean?"

"Fired," Jihwan said bluntly, already scanning the drink. "Thought it was obvious. I saw it coming for a while, to be honest. He was unreliable. Always zoning out. Slow. Sometimes too nice to the wrong customers. Couldn’t take anything seriously."

Heeseung felt the heat rise under his skin.

Jihwan kept going. "Told the manager months ago he was a bad hire. Guess they finally figured it out."

There was a beat of silence.

Then Heeseung said, "You’re an asshole."

Jihwan looked up, startled.

"You really think bossing people around makes you better? All you ever did was throw work at him and stand there like you owned the store."

"What the—"

"You’re lucky Sunoo didn’t slap you upside the head. I would’ve."

Jihwan stared at him, stunned.

Color rose to his cheeks, whether from anger or embarrassment, Heeseung didn’t know.

Didn’t care.

He dropped a few coins on the counter, grabbed the drink without waiting for change, and walked out.

The chime above the door sounded behind him, but the cold outside didn’t sting as much as it should’ve.

He didn’t even like the drink in his hand.

Heeseung shoved it into his jacket pocket as he kept walking.

Sunoo got fired.

Fired.

It didn’t make sense. That wasn’t like him. Heeseung knew how much that job meant to Sunoo. He took pride in it. Said once that it gave him a routine. A reason to keep moving.

And now—

Heeseung stared down at the sidewalk, his jaw tight.

He wanted to believe there was more to the story. That there had to be some mistake. That maybe Sunoo quit instead. Maybe he just hadn’t wanted to say anything.

But Heeseung had this feeling.

The kind he’d been trying to ignore for weeks.

And he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep pretending otherwise.

___

His fingers twitched slightly in his jacket pocket, where his phone rested. He wasn’t someone who texted first, not often. But right now, that didn’t seem to matter.

He pulled his phone out.

His thumb hovered above Sunoo’s contact for a second before he tapped it.

The typing bar blinked back at him.

Then, almost on instinct, he typed:

Heeseung:

u still like those mint chocolate ice cream sandwiches?

It wasn’t anything deep. Just something... familiar. Something he would’ve asked a week ago, when things felt easier. When Sunoo hadn’t gone invisible.

Heeseung knew that it must've been dumb of him to start a conversation with someone he hadn't talked to for almost a week like that.

Heeseung stared at the screen for a while, unsure if the message would even be read.

Then, minutes later, three dots blinked into existence.

Sunoo had been lying down in his room, his blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon. He hadn’t planned on doing anything after clocking out of his work at the restaurant. Just sleeping, maybe — or thinking. Mostly thinking.

The sudden vibration of his phone on the side table pulled him out of that haze.

He blinked at the screen.

Heeseung?

His heart skipped a beat.

He rubbed at his eyes, sat up slowly, and read the message again, as if making sure it was real.

"u still like those mint chocolate ice cream sandwiches?"

The corner of his mouth tugged upwards, very slightly.

He stared at it for a full minute before finally replying:

Sunoo:

i do

Short. Bare. But it was enough.

And not even a minute passed before Heeseung’s reply came through:

Heeseung:

meet me

Heeseung:

somewhere close. u choose

And don't bother giving me excuses, if you do I'll chase you down tomorrow at school.

Sunoo blinked.

Meet?

He glanced at the time. Late, but not too late. He hesitated. For once, he didn’t know what the right choice was.

But he typed anyway.

Sunoo:

there's a park near my house

Sunoo:

it’s quiet around this hour

*Sunoo shared a location*

He didn’t add anything else.

Didn’t need to.

He placed the phone down on the bed, and stared at the ceiling, unsure of what he had just agreed to.

Meanwhile, Heeseung was already turning on his heel, walking away from the convenience store, the forgotten drink still in his jacket pocket, a silent urgency in every step.

He didn’t know what he was going to say yet.

But he knew he had to see Sunoo.That something was wrong.

Chapter Text

The night had settled deep over the neighborhood, thick and quiet. The air was sharp with the bite of early winter, nipping at any skin left uncovered. Breath hung visible in the dim light, curling like smoke before vanishing into the dark.

Sunoo sat alone on the swing, his gloved hands tucked in his coat pockets, the frozen chains creaking faintly whenever he shifted. The ground beneath was hard with frost, crunching softly whenever his boots scuffed the dirt.

The park was almost eerily still — no wind, no rustle of leaves, just the distant hum of traffic from somewhere far away. The faint yellow light from the streetlamp above cast a halo over the swing set, painting Sunoo in pale gold while the rest of the world stayed in shadow.

He wasn’t sure why he’d come.

A muffled rhythm of footsteps reached his ears — quick, uneven, like someone half-running. He looked up just in time to see Heeseung emerge from the darker path, his breath coming in small puffs. A plastic convenience store bag swung from his hand, the crinkle of it cutting through the stillness.

He stopped a few feet away, chest rising and falling from his light jog.

They just… looked at each other for a moment.

“…So… why do you want to meet?” Sunoo broke the silence first, his voice barely above a whisper. It was the kind of voice he’d used before Heeseung ever decided to talk to him — quiet, hesitant, careful.

Heeseung noticed. He didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he let out a small, nervous chuckle, glancing down at the bag in his hand like he’d just remembered it was there.

“Oh, right—uh…” He pulled out a familiar pale-green wrapper and held it toward Sunoo. “Here. Mint choco ice cream sandwich. I know it’s a stupid decision to buy ice cream when it’s almost winter, but—” he scratched the back of his neck, eyes darting away for a second, “I hope you’re fine with it. I mean, you said you still liked it, and, well, I figured… why not, right? Or maybe it is a dumb idea—”

Sunoo blinked at him. Heeseung… rambling? It was strange — and almost funny — seeing someone who usually seemed so composed stumble over his own words.

“It’s okay,” Sunoo said, taking the ice cream from his hand. “Ice cream is always better in winter.”

That earned him a faint, almost relieved smile.

For a while, there was only the sound of wrappers crinkling as they unwrapped their sweets, the distant hum of a streetlight buzzing overhead. The cold air made the ice cream firmer than usual, but Sunoo didn’t mind.

It was Heeseung who broke the silence next.

“I went to the convenience store earlier,” he started, his tone slow, deliberate. “And that asshole—Jinhwan—said you don’t work there anymore.”

Sunoo’s grip on the ice cream tightened slightly. He shifted in his seat, eyes dropping to the ground. “…I got fired.”

Heeseung watched him for a moment before asking gently, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Sunoo shook his head.

“I’ve noticed you haven’t been eating with us,” Heeseung continued, his voice quiet but searching. “Or you just… avoid us altogether. Did I… do something wrong?”

Sunoo’s head moved in a quick shake. “No, you didn’t. No one did.”

“Then why?” Heeseung’s tone softened further, as though each word was being weighed, careful not to press too hard.

Sunoo stared at the ice cream in his hands, voice barely above a murmur. “It’s nothing really. Just me being selfish.”

He paused, swallowing before adding, “I’m letting my insecurity consume me. I know it. But I can’t help it. I’ve always known I’m… a no one, and I was fine with it. But then you, you guys… Came along and made me feel like I’ve never felt before. I wanted friends for once, but I couldn’t stop thinking… I’m probably just a temporary filler in your group. Like what they said. And it hurts. I know I should be grateful you even let me join you, but-”

“Wait, wait—” Heeseung cut in, leaning slightly forward. “Why do you think you’re a temporary filler? Who the hell said that?” His voice was edged with anger, but his eyes still held nothing but concern.

Sunoo’s lips pressed together. He’d said too much. “It’s not important.”

“Who, Sunoo?” Heeseung pressed, more firmly this time.

He stepped closer, and the swing beneath Sunoo stilled completely. From where he sat, Heeseung’s figure seemed to block out the lamplight, tall and unshakable.

Sunoo’s stomach flipped from the lack of distance. He turned his head to the side, avoiding Heeseung’s gaze. “…Just some people.”

A quiet sigh escaped Heeseung. “…Sunoo. Look at me.”

Slowly, Sunoo raised his head.

Heeseung’s chest tightened at the sight of those star-filled eyes already brimming with tears. His voice stayed steady, even though his heart wasn’t. “You were never a temporary addition to the group. I became friends with you because I wanted to. Not because anyone made me. The others like you too — hell, they looked like lost puppies the whole week you didn’t eat with us. 

I probably looked worse, but that’s not the point. The point is, we want you there. We’re glad you’re part of us. Don’t believe what those people say. I know it’s only been two months, but you’ve become someone I’m really… fond of. They don’t know anything about you.”

By the time he finished, Sunoo’s tears were already falling freely, warm trails against his cold cheeks. A mix of relief, shame, and gratitude swirled in his chest until it was almost too much to hold. How foolish he’d been, shutting them out — shutting him out.

Heeseung’s hand moved before he could think, brushing at the tears on Sunoo’s face. But the touch only seemed to bring more. Something in him shifted, and instead of pulling away, he leaned down and wrapped his arms around Sunoo.

Sunoo’s face pressed into his stomach, his grip hesitant before it clung to Heeseung’s coat. The warmth seeped in, making the night air feel a little less sharp.

He cried harder, quietly, until his breaths came in small, hiccupped gasps.

When he finally pulled back, his face flushed, he mumbled, “Sorry… I probably got snot all over your hoodie.”

That made Heeseung laugh — an unguarded, warm sound that made the corners of Sunoo’s mouth twitch despite himself.

“This Monday you better not avoid us,” Heeseung said once his laughter faded, though his tone was still light. “School’s almost over in two weeks, and I don’t want us to not talk for the whole winter. They’ll probably bombard you with questions, but just bear with it.”

Sunoo huffed out a quiet laugh at that, the sound small but genuine. “It’s okay. I get it. I deserve that much.”

It wasn’t until the laughter faded that they both realized what had happened — and the closeness they were still standing in. Heat rushed to both their faces, though neither moved back right away.

Not everything could change overnight. But tonight, Sunoo learned at least one thing: he wasn’t unwanted. Not by his friends. And definitely not by Heeseung.

_____

Monday morning came colder than Sunoo expected, the kind of crisp air that clung to your lungs when you breathed in. His hands were tucked deep into his coat pockets as he stood in front of the school gates, letting the steady trickle of students pass by.

Heeseung’s words from Saturday night replayed in his head like a quiet chant. ‘Don’t avoid us. School’s almost over in two weeks.’

Sunoo drew in a slow breath. He could do this. Even if they were upset with him for disappearing, even if they wanted answers… he could handle it.

The walk to his classroom felt longer than usual. He reached for the door handle, pausing for a moment to quietly tell himself, Just… don’t run away this time.

When he slid the door open, the usual hum of voices filled the air. The group was gathered by the row of desks near the window — between where he sat with Jungwon and where Jay sat with Ni-ki. The same spot they always seemed to gravitate to.

He didn't even notice Ni-ki had changed places with Jay’s seatmate and was now sitting next to Jay instead of in front of Jay.

Except, for the past week, Sunoo hadn’t been there to see it.

Several heads turned when he stepped inside. Conversation stilled for a moment. Heeseung was leaning casually against Jay’s desk, but Sunoo caught the small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Sunoo walked to his seat by the window, setting his bag down a little too carefully. His fingers tightened around the hem of his blazer as he sat. “…Hi,” he murmured, his voice catching.

The silence stretched, heavy with something unspoken. Sunoo exhaled softly and added, “I’m sorry for—”

“Sunoo hyunggg!”

Jungwon’s whine cut him off as the younger all but launched himself across their shared desk, arms wrapping around Sunoo in a sudden hug.

Sunoo froze, blinking down at him, before darting a quick glance at Heeseung. Heeseung just shrugged with a quiet chuckle, like he’d seen this coming from a mile away.

“Why did you avoid us?” Jungwon’s voice was muffled against Sunoo’s shoulder, but his pout was evident when he pulled back to look up at him. “I sit right next to you and I still barely heard a word all week — except for your lame excuses to not eat with us.”

Before Sunoo could reply, Ni-ki leaned forward from his seat in front. “I was this close to starting a full-on investigation about it. Or, y’know, just storming your house.”

That earned a laugh from Sunoo — the first genuine one in days — and a ripple of chuckles from the rest.

“I’m sorry,” Sunoo said, shaking his head, guilt tugging at his chest. “I was just… having a hard time. And it was stupid of me to avoid you guys.” His gaze dropped to the desk.

From the other side, Jake slid off the windowsill and crossed the narrow space between desks, throwing his arms around Sunoo in a firm hug. “You know you can tell us anything, right?” he said into Sunoo’s ear.

Jay, still perched at his seat, nodded. “Yeah. And if someone is bothering you, I can always accidentally drop my pen under their desk and then—” He made a vague, almost cartoonish “smash” gesture with his hand, earning a burst of laughter from Sunoo.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes from where he sat beside Heeseung. “Real subtle, Jay.”

Before Sunoo could say anything else, Heeseung reached over, grabbing Jake’s shoulder to pull him away — whether out of jealousy or something else entirely, Sunoo couldn’t tell.

“I know that now,” Sunoo said, smiling faintly. “Thanks… for not getting mad at me.”

Ni-ki scoffed. “Oh, we were gonna get mad.”

Sunoo blinked at him.

“But then someone,” Ni-ki continued, whipping out his phone and shoving it toward Sunoo’s face, “sent us a very convincing message telling us not to ‘let our emotions get the better of us.’” His tone shifted into a mock impression. “‘A.K.A — don’t you dare get mad at Kim Sunoo.’”

On the screen was the chat, timestamped Saturday night. The sender’s name was unmistakable.

Sunoo’s ears went warm almost instantly. “You… did that?” he asked, looking over at Heeseung.

Heeseung groaned, reaching for the phone. “Ni-ki, give me that—”

Ni-ki jerked his arm back with a grin. “Too slow.”

Sunoo’s eyes dropped to his desk again, a small smile curling at his lips. “…Thank you.”

Heeseung cleared his throat, glancing away. “I-it’s nothing.”

That only prompted an immediate chorus of teasing from the others — a mix of whistles, “Ooooh”s, and snickering.

Sunoo could only shake his head, laughing quietly into his sleeve. For the first time in over a week, the weight on his chest felt lighter. The warmth of the group — his friends — settled around him like sunlight breaking through the winter cold.

____

Music class had barely started when their teacher clapped her hands for attention.

"Alright, everyone. For your end-of-semester music project, I I've already assigned each of you a partner in the previous class. You’ll have until the last week of school before the winter holiday to complete it. Now, sit with your partners and you can continue discussing your project."

Chairs scraped against the floor as the class shuffled around. Sunoo stood, books and his pencil case in his hands, and crossed the room to where Heeseung was seated. Sunghoon was already halfway out of his chair, exchanging a quick smile with Sunoo before heading off to sit with Yunjin.

Sliding into Sunghoon’s vacated seat, Sunoo set his bag down and turned slightly toward Heeseung. The proximity caught him off guard—closer than he’d expected. Their knees brushed under the desk, and Sunoo quickly adjusted his posture, pretending to smooth out his sleeve.

Heeseung leaned in a fraction to be heard over the noise in the room, his voice steady and low. “I’ve actually got a melody in mind already. Been playing around with it for a while.”

“Oh?” Sunoo tilted his head, interest lighting up his features. “What kind of vibe are you thinking?”

“Something… mellow. Not too slow, but with a warmth to it. I was hoping we could shape the lyrics together so it feels more personal.”

Sunoo nodded, his fingers tapping absently against the desk. “Yeah, I think I can work with that. So you’ll handle the melody, and we’ll work on the lyrics together?”

“That’s the plan.” Heeseung’s mouth curved into a small smile, his gaze briefly flicking to Sunoo’s before shifting back to the notebook in front of him. He seemed relaxed, but there was a certain deliberateness in the way he kept his movements measured—subtle enough that Sunoo almost missed it.

Sunoo was less discreet. His eyes kept darting away and back again, aware of how close their shoulders were. It was fine, he told himself, but he could still feel the heat of the space between them.

“Why not come to my place after your shift at the restaurant tomorrow?” Heeseung said after jotting down a few notes. “We can work some things out—if you’re not too tired.”

Sunoo blinked at him, a little caught off guard. “Yeah, I definitely have some free time tomorrow. Not like I have work anymore after that…” His voice trailed off, the implication of the convenience store still hanging in the air.

Heeseung’s gaze softened. “Don’t dwell too long on that. I just know you weren’t at fault for whatever you were fired for.”

Sunoo’s lips quivered into a small smile at the quiet reassurance. “Thanks.”

They spent the rest of the period tossing ideas back and forth, the initial awkwardness fading into a steady rhythm of conversation—until the bell rang, breaking the bubble they’d somehow settled into.

____

By the time Sunoo reached their usual lunch table—tucked beside the side doors that opened out to the yard—the rest of them were already settling in. The smell of warm food mingled with the faint scent of fresh winter air drifting in through the slightly ajar doors.

Jay looked up as Sunoo approached, holding out a small container like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Leftovers,” he said casually.

Sunoo accepted it with ease, just like he always did. The others thought Jay should just stop claiming it as leftovers and just admit that he made the extra time to cook or bake for Sunoo.

“Thanks.” He didn’t call him out. He never did. Jay’s “leftovers” were always fresh, always neatly packed, and never looked like they’d seen the inside of a refrigerator. But it wasn’t out of pity—Sunoo could tell. It was just… Jay being Jay.

Heeseung nudged his own tray closer to Sunoo, and Sunoo set Jay’s container down beside it. The easy way they settled side by side again made Sunoo’s chest feel lighter than it had in weeks.

“Ni-ki!” Jungwon’s voice cut through his thoughts, and Sunoo turned just in time to see Jungwon and Ni-ki standing at the edge of the table, glaring at each other.

“I’m sitting next to Sunoo hyung today,” Jungwon declared, already stepping forward.

“Nope,” Ni-ki said flatly, moving to cut him off. “It’s my turn.”

“My turn. Hyung card.” Jungwon folded his arms.

Ni-ki smirked. “Taller than you card.”

“That doesn’t even make sense—”

“I’ll make it make sense,” Ni-ki said, leaning forward like it was a threat.

Jungwon narrowed his eyes. “If you don’t back down, I’m telling the student council about your untucked shirt and undone tie.”

Ni-ki raised his eyebrows, “Like they didn't already know?”

Before Sunoo could step in, Jungwon slapped his hands on the table. “Rock, paper, scissors.”

Two quick rounds later, Ni-ki threw his arms up in triumph. “Seat’s mine.”

Jungwon groaned and sank into the opposite side of the table, muttering under his breath about ‘rigged games.’ Ni-ki plopped down beside Sunoo with a satisfied grin, sticking his tongue out at Jungwon for good measure.

The older hyungs just watched, grinning into their trays.

Sunoo felt his cheeks warm under the sudden focus. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“You missed this,” Ni-ki said simply, already picking up his chopsticks.

“Yeah,” Sunoo admitted softly. “I did.”

The lunch conversation turned easy after that. Sunghoon launched into one of his infamous dad jokes mid-meal. “So, a piece of sheet music walks into a bar, right? And the bartender says, ‘Sorry, we don’t serve minors.’”

There was a beat of silence before Jake groaned and smacked Sunghoon on the back. “Why are you like this?”

“It’s genius,” Sunghoon said proudly.

Jake reached across the table, aiming for a piece of grilled meat on Sunghoon’s tray.

“Hands off!” Sunghoon swatted him away.

“What? Sharing is caring.” Jake tried again, this time going for Jay’s food.

“Jake, I swear—” Jay angled his tray out of reach.

“Fine,” Jake muttered, sitting back. “You’re all heartless.”

“You’re all hungry, you mean,” Sunghoon shot back, earning a few chuckles.

Through all the noise, Sunoo found himself smiling without even realizing it. These little moments—the overlapping voices, the light jabs, the easy rhythm of their banter—were what he’d almost walked away from.

At some point, Jungwon started eating faster than usual, shoveling rice into his mouth. When Jake asked why, Jungwon swallowed and sighed dramatically. “Student council meeting. I really hope I don’t need to count more chalks today. They’d be the death of me. I still get nightmares from them.”

Ni-ki snorted. “Nightmares about chalk?”

Jungwon sent him a glare. “You don’t understand. They multiply when you’re not looking.”

He pulled a face so strange that Sunoo blinked, momentarily unsure if a human face was even supposed to move like that.

“Don’t get caught daydreaming about chalk dust again,” Jay warned with mock seriousness.

“Not funny,” Jungwon said through another bite, then downed the rest of his soup in one go before rushing off with a quick wave.

What Sunoo didn’t notice, as he laughed at Ni-ki’s last-minute complaint about dessert portions, was Heeseung’s gaze flicking to him again and again, lingering just a little too long each time. His bambi eyes traced the delicate lines of Sunoo’s face, his fox-like eyes, the pale smoothness of his skin, and—much to his own surprise—his gaze dropped to the soft curve of Sunoo’s plump lips. 

Heeseung mentally slapped himself and cleared his throat, pushing a few more side dishes toward Sunoo’s side of their shared tray as a distraction from his thoughts. Sunoo glanced at him in mild surprise but accepted it with a grateful smile.

The group drifted back into easy conversation until the bell rang, trays scraping as they gathered up their things.

____

Sunoo lay sprawled across his bed, school uniform still clinging to him like a stubborn reminder of the day. His hair was slightly mussed, a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead from the dinner rush at the restaurant. His legs ached, his back ached, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually sat down in the past four hours.

The muffled hum of cars outside his apartment window was almost enough to lull him into a nap when his phone buzzed on the pillow beside him.

Heeseung:

What time do you finish your shift?

Sunoo blinked at the message, thumbs slow to move as his mind fought through the haze of exhaustion.

Sunoo:

Around 7:30. Why?

The reply came fast.

Heeseung:

Was wondering if you wanna come straight to my place tomorrow or head home first.

We’re still working on the project, right?

Sunoo read the message twice, his brain momentarily misfiring at the casual ‘my place.’ He quickly shook it off.

Sunoo:

I’ll just go straight to yours. If I go home first and see my bed…

I’m not leaving.

A second later, a sticker popped up — a cartoon bear dramatically falling onto a bed with a thud.

Heeseung:

Like this? 

Sunoo bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too much.

Sunoo:

Yeah. Exactly that.

Heeseung:

Good. Saves me the trouble of dragging you out of your cave.

Sunoo:

Excuse me? My place is not a cave.

Heeseung:

Sure. But you do have cave-dweller energy.

You even hiss at sunlight sometimes.

Sunoo stared at the words, his mouth opening in disbelief before a laugh escaped.

Sunoo:

I do NOT hiss at sunlight. 

Heeseung:

Fine, maybe not hiss…

You just squint at me like I’m too bright to look at.

Sunoo felt heat creep up his neck, his fingers hesitating over the keyboard. He told himself it was just because he was tired.

Sunoo:

You’re imagining things.

Heeseung:

Am I?

Guess I’ll have to pay closer attention tomorrow.

Sunoo’s ears felt hot now. He quickly typed back before he could think too much about it.

Sunoo:

Focus on the project, please.

Heeseung:

Can’t promise anything 

Sunoo rolled onto his side, clutching the pillow under his arm a little tighter, his heart doing an annoying skip. He told himself Heeseung was just being playful. That was all. Still… he didn’t realize he’d been smiling at his phone until his cheeks started to hurt.

____

[ The next day ]

The restaurant’s dinner rush had finally slowed to a steady hum. Sunoo wiped his hands on a clean towel, untied his apron, and stepped into the staff room. He pulled out his phone and quickly typed a message before even reaching for his spare clothes.

Sunoo:

Just finished my shift. On my way to your place now.

It didn’t take long for the screen to light up with a reply.

Heeseung:

Ok. Don’t get lost.

Sunoo couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. He typed back a quick reply, still grinning at the short but oddly warm message, when a voice from the kitchen called his name.

“Sunoo, can you help for a bit?”

He paused mid-step, glancing at the half-folded uniform in his locker. “Uh, sure. What’s wrong?”

“One of the staff had to leave early. Just need you to cover until the next batch of orders is out.”

And just like that, his change of clothes was forgotten. Sunoo slipped the apron back over his head, tied it tight, and stepped into the warm, clattering kitchen again.

It was only supposed to be for a moment, but moments turned into thirty minutes of carrying trays, clearing tables, and ferrying bowls of steaming soup to waiting customers. By the time the last table was served, his shoulders ached, and he could finally retreat to the staff room to change.

When he finally stepped out into the cool night air, his phone told him it had been almost an hour since he’d messaged Heeseung. He quickened his pace, guilt settling in his chest.

By the time he reached Heeseung’s apartment door, he was already rehearsing his apology. The door swung open after just one knock, and Sunoo found himself facing Heeseung, who leaned casually against the frame.

“Sorry I’m late,” Sunoo began, catching his breath. “I was just about to change out of my work uniform when they called me back to help in the kitchen. One of my coworkers had to leave for an emergency, so I couldn’t just—”

“It’s fine,” Heeseung cut in, his tone calm, almost dismissive. “Come in.”

He stepped aside, leaving the door open for Sunoo to slip inside.

The familiar warmth of Heeseung’s apartment eased something tight in Sunoo’s chest. He’d been here before — that night he’d woken up on the couch, the air heavy with the faint scent of laundry and something warm from the kitchen.

It hadn’t changed much. The same soft, muted lighting, the same tidy space. But now there were small additions — a potted plant on the shoe rack, a ceramic fox figurine perched beside it, a couple of new frames on the shelf by the door. His gaze lingered on one for a moment longer than he meant to — a photo of Heeseung with his parents, Sunoo assumed.

“You’re staring,” Heeseung’s voice called from beside him, tinged with amusement.

Sunoo blinked. “…Just noticed you added some things.”

“Jay said my place looked too much like a model home,” Heeseung replied with a smirk. “Apparently, that’s bad.”

Sunoo hummed quietly, stepping out of his shoes.

“Sit,” Heeseung said, already heading toward the kitchen. “I’ll get the snacks.”

He didn’t give Sunoo a chance to refuse — not that Sunoo planned to.

By the time Heeseung returned, he was carrying a small tray with two mugs and a plate of sliced fruit, rolled omelette, and a couple of neatly wrapped rice balls.

Sunoo stared. “…You made this?”

“It’s barely cooking,” Heeseung said, setting the tray down on the low table. “But you’ve probably only had scraps since lunch, so—”

“I ate,” Sunoo murmured, but he accepted the mug Heeseung offered anyway.

“Hot chocolate,” Heeseung said simply. “No coffee. You need to sleep tonight.”

They settled onto the couch, the soft hum of the heater filling the room. Heeseung stretched an arm along the backrest, glancing at Sunoo with that lazy kind of attention he always seemed to have.

“Class was hell today,” he said after a sip.

Sunoo raised an eyebrow. “Because of the quiz?”

“That, and because Mrs. Park somehow decided the middle of winter was the best time to make us run laps in PE,” Heeseung complained. “Half the class was wheezing. Jake nearly threw up.”

Sunoo’s mouth twitched — just slightly — like he was trying not to smile. “I saw you walking instead of running.”

“It’s called pacing myself,” Heeseung said smoothly. “You, on the other hand, looked like you were trying to break a record.”

“I just wanted to get it over with.”

Heeseung chuckled. “Fair enough.”

They fell into a rhythm without meaning to — Heeseung tossing out small gripes about the day, Sunoo answering in short bursts that occasionally stretched into something longer when he forgot to hold back.

“The heater in our homeroom is broken again,” Heeseung muttered, leaning back against the couch. “I swear, Mrs. Choi is trying to freeze us on purpose.”

Sunoo took a slow sip of his drink. “You were sitting right next to it, though.”

“And still cold,” Heeseung shot back. “You can’t tell me you didn’t feel like an icicle in there.”

“…Maybe a little,” Sunoo admitted, eyes flicking to the side. “At least the sunlight from the window helped a bit.”

“True,” Heeseung said. “Though music class didn’t warm me up at all. Felt like it dragged on forever.”

“You spent most of it talking to me,” Sunoo pointed out quietly.

“That’s what made it bearable,” Heeseung replied without hesitation, smirking when Sunoo’s ears turned a faint pink.

Sunoo ignored that and shifted slightly. “We didn’t even finish talking about the lyrics today.”

“There’s time,” Heeseung said easily. “Besides, I’d rather work on them here without half the class eavesdropping.”

That earned the smallest twitch at the corner of Sunoo’s lips, but he didn’t argue.

It was nothing dramatic — just small exchanges like that, but it felt… easy.

At one point, Heeseung pushed the plate toward Sunoo. “Eat more. You’ve barely touched anything.”

Sunoo took a piece of omelette, biting back the instinct to argue. “…This is good.”

“Of course it is,” Heeseung said with mock pride, leaning back with a faint grin. “I don’t make bad food.”

“You made burnt toast last time and brought it to school just to torture Jay with it.”

“That was experimental.”

This time, Sunoo didn’t hide his small laugh. Heeseung caught it instantly, his eyes softening in that way that always left Sunoo unsure what to do with the warmth it stirred in his chest.

They kept talking — not about anything important, but in a way that made the quiet between them feel less like a gap and more like a pause.

Sunoo reached for another rice ball, his sleeves slipping over his hands as he chewed in quiet thought.

Between the hum of the heater and the faint clink of tea mugs, their conversation drifted toward the comfortable kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled.

It was Heeseung who spoke first. “By the way… we should probably talk about the project before we just sit here eating all night.”

Sunoo glanced up. “The music one?”

“Mm.” Heeseung leaned back, one arm draped loosely over the back of the couch. “I’ve got the melody down — guitar, mellow, not too slow. But it needs something else to make it feel… warmer. Personal.”

Sunoo’s brows drew together slightly. “Like what?”

“That’s where you come in.” There was a faint curve to Heeseung’s mouth. “Lyrics. I we've agreed to write them together, but it should come from both of us, you know? Not just me throwing words at you.”

Sunoo looked at him, hesitant. “…I’ve never written lyrics before.”

Heeseung tilted his head. “Good. Means you won’t overthink it. Just… write like you’re talking to someone. Like you’re telling them something you can’t say out loud.”

Sunoo let the words sit between them for a moment. “…That’s harder than it sounds.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung admitted, smiling a little. “But that’s why we’re doing it together.” 

He reached forward to pour more tea into Sunoo’s mug without asking, then sat back again. “We don’t have to finish tonight. Just start.”

Sunoo shifted a little closer to the coffee table, resting his elbows against his knees. The steam curling from his tea was comforting, but the thought of coming up with lyrics made his stomach twist.

Heeseung noticed, of course. He always did.

“Don’t make that face,” Heeseung said lightly, pulling his guitar case closer. “We’re not writing a hit single for the charts. It’s just a class project.”

“You make it sound easy,” Sunoo muttered.

“It is easy.” Heeseung’s smile turned faintly mischievous. “You talk more than you think you do — just… pretend the song is one of our conversations. No filter.”

Sunoo gave him a flat look. “I don’t talk that much.”

“You do when you forget to think about it,” Heeseung countered, and there was something so sure in his voice that Sunoo had no choice but to glance away, ears warming.

Heeseung strummed a slow, gentle progression — nothing flashy, just a few chords that felt like the memory of sunlight after a long winter. “This is the vibe I’m going for,” he said. “Now… if this sound was a moment in your life, what would it be?”

Sunoo frowned slightly. “…That’s a weird question.”

“Answer it anyway.”

There was a pause, then Sunoo’s voice came quieter. “…When you wake up and the light’s just barely coming through the curtains. It’s still cold, but the air feels… lighter.”

Heeseung’s fingers stilled on the strings, and his gaze lingered on Sunoo a second too long. “…See? That’s already a lyric.”

“It’s just a sentence.”

“Exactly. We can shape it later.” Heeseung started playing again, slower this time. “What else?”

Sunoo hesitated, but the rhythm seemed to nudge him forward. “…When you walk home at night and the street’s empty. It’s quiet, but not in a lonely way. Like you can breathe easier.”

Heeseung’s lips curved, his voice dropping almost into a hum. “That’s two lines.”

Sunoo rolled his eyes, but he didn’t stop. “When… you find out someone saved you a seat. Even if they didn’t have to.”

This time, Heeseung didn’t hide his smile. “You’re a natural.”

“I’m not,” Sunoo said quickly, leaning back like he’d gone too far.

“You are,” Heeseung replied without missing a beat, his tone softer now. “And I like hearing the way you see things.”

Sunoo didn’t have a response for that — not one he could say out loud — so he just focused on his tea, hoping the warmth in his face would fade before Heeseung noticed.

But Heeseung noticed everything.

Heeseung set his guitar down for a moment, the soft thud against the carpet making Sunoo glance up.

“You know,” Heeseung began, “it’s only fair if I give some lines too. Can’t have you doing all the work.”

“You’re the one who said you’d do the melody,” Sunoo pointed out, his voice mild but his eyes flicking toward the guitar case.

“Yeah, but…” Heeseung tilted his head, watching him in that way that always felt a little too sharp and a little too gentle at the same time. “Lyrics should feel like a conversation, right? So here’s my half.”

He picked up the guitar again and strummed a few slow chords — not the same ones as before, but close enough to weave into the same warmth. His gaze stayed fixed on Sunoo as he spoke.

“When the quietest person in the room says something under his breath… and it’s funnier than anything anyone else could’ve come up with.”

Sunoo blinked, his fingers tightening slightly around his mug. “That’s… not—”

“It counts,” Heeseung interrupted, his tone unbothered. He strummed again. “When someone looks like they’d rather disappear, but they still save you the last bite of their lunch.”

“That’s oddly specific,” Sunoo muttered, but the heat was starting to creep into his ears.

Heeseung’s lips quirked. “When a person thinks they’re hard to notice… but you can’t stop noticing anyway.”

Sunoo’s eyes darted away, finding sudden interest in the books stacked by the wall. “You’re just making things up now.”

“I’m not,” Heeseung said, and there was no teasing in his voice this time. “When someone walks into the room and it feels… lighter. Even if they don’t see it themselves.”

The strings hummed under his fingers, filling the space between them. Sunoo swallowed, his gaze stubbornly fixed on the patterned rug beneath the table. The warmth in his chest was getting harder to ignore.

“You keep staring like that, I’m going to start charging you,” he muttered, trying for lightness.

That earned a low chuckle from Heeseung — not loud, but deep enough to make the air shift. “Go ahead. I can afford it.”

Sunoo finally glanced up, only to find that the look in Heeseung’s eyes hadn’t changed — steady, intent, like he was memorising something. He dropped his gaze again almost immediately, ears practically burning.

“Anyway,” Heeseung said after a beat, letting the chords fade, “I think we’ve got the start of something.”

“Of the song?” Sunoo asked.

“Mm,” Heeseung leaned back, still smiling faintly, “something like that.”

Sunoo shifted slightly on the floor cushion, still not looking directly at him. “You’re not writing any of that down?”

“I am,” Heeseung replied, leaning forward to grab the open notebook between them. “Just… up here first.” He tapped the side of his head before flipping to a clean page.

The tip of his pen hovered for a second. “Okay. Your turn again. Let’s pretend we’re trading lines. No pressure.”

Sunoo exhaled, glancing at the blank page like it might bite him. “I’m not a songwriter.”

“That’s fine. You’re a person. People have thoughts.” Heeseung’s tone was easy, but his eyes were quietly encouraging, like he was daring Sunoo to try.

After a pause, Sunoo mumbled, “When the day’s been too long, but someone still waits for you.”

The scratch of Heeseung’s pen was immediate. “That’s good,” he said, no hesitation. “Simple, but it makes you feel something.”

He read it back softly, almost like testing how it sounded aloud, then added, “What else?”

Sunoo hesitated, then spoke a little quicker, before he could talk himself out of it. “When you didn’t know you were cold… until it’s warm.”

Heeseung’s smile widened just a fraction, and he wrote it down without looking away from him. “See? You’re a natural.”

“I’m not,” Sunoo muttered, taking a sip from his mug to hide his face.

“Fine. Then I’ll cheat and make the next one.” Heeseung tapped the pen against the page, eyes still locked on Sunoo. “When someone laughs like they don’t know they’re allowed to.”

The pen moved again, smooth and deliberate.

Sunoo looked away, staring at the low table between them, but the words seemed to settle somewhere deep in his chest.

“Your turn,” Heeseung prompted gently.

The silence stretched for a moment. Then, almost reluctantly, Sunoo said, “When… you don’t feel like a guest anymore.”

That earned a soft laugh from Heeseung. “Guess that means I’m doing something right.” He jotted the line down, his expression unreadable, but the warmth in his voice gave him away.

They went back and forth like that — not rushing, not forcing anything. A line from Sunoo, careful and understated. A line from Heeseung, a little more direct, sometimes just this side of personal. The pages in the notebook began to fill slowly, but with each line, the air between them felt less like tutor-and-student and more like… something else entirely.

When Sunoo finally leaned back, stretching his legs out beneath the table, Heeseung closed the notebook with a satisfied hum. “Not bad for a first night’s work.”

Sunoo glanced at the closed cover. “It’s just scraps.”

“Scraps are how you start,” Heeseung said, standing to carry their empty mugs to the kitchen counter. “The rest comes later.”

Sunoo watched him move around the small space, the sound of running water filling the quiet. It struck him then — he wasn’t thinking about how late it was, or how tired he’d been after work. Just… here.

And for the first time in a while, it didn’t feel like something he needed to run from.

____

By the time the clock on the wall edged past ten, the notes and half-finished lines sat quietly between them, like they’d been holding something important all along.

Heeseung came back from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel, and dropped onto the cushion beside Sunoo again. “You’re zoning out,” he murmured, leaning just far enough for his shoulder to brush Sunoo’s.

Sunoo blinked. “I was just… thinking.”

“Dangerous habit,” Heeseung teased, but his voice was soft. “Want me to walk you home?”

Sunoo shook his head. “It’s fine. It’s not far.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Heeseung reached over, picking up the hoodie he’d left draped on the back of a chair earlier. “Here,” he said, holding it out. “It’s chilly out.”

Sunoo hesitated. “I’m fine—”

“Sunoo.”

The quiet insistence in his tone left no room for argument. So Sunoo took it, slipping the hoodie over his head. It was warm from the heater, faintly smelling of detergent and something that was just… Heeseung.

Heeseung’s lips quirked like he’d noticed the pause. “Looks better on you anyway.”

The words sat between them, simple but heavier than they had any right to be.

When Sunoo finally stood to leave, Heeseung walked him to the door. No grand gestures, no lingering touches — just a quiet “Goodnight” and a small wave as Sunoo stepped into the hallway.

But as Sunoo walked home, hoodie sleeves brushing his hands, he caught himself smiling at nothing.

And maybe, just maybe, that scared him less than it used to.

Chapter Text

Heeseung closed the door behind Sunoo, the faint echo of the lock clicking into place sounding too loud in the quiet apartment. The warmth from the heater hummed softly in the background, filling the space Sunoo had just left.

He let out a slow breath and crossed the living room, sinking into the corner of the couch. The black-and-white rug under the coffee table caught his eyes for a moment — he remembered how bare this spot had looked when he first moved in. His parents had picked the place, of course, but it had been his job to make it feel like more than just a showroom apartment. Over time, he’d added little things: the framed photos near the front door, a few knickknacks on the shelves, a potted plant he wasn’t sure was still alive. It wasn’t much, but it felt like his.

And lately… it felt like Sunoo’s presence fit here too.

Heeseung leaned back, staring at the ceiling. It was strange, the way Sunoo had quietly slipped into his life. He cared about Jungwon and Ni-ki a lot — looked out for them in the way any older friend would. But with Sunoo… it was different.

He found himself noticing things. Whether Sunoo had eaten. Whether he was warm enough in this weather. Whether that little crease between his brows would ease if Heeseung just reached out and smoothed it away. It wasn’t just looking out for him — it was wanting to.

And that, he realized with a sigh, was dangerous.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew what this feeling was — or at least, he had a good idea. He just didn’t know if he wanted to face it yet. Because once he did, there’d be no pretending it was just casual concern.

He stared at the spot on the couch where Sunoo had been sitting earlier, the cushions still faintly indented. A part of him wished he’d stayed a little longer.

With another quiet sigh, Heeseung pushed himself up, heading for his bedroom. Maybe sleep would clear his head. Or maybe it wouldn’t. Either way, tomorrow would come, and Sunoo would still be there — and that was enough to keep the strange warmth in his chest from fading.

____

Pale winter light slipped through the blinds in Heeseung’s bedroom, casting thin lines across the floorboards. He blinked awake, the soft hum of the heater the only sound in the quiet apartment.

As he pushed himself upright, his gaze drifted through the open doorway to the living room — to the couch, where he could just make out the faint indentation left from where Sunoo had sat last night.

It was ridiculous how something so small could make his chest feel warm.

Shaking the thought away, Heeseung swung his legs out of bed and padded to the bathroom. His morning routine was automatic: wash up, pull on his uniform, run a hand through his hair until it looked halfway presentable. He grabbed his bag, locked the apartment door behind him, and stepped out into the crisp morning air.

By the time he reached the school gates, the building was already buzzing. Inside the classroom, the air was warmer, carrying the low hum of early conversations.

Heeseung stepped in and first made his way to his own desk — a few tables in from the door — setting his bag down on the chair. Sunghoon was already in his seat beside him, flipping through a sports magazine, while Jake sat in front of Heeseung, drumming his fingers against his desk.

But Heeseung didn’t stay there long. With his hands in his pockets, he crossed the room toward the far side where sunlight streamed through the windows — the spot that had quietly become their group’s morning base.

Jungwon and Sunoo sat side by side by the window, with Jay in front of Sunoo and Ni-ki next to Jay. Most mornings, everyone gathered here before class, even if their actual seats were scattered elsewhere. Today was no different — Jake had already migrated over, leaning casually against Ni-ki’s desk, and Sunghoon had joined them too, leaning an elbow on Jungwon’s chair as he flipped another page of his magazine.

“Morning,” Heeseung greeted, sliding into the narrow space between Jay and Jungwon.

The classroom door slid open not long after, letting in a rush of cold air and the faint scent of broth and sesame oil — the lingering trace of Sunoo’s early prep shift at the family restaurant. His hair was slightly mussed from the walk.

“You’re cutting it close again,” Heeseung said.

“I left on time,” Sunoo muttered, slipping into his seat beside Jungwon.

The morning chatter rolled on around them.

Jake groaned, “The heater’s basically dead. My hands froze during notes yesterday.”

“You’re just soft,” Ni-ki said without looking up.

“Not everyone’s built like a penguin,” Sunghoon added, earning a quiet snort from Heeseung.

Sunoo quietly unwrapped a bread roll from his bag.

“Eat it now, not during class,” Heeseung told him.

Sunoo rolled his eyes but took a bite anyway.

The first bell rang, and everyone drifted back to their seats. Heeseung lingered a second longer by Sunoo’s desk.

“Free after your shift?”

“…Yeah, around 7.30..”

“My place then,” Heeseung said, heading back to his desk. “Let’s finish the bridge for the song.”

Sunoo didn’t answer, but Heeseung caught the faint lift at the corner of his mouth before he looked away.

___

The heater rattled weakly as the first period began, the teacher droning on about exam formats for the last week of the semester. A few students had already begun slouching in their seats, the soft scratch of pencils filling the otherwise quiet room.

From his spot near the door, Heeseung let his gaze drift — not to the chalkboard, but to the far side of the classroom where Sunoo sat, chin resting on his hand. The faint crease between his brows deepened every so often, like he was trying to stay focused despite the sluggish pace of the lecture.

Jay leaned back in his chair to whisper something to Ni-ki, who replied without even looking up from his notebook. Jungwon, seated beside Sunoo, had his pen spinning idly between his fingers.

It was a normal scene — almost boring — but Heeseung found himself quietly watching for the moment Sunoo’s attention slipped. Sure enough, a few minutes later, Sunoo’s eyes flicked toward the window, lingering there as if the gray sky outside was far more interesting than the lesson.

When their gazes met, Heeseung smirked and mouthed, Pay attention.

Sunoo blinked, clearly caught off guard, and quickly turned back toward the front. Still, the corner of his mouth twitched — not quite a smile, but close.

The period dragged, the air stuffy despite the cold outside. By the time the bell rang for lunch, half the class looked ready to collapse.

___

The dinner rush at the family restaurant had been steady but not overwhelming. By the time Sunoo tied off the trash bag from the kitchen and wiped down the last counter, the clock on the wall read 7:27.

He untied his apron, folding it neatly before hanging it on the hook in the staff room. The faint smell of broth and soy sauce clung to his uniform, but the winter air outside would take care of that.

The streets were quieter now, the glow of shop signs reflecting off patches of frost along the sidewalk. Sunoo tucked his hands into his pockets as he walked, his steps quick but unhurried. It wasn’t far to Heeseung’s — just enough distance for his breath to puff in soft clouds by the time he reached the building.

Heeseung answered the door almost as soon as Sunoo knocked, leaning casually against the frame.

“You’re on time today,” Heeseung said, a small smile tugging at his mouth.

“Barely,” Sunoo replied, stepping past him into the warm apartment.

“Shoes,” Heeseung reminded lightly when Sunoo almost forgot.

Sunoo slipped them off and padded toward the living room.

On the coffee table sat two mugs of steaming tea and a plate of neatly cut fruit. Without a word, Sunoo lowered himself onto the couch, fingers curling around the warm ceramic of the nearest mug.

The steam curled up toward his face, bringing with it the faint scent of chamomile. He took a sip, the heat sinking into his chest in slow waves.

Heeseung sat down beside him, not crowding but close enough that Sunoo could feel the faint dip in the cushions. One arm rested loosely along the back of the couch, his other hand nursing his own cup.

For a while, they didn’t speak. The hum of the heater filled the room, blending with the occasional clink of the mug when Sunoo set it down to pick up a piece of fruit. Heeseung’s gaze followed the small motion, lingering for a second longer than necessary before shifting away.

It wasn’t awkward. Just… quiet. The kind of quiet that made the warmth of the room feel more solid somehow.

Once the mugs were empty and the plate between them was down to the last slice of fruit, Heeseung set them aside and reached for the notebook on the coffee table — the same one they’d been working on yesterday.

“Let’s pick up where we left off,” he said, flipping to the marked page. His neat handwriting filled most of it, with the occasional rushed scrawl from when ideas had come too quickly to write cleanly.

Sunoo leaned in slightly, scanning the lines they’d pieced together the night before. He tapped one with his finger. “This… could lead into something softer. Not sad, just… quieter.”

Heeseung’s pen hovered over the paper. “Like a drop in the melody?”

“Mm,” Sunoo gave a small nod. “Something that makes the next part feel warmer when it comes in.”

Heeseung jotted a note in the margin, then strummed a few bars on his guitar, letting the sound fill the quiet. “What about here—if we repeat this line but change one word, so it feels like it’s shifted?”

Sunoo thought for a moment, then offered the replacement.

The pen moved again, Heeseung adjusting the lyric to fit the rhythm. They kept going like that—Sunoo suggesting words, Heeseung writing them down; Heeseung testing the sound, Sunoo giving a nod or a quiet “no, try again.”

It wasn’t quick work, but it wasn’t tedious either. Just steady. Unhurried.

When they finally leaned back, the page looked fuller than it had before, their song taking on more of its final shape.

Heeseung tapped the pen lightly against the edge of the notebook, glancing at the lines they’d just finished. “Okay… my turn.”

Sunoo’s gaze flicked up at him, curious.

Heeseung didn’t look away as he spoke, his tone thoughtful. “What if… the next part isn’t about the weather or the setting anymore. What if it’s about… someone?”

Sunoo tilted his head. “Someone?”

“Mm,” Heeseung nodded. “Like… the kind of person who walks into your life without trying, but somehow changes everything.” His eyes stayed on Sunoo as he said it, steady, almost studying his reaction.

Sunoo shifted slightly under the weight of the look, pretending to read the page. “That’s… kind of vague.”

“On purpose,” Heeseung said with a faint smile. His pen hovered. “For example… ‘You carry the morning with you, even on the coldest day.’”

Sunoo blinked, caught off guard by the phrasing. “That sounds… dramatic.”

“Not if it’s true,” Heeseung countered easily, still writing. “Or… ‘You never notice, but you turn silence into something I want to hear.’”

The words landed heavier than Sunoo expected. He found himself glancing away, heat creeping up his neck. “You’re just making things up now.”

“Am I?” Heeseung’s chuckle was quiet but warm. “You’re not even arguing properly. That means you like it.”

“I didn’t say that,” Sunoo muttered, still looking anywhere but at him.

Heeseung only smiled, the pen moving steadily as he shaped the line, his gaze drifting back to Sunoo in between words.

Heeseung jotted down the line, then tapped the pen against the margin, humming softly. “Alright… that’s enough for now. If we keep pushing, it’s gonna start sounding forced.”

Sunoo nodded, still not meeting his eyes for too long. “We’re almost done anyway. Just need to smooth out the bridge.”

“Two more sessions and we’ll have it,” Heeseung said, closing the notebook. He set the pen on top, then reached for the small plate on the table, nudging it toward Sunoo. “Eat before you go. You’ve been working all day.”

“I’m fine—”

“Not asking.” Heeseung’s voice was light, but his gaze left no room for argument.

Sunoo sighed but took the fruit, chewing slowly. The sweet, cool bite made him realize just how hungry he actually was.

For a while, they sat in easy quiet — the kind that didn’t need filling. Outside, the city hummed faintly, but in the apartment, it felt almost insulated, like the world couldn’t reach them here.

When Sunoo finally stood, pulling on his coat, Heeseung walked him to the door. “Same time tomorrow?”

Sunoo gave a short nod. “Yeah.”

The hallway light cast a soft halo around him as he stepped out. “Goodnight.”

Heeseung leaned against the doorframe for a second, watching him go before quietly closing the door.

Inside, the apartment felt different again — not empty exactly, but holding a quiet trace of the person who’d just left.

___

For the next two days, Sunoo found himself following the same quiet routine — school, a quick shift at the family restaurant, then straight to Heeseung’s apartment. They worked through the lyrics piece by piece, taking turns tossing out lines and polishing the phrasing until it felt right.

By Friday, their notebook was full. The lyrics were finished — now all that was left was deciding how to split the parts and commit them to memory.

Sunoo liked the words they’d built together, but what stayed with him most was the melody. The first time Heeseung played the full thing for him — fingers moving effortlessly over the strings, each note warm and steady — it had slipped under his skin and settled there. Even later that night, lying in bed, the tune refused to leave. He caught himself humming it quietly into the dark until sleep finally pulled him under.

Heeseung, on the other hand, found himself distracted by something else entirely. He’d never thought much about what Sunoo’s singing voice would sound like — not really — but hearing it for the first time had caught him off guard. It wasn’t showy or forced. Just bright, clear, and effortlessly smooth, with a warmth that seemed to fill the space between notes. There was a boyish charm to it, but also control — the kind that made you want to listen longer without even realizing it.

And when Sunoo sang along with the melody he’d written, Heeseung couldn’t help but think it fit him perfectly — like the song had been waiting for his voice all along.

Sunoo wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he felt something similar. There was a weight in Heeseung’s tone — rich and steady — that anchored the melody, wrapping around his own voice in a way that made it feel safer to sing. It was warm, like the sound of someone speaking low just for you, and it made him want to keep singing even after the song ended.

___

The afternoon sun spilled through the tall windows, stretching golden patterns across the classroom floor. The teacher’s desk sat empty, and the faint murmur of voices filled the air — the kind of low, restless buzz that came when no one was around to keep order.

Sunoo sat at his desk by the window, chin propped on one hand, his gaze wandering past the glass. Outside, a thin breeze shifted the bare branches of the trees, scattering the last stubborn leaves that clung to them. His mind floated somewhere far from the classroom — not on any particular thought, just caught in that quiet drift he always fell into when there was nothing urgent pulling him back.

The scrape of chairs broke through his haze. He blinked, dragging his focus back just enough to see the familiar scene unfolding: Heeseung, Sunghoon, and Jake abandoning their desks across the room, weaving their way toward the sunny corner where he, Jungwon, Ni-ki, and Jay sat.

Sunghoon had his sports jacket slung over his shoulder, balancing a paper cup of water in one hand. Jake’s steps were quick, like he was half walking, half bouncing his way over. Heeseung moved at his own unhurried pace, eyes scanning the group like he’d already decided this was where he was going to end up.

They slipped into the space like they always did. Jake dropped into the empty chair behind Jungwon, spinning it halfway around so he could face everyone. Sunghoon hooked a foot under Jay’s desk leg, leaning in without asking. Heeseung came to rest against the side of Sunoo’s desk, his shadow falling across the patch of sunlight on the wood.

“Spacing out again?” Heeseung asked lightly.

Sunoo shrugged, not bothering with a reply.

“Free period and you still look bored,” Jake said, leaning back until the chair tipped dangerously.

“Maybe I’m just bored of you,” Sunoo muttered, eyes drifting back toward the window.

Ni-ki snorted without looking up from his phone. “Harsh.”

Jake leaned forward onto Jungwon’s desk. “Speaking of harsh, you know what’s harsh? The fact that I woke up thinking today was Saturday. And then I remembered I still had to come here.”

“That’s just you being delusional,” Sunghoon said, setting his paper cup down on Jay’s desk and nudging Jay’s elbow until he made space.

“You’re one to talk,” Jake shot back. “You look like you woke up ten minutes ago.”

“I did,” Sunghoon said simply, drawing a short laugh from Jungwon.

“Not like it matters,” Ni-ki said, still scrolling. “You don’t even have to be here most of the time.”

Sunghoon gave a small shrug. “Not for long. Winter break’s basically booked solid with training.”

That earned him the attention of everyone at the table. Jay turned in his seat. “All of it?”

“Pretty much,” Sunghoon replied. “Nationals are coming up right after the break, so my coach is cramming in as much practice as possible. I’ll have, maybe, a week or two free at most.”

“A week or two?” Jake groaned. “That’s barely enough time for one proper hangout.”

Sunghoon smirked. “Guess you’ll have to make it count.”

Ni-ki leaned back in his chair. “We should make him buy us food before he disappears.”

“You mean you want him to buy you food,” Jungwon corrected.

“Same thing.”

The group chuckled, the easy rhythm of their voices blending with the faint hum of chatter from the rest of the class. Sunoo didn’t say much — he rarely did in moments like these — but he found himself listening, the edges of his mouth curving slightly when someone made a joke.

Every now and then, Heeseung would glance down at him from where he leaned against the desk, like he was checking to make sure Sunoo was still there, still part of this small circle carved out in the middle of an otherwise ordinary afternoon.

“Fine,” Ni-ki said after a beat, finally looking up from his phone. “If Sunghoon hyung’s busy the whole break, then Heeseung hyung can pay.”

Heeseung snorted. “For what?”

“For food,” Ni-ki replied simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Jake perked up. “Ooh, yeah. We should do barbecue before the break ends.”

“Barbecue’s expensive,” Jungwon said, glancing at Jake. “You’re better off asking Jay hyung.”

Jay scoffed, spinning a pen between his fingers. “Why me?”

“Because you’re the only one who buys random snacks for us without asking,” Jungwon pointed out.

“That’s different,” Jay said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced. “Snacks aren’t the same as paying for a full meal.”

Ni-ki leaned forward, resting his chin in his palm. “Come on, hyung, it’s practically the same thing.”

“Practically,” Jay repeated with a flat stare. “Sure.”

The conversation shifted again when Jake started listing all the things they could do in a week. “We could go ice skating—”

Sunghoon arched a brow. “I already do that for hours every day.”

“Fine. Then, uh… karaoke?”

“Only if Ni-ki sings first,” Jungwon said with a grin.

“No way,” Ni-ki said instantly. “Make Sunoo hyung do it.”

Sunoo’s head lifted at the sound of his name, but before he could answer, Heeseung said, “Pass. He’s my partner for the music project — I’m not letting you lot scare him before the performance.”

That earned a round of groans and playful complaints, the kind that didn’t need a real answer.

Sunoo didn’t jump in, but his gaze drifted between them, quietly taking in the energy — Ni-ki’s lazy smirks, Jungwon’s sharp little jabs, Jake’s endless enthusiasm, Jay’s half-serious protests, and Sunghoon’s dry remarks that somehow still made them laugh.

It was noisy. Pointless. And strangely… nice.

The minutes slipped by without any real structure to the conversation.

Someone would throw out an idea — a movie marathon, a visit to the arcade, a trip to the street food stalls — and the others would shoot it down or twist it into something entirely different.

“Arcade sounds fun,” Jake said, propping his chin on his hand.

“You just want to beat Ni-ki at basketball again,” Jungwon replied.

“I let you win last time,” Ni-ki said flatly.

Jake grinned. “Sure you did, maknae.”

“Keep calling me that and I’m charging you for every win I get,” Ni-ki threatened, but there was no real heat in it.

Across from them, Jay was quietly sketching something on a scrap of paper while half-listening, tossing in the occasional dry comment that somehow made everyone laugh harder than it should. Sunghoon didn’t say much either, but every time he did, it was a sharp, well-placed jab that had Ni-ki narrowing his eyes at him in mock offense.

“I’ll probably be working a lot too,” Sunoo spoke up suddenly. All eyes flicked to him, and he quickly added, “So I might not have much free time.”

The words felt heavier in the air than he wanted, so he forced a small smile. “But I’ll try to make time.”

“Of course,” Jake said easily, leaning back on his hands. “Even if we hang out, we’ll figure it out so everyone can be there.”

“Yeah,” Jungwon chimed in. “It’s not like we have to do everything in one go. We can split it up — as long as we’re together, it’s fine.”

Heeseung nodded from where he leaned against Ni-ki’s desk. “We’ll work around it. Don’t stress.”

Sunoo glanced between them, the warmth in their easy acceptance sinking in before he could push it away.

It was an easy rhythm. One that Sunoo never thought he’d find himself in.

The sharp ring of the bell cut through the chatter, making them all glance toward the front of the classroom. Students started shuffling back to their own desks, pulling out books and pens with varying levels of reluctance.

“Alright, hyungs,” Ni-ki said as he hopped off his desk. “Don’t forget — barbecue. I’m holding you to it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake waved him off, heading for his seat in front of Heeseung.

Jay slipped his sketch into his notebook, Jungwon leaned back into his chair, and Sunghoon stretched before returning to his spot beside Heeseung.

As the room settled into a quieter hum, Sunoo turned back toward the window, the trace of their earlier laughter still lingering in the air.

____

The class stayed put after recess, the air inside warmer than the frosty wind outside. The PE teacher hadn’t bothered to show, and nobody was complaining. Chairs scraped as people shuffled over to their friends’ tables, clusters forming around the room.

As usual, Heeseung, Sunghoon, and Jake drifted to the window-side corner where Jungwon and Sunoo sat, with Jay and Ni-ki in front of them.

Jake dropped into Jay’s chair with a dramatic sigh. “Guess we’re not running laps today. Thank God. I’m not built for winter sports.”

Ni-ki shot him a flat look. “You’re not built for sports, period.”

Jake flipped him off. Ni-ki didn’t hesitate to return it.

“I’m literally the best first-year player in the soccer club,” Jake shot back.

“And I’m the ace of the baseball club,” Ni-ki countered. “Your point?”

Sunoo glanced between them, the corner of his mouth twitching. “…Pretty sure that’s not how you win arguments.”

Jay snorted, leaning back in his seat. “He’s right, you know.”

Jake turned toward Sunoo, squinting. “Traitor.”

Sunoo lifted one shoulder in a small shrug, his eyes briefly meeting Jake’s before dropping back to the desk.

Jungwon chuckled. “You two should just arm-wrestle and be done with it.”

“That’s because I’d be winning,” Ni-ki said instantly.

“In your dreams,” Jake shot back, and the two launched into another round of petty sniping.

It didn’t last long before Sunghoon waved a hand dismissively. “Alright, enough. Find a new topic before I die of secondhand embarrassment.”

“What, you want me to talk about the science lab fire alarm last week?” Jake said.

“That was you?” Jungwon asked, eyes wide.

Jake put a hand to his chest, offended. “No! …Mostly no. The bunsen burner was already on when I got there.”

Ni-ki smirked. “So it was you.”

Jay leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand. “This is why they shouldn’t let you near anything flammable.”

Sunoo, without looking up from the pen he was idly spinning, murmured, “Kind of surprising the school still does.”

A few of them laughed, Heeseung among them, though his gaze lingered on Sunoo for a moment longer before joining in.

From there, the conversation meandered — complaints about the cafeteria’s mystery stew, debating whether the heater in the library actually worked, and Ni-ki insisting a pigeon had tried to follow him into the gym.

“It was flapping right at me,” Ni-ki said, gesturing wildly. “I swear it had murder in its eyes.”

Jake grinned. “You’re just mad it beat you in a staring contest.”

“It would’ve lost if the janitor hadn’t shooed it away,” Ni-ki muttered.

Sunghoon arched an eyebrow. “Pretty sure losing to a pigeon isn’t something you should admit.”

That earned a laugh from Jay, who then turned to Jungwon. “Speaking of animals, did you ever finish that art project with the cat sketches?”

Jungwon perked up. “Yeah. I even put one on the bulletin board outside the art room.”

“I saw that,” Sunoo said quietly. “The one with the orange tabby. It looked… real.”

Jungwon’s smile widened. “Thanks, hyung.”

Jake leaned over toward Sunoo. “You draw?”

Sunoo shook his head. “No. Just… noticed it when I passed by.”

“Noticed it and remembered the details,” Heeseung said, his tone light but his eyes amused. “Guess that means it made an impression.”

Sunoo ducked his head, unsure if that counted as praise, but the faint curve of his lips betrayed him.

The topic shifted again when Sunghoon mentioned the vending machine outside the science wing had finally been fixed.

“About time,” Jay muttered. “Thing’s been eating my coins since last month.”

Jake smirked. “Still holding a grudge against a vending machine?”

“It’s not a grudge if it stole from me,” Jay shot back. “Three separate times.”

Ni-ki snorted. “Pretty sure that’s a you problem, hyung.”

Jay narrowed his eyes. “Next time it swallows your money, don’t come crying to me.”

“Like I’d even try using it,” Ni-ki said. “I actually value my snacks.”

Jake laughed. “Guess we’ll just leave you two to sort out your differences in private.”

“Honestly,” Sunghoon said, leaning back against Jungwon’s desk, “I’m surprised you didn’t try to take it apart yourself.”

Jay raised a brow. “Do I look like I carry a toolbox around?”

“Yes,” Ni-ki and Jake said in unison.

That got a small laugh out of Sunoo before he could stop himself.

Jay glanced at him. “What?”

Sunoo shook his head lightly. “…They’re not wrong.”

Even Jungwon chuckled. “You do kinda have that ‘I can fix it’ vibe, hyung.”

Jay looked around at the lot of them, clearly weighing whether to defend himself or just accept it. “…Fine. But if it breaks again, I’m stealing the snacks directly from the back.”

“You’ll get caught in two minutes,” Heeseung said, smirking.

“Not if you distract the janitor for me,” Jay shot back with a wink.

“Pass,” Heeseung replied easily, making the others laugh again.

The conversation rolled on, jumping from vending machine ‘heists’ to who could survive the longest without their phone. Jake swore he could last a week, which earned immediate disbelief from everyone — even Sunoo, who muttered, “Half a day, maybe,” earning an exaggerated gasp from Jake.

“Wow. Betrayed by the quiet one,” Jake said, clutching his chest.

Sunoo only hummed in response, the smallest flicker of amusement in his eyes.

Ni-ki leaned forward over his desk. “I could last without my phone. Easy.”

Jake scoffed. “You? You’d combust. You’re on it more than anyone.”

“It’s called research,” Ni-ki said.

Sunghoon raised a brow. “Research for what? Memes?”

“Memes are cultural knowledge,” Ni-ki replied seriously, which got the whole group laughing.

Jungwon grinned. “We should test it over the break. Everyone hands their phone to me for twenty-four hours.”

“Not happening,” Jay said flatly.

Jake pointed at him. “See? He’s the one who’d suffer the most.”

Sunoo spoke up quietly, “Pretty sure you’d all last less than an hour.”

That earned a collective round of mock-offended gasps, Heeseung’s included.

“Wow,” Heeseung said, shaking his head. “You’ve been hanging out with us more and now you’re fearless.”

Sunoo gave the faintest smile, eyes flicking to the window. “…Maybe.”

The group fell back into easy exchanges, voices overlapping as the minutes slipped by. It was the kind of moment that didn’t need to be marked by anything important — just laughter, teasing, and the unspoken comfort of knowing they’d all be here again tomorrow.

___

The rest of the school day passed without much fuss, and by the time the final bell rang, Sunoo was already thinking about his shift.

The family restaurant was steady that evening — not busy enough to wear him down completely, but not slow enough to let him drift off either. When the clock hit 7:30, he untied his apron, thanked the kitchen staff, and stepped out into the chilly night air.

His breath puffed in faint clouds as he walked home. It still stung, being fired from the convenience store. The pay had helped more than he liked to admit. But as much as it made things harder, there was a small part of him that was… relieved. Free time wasn’t something he’d had in years, and even if it came at a cost, he couldn’t deny the quiet comfort of knowing he could go home and just… stay there.

By the time he reached his apartment, he was ready to collapse. Dropping his bag by the door, he kicked off his shoes and fell onto his bed without even changing. The ceiling above him was dimly lit by the street lamp outside, the glow settling over the folds of his blanket.

His phone buzzed in his hand, and without thinking, he opened his messages.

Heeseung:

Are you done with your shift?

Sunoo:

Done for the day.

It didn’t take long for a reply.

Heeseung:

Resting?

Sunoo:

Yeah. Staying in tonight.

Heeseung:

Good.

A pause. Then:

Heeseung:

Group chat?

Sunoo stared at the screen for a second before opening it. Almost immediately, a notification popped up.

bunch of idiots (except Sunoo)

Jake:

Finally. The ghost joins us.

Jay:

Didn’t think you’d have the energy after work.

Ni-ki:

Bet he’s already half-asleep.

Sunoo:

Not yet.

Jungwon:

Keyword: yet.

Jake: 

Now tell me who changed the group name to bunch of idiots except Sunoo? Why is Sunoo even excluded?

Heeseung: 

Cuz he's not an idiot. Only you guys

Jay:

Okay we've found the culprit.

Heeseung:

It was Ni-ki guys, I only added the Sunoo part.

Jungwon:

I agree with Heeseung hyung tho.

Ni-ki:

Same. That's why I couldn't be bothered to change it back.

Sunghoon:

So what’s the plan? Just tease Sunoo until he leaves?

Jake:

That’s always the plan.

Heeseung:

Leave him alone.

Ni-ki:

Hyung’s playing favorites again.

Sunoo:

…

Jay:

Even his ellipses sound done with us.

Jake:

Alright, let’s switch targets.

Ni-ki:

Oh, I’ve got one. Jake faceplanted during soccer practice today.

Jake:

Excuse me??

Ni-ki:

Baseball practice was finishing up. I just happened to look over and there you were, kissing the dirt.

Jungwon:

You saw it too?

Ni-ki:

Obviously.

Jungwon:

I was on the second floor after a student council meeting. Could see the field from the hallway window.

Sunghoon:

This is beautiful.

Jake:

This is slander.

Ni-ki:

Nope. It’s eyewitness testimony. Two witnesses. Ironclad.

Jay:

We need video evidence.

Ni-ki:

Didn’t get it, but I can re-enact it if you want.

Sunoo:

…worth watching.

Heeseung:

Agreed.

Jake:

Wow. Betrayal from every angle.

Sunghoon:

Consider it payback for all the times you tried to “accidentally” nutmeg me in soccer.

Jake:

Those were tactical.

Jungwon:

Sure. Tactical faceplants.

The chat kept rolling, bouncing from Jake’s “tactical” fall to Ni-ki’s latest late-night rabbit hole search, then to Sunghoon insisting he could beat everyone at arm wrestling. None of it mattered, but the messages stacked up on Sunoo’s screen like little pulses of warmth in his otherwise quiet room.

Sunoo lay back against his pillows, phone still in hand as the group chat scrolled on — Jake trying (and failing) to defend himself, Ni-ki piling on with more jabs. His eyes felt heavier with every blink. He started typing — You’re all just — but his thumb slipped, sending it off before he could finish.

Sunoo:

You’re all just

Jungwon:

…just what?

Jay:

He’s probably asleep.

Ni-ki:

Told you. Guy’s out cold.

Jake:

We should spam him so his phone explodes when he wakes up.

Heeseung:

Don’t. Let him sleep.

Sunghoon:

Since when are you the considerate one?

Heeseung:

Since now.

Jungwon:

Bet he didn’t even bother changing out of his work clothes.

Jay:

Wouldn’t surprise me.

Ni-ki:

Yeah, he’s gonna regret it when he wakes up.

Heeseung:

He’ll be fine. He always is.

There was a beat of silence before Ni-ki finally cut in:

Ni-ki:

I’m still reenacting the fall for him tomorrow.

Jake:

Of course you are.

The conversation drifted on, the teasing shifting to Jake again. Sunoo didn’t read a single word of it — the phone had already slipped to the side, his breathing evening out as sleep took over.

___

It was Saturday — the kind of morning Sunoo wasn’t used to. No early rush to his job, no uniform waiting in a neatly folded pile at the end of his bed.

The silence felt strange. Too still.

He’d woken up late by his standards, rolled over to check his phone, and found a handful of unread group chat messages from the night before — the ones he’d half-remembered skimming before dozing off mid-text.

Before he could scroll through them properly, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. Heeseung.

Sunoo hesitated for a second, then swiped to answer. “…Hello?”

“You really did knock out last night,” Heeseung said, his voice carrying a faint note of amusement. “Didn’t even finish your sentence in the chat.”

Sunoo rubbed at his eyes. “…Guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“Guess so. But you’re up now?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have work today?”

“I used to work at the convenience store on Saturdays,” Sunoo said. “But… you know. Got fired.” His voice was matter-of-fact, without much weight behind it. “Tried asking the restaurant if they needed me, but they said no. Told me to rest.”

“That settles it, then,” Heeseung said. “Come out with me.”

Sunoo blinked at the ceiling. “…What?”

“There’s a winter exhibition at the mall near the station. Ice sculptures, lights, the works. Free to look around.” His tone was casual, but there was something deliberate in the offer. “We can grab lunch after.”

“I don’t—” Sunoo started, but Heeseung cut in without missing a beat.

“My treat. You’re not spending your first free Saturday in forever lying in bed staring at your walls.”

There was a stretch of quiet on Sunoo’s end before he muttered, “…What time?”

“I’ll meet you at the station in an hour.”

The line clicked dead before Sunoo could protest. 

Sunoo sat on the edge of his bed for a while, trying to gather enough willpower to move. If he was going to go out, he at least needed to wash up.

He’d gotten home after his shift yesterday, fallen face-first onto his bed without even changing, and didn’t move again until sunlight crept through the thin curtains.

The moment he stepped into the bathroom, the cold hit him like a wall. The winter air seeped through every thin crack in the apartment, and the water from the tap was no kinder — icy from the first touch. He turned it on fully, letting it run in the vain hope it might warm up. It didn’t.

By the time he stepped under the spray, a sharp gasp escaped his throat. The water bit at his skin, chasing away any lingering drowsiness but leaving him shivering almost instantly. He tried to be quick — shampoo, rinse, scrub, rinse again — but even so, his fingers were already stiff by the time he reached for the towel.

He rubbed his hair dry, shoulders hunched against the lingering chill. There was no luxury of heated water here, no comforting steam to make it easier. Just the bare minimum.

By the time he was dressed, his body felt almost frozen. That was reason enough to dig out the thickest layers he owned: thermal shirt, oversized sweater, navy puffer coat. He looped his scarf snugly around his neck until it covered half his face, tugged on gloves and a beanie, and glanced at the mirror. He barely looked like himself — more like a bundled-up version of a pocket-sized snowman.

The cold outside hit the moment he left, but compared to the shower, it was almost bearable. Breath puffing out in small clouds, he made his way to the station, spotting Heeseung leaning against a lamppost near the ticket machines.

When Heeseung looked up and saw him, his mouth twitched, amusement sparking in his eyes.

Sunoo was almost swallowed by the layers he wore — thick navy puffer coat zipped up to his chin, scarf wound so snugly around his neck it nearly covered his face. A beanie sat low over his hair, and only the smallest strip of his cheeks and eyes peeked out, pink from the cold.

Heeseung felt an entirely irrational urge to squish him. Or maybe just wrap his scarf tighter, even though it clearly didn’t need it. Something about the way Sunoo looked right now — like he was one step away from curling into a ball and rolling away — sent a strange, buzzing warmth through him.

Oh, how Heeseung wanted to just squish Sunoo into his pocket.

He blinked, trying to school his expression before Sunoo noticed, but the corners of his mouth still lifted anyway.

“…What?” Sunoo asked warily, voice muffled by the scarf as he slowed to a stop in front of him.

Instead of answering, Heeseung reached out, fingers curling lightly in the knit fabric and tugging it down just enough to reveal Sunoo’s mouth. “At least show your mouth,” he teased, grinning. “How am I supposed to know if you’re talking or just glaring at me under there?”

Sunoo huffed, a puff of white breath slipping into the cold air. “Maybe I like it this way.”

“Yeah, I bet you do,” Heeseung said, letting go of the scarf but not quite wiping the smirk off his face.

Sunoo adjusted the scarf back into place, muttering something under his breath that Heeseung didn’t catch.

“Come on,” Heeseung said, nudging him lightly in the shoulder before stepping toward the ticket machines. “The exhibition’s not gonna wait for us.”

They bought their tickets and stepped onto the platform, the train rumbling in moments later. The ride to the mall was short, but warm air inside the carriage made the contrast to outside feel almost too sharp. Sunoo pressed closer to the door, keeping his coat zipped tight, while Heeseung stood beside him, hands shoved in his pockets.

“What kind of exhibition is this, anyway?” Sunoo finally asked, breaking the quiet.

“You’ll see,” Heeseung replied, a little too casually. “It’s winter-themed.”

“That could mean anything,” Sunoo said, eyeing him.

“Exactly,” Heeseung said, his lips twitching again. “You’ll find out when we get there.”

The first thing Sunoo noticed when they stepped inside was the light — soft and cool, bouncing off every frozen surface. The second thing was the sound; it wasn’t just music playing faintly over the speakers, but the low murmur of other visitors, footsteps crunching on the frost-dusted flooring.

They started with the snow sculptures near the entrance — towering pieces carved into forests, animals, and curling abstract shapes. Each one seemed to catch a different shade of blue or white depending on the angle.

Sunoo lingered in front of an ice fox, the details so sharp it almost looked alive. He crouched slightly, scanning the way its tail curled around its paws. “How long do you think it takes to make something like this?”

“A while, probably,” Heeseung said, standing a step behind him. “But I feel like you’d get halfway and it’d melt on you.”

Sunoo’s scarf shifted slightly when he laughed, the sound soft but warm. “That’s… kind of depressing.”

They moved slowly, weaving through displays of hanging snowflake cutouts and tunnels lined with shimmering ice walls. Every so often, Heeseung would glance sideways, catching the way Sunoo’s eyes darted from one thing to the next — not in a rushed way, but with the quiet curiosity of someone letting himself just… enjoy something.

When they reached a corner where the light pooled onto an arrangement of crystal-like stalactites, Heeseung pulled his phone from his pocket. “Stand there for a sec.”

“What? Why?” Sunoo asked, immediately suspicious.

“Just — trust me.” Heeseung gestured for him to move a little to the left. “The lighting’s good here.”

Sunoo frowned but shuffled over, and Heeseung took a quick photo. He didn’t show it right away, just smirked and slipped the phone back into his coat.

“…You’re annoying,” Sunoo muttered, walking ahead.

“And yet you didn’t stop me,” Heeseung replied easily, falling into step beside him again.

They passed a section of miniature displays next — snow globes the size of basketballs, each with its own tiny scene inside. One had a little train looping around a snowy village; another had a fox darting between trees.

Sunoo stopped at one with a frozen pond in the center, a figure skating alone beneath string lights. The movement inside was slow and fluid, almost hypnotic.

“You like that one?” Heeseung asked.

Sunoo nodded once. “It’s… quiet. I like it.”

For a while, neither of them said much, just letting the atmosphere settle around them. And if Heeseung found himself watching Sunoo more than the art — well, he didn’t exactly stop himself.

They drifted toward the back of the exhibition, where the crowd thinned and the lights dimmed to a soft twilight glow. Here, the displays were smaller but more intricate — delicate snowflakes carved from glass, each one suspended in a cube of clear ice.

Sunoo paused in front of one, his breath fogging faintly as he leaned closer. “They’re all different,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“That’s how snowflakes work,” Heeseung teased lightly.

Sunoo turned his head just enough to give him a flat look, but the corners of his mouth pulled upward. “I know that. I meant… it’s crazy they managed to carve them without breaking anything.”

Heeseung shrugged, pretending to study the display next to it. “Maybe they’re just better at focusing than you.”

The small huff of laughter he got in return felt like a win.

Further along, a tall archway of ice framed the path, each block etched with winter scenes — sleds, pine trees, frozen lakes. As they walked under it, Sunoo brushed his gloved hand along the frosted surface, leaving a faint streak behind.

“You’re gonna get frostbite doing that,” Heeseung said, catching the motion.

Sunoo pulled his hand back into his coat sleeve. “I’m wearing gloves.”

“Not very thick ones,” Heeseung countered, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

The last section was a “winter forest” — rows of white-painted trees dusted with artificial snow, string lights wound through their branches. The path twisted and narrowed, leading them past benches and small alcoves where people lingered.

They slowed near a bench where the lights caught in Sunoo’s hair, a faint gold halo against the cooler tones around them.

“You look like you belong here,” Heeseung said before he could stop himself.

Sunoo blinked at him. “…That’s a weird thing to say.”

“Not weird. Just true.”

The scarf made it hard to see if Sunoo’s mouth twitched in embarrassment, but the way his gaze dropped said enough.

They lingered there for a moment longer, then made their way to the exit.

___

The warmer air of the mall hit them as soon as they stepped out of the exhibition space, a faint trace of cinnamon and coffee drifting from somewhere nearby.

“You eat before you came?” Heeseung asked, glancing at him.

Sunoo shook his head, scarf shifting with the motion. “No. Didn’t feel like it.”

Heeseung stopped walking, giving him a look that was half disbelief, half exasperation. “It’s already noon, Sunoo.”

“I’m fine,” Sunoo said, but the rumble of his stomach immediately betrayed him.

Heeseung’s brows lifted. “…Right. Fine.” He jerked his chin toward the escalator. “Come on.”

“Where?”

“Food court. I’m not letting you starve.”

A small smirk tugged at Sunoo’s lips. “I’ve starved more times than you can imagine.”

Heeseung didn’t miss a beat. “And I’m not letting that happen anymore. Not when I’m here.”

The words landed heavier than Sunoo expected, slipping under his skin before he could deflect them with another joke. His heart stuttered, and he quickly looked away, pretending to adjust his scarf as they stepped onto the escalator.

The food court wasn’t crowded, just the low murmur of shoppers and the occasional hiss from the open kitchen stalls.

They wandered between options until Heeseung stopped at a stall serving steaming bowls of tteokguk and kimchi dumplings. “This okay?”

“Yeah,” Sunoo said quietly, though the way his eyes lingered on the menu suggested he was more than okay with it.

They found a table near the window, the winter light spilling in pale and soft. Heeseung returned a few minutes later with a tray — two bowls of tteokguk, dumplings between them, and a pair of bottled teas.

“You didn’t have to—”

“Eat,” Heeseung cut in before he could finish, sliding one of the bowls toward him.

The first sip of broth made Sunoo close his eyes briefly, warmth spreading from his chest outward. Heeseung pretended not to notice, focusing on his own bowl, though a small smile tugged at his mouth.

By the time they finished, Sunoo’s scarf was loose around his neck, and the faintest flush had returned to his cheeks.

____

“What now?” Sunoo asked, tugging his scarf back up as they walked.

Heeseung tilted his head toward the escalator. “There’s an arcade upstairs. You ever been?”

Sunoo shook his head. “Not really.”

“Then we’re going,” Heeseung decided without missing a beat.

The arcade was a flood of bright lights and muffled game sound effects spilling into the hallway. Sunoo slowed as they stepped inside, eyes darting from the claw machines to the flashing rhythm games. He didn’t say anything, but there was a spark in his gaze that Heeseung caught instantly.

When they reached the token counter, Sunoo handed over just enough for a single game.

“That’s it?” Heeseung asked.

Sunoo shrugged, forcing nonchalance. “It’s enough.”

Heeseung didn’t push. Instead, he stepped up, exchanged a bill for a heavy clink of tokens, and split them into two neat stacks. Without a word, he pressed half into Sunoo’s palm.

“Heeseung—”

But before Sunoo could finish, Heeseung’s fingers curled over his hand, holding the tokens there. “Come on.” His tone was light, but his grip was firm, steering them toward the nearest game.

Sunoo followed, his protests dying in his throat. The tokens felt warm in his hand, but not nearly as much as the unspoken kindness behind them.

The first game they stopped at was a simple basketball shooter.

“You’re tall,” Sunoo said, eyeing the hoop. “This isn’t fair.”

“That’s the point,” Heeseung smirked, feeding in the tokens. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

Sunoo rolled his eyes but picked up a ball. The buzzer sounded, and they both started shooting.

To Sunoo’s quiet satisfaction, his first few shots went in cleanly. But Heeseung, of course, was sinking them one after another with irritating ease.

“Are you even trying?” Sunoo muttered.

“Hey, you said it wasn’t fair,” Heeseung shot back, grinning. “Might as well live up to it.”

By the time the timer ran out, Heeseung had won by a wide margin, but Sunoo’s score wasn’t bad at all.

Heeseung was about to lead them to the next game when Sunoo glanced up at him, voice lighter than usual.

“I’ve never been to an arcade before,” he said. “So I’m gonna have to trouble you with teaching me every game we’re gonna play.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “Trouble me? You just gave me an excuse to crush you at everything.”

Sunoo gave him a mock glare. “We’ll see about that.”

Next, they moved to the air hockey table. Sunoo stood across from Heeseung, a small frown of concentration creasing his brows.

“You’re gonna lose,” Heeseung warned.

Sunoo’s only answer was to send the puck flying.

The game was fast and loud, punctuated by the sharp clack of the puck and the occasional sharp inhale from Sunoo when it came too close to his goal. Heeseung scored first, but then Sunoo caught him off guard with a quick rebound, smirking faintly when it slipped into Heeseung’s net.

“You’re smug for someone who’s still losing,” Heeseung teased.

But the more they played, the more Sunoo’s focus narrowed, and the more that faint, rare curve of his lips stayed in place.

By the time they wrapped up, Heeseung could see the faint flush on Sunoo’s cheeks—not from embarrassment, but from genuine enjoyment.

As they walked away from the table, Sunoo mumbled, almost as if to himself, “This was… fun.”

Heeseung glanced at him, catching the way he quickly looked away. “Good,” he said simply, shoving his hands into his pockets. “We’re not done yet.”

From air hockey, Heeseung led them to a row of racing simulators.

“Ever driven before?” Heeseung asked as he slid into one of the seats.

Sunoo raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like I own a car?”

“That’s a no,” Heeseung chuckled, feeding in the tokens. “Guess I’m teaching you again.”

The race started, and Sunoo’s car swerved wildly down the digital track. “This thing’s too sensitive!” he complained, gripping the wheel like it might bite him.

“Or maybe you just suck at driving,” Heeseung said, effortlessly drifting through a corner.

By the time the race ended, Sunoo had somehow driven his car straight into a guardrail, earning last place. He groaned and dropped his head against the wheel while Heeseung laughed under his breath.

“Next,” Heeseung said, clearly enjoying himself, “we’ll try something you can’t crash.”

That “something” turned out to be a rhythm game—bright lights, loud music, and four panels to stomp in time with the beat.

Sunoo hesitated in front of it. “You’re seriously expecting me to—”

The game started before he could finish, forcing him to scramble to match the arrows on the screen. His timing was rough at first, but then he started catching the rhythm, the corners of his mouth tugging up as he stomped the right steps in time.

When the final note hit, Sunoo looked up, breathless but smiling faintly. “That was… actually fun.”

“Of course it was,” Heeseung said, feeding in more tokens. “One more round.”

They stopped in front of a claw machine, its glass box crammed full of plushies.

Heeseung glanced at Sunoo, catching the way his eyes lingered on one corner. “What’s catching your attention?”

Sunoo gave a small shrug but lifted a hand to point. “That fox is kinda cute.”

“You want it?” Heeseung asked, already fishing a token from his pocket.

Sunoo shook his head. “You should get what you want instead.”

Heeseung just hummed, sliding the token into the slot. “Mm. I want the fox.”

With one steady maneuver, the claw descended, grabbed the plush cleanly, and dropped it into the prize chute. He bent down, retrieved it, and held it out toward Sunoo.

Sunoo blinked, caught off guard. “...For me?”

“Obviously,” Heeseung said.

Sunoo’s face went warm, and he quickly hid it behind a small scoff. “You’re ridiculously good at these kinds of things.”

A slow, smug smile tugged at Heeseung’s lips. “I’m good at everything.”

Sunoo rolled his eyes, but his grip on the plush tightened just a little.

They wandered out of the arcade, the muffled buzz of games fading behind them. Sunoo hugged the fox plush loosely in one arm, glancing around as they stepped into the open space of the mall.

“So… what now?” Sunoo asked, his tone light but uncertain.

Heeseung scanned the floor directory near the escalators. “There’s a skating rink here. Indoor, so you won’t freeze to death.”

Sunoo raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never skated before.”

“Perfect,” Heeseung said without missing a beat, already steering them toward the escalator. “I’ll teach you.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to—” Sunoo started, but Heeseung’s hand was already at the small of his back, guiding him forward.

“You didn’t say you didn’t, either,” Heeseung replied with a faint smirk.

Sunoo huffed, looking away so Heeseung wouldn’t see the reluctant smile tugging at his lips.

The skating rink was buzzing with activity — the scrape of blades on ice, bursts of laughter, and the muffled thump of music playing over the speakers. A chill lingered in the air, a stark contrast to the warm hum of the mall outside.

At the ticket counter, Sunoo reached for his wallet, but Heeseung was quicker, sliding his card across before Sunoo could protest.

“You didn’t have to—”

“Just enjoy it,” Heeseung cut in, handing him the ticket. “Or think of it as a welcome gift for joining the group.”

Sunoo frowned slightly. “Feels like a pretty expensive welcome gift.”

Heeseung grinned, already walking toward the rental counter. “What can I say? You’re worth the investment.”

By the time they laced up their skates, Sunoo’s fox plush was tucked safely into a small locker. Stepping onto the ice, though, was another story entirely.

Sunoo gripped the rail immediately, his legs wobbling like they had a mind of their own. “This is a mistake,” he muttered.

Heeseung skated over smoothly, stopping in front of him. “You’ve barely been on the ice for ten seconds.”

“That’s enough to know I’m bad at this.”

“Come on,” Heeseung coaxed, holding out his hand. “I won’t let you fall.”

Sunoo hesitated, then took it, letting Heeseung gently pull him away from the wall. Each step was shaky, his movements stiff, but Heeseung stayed close, steady and unhurried.

“Bend your knees a little,” Heeseung said, adjusting his grip to guide him. “And stop staring at your feet — look ahead.”

“That’s easy for you to say when you’re not about to break your neck,” Sunoo shot back, but there was no real bite in his voice.

They made slow progress around the rink, Heeseung occasionally tightening his hold when Sunoo’s balance faltered. At one particularly wobbly turn, Sunoo stumbled forward, his hands clutching at Heeseung’s arms.

“See? Not so bad,” Heeseung said softly.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Sunoo muttered, but there was a faint, embarrassed smile tugging at his lips.

“Maybe,” Heeseung admitted, eyes warm. “But only because you’re trying.”

And though Sunoo rolled his eyes, he didn’t let go of Heeseung’s hand.

They circled the rink slowly, Heeseung’s hand steady in Sunoo’s, the cold air brushing against their cheeks. Little by little, Sunoo’s steps grew less stiff, though his grip didn’t loosen.

“See? You’re already better than when we started,” Heeseung said.

“That’s a low bar,” Sunoo muttered, but his lips quirked up slightly.

When they reached a stretch where the ice was less crowded, Heeseung slowed to a stop. “Okay… you’re ready to try on your own.”

Sunoo’s head snapped toward him. “I’m not—”

But Heeseung had already let go.

The absence of his warmth was immediate. Sunoo froze, knees locked, eyes squeezing shut as if that would keep him upright.

A tiny, involuntary squeak escaped him.

Heeseung’s laughter burst out before he could stop it — not mocking, but light and warm. “You look like you’re bracing for an asteroid impact.”

Sunoo’s eyes stayed shut. “If I fall, you’re paying my medical bills.”

“You’re not gonna fall,” Heeseung said, still chuckling. He tugged his phone from his pocket, holding it steady just long enough to snap a picture — Sunoo in his oversized coat, scarf nearly to his eyes, cheeks pink from the cold, lips pressed tight as he stood frozen on the ice.

When Sunoo cracked one eye open, Heeseung quickly slid the phone back into his pocket, expression all innocence. “Alright, keep going — just a few steps.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Sunoo muttered again, but he shifted his weight forward anyway, taking a careful glide.

“Maybe,” Heeseung said, falling into step beside him once more. “But I told you — I’m not letting you fall.”

And this time, Sunoo didn’t even try to hide the faint smile tugging at his mouth.

___

They’d been skating long enough for Sunoo’s legs to start protesting, so when Heeseung suggested a break, he didn’t argue. They claimed a bench near the edge of the rink, hot chocolates in hand, the sweet steam curling into the chilled air.

Sunoo leaned back, letting the heat from the cup thaw his fingers, and unlocked his phone out of habit. The first thing he saw was the group chat — and staring back at him were two photos.

The first was from the winter exhibition: him in front of those crystal-like stalactites, scarf tucked under his chin, pale light brushing the tips of his hair. The second was from only minutes ago — him on the ice, oversized coat puffed out around him, scarf almost swallowing the lower half of his face, eyes squeezed shut as if bracing for disaster.

bunch of idiots (except Sunoo)

Heeseung:

(1 attachment)

Heeseung:

(1 attachment)

Sunoo’s head snapped to his left. Heeseung was calmly sipping his drink, eyes fixed on the rink like he hadn’t just broadcasted evidence of Sunoo’s humiliation to the entire friend group.

“…Seriously?” Sunoo’s voice came out low, flat — the kind of tone you used when you already knew the answer but asked anyway.

“What?” Heeseung said, without even bothering to look at him.

The chat was already alive.

Jungwon:

Heeseung hyung, you went out with Sunoo hyung and didn’t tell us?

Ni-ki:

Unbelievable. We wanted to see Sunoo hyung too.

Jungwon:

Look at him though. This is top-tier hyung content.

Ni-ki:

Agreed. Precious.

Jake:

I swear I’m gonna squish him. Those cheeks were made for pinching.

Jay:

He’s so bundled up it’s unfair. Sunoo, you deserve the biggest cookie for this.

Note to self: bake Monday.

Sunghoon:

Your form on the ice… something else, Sunoo

Sunoo:

At least I was on the ice.

Sunghoon:

lol fair.

Jake jumped back in.

Jake:

Wait, is this why you didn’t answer the chat earlier? You were out being cute?

Sunoo:

stop being ridiculous.

Jungwon:

Lmao no need to deny hyung.

Sunoo’s eyes flicked to Heeseung again, who was still wearing that infuriatingly faint smirk — like he was enjoying the chaos he’d started far too much.

“You’re ridiculous,” Sunoo muttered under his breath.

“And you’re welcome,” Heeseung replied, taking another slow sip of his drink.

Sunoo looked away before Heeseung could see the corner of his mouth twitch upward.

____

They lingered on the bench for a while longer, the hum of the rink filling the pauses between sips of hot chocolate. Beyond the glass walls, the mall’s upper level was lit in a warm, golden glow, shoppers moving unhurriedly beneath strings of decorative lights.

Eventually, the cups were empty, and Sunoo’s legs had recovered enough for him to stand without wobbling. They tossed their cups into the nearby bin and made their way toward the exit, the sound of blades on ice fading behind them.

The air outside the rink felt different — warmer somehow, even though the mall’s temperature hadn’t changed. Maybe it was just the contrast after the chill of the ice.

“You tired?” Heeseung asked as they walked.

“A little,” Sunoo admitted. “But not in a bad way.”

They reached the escalator, and Sunoo’s scarf shifted slightly when he looked up. Without thinking, Heeseung reached over and tugged it back into place.

“Don’t catch a cold,” he said, tone casual but eyes lingering a second too long.

Sunoo’s gaze darted away, focusing on the floor below. “…You’re overreacting.”

“Maybe,” Heeseung said, but he didn’t move his hand until they stepped off the escalator.

The walk to the station was quiet at first, but not in a way that felt awkward. The evening mall noise faded behind them, replaced by the steady rhythm of their steps and the faint hum of traffic in the distance.

“You still thinking about that fox plush?” Heeseung asked suddenly.

Sunoo’s eyes narrowed over the edge of his scarf. “No.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re even clutching your bag tighter.”

Sunoo huffed, loosening his grip out of spite. “It’s called making sure I don’t lose it.”

Heeseung smirked but let it drop, glancing at him sidelong. “So… first time at an arcade, first time skating… not bad for one day.”

“It was fine,” Sunoo said, but the faint lift at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

“Fine?” Heeseung feigned offense. “I practically gave you the deluxe tour.”

Sunoo’s voice was muffled by his scarf, but his tone was dry. “Guess I’ll leave you a glowing review online, then.”

“That’s all I ask.”

They reached the platform, the cold air pooling heavier in the open space. Sunoo’s breath fogged faintly in front of him. “It’s weird, having a whole day off,” he said after a beat. “I didn’t know what to do with it.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I called,” Heeseung replied.

Sunoo gave a small nod, eyes fixed on the approaching train lights. “…Yeah. It was better than spending the day staring at my ceiling.”

The train slowed to a stop. Before Sunoo stepped on, he glanced at Heeseung, the corners of his eyes soft. “Thanks for today.”

Heeseung’s lips curved slightly. “Anytime.”

The doors slid open, and Sunoo stepped inside. Just before they closed, Heeseung leaned a little closer, his voice low enough that it barely carried. “Get home safe, Sunoo.”

Sunoo didn’t reply, but the way he kept his head down didn’t hide the warmth creeping up his ears.

The ride home was quiet, the train swaying gently as the day’s noise faded into a low hum. By the time Sunoo stepped off at his stop, the streets were calmer, the chill sharper. He tucked his scarf higher and made the short walk home.

Inside, the air was still and faintly cold. He shrugged off his puffer coat, unwound his scarf, and swapped his jeans and sweater for loose sweats and a worn hoodie. His damp hair from the shower that morning had long dried, but the warmth of the apartment still felt thin against the winter air.

Dropping onto his bed, he reached into his bag sitting at the foot of it. His fingers brushed against soft faux fur, and he pulled out the little fox plush.

For a moment, he just held it up, turning it in his hands. The tiny stitched smile, the round ears — it was nothing fancy, just a claw machine prize. But… it was the first thing anyone other than his grandmother had ever given him.

And not just anyone.

Someone he… treasured.

The thought made his chest tighten in a way that was hard to name. He let out a slow breath, then pulled the plush close, tucking it against him as he lay back. The fabric was warm from his hands, but not nearly as warm as the feeling curling in his ribs.

The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge in the other room. Sunoo closed his eyes, the day replaying behind his eyelids — the sound of Heeseung’s laugh, the glide of skates on ice, the weight of tokens pressed into his palm.

He didn’t even notice when his breathing evened out, the fox still tucked in his arms.

___

Sunday morning crept in slow, pale light pooling across Sunoo’s small room. The fox plush lay tucked under his arm, exactly where it had been when he’d fallen asleep. His fingers curled around it instinctively, the soft fur warm from his body heat.

He let himself stay still for a while, eyes half-lidded. It was rare to wake without an alarm, rarer still to have nowhere he needed to be. Eventually, he reached for his phone on the bedside table.

The group chat was already buzzing.

bunch of idiots (except Sunoo)

Jake:

Ni-ki you better be awake, we’re running 3v3 later.

Ni-ki:

Nah. Sleep.

Jay:

Morning. Don’t burn the world down while I’m gone.

Jungwon:

You baking again?

Jay:

Maybe.

Jake:

Sunoo, you alive?

Sunoo typed back lazily:

Sunoo:

Morning.

Almost immediately, Heeseung’s name popped up.

Heeseung:

Busy today?

Sunoo glanced at the fox plush still in his arms. He’d been out late yesterday — for him, anyway — and his legs still felt heavy from skating.

Sunoo:

Nope. Just staying home.

A pause. Then:

Heeseung:

Alright. Rest. We’ll split parts tomorrow.

Jake:

Wow, he didn’t even try to drag you out.

Ni-ki:

Growth.

Heeseung:

Shut up.

Sunoo’s lips curved faintly. He set the phone aside, rolled onto his side, and hugged the fox plush closer. The apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of traffic outside. For once, he didn’t feel the usual pressure of needing to be somewhere.

Just one more day to himself before the final week started.

___

The rest of the group chat faded into idle chatter, and Sunoo left his phone on the nightstand. The fox plush stayed cradled against his chest, its soft fabric brushing his chin every time he shifted.

He didn’t get days like this. Normally, Sunday meant an early shift, or double shifts if someone needed covering. Even if he wasn’t at the restaurant, there had always been the convenience store at night.

Now, there was nothing.

He thought about pulling the blanket over his head and sleeping until noon, but the pale winter light seeping through the curtains made it harder to drift off again. Eventually, he dragged himself out of bed, feet hitting the cool floor.

The apartment was quiet in the way only winter mornings could be. He padded into the kitchen, put water on to boil, and pulled a packet of instant soup from the cabinet. It wasn’t fancy, but it was warm — and the steam that fogged his face when he leaned over the bowl made him sigh in relief.

After eating, he settled by the small window in his room, tucking his knees to his chest. The streets below were half-empty, a few bundled-up pedestrians moving quickly to escape the cold. Sunoo watched them without really thinking, fingers absently curling into the fox plush in his lap.

At some point, he put on music — nothing loud, just a soft playlist that drifted through the room while he scrolled aimlessly on his phone. He found himself humming a familiar melody, one that Heeseung had played on guitar earlier that week.

The tune stuck, looping over and over in his head.

By late afternoon, the light had turned golden. He curled up under his blanket again, soup bowl rinsed and left to dry, phone buzzing quietly with new messages he didn’t bother checking right away.

The fox plush was still in his arms when his eyes drifted shut.

___

The classroom was already buzzing when Sunoo walked in, scarf still snug around his neck. He barely had time to set his bag down before Jungwon spun around in his seat.

“You went out on Saturday and didn’t tell me?” Jungwon accused, frowning like Sunoo had committed a crime.

“I didn’t plan on it,” Sunoo said, sliding into his chair. “Heeseung invited me.”

That was apparently the signal for Ni-ki to join in, leaning over Jay’s desk to jab a finger at Sunoo. “Then you’re going out with me next time you’re free.”

“Uh, no. I asked first,” Jungwon shot back.

“You didn’t even know he was free!” Ni-ki argued.

“That’s not the point—”

Their voices overlapped, the argument looping into the same points. Heeseung strolled in halfway through, catching the tail end of it. He set his bag down at his desk, then crossed over to their corner, hands in his pockets.

“Why are you fighting over something you already lost?” His gaze slid to Sunoo, a small, knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m the one who spent Saturday with him, remember?”

Jungwon groaned. Ni-ki made a face. Sunoo ducked his head, pretending to adjust the strap of his bag.

Before either could fire back, Jay stood up and placed something on Sunoo’s desk — a massive cookie, still in its wrapping.

“The cookie I said you deserved,” Jay replied matter-of-factly. “For being unbearably cute the other day.”

Heat crept up Sunoo’s neck, and he busied himself opening the bag. “…Thanks.”

Across the table, Jake was trying to disappear into his hoodie as Ni-ki crouched dramatically to reenact Friday’s infamous soccer faceplant.

“And then—” Ni-ki flopped onto the floor. “Boom. Right on his face.”

“Shut up,” Jake groaned, swatting at him.

Jungwon, leaning against his desk, shook his head. “You missed the best part. His shoe actually came off.”

Sunghoon burst out laughing.

“IT WAS MUDDY!” Jake shot back, face red.

Sunoo just sipped from his water bottle, the corner of his mouth twitching.

Heeseung caught it and leaned closer, voice low enough for only Sunoo to hear. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Maybe,” Sunoo murmured.

“Noted,” Heeseung said, the smirk still in his voice.

The group’s chatter bounced around without any real direction.

“Speaking of the cafeteria,” Jake said, leaning back in his chair, “do not get the cream stew on Wednesdays.”

“It’s literally fine,” Sunghoon said.

“You didn’t get the lumpy one,” Jake shot back.

Ni-ki made a face. “Pretty sure I saw it move.”

“That’s because you were poking it like a science experiment,” Jungwon said, rolling his eyes.

Jay snorted. “It deserved to be poked.”

Before the topic could settle, Sunghoon pointed at Ni-ki. “Hey, did you ever return that manga to Jake?”

Ni-ki froze. “...It’s safe.”

“That’s not an answer,” Jake said, narrowing his eyes.

“It’s better than safe. It’s… cherished.”

“You lost it, didn’t you?”

“No,” Ni-ki said quickly, but the way he wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes had Jake lunging for him again.

Sunoo, who had been quietly watching the chaos, finally spoke. “I feel like half of your friendship is just you chasing Ni-ki around.”

“Yeah, well,” Jake said, straightening, “someone has to keep him in check.”

Ni-ki shrugged, unbothered. “Good luck with that.”

Jungwon laughed. “He’s right. It’s impossible.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Jake groaned.

Heeseung shook his head, the faintest smile on his lips as he glanced at Sunoo again — like the noise of the group was just background to watching him talk.

____

The bell rang, and the usual scrape of chairs filled the air as students moved to sit with their assigned partners. The desks were already arranged in pairs, but the shuffling and chatter still turned the classroom into a low hum of noise.

Sunoo slipped his pencil into his pocket and crossed the room to where Heeseung was sitting. Without a word, he pulled out Sunghoon’s chair and sat down.

Heeseung glanced up from the sheet of paper on his desk, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Comfortable?”

“It’s a chair,” Sunoo replied flatly, though his eyes flicked briefly toward the lyrics on the desk.

Heeseung pushed the paper a little closer to him. “We should start with the split. You’re taking this part after the first chorus — no arguments.”

Sunoo eyed the line in question, humming it quietly under his breath before shrugging. “It’s fine.”

“Fine?” Heeseung repeated, leaning back in his seat. “That’s your way of saying it sounds perfect but you don’t want to admit it.”

Sunoo rolled his eyes and propped his chin with hands. “Or maybe I just think it’s fine.”

“Sure you do,” Heeseung said, voice amused.

They bent over the paper together, the conversation slipping easily between quick decisions and light teasing. Around them, the rest of the class carried on in their own little pockets of noise, but for the moment, it felt like the two of them had their own quiet space carved out in the middle of it all.

Once they’d marked who would sing which lines, Heeseung tapped the desk lightly. “Let’s run it once. No backing out.”

Sunoo gave him a dry look. “You’re acting like I’m the one who’d back out.”

“You would if you thought you could get away with it,” Heeseung said, grinning.

He started first, leaning forward slightly as he sang his opening lines, the melody soft but steady. Even in the noisy classroom, Sunoo could hear the clarity in his tone — rich and warm, like it filled the space around them without trying too hard.

But from Heeseung’s side, he wasn’t thinking about the noise. He was watching Sunoo, waiting for that moment when he’d sing — and when it came, it still caught him off guard. That light, clear tone, the way every note seemed to carry a subtle warmth beneath the brightness… it was unfair. The kind of voice that made you want to lean in just to catch the smallest details. He remembered thinking the first time he heard it that it didn’t fit someone who claimed he couldn’t sing. Hearing it again now, even in such a casual setting, was worse — because he didn’t want it to stop.

When Sunoo finished his part, Heeseung’s expression softened before he could stop it. He didn’t say anything right away, just nodded once. “Told you that part would suit you.”

Sunoo ducked his head, pretending to look at the lyrics. “…It’s fine.”

“Sure,” Heeseung said again, but his eyes lingered, tracing the faint pink at the tips of Sunoo’s ears.

They kept going, trading lines and adjusting small details, their voices weaving together until the melody felt complete. Every time Sunoo’s part came in, Heeseung found himself focusing on it a little too much — the crispness in his high notes, the softness in his quieter lines. 

The low buzz of chatter filled the classroom as everyone worked in pairs. Heeseung’s pen tapped absently against his notebook while Sunoo read over the scribbled lyrics from last week.

Across the room, Jungwon groaned loud enough for half the class to hear. “Jake hyung, that’s not how the melody goes.”

“It’s called interpretation,” Jake argued, strumming his desk like a guitar. “I’m giving it character.”

“You’re giving me a headache,” Jungwon muttered, but he was already trying to guide him back on tempo.

At the next table, Ni-ki leaned back in his chair, balancing it dangerously on two legs while Jay crossed out a whole section of lyrics.

“You can’t just delete my verse,” Ni-ki complained.

Jay didn’t even look up. “I can if it doesn’t make sense.”

“It makes perfect sense.”

“To who? Aliens?” Jay replied, earning a few snickers from nearby classmates.

Sunghoon sat near the window with Yunjin, both quietly harmonizing through a few lines. Every so often, Yunjin would shake her head and Sunghoon would adjust his pitch, easy and focused.

Back at Heeseung’s desk, Sunoo leaned in slightly. “So… we’re splitting the second verse?”

“Yeah,” Heeseung said, jotting down the lines quickly. “I’ll take the first two lines, you do the next three. We’ll run it again tomorrow.”

Sunoo nodded, sliding the notebook back toward him. “Alright.”

The teacher clapped her hands once from the front. “Remember, everyone — your performances are this Friday. Make sure your lyrics and melodies are finalized by Wednesday so you can use the last two days to rehearse.”

Groans rippled through the room. The bell rang, and chairs scraped as partners drifted back to their own seats.

“Same time tomorrow?” Heeseung asked.

“Yeah,” Sunoo said simply.

By the time they packed up, Jake was already trying to rope the others into a lunch plan, Jungwon was still muttering about melody accuracy, and Ni-ki was promising to sneak his deleted verse back in when Jay wasn’t looking.

___

By the time the hallway started to clear for lunch, Jake had somehow wrangled everyone into heading to the cafeteria together.

“Sunoo, you’re coming, right?” Jungwon asked, falling into step beside him.

“Yeah,” Sunoo replied, tidying his desk.

Heeseung walked just behind them, hands in his pockets, watching the way Ni-ki kept trying to shoulder past Jungwon like they were racing for the door.

“You’re both gonna trip if you keep that up,” Sunoo muttered.

“That’s fine,” Ni-ki said, smirking. “As long as I win.”

“In your dreams,” Jungwon shot back, but they slowed anyway.

In the cafeteria, they took over their usual table by the windows. Jake was the first to set down his tray, already pulling a carton of milk open. “Okay, I’m calling it now — my soccer club’s winning next week’s scrimmage.”

“You said that last time,” Ni-ki said through a mouthful of rice.

“And I was right.”

“You faceplanted.”

“That was part of the plan,” Jake said smoothly.

Sunoo gave him a look. “To lose balance and eat grass?”

Heeseung’s laugh was quiet but warm, and Jake threw his hands up. “Not you too, Sunoo.”

“Hyung, even I saw it,” Jungwon added.

“And I saw it twice,” Ni-ki said proudly.

Jake was still defending himself when his eyes landed on the small paper bag next to Heeseung's tray. “What’s that?”

Sunoo glanced down. “a giant cookie.”

“From Jay?” Jake asked knowingly.

Sunoo didn’t answer, just took out the big cookie and bit into it.

“I knew it,” Jake said. “I told you, Jay’s spoiling him.”

“Better than you trying to steal my food all the time,” Jay said dryly from across the table.

Jake held up his hands. “I’m just saying, if Sunoo can’t finish them—”

“I can,” Sunoo cut in, deadpan. “Don’t worry.”

The table broke into easy laughter, the kind that came naturally with them. Outside, the sky was pale and cold, but inside their little corner, it felt comfortably warm.

___

The final bell rang, cutting through the low hum of the classroom. Chairs scraped back, bags rustled, and the steady stream of students filing toward the door began.

Sunoo slid his notebooks into his bag, glancing across the room where Heeseung was zipping up his own bag. Jake, seated in front of him, twisted in his chair to say something, but Heeseung was already crossing the room toward Sunoo’s desk.

“You still coming over later?” Heeseung asked, stopping beside him.

Sunoo shook his head as he swung his bag onto one shoulder. “Can’t. Covering for one of my co-workers until nine.”

Jake’s voice carried over from across the room. “Then remember to take breaks! And actually eat. Don’t pull that ‘I forgot’ excuse again.”

“I won’t,” Sunoo replied, glancing over at him.

From his desk beside Sunoo, Jungwon leaned back in his chair. “Dinner, Sunoo-hyung. No skipping.”

Jay, passing by on his way to the door, added casually, “Don’t overdo it.”

Sunoo waved them off with a faint smile. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine.”

Heeseung’s gaze lingered a moment longer, his voice quieter than the rest. “Just text when you’re done.”

Sunoo met his eyes briefly before looking away. “Alright.”

The group drifted out in twos and threes, leaving the room quieter. Sunoo took his time heading out, the winter air waiting for him beyond the door.

____

The cold air outside bit at his cheeks as Sunoo stepped out of the school gates, the sky already tinted with the soft orange of early sunset. His breath came out in small clouds as he made his way to the family restaurant, pulling his scarf higher over his face.

Inside, the warmth and familiar scent of simmering broth greeted him. The place wasn’t busy yet, so he slipped into the back to tie on his apron and wash his hands.

“Thanks for covering,” his co-worker said as they switched places, shrugging on their coat. “It’s mostly just setting tables and taking the few orders that come in. Should be an easy shift.”

It was — steady enough to keep him moving, but never overwhelming. A couple of regulars greeted him warmly, and he busied himself refilling teapots, clearing plates, and checking in on the kitchen. By the time the clock hit nine, his shoulders were tired but not aching the way they did after the late-night convenience store shifts he used to have.

He stepped back outside, greeted by the sharper bite of the night air. The streets were quieter now, shop windows glowing against the darkness. Pulling his scarf close, he made the short walk home, the warmth of his apartment almost too inviting when he finally stepped inside.

His bag landed on the floor with a dull thud. He didn’t bother turning on the main light — just flicked on the small lamp near his bed. The apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the heater.

Kicking off his shoes, he sat on the edge of his bed for a moment before lying back, staring at the ceiling. It was the first time in a while he’d come home from work and not needed to rush into something else.

After a pause, he reached for his phone, thumb hovering over Heeseung’s chat. He typed a short message:

Sunoo:

 Just got home.

The reply came a minute later.

Heeseung:

 Good. Eat something before you sleep.

Sunoo huffed softly but didn’t argue. He sat up, peeled off his scarf, and padded into the kitchen to heat up a pack of instant soup, it wasn't much , it was enough.

By the time he finished, the quiet weight of the day had caught up to him. He changed into his pajamas, slid under the blankets, and let the warmth sink in. His eyes drifted to the small fox plush on the nightstand. Without thinking, he reached for it, pulling it close as sleep pulled him under.

Chapter Text

Thursday night crept in slower than usual. Sunoo lay on his side, the fox plush pressed against his chest, eyes wide in the dark. He tried to hum through the lyrics one more time, but his throat felt tight, every note catching on nerves he couldn’t quite shake.

It was just class. Just their music project. Everyone else would be performing too.

And yet, the thought of standing there — with eyes on him, his voice exposed — made his palms sweat even in the cold.

By the time his alarm rang the next morning, he felt like he’d hardly slept.

The shift at the family restaurant went by in a blur. Chopping scallions, stacking plates, wiping counters — his hands moved on autopilot while his stomach twisted tighter with every passing minute. He left at eight, scarf pulled up high, and by the time he reached the school gates, it was already 8:15.

Inside the classroom, the usual cluster of his friends had already formed by the window. Heeseung was there too, leaning casually against Jungwon’s desk, but his eyes flicked up the moment Sunoo stepped inside.

Sunoo set his bag down quietly and kept his gaze low, but it didn’t stop Heeseung from noticing the stiffness in his shoulders, the way he fiddled with the strap of his bag instead of joining the group.

A moment later, Heeseung straightened. “Sunoo. Come with me a sec.”

Before Sunoo could ask, Heeseung was already at the door, glancing back expectantly.

They ended up in the hallway just outside, where the morning chatter from the classroom dulled into a low hum.

“You’re nervous.” It wasn’t a question.

Sunoo’s lips parted, then pressed together again. He looked away. “…It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” Heeseung’s tone was calm, but the warmth beneath it was steady, grounding. “You’ve been great every time we practiced. You’re ready.”

Sunoo let out a slow breath, shoulders sagging. “It’s different when it’s just us. Today… everyone’s going to hear.”

Heeseung shifted closer, lowering his voice. “Then let them. You’ve worked hard. And you’re not doing this alone — you’ll be right there with me.”

The knot in Sunoo’s chest loosened, if only a little. He hadn’t realized until now how much lighter the words felt when Heeseung said them, how the sharp edge of his nerves dulled just standing here in the quiet with him.

“Trust me. We’ll be fine.”

Sunoo looked up, and for a moment, the steadiness in Heeseung’s gaze was enough to steady him too. He swallowed, nodding once. “…Okay.”

Heeseung smiled — brief, small, but so warm it lingered. Something inside him softened at the sight of Sunoo finally easing.

“Good,” he said. “Now let’s get through class, and we’ll blow them away later.”

Heeseung slid the classroom door open, letting Sunoo step in first. Their desks were on opposite sides of the room, but habit pulled them both toward the same spot — the window corner where Sunoo and Jungwon sat, with Jay and Ni-ki right in front of them.

The noise level spiked as soon as Sunoo set his bag down.

“Hyung!” Jungwon straightened in his chair, relief flickering over his face. “Where’d you go? You vanished with Heeseung hyung right after arriving.”

Ni-ki twisted around in his seat beside Jay, suspicion written all over his grin. “Hyung practically dragged you away like we were going to steal you from him.”

Sunoo paused mid-motion, halfway to pulling out his notebook. “…We were just talking.”

Jake, who had abandoned his desk across the room to lean against Jungwon’s, raised a brow. “ ‘Just talking,’ huh. That’s always how it starts.”

Jay didn’t even look up from the comic he was reading. “That’s rich, coming from you. You can’t even talk without tripping over your own words.”

“Hey!” Jake glared, though it lacked real heat.

Sunghoon strolled over last, hands tucked in his pockets, and nodded toward Sunoo. “Ignore them. They’re just fishing.”

“You guys are loud,” Sunoo muttered, but the corner of his mouth tugged upward.

“Loud with love,” Jungwon said cheerfully, poking Sunoo’s arm. “Anyway, you owe me some one-on-one time during break.”

“Hyung owes me first,” Ni-ki countered instantly. “We already agreed.”

“You agreed with yourself,” Jungwon shot back, glaring at him across the desk.

Their bickering escalated in seconds, drawing a couple of amused glances from nearby classmates.

Sunoo stared at them for a beat, then deadpanned, “Not like I said yes to either of you.”

That earned a laugh from Heeseung, who was leaning casually against Jungwon’s desk, watching the whole scene unfold. Sunoo risked a glance at him — and immediately looked away again when he caught the soft curve of Heeseung’s smile.

The bell rang, scattering the noise into motion as students shuffled to pair up for the first period, literature

 Chairs scraped, bags shifted.

“Music is the second period,” Jake announced, stretching his arms. “Final week, final boss.”

“Try not to faceplant in the middle of performing,” Ni-ki said dryly.

“Shut up,” Jake shot back, shoving his shoulder as they headed to their seats.

Sunoo stood, brushing imaginary dust from his uniform. His nerves hadn’t disappeared, but with the familiar noise around him — his friends, their banter, even their bickering — the knot in his stomach felt looser.

___

The literature teacher didn’t even bother with a pretense of a lesson. She dropped her bag on the desk, looked over the class, and said, “Do whatever you want. Just don’t burn the place down. And stay in your seats.” With that, she left, shutting the door behind her.

A ripple of laughter and chatter spread across the room. Some students pulled out their phones, others leaned into whispered conversations. By the window, Sunoo sat with his chin in his palm, quietly watching the sky outside.

“Hyung,” Jungwon’s voice cut through, pulling him back. The younger had swiveled in his seat to face him. “Don’t tell me you’re already zoning out.”

Sunoo blinked. “What else am I supposed to do?”

Jay chuckled from the desk in front. “Fair point. It’s not like we’re gonna get graded on how well we stare at our books today.”

“Exactly.” Ni-ki leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head. “This is rehearsal for being unemployed.”

Sunoo gave him a flat look. “You’d ace that, then.”

“Wow.” Ni-ki clutched his chest like he’d been wounded. Jungwon laughed, the sound bubbling out easily.

“You should focus on your real goals instead,” Jungwon said, ignoring Ni-ki’s dramatics. “Like me.”

Jay arched an eyebrow. “Here we go.”

Jungwon grinned, unbothered. “Next year, I’m aiming for vice president of the student council.”

Ni-ki snorted immediately. “You’re not even done with your first year yet and you’re already eyeing the big chair.”

Jay leaned back to glance at Sunoo, smirking. “This is what I deal with all the time.”

But Jungwon only shrugged, calm as ever. “It’s not that far-fetched. The president already trusts me. And it’s not like my reputation hurts.”

“Reputation?” Sunoo repeated before he could stop himself.

Jay picked up smoothly, eyes glinting. “You didn’t know? Jungwon’s the golden child of this place. First-ever student in school history to get into the council as a first year.”

“Not to mention,” Ni-ki added, pointing lazily, “teachers already pile responsibilities on him like he’s their personal assistant. It’s kind of insane.”

Sunoo’s brows lifted. He knew Jungwon was younger — a year younger than him, technically — and he’d had a vague sense that people held him in high regard. But hearing it laid out like that… it was something else. He blinked at Jungwon, who didn’t look smug, just quietly confident.

“Didn’t know that,” Sunoo admitted.

Jungwon grinned. “Well, now you do.”

Jay shook his head, though there was fondness in it. “Don’t let him fool you. He acts all humble, but he eats this up.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Ni-ki said. “Hyung’s just jealous.”

Jay scoffed, but the twitch at his lips gave him away.

“Speaking of prodigies…” Ni-ki leaned forward, his grin sharpening. “I’m not doing so bad myself.”

“Here we go again,” Jungwon muttered.

“No, listen,” Ni-ki said, holding up a hand. “Two years younger than half the guys here, moved from Japan not even that long ago, and still keeping up. Second in the grade. Right after Jungwon-hyung. I may look like a delinquent but I don't slack with my academics,” he winked.

Jay rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue. “He’s not lying.”

Sunoo glanced at Ni-ki properly this time. He had known the boy was younger — he’d heard him call nearly everyone 'hyung' enough times — but the details made his stomach twist a little. Second place, after Jungwon. Effortless, it seemed.

“And then there’s Sunghoon,” Jungwon continued, eyes flicking across the room to where their classmate sat with Heeseung. “Candidate for the national figure skating team. Still manages to ace everything academic.”

“Yeah, but not more than Heeseung-hyung,” Ni-ki said. “If it weren’t for us, Heeseung would be the top student. Sunghoon would be second. Easy.”

Sunoo followed their gaze. Heeseung was leaning over something on his desk while Sunghoon said something that made him laugh. They looked like they carried the weight of everything so lightly.

He didn’t say anything, but he couldn’t help the flicker of awe that passed through him. One by one, he was learning that the people around him weren’t just friends with good humor and easy smiles. They were exceptional, in ways Sunoo had never really let himself think about.

And yet, somehow, they’d made space for him.

___

“You’re staring,” Ni-ki said suddenly, breaking Sunoo’s thoughts. His smirk was knowing. “Hyung looks impressed.”

Sunoo blinked, caught off guard. “...I’m just listening.”

“Same thing,” Jay said, grinning as he propped his elbow on his desk. “Don’t worry. Happens to everyone when they hear about Jungwon’s genius resume.”

“It’s not just me, though,” Jungwon cut in smoothly, turning his gaze to Jay. “You’re not bad yourself, Jay-hyung. Didn’t you join the school band this year? As a first year?”

Jay gave a small shrug, but there was pride in the corner of his smile.

“And that’s not easy,” Ni-ki added. “The school band has a reputation for being really strict. You don’t just walk in. You have to prove you’re worth their time. For them to scout Jay-hyung to be their guitarist? That’s huge.”

Jay waved them off, though his ears reddened slightly. “They just needed someone who could keep up.”

“Don’t let him downplay it,” Jungwon told Sunoo, leaning closer like he was letting him in on a secret. “Jay-hyung also goes busking sometimes. When he’s stressed or bored. He’s got a whole mini fanbase already.”

Sunoo’s eyes widened slightly. “Really?” He turned to Jay, a small, genuine spark of admiration in his voice. “I mean… I knew you could cook and bake. Didn’t think guitar was your passion too.”

Jay’s grin softened, a little sheepish but pleased. “Guess I’ve got layers.”

Before Sunoo could say more, Ni-ki nudged Jungwon with his knee. “What about Jake-hyung?”

“Right.” Jungwon leaned back, thinking for a moment. “Soccer club’s ace. Everyone knows that much.”

Sunoo nodded faintly. That, he did know — Jake’s name floated around the school often enough when it came to soccer.

“But,” Jay added, smirking, “what people don’t always know is that he also plays the violin.”

Sunoo turned toward him, startled. “...What?”

“It was just to pass time,” Ni-ki said, laughing. “Now he’s all about soccer. But yeah — he can actually play.”

Sunoo gaped a little, then let out a disbelieving laugh. “Violin is just passing time? That’s… ridiculous.”

The others chuckled, clearly enjoying his reaction.

“It’s true, though,” Jungwon said. “Academics-wise, Jake-hyung is average, apart from English and literature. But once he’s on the field, he makes up for it. Since he joined the soccer club, they’ve been winning every competition they enter.”

“Consecutive trophies,” Ni-ki added. “Every time.”

Sunoo leaned back, exhaling slowly. The longer he listened, the more surreal it felt. Each of them carried something that set them apart, something extraordinary.

And yet here they were, teasing each other, laughing easily, looping him into the conversation like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Ni-ki leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs. “Speaking of prodigies… what about Sunghoon-hyung?”

Sunoo perked up a little at that. He’d already heard bits from Heeseung before, but he hadn’t ever sat in on the group when they really talked about it.

“What about him?” Jay asked, lips quirking.

“Almost ten years on the ice,” Ni-ki said, ticking it off like a list. “From the first time he stepped on a rink, he was a natural. A literal prodigy. Wins gold almost every time.”

“This year alone, five gold medals,” Jungwon added. His tone carried the kind of matter-of-fact admiration only someone close could have.

Sunoo blinked. “Five… in one year?”

“Yep,” Jay confirmed, leaning back. “That’s why they’re sending him to the national team. Not just because of the wins, though. They’ve had their eyes on him for a while. This year just sealed the deal.”

Ni-ki sighed, his bravado dimming just a little. “That’s why he won’t have much time this holiday. He’ll be stuck in training.”

“Like always,” Jungwon muttered, though his tone was more wistful than bitter.

Sunoo didn’t say anything right away, his chest tightening faintly. He’d known about the practices, sure — Heeseung had mentioned them — but hearing it spelled out like this, how extraordinary Sunghoon was, made it hit harder. These boys weren’t just… ordinary classmates.

“Still,” Jay said after a pause, trying to lighten it, “he’s Sunghoon. He’ll find a way to show up eventually.”

They chuckled softly, and then Jungwon leaned in, his gaze shifting toward the other side of the room. “But if we’re talking standouts…”

Sunoo followed his line of sight, and his eyes landed on Heeseung. Sitting casually, head tilted toward Sunghoon as they talked, his profile calm, steady, almost too composed.

“Heeseung-hyung’s the most low-key of us all,” Jungwon went on. “Sure, he’s popular — most popular, actually. Looks and brains. Sunghoon-hyung’s only second to him.”

Ni-ki grinned. “He’s the school’s top ikemen. Doesn’t matter what he says. Even when he’s just sitting there breathing, people act like he’s about to charm them on purpose.”

Jay snorted. “But the truth is…” He leaned closer, dropping his voice like it was a secret. “He hates the attention.”

“Really?” Sunoo asked before he could stop himself.

Jungwon nodded. “He just puts up with it. But if you ask him, he’d rather none of it. Still doesn’t change the fact that half the school has a crush on him.”

Ni-ki tapped his pen against the desk. “And brains. He’s basically unbeatable in math and science. Music, too. Don’t even get me started.”

Jay laughed. “He composes songs just because. If you wanna hear them, Sunoo, you’ll have to raid the forbidden archive in his sacred laptop.”

“Forbidden archive?” Sunoo echoed, lips twitching.

“Joke,” Jungwon clarified, though his grin said he wasn’t entirely joking. “But seriously, they’re all in there.”

“And don’t forget the Olympiad,” Ni-ki said. “He won the finals this year. Brought home a giant trophy.”

“But told the school to keep it,” Jay added.

“Why?” Sunoo asked, brow furrowing.

They all shrugged.

“He never said,” Jungwon admitted. “We teased him about trying to act cool. He laughed with us, but still didn’t explain.”

Sunoo hummed softly, eyes drifting back to where Heeseung sat. He looked so at ease there, as though the weight of all those achievements, all that unwanted attention, slid right off his shoulders.

And yet… the more he learned, the more Sunoo’s chest stirred with something he couldn’t name. Something warm and unsteady.

He ducked his gaze quickly, before any of them noticed.

The others kept talking, Ni-ki and Jungwon joking again, Jay chiming in with dry comments — and Sunoo listened, smiled when it fit, but part of him was elsewhere.

Drawn, inevitably, to the boy across the room.

___

Ni-ki was still balancing his chair on two legs when he suddenly tilted his head at Sunoo. “You know… you never really talk about yourself, hyung.”

Jungwon nodded in agreement. “Yeah. We’ve all been talking for half the period now, and you’ve barely said anything except asking questions.”

Sunoo blinked, caught off guard by the sudden attention. He tugged lightly at his sleeve, lips curving in a faint smile. “…That’s because there’s nothing to say. You guys have, like, gold medals and bands and councils and whatever. I just… work. Go to class. That’s it.”

“See?” Jay said, pointing his pen at him. “That. You lower yourself way too much.”

Ni-ki leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “You’re not boring, hyung. Don’t act like it.”

Sunoo gave a small shrug, as if to say he wasn’t arguing but also wasn’t agreeing. “I mean, what do I even brag about?”

“Cooking,” Jungwon said instantly.

Sunoo’s brows furrowed. “Cooking?”

“Home economics last month,” Jungwon reminded him. “You made tteokbokki. The teachers wouldn’t shut up about how good it was.”

Sunoo blinked, genuinely surprised. “…You remember that?”

“Of course,” Ni-ki said. “The rest of us were stuck with burnt eggs and soggy rice cakes. Yours was the only one that looked edible. And you got praised for it.”

“Hey,” Jay cut in, bristling a little. “Mine wasn’t that bad. The teacher said it was fine too. Don’t lump me in with you guys.”

Ni-ki rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. The rest of us, then.”

Sunoo pressed his lips together, hesitant. “…I just made it the way I’ve seen at work. That’s not really a skill. Just muscle memory.” He caught himself before adding the part that sat heavier on his tongue — that’s what you learn when you’ve lived on your own for almost your whole life. Instead, he pushed the thought down, keeping his voice light.

Jay leaned back, arms crossing loosely. “Still counts. Most people can’t just pick things up like that. You did.”

Ni-ki smirked. “So next time we need food, we’re calling you, hyung.”

“Yeah,” Jungwon agreed, smiling faintly. “You say you’ve got nothing, but you do. You just don’t brag about it.”

Sunoo’s lips parted, but no words came out. He wasn’t used to people insisting he had… anything worth noticing. He fiddled with the edge of his notebook instead, trying to ignore the faint warmth rising in his chest.

Before he could come up with a reply, the bell rang, sharp and final. Chairs scraped back across the floor as students stretched and reached for their bags.

“Second period’s music, right?” Jungwon said, already gathering his notebook.

Ni-ki tipped his chair forward and stood, grinning. “Time for the performances.”

Jay slung his guitar case over his shoulder with a mock sigh. “Guess we’re finally being put on display.”

Sunoo tucked his pen away, the faint warmth from their words still lingering even as his stomach tightened at the reminder of what came next.

____

The class filed into the music room, the hum of chatter bouncing off the walls as everyone found their seats in pairs. The room smelled faintly of old wood and strings, lined with shelves of sheet music and instruments tucked into their stands.

Heeseung set his guitar case against the side of his chair, the familiar weight of it grounding him. Beside him, Sunoo shifted uneasily on the seat he’d taken—Sunghoon’s usual one—his eyes flicking from the rows of students to the piano in the corner, then back to his hands.

Their teacher clapped once, bringing the room to a hush. “Alright. You’ve all had time to prepare. Today, you’ll perform for each other. Think of it as practice for presenting to an audience.”

A few students groaned under their breath, but most just straightened, resigned.

The first pair was called up—two girls who had written a bright, bouncy pop song. They huddled around the keyboard, giggling nervously before starting, their voices blending as the melody filled the room.

Sunoo’s leg bounced under the chair. He tried to still it, but the energy wouldn’t leave him.

Next was another duo, this time two boys with a rap-heavy piece over a backing track. Then Jay and Ni-ki, with Jay on guitar and Ni-ki’s low voice carrying the hook. Their performance was met with scattered claps and impressed murmurs.

“Not bad,” Jay said casually when he and Ni-ki returned to their seats, though his ears were faintly pink.

Sunoo barely heard him. His focus had narrowed to the way Heeseung casually tuned his guitar, calm as ever, as though this wasn’t something to get nervous about at all.

Another group went up, this time Jake and Jungwon, their harmonies unexpectedly smooth despite Jake’s nerves showing in his restless shifting.

With each performance, the pressure in Sunoo’s chest grew tighter. His palms were clammy against his thighs, and when he risked a glance at Heeseung, the older boy was watching the performers with quiet attentiveness, his fingers resting easily on the guitar case.

Sunoo swallowed. Soon, it would be them.

___

Another pair was called—two classmates from the back row. They’d written a lighthearted duet, the kind that made people smile without realizing it. Their voices weren’t flawless, but they harmonized well, and by the time they finished, a ripple of claps filled the room.

Sunoo clapped too, though his palms felt damp. Each performance just made his chest tighter. Everyone was… good. Better than he expected.

The teacher glanced down at the sheet again. “Alright, next—Yunjin and Sunghoon.”

Sunoo’s breath snagged. Not their turn yet. Relief, brief but sharp, washed through him.

Yunjin rose gracefully from her seat, sheet music in hand, while Sunghoon picked up his violin case. They moved to the front together, exchanging a quick, quiet nod before beginning.

The moment Yunjin’s voice filled the room, Sunoo wasn’t surprised. He’d overheard people whispering about her before—how she’d been trained in opera since she was young. Now, hearing it up close, he understood. Her voice was rich, powerful, and startlingly controlled. It felt like it belonged on a stage far larger than their classroom.

Then Sunghoon’s bow met the strings, and Sunoo blinked. He’d almost forgotten Sunghoon even played. A figure skater, sure—elegant and precise on the ice. But a violinist? The notes were sharp, sure, but emotive too, weaving around Yunjin’s singing like they’d practiced together for years.

Of course he’s good, Sunoo thought faintly. If Sunghoon could turn skating into something close to art, then of course music would come just as naturally.

The song ended to loud applause, some classmates even whistling. Yunjin bowed politely, cheeks pink, while Sunghoon set his violin back into its case with practiced ease.

Beside Sunoo, Heeseung adjusted his guitar strap, unfazed. Calm. Ready.

Sunoo, on the other hand, could barely breathe.

 We’re next.

The applause for Yunjin and Sunghoon hadn’t even settled before the teacher glanced at the sheet again.

“Next—Heeseung and Sunoo.”

The words landed like a drop of ice water down Sunoo’s spine. His chair scraped louder than he meant when he pushed it back. A few heads turned, curious, but he kept his eyes low as he followed Heeseung to the front.

Heeseung walked like it was nothing, guitar in hand, expression calm and sure. Sunoo envied it. He tried to steady his breath, the fox plush from yesterday flashing in his mind—just breathe.

They reached the front, and Heeseung adjusted his guitar strap with practiced ease. “Ready?” he asked quietly, just for Sunoo.

Sunoo swallowed, nodding once. “Yeah.” His voice didn’t sound as steady as he wanted.

Heeseung gave him the faintest smile, one only he could see, before strumming the first chords. The sound filled the room, warm and full, anchoring Sunoo like a rope tossed to a man overboard.

Sunoo lifted his eyes, found the classmates watching, and then focused on the notes. On the words they’d written together. On Heeseung’s steady playing beside him.

The moment Heeseung’s guitar rang out, the room hushed. A few classmates leaned forward, clearly curious. The melody was familiar to Sunoo now, but it still carried that spark—the kind that lingered in his head long after he heard it.

Heeseung gave him a subtle nod. Your turn.

Sunoo drew in a breath and let the first line slip out. His voice was softer than intended at first, but clear, bright in tone, like sunlight sneaking through a crack in heavy curtains. By the second line, the steadiness of Heeseung’s strumming pulled him along, and he found the rhythm, letting his voice settle into it.

A few people exchanged glances—surprised, maybe. Sunoo didn’t look at them. He kept his eyes on the far wall, on the way Heeseung’s hand moved over the strings, anchoring himself there.

When the chorus came, Heeseung’s deeper voice slid in, harmonizing under his. The contrast made the melody bloom, Sunoo’s lighter, youthful tone rising above while Heeseung’s steadiness grounded it. Together, it sounded… fuller. Almost professional.

Sunoo felt something catch in his chest at the sound. So this is what it feels like to sing with someone like him.

He risked a glance sideways. Heeseung was focused on the strings, but there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. That tiny detail steadied Sunoo more than anything else.

By the second verse, Sunoo let himself lean into the lyrics, the words they’d shaped together. Not perfect, not polished like trained singers, but it was theirs. His voice carried clearer now, and when he hit a higher note, the resonance hung in the air longer than he expected.

Someone in the back whispered, audible in the silence between chords, “Wow.”

Sunoo’s ears burned, but he didn’t falter.

The bridge came, and Heeseung took the lead, his tone smooth, warm, sliding effortlessly through the melody. Sunoo listened for his cue, then joined back in—lighter, sweet, weaving over Heeseung’s voice like thread over fabric. For a moment, it didn’t feel like a school project. It felt like something meant to exist outside of this classroom.

When the final chorus hit, Heeseung slowed the strumming just slightly, giving Sunoo the space to linger on the last note. His voice carried, bright and clear, before fading into silence.

And the room erupted.

Applause, louder than the pairs before them. Some even whistled. Jungwon was grinning, Ni-ki clapping harder than necessary, Jake calling out, “That’s my boys!” while Sunghoon just gave an approving nod. Even Jay leaned back with his arms crossed, smirking.

Sunoo bowed quickly, face hot, before hurrying back to his seat.

Heeseung, of course, walked with unbothered ease, guitar still in hand. But when he sat down, he leaned just slightly toward Sunoo and murmured, “See? Told you we’d be fine.”

Sunoo kept his eyes forward, but the small, helpless smile on his lips gave him away.

___

The applause lingered a little longer than the earlier groups, enough for the teacher to stand and quiet the class with a few claps of their own.

“That was excellent,” the teacher said, eyes settling on the two of them. “Heeseung, I expected strong work from you, but pairing with Sunoo was an inspired choice. Your voices balance each other beautifully—bright and clear against steady and warm. That’s not an easy match to pull off, yet you made it feel natural.”

Sunoo ducked his head, fingers tightening on the hem of his sleeve. Praise directed at him felt foreign, like it had wandered into the wrong place.

“And,” the teacher continued, smiling faintly, “your lyrics were thoughtful. You captured emotion without overcomplicating it. Simplicity can be powerful when it’s honest—and that honesty came through.”

A murmur spread through the class. Not the distracted sort, but the kind where people actually agreed.

Heeseung gave a small bow of thanks, his usual calm demeanor intact, before nudging Sunoo lightly with his elbow. Sunoo, startled, scrambled to mirror the bow, his ears burning hot.

“Alright,” the teacher said, clapping once. “That sets the bar quite high. Next group, get ready.”

As the next pair shuffled to the front, Sunoo sank back into his chair, pulse still racing.

Heeseung leaned closer, voice low, just for him. “You did amazing.”

Sunoo stared at his desk, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at his lips. His chest still buzzed from both the performance and

those quiet words.

___

The hallway buzzed with chatter as groups spilled out of the music room. Heeseung slung his guitar case over his shoulder, walking at an easy pace beside Sunoo, who kept his gaze fixed on the floor as if it could hide the flush still clinging to his face.

Behind them, Ni-ki’s voice rang out. “Hyung!” He jogged a few steps to catch up, eyes gleaming. “That was so good! Seriously, you and Heeseung hyung killed it.”

Jungwon, not far behind, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you didn’t even look nervous once you started singing. It sounded… clean. Confident.”

Sunoo gave a small shake of his head, muttering, “It was mostly Heeseung.”

“Don’t do that,” Ni-ki said instantly, frowning. “You were great. Admit it.”

Jake popped up from the other side, grinning wide. “I almost forgot that was Sunoo singing up there—our quiet little guy. Then suddenly, boom. Bright, clear voice. I was like, where did that come from?”

Jay laughed. “Told you he had it in him. Honestly, Sunoo deserves a standing ovation and a giant cookie.”

Sunghoon raised a brow, smirking. “Good thing you’ve already given him one, then.”

Jay just shrugged, unbothered. “And I’ll bake more if I have to.”

Their bickering earned another laugh from Jungwon, while Ni-ki nudged Sunoo’s arm lightly. “See? You were amazing. We all know it.”

Sunoo glanced up at their faces—grins, teasing smirks, genuine smiles—and felt something unfamiliar but warm settle in his chest.

By the time they filed back into their classroom, the group was still buzzing with leftover energy from the performance. Chairs scraped as they dropped back into their seats—Jungwon next to Sunoo, Ni-ki and Jay in front, Heeseung and Sunghoon across the room with Jake already slouching into his chair.

“Hyung,” Jungwon said, leaning toward Sunoo as he unpacked his notebook. “Seriously. Don’t downplay it. You were amazing.”

Ni-ki nodded firmly, spinning halfway in his seat to face him. “Yeah. If you don’t believe us, too bad. We’re right.”

Jay grinned, chin propped on his palm. “Better get used to us bragging for you.”

Sunoo ducked his head, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself. “…You guys are too much.”

From across the room, Heeseung finally spoke, voice warm and easy, but carrying enough weight to silence the teasing.

“They’re not wrong, though.”

Sunoo looked up, just for a second, and found Heeseung watching him with that same small, steady smile—the kind that made his chest feel unsteady in ways he couldn’t explain.

___

The final bell rang, and the classroom spilled into the golden slant of late afternoon. Laughter and chatter filled the hallways as everyone packed up for the last time this year.

By the time they reached the front gates, the group naturally began to split.

Sunghoon adjusted the strap of his bag, glancing at Jake. “You’re still coming, right?”

“Yeah,” Jake grinned, bouncing a soccer ball against his hip. “I’ve got nothing ‘til next year anyway. And I promise I’ll get a picture if you wipe out on the rink.”

Sunghoon smacked the back of his head, not hard but enough to earn a squawk. “Try it and I’ll drag you down with me.”

“Worth it,” Jake muttered, rubbing his head, but his grin didn’t falter as the two of them headed down the street together.

Jungwon and Ni-ki fell into step with Jay, turning toward the opposite road.

“Hyung, I’m coming over tonight,” Ni-ki declared, eyes gleaming. “You and Jungwon hyung can’t stop me.”

Jay rolled his eyes but didn’t protest. “I figured. That’s why I told you both to bring your bags this morning. Just don’t eat my entire fridge.”

“No promises,” Jungwon said, deadpan, and Ni-ki barked a laugh. The three disappeared into the crowd, their voices carrying for a moment before fading.

That left Heeseung and Sunoo at the gate, the quiet between them not heavy, just… theirs.

Heeseung tilted his head at him. “Shift today?”

Sunoo nodded. “Family restaurant. Until seven-thirty.”

“Then I’ll walk you.”

Sunoo blinked. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” Heeseung’s tone was easy, leaving no room for refusal. He adjusted his bag and started walking, waiting for

Sunoo to follow.

And he did.

___

The cold air nipped at their cheeks as they made their way down the street, the crowd thinning the farther they got from school. Sunoo kept his hands tucked deep into his coat pockets, scarf pulled up high, while Heeseung adjusted his stride to match his.

They walked in comfortable quiet for a while before Heeseung spoke. “So… holiday plans. Think we’ll actually get everyone together?”

Sunoo hummed. “Depends. Sunghoon’s schedule sounds brutal. And I don’t know when I’ll be off work.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Heeseung said easily. “Even if it’s just one day. Barbecue, movies, something. You deserve at least that much.”

Sunoo shot him a sideways glance. “…You make it sound like you’re planning my holiday.”

“Someone has to.” Heeseung’s lips quirked. “Otherwise, you’ll spend the whole time running between shifts.”

Sunoo looked away, pretending to focus on the sidewalk ahead. “…Not untrue.”

“Exactly.” Heeseung’s tone softened, though. “We’ll make it happen. I’ll talk to the others.”

They turned a corner, the restaurant sign just a block away now. Sunoo thought that would be the end of it, but Heeseung spoke again, quieter this time.

“And… maybe we could do another outing. Just us. Like last time.”

Sunoo nearly missed a step. Heat crept up the back of his neck, and he was suddenly grateful for the scarf covering half his face. “…You mean… if I’m free.”

“If you’re free,” Heeseung agreed, amusement flickering in his eyes as though he’d caught the fluster Sunoo was trying to hide.

They walked the rest of the way with the conversation looping back to lighter things—how Jake would definitely fall on the ice before Sunghoon did, how Ni-ki was probably already raiding Jay’s kitchen, how Jungwon would scold him while still eating half the snacks himself.

When the glowing sign of the restaurant came into view, Sunoo slowed. “…Thanks. For walking me.”

Heeseung smiled, hands tucked in his pockets. “Anytime. Don’t work too hard.”

Sunoo nodded, slipping inside, heart still skipping over that one line.

-

Later that night, after his shift ended and the streets had gone quiet, Sunoo slipped into his room, the winter air still biting at his cheeks. He changed into fresh clothes, letting the warmth of the fabric soak into his chilled skin, then dropped onto his bed. The fox plush was waiting on the pillow, small and soft. Without hesitation, he tucked it under his arm.

The silence didn’t feel as heavy as it used to. Not the suffocating kind of quiet he’d lived with for years. Tonight it felt… softer. As though the echoes of laughter and voices still clung to him, filling spaces that used to be hollow.

It was strange, he thought, to be ending the school year like this. A year ago, it had only been work, school, sleep, repeat. Nothing more. He’d told himself it was fine, that he didn’t need anything else.

But now? Now there were people who waited for him, teased him, shared their food with him, pulled him into the circle like he belonged there all along.

He let out a slow breath, hugging the plush closer.

There were new memories that clung to him: the hum of a song he actually wanted to sing, the buzz of arcade games he never thought he’d touch, the sight of lights scattering across glass in a winter exhibition. All of them threaded with warmth, with the feeling of being seen.

And then there was Heeseung.

Sunoo shut his eyes tight, the thought almost too much. Heeseung’s voice came back to him, low and steady, the kind that made worries loosen their grip without him noticing. The look in his eyes when he teased, when he smiled, when he said things that felt heavier than the words themselves.

That look… it always lingered too long in his chest.

He didn’t know what to call it. Not yet. But his heart always seemed to answer before he could.

His grip on the fox plush tightened, the warmth in his chest a little too sharp, a little too sweet.

For now, he told himself, this was enough. Enough to hold onto, enough to keep him until tomorrow.

But even as sleep pulled him under, he couldn’t shake the truth curling at the edges of his thoughts—

—he was falling.

___

Sunoo hadn’t even realized it had been several days since the holiday started. The days blurred together into a rhythm of rushing between shifts, both at the family restaurant in the mornings and evenings, and the smaller noodle shop that claimed his afternoons.

Holiday break meant families filling the tables from open until close, kids clamoring for extra servings, and couples lingering long after their meals ended. It meant tips were better, sure, but it also meant Sunoo barely had a second to breathe.

His phone buzzed now and then with messages from the group chat—snippets of jokes, blurry photos from Jay’s apartment where Jungwon and Ni-ki were still camped out, Jake tagging along with Sunghoon to the rink—but most of the time, Sunoo could only glance at the screen before tucking it away again. By the time he got home at night, exhaustion dragged him straight to bed.

Meals were the same—whatever the restaurants offered him in passing, or a container of leftovers left in the kitchen when the rush slowed. Twice a day, if he was lucky. Small meals, nothing more.

His body felt heavier with each day, but he kept moving. He had to. Rest wasn’t a luxury he could afford, not when work came first.

And so, the days slipped past him, one after the other, until he almost forgot that winter break was supposed to feel different.

By the third day of break, Sunoo had stopped checking the calendar. It didn’t matter if it was Tuesday or Friday—the hours were the same, the faces the same, the ache in his shoulders the same.

At the family restaurant, he carried trays stacked high with steaming bowls, the clatter of chopsticks and chatter of families drowning out his own thoughts. At the noodle shop, he washed dishes until his fingers turned pruny, the faint smell of broth clinging to his clothes even after he changed.

Sometimes, he’d glance at his phone while slipping into the back hallway for a breath. The group chat blinked with life—Jake sending voice notes full of laughter, Ni-ki dropping memes, Jay reminding everyone to stop eating his cookies before he baked more. A few missed calls lingered too, unanswered.

He typed out replies once or twice, short words like yeah or I’m fine, but more often than not his thumb hovered over the keyboard before the screen dimmed.

By the time he trudged home each night, it was already late. He’d strip off his uniform, collapse on his bed, and barely manage to drag the blanket up before his eyes shut. His stomach would grumble sometimes, but he told himself he’d eaten enough, that the ache would pass once he fell asleep.

By the fifth day, his body moved on instinct alone. Order slips blurred into one another, trays lifted and lowered without thought. He barely registered the clinking of bowls anymore, just the ache growing heavier in his arms.

“Table four, Sunoo.”

He startled at the sound of his name, nearly knocking into a coworker rushing past with a tray. Adjusting his grip, he forced a nod, his feet dragging toward the waiting family. He managed a polite smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The mother thanked him; the children didn’t look up from their tablets. Sunoo bowed lightly, retreating as quickly as he came.

In the narrow corridor behind the kitchen, he leaned against the cool wall tiles for a moment, the smell of broth and oil pressing in on him. His head felt heavy, like it might tip forward if he let it.

“Hey,” one of the older servers said, frowning at him as she passed with a stack of bowls. “You should take a sip of water. You’re looking paler than you already are.”

“I’m fine,” Sunoo murmured automatically, pushing off the wall. His voice didn’t sound convincing, even to his own ears.

But there was no time to argue. Another call for service rang out, and he was already moving again.

When Sunoo finally stepped out of the restaurant, the night air hit sharp and clean. He exhaled, his breath curling white, and that’s when he noticed—snow.

It wasn’t much at first, just a scattering of flakes drifting under the glow of the street lamps, soft and steady. But within moments, the pavement was dusted white, roofs glittering faintly as if the whole street had been powdered with frost.

He stopped at the curb, watching it fall. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jake’s voice surfaced—loud and excitable in the group chat a week ago, swearing that the first snowfall was “like magic” and “something you were supposed to share with someone special.”

Someone you loved.

For half a second, Sunoo’s thoughts slipped toward Heeseung—the way his scarf tugged down to show his smile, the warmth in his voice whenever he spoke just to him.

His chest squeezed.

Immediately, he shook his head, tugging his hood up as if to block the thought. Ridiculous. He didn’t have the luxury of that kind of feeling. Not now. Not when he could barely keep his feet moving beneath him.

He hunched deeper into his coat and started walking, letting the snow collect on his shoulders.

By the time Sunoo got home that night, his phone was buzzing faintly on the desk. He didn’t bother checking it. Lately, he hadn’t been.

The group chat had been alive for days. Ni-ki and Jake were in constant competition over who could spam the dumbest memes, sometimes tagging Sunoo even though he never answered. Jay filled the silence with pictures of food, some burnt, some surprisingly good, usually accompanied by his own commentary. Sunghoon responded with the driest one-liners imaginable, half the time roasting them all.

Jungwon didn’t spam like the others — instead, he kept the balance. A reminder to calm down when Ni-ki and Jake’s chaos went too far, quiet words of support when someone complained too much, and every so often, a picture of Maeum, his dog, plopped in without explanation.

Even Heeseung, usually the quietest in the chat, had been chiming in more often — short, understated lines that somehow cut through the noise and got everyone laughing.

And then there had been the stretch of days where Jungwon and Ni-ki basically lived at Jay’s place, filling the chat with their antics from the sleepover. That had just ended, with both of them back at their own homes.

But through all of it, Sunoo’s name hardly appeared. A single reply here, a seen-check there, and then silence again.

It wasn’t until that same day — while Sunoo was already asleep, too exhausted from his shift to even check his phone — that someone finally brought it up.

A bunch of idiots (except Sunoo)

Jungwon:

Has anyone else noticed Sunoo hyung hasn’t said much these past few days?

Ni-ki:

Finally, someone said it. He’s been ghosting.

Jake:

Ghosting?? He’s probably just busy.

Ni-ki:

Busy 24/7? It’s the 6th already and he hasn’t even sent a meme back.

Jay:

Ni-ki’s right. It’s unusual. Even if he’s quiet, he usually checks in more than this.

Jungwon:

He did say he was covering more shifts at the restaurant. Still… it’s a pity he’s spending break like that.

Jake:

Yeah. While we’re all messing around, he’s stuck working.

Ni-ki:

That’s actually sad.

Sunghoon:

I don’t like it.

Heeseung:

I’m going to check on him. Now.

Heeseung set his phone down, already reaching for his coat by the door. His apartment was warm, but the moment he stepped into the hallway, the chill crept up his neck. By the time he stepped outside, soft flakes of snow were already falling — not heavy enough to blur the streets, but steady, like the whole city had slowed down under it.

He pulled his scarf tighter and started walking fast, the snow crunching under his sneakers. But the more he thought about Sunoo — pale face, tired smile, the way he’d been quieter even than usual — the faster his steps became. Until eventually, he was running.

The cold air burned in his lungs as he made his way toward the neighborhood he remembered. The park, especially — that small place near Sunoo’s house where they’d talked before. He slowed only when he reached the familiar streets, his breath visible in quick bursts.

Pulling out his phone, he hit Sunoo’s name.

It rang once. Twice.

“…Hello?” Sunoo’s voice was groggy, weighed down with exhaustion.

Heeseung froze, guilt pricking his chest. “Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

There was a pause, then a soft, “…Yeah. But it’s fine. What’s going on?”

Heeseung hesitated, his breath fogging in the dark. “…Come down to the park. The one we met at last time.”

“The park?” Sunoo repeated, confused. “Right now?”

“Yeah.”

There was silence on the other end.

Sunoo sat up in bed, frowning. He glanced at the fox plush by his side, then toward the window, where faint white flakes drifted past the glass.

There was no way, he thought. No way Heeseung was actually there. Not this late. Not in this cold. And for him?

Sunoo pulled the phone from his ear slowly, staring at the darkened screen as if it might explain what had just happened. Heeseung’s voice had sounded too clear, too steady, like he really was there.

But… why?

He rubbed a hand over his face, groaning softly. “There’s no way,” he muttered under his breath. “He wouldn’t actually—”

His eyes flicked toward the window again. Snow still drifted lazily outside, blanketing the ground in soft white. It was too cold, too late. No one in their right mind would be waiting in the park right now.

And yet…

He glanced back at the fox plush sitting on his pillow, its button eyes staring back at him.

He sighed, tugged on his thick puffer coat, and wound his scarf tight around his neck until half his face was hidden. His gloves were mismatched — one black, one gray — but he shoved his hands into them anyway before slipping into his shoes.

The hallway outside his one-room apartment was colder than usual, the stairwell echoing with each step as he descended. By the time he pushed the door open and stepped outside, the cold hit him sharp, biting at his ears and cheeks.

He hesitated on the sidewalk, his breath puffing out in white clouds. He could still turn back, crawl into his bed, pretend this was just some strange half-dream from exhaustion.

But his feet carried him forward.

The park was only a few minutes away, but the walk felt longer under the quiet snowfall. The streets were empty, lamplight pooling onto the snow-covered ground in warm circles.

When he finally reached the small park, his steps slowed. His heart gave a strange, unsteady beat.

And then he saw him.

Heeseung, standing near the swings, hands shoved into his coat pockets, hair dusted with flakes of snow. As if he had been waiting there all along.

Sunoo froze, his breath catching in his throat.

“…You’re really here,” he said softly, almost to himself.

Heeseung’s head turned at the sound of his voice. For a moment, the only thing between them was the muted crunch of snow underfoot and the quiet hush of winter.

“Hey,” Heeseung said finally, his voice low. He let out his signature awkward chuckle, the one that always slipped out when he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands or his words. “I came here to check up on you.”

He shifted his weight, his breath curling in the cold night air. “You haven’t been online for the past few days. I mean, I get it — you’re busy, work and all…” He trailed off, then looked at Sunoo directly, his gaze steadier than his tone.

“But, you know,” he continued, softer now, “it’s not so bad to check in once a day at least. You’ve got us worried.”

Sunoo froze where he stood, the words hitting heavier than he expected. His hand twitched before he pulled out his phone, unlocking it quickly, eyes darting to the group chat he hadn’t touched in days. The screen glared back at him, dozens of unread messages stacked like proof of his absence.

“Uh—uh-oh…” he stammered, thumb swiping uselessly across the screen. His voice came out small, panicked. “I didn’t mean to—I never really found the time to, I’m sorry.” The words tumbled out in a rush, uneven. “I really wanted to send a message or two, but it always just… slipped. I’d forget, or I’d be too tired, and then—” He cut himself off, swallowing hard, guilt burning his cheeks hotter than the cold.

Heeseung watched him quietly, the tension in his shoulders softening. A small smile tugged at his lips, his eyes warm despite the chill in the air.

“It’s okay,” he said gently. “I get it. I really do.” His gaze lingered, steady and unshaken. “But… I’m glad to see you still look better than the first time I talked with you.”

Sunoo blinked, thrown off. For a beat, he almost laughed from the sheer irony. “Better? I probably look half-dead right now.” His voice was laced with a nervous laugh, quiet but real. “If that’s better… I must’ve looked way worse back then.”

Heeseung’s chuckle joined his, soft and low, rising like warmth in the cold night.

And Sunoo, despite the exhaustion dragging at his body, felt something in his chest ease — like maybe he wasn’t carrying all of this alone.

Without saying much else, they drifted toward the swings, the chains creaking faintly as they sat down side by side.

A puff of white rose with every breath they let out, hanging briefly in the air before dissolving into the night.

Heeseung leaned back slightly, hands shoved into his coat pockets. “It’s okay, you know,” he said after a moment. “It’s only been a few days. We’ve got over a month left of this vacation.” His tone was light, but steady, like he was anchoring the weight off Sunoo’s shoulders one word at a time.

Sunoo let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “…You’re right.” The sound was small, but it wasn’t forced. For once, it felt easy to agree.

For a while, they just sat in silence, letting the cold night air wrap around them. The snow wasn’t heavy, but it dusted their coats and hair as it fell, catching faint glimmers from the streetlamp at the edge of the park.

“It’s kind of nice, though,” Heeseung said suddenly, tilting his head back to watch the flakes. “The first real snow of winter, and we’re just… here.”

Sunoo followed his gaze, blinking up at the sky. “Jake would be screaming about how romantic this is if he were here.”

That earned a laugh from Heeseung, his breath puffing white. “You’re not wrong. He’d probably take a hundred pictures too.”

“Jay would bake something just to mark the occasion,” Sunoo added, the corners of his mouth lifting.

“And Ni-ki would ruin it by shoving snow down someone’s back,” Heeseung said dryly.

“Probably Jake’s.”

They both laughed at that, the sound carrying lightly into the stillness.

After a moment, Heeseung glanced at him. “What about you?”

“…What about me?”

“If you weren’t working all the time, what would you want to do this holiday?”

The question caught Sunoo off guard. He stared down at his boots, tracing the grooves in the snow with his toe. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I never really thought about it. Everyone else seems to have plans, but… for me, vacation’s just more shifts. That’s all.”

Heeseung hummed, thoughtful. “Well, then maybe that’s something we can fix. Doesn’t have to be anything big. Just… a day. For yourself.”

Sunoo glanced sideways at him, almost suspicious. “You sound like you’ve already got ideas.”

Heeseung’s lips curved into that familiar, lopsided smile. “Maybe I do.”

The swing chains creaked as Sunoo shifted, pulling his scarf higher to cover the warmth creeping up his face. “…You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet you’re still here,” Heeseung teased lightly, nudging the tip of his boot against Sunoo’s.

For once, Sunoo didn’t have a sharp reply. He only shook his head, the corners of his mouth betraying him with a faint smile as the snow kept falling around them.

The snow kept falling, soft and steady, layering white along the empty paths. Neither of them made a move to leave. The swings rocked gently beneath their weight, their boots leaving half-moons in the frost-dusted ground.

“It’s quiet,” Sunoo murmured after a while, his voice low. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the park this empty.”

Heeseung hummed in agreement. “Guess everyone else has better sense than to be out here in the cold at midnight.”

Sunoo tilted his head, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion, a faint curve tugging at his lips. “…And yet here we are.”

“Yeah.” Heeseung’s gaze softened as it lingered on him. “Here we are.”

They fell into silence again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The snow became the background music of the night, flakes landing on coats, on hair, on scarves wound tight.

“Do you ever feel like,” Sunoo said suddenly, almost as if he hadn’t meant to speak aloud, “time moves faster when you’re not paying attention? Like… I blinked, and now the year’s already ending.”

Heeseung leaned back, hands curled loosely in his coat pockets. “…I know what you mean. Feels like just yesterday we started this term. Now it’s almost gone.”

Sunoo exhaled, watching his breath curl white in the air. “I don’t even remember half of it. Just… work, school, work again.”

Heeseung turned his head, studying him for a moment. “Then you’ll remember the other half.”

Sunoo frowned slightly, not following. “The other half?”

“Yeah.” Heeseung’s voice was steady, almost quiet. “The people. The songs. Dumb things Jake said. The way Jungwon and Ni-ki bicker. Jay’s cookies. The stuff that makes it feel like… I don’t know. More than just another term.”

The words hung between them, heavier than the snowfall.

Sunoo looked down quickly, scarf pulled up high enough to hide the warmth blooming in his cheeks. “…You sound like a teacher.”

Heeseung chuckled, soft and awkward, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, maybe. Guess I’ve been meeting up with Mr Choi too much.”

That earned a quiet laugh from Sunoo, small but real.

The minutes slipped by. The cold bit sharper into their fingers, but neither moved. Their breaths rose and faded, their shoulders occasionally brushing when the swings tilted close.

Eventually, Sunoo’s voice came again, quieter now, weighted with the edge of sleep. “I should… probably head back soon. Got another early shift tomorrow.”

Heeseung’s chest tightened at the reminder, but he nodded. “Yeah. I’ll walk you.”

Sunoo hesitated, then shook his head. “…It’s late. You’ll freeze.”

“I’ll be fine,” Heeseung said simply. “Not letting you walk back alone.”

And that was that.

They rose from the swings together, snow crunching underfoot. The walk back was slower, quieter, as if both wanted to stretch the moment a little longer. When they reached the familiar corner near Sunoo’s apartment, they stopped.

Sunoo tugged his scarf higher, eyes peeking out from above the wool. “…Thanks. For tonight.”

Heeseung smiled faintly, his breath fogging the air. “Anytime.”

Sunoo lingered for a second more, then finally turned, disappearing into the stairwell of his building.

Heeseung stood there a while longer, letting the snow settle on his coat, his hair, his lashes. Then, with a soft exhale, he turned and walked into the night.

____

The apartment was still when Heeseung stepped inside, the only sound the faint hum of the heater kicking in. He hung his coat by the door, brushing the snow from his sleeves before sinking into the couch. His legs ached faintly from running earlier, but his mind was too awake to think about rest.

The buzz of his phone cut through the quiet. A message from Jay.

Jay:

Did you really go to see Sunoo?

Heeseung:

Yeah.

Jay:

…How’d he look?

Heeseung:

Tired. More than usual. But he’s hanging in there.

Jay:

Figures. Kid runs himself into the ground. 

Jay:

I was thinking… would it be a good idea if I baked something for him? Like a care package. Cookies, maybe bread. Something easy to eat.

Heeseung:

That’s a good idea. He’d appreciate it, even if he pretends it’s nothing.

Jay:

Thought so. I’ll get started tomorrow then. Make sure he actually eats it if I send it through you.

Heeseung:

He will. I’ll make sure.

Jay:

Good.

Anw, when Sunoo finally gets a day off, we should all plan something.

It’s not just him, Hoon’s schedule is packed too

Heeseung:

Yh.

Once those two are free, we’ll go

Jay:

Ideas?

Heeseung:

Doesn’t matter where.

As long as we’re all together.

Jay:

…

you sound like an old man sometimes, you know that?

Heeseung:

Oh Stfu

Better than sounding like Jake.

Jay:

Fair.

-

The chat ended with a quiet chuckle from Heeseung, the sound echoing faintly in his empty apartment. He set the phone down beside him, leaning back into the couch. The snow outside still hadn’t let up, drifting steady against the windows, but for the first time all day, his chest felt a little lighter.

___

A bunch of idiots (except Sunoo)

Jay:

So… funny story.

I was trying to bake one chocolate cake for Sunoo. Somehow ended up with three.

Jake:

dibs

Ni-ki:

no way hyung i got it first

Jake:

wtf i literally said it first

Ni-ki:

too slow. mine.

Sunghoon:

…what about me?

Jay:

You were third. Sorry, Hoon.

Jake and Ni-ki get the extras.

Ni-ki:

HAHAHA

Jake:

cry about it

Sunghoon:

i will. thanks.

Jay:

Relax, I’ll bake you one later.

But anyway, Heeseung’s taking Sunoo his cake.

You two want to come too?

Jake:

yep. i’m in.

Ni-ki:

me too.

Jay:

Cool.

Jungwon:

Can I tag along? I feel like if I stay home any longer I might end up eating Maeum.

Jay:

Of course. That's better

Let’s go eat at Sunoo’s restaurant and drop off the cake at the same time.

Sunghoon:

of course. go without me. leave me to rot in the rink.

Jake:

lol dramatic

Ni-ki:

don’t be sad hyung we’ll send pics

Sunghoon:

don’t you dare

Jay:

Just focus on bringing home that damn trophy.

So I can brag to all my neighborhood aunties.

Sunghoon:

Got it.

___

The dinner rush had just started to swell.

Sunoo wove between tables with practiced ease, balancing a tray in one hand, pencil tucked behind his ear. His apron was already dusted with flour and broth stains

from the afternoon, but his steps were steady.

“Order up!” someone called from the kitchen, and he ducked in, collecting steaming bowls before carrying them out again.

It was exhausting, yes—but it was also familiar, and Sunoo clung to that rhythm. Busy hands meant less time to notice how heavy his body felt, how thin his meals had been lately.

He had just dropped off another order when movement by the door caught his eye. He blinked, thinking the rush was playing tricks on him.

Because there, filing into the restaurant like they owned the place, were his friends.

Jungwon and Ni-ki spotted him first.

“Sunoo hyung!!” Jungwon waved with both hands, nearly knocking into the doorframe.

“Hyuuuung!” Ni-ki joined in, his arms swinging like windmills.

“Sunoo!” Jake wasn't that different too. He was in all of his golden retriever glory, waving at Sunoo like a dog wagging his tail, seeing his owner after a long time.

The three of them looked like overexcited puppies, practically jumping to get his attention.

Jay, behind them, sighed through his nose and delivered a well-timed smack to both their backs, not forgetting to glare at Jake on his right. “You’re going to scare the customers,” he muttered, before tugging them toward the nearest open table big enough to fit all five of them.

Heeseung trailed after, laughing under his breath, and gave Sunoo the faintest wave, his eyes soft but amused.

Sunoo just stood there for a beat, tray in hand, staring like the air had been knocked from his lungs.

For a moment, Sunoo just stood there frozen, tray balanced in his hands. His mind scrambled to catch up with what he was seeing—his friends, here, in this restaurant, waving at him like maniacs.

The warmth in his chest almost drowned out the exhaustion in his limbs. Almost.

He shook himself quickly when he remembered the bowls in his hands. Right—he was still at work. Customers first.

With a practiced smile, he delivered the dishes to their table across the room, murmured a polite “enjoy your meal,” and slipped his tray back onto the counter.

Only then did he tug the pencil from behind his ear, flip open his notepad, and make his way to the corner where his friends had settled.

He stopped by their table, blinking at them, his lips tugging into something between a laugh and a sigh. “...What are you guys doing here?”

There was no hiding the way his voice lifted—surprised, but warm. Like seeing them really was a relief.

Heeseung leaned forward first, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “The others missed you, so—”

But before he could finish, Jay cut in, holding up a paper bag right under Sunoo’s nose. “I made chocolate cake for you.”

Sunoo blinked at it, startled, and then at Jay’s completely serious expression, his lips parting in quiet disbelief.

Sunoo blinked at the paper bag Jay all but shoved into his hands, caught off guard. For a beat, he just stared, lips parting like he didn’t quite know what to say.

Then a small huff escaped him—half disbelief, half laughter. “...You didn’t have to.”

Jay’s brows knit, his tone firm but not unkind. “But I wanted to. I know you… you don’t really take care of yourself. You skip meals. You'd forget about yourself sometimes.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than the joking ones they usually tossed around.

Sunoo’s chest tightened, and he ducked his head, the corners of his lips softening into the faintest smile. Carefully, he accepted the bag, fingers brushing the paper as if it were something fragile.

“...Thank you,” he murmured. “Really.”

For a second, it was just quiet — until Jake leaned forward across the table, chin propped on his hand. “Man, you’re too polite. If Jay gave me cake, I’d have inhaled it already.”

Ni-ki nodded solemnly, then immediately ruined it with, “Same. But I’d have asked for seconds first.”

Jungwon gave both of them a flat look before turning to Sunoo. “Don’t let them bully you. Just enjoy it at your own pace, hyung.”

Heeseung, who’d been watching quietly from the end of the table, finally spoke, his voice calm but sure. “They’re right about one thing, though. Don’t starve yourself. Eat properly.”

That earned him a few knowing looks from around the table, but he didn’t back down, gaze steady on Sunoo until Sunoo’s ears went warm and he dropped his eyes to the notepad still in his hand.

“…I’m working,” he muttered, retreating just enough to hide the faint curve of his lips.

The moment stretched, but Heeseung cleared his throat, easing the weight in the air. “Alright,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “We shouldn’t bother him too much. He’s still working.”

Jake was the first to grab the menu. “Fine, fine. Then I’m ordering enough to make up for the last five days we haven’t seen him.”

“You do that every time,” Ni-ki said, snatching another menu before Jake could hog it. “Kimchi jjigae for me and him.”

Jake looked like he wanted to argue that he could order for himself but made no effort to do so as he seemed to agree with what Ni-ki ordered for him.

“Spicy pork bulgogi,” Jungwon added without hesitation, already folding his menu.

“I’ll take the doenjang jjigae,” Jay said, glancing up at Sunoo. “And maybe an order of tteokbokki for the table.”

Heeseung looked over last. “Samgyetang. Extra ginseng if they have it.”

Sunoo scribbled it all down, the pencil moving fast across his notepad. “Got it,” he said, tucking the pencil back behind his ear. He looked at them for a moment longer than necessary, then lifted one hand in a small wave before turning toward the kitchen.

The table followed him with their eyes until he disappeared behind the swinging door, the faint smell of broth and sizzling meat wafting out as it shut behind him.

The warmth of the kitchen wrapped around him the second the door swung shut. The clang of pans, the sharp hiss of oil, the steady rhythm of knives on cutting boards—it was the kind of chaos Sunoo had grown used to, almost comforting in its routine.

But his hands shook faintly as he clipped the order to the line. He pressed his palms briefly against the counter, grounding himself.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed them until he saw them all sitting there—waving, smiling, acting like it was the most natural thing in the world to show up at his workplace.

It tugged at something inside him. Something he’d tried to ignore these past days, buried under exhaustion and the dull weight of routine.

He let out a quiet breath, picked up a tray, and forced his steps steady as he moved to help with another table’s dishes. Still, beneath the clatter and chatter of the kitchen, the warmth lingered, impossible to shake.

Out in the dining area, the others had settled in, menus stacked neatly to the side. Jake was already bouncing his knee under the table, impatience written all over his face.

“Think he’s mad we surprised him?” Ni-ki asked, chin propped on his palm.

“He’s not mad,” Heeseung said firmly, though his gaze lingered on the kitchen door. “Just tired.”

Jake leaned back in his chair, flipping through the menu again though he’d already decided. “You know what tomorrow is, right?”

Ni-ki blinked at him. “Tomorrow?”

“Sunghoon’s birthday,” Jungwon supplied, his voice low, like even here it was supposed to be a secret.

Jay drummed his fingers lightly against the table. “The problem is, how do you even surprise someone like Sunghoon? He’s too sharp. The guy sees everything.”

“He doesn’t have that element,” Jake agreed with a groan. “Like, he’s immune to being surprised. It’s unfair.”

Ni-ki snorted. “Maybe if we shove him onto the ice without warning, that’ll do it.”

Jungwon laughed, shaking his head. “That’s just practice for him.”

“Exactly,” Ni-ki said with a grin.

The table fell into easy laughter, the kind that carried a faint edge of mischief.

Heeseung sipped at the water the server had dropped off earlier. “We’ll think of something. Doesn’t have to be flashy—just something that makes him pause for once.”

“Yeah,” Jay agreed. “Even if it’s just dragging him out for cake and yelling at him with party poppers, it’s the thought that counts.”

Jake smirked. “Popper directly in his face.”

“Jake hyung,” Jungwon said flatly, though his lips twitched.

More laughter spilled between them, warming the air around their table.

The kitchen door swung open just then, and Sunoo emerged, balancing a tray with practiced ease. He stopped by their table, setting down steaming bowls of kimchi jjigae, bulgogi, samgyetang, tteokbokki and others one by one.

As he slid the last plate into place, Jay looked up at him. “What time are you off tonight?”

“Early,” Sunoo said, adjusting the pencil tucked behind his ear. “eight. Why?”

Ni-ki perked up. “Perfect. We’ll wait for you. There’s that internet cafe near the station—we’ll kill some time there until you’re done.”

Sunoo blinked, taken aback by the casual certainty in Ni-ki’s tone. Then, despite himself, a quiet smile tugged at his lips. “…Alright.”

“Good,” Jake said, already reaching for his chopsticks. “Now hurry back before your boss yells at you.”

Sunoo huffed a laugh under his breath, gave a small wave, and slipped back toward the kitchen.

Chapter Text

The PC bang was dim, the rows of glowing monitors throwing neon light across faces hunched over keyboards. The air was thick with the hum of fans, rapid clicking, and bursts of laughter from other groups scattered around the room.

Heeseung swiped their cards at the counter, loaded the machines, and picked a row near the back. The six of them settled in, slipping on headsets.

The lobby countdown started — parachutes deployed on the screen seconds later.

“Alright, stick together,” Heeseung said, his voice steady but sharp through the mic. “Don’t go wandering off.”

“Tell that to Jake,” Ni-ki muttered, already steering his character down toward a cluster of buildings.

“Excuse me?” Jake protested. “I’m the only one here who actually strategizes.”

Jay scoffed. “Strategize? You run straight into gunfire.”

“I call it bold gameplay,” Jake said, and promptly got shot thirty seconds after landing.

The row burst into laughter.

“You lasted less than a minute,” Ni-ki said, grinning as his kill count ticked up. “That’s a new record.”

Jungwon was already scrambling in a corner, fumbling with his controls. “Wait—how do I reload again?”

Heeseung leaned just enough to glance at his screen. “Press R. And don’t panic. Calm hands.”

“Easy for you to say, hyung,” Jungwon muttered, but he did as told, and managed to stay alive a little longer.

Meanwhile, Ni-ki and Heeseung moved like a well-oiled machine — one covering rooftops with precise shots, the other sweeping through buildings to clear out stragglers. Their comms were quick and clipped, almost professional.

“On your right,” Ni-ki warned.

“I see it,” Heeseung replied, landing the shot clean.

Jake groaned, leaning back in his chair. “It’s actually unfair watching you two. Are you sure you’re not cheating?”

“It’s called skill,” Ni-ki said, smirking.

“Yeah,” Jay added dryly. “Something you’re allergic to.”

Jake flipped him off. Jungwon laughed under his breath, still nervously clicking away as his character crouched behind a wall.

“Jungwon, push left with me,” Heeseung instructed, calm as ever. “Don’t stay stuck in one spot.”

“Hyung, if I die it’s your fault,” Jungwon muttered, but he moved anyway. To his own shock, he actually got a knockdown.

The others cheered.

“You see?” Heeseung said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Calm hands.”

Round after round went by like that — Jake swearing every time he got downed first, Jay muttering about babysitting, Jungwon clinging on longer than usual, and Ni-ki racking up kills while bragging mercilessly.

Through it all, Heeseung kept steady, tossing in sharp advice, laughing when Jake complained, occasionally leaning close to Ni-ki to call plays. He wasn’t loud, but his voice threaded through the chaos, grounding the team.

By the time the last round wrapped up, Heeseung leaned back, stretching his arms with a satisfied sigh. His phone buzzed against the desk. He glanced down, and the corner of his mouth lifted.

Sunoo:

I’m off work.

Heeseung typed back a quick reply, then shut down his game. “That’s it for me. Sunoo’s done.”

Ni-ki groaned. “We were just getting warmed up.”

“You’ll live,” Jay said, pushing his chair back.

Jake grabbed his jacket with a dramatic sigh. “No, no, don’t listen to him. He’s just mad he kept losing to me.”

Jay didn’t even look at him. “You didn’t win a single round.”

Jungwon laughed, tugging Ni-ki’s sleeve as they packed up. “Let’s just go before they start throwing hands in here.”

They logged off, dropped off their headsets, and filed out into the cold. Heeseung slipped his phone into his pocket, leading the way toward the restaurant where Sunoo would be waiting.

___

The restaurant door clicked shut behind Sunoo, and the warmth of simmering pots and sizzling pans gave way to the crisp bite of night air. He tugged at his scarf with one hand, the other brushing damp strands of hair off his forehead. He expected an empty street, maybe just the glow of street lamps reflecting off fresh snow.

But instead—five familiar figures stood near the entrance.

For a moment, Sunoo froze.

Jungwon and Ni-ki were squabbling over something, their voices carrying easily in the quiet street. Jake was bouncing slightly on his heels, his breath fogging in front of him, while Jay stood still, hands buried in his coat pockets, his expression calm as ever. And leaning against the railing with the kind of casual ease that came naturally to him, Heeseung lifted his gaze the second Sunoo stepped out.

The corners of Sunoo’s lips curved upward before he could stop himself. He gave a small bow, his voice soft. “Sorry… I clocked out later than I thought I would.”

Jay’s reply was immediate, gentle. “It’s fine.”

“Yeah, really. Don’t worry about it,” Jake chimed in, grinning. “We’ve just been killing time.”

“Hyung, you didn’t even make us wait that long,” Ni-ki added, shrugging as if it was no big deal.

Jungwon gave a small nod in agreement.

Sunoo let out a quiet breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. It had been days since he’d last seen them—since he’d had time for anything other than running between kitchens—and standing here now, hearing their voices, it felt like something in his chest eased.

They fell into step together, the crunch of snow beneath their boots filling the silence until Jake, predictably, broke it first.

“So—tomorrow’s Sunghoon’s birthday.”

Sunoo blinked, looking at him with faint surprise.

Jake nodded firmly. “We’re gonna surprise him at the rink. It’s the only place he’ll be, with his schedule.”

Heeseung glanced sideways, his voice even as he asked, “You free tomorrow, Sunoo?”

Sunoo hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod, a flicker of relief passing over his face. “Yeah. I actually just found out earlier, my boss can’t come in tomorrow. Family matter. So I’ve got the day off.”

Jake and Ni-ki reacted instantly.

“Let’s go!” Jake cheered, punching the air dramatically.

“Finally!” Ni-ki echoed, clapping his hands together.

Jungwon clapped too, smiling wide. “That’s perfect timing.”

Jay’s smile was smaller, but no less warm. He only gave Sunoo a knowing look, like he was genuinely glad to see him there.

Heeseung’s lips pressed together in a quiet nod, but the way his shoulders eased gave him away. He looked ahead quickly, as though to hide the subtle joy tugging at his mouth.

They walked on like that, laughter and easy chatter spilling into the winter air. After a few minutes, the lamps of the park came into view, their halos glowing against the snow.

“There,” Jay said, pointing to a bench under one of the lights. It was half-buried under snow, untouched since the last fall.

“Hold up,” he added, stepping forward. With quick, practiced movements, he brushed the snow off, his gloves growing damp as he cleared every patch. For a second, he glanced toward Jungwon as if silently offering the seat.

But Jungwon only shook his head lightly, already heading toward the swings with Ni-ki trailing after him. “I’ll sit over there,” he said casually.

Something unreadable flickered across Jay’s face. Then, with a swift movement, he brushed the remaining snow away and sat down himself, covering the moment with practiced nonchalance.

Heeseung sat next, then Jake slid in beside him, leaving a space open. Sunoo lingered a second longer before finally settling on the edge of the bench, scarf still tucked up around his chin.

A creak carried across the park as Jungwon and Ni-ki settled onto the swings, their chains squealing faintly with every small movement. But they weren’t far, close enough that their laughter and interjections carried clearly to the bench.

The park was quiet otherwise, hushed except for their voices and the crunch of boots over snow. The air was sharp, but it wasn’t uncomfortable — not when it was filled with warmth from all sides.

For the first time in days, Sunoo realized, he wasn’t thinking about work or exhaustion. He wasn’t counting down hours until his next shift. He was just here, with them.

And he didn’t want to rush it.

-

The bench was cold even after Jay had cleared it, but the air around them carried enough warmth to make it bearable. Their breaths puffed in little clouds that rose and disappeared into the glow of the street lamps.

For a while, no one said much. It wasn’t awkward—just the kind of silence that felt natural when you’d known each other long enough.

Jake broke it first, tipping his head back to watch the sky. “Crazy how fast the snow picked up. Yesterday was the first fall, and now look at it.”

“Better than rain, though,” Ni-ki said from the swings, dragging his heels through the snow-dusted ground. “At least snow looks nice.”

Jungwon hummed, swaying gently beside him. “Depends who you ask. My mom’s already complaining about Maeum tracking it inside.”

Jay chuckled. “She’ll live. It’s winter, what else did she expect?”

Sunoo listened quietly, his eyes following the slow flutter of flakes as they drifted under the lamplight. The way they caught in Jake’s messy hair and clung to the hem of Heeseung’s scarf made the night feel softer somehow. His chest felt strangely light, even as the cold nipped at his fingers.

Jay leaned back on the bench, arms stretched along the backrest. “Still… not a bad night. Kind of peaceful, like this.”

“Mm,” Heeseung agreed. His gaze flicked briefly toward Sunoo, softer than usual, before he looked back down at his hands.

Sunoo caught it for just a second, but quickly looked away, tucking his scarf closer to his chin as if the chill had just caught him.

Jungwon leaned back on the swing, letting it creak against the chains as he rocked lazily. “So,” he said, drawing the word out, “are we actually going to talk about tomorrow, or just sit here staring at snow?”

Ni-ki kicked at the ground, snow scattering. “Isn’t that why we came here in the first place?”

Jake laughed, brushing the flakes from his jacket. “Exactly. Sunghoon’s birthday, we can’t just wing it.”

Sunoo tilted his head slightly, listening more intently now. He didn’t say anything, but the small crease between his brows showed he was curious about how this would go.

Jay sat forward, dusting a bit of snow from his knee. “Alright then. Let’s plan this properly.”

And just like that, the conversation began to settle into what they’d all been waiting to bring up: Sunghoon.

-

“I actually already have a plan in mind,” Jay spoke up.

That was enough to make the others turn toward him. Even Jungwon, who was lazily dragging his swing across the snow, straightened with interest.

Jay cleared his throat. “We buy a cake. And some party poppers.” His voice warmed as the idea picked up pace. “Then we show up at the rink tomorrow. But—” he paused for emphasis, “to make it more of a surprise, we ignore him the whole day first.”

Jake blinked. “Ignore him?”

“Yeah.” Jay nodded firmly. “We don’t text him, don’t call him, nothing. Just act like it’s any other day. And then—bam.” He clapped his hands once, the sound sharp in the cold. “Cake, candles, party poppers right in his face.”

Jungwon frowned thoughtfully. “But Sunghoon’s barely online as it is. He’s not the type to start conversations. How are we supposed to ‘ignore’ him if he doesn’t reach out in the first place?”

“Easy,” Ni-ki cut in, leaning toward the swing’s chain like he couldn’t hold his thought back. “We’ve always wished him at midnight or early morning, right? This time… we don’t. That’s ignoring him.”

“Oh.” Jungwon tilted his head, realizing it made sense.

Jake let out a low chuckle. “That’s evil, but I kind of like it.”

Heeseung gave a small nod, his lips twitching at the corners.

Sunoo stayed quiet, eyes flicking between their faces. He didn’t really know Sunghoon well enough to predict how he’d react — whether he’d be annoyed, confused, or secretly touched. So instead of chiming in, he listened carefully, filing away every detail.

Jay wasn’t finished. “There’s more. We can get his mom to help. If she shows up at the rink, she can lure him outside. That’s when we jump him with the party poppers.” His grin widened, clearly pleased with the vision in his head.

That earned a skeptical sound from Heeseung. “And how sure are you she can even come? She’s always out of town. You can count on one hand how many times he’s seen her this year.”

For a second, the idea threatened to collapse — until Jake shook his head. “She’s coming tomorrow. I asked.”

Five sets of eyes snapped to him.

Jake lifted his hands, half defensive, half smug. “What? She likes me. She keeps in touch, asks me how he’s doing. I checked in with her a few days ago, and she told me she’s meeting him tomorrow.”

Jungwon’s face lit up instantly. “Then it’s perfect. It’ll work for sure.”

Even Heeseung, who had raised the concern in the first place, let out a quiet laugh and leaned back. “Alright. Then we’d better get moving if we want a decent cake before everything closes.”

The time on someone’s phone read just past eight-thirty.

“Right,” Jay said, pushing himself to his feet and brushing snow from his coat. “Let’s go before it hits nine.”

They all stood, breath puffing out in the frosty air. Sunoo instinctively reached for his phone, fingers stiff from the cold, and searched up nearby bakeries. Relief softened his features when he found one not too far away — and it was even known for its cakes.

The small bell above the bakery door jingled when they entered. The warmth inside hit instantly, seeping into their coats and making the chill of the night feel even sharper by contrast. Glass display cases glowed with rows of frosted cakes, each one more elaborate than the last.

Jay didn’t hesitate; he ordered a large, classic chocolate cake — the kind you couldn’t go wrong with. Then he added candles, a pack of colorful party poppers, cheap birthday hats, and finally, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, a ridiculous oversized pair of blue glasses that had 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY' spelled out across the top.

“Really?” Jungwon muttered, though he was smiling.

“He’s going to hate that,” Ni-ki said gleefully.

Sunoo bit back a laugh, though he couldn’t stop the thought that surfaced; I’m definitely laughing when he puts those on tomorrow. And again when he yells at Jay for taking a picture.

Outside again, bags in hand, the group scattered snow from their shoulders as they regrouped on the sidewalk. The night was quieter now, only the crunch of boots against snow filling the space between their chatter.

-

The streets were quieter now, snow gathered in shallow mounds along the edges of the sidewalks. Their breath puffed white into the night as they walked.

It was Sunoo who broke the silence first. “Are we… not getting Sunghoon a present?”

The others glanced at each other. Heeseung shook his head with a small smile. “Sunghoon doesn’t really like presents. Unless it’s a magazine with his face on it. Or something related to figure skating.”

Jake snorted. “He’s a narcissist, alright.”

That drew a quiet laugh from Sunoo, the sound small but genuine. He tucked his chin into his scarf, warmth curling at his chest in spite of the cold.

Jungwon spoke next, his tone matter-of-fact. “He’s the type to tell us what he wants straight out. He doesn’t like guessing games. If we bought him something random, he’d probably hand it back and tell us to return it.”

Sunoo nodded slowly, filing that detail away. He wasn’t used to people being so straightforward about their friends, but he could tell it came from a place of knowing Sunghoon deeply.

They lingered only a little longer before splitting ways at the next intersection. Jake threw an arm around Ni-ki’s shoulders, the younger swatting at him as they bickered down the street. Jungwon fell into step with Jay, listening as Jay muttered about keeping the cake steady.

“Thanks again for the cake,” Sunoo told Jay before they parted.

Jay reached out and ruffled his hair, earning a startled blink. “Don’t mention it. Just make sure you eat it before Ni-ki does.”

Sunoo’s lips curved faintly as he watched them disappear into the snowy night.

Heeseung was still at his side. “I’ll walk you home,” he said simply, like it wasn’t even a question.

Sunoo could have protested, but he didn’t. The quiet company was something he’d never admit he craved, yet secretly cherished. Especially when it was Heeseung.

When they reached his building, Sunoo gave a small bow of his head. “Goodnight.”

Later, freshly changed and curled beneath his blanket, his phone buzzed.

Heeseung:

Sunoo-ya

 We'll meet at 2pm tomorrow. That’s when his mom should be there too

Sunoo:

Ahh got it. Thank you

He placed the phone on his nightstand and lay back, staring up at the ceiling. His arms curled loosely around the fox plush at his side as the corners of his mouth tugged upward.

It was such a simple thing — celebrating a friend’s birthday. But for Sunoo, it was new. Strange. And, in its own quiet way, wonderful.

For once, he wasn’t just watching from the outside. He was part of it.

___

Jake had just dropped onto his bed when his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, surprised to see the name flashing.

Mrs Park:

Sorry for texting so late, Jake. Just wanted to let you know I’ll be heading straight to the rink tomorrow after work. I should be there around 2pm.

Jake sat up a little, thumb hovering before he typed back quickly.

Jake:

No worries, Mrs Park. Thanks for letting me know. I'll inform the others too.

He set his phone down for a second, then picked it back up, already drafting messages to the others one by one. They’d want to know the timing for tomorrow’s plan.

After firing off the updates, he lingered on the group chat for a moment before closing it again. His feed lit up with the usual jumble of soccer clips, random memes, and old photos. He scrolled absently, but his mind kept drifting back to Sunghoon — and how rarely he got to see his mom.

With a quiet sigh, Jake locked his phone and dropped it on the nightstand. Tomorrow was going to be busy.

Chapter Text

Sunghoon had always known he wasn’t someone easy to deal with.

The realization came early. He didn’t remember the exact words, only the look on his mother’s face that day in kindergarten, when his teacher asked her to stay behind after class. She had crouched down to meet his eyes before leaving with the teacher, lips pressed into a thin smile that didn’t reach her eyes. When she returned, her smile was even tighter.

“He doesn’t express himself like the other children,” the teacher had said. “It’s not a bad thing — he’s just different.”

Different. That word stayed with him, like a sticker you can never quite peel off.

His father hadn’t been there for that meeting. His father was hardly ever anywhere. And then, one day, his father simply stopped showing up. Now, when people would ask what his dad was like, Sunghoon struggled to remember. He couldn't even remember what his dad looked like. He could picture broad shoulders, a faint scent of aftershave, the sound of keys rattling — but not the face.

It was like trying to recall a dream that faded the second you woke up. Because frankly, there was nothing to remember at all. Only later, when he was older, did he understand his parents had separated. 

His mother stayed. Park Seri. Even before the separation, she worked long hours, always chasing the next project, the next deadline. Some nights she came home with shadows under her eyes but still sat at the edge of his bed, reading in a hoarse voice until he fell asleep.

After the divorce, even those nights became rare. He saw her more in passing than anything else — a glimpse of her back as she left in the morning, the sound of the front door unlocking long after he’d gone to bed.

Sunghoon never asked for more. He knew she was working for him, for his future. To complain would have been selfish, useless. So he stayed quiet.

___

Sunghoon was seven years old when he first stepped onto the ice.

He hadn’t even wanted to, not really. His friends had begged him to tag along, promising it would be fun, that it wasn’t scary, that he wouldn’t fall as much as he thought. He didn’t believe them, but he went anyway, more out of habit than desire.

But the second his blades touched the rink, something shifted.

The air felt different, sharper, cleaner. The cold bit at his cheeks, but it wasn’t unpleasant. His feet wobbled, arms flailing once, but when he managed even one glide—just a single clean stretch forward—it was like the ground had disappeared beneath him.

He remembered gripping the railing, panting softly, staring down at the way the ice shimmered beneath the lights. And for the first time in his life, Sunghoon felt like he had found something that belonged to him. Something that made sense.

From then on, he kept returning. It didn’t matter if no one came with him. He would beg his mom for loose change to rent skates, and if she couldn’t give him any, he would stand outside the rink just to watch. Watching was enough. For a while.

Then came the day his mother finally had a rare break from work. She had asked him where he wanted to go. Normally, Sunghoon didn’t answer those kinds of questions. He never had an answer; he never had a 'want.' But that day, without hesitation, he said, “The rink.”

His mother had smiled tiredly, surprised but indulgent, and took him. And she had seen it too—the light in his eyes as he moved across the ice. He wasn’t graceful yet, not polished, but there was something there. A spark.

A week later, she signed him up for lessons.

The coaches noticed quickly. The way his body adjusted naturally, the way he picked up movements others stumbled over, the quiet determination in his eyes. They called him talented. They called him special.

And Sunghoon—young as he was—believed them.

He trained. He competed. He won.

But the more he won, the more he noticed the looks. Other skaters whispering behind his back. Teammates sneering when he didn’t join in their chatter. They called him arrogant, cold, unapproachable. And true to himself, Sunghoon never argued. He let them think what they wanted, because what use was correcting them? It wouldn’t change anything.

By twelve, he was already called the ‘Ice Prince.’ His coach had clapped him on the shoulder after a gold medal win, saying it was a compliment, that it meant he ruled the rink, that he had the ice beneath his command.

But Sunghoon, standing there with the medal biting against his neck, had wondered if that was really what they meant. Or if it was just another way of saying he was distant, untouchable, frozen.

____

As the years passed, the name stuck. Ice Prince.

Reporters wrote it in their headlines. Announcers used it with a flourish when calling his name. Parents in the stands whispered it to their kids, telling them to “watch closely, that boy is a prodigy.”

And Sunghoon—he wore it like armor. If people wanted him to be cold, then cold he would be. It was easier than correcting them. Easier than trying to explain that he wasn’t heartless, just… quiet. That he wasn’t aloof, just unsure how to reach out.

So he trained harder. He learned to keep his face composed, expression controlled, movements perfect. His world narrowed to blades and ice, medals and schedules, the constant pressure of being special.

School became something he drifted in and out of. Weeks would pass with him absent, traveling for competitions. When he did return, classmates looked at him like he didn’t quite belong. Admiration in their eyes, yes, but also distance. As if he was something to be looked at, not someone to sit beside.

____

As he grew, silence became easier. By thirteen, he had started middle school, and though competitions often pulled him away, his grades never slipped. He remained in the top three, usually second to another boy in his class — Lee Heeseung.

That was when people began to notice him more. Girls lingered around his desk, boys asked him about sports. But his reserved nature, his habit of speaking only when necessary, drove them away. Soon, people admired from a distance instead. His face, his skills, his medals — all of it built a wall around him. Perfect, they called him. Handsome. Talented. Brilliant. The labels weighed him down, but he bore them quietly.

It wasn’t until one afternoon, when he was sitting at his desk after practice, that someone cut through the silence.

It had been a simple thing: Heeseung, the class president, collecting math workbooks. He had walked up to Sunghoon’s desk, waiting for the book. Sunghoon handed it over without a word, expecting him to leave.

But Heeseung didn’t. He lingered, smiling that easy, unbothered smile. “Park Sunghoon, right? I never had the chance to talk to you.”

Sunghoon blinked, momentarily thrown. Then, he gave a small nod.

“You do know my name, don’t you?” Heeseung asked, half-teasing.

Truthfully, Sunghoon didn’t. But he glanced down at the neat nametag on Heeseung’s chest and nodded again. “Yeah. You’re Lee Heeseung.”

Heeseung chuckled, like he knew exactly what Sunghoon had just done, but didn’t call him out. “Talk to you later, then.” And just like that, he left.

It should’ve ended there. A forgettable interaction.

But later that same day, another boy showed up at his desk during lunch. Loud where Sunghoon was quiet, bright where he was muted.

“Hey, I’m Jake!” he introduced, accent softening the words.

Again, Sunghoon only nodded.

“Wanna eat together?” Jake asked, and before Sunghoon could answer, his tray was being pulled across the table. Heeseung was there too, sliding into the seat opposite.

For the first time in a long while, conversation surrounded him without demanding anything from him. He didn’t have to fill the silence; Jake and Heeseung did it effortlessly. All Sunghoon had to do was listen. And strangely, it felt… okay.

That was how it began.

___

It started small. One shared lunch became two, then three, until Sunghoon found himself sitting with them more often than not. At first, he told himself it was only because they insisted—Jake with his endless invitations, Heeseung with his calm persistence.

But the truth was, he didn’t mind.

Jake had a way of making silence feel full rather than empty. He would chatter about soccer practice, about Australia, about how confusing Korean grammar could be, never once pressing Sunghoon for more than a nod or a quiet hum in return.

And Heeseung… Heeseung was steady. He didn’t fill every silence, but he didn’t leave Sunghoon stranded in it either. He spoke when it mattered, asked questions without demanding answers, laughed easily even when Sunghoon gave little more than a shrug in response.

For someone who had spent years keeping to himself, who was used to being looked at but not seen, it was disarming.

He remembered one afternoon, when Jake had nearly spilled soup across the table in his excitement about some soccer match. Sunghoon had startled, eyes wide, and then—before he realized it—he laughed. Really laughed. A small sound, barely more than a breath, but genuine.

Both Jake and Heeseung had turned to look at him, surprised, then grinning like they’d just won something.

Sunghoon had ducked his head, embarrassed. But deep down, it didn’t feel bad.

____

At fifteen, Jay entered the picture. Park Jongseong, though he introduced himself simply as Jay.

He was different from Jake and Heeseung—quieter, but not in the same way as Sunghoon. Where Sunghoon’s silence was heavy, Jay’s was composed, thoughtful. He carried himself with a kind of quiet confidence, speaking up when something felt wrong, but never just for the sake of it.

Sunghoon remembered the first time Jay offered him food— neatly packed lunchboxes, homemade.

“Leftovers,” Jay had said casually, sliding the box across the desk.

Sunghoon hadn’t believed him for a second. Jay never brought his own lunch. He ate cafeteria food every day. But Sunghoon didn’t say anything. He just accepted the box, mumbled a stiff “thanks,” and later, when no one was looking, finished every bite.

The next day, there was another box. And the day after that.

When Sunghoon finally asked why, Jay had only shrugged. “Just felt like it.”

It was the same kind of quiet persistence that Heeseung had. The same warmth Jake carried, just in a different form. Bit by bit, the circle around Sunghoon grew tighter.

For the first time in his life, he didn’t feel like an outsider looking in.

___

By the time several months had passed, Jay’s ‘leftover lunches’ had become almost routine. Sunghoon never called him out on the obvious lie, but he never forgot it either—the way Jay gave without needing credit, without asking for anything in return.

And a year later, when Sunoo joined their circle, Sunghoon found himself watching history repeat. Jay had handed Sunoo a box with that same offhanded excuse—“just leftovers.”

The way Sunoo blinked, confused but touched, was all too familiar. And for the first time in a while, Sunghoon laughed—soft, genuine, caught off guard by how predictable Jay could be. The others had joined in too, teasing Jay for recycling the same line.

For Sunghoon, though, it was more than funny. It was grounding. Proof that some things—some people—were constants.

Jungwon and Ni-ki came later, but they didn’t take long to carve out their places in his life.

Jungwon, younger by age, didn’t act like it most of the time. To teachers and other students, he was composed, reliable, the kind of boy adults trusted instinctively. He carried himself like someone older, someone already ready for leadership. But when the adults weren’t around? That composure cracked in an instant. 

Around them, Jungwon was as unhinged as they came. He bickered with Ni-ki like it was his full-time job, made jokes at the worst possible times, and sometimes even set the chaos in motion himself. The shift never felt fake—it was just him knowing when to shoulder responsibility and when to let it go. And Sunghoon respected that, maybe even envied it.

Ni-ki, on the other hand, was all chaos, all the time. Two years younger, fresh from Japan, with his uniform half-untucked and his shoelaces never tied properly, he looked like he didn’t care about a single rule.

But then he’d hand back test papers with perfect scores, sitting comfortably at second in their grade, just behind Jungwon. It didn’t make sense, not really, but that was Ni-ki—effortless in the places Sunghoon had to grind for, unafraid to tease, unafraid to push buttons. Sometimes bratty, often reckless, but never dull.

Together, Jungwon and Ni-ki were noise and laughter, the kind Sunghoon never thought he’d let himself enjoy. They pulled the group into motion, dragged out reactions from him he didn’t think he had anymore. And little by little, against his own expectations, Sunghoon found himself softening in their orbit.

___

And then there was Kim Sunoo.

Sunghoon hadn’t expected him. One day, Heeseung had simply pulled another kid into their circle, another voice into their chat, another name into their routine. 

Sunghoon had been… wary, at first. Sunoo was quiet, hesitant, like he carried the same fear of speaking up that Sunghoon had once known all too well. And maybe that was exactly why Sunghoon’s guard shot up. Seeing Sunoo was like looking at his younger self in a mirror he didn’t want to face.

At first, Sunghoon kept his distance. He thought Sunoo would fade out quickly—someone too fragile to keep up with their noise, someone who’d slip back into the shadows the second it got overwhelming. But Sunoo didn’t. He stayed. He sat with them at lunch, walked with them after school, listened to their banter without flinching. He never fought for the spotlight, but he never ran from it either.

Little by little, Sunghoon started noticing the details. The way Sunoo’s sarcasm cut through when the timing was just right. The way his laughter, quiet as it was, still softened the whole table. The way he carried himself like he was trying not to take up space—yet somehow made the space around him warmer just by being there.

And beneath it all, there was the work. The endless hours at his part-time jobs, the exhaustion he never voiced, the way he still showed up every day like it didn’t cost him anything. Sunghoon recognized that weight. He respected it. And he hated, in a way, how much he pitied Sunoo for it—because it meant pitying his own younger self too.

But that pity shifted into something else. Admiration, maybe. Respect, definitely. Sunoo wasn’t loud, wasn’t flashy, but he was steady. He surprised Sunghoon by being someone who grounded the group rather than drowned in it. Instead of being another layer of noise, he became the calm between it.

And Sunghoon respected that. More than he ever said out loud.

Because, really, that was what all of them had given him in their own ways. Heeseung had been the first to break through, steady and patient, never demanding more than Sunghoon could give, but always leaving space for him to give it. 

Jake had pulled him into laughter, reminding him he was allowed to be more than serious, more than perfect.

Jay had this quiet kind of care, the type that noticed things without being asked, the type that left food in Sunghoon’s hands with an excuse no one believed but everyone accepted. 

Jungwon had a way of grounding conversations with the maturity of someone older, only to spin around and lose his composure the second no teacher was in sight.

Ni-ki, loud and bratty as he was, still knew when to lean in with a sharp observation, when to pull Sunghoon out of his head and into the moment.

And now there was Sunoo—unexpected, unfamiliar, but quietly, steadily, proving that he belonged among them too.

Together, they weren’t just his friends. They were the first people who made him feel like he could be more than the labels thrown at him. More than the Ice Prince. More than the prodigy, the perfect face, the national athlete. 

With them, he wasn’t a symbol or a headline. He wasn’t expectations piled into human form.

With them, he was just Park Sunghoon.

And for someone who had spent so much of his life learning to keep quiet, learning not to burden, learning to carry everything alone—that meant more than he could ever say.

____

Sunghoon’s break had only just started when his phone buzzed in his hand. He slipped it from his pocket, seeing his mother’s name on the screen.

“Mom?” His voice came out soft, wary.

“Sunghoon,” she said, her tone lighter than he remembered. “Are you busy right now?”

He glanced at the clock on the wall. Thirty minutes until he had to be back on the ice. “...On break,” he replied.

There was a pause, then the faintest smile in her voice. “Turn around.”

His breath caught. Slowly, almost afraid, he turned.

And there she was. Park Seri, standing in the middle of the rink lobby, scarf wrapped around her neck, eyes tired but bright. For a second, Sunghoon couldn’t move. His hand fell limp to his side, the phone still clutched loosely.

“You’re… here,” he whispered.

Her smile wobbled, and then she crossed the space quickly, pulling him into her arms.

Sunghoon’s breath came shallow in his chest, his mother’s arms warm and solid around him in a way he hadn’t felt in so long.

“Happy birthday, my dear Sunghoon,” she murmured against his hair. “I’m so proud of you.”

He froze, words lodged in his throat, before they slipped out in a rough whisper. “...I thought you wouldn’t be able to come.”

His mother leaned back just enough to see his face, her tired smile trembling at the edges. “How could I not come visit my son on his birthday?” she said softly. “I know I’m not always around… but this is your important day. I would never miss it in this life, or any other life.”

Something inside him cracked. Tears welled before he even realized it, spilling hot down his chilled cheeks. His mother’s eyes widened gently, and she raised her hand, wiping them away with her thumb.

“Why are you crying, hm?” she teased, her voice breaking just slightly. “This is your happy day, don’t cry.”

Sunghoon let out a shaky breath, embarrassed, but unable to stop the way more tears slid free. He nodded once, pressing his lips together tightly as if that could hold himself together.

His mother only cupped his face with both hands for a moment, kissing his temple, then drew back with a small laugh. “Now, come on. Help me get a few things from the car.”

And so, still quiet, still raw, Sunghoon followed her toward the exit.

Sunghoon trailed after his mother, his phone still limp in his hand. His chest felt too full, like all the words he’d never said had suddenly risen at once and clogged his throat.

The fluorescent lights of the rink buzzed above them, catching on the wetness still clinging to his lashes. He blinked hard, as if that could erase it. He wasn’t supposed to cry. Not here, not in front of his mom, not when she’d finally made it. But for a second, walking just a step behind her, he let himself breathe it in—the warmth of her presence, the reminder that she hadn’t forgotten him after all.

He didn’t notice the corners of his mouth twitching upward, so small it was almost nothing. But for him, it was everything.

Then the glass doors of the rink slid open, and the cold rushed in. Sunghoon squinted at the sudden brightness of snow outside, his mother stepping forward first.

And the moment his feet touched the edge of the pavement—

POP!

Confetti burst in his face, scattering bright colors across the snow. Sunghoon flinched, eyes wide, his hand tightening around his phone.

“Happy birthday, Sunghoon-hyung!” Ni-ki’s voice rang out, gleeful as he blew into a party horn, the shrill sound breaking through the quiet street. Jungwon joined in, clapping hard with one hand while blowing another party horn, his grin stretching ear to ear.

Jake was bouncing on the balls of his feet, practically vibrating with excitement. “Sixteen! You’re officially sixteen now!” He cheered like it was his own birthday, pumping his fists into the air.

Before Sunghoon could recover, Jay was already on him, sliding the ridiculous oversized glasses onto his face—blue plastic frames with HAPPY BIRTHDAY spelled across the top. “There. Perfect,” Jay said, lips twitching as he stepped back to admire his handiwork.

“Take it off,” Sunghoon muttered immediately, his voice flat but too late—because Sunoo was already stifling a laugh beside Heeseung, biting down on his lip to keep it in.

Heeseung, calm as ever, was standing a little to the side, holding up a cake box with both hands. The candles were already stuck in, their flames flickering softly against the winter air. His expression was warm, steady, eyes never leaving Sunghoon’s face.

For once, the so-called Ice Prince looked nothing like his nickname. The confetti clung to his hair, the silly glasses slid slightly crooked on his nose, and irritation lingered on his lips—but beneath it, something else shone through. His ears had gone pink. His chest was rising and falling faster than usual.

His mom chuckled softly behind him, and for a heartbeat, Sunghoon just stood there, caught between disbelief and something dangerously close to happiness.

“Make a wish, Hoon!” Jake shouted, clapping his hands together like a kid at a carnival.

“Don’t tell us what it is though,” Ni-ki added, blowing another horn so close to Sunghoon’s ear that he flinched. “Or it won’t come true.”

“Ni-ki,” Jungwon sighed, tugging the horn away before Sunghoon could snatch it from him. “Give him space.”

Jay adjusted the ridiculous glasses once more, ignoring the sharp glare he got in return. “Come on, just one smile. For the picture.”

“There isn’t going to be a picture,” Sunghoon muttered, but his mother was already laughing softly, pulling her phone from her coat pocket. “Actually, there is.”

Sunoo couldn’t help it this time—he let out a short laugh, quickly covering his mouth with his hand. Heeseung, beside him, tilted his head ever so slightly, still holding the cake steady, candlelight casting a warm glow on his face.

Sunghoon looked at the small flames, at the faces surrounding him—his mother’s soft smile, Jake’s excitement, Ni-ki and Jungwon’s mischief, Jay’s fond exasperation, Heeseung’s quiet patience, and even Sunoo’s stifled laughter—and for a long moment, he didn’t move.

Then, finally, he leaned forward and blew out the candles. The cheers that followed were loud enough to draw stares from passersby, but none of them cared.

His mom squeezed his shoulder gently. “Happy birthday, my dear Sunghoon,” she said again, softer this time. “You deserve this.”

And for the first time all day, Sunghoon smiled—not the polite, practiced curve of his lips for coaches or cameras, but something small, unguarded, real.

The voices around him blurred into a kind of harmony—Jake’s laughter too loud, Ni-ki blowing his horn again just to annoy him, Jungwon trying and failing to keep the peace, Jay snapping at them with mock sternness, Sunoo’s muffled laugh slipping out at the worst possible time. His mom’s hand still rested on his shoulder, steady and grounding, while Heeseung carefully set the cake down and joined in the chatter with his low, easy voice.

For so long, Sunghoon had lived by medals, by scores, by the weight of expectations pressing against his back. But here, in this moment, none of that mattered. Not the rink, not the reputation, not the prodigy label.

Here, he wasn’t the Ice Prince. He wasn’t the cold, untouchable skater everyone whispered about. He was just Park Sunghoon—someone’s son, someone’s friend.

And as laughter rang around him, warm against the winter air, he realized he wouldn’t wish for anything else. Not another medal, not another title. Nothing but this—being here, surrounded by people who made him feel human, who made him feel enough.

Chapter Text

Sunoo woke up with a weightless kind of warmth sitting in his chest.

It wasn’t his birthday yesterday, but the feeling lingered as if it had been.

The laughter, the surprise, the way everyone’s voices had overlapped—he had never been part of something like that before. Not really. Planning together, keeping secrets together, waiting in the cold just to shout Happy birthday at someone.

It was the first time he had felt like he belonged in a moment that was bigger than himself.

He rubbed his eyes, rolling onto his side to reach for his phone on the nightstand. The screen glowed too bright against the dim morning, and the first thing that greeted him was the group chat.

He blinked. Scrolled.

The chat was flooded.

Jay had uploaded the clearest picture of Sunghoon in the oversized blue “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” glasses, his expression halfway between surprise and irritation.

Jake had responded with a string of crying-laughing emojis.

Ni-ki had circled Sunghoon’s frown with digital doodles and written: “This is the face of a 16-year-old prodigy.”

Jungwon added a meme underneath—something about “ice prince dethroned.”

Heeseung hadn’t typed anything, but he’d quietly added a heart under every picture.

And in the middle of all that chaos, Sunoo felt a small laugh escape him before he could stop it.

___

Sunoo and the 6 dwarfs

Jake:

I am actually offended with the group's name

Ni-ki:

that's just because you don't want to admit you're short lol

Jake:

I'm still growing!

Jay:

At least that means I'm not an idiot anymore. I'd gladly be Sunoo's dwarf

Jungwon:

i have no shame in being one too!

Sunghoon:

Coach gave me 2 days off. Said it’s a bday gift.

Jake:

Finally T.T

Ni-ki:

Perfect.

Sunoo:

I just got a notice too. My boss won’t be back for a bit bc of a family emergency, so I’ve got 2 days off with paid leave.

Jake:

WAIT. Both of u are free??

Jungwon:

That’s rare.

Jake:

What if we do a sleepover 👀

Ni-ki:

At ur place??

Jake:

Lol hell no

Heeseung:

Come to mine. There’s space.

Jay:

Sounds good. I’ll bring ingredients and cook.

Jake:

Bro make spicy pork belly plssss 🙏

Jungwon:

I’ll help cook.

Ni-ki:

I’ll help too. By watching.

Heeseung:

That’s not helping.

Ni-ki:

It’s moral support.

Heeseung:

...

Jake:

Then it’s settled.

Jay:

When do we do it?

Jungwon:

Today?

Heeseung:

Yeah, let’s not wait.

Jake:

Meet at Heeseung’s around 4.

Ni-ki:

Dibs on the games‼️

Jake:

Dibs on the PS5‼️‼️

Sunghoon:

You’re both idiots. Multiple ppl can play at once.

Jay:

save your energy for later. Pls 🙏🏻

---

Sunoo set the phone down, still smiling faintly.

A sleepover. Today.

For once, he was actually looking forward to the day ahead.

___

Jay sat at the kitchen table of his apartment, laptop open, phone buzzing beside him.

Mom:

Money transferred. Use it for groceries, not takeout.

Jay:

Yes mom 👍🏻

He smiled faintly, resting his chin on his hand. His mom always texted like that — half stern, half soft — even from the other side of the world. She worried, but she also knew he preferred life here. School here. His friends here.

He set the phone down and pulled out a notepad where he’d scribbled meal ideas for tonight and tomorrow. Pork belly, obviously. A stew, maybe. Something warm and heavy for the cold weather. He tapped his pen against the page, frowning. Six boys. How much rice would that take?

He stood and stretched, glancing around his quiet apartment. It was always quiet, except when Jungwon came over. Or when Ni-ki barged in. But mostly, it was him. Alone. That was why he never minded cooking for the others. The noise filled the place in ways silence couldn’t.

Jay closed the notebook and tucked it into his backpack, which he had already half-filled with clothes. Some clothes, a towel, a couple of books he’d probably never read tonight. He zipped it shut, slung it over one shoulder, and grabbed his wallet from the counter.

Bag on his back, list in hand, he locked the door behind him. Time to shop.

At the same time, Jungwon was having his own small battle with packing. Pajamas, charger, toiletries—all set. But his eyes lingered on the hoodie slung over his chair. Too big for him, sleeves a little too long. It wasn’t his.

He’d taken it home after the last time he’d stayed over at Jay’s. Jay hadn’t asked for it back, hadn’t even mentioned it. Just given him this small, almost fond smile when Jungwon had been caught wearing it, as if he thought it suited him somehow.

Still, Jungwon hesitated, fingers brushing the fabric. Maybe he should leave it. Maybe it was weird. But then again… it was warm, and comfortable, and he liked it. If Jay said anything, he’d shrug it off. If Jay didn’t—well, maybe it was his now.

With a small, sheepish grin, Jungwon stuffed the hoodie into his bag, zipped it shut, and slung it over his shoulder.

Later that day, both boys would leave their apartments—Jay with his grocery bags in hand, Jungwon with a hoodie that wasn’t really his—and head toward the same destination, the same group, the same warmth waiting for them at Heeseung’s.

___

Meanwhile, Jake was sprawled out on his bed, scrolling through his phone with one hand while halfheartedly tossing clothes into his backpack with the other. He’d already called dibs on Heeseung’s PS5 and planned on defending that right with his life. A packet of snacks peeked out of his bag, the result of his mom insisting he “bring something to share.” He didn’t argue—extra food was never a bad idea.

Ni-ki, on the other hand, was the last to even start packing. His console controller was already in his bag, but pajamas and spare clothes? Not yet. He claimed it was “part of his system”—pack late, so you don’t overthink. Really, he was too busy scrolling through game updates, already planning what they’d play tonight.

Sunghoon packed with precision, folding each piece of clothing neatly before sliding it into place. His skates were set carefully to the side, not coming with him tonight—he wanted a break from the rink. It felt strange, but good, to know his coach had given him two days off. He zipped his bag with a rare flicker of anticipation, imagining what nonsense the others had in store.

As for Sunoo, he sat on his bed with his bag neatly packed beside him. Both his workplaces had given him a few days off—his boss at the noodle shop restaurant leaving town for a vacation, and his boss at the family restaurant had a family emergency. It felt almost like a blessing in disguise, a rare stroke of luck telling him to rest. What were the chances both places gave him a break at the same time? He didn’t know, but he wasn’t about to question it.

His gaze drifted to the fox plush on his bed. For a moment, he just stared, debating. It felt childish, maybe even embarrassing, to bring it along. But the thought of leaving it behind tugged at him in a way he couldn’t ignore. With a small sigh, he shoved it carefully into his backpack, zipping it up before he could second-guess himself.

And Heeseung, who had been the first to offer his place for the sleepover, looked around his apartment one last time. He didn’t live far from the others, but his place was bigger than most, and he’d made sure it was clean enough for company. He straightened the couch cushions, checked the snacks and drinks in the fridge, and finally set his guitar back in its stand. When his phone buzzed with another message from the group chat, he couldn’t help but smile. Tonight, the quiet of his apartment would be replaced with the noise of his friends.

___

Sunghoon had been the one to arrive first, standing in front of Heeseung’s doorstep exactly at 4, punctual as always. Heeseung opened the door with an easy smile, stepping aside to let him in.

“You’re early,” Heeseung teased lightly.

“You said four. It’s four,” Sunghoon replied, slipping off his shoes.

Heeseung chuckled, already heading toward the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“Always.”

Minutes later, they sat across from each other at the small dining table, mugs in hand. Conversation came naturally, like it always did between them. They’d known each other the longest—along with Jake—so there was a comfort here that needed no effort. They talked about Sunghoon's practice, about how exhausting the week had been for him, and then about nothing at all, just filling the quiet with words that didn’t need meaning.

The door opened again. Ni-ki wandered in without ceremony, tossed his bag near the couch, and promptly collapsed onto it. He didn’t even look at them before shoving his phone in front of his face, already absorbed in a game.

Heeseung and Sunghoon exchanged a look, shaking their heads at the younger boy’s antics.

A moment later, laughter echoed from the hallway as Jungwon and Jay entered together, plastic bags digging into their fingers.

“Met him halfway,” Jungwon explained, lifting the plastic bags as proof.

“Thank God I did,” Jay added with a grin. “My hands were about to give up.”

The others laughed at his dramatics, but none of them noticed the way Jay’s gaze lingered on Jungwon a beat too long. His expression softened in a way he didn’t show often, quiet but undeniable—he wasn’t just glad he’d run into someone. He was glad it was Jungwon.

Not long after, the door flew open again, and Jake bounded in with the same energy he carried everywhere. “Alright!” he announced, nearly tripping over the entry mat in his excitement. “I’ve got the perfect plan for tonight. You guys aren’t ready.”

“Here we go,” Sunghoon muttered, earning a snort from Ni-ki, who still hadn’t lifted his eyes from his screen.

Finally, the last knock came. Heeseung was already moving before anyone else, crossing the room in quick strides. He didn’t know why he’d reacted so fast—he just did.

And when he opened the door, there was Sunoo, slightly breathless, clutching the strap of his backpack.

“Sorry I’m late,” Sunoo said immediately, a faint crease in his brows.

“You’re fine,” Heeseung reassured, reaching to take the bag from his hands. “Come on in.”

The simple gesture—Heeseung carrying his bag, ushering him in so naturally—made Sunoo’s chest tighten. His heart fluttered in a way he couldn’t explain. He thought to himself, I just saw him yesterday. But standing here, he realized how much he had missed seeing Heeseung’s face again.

The thought startled him enough to make him shake his head subtly, brushing it away as he stepped inside.

___

By the time Heeseung’s apartment had settled into the familiar buzz of company, Jay and Jungwon were side by side at the counter, plastic bags crinkling as they unpacked. Sunghoon sat on a stool at the counter, long fingers wrapped loosely around his coffee mug, watching them with the air of someone perched above chaos.

“Careful with those,” Jay said, nodding at the carton of eggs Jungwon was holding.

“I’m not Ni-ki,” Jungwon deadpanned, setting them down with practiced precision. “You don’t have to hover.”

Jay clicked his tongue, digging out a pack of mushrooms. “I’m not hovering. I’m supervising.”

Sunghoon raised his mug, smirk tugging faintly at his lips. “That’s just a fancy way of saying you’re bossy.”

Jay shot him a glare, but Jungwon’s quiet laugh betrayed him—soft, light, the kind of laugh Jay always caught himself replaying later without meaning to.

“Anyway,” Jay muttered, turning back to the bags. “Good thing I ran into Jungwon halfway here. Thought my arms were about to snap.”

Sunghoon’s brows arched slightly. “You carried all this alone?”

Jay shrugged, though the corners of his mouth curved. “I was managing.”

“Barely,” Jungwon murmured, slipping canned corn onto the shelf.

Jay coughed, glaring sideways, but Jungwon didn’t look back. His ears had gone faintly pink, and Sunghoon caught it. He sipped his coffee again, smirk deepening. He didn’t bother pointing it out; the truth was obvious enough.

___

On the couch, Jake and Ni-ki were locked in their usual tug-of-war. Jake had attempted to sit, but Ni-ki’s long legs were sprawled across the cushions like he owned them.

“Move over,” Jake whined, shoving at Ni-ki’s shin. “There’s space—”

“There’s another couch right there,” Ni-ki interrupted, eyes still glued to his phone.

Jake made a strangled noise. “Why would I sit alone when my best friend is right here?”

“Bold of you to assume you’re my best friend,” Ni-ki replied coolly, stretching out even further.

Jake gaped. “Excuse me? After all I’ve done for you? I—hey!” He tried again, only for Ni-ki to snap a quick photo of his distressed face.

Ni-ki smirked down at his screen. “This is going in the archives.”

Jake lunged for the phone, nearly toppling both of them. The two wrestled half-seriously, their laughter and complaints echoing through the apartment.

From the kitchen, Sunghoon muttered into his coffee, “Children.”

___

Meanwhile, in the quieter corner of the apartment, Heeseung had carried Sunoo’s bag into the guest room. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, as Sunoo crouched to unzip it.

“You don’t have to unpack everything,” Heeseung said, voice light. “Just take out what you need.”

“I know.” Sunoo’s voice was softer than usual, but not unfriendly. He pulled out some clothes, neatly folding them onto the bed.

The two spoke idly—about the snow piling outside, about how warm the room felt compared to the hallway. Heeseung kept his replies simple, steady, content just to listen.

Then Sunoo froze. His hand emerged from the bag holding a small fox plush.

The air shifted. Heeseung’s words died mid-sentence. His gaze fixed on the plush, and the silence stretched enough for Sunoo to glance up, puzzled. “…What?”

Heeseung’s voice came low, almost hesitant. “Is that… the fox I got you back then?”

Sunoo hesitated, then nodded once, shyly.

“You brought it.” Heeseung’s tone wasn’t teasing—it was soft, almost disbelieving.

Sunoo’s ears flushed red. He turned quickly back to his bag, fumbling with the zipper. “It’s nothing. I just… find myself not being able to sleep without it. It’s comfortable, that’s all.”

A quiet chuckle escaped Heeseung. “Is that so?”

The warmth in his voice only made Sunoo’s face burn hotter. He shoved the plush back into the bag in a rush, muttering, “I’m going to the front,” before slipping out of the room.

Heeseung stayed leaning against the wall, lips tugging into a small, unshakable smile. His eyes lingered on the bag for another second before he finally pushed off the wall to follow.

By the time Sunoo slipped out of the guest room, cheeks still faintly pink, the apartment was alive with noise. Jake’s laughter carried loudest, tangled with Ni-ki’s dry retorts. From the kitchen, the low murmur of Jay and Jungwon’s conversation blended with the soft clink of groceries being shelved, while Sunghoon’s occasional one-liners floated over like lazy arrows.

Sunoo padded into the living room, the familiar warmth of the group hitting him all at once. Jake was half-sprawled over Ni-ki now, whining dramatically about “friendship betrayal,” while Ni-ki fended him off with one hand and scrolled on his phone with the other.

“You could just sit on the other couch, you know,” Sunoo said lightly, unable to stop himself.

Jake snapped his head toward him, eyes wide like he’d been caught committing a crime. “Et tu, Sunoo?” he gasped. “Not you too—”

Ni-ki smirked triumphantly, holding his phone higher. “Even Sunoo’s against you, hyung.”

Jake groaned, collapsing fully onto Ni-ki’s legs in defeat. “This is bullying.”

Sunoo laughed softly, the sound slipping out before he realized. And for once, it didn’t feel out of place.

From the kitchen, Jay called out, “Don’t break the couch before we even start the night.”

“Yeah,” Jungwon added, carrying a tray of snacks toward the coffee table. “We’re gonna need it.”

He passed by Sunoo on the way, brushing shoulders with him briefly before setting the tray down. Jay followed a moment later with bottles of soda, Sunghoon trailing behind him with his coffee mug still in hand.

And finally, Heeseung emerged from the hallway, his steady presence tying the whole picture together. His gaze flickered briefly toward Sunoo, just enough to make Sunoo’s chest flutter before he quickly looked away.

Now all six of them were gathered in the same space. The noise overlapped—Jake’s renewed whining, Ni-ki’s dry commentary, Jungwon’s laughter, Jay’s reminders, Sunghoon’s quiet but sharp interjections. Sunoo sat at the edge of the couch, watching it all unfold, warmth spreading through him.

It struck him then; this was what a home sounded like.

___

Jake, who had been dramatically draped across Ni-ki’s lap just moments ago, suddenly sat up straight like he’d just remembered something. His grin spread wide as he reached behind him and pulled something from his backpack.

“Wait. Before I forget—don’t think we didn’t remember, birthday boy.” He held out a small, squishy birthday cake plush, its stitched candles sticking out at odd angles. “Happy birthday, Ni-ki!”

The room erupted with chuckles, the plush looking almost ridiculous in Jake’s hands.

Jay, seated cross-legged on the carpet with a soda in hand, smiled faintly. “I didn’t bake or buy an actual cake since…” He paused, his tone gentler. Everyone understood without him finishing—Ni-ki had told them wasn't fond of birthday cakes for his birthday. None of them knew why, but they respected it enough not to ask.

Ni-ki eyed the plush with the most unimpressed expression he could muster, then cringed as Jake pressed it into his arms. “This is so lame.” Still, he hugged it to his chest anyway, muttering a low, almost embarrassed, “Thanks.”

From his spot on the armrest, Jungwon puckered his lips dramatically and blew Ni-ki a loud, exaggerated kiss. “That’s my gift.”

Ni-ki made a show of swatting the air like he was batting away a fly, rolling his eyes. “Keep it, hyung.”

Sunghoon, leaning back with his mug of coffee, let out a soft chuckle. “Happy birthday, Ni-ki,” he said warmly.

“Happy birthday,” Sunoo added, a little shy but sincere.

Ni-ki’s gaze flicked toward him, and before Sunoo could brace himself, the younger boy leaned over and pulled him into a brief hug, ruffling his hair roughly. “You’re so adorable when you say stuff like that, hyung,” Ni-ki teased.

Sunoo swatted his shoulder lightly, trying (and failing) to hide his smile. “Cut it out.”

From the corner of the couch, Heeseung leaned forward. “Since it’s your birthday, you get to request the menu. Jay will cook whatever you want tonight.”

“Why me—” Jay started but was quickly cut off.

Ni-ki didn’t miss a beat. “Korean beef,” he said with a mischievous grin.

Heeseung raised a brow, unimpressed.

Ni-ki laughed, then shrugged. “Fine, fine. Just bungeoppang then.”

That earned a round of chuckles. Everyone knew how obsessed Ni-ki was with the fish-shaped pastry.

“I’ll buy it later,” Sunoo volunteered quickly, almost before he thought about it.

“I’ll go with you,” Heeseung said immediately, seizing the chance.

The others exchanged knowing glances, but no one commented, letting the moment pass with quiet smirks tugging at their lips.

___

Jake and Ni-ki didn’t take long to fall back into their usual bickering. Jake had claimed dibs on the PS5 earlier, and Ni-ki wasn’t about to let that go unchallenged.

“Hyung, you literally played last time,” Ni-ki shot back, trying to wrestle the controller Jake had dug out from under the TV stand.

Jake hugged it to his chest like a prized possession. “And I’ll play this time too!”

“You’re so greedy.”

“You’re so annoying.”

Sunghoon leaned back on the couch, watching the back-and-forth with his coffee mug in hand. “You do know both of you can play at the same time, right?”

Both Jake and Ni-ki froze, glanced at each other, and then burst out laughing as if it was the funniest revelation in the world.

“At this point, you’re just finding excuses to fight,” Sunghoon added with a roll of his eyes. He pushed himself up, ignoring their giggles, and headed toward the kitchen.

Jay was at the sink, sleeves rolled up as he washed the pork belly, while Jungwon leaned over the counter, chopping green onions with practiced ease. Their conversation flowed casually, sprinkled with laughter whenever Jungwon tossed in a jab.

“You chop slower than my grandma,” Jungwon teased, smirking as Jay gave him a flat look over his shoulder.

“My grandma could outcook you blindfolded,” Jay fired back smoothly.

From the counter, Sunghoon set his empty mug down and glanced between them. “Need a hand?”

Jay straightened, flicking water droplets from his fingers before pointing toward the shelf. “Yeah. Make the sauce. The gochujang’s up there. Garlic too.”

“Got it,” Sunghoon replied, already rolling up his sleeves. He moved with quiet familiarity, pulling out ingredients as Jay rattled off instructions, measuring and mixing while Jay went back to rinsing the pork. Jungwon, knife tapping against the board, leaned over just enough to peek into Sunghoon’s bowl.

“Don’t make it too spicy,” he said lightly. “Jake cries when it’s too hot.”

“Do not,” Jake’s voice rang from the living room.

Ni-ki cackled in response.

Sunghoon allowed himself the smallest smirk as he stirred the sauce.

Then Jungwon glanced around, noticing two were missing. “Wait—where’s Heeseung? And Sunoo?”

Without looking up, Jay answered, “Heeseung said he’s changing. They’re going out to grab Ni-ki’s bungeoppang.”

As if on cue, footsteps padded by. Heeseung and Sunoo passed the kitchen doorway, coats on. Sunoo’s gaze flicked to the three at the counter, curious for just a moment. Heeseung said something low before opening the door, and then they were gone.

Sunghoon’s hand slowed over the sauce. Heeseung was steady, dependable, always attentive—but around Sunoo, there was something different. Not obvious, not enough for anyone to name. Just… a shift. A softness in the edges. It wasn’t loud, but it was there if you were paying attention.

He cleared his throat, keeping his tone casual. “...Do you guys feel it too? The vibe between those two.”

Jungwon’s knife paused mid-chop. He tilted his head, smirking faintly. “Thought I was the only one seeing it.”

Jay let out a soft chuckle, shaking water off his hands. “It’s there. You’d have to be blind not to catch it.”

From the living room, Jake suddenly appeared at the counter, Ni-ki trailing close behind, both abandoning their game. “Catch what?” Jake asked, leaning in.

The three at the counter exchanged looks before laughing.

Ni-ki snorted, jerking his thumb toward Jake. “See? Like him. Always the last to notice.”

Jake frowned, clearly offended. “Notice what?! What are you guys talking about?”

Jungwon only smirked, returning to his chopping. “Relax, you’ll figure it out.”

Jake groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You guys are the worst.”

Their laughter echoed through the kitchen, spilling into the living room, warm and easy.

___

The moment they stepped outside, a sharp breeze brushed their cheeks. It wasn’t night yet, but the sky was already dimming, streaks of pale pink and gray stretching across the horizon. Their breath fogged in the air, little clouds rising and fading with each word.

The street stretched quiet ahead of them, the snow crunching under their sneakers. Their breath came out in faint clouds, fading quickly into the chill. Heeseung walked with his hands stuffed in his coat pockets, steps steady, while Sunoo trailed just half a pace behind, hugging himself against the cold.

“Ni-ki and his bungeoppang,” Sunoo said after a moment, his tone half amused, half curious. “Does he really eat it that much?”

Heeseung’s mouth curved into a small smile. “Obsessed is the right word. Every time he's over, without fail, he begs me to take him to this stall. Says nowhere else gets it right.”

Sunoo tilted his head, watching the way their footprints lined up in the snow. “I didn’t think everyone would remember his birthday like that. I mean… the cake plush, all the jokes—it was kind of warm.”

Heeseung glanced at him, his expression softening. “Of course we’d remember. He acts like a brat most of the time, but he’s still our youngest. You don’t just forget things like that.”

Sunoo hummed quietly, more to himself than to Heeseung. “It’s nice.” He paused, then added, almost shyly, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen birthdays celebrated that way before.”

“Really?” Heeseung raised a brow.

“Mm.” Sunoo shrugged, kicking lightly at a patch of snow. “Guess it’s different when you’re with people who… care like that.”

Heeseung didn’t answer right away. He just walked a little slower until their steps fell in sync, the corner of his mouth tugging upward in something that wasn’t quite a smile, but close.

“Get used to it,” he said simply. “You’re part of this now too.”

Sunoo blinked, caught off guard, before quickly looking ahead again. “…Right.”

The familiar scent of sweet bread wafted through the air just then, pulling Sunoo out of his thoughts. Ahead, the glow of a small stall lit the street corner, people queued up, their hands rubbing together for warmth.

“There it is,” Heeseung said, nodding toward it. “The sacred bungeoppang stall of Nishimura Riki.”

Sunoo let out a small laugh at the way he said it, shaking his head as they joined the line.

The line moved quickly, and soon they were close enough that the warmth from the griddle brushed against their faces. Rows of fish-shaped pastries sizzled in their molds, the sweet smell of red bean filling thick in the air.

The vendor glanced up, his eyes crinkling when he recognized Heeseung. “Back again? You’ve got timing like clockwork, kid. Let me guess—buying for the younger one?”

Heeseung chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. It’s his birthday today, actually.”

“Ah, no wonder.” The man flipped a pastry with practiced ease. “You two always show up when it matters.” His gaze flicked briefly to Sunoo, curious but kind. “First time here?”

Sunoo blinked, caught off guard by being addressed. “Uh—yeah.”

“He’s new,” Heeseung said smoothly, handing over a bill. “But trust me, once he tries these, he’ll be hooked too.”

The vendor laughed and packed up a dozen, slipping in an extra one before sealing the bag. “On the house for the birthday boy. Make sure he knows it’s from me.”

They stepped aside with the warm bag, the heat seeping through the paper. Sunoo cradled it in both hands like it was a treasure.

“Smells good,” he murmured, curiosity winning out as he fished one out. The pastry burned pleasantly against his fingers, but the first bite nearly made him yelp. The filling was molten hot, and he clamped his lips shut, cheeks puffed out as he struggled to chew without burning his tongue.

Heeseung burst into laughter beside him, the sound rich in the crisp air. “Didn’t anyone teach you to wait a second?”

Sunoo glared at him weakly, still chewing, his face warming for more reasons than one. “You could’ve warned me,” he mumbled once he swallowed.

“I thought it was common sense,” Heeseung teased, still grinning as he reached into the bag for one of his own. “Guess not.”

Sunoo rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the faint smile tugging at his lips. He hugged the bag a little closer as they started walking back.

_

The bag of bungeoppang was warm against his chest, almost too warm, but Sunoo didn’t loosen his hold. The heat kept his fingers from freezing, but more than that, it gave him something to focus on—something other than the boy walking next to him.

Heeseung had finished his bread already, his hands tucked into his pockets as he strolled with the kind of ease Sunoo could never quite imitate. Every now and then, the light from the street lamps caught the sharp lines of his face, softening them just enough that Sunoo’s stomach twisted.

“You cold?” Heeseung asked suddenly, breaking into his thoughts.

Sunoo blinked. “…Not really. The bag’s doing the job.” He lifted it slightly in demonstration, hoping his voice sounded steadier than he felt.

Heeseung chuckled, low and warm. “You look like it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held.”

Sunoo ducked his head, embarrassed. “…Maybe it is.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them. And for a second, it felt like he wasn’t just talking about the bag.

They walked in rhythm, shoes crunching softly against the thin layer of snow. Sunoo found his gaze wandering—toward the way Heeseung’s breath fogged in the air, toward the relaxed tilt of his shoulders. It unsettled him how easily his attention drifted there, how natural it felt to want to keep looking.

“You know…” Heeseung’s voice came quieter this time, thoughtful. “I’m glad you came today.”

Sunoo tightened his grip on the bag. His chest gave a strange flutter, the kind he’d been trying to ignore these past weeks. “Well… it’s Ni-ki’s birthday. I couldn’t not come.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Sunoo glanced at him quickly—too quickly—and caught the curve of a smile, soft but steady. His heart tripped over itself, forcing him to look away almost instantly.

Why did such simple words feel so heavy coming from Heeseung? Why did it feel like they were meant for him in a way no one else could hear?

“…You say stuff like that too easily,” Sunoo muttered, scarf muffling his voice.

Heeseung laughed lightly, the sound curling warm against the cold air.

By the time they reached the apartment, Sunoo’s bungeoppang was gone, but the strange warmth in his chest remained. He told himself it was just from the food, from the walk, from the cold outside and the heat inside. But as he trailed Heeseung through the door, Sunoo knew better.

He just didn’t know what to do about it.

___

The apartment smelled warm and savory, the sound of oil popping filling the air. Jay stood at the stove, brow furrowed in concentration as he turned slices of pork belly with a practiced flick of the tongs. Beside him, Jungwon hovered with a cutting board in hand, green onions neatly chopped and ready. He didn’t even need to ask what to do—he just stood close, passing things over whenever Jay stretched his hand out.

At the far end of the counter, Sunghoon rinsed rice in steady circles, the water turning cloudy as he swirled it with his hand. He drained it carefully, then filled the pot again before slipping it into the cooker, fingers pressing the button with the kind of quiet assurance that showed he’d done this a hundred times before.

The three of them fit into the kitchen space with surprising ease, conversation flowing as naturally as the steam curling upward from the stove.

“Careful, you’re splashing,” Jungwon teased, pointing at the streak of oil that had landed on Jay’s arm.

Jay rolled his eyes, flipping another strip of pork. “If you’re so worried, come closer and block it for me.”

“Pass.” Jungwon smirked, leaning just out of reach. “You cook slower than my grandma, though. At this rate we’ll be eating breakfast instead of dinner.”

Sunghoon glanced up from the rice cooker at that, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Don’t provoke him while he’s holding hot oil.”

Jungwon only grinned wider. “I’m just keeping him motivated.”

Jay muttered something under his breath, but Sunghoon could see the curve at the edge of his lips as he worked.

The smell of pork belly grew richer, filling every corner of the apartment. Jay tilted the pan slightly, letting the fat render and sizzle.

“I swear you just like making noise,” Jungwon teased, leaning against the counter.

“It’s called cooking with flair,” Jay shot back, flipping a piece of meat with practiced ease.

From the living room came Ni-ki’s loud groan. “Hyung, move over! You’re taking all the space!”

“I was here first!” Jake replied, mock outrage lacing his tone.

“You’ve got a whole couch over there!”

“This one’s better!”

Sunghoon chuckled quietly, “they’ll argue over anything,” he muttered, brushing his hands together.

“Part of the charm,” Jungwon said with a smirk, watching Jay carefully arrange the pork on the plate.

Jake let out a yelp from the living room. “Yah! Did you just kick me?”

Ni-ki laughed, unbothered. “I didn’t even notice!”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, taking a step toward the living room. “At this rate, someone’s going to end up under the couch.”

The two froze, then exchanged guilty grins. “We’re… careful!” Jake said, though his tone betrayed him.

Sunghoon relieved a big sigh and returned to the kitchen.

Sunghoon took Jungwon's place beside Jay as he handed Sunghoon the sauce bowl. “Here,” Jay said. “Mix it smooth before the pork goes in.”

The motions were familiar, comforting—the clink of the spoon against the ceramic, the hiss of meat on the pan, Jungwon’s quiet chuckle when Jay teased Sunghoon about his stirring technique.

The front door clicked open, and footsteps padded down the hall. Sunoo followed Heeseung closely, clutching a paper bag to his chest. Before they could even reach the kitchen, Ni-ki had bolted from the living room.

“Sunoo! The bungeoppang!” he called, rushing over.

Sunoo laughed, holding the bag just out of reach. “Wait! I have to serve it on plates first!”

Heeseung reached over and flicked Ni-ki's forehead affectionately. “Let’s eat them for dinner. We’ll reheat the bungeoppang if it gets cold.”

Ni-ki pouted dramatically but obeyed, heading back to the living room to sit beside Jake, who ruffled his hair the moment he plopped down. “Focus on the game, little guy,” Jake teased.

Meanwhile, Sunoo and Heeseung made their way to the kitchen. Sunghoon was caught up in stirring the sauce for the second batch of pork, Jay had just stepped back from the stove to catch his breath, and Jungwon was perched against the counter, pouring a cup of coffee for Jay.

Heeseung took the bag of bungeoppang from Sunoo, placing it in the microwave for later. “We’ll just heat it up when it’s time,” he said with a small smile.

Sunoo found himself sitting next to Jay and Jungwon, loosening his scarf as he settled in. The kitchen smelled of sizzling pork, sweet pastries waiting in the microwave, and the quiet warmth of easy camaraderie.

Sunoo set his scarf on the back of the chair, glancing at the steaming pork and the sauce Sunghoon had just finished stirring.

“Smells amazing,” he said softly, more to himself than anyone else.

Jay grinned. “You’re just saying that so you get first dibs.”

Jungwon chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. “He’s got a point.”

Heeseung, standing nearby, nudged Sunoo gently with his shoulder. “Sit tight, don't exhaust yourself yet. We have a lot to do today.”

Sunoo’s lips tugged into a smile, and he sank a little lower in his chair, letting himself relax.

Sunghoon looked over his shoulders from the stove, “Everything okay over there?” he asked, nodding toward the living room, where Ni-ki and Jake were absorbed in the game again.

“Yep,” Sunoo said, voice light, “all under control.”

It was quiet for a beat, just the sounds of cooking and casual chatter, the kind that made the apartment feel like home. And in that quiet, Sunoo found himself watching Heeseung’s easy movements, the little attentions he gave without making a fuss—subtle, comforting, grounding.

___

By the time they finally finished cooking, it was well past seven in the evening. The aroma of pork and reheated bungeoppang still lingered in the apartment, and the table in the living room was now set with every dish neatly arranged. They all settled on the floor, surrounding it in a comfortable semi-circle.

Jay slid in next to Jungwon, who gave him a small nod. Sunoo naturally found his place beside Heeseung, who smiled lightly at him. Sunghoon took the next spot, followed by Jake and Ni-ki, who were practically buzzing with energy.

“Everything looks amazing,” Sunoo murmured, eyes briefly taking in the spread.

“Yeah, we did a good job,” Jay said, reaching for a piece of pork. Jungwon added, “Definitely worth the effort.”

Ni-ki’s grin was practically infectious. “Can we start already?” he asked eagerly.

Jake chimed in, “Yeah, I’m starving!”

With that, everyone started digging in. The clatter of chopsticks, small exclamations of approval, and quiet laughter filled the living room. Conversation flowed naturally between bites.

“So, what should we do after dinner?” Ni-ki asked between mouthfuls.

“Games!” Jake suggested immediately. “We can do a round of—”

“Hold on,” Jay cut in, shaking his head with a small smile. “First, we all wash up.”

Heeseung nodded in agreement. “Yeah, everyone please wash the filth off your body.”

Jungwon shrugged. “Makes sense.”

Jake and Ni-ki nodded eagerly, already imagining the fun that awaited. Sunghoon, meanwhile, just gave a small shrug, already feeling sticky from the kitchen heat and sweat. A shower after cooking was natural.

Sunoo stayed quiet, quietly savoring each bite. Truth be told, it had been a while since he had a proper meal, and this—warm, simple, comforting—was exactly what he needed.

Heeseung glanced at him, eyes soft, a fond smile tugging at his lips. Sunoo froze mid-bite, almost choking on the food. He quickly sipped from his drink, turning his gaze to Jungwon to continue the conversation instead, cheeks warming.

Heeseung’s smile faltered slightly into a small, almost imperceptible pout as Sunoo shifted his attention to the others. He settled into the rhythm of eating, exchanging light conversation with Sunghoon and Jay, leaving the brief, fond moment between them unspoken—but lingering in the air.

____

“Alright, who’s going first?” Jay asked, lounging on the couch with Jungwon beside him.

“I call dibs!” Jake shouted instantly, practically jumping from his seat.

“You always call dibs,” Ni-ki grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“I’m fastest,” Jake shot back, grabbing the towel and disappearing down the hall before anyone could argue further.

“Speedy as always,” Jungwon muttered with a smirk. Jay just shook his head, leaning back.

A few minutes later, Jake emerged, hair damp and tousled, the faint scent of his shampoo trailing behind him. “Done. Quick and efficient,” he said, flashing a triumphant grin.

Ni-ki clapped mockingly. “Wow, he really sprinted through that shower.”

“Better than taking forever,” Sunghoon said, standing and stretching. “My turn.” He followed Jake, equally quick and efficient, leaving the couch to Jay and Jungwon.

“Well, now it’s our turn,” Jay said, letting Jungwon pour him another cup of tea. They lounged, watching the hallway like spectators at a race.

After a short while, Sunghoon walked out from his bath with relief written all over this face as he darted to the guest room.

Sunoo and Ni-ki exchanged a glance. “Rock paper scissors?” Sunoo suggested, shrugging.

Ni-ki nodded, rolling his eyes in mock defeat. “Fine. Best two out of three?”

“Deal,” Sunoo said, bouncing slightly on his feet.

They started their rounds, laughter spilling into the living room with every throw.

“Rock!” Sunoo shouted.

“Scissors!” Ni-ki groaned, scrunching his face.

“Paper!” Sunoo added for the second round.

“Rock!” Ni-ki whined, pouting in a way that made him look almost like a little duck.

Sunoo jumped in place, victorious. “Yes! I win!”

Heeseung, watching from the couch, let out a small laugh. “You two are ridiculous,” he said fondly.

Ni-ki huffed, crossing his arms. “You got lucky,” he muttered, though there was a smile tugging at his lips.

“Nice!” Sunoo declared, hopping lightly on his feet.

Heeseung shook his head, still chuckling. “This is too cute,” said Heeseung, low enough so the other couldn't hear.

Jay raised a brow. “Enjoy it while you can, Sunoo. Bathrooms are a limited resource.”

“Yeah, once we’re done, it’s chaos,” Jungwon added, smiling at the scene.

Sunoo grinned, brushing past them and heading toward the bathroom—only for Ni-ki to suddenly dart forward, slam the door shut, and lock it.

“Ni-ki! What the—” Sunoo shouted, pounding lightly on the door.

From inside, Ni-ki’s teasing voice rang out, “Guess I’m first now! Better luck next time!”

Sunoo groaned, fists clenching in playful frustration. For once, he actually wanted to bite Ni-ki. He made a mental note: step on his foot later…

Heeseung just laughed, shaking his head as Sunoo leaned against the door in defeat. Jay and Jungwon exchanged amused glances from the couch, sipping their coffee like nothing unusual had happened, though the mischievous energy from the two younger boys filled the apartment.

___

The apartment had cooled after the steam and heat of the kitchen, everyone feeling refreshed from their showers. Towels were hung, hair dried, and clothes swapped for comfort.

Sunoo found himself settling next to Heeseung on the couch, still a little unsure where to place himself in the lively group. Jay and Jungwon sprawled on the other side, grabbing snacks from the table, while Sunghoon, Jake, and Ni-ki settled on the floor with pillows.

“So, who brought the game?” Jungwon asked, stretching his legs.

“I’ve got it!” Jake said eagerly, rifling through a small shelf by the TV. “It’s Mario Party! We can all play together!”

Ni-ki’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Finally, I get to crush you all,” he said dramatically, brandishing his controller.

Jay raised an eyebrow. “Crush? You really think you’re winning against all of us?”

“Pfft, please. I’m the undisputed champ,” Ni-ki said, puffing out his chest.

Heeseung chuckled, handing Sunoo a controller. “You’re with me,” he said lightly, nudging him.

Sunoo blinked down at the unfamiliar device. “Uh… I don’t really… know how to play,” he admitted quietly.

Heeseung smiled softly. “No worries. I’ll show you. It’s easy once you get the hang of it.”

Jay smirked. “Never played before? That explains a lot.”

Sunoo shrugged, a faint blush rising. “I… never really had anyone to play with. And it’s not exactly cheap…”

Ni-ki’s playful grin softened. “Well, lucky for you, we’ll carry you through—if you survive the rest of us.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let him lose,” Heeseung said, lightly tapping Sunoo’s arm.

Sunoo’s stomach gave a small flutter. “Okay… I’ll try,” he said, gripping the controller a little tighter.

Jake and Ni-ki immediately started strategizing, whispering and nudging each other, while Jay and Jungwon played more methodically, teasing each other over every misstep.

Sunoo stayed close to Heeseung, who patiently guided him through the basics. Every time a dice roll went their way, Heeseung gave him a small nudge or whispered encouragement, and Sunoo’s grin grew wider, forgetting the initial awkwardness.

Even Sunghoon, usually quiet, chuckled at the antics. “This is ridiculous… but I love it.”

The game quickly became less about winning and more about the shared energy—the teasing, the laughter, and Sunoo’s quiet awe at being included. He realized that this—friends, laughter, and the simple warmth of being part of a group—was something he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Sunoo’s hands fumbled over the buttons at first, pressing the wrong ones and letting his character fall off the board more than once.

“Ah! No, that’s the wrong button!” he groaned, watching his little avatar tumble into the water.

Heeseung leaned over, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Try pressing this one first, then that—see? Like this.” He guided Sunoo’s fingers gently over the controls.

“Like this?” Sunoo asked, still uncertain.

“Exactly,” Heeseung said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re getting it.”

Ni-ki, from the floor, snorted. “Wow, that’s… slow. But cute.”

Jake laughed. “He’s never played before, Ni-ki. Cut him some slack.”

Sunoo’s cheeks warmed, but he focused again. The next roll went much better—he advanced a few spaces, landing on a bonus tile.

“Hey! Look at that!” Sunoo exclaimed, eyes widening.

Heeseung nudged him with an elbow. “See? Told you. Not bad at all.”

Jay leaned back on the couch, grinning. “Okay, now he’s officially dangerous. Watch out, Ni-ki.”

Ni-ki pouted dramatically. “I’ll crush him eventually,” he promised, though the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement.

Sunoo laughed, more at the banter than anything else, feeling a little more relaxed. He even managed to get his first mini-game victory with Heeseung quietly cheering him on, giving him small tips and gentle encouragement.

“See? You’re learning fast,” Heeseung whispered as the mini-game ended.

Sunoo’s grin was wide, and for a moment he forgot about being inexperienced—he was just having fun, laughing with everyone around him.

Even Sunghoon chuckled from his spot on the floor. “Look at him go. He’s actually getting the hang of it!”

By the time the next board round ended, Sunoo was confidently rolling dice, making choices, and even teasing Ni-ki back when he tried to block him. Heeseung’s quiet presence beside him, guiding without hovering, made the whole experience warm and easy.

Jay leaned back, sipping his drink. “Not bad for a first-timer. I’m impressed.”

Sunoo glanced at Heeseung, who gave him a subtle, proud smile, and his stomach did a little flip. He quickly looked away, focusing on the game again as laughter and playful chaos continued to fill the living room.

The game had reached a mini-game round, and the energy in the living room spiked. Everyone leaned forward, eyes glued to the TV as the chaotic little challenge began—collecting coins while dodging obstacles.

Ni-ki was squealing in excitement. “Take that, Jake!” he shouted, knocking a coin right out from under him.

Jake groaned dramatically. “Nooo! My perfect run!”

Sunoo’s fingers moved faster than before, trying to keep up with the on-screen chaos. He shouted in triumph when he grabbed a coin just before a falling obstacle.

Heeseung leaned close, murmuring, “Nice timing. Keep it up.”

Sunoo’s grin widened. “Yes! Did you see that?”

Jay laughed from the couch. “Look at him go! He’s actually competitive now.”

Jungwon chuckled. “I think he’s officially part of the chaos.”

Even Sunghoon, sitting cross-legged on the floor, shook his head in amusement. “I can’t keep track of all of you.”

Ni-ki made a particularly bold move and accidentally knocked Sunoo’s character into a pit. Sunoo squealed, waving his arms in mock frustration.

“Hey! That’s cheating!” Sunoo shouted, though the laugh in his voice gave him away.

Heeseung just nudged him, smiling fondly. “All part of the game,” he said, quiet enough that only Sunoo could hear.

Sunoo felt his stomach flutter again, but he tried to focus on the next turn, rolling the dice with more confidence this time. Each small victory, each mischievous interaction with the others, made him feel… lighter.

When the mini-game finally ended, everyone collapsed into laughter and playful groans. Coins were counted, rankings announced, and even Ni-ki had to admit defeat this round, pouting in exaggerated fashion.

Sunoo leaned back against Heeseung, letting out a satisfied sigh. “That was… actually really fun.”

“It’s more fun when you’re not worried about messing up,” Heeseung said, voice soft. “See? You fit right in.”

Sunoo felt a warmth rise in his chest. “Yeah… I think I do.”

The group gradually calmed down, the chaotic energy softening into a comfortable buzz of conversation. Snacks were passed around again, casual jokes exchanged, and the earlier intensity of the game faded into relaxed chatter.

Jay stretched, grinning. “Alright. For now, let’s just chill.”

Jungwon nodded. “Agreed. I need a break from Ni-ki’s antics anyway.”

Ni-ki feigned offense. “Hey! That's what makes me charming, thank you very much.”

Sunoo laughed quietly, glancing at Heeseung, who returned the smile with a small, knowing look. It was the kind of calm, content moment that made him realize just how much he had needed this—the warmth of friends, playful chaos, and quiet closeness all in one evening.

___

Ni-ki leaned back on his elbows, grinning mischievously. “You know what we should do next?”

“What now?” Sunghoon asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ni-ki’s grin widened. “Truth or dare! It’s the perfect next step. Who’s in?”

Jake immediately clapped his hands. “Oh, yes! I call first!”

Jay raised an eyebrow but smiled. “You’re really going all in tonight, huh?”

“Of course,” Jake said confidently. “We’ve got time, right? It’s a sleepover!”

Sunoo glanced at Heeseung, who gave a small, encouraging nod. “Sounds… fun,” Sunoo murmured, still a little shy.

Heeseung leaned back casually, stretching one arm behind his head. “I’m in. Let’s see what you’ve got, Ni-ki.”

Jungwon smirked, folding his arms. “This should be entertaining,” he said.

Ni-ki bounced on the floor, clearly excited. “Perfect! Rules are simple. We take turns. Truth or dare. No chicken-outs—or the punishment is a flick on the head or something equally humiliating.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes but smiled faintly. “Fine. But let’s keep it harmless.”

Sunoo’s fingers fiddled with the edge of his pillow, heart racing slightly. He hadn’t done anything like this before, not really with friends who actually treated him like… friends. Heeseung caught his gaze and gave him a small, reassuring smile.

Jake immediately chose dare. “Bring it on!”

Ni-ki’s eyes twinkled. “I dare you to sing the first line of your favorite song… in your best opera voice!”

Jake groaned dramatically but stood, launching into a hilariously exaggerated rendition that had everyone—including Sunoo—laughing until their stomachs hurt.

Ni-ki clapped. “Okay, that’s one for the history books.” He bounced eagerly on the floor. “Alright, Sunoo'sturn. Truth or dare?”

Sunoo swallowed, hesitating for a moment before answering. “Truth,” he said quietly, his fingers fiddling with the edge of his pillow.

Ni-ki’s mischievous grin widened. “Ooooh, juicy! Tell us… have you ever had a crush on anyone?”

Sunoo froze for a moment, then whispered hesitantly, “Yes… maybe.” Even he wasn’t completely sure how to answer.

Heeseung, sitting beside him, tilted his head slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes. Wait… a crush? On someone? He didn’t press, but the question lingered in his mind.

Ni-ki leaned forward eagerly. “When? And who? Spill!”

Sunoo chuckled softly and shook his head. “We’re not playing 21 questions, Ni-ki.”

Ni-ki let out a quiet, disappointed “aww…” under his breath, but he didn’t make a scene.

Sunoo just laughed, brushing it off, and the game moved on. Even as he focused on the next dare, he stole a few quick, nervous glances at Heeseung, feeling his stomach flip.

Heeseung didn’t notice the glances, but the question itself stayed in his mind, making him wonder silently.

Ni-ki’s grin widened, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Alright, Heeseung! Your turn for a dare. And I promise, this one’s going to be fun.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, leaning back casually. “Alright… hit me.”

Ni-ki’s eyes sparkled. “I dare you, the ever great Heeseung, to deliver a dramatic love confession… to an object in this room. You can pick anything—but you have to make it heartfelt and convincing. No backing out!”

The group erupted in laughter immediately, Sunoo stiffening slightly beside Heeseung, though curiosity made him watch intently.

Heeseung’s lips curved into a faint, amused smile. “A love confession… to an object?”

“Yes! Make it theatrical,” Ni-ki insisted. “Bonus points if Sunoo almost dies from embarrassment!”

Heeseung scanned the room. His gaze landed on the bungeoppang from earlier, still sitting on a plate nearby. Perfect.

He cleared his throat dramatically, standing tall and placing one hand over his chest. “Oh, precious bungeoppang,” he intoned, voice rich and serious. “Ever since the day you came into my life, I have longed to taste your sweet, golden goodness. My heart beats only for you, and I… shall reheat you carefully, for our time together is fleeting yet eternal!”

Sunoo’s mouth went dry, and he barely managed a laugh, trying not to let his face betray just how flustered he felt. The rest of the group was doubled over, Jake and Ni-ki practically rolling on the floor, and even Sunghoon was shaking his head with a small, amused smile.

Jay clapped dramatically. “Yes! Ten out of ten! Absolutely heartfelt!”

Heeseung returned to his seat, smirking lightly, and slightly embarrassed, while Sunoo fidgeted beside him, secretly relieved—and secretly thrilled—by the playful performance.

“Alright, my turn! Dare, obviously.”

“Truth or dare?” Jake asked, smirking, already anticipating trouble.

“Dare!” Ni-ki declared confidently.

Jungwon grinned, thinking quickly. “Okay… I dare you and Jake to hold hands for the rest of the game .”

Both Ni-ki and Jake froze, eyes widening. “Wait—what?!” Ni-ki exclaimed, trying to wiggle his hand away.

Jake grimaced, shooting Ni-ki a half-laughing, half-exasperated look. “Seriously?”

“Yes! Until the game ends,” Jungwon insisted, a mischievous glint in his eye. “No excuses.”

Ni-ki and Jake reluctantly reached out, hands clasped together, both making exaggerated grimacing faces. Ni-ki’s free hand flailed a little as if trying to protest, and Jake huffed dramatically, muttering under his breath, but neither let go.

Sunoo stifled a laugh beside Heeseung, who raised an eyebrow, clearly curious to see how this would unfold. “They really do fight over everything…” Sunoo murmured quietly.

“Heh… this will be interesting,” Heeseung replied, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

The group burst into laughter at the sight of the two squirming, grimacing, and trying to concentrate on the game while still holding hands. Even Sunghoon shook his head with a small, amused smile.

Ni-ki whispered under his breath to Jake, “We’re gonna survive this…”

Jake shot back, mock-seriously, “Barely.”

“Alright, Jungwon hyung! Truth or dare?”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, bracing himself. “Dare,” he said, trying to stay composed.

Ni-ki’s grin widened. “I dare you to hold hands with Jay until the next round ends.”

“Wait… what?” someone muttered from across the room, but no one really paid attention.

“Yes! Hands. No excuses!” Ni-ki said gleefully, completely unaware of the underlying tension.

The two of them grimaced, the gesture outwardly awkward, but inside it sparked something entirely different. Both felt the subtle electricity, the almost-hidden warmth in the brief contact, but neither dared to acknowledge it aloud.

Sunoo, sitting nearby, noticed their stiff postures and slightly flushed faces, but assumed it was just the dare making them uncomfortable. He glanced at Heeseung, who raised an eyebrow in quiet amusement, sensing the unusual energy but not fully understanding why.

Jungwon’s lips twitched into a small, reluctant smile, and Jay let out a soft laugh, both silently acknowledging the shared tension between them. The room continued buzzing with laughter and playful energy, but for a moment, only the two of them felt the quiet weight of the dare.

Jay let out a soft laugh and raised an eyebrow at Jungwon. “Shouldn’t I get a skip? This is already like a dare for me too.”

The room immediately erupted in mock outrage. “Boo!” Ni-ki and Jake shouted in unison, while Sunghoon rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his grin.

“No skipping! Rules are rules,” Jake said, trying to sound stern but failing as the corners of his lips twitched upward.

Jay sighed dramatically, shaking his head.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Jay said without hesitation.

Jungwon perked up immediately. “Okay, then. Did you really finish all your assignments like you told us to?”

Jay froze for a second, eyes flicking around the circle. “...Of course I—” He stopped himself, sighed, and looked away. “Fine. No. Not all of them.”

The room erupted.

“You lied?!” Jake gawked, clutching his chest dramatically. “I stayed up two nights in a row because of you!”

“I knew it,” Sunghoon said calmly, not even looking up as he stretched his legs out.

Sunoo couldn’t help it—he burst out laughing, covering his mouth with his sleeve.

Jay raised his hands defensively, trying not to laugh himself. “Hey, if I said I didn’t do mine either, none of you would’ve moved! I was motivating you.”

“Motivating?” Ni-ki echoed in disbelief, pointing at him. “You tricked us!”

The mock outrage around the circle only made Jay smirk a little, though his ears had turned red under the attention.

The laughter slowly ebbed, settling into the kind of tired quiet that only came after too much food and too many rounds of teasing. Jake, sprawled out with his back against the couch, stretched his arms above his head before letting out a wide yawn.

“I’m getting tired,” he muttered, voice already heavy with sleep.

“That sucks,” Ni-ki jeered instantly, tossing a cushion at him. “You’re the one who begged us to play games!”

Jay smirked, leaning back on his hands. “He’s got a point, Jake. Hypocrite much?”

Jake only stuck out his tongue in half-hearted defiance, but his drooping eyelids betrayed him. And despite Ni-ki’s protests, the room slowly shifted into the hush of bedtime.

___

In the guest room, Ni-ki and Jungwon practically cornered Sunoo, insisting he sleep with them. Sunoo tried to argue his way out, but the combined weight of Jungwon’s grin and Ni-ki’s mock-threatening pout was impossible to resist. In the end, Sunoo relented, squeezing onto the bed with the two of them.

Meanwhile, Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon claimed the living room. Heeseung had offered his bed—more than once—but they all refused in unison, saying he should at least enjoy his own room. With a resigned chuckle, Heeseung fetched them a futon, three pillows, and a blanket, laying them out neatly before bidding them goodnight.

One by one, the lights dimmed. The apartment quieted, filled only with the soft rustle of blankets, the faint hum of the refrigerator, and the steady rhythm of their breathing.

___

The apartment had fallen into a deep stillness. The kind of silence that only arrived long after laughter had faded and the weight of sleep settled in. The faint hum of the refrigerator carried through the open kitchen, steady and soft, while someone in the living room shifted in their futon with a quiet rustle.

From the guest room, a muffled snore broke the calm—Ni-ki’s, unmistakably. Jungwon mumbled something incoherent in response, but didn’t wake. The blankets shifted again, and for a moment, everything was still.

That was when Sunoo’s eyes blinked open.

The darkness pressed in, unfamiliar yet oddly comforting, but the heaviness in his chest kept him from sinking back into sleep. He turned his head slightly, listening to the steady breathing of the boys beside him, and wondered why he felt so awake.

The weight of Ni-ki’s arm pressed faintly against his side, heavy even in sleep, and Jungwon’s steady breaths warmed the air somewhere near his shoulder. Sunoo lay still, staring at the faint outline of the ceiling. He couldn’t explain why he was awake—only that something inside him felt restless.

He had never really done this before. Not with friends, not with cousins, not with anyone. The only memory that came close was curling into his grandmother’s futon as a child, sneaking in whenever the dark became too much. She never scolded him for it, only shifted to make space, her warmth and presence enough to lull him back to sleep.

A faint chuckle slipped from him then, almost a scoff. He didn’t fear the dark anymore. He couldn’t afford to. Not after he lost her when he was only eleven, forced to toughen himself quicker than most. The shadows had become familiar, something he’d learned to live with.

And yet, lying here with Ni-ki and Jungwon at his side, the quiet rhythm of their breathing filling the room, something in his chest twisted unexpectedly.

The heaviness in his chest lingered. The more he tried to will it away, the sharper it pressed. Finally, with a quiet exhale, he eased Ni-ki’s arm off and carefully slipped out of the bed, making sure not to disturb either of them.

The apartment was cool and still as he padded down the hall. He expected only silence, but the moment he stepped into the kitchen, he stopped short.

At the counter, illuminated faintly by the stove light, sat Heeseung with a mug in hand, stirring it slowly with a spoon. The faint clink against ceramic filled the quiet.

Heeseung looked up first, surprise flickering across his face before softening. “Why are you still awake? It’s already three.”

Sunoo blinked, caught off guard, then shifted the weight of his feet against the floor. “…I could ask you the same thing.”

Heeseung set his spoon down with a soft clink, shoulders lifting in a small shrug. “I just couldn’t sleep. Probably because I knocked out early yesterday. Now I’m wide awake.”

Sunoo nodded, stepping further into the kitchen until he slid into the chair across from him. The cool surface of the table pressed against his arms as he leaned forward slightly. “I woke up and couldn’t keep my eyes closed anymore, so…” he gestured vaguely toward the hallway, “…I thought I’d get some fresh air.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he added, “Also, Ni-ki was hugging me so tight, I thought I might suffocate in my sleep.”

That earned him a quiet laugh from Heeseung, low and genuine. The sound made Sunoo’s chest flutter in a way he tried to ignore.

Then, with a tilt of his head, Heeseung teased, “You could always sleep with me instead.” His tone was light, easy—but whether he was joking or not, only he seemed to know.

Sunoo froze, eyes widening just a fraction before he quickly shook his head. “N-no, it’s fine,” he said too fast, his voice tripping over itself. “I’ll… manage.”

Heeseung raised a brow, amused. “That quick to refuse, huh?”

Sunoo scrambled for an excuse, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean—if I moved now, Ni-ki would probably notice and latch onto me even harder when I come back. It’s… safer this way.”

It was half-true. The real reason sat hot in his chest, impossible to admit—that if he so much as lay next to Heeseung, there’d be no way he’d sleep at all. Not when he was already turning into a tomato just from sitting across him at a kitchen table.

Heeseung didn’t press, just gave a small smile and turned back to his mug, taking a slow sip as if the offer hadn’t left his mouth at all.

Sunoo, however, sat with his thoughts spinning. He didn’t understand it—these signals Heeseung gave him. Sometimes it felt like he was being treated differently, singled out in quiet ways that made his chest tighten. Heeseung would notice when no one else did, offer little gestures of care that set Sunoo apart from the others.

And yet, just as easily, Heeseung would retreat, slipping back into the same easy camaraderie he shared with everyone else. Like nothing was different. Like there weren’t moments where their eyes caught and lingered longer than they should have.

Sunoo wasn’t even sure what it was he felt. The thought of giving it a name scared him—because naming it meant admitting it, and admitting it meant risking everything. And with Heeseung acting the way he did… it only tangled things further.

“Earth to Sunoo.”

He blinked, startled, to find Heeseung watching him with a raised brow.

“You zoned out,” Heeseung said, voice tinged with quiet amusement.

Sunoo straightened, shaking his head quickly. “It’s nothing. Just… thinking.” He forced a small smile, eager to move on. “

“Still,” he said with a faint grin, “I don’t envy you. Sleeping between Jungwon and Ni-ki? Sounds like a nightmare.”

Sunoo huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I didn’t even have a choice. They both ganged up on me and said I had to sleep with them.”

Heeseung chuckled, stirring his tea lazily. “Figures. You’re their favorite—of course they wouldn’t let you off the hook.”

Sunoo tried to roll his eyes, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him, tugging upward. “Favorite or victim, I’m not sure.”

“Both,” Heeseung said easily, his grin widening. “Definitely both.”

Sunoo ducked his head, trying to hide the way his smile lingered longer than he meant it to.

For a moment, the kitchen fell into an easy silence—just the faint hum of the refrigerator and the clink of Heeseung’s spoon against his mug. Then, Heeseung spoke again, quieter this time.

“Honestly… I was a little worried at first.”

Sunoo blinked up at him. “Worried?”

Heeseung leaned back slightly in his chair, eyes thoughtful. “That you wouldn’t get along with the others. They can be a lot sometimes. But… seeing you now? With them? It’s a relief. Like you’ve been here the whole time.”

He blinked once, twice, then looked down quickly, heart knocking against his ribs.

“…They’re easy to get along with,” Sunoo muttered, almost too soft. “It’s not hard.”

Heeseung’s lips curved, watching him for a beat longer before letting the moment go.

Sunoo, on the other hand, could feel the heat creeping up his neck. He cleared his throat, eyes darting anywhere but Heeseung. “So… do you always drink tea at three in the morning?”

Heeseung let out a low laugh, leaning back in his chair. “Only when I can’t sleep.”

The shift in topic was obvious, but Heeseung didn’t press. He just let it slide, answering as if nothing had changed.

Sunoo’s question seemed to spark something. Heeseung glanced down at the mug in his hands, then back at him. “Want one? I can make you tea too.”

For a second, Sunoo hesitated, but the warmth in Heeseung’s tone left little room to refuse. He gave a small nod. “…Sure. Thanks.”

Heeseung pushed his chair back, the legs scraping softly against the floor as he stood. Sunoo watched as he moved around the kitchen with practiced ease—opening the cabinet, pulling down another mug, filling it with water. Even the small things, like the way he leaned casually against the counter while waiting for the kettle, drew Sunoo’s eyes.

“You don’t usually drink tea at night?” Heeseung asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Sunoo shrugged lightly, trying not to look like he’d been caught staring. “Not really. Usually I just drink water and go back to bed. But… I guess it feels different tonight.”

“Different how?” Heeseung’s voice was calm, curious.

Sunoo faltered for half a beat before replying. “…I don’t know. Just… not used to being around this many people.”

Heeseung hummed in quiet understanding as the kettle clicked, steam curling upward. He poured the hot water into the mug, the rising warmth filling the silence. “You’ll get used to it,” he said simply, sliding a tea bag in before stirring it once.

Sunoo’s lips curved faintly. “That sounds like something only you would say.”

Heeseung glanced at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“You make everything sound easy.”

That brought a small smile to Heeseung’s face, though he didn’t reply. Instead, he carried the mug over and set it gently in front of Sunoo, the steam brushing between them.

“Careful. It’s hot.”

Sunoo wrapped his hands around the cup anyway, letting the heat soak into his palms. “…Thanks.”

___

Sunoo cupped the mug, letting the warmth seep into his hands. He took a small sip, the taste unfamiliar but soothing. Silence stretched comfortably between them, broken only by the quiet hum of the refrigerator and the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.

“You should try sleeping again after this,” Heeseung said, his voice low, almost coaxing.

Sunoo gave a little nod. “…I will. Just needed a breather.”

Heeseung hummed in acknowledgment, swirling the tea in his own cup. His gaze lingered on Sunoo for a moment, but he didn’t say anything else.

When Sunoo finished the last sip, he rose quietly and carried the mug to the sink. He rinsed it out carefully, the faint splash of water filling the silence. Heeseung watched him from his seat, an almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips.

“Thanks… for the tea,” Sunoo murmured as he set the mug upside down on the rack to dry.

“Anytime,” Heeseung replied softly.

Sunoo hesitated in the doorway, as though he wanted to say more, but instead he offered a small nod and slipped back toward the guest room. Heeseung’s eyes followed him until his footsteps faded into the quiet apartment, before he turned back to his own cooling tea.

___

The room was dark when he eased the door open, save for the soft glow of the moonlight sneaking through the curtains. Jungwon was curled up on one side of the bed, breathing steady, while Ni-ki had sprawled out across the blankets, one arm dangling dangerously close to the floor.

Careful not to wake them, Sunoo slipped under the blanket between them, Ni-ki instinctively shifting to press against his side. Sunoo let out a soundless chuckle, shaking his head as he settled in. The warmth around him was immediate, and before long, his eyelids grew heavy again.

In the quiet, the faint memory of Heeseung’s smile lingered in the back of his mind—soft, unshakable—until sleep finally pulled him under.

___

Sunoo woke to the sun slipping through the blinds, thin stripes of light stretching across the room. The first thing he noticed was the cold—sharp and still, the kind of winter chill that crept under the blankets when the futon was empty on either side.

He blinked groggily, sitting up as the realization hit him: Jungwon and Ni-ki were gone. The quiet only made the emptiness more obvious.

With a sluggish stretch, he pushed himself to his feet, his hair sticking up in every direction. Still in his pajamas, he padded to the door, one hand rubbing at his eyes as he shuffled into the hallway.

Laughter and voices drifted from the living room. As soon as he appeared in the doorway, all eyes turned his way.

“Morning,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep.

The chorus of coos came instantly.

“Look at him!” Jake grinned.

Jay shook his head, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him. Even Sunghoon’s usual cool expression softened.

Ni-ki was the first to move, springing up from his spot and trotting over. Without hesitation, he pinched Sunoo’s cheeks between his fingers. “Cute,” he muttered, muffled through a smile, before retreating back to sit beside Sunghoon as if nothing had happened.

Heeseung chuckled from where he sat, unable to hide the fondness in his tone.

Jungwon leaned back against the couch, eyes gleaming mischievously. “Hyung, better keep those cheeks away from me,” he said, baring his teeth dramatically. “Or I’ll bite both of them.”

Sunoo’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open in exaggerated horror as he clutched his cheeks protectively.

The whole room erupted in laughter, the sound bouncing off the walls and filling the morning with warmth.

For Ni-ki and Jungwon, moments like these were exactly why Sunoo was their favorite—someone they could tease, cling to, and adore without hesitation. For everyone else, it was easy to see it too.

And as for Jungwon, well… his thought process remained as much a mystery as ever, the edges of his smile giving nothing away.

When the laughter faded, he pouted faintly—though he didn’t even realize it—and asked, “Why didn’t anyone bother to wake me up?”

Jay stretched, glancing at Heeseung. “He did. But when he saw how peaceful you looked, he decided you could use a little more sleep.”

Sunghoon added dryly, “So he let you sleep for, what, three more hours?”

Sunoo’s eyes widened. “Three hours?!”

Jungwon chuckled, quick to defend. “It’s fine, hyung. You deserved it. Yesterday you looked like you were surviving on coffee alone.”

The words left Sunoo flustered enough, but then Heeseung spoke up, his tone calm and almost too genuine. “I meant it. You looked like you needed the rest.”

Something in Sunoo’s chest tightened. He ducked his head quickly, murmuring, “…thanks,” not trusting himself to say more.

Heeseung let it slide with a small smile before gesturing toward the hall. “Now go take a bath before breakfast. You’ll feel better.”

Sunoo hesitated, caught off guard by being ushered so directly, before nodding awkwardly and shuffling a little on his feet.

Jake grinned, leaning back against the couch. “Make it quick, Sunoo, so I can cuddle with you after.”

Ni-ki whipped around immediately. “He’s my hyung,” he shot back, hugging an imaginary Sunoo to his chest with a scowl.

Jake stuck his tongue out at him like a child, earning a round of laughter.

Jungwon crossed his arms and turned to Jay and Sunghoon, smug. “At least I’m more mature than them, right?”

Both Jay and Sunghoon answered in perfect unison: “No.”

The room erupted again, Jungwon’s smug grin cracking into reluctant laughter of his own.

Sunoo shook his head at the chaos, lips twitching despite himself. He padded toward the hallway, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll be quick,” he promised, disappearing toward the bathroom.

As the door clicked shut behind him, the others began shifting naturally into motion. Jay was already moving toward the kitchen, Sunghoon trailing behind to help. Jake flopped dramatically onto the couch, Ni-ki following to perch near his legs, still grumbling about his hyung. Heeseung lingered a moment, his gaze flicking briefly toward the closed bathroom door, before pushing himself up to join Jay at the counter.

___

With the bathroom door closed, the living room fell into a quieter buzz. Jay started pulling out bowls while Sunghoon measured rice into the cooker.

Jake sprawled dramatically on the couch, hands behind his head. “You know, Sunoo should be honored I wanted to cuddle him. I don’t offer that to just anyone.”

Ni-ki rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful. “Hyung, no one wants your sweaty cuddles.”

That got a loud laugh out of Sunghoon, who leaned back from the counter. “He’s got a point.”

“Unbelievable,” Jake muttered, grabbing a cushion and smacking Ni-ki lightly with it. Ni-ki cackled and smacked him back, which quickly turned into them bickering in half-serious shoves and laughter.

Jungwon shook his head at the scene, pretending to be above it all as he folded his arms. “Kids.”

Jay arched a brow at him without looking up. “You’re younger than Jake.”

Jungwon clicked his tongue, unconcerned. “Yeah, but I’m more responsible.”

Sunghoon snorted at that. “Right. Keep telling yourself that.”

Across the room, Heeseung leaned against the counter, mug in hand, watching the scene unfold with an amused shake of his head. “You guys are going to scare him back into bed at this rate,” he said, though there was no real bite in his tone.

Jay gave him a knowing look. “Pretty sure he’s used to it by now.”

The group dissolved into laughter again, the easy warmth filling the living room as the smell of rice began to spread through the apartment.

Ni-ki eventually plopped down on the rug again, breathless from laughing, and reached for the remote. “Fine, let’s watch something while we wait.”

Jake immediately protested. “No action movies. It’s too early in the morning.”

“Then what?” Ni-ki shot back.

“Comedy,” Jake said firmly, puffing out his chest like it was a matter of national importance.

“Hyung,” Ni-ki groaned, “you laugh at the dumbest jokes. It’s embarrassing.”

“Better than you crying over kids’ movies,” Jake countered, grinning wide.

Ni-ki threw a cushion at him, earning another burst of laughter from Sunghoon, who was busy rinsing vegetables.

Jungwon, unfazed, settled neatly at the low table. “Just let me pick. I have good taste.”

Jay raised a brow from the stove. “Good taste? You cried watching an ad once.”

Jungwon frowned, defensive. “It was emotional!”

That set everyone off again, the noise bouncing easily off the walls. Even Heeseung, quiet until then, chuckled into his mug, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe this was his group of friends.

___

When Sunoo padded back into the living room, dressed in fresh clothes and toweling off the ends of his damp hair, the others were already settled cross-legged around the low table. The food was all set, steam rising gently from the bowls.

Jake spotted him right away and patted the cushion beside him. “Here, sit next to me.”

Sunoo lowered himself onto the spot Jake saved, offering a quiet smile as Heeseung slid a pair of chopsticks his way.

“Let’s eat,” Jay softly.

The room filled with the clink of chopsticks against ceramic, the muted sound of chewing, and the occasional hum of appreciation when someone bit into something particularly good. Morning light filtered in through the blinds, cutting soft stripes across the table, and the quiet warmth of the meal wrapped around them like a blanket.

For Sunoo, it was enough just to sit there, listening to the low voices around him, the simple comfort of not eating alone.

___

Plates were emptied one by one, the table growing quieter as everyone leaned back, full and satisfied. The morning light had grown brighter, slanting across the floor where Ni-ki had already flopped onto his side, hand on his stomach.

“Amusement park!” Ni-ki shot up suddenly, the sparkle in his eyes betraying just how much energy he still had despite the late night. “Let’s go! It’s perfect weather today!”

The idea was met with a mix of reactions—Jake cheered, Jungwon grinned, Jay muttered something about rides making him dizzy, and Sunghoon only shrugged with a small smile.

Sunoo, however, froze. His chopsticks stilled against the edge of his bowl. He knew what the tickets cost. He knew he shouldn’t even be thinking about it.

The excitement around him buzzed on, but he stayed quiet, slipping into the background until everyone scattered to get ready. That was when a hand lightly caught his wrist.

“Hey,” Heeseung’s voice was low, careful. “What’s wrong?”

Sunoo hesitated. His lips pressed together before he finally sighed, eyes flicking away. “I… can’t afford it.” His voice was almost too soft to hear. “I’ll just stay back. Rest a little. I’m still sleepy anyway.” The excuse fell flat even to his own ears.

Heeseung’s brow furrowed. “That’s nonsense.” His tone was firm, but gentle. “You’re coming with us.”

“Heeseung—”

“I’ll pay for you.”

Sunoo’s head snapped up. “No way. I already owe you too much.”

“Then pay me back,” Heeseung said simply, a small grin tugging at his mouth. “Bit by bit, if it makes you feel better. Or not at all—it’s really not that much. Don’t overthink it.”

Sunoo’s chest tightened, torn between refusal and the warmth curling at the edges of his heart. He wanted to argue, but Heeseung’s steady gaze made it hard.

“…Fine,” he muttered, still reluctant. “But I will pay you back.”

Heeseung’s grin softened into something fond. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Sunoo huffed, but he couldn’t hide the way his ears burned as he slipped past Heeseung, finally heading to change with the others.

___

Back in the guest room, Sunoo tugged his bag closer, pulling out a sweater and jeans. Ni-ki was already half-dressed, humming some random tune, while Jungwon sat cross-legged on the floor scrolling on his phone. They chatted easily between themselves, but Sunoo moved slower, folding and refolding the sweater in his hands before finally slipping it over his head.

Even as he dressed, his thoughts wouldn’t quiet. The offer, so casual on Heeseung’s lips, still rang in his ears. I’ll pay for you.

It made his chest ache in a way he didn’t know how to name. He wasn’t used to this—to someone noticing, to someone stepping in before he could even put up a proper wall. Part of him wanted to smile, to let himself lean into that warmth. Another part wanted to push it away, afraid of needing it too much.

He tugged his scarf tighter around his neck, shaking off the thought before the others noticed the way his face lingered pink.

“Ready?” Jungwon asked, glancing up.

Sunoo forced a small smile. “Yeah.”

But as he followed them out, his fingers brushed the fabric of his scarf, holding on like it might anchor him.

When Sunoo and Jungwon stepped out of the guest room, both of them already bundled in sweaters and coats, the apartment felt unusually still. Ni-ki had darted into the bathroom earlier with a comb and hair gel, declaring he needed to “look good for the rides,” and his faint humming carried through the closed door.

The living room was half ready—jackets tossed across the couch, scarves and gloves in a messy pile by the door. Sunoo hovered near the edge of the couch, lowering himself onto the armrest while Jungwon stretched and sank into the cushions.

For a moment, it was just the two of them in the quiet.

“Feels weird when it’s not noisy,” Jungwon said, leaning his head back, his eyes half-closed.

Sunoo let out a soft hum of agreement, fingers fiddling with the edge of his scarf. His thoughts were still tangled around Heeseung’s words from earlier, though he didn’t say anything.

From the kitchen, the muffled clink of dishes and a low voice drifted in—probably Jay making sure Sunghoon packed the water bottles.

Jungwon peeked at Sunoo from the corner of his eye. “You excited?”

Sunoo blinked, pulled from his thoughts. “Huh?”

“The amusement park,” Jungwon clarified, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “You don’t look excited.”

Sunoo hesitated before answering, lips curving into a faint, polite smile. “I am. Just… tired, I guess.”

Jungwon didn’t push. He just hummed and let the quiet settle again, until the bathroom door swung open and Ni-ki strutted out, hair perfectly in place.

“What do you think?” Ni-ki asked, posing dramatically.

Sunoo chuckled softly despite himself, shaking his head. Jungwon only snorted.

By the time everyone regrouped, the apartment was buzzing again. Jay and Sunghoon emerged from the kitchen with a small tote packed neatly with water bottles and snacks, Ni-ki bouncing impatiently by the door with his shoes already on, and Jake grumbling about the cold. Heeseung was the last to appear, scarf draped casually around his neck as he clapped his hands once.

“Alright,” he said, voice carrying easily over their chatter. “Let’s go.”

Shoes were slipped on, jackets pulled tighter, and in a flurry of laughter and shoves, they filed out together into the crisp winter morning.

____

The train car rattled softly as it cut through the city, the glass windows fogging faintly with each breath of winter air that slipped inside. They’d claimed an entire row of seats, Ni-ki pressed against the window with his face nearly glued to the glass, Jake beside him grumbling every time Ni-ki leaned too far into his space.

“Sit properly,” Jake muttered, tugging at Ni-ki’s sleeve.

“I am sitting properly,” Ni-ki shot back, not moving an inch.

“Sure you are,” Sunghoon said dryly, earning a laugh from Jay across the aisle.

Jungwon had his earbuds in but wasn’t listening to anything, only pretending while he scrolled idly through his phone, occasionally glancing up at the others with a small smile tugging at his lips.

Sunoo had ended up near the end of the row, sitting between Heeseung and Jungwon. He kept his gaze trained on the blur of buildings outside the opposite window, trying to tune out the chatter and the rhythmic clack of the tracks.

“First time going?” Heeseung’s voice was low, meant just for him.

Sunoo blinked, caught off guard, then nodded after a moment. “Yeah.” His hands tightened faintly on his scarf. “…You?”

Heeseung grinned. “Not the first. But it’s been a while.”

Sunoo hummed in response, his chest tightening with something he couldn’t quite name.

Heeseung didn’t press, letting the quiet stretch comfortably between them. But Sunoo’s eyes flicked sideways once, lingering just long enough to catch the faint curve of Heeseung’s smile before darting away again.

Across the row, Ni-ki suddenly turned, voice far too loud for the quiet car. “Hyung, we have to go on the biggest roller coaster first!”

Jake groaned into his hands. “Why did I come?”

Laughter rippled down the row, pulling Sunoo out of his thoughts and into the noise of his friends again.

___

The gates clicked behind them as they stepped into the park, greeted by a flood of color and sound. Music floated through the speakers overhead, rides whirred and rattled in the distance, and the air was buzzing with the chatter of excited families and groups of friends.

“Souvenir shop first!” Jake declared, pointing at the bright little building lined with glass windows just off the main path. “We have to get the headbands.”

Ni-ki gasped dramatically as though Jake had read his mind. “The animal ones!” Without waiting, he bolted toward the shop, nearly colliding with a passing couple.

“Yah, slow down,” Jungwon called after him, though he was already grinning.

Inside, the shop was a riot of plush toys, shiny trinkets, and rows of ridiculous headbands — bunny ears, tiger stripes, sparkling crowns, even oversized food-shaped ones.

Ni-ki grabbed a pair of giraffe ears and shoved them on his head before turning to Sunoo with a mischievous grin.

“Hyung, this one suits you!” He plopped a pair of pink bunny ears onto Sunoo’s head before Sunoo could protest.

Sunoo blinked, lips parting in mild horror. “What—” He reached up to take them off, but Jungwon clapped his hands together, eyes shining.

“Perfect. Don’t move. You look adorable.”

Jake snorted from where he was trying on devil horns in the mirror. “That’s an understatement. He looks like he belongs on a poster.”

Heat pricked at Sunoo’s ears as the others chimed in with laughter and teasing. Heeseung, lingering by the display, picked up a headband with floppy dog ears. He turned it in his hands, expression unreadable for a moment, before slipping it onto his own head and glancing at Sunoo with a lopsided grin.

“Now we match.”

Sunoo froze, hand hovering near the bunny ears. For a second, the noise of the shop dulled around him. Then Ni-ki burst out laughing and clapped his hands, breaking the moment.

“Wait, wait, don’t move!” Jay suddenly said, already fishing his phone out of his pocket. He stepped back like a proud parent lining up his children. “Everyone, put on something. I’m documenting this.”

Groans and protests rose immediately.

“Hyung, nooo,” Jungwon whined, but he was already reaching for a cat-ear headband anyway.

“This is embarrassing,” Sunghoon muttered as he adjusted a shark fin on his head.

But Jay only grinned, phone poised. “Smile for your mother. Or don’t. Candid’s fine too.”

The shutter clicked again and again as Jake threw an arm around Ni-ki, Jungwon tried to block the camera with his hand, and Sunoo ducked his head with his cheeks flushed pink.

Jay glanced at his screen, satisfied. “Perfect. Frame-worthy.”

The shop had erupted into playful chaos. Ni-ki was hopping around with a pair of giraffe ears perched crookedly on his head, and Jay had his phone raised, snapping picture after picture of Ni-ki’s antics with a grin.

Sunoo’s pink bunny ears had gone slightly askew, and he kept tugging at them, cheeks burning from the laughter all around. Heeseung had slipped on a small deer headband, tilting his head at Sunoo with a faint grin, while Sunoo’s eyes kept darting to him before quickly looking away, heart thumping.

Sunghoon was standing awkwardly in front of the mirror, holding a penguin headband. “Do I look ridiculous?” he asked quietly.

Jungwon leaned over, a faint smile tugging at his lips, and placed the headband firmly on Sunghoon’s head. “You’re a penguin. Ice. Ice skating. Fits perfectly.”

Sunghoon blinked, the corners of his mouth twitching into the slightest smile.

After several minutes of hopping, laughter, and fidgeting, everyone finally settled on their choices. Ni-ki plopped a duck headband firmly on his head, grinning like he’d won a battle. Jake kept the dog ears he had tried on earlier, looking slightly sheepish but pleased. Sunghoon stayed with the penguin headband Jungwon had given him. 

Jay sported black cat ears that tilted slightly to one side as he glanced at the others. Jungwon chose orange cat ears, pretending to be unimpressed but clearly enjoying the fun. Sunoo finally settled on a fox headband, still fidgeting slightly with the ears and casting shy glances at Heeseung, who kept his small deer headband, the faint grin on his face never fading.

Jay clicked a few final pictures, capturing Ni-ki’s last hop, and muttered with satisfaction, “Perfect. Everyone looks ridiculous. Everyone looks amazing.”

Sunoo ducked his head, flustered, as Ni-ki laughed behind him and Jake nudged him playfully. Heeseung’s faint grin caught his eye again, and he quickly looked away, ears heating up.

___

The group spilled out of the souvenir shop, the winter sunlight catching the glint of their headbands. Laughter and chatter bubbled around them as they scanned the park.

“Bumper cars first!” Ni-ki shouted, already tugging Jake toward the ride. “We have to start with something easy before the scary ones!”

Jake groaned but trailed behind, muttering about how he wasn’t going to lose to Ni-ki in the first ride of the day. Sunghoon walked beside Sunoo, while Heeseung stayed near Sunoo, offering the occasional joke but mostly letting him move at his own pace.

Once they arrived at the bumper car arena, the smell of rubber and the hum of electricity hit them. Ni-ki immediately jumped onto a car, bouncing in excitement, while Jake reluctantly slid into the car next to him.

“Ready to lose?” Ni-ki shot him a mischievous grin.

“We’ll see,” Jake muttered, but his smirk betrayed him.

Meanwhile, Jungwon and Jay shared a car, with Jungwon at the wheel and Jay leaning slightly to the side, adjusting his seat to avoid brushing too much against him. The close quarters made every small movement — a brushing elbow, a shift in weight — feel more noticeable than usual.

They weaved skillfully through the arena, bumping lightly into other cars just enough to startle someone or send a squeal of laughter.

“Hey, careful!” Jay said with mock exasperation as Jungwon nudged another car.

“Relax, I’ve got this,” Jungwon replied, smirking without looking at him, fingers gripping the wheel.

Each time their elbows brushed or Jay leaned closer to duck a nudge, there was a brief, unspoken tension, a quiet electricity that neither addressed but both noticed. Their car felt like its own little orbit amidst the chaos, half-competitive, half-playful, entirely charged in a different way.

Sunoo hesitated a moment before climbing into a car next to Heeseung.

“You sure you don’t want me in your car?” Heeseung asked, playful but not pressing.

“I’m fine,” Sunoo replied quickly, though his hands fidgeted with the steering wheel.

The ride started with a sudden jolt, and the arena filled with squeals, laughter, and the electric hum of cars bumping into each other. Ni-ki zoomed straight for Jake, who groaned and swerved just in time, while Sunoo tried to navigate cautiously, stealing glances at Heeseung every time their cars passed each other.

“You’re too careful,” Heeseung teased lightly as their cars collided with a soft thud.

“I’m… just warming up,” Sunoo mumbled, cheeks heating beneath his fox ears.

By the time the ride ended, everyone was laughing, hair and headbands slightly askew, cheeks flushed from both the cold and the thrill. Sunoo, fox ears tilted, wiped a hand across his forehead, feeling lighter than before.

_

After the bumper cars, laughter still ringing in their ears, the group headed toward the Ferris wheel. The winter sunlight glinted off their headbands, and Ni-ki bounced in excitement.

Since the gondolas were small, they naturally split up, taking the seats that faced each other. Ni-ki and Jake sat across from Sunghoon, Ni-ki leaning forward eagerly while Jake tried to look unimpressed but kept smiling at his brother’s antics. Sunghoon just shook his head, quietly amused, adjusting his penguin headband.

In the next gondola, Jay and Jungwon faced each other, sitting close enough that their shoulders occasionally brushed. Jay smirked, teasing lightly, “Careful where you lean—you might knock me over.”

Jungwon grinned, leaning slightly toward him. “Or what? You’ll retaliate?”

Jay let out a small laugh, tilting his head as he caught Jungwon’s gaze. “Maybe. Depends if you deserve it.”

Their playful banter continued in soft whispers, each teasing the other with subtle smiles, quick glances, and small gestures—a hand brushing a knee when shifting, a gentle nudge of the elbow. It was innocent, light, but the tiny sparks between them were unmistakable. Neither admitted to the fluttering feeling in their chest, but it was there—warm, quiet, persistent.

Across another small space, Sunoo and Heeseung sat opposite each other. Sunoo fidgeted with the fox ears, hands gripping the straps of his coat. He stole quiet glances at Heeseung, who noticed but didn’t comment, letting Sunoo’s attention linger for a moment before offering a small, gentle smile.

The ride began its slow ascent, and the park stretched out beneath them. Ni-ki waved at everything in sight, squealing with excitement, while Jake groaned but laughed quietly at his brother’s energy. Sunghoon leaned back, watching them with a fond smile.

Sunoo felt his cheeks warm every time Heeseung’s eyes met his. When Heeseung nudged him slightly to look out at the park, Sunoo obeyed, trying to focus on the view, though his heart still skipped a beat.

The winter air was crisp, the laughter light, and each pair—Ni-ki and Jake with Sunghoon, Jay and Jungwon, Sunoo and Heeseung—found a rhythm of teasing, quiet conversation, and soft smiles as the Ferris wheel carried them higher.

Sunoo and Heeseung settled into a Ferris wheel gondola, sitting opposite each other. The small space made the winter air feel warmer, and Sunoo fidgeted with his fox ears, hands gripping the straps of his coat.

As the gondola began its slow ascent, Sunoo’s stomach flipped. His eyes darted to the ground far below, and he realized just how high they were. A faint tension settled in his shoulders.

“You… okay?” Heeseung asked, voice calm but curious.

“I-I’m fine,” Sunoo replied quickly, though his hands tightened on the straps. “Just… not used to heights.”

Heeseung’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “It’s okay. You don’t have to like it, you know. I’ve got you.”

Sunoo blinked, caught off guard. His cheeks warmed, and he looked away, trying to focus on the view instead of the fluttering in his chest.

“You seem tense,” Heeseung added, leaning slightly forward across the small table between them. “No need to overthink it.”

“I’m not… overthinking,” Sunoo mumbled, though his voice wavered faintly. He stole a few glances at Heeseung, noticing the calm reassurance in his eyes, and it made his heartbeat quicken.

When the gondola swayed slightly at the top, Sunoo gripped the edge of his seat a little too tightly. Heeseung reached out subtly, placing a hand near his without touching directly, a silent anchor. Sunoo’s eyes widened, and he quickly looked down, but the warmth of Heeseung’s presence lingered.

“You’ll get used to it,” Heeseung said softly, though he didn’t push. “Even if you don’t, that’s okay.”

Sunoo nodded slowly, letting out a quiet exhale. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right.” His lips curved faintly in a small smile, and he stole one last glance at Heeseung before looking back over the park, feeling steadier than he had a moment ago.

The Ferris wheel carried them higher, the crisp winter air outside, but inside the small gondola, it felt like a world of their own—quiet, warm, and just slightly charged with something neither of them fully understood yet.

The Ferris wheel slowed to a stop, the gondola doors clicking open. Sunoo stepped out first, smoothing down his coat, though his fox ears wobbled slightly as he adjusted them.

“You did okay,” Heeseung murmured as they walked side by side down the platform. “Didn’t look like you were about to jump off.”

“I was fine,” Sunoo said quickly, a little too defensive. He hesitated, then added, softer, “Mostly.”

Heeseung chuckled, a quiet sound that made the air between them feel warmer. “Mostly’s good enough. You faced it.”

Sunoo bit the inside of his cheek, then looked up at him, a shy smile slipping through. “Thanks… for being there.”

“Of course,” Heeseung replied easily, glancing down at him with a grin. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Sunoo looked away immediately, his chest tight. He certainly knew what he was feeling—that faint ache in his stomach, that warmth that spread whenever Heeseung smiled at him—but he was afraid to give it a name. Naming it meant acknowledging it, and acknowledging it meant risking what they had now. That fear alone was enough to keep him quiet.

Heeseung nudged his shoulder lightly when Sunoo lagged behind, playful but gentle. Sunoo startled at the touch, then laughed softly, a little breathless.

Ahead, Ni-ki and Jake were already running toward a roller coaster, their voices carrying over the crowd. Sunghoon shook his head at them, adjusting his penguin headband, while Jay and Jungwon trailed a few steps behind, caught in their usual back-and-forth banter.

Heeseung looked at Sunoo again. “Ready for the next one?”

Sunoo nodded, forcing his lips into a small smile. “Yeah… let’s go.”

And they did, walking together into the cold winter air. The noise of the park surrounded them, but Sunoo’s mind was still caught on the words he didn’t dare say, the feelings he didn’t dare name—afraid of what it would mean if he did.

They followed the path until Ni-ki and Jake came into view, already bouncing excitedly near the roller coaster entrance.

“Hyung! Let’s ride this one next!” Ni-ki waved them over, grinning wide. Jake was practically vibrating with anticipation beside him.

Sunghoon caught up a moment later, shaking his head. “You two are out of your minds. It’s freezing, and you still want to get your faces whipped off in the wind?”

“That’s the fun part!” Jake countered, tugging on Ni-ki’s sleeve to hurry into the line.

Jay and Jungwon arrived behind them, Jay sighing like an exasperated parent. “Fine, but if one of you throws up, don’t even think about aiming my way.”

While the others bickered, Sunoo’s gaze lingered on the towering steel tracks, his fingers tightening around the strap of his bag. His stomach twisted just looking at it. He leaned slightly toward Heeseung and whispered, “I… don’t think I can handle that one.”

Heeseung glanced down at him, taking in the nervous crease of his brows. “Then we don’t.”

“But—” Sunoo hesitated, guilt flickering across his face. “I don’t want to ruin it for the others.”

“You’re not,” Heeseung said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “They can ride it. We’ll find something else and meet after.”

Sunoo blinked at him, then gave a tiny nod, relief loosening his chest.

When the group noticed them lingering back, Heeseung called out, “We’ll sit this one out. You guys go ahead.”

Ni-ki groaned dramatically. “Hyuuung, you’re no fun!”

“Think of it as me saving you from waiting in line even longer,” Heeseung shot back, smirking.

That seemed to satisfy them—well, mostly. Ni-ki still muttered something about “weak hyungs” as Jake dragged him into the queue, and the rest followed.

Left behind in the quieter part of the park, Heeseung looked down at Sunoo again. “So,” he said lightly, “what do you want to do instead? Something calmer?”

Sunoo smiled faintly, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Yeah… calmer sounds good.”

___

As the others disappeared into the roller coaster line, the noise of the crowd swallowed their laughter and shouts. Left in the relative quiet, Sunoo let out a soft breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

Heeseung’s eyes followed him, noticing how his shoulders finally eased. He tipped his head toward the left path. “Come on. I think I saw something more our pace.”

Curious, Sunoo trailed after him until they rounded a corner and the pastel-colored teacups came into view, spinning slowly under strings of bright bulbs. The air was laced with the faint scent of cotton candy and buttered popcorn from nearby stalls.

Sunoo blinked. “The teacups?”

Heeseung grinned, his hands sliding into his coat pockets. “What? Too childish for you?”

“No,” Sunoo said quickly, maybe too quickly. His lips curved despite himself. “I just didn’t think you’d be the type.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Heeseung replied easily, stepping into the short queue.

The ride wasn’t crowded, so soon they were slipping into a blue teacup. Sunoo smoothed his coat over his lap, still chuckling faintly at the whole situation.

As the ride started, Heeseung leaned forward, placing his hands on the central wheel. “You wanna spin it fast?”

Sunoo’s eyes widened. “No! If you spin it too much, I’ll—” He cut himself off, puffing his cheeks a little without meaning to.

Heeseung’s laughter rang out, warm and unbothered. “Alright, alright, no fast spinning. Just a gentle turn.” He gave the wheel a small push, enough for the teacup to twirl lazily.

The world blurred softly around them, the colors of the park bleeding together in streaks of light. Sunoo found himself watching Heeseung instead, the way the cold air had turned the tip of his nose pink, the easy smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re staring,” Heeseung teased without looking up.

Sunoo’s head snapped away, his ears instantly warm. “I—I was not!”

“Sure,” Heeseung said, spinning the wheel again just slightly, enough to make the teacup sway and Sunoo clutch the side for balance.

Sunoo shot him a glare, though it lacked any real heat. “You promised gentle!”

“I am being gentle.” Heeseung’s grin widened. “That was barely a nudge.”

Despite himself, Sunoo laughed, the sound carried away with the chill breeze as the teacup spun lazily on.

The ride slowed to a stop, the cheerful music fading with it. Sunoo stood carefully, smoothing down his clothes as if they could ground him from the lingering dizziness.

Heeseung hopped out first and offered his hand with an exaggerated flourish. “Your highness.”

Sunoo rolled his eyes, but his lips betrayed him, tugging into a small smile. Still, he slipped his hand into Heeseung’s and let himself be pulled out of the teacup.

The moment their feet hit the ground, Heeseung leaned in with a low chuckle. “You really do pout without realizing it, you know.”

Sunoo froze, his hand still half in Heeseung’s before he quickly let go. “I don’t pout.”

“Mm,” Heeseung hummed like he didn’t believe him at all. “You were pouting the whole ride. Adorable, honestly.”

Sunoo’s cheeks flamed, and he turned away, suddenly finding the cotton candy stand across the path very interesting. “You’re insufferable.”

Heeseung only grinned wider, clearly entertained by the reaction. He slowed his steps to match Sunoo’s as they walked away from the ride, the chatter of the crowd rising around them again.

“Fine,” Sunoo muttered after a beat, the words coming out quieter than he intended. “Maybe I do pout sometimes. But you don’t have to point it out.”

Heeseung tilted his head, softening. “I wasn’t making fun of you.”

Sunoo blinked at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.

“I just… like noticing things about you,” Heeseung added casually, though the warmth in his tone betrayed him.

For a moment, Sunoo forgot how to breathe properly. His fingers curled into the fabric of his sleeves, and he quickly looked ahead, hoping the cool air would calm the heat in his face.

Heeseung didn’t push further, just walked beside him with that same easy presence that was somehow harder to ignore than silence.

___

They wandered aimlessly after leaving the teacup ride, neither of them in a rush to find the others just yet. The winter chill nipped at Sunoo’s cheeks, but it wasn’t unpleasant—especially with the warm hum of the amusement park all around them: children laughing, vendors calling out, the occasional shriek from a ride in the distance.

They slowed in front of a food stall, the savory scent of grilled sausages and toasted buns wafting through the air.

“Hot dogs?” Heeseung asked, glancing at Sunoo. His smile was light, but his tone carried that same ease he always had with him—as if it were natural to ask, natural to linger.

Sunoo’s stomach gave a quiet growl he hoped wasn’t too obvious. He pressed a hand to it and muttered, “Maybe just one.”

That earned him a soft chuckle. “You’re easier to persuade than I thought.”

They ordered, and while the vendor prepared their food, the two stood shoulder to shoulder, their breaths fogging faintly in the cold air. Sunoo found himself sneaking glances at Heeseung again, his profile lit by the glow of the stall’s lamps, the faintest trace of tiredness in his eyes softened by a quiet smile.

It felt too easy—dangerously easy—to fall into moments like this.

The hot dogs were ready, and they each took one, sitting down at a nearby bench. Sunoo fiddled with his napkin before clearing his throat. “We should text the others. Tell them to meet us here.”

Heeseung blinked at him, then gave a small nod. “Yeah… right.” He pulled out his phone, thumbs moving over the screen.

Sunoo chewed a bite of his hot dog, pretending not to notice the way Heeseung’s smile dimmed just slightly, quickly replaced with his usual calm expression.

“Sent,” Heeseung said, slipping the phone back into his pocket. He leaned back, looking out at the park lights. “They’ll be here soon.”

Sunoo hummed in reply, focusing on his food, though part of him felt that same faint pang in his chest—a mix of relief and something heavier—that their time together would soon be cut short.

They ate in silence for a while, the kind that wasn’t awkward but carried an almost unbearable weight. The kind where Sunoo was far too aware of the space between them—and how small that space actually was.

Heeseung wiped his hands on a napkin and glanced at him. “You’ve got something—” He gestured faintly near his own lips.

Sunoo froze. “H-huh?”

Before he could react, Heeseung leaned closer, his hand lifting slightly as if he might brush it away for him. Sunoo’s breath caught, his shoulders stiffening. At the last second, Heeseung only chuckled and pointed instead. “Right there. On the corner.”

Flustered, Sunoo quickly swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes darting anywhere but Heeseung. “Y-you could’ve just said that from the start.”

“I did,” Heeseung teased, voice soft. His eyes lingered a second longer than necessary, and that was enough to send Sunoo’s heart stumbling.

Sunoo looked down at his half-eaten hot dog, ears burning. What is he even doing to me?

And then, mercifully, Ni-ki’s voice rang out from a distance. “Hyuuungs!”

Sunoo nearly jumped at the sound, relief washing over him as the others came jogging up, chattering about the rides they’d just finished. He quickly busied himself with his food again, grateful for the distraction.

Heeseung only leaned back against the bench, calm as ever, though there was the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

They all settled around one of the picnic tables near the food stalls, their headbands standing out among the crowd like little flags of their own world. The laughter from passing families mixed with the lingering echo of the roller coaster’s screams, but here, their group felt like its own bubble.

Ni-ki stretched dramatically. “Alright, hyungs, we’ll get food for you. Don’t move.” He jabbed a finger at Jay, Jungwon, and Sunghoon before tugging Jake along. “C’mon, Jake-hyung.”

Jake waved half-heartedly at the table, still pale but smiling as Ni-ki dragged him away.

Sunoo sat back down beside Heeseung, watching them leave. The table felt instantly quieter. Sunghoon had his arms folded on the surface, his cheek pressed against them as he stared blankly at nothing. His penguin headband drooped slightly, making him look both pitiful and endearing. No one bothered him—Sunghoon zoning out wasn’t unusual, and considering he’d gone on the roller coaster despite his fear of heights, they figured he deserved the silence.

Jay, on the other hand, was far from silent. He was still muttering about how the roller coaster had been way too extreme. “I swear if I didn’t hold onto the handle, my soul would’ve flown off first. And for what? For Ni-ki’s ‘it’ll be fun!’ speech?” He shook his head, incredulous.

Jungwon, clearly amused, cut in before Jay could rant further. “It was fun though! The drop was amazing—I could feel my stomach flying.” His eyes lit up as he leaned toward Sunoo, his words tumbling out quickly. “The wind, the speed—it was the best! Hyung, didn’t you see how fast it went?”

Sunoo blinked at him, lips curving despite himself. Jungwon was usually level-headed, often the one keeping Ni-ki in check, but in moments like this, he acted every bit his age—excited, unfiltered, and endlessly endearing. Sunoo found himself staring a moment too long before catching it and looking down at his hands.

“Adorable,” he muttered under his breath, not realizing the word had slipped out until Heeseung chuckled softly beside him.

Heat crept up Sunoo’s neck, and he quickly busied himself with tugging at the hem of his sleeve. Jungwon, too caught up in his retelling, didn’t notice, but Heeseung’s quiet grin lingered.

Jay was still waving his hands around as if the roller coaster could hear him from across the park. “No, seriously—you didn’t see it, Sunoo. I swear the harness was loose. Loose. I could’ve flown off. That would’ve been the end of me. Headlines tomorrow: Local teen tragically yeeted off roller coaster.”

Jungwon smirked and leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying himself. “If you actually flew off, you wouldn’t have had time to make a headline.”

“Not funny.” Jay glared at him, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “You were clinging to me the whole time too.”

“I was not!” Jungwon shot back, sitting up straighter, ears already turning pink.

“You were,” Jay said smugly. “I have the nail marks to prove it.”

Sunoo pressed his lips together to hide a laugh, the scene in front of him almost too entertaining. Jungwon looked like he wanted to crawl under the table, while Jay sat there basking in the victory.

Heeseung, who had been stirring his straw in his drink without really drinking it, finally chuckled. “You two sound like an old married couple.”

Both Jungwon and Jay snapped their heads toward him at the same time, blurting out, “We’re not!” Their voices overlapped, making Sunoo break into quiet laughter.

Even Sunghoon, still pale and zoning out, let out a faint snort before dropping his head onto his folded arms on the table again.

Sunoo’s gaze lingered on the group, warmth swelling in his chest at how natural it all felt—like pieces clicking into place, everyone with their quirks, their banter, their rhythm.

Across the table, Heeseung’s eyes flicked up, and for a brief moment, he and Sunoo locked eyes. Heeseung smiled softly, as if he could read exactly what Sunoo was thinking. Sunoo looked away quickly, ears warming, pretending to adjust his sleeve.

“You’re smiling,” Heeseung murmured, his voice low enough that it didn’t disturb Jay and Jungwon’s bickering.

Sunoo blinked, startled, and raised his hand to his cheek like he could catch the expression in time. “Am I?” he asked, a little too quickly.

Heeseung’s grin deepened, his chin propped lazily on his palm. “Yeah. It suits you.”

The words settled heavier than Sunoo expected, his heart skipping before he scrambled for a response. He cleared his throat, leaning slightly forward. “Look at Jay and Jungwon,” he said quickly, pointing at the way Jungwon tugged insistently at Jay’s sleeve. “If they keep that up, they’ll get us kicked out for being too noisy.”

Heeseung huffed a quiet laugh, clearly amused by Sunoo’s attempt to redirect, but let it slide, eyes still carrying that knowing glint.

Sunoo’s words barely had time to settle before Jungwon tugged again, earning a yelp from Jay that made Sunoo’s prediction sound almost too accurate. Heeseung chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.

Just then, Ni-ki and Jake returned, balancing trays in their arms. Ni-ki’s grin was wide as he dropped his load onto the table. “Delivery service at your command.”

Jake rolled his eyes but set his tray down neatly. “Don’t act like you did everything. I got the tteokbokki and fishcake for all of us.”

Ni-ki, unfazed, immediately tore into a bag. “Yeah, but I got the bungeoppang.”

“You already had bungeoppang,” Jay muttered, but his scolding trailed off when Jake shoved a paper boat into his hands. “Waffles?”

Jake grinned. “Your favorite.”

Jay’s annoyance melted in an instant, though he covered it with a grumble as he tore off a piece.

Meanwhile, Jungwon’s eyes lit up when Ni-ki slid a long paper sleeve across the table. “Churros!” he said, almost bouncing in his seat.

“For the baby,” Ni-ki teased.

Sunghoon reached for his share without waiting—chicken skewers, still steaming. He barely mumbled a thanks before biting into one, and Jake smirked. “Knew the protein monster would appreciate that.”

Sunghoon didn’t even argue, just kept eating.

Sunoo, still quiet, watched the exchange until Jake nudged the tray of tteokbokki toward the center. “Dig in, Sunoo-yah.”

Their eyes met briefly across the table, and before Sunoo could react, Ni-ki leaned over with his bungeoppang, sing-songing, “Hyung, do you want a bite?”

Sunoo blinked at the bungeoppang suddenly held in front of his face. Ni-ki’s grin stretched ear to ear, his eyes narrowing mischievously.

“I got it for myself,” Ni-ki said, though the way he hovered it closer suggested otherwise. “But I can share. Just a bite.”

Sunoo shook his head, lips tugging faintly. “Eat it yourself. You’ll cry if I actually take it.”

“I won’t,” Ni-ki argued, though he hugged the pastry back protectively a beat later, making everyone laugh.

Jungwon, already dusted with sugar from his churro, leaned forward with his mouth full. “He totally would.”

Jay wrinkled his nose. “Chew before you talk, will you? You’re spitting sugar everywhere.”

Jungwon stuck his tongue out, but obediently finished his bite before answering, “Still true, though.”

Ni-ki gave his churros a longing look, then glanced at his own half-eaten bungeoppang and sighed dramatically. “Fine. Hyung gets one bite.”

Sunoo raised his brows. “Didn’t I just say no?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ni-ki chirped, already breaking off a piece and dropping it onto Sunoo’s napkin like it was settled.

Sunoo looked at the small portion, then at Ni-ki’s smug face. “…You’re impossible.” But he picked it up anyway, nibbling at it with a quiet laugh.

Across the table, Heeseung hid a smile behind his cup, watching the interaction with something softer in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Jay broke off a corner of his waffle, pushing it toward Jungwon. “Want a piece before I finish it?”

Jungwon’s brows rose, caught off guard, but he accepted it wordlessly—his grin, however, gave him away.

Sunghoon, still half out of it, just reached across for the tteokbokki without waiting for anyone to offer, earning another round of laughter.

___

The rest of the day slipped by in bursts of laughter, dizzying rides, and shared snacks. Their voices carried over the crowd — Sunoo’s bright laugh when Ni-ki tried to drag him into a game booth, Jake’s loud cheer when he finally won a prize, Jungwon’s excited rambling after every ride, Jay’s endless complaints that only ever earned teasing grins, and Sunghoon’s quiet but content smile. By the time the sky turned dusky, painted with streaks of orange and purple, the group was exhausted but glowing, lingering with that lingering sweetness only days like these could leave behind.

When they returned home, shoes kicked off at the door and jackets tossed carelessly over the couch, the living room filled with the sound of tired sighs and low chatter. They sprawled out lazily — Jay and Jungwon sharing a blanket on the floor, Ni-ki resting his head on Jake’s shoulder, Sunghoon lying on the rug with his arms stretched out like he’d run a marathon. It was the picture of satisfied exhaustion.

Meanwhile, at the counter, Sunoo sat with his mug of steaming tea, phone in one hand, thumb scrolling slowly. His brows pinched together, lips set in a thin line as the spoon in his cup clinked against the ceramic without rhythm.

“Why the frown?” Heeseung’s voice was soft but grounding as he slid into the seat next to him.

Sunoo hesitated, lowering his phone before letting out a sigh. “The boss just texted. He’s… extending the leave again. Until the shop opens.” His tone dropped with each word. “He said it’s his fault too, so he’s giving us all paid leave. But—” He stirred his tea, not meeting Heeseung’s eyes. “I can’t help it. What if this drags on too long? What if I lose my job because of this?”

Heeseung studied him for a beat, then leaned his elbow on the counter, tilting his head slightly. “You won’t. Things like this happen sometimes, Sunoo. It’s out of your control — and your boss already admitted it was on him. You’re not the one at fault.” His tone was steady, meant to anchor, even as he caught the restless flicker in Sunoo’s eyes.

“And the noodle shop too,” Sunoo added quietly. “They’re closed since the family went on vacation. It’s like… suddenly everything’s paused. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“Then maybe take it as a sign,” Heeseung offered gently. “You’ve been running nonstop. Maybe you could use the break.” At Sunoo’s skeptical look, he smiled. “Stay here a bit longer. A night or two. You’re off work anyway, right?”

Sunoo blinked, caught off guard. He turned the idea over in his mind, the frown on his face softening just a little. “I guess… But I’d have to go home first. Get more clothes.”

“Then we’ll go together tomorrow,” Heeseung said simply, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

After a quiet beat, Sunoo finally nodded. “Alright. Just a few more nights.”

Later that evening, when it was time for the others to leave, Jungwon clung to Sunoo with an exaggerated pout, arms wound tight around him. “This is so unfair. Heeseung-hyung gets to hog you while we don’t.”

Ni-ki immediately chimed in, tugging at Sunoo’s sleeve. “Yeah! He’s my hyung too!”

Jake crossed his arms, sticking his lower lip out dramatically. “Exactly. Why does he get extra time?”

The three of them sulked in unison, their chorus of protests filling the room, while Sunghoon and Jay only sat back laughing at the ridiculous display.

Heeseung didn’t say anything — only shook his head with a faint grin, watching Sunoo laugh helplessly in the middle of it all.

The door clicked shut, and the echoes of laughter faded with the night air, leaving the house in a hush that felt heavier than it should have. Sunoo set his empty mug on the counter, fingers absently turning it in small circles though there was nothing left inside.

Heeseung hadn’t moved far, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, watching Sunoo with that unreadable calm of his. It made Sunoo’s skin prickle, not in discomfort, but in something far too sharp and unfamiliar.

Without the others’ noise to hide behind, the silence between them suddenly felt louder. Sunoo found himself far too aware — of the faint sound of Heeseung’s breathing beside him, of the space that wasn’t really space at all, of the way his own pulse seemed embarrassingly loud in his ears. He shifted on his stool, trying to ignore the warmth crawling up his neck.

Heeseung broke the quiet first. “You’ve been frowning all night.” His tone was easy, not accusing, just noticing.

Sunoo forced a small smile. “Habit, I guess.” His voice came out softer than intended.

“You should get some rest,” Heeseung said, tilting his head slightly. “It was a long day.”

“Yeah,” Sunoo murmured, staring at the empty cup in his hands. He wasn’t sure why it suddenly felt like the safest thing to look at. “Guess I’ll head to bed soon.”

But he didn’t move, not yet. Neither did Heeseung.

For a fleeting moment, their eyes met — and Sunoo’s chest tightened, caught between wanting to hold the gaze and wanting to escape it entirely. Heeseung’s expression didn’t give much away, just that familiar steadiness that somehow made it harder for Sunoo to breathe.

He looked away first, clearing his throat as he rose from the stool. “Goodnight, Heeseung.”

“Night,” Heeseung replied simply.

The word lingered in the air, warm and quiet, following Sunoo down the hall long after he’d slipped away.

__

The house had gone completely quiet by the time Sunoo slipped beneath the blanket. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, the faint chill of winter air sneaking in through the walls despite the warmth of the room. He lay on his side, staring at the faint outline of the ceiling where the streetlight outside cut through the blinds.

But sleep didn’t come.

Instead, his mind replayed the evening in fragments—the laughter at the amusement park, Ni-ki’s boundless energy, Jungwon’s smug grin, Jay’s endless complaints. But always, without fail, it circled back to Heeseung. The way his voice had softened when he told Sunoo not to worry. The steadiness in his gaze when everyone else was loud. The quiet between them at the counter, where a single glance had been enough to unravel him.

Sunoo pressed his lips together and flipped onto his back, arms tucked under his head. The feeling inside him wasn’t fading; it was growing. And that scared him more than he wanted to admit. It felt reckless—dangerous, even—to let his heart trip over itself like this just because someone treated him better than others ever had. Was he really that starved for kindness? That easily swayed? The thought made his chest tighten, shame pricking at the edges.

He squeezed his eyes shut, as if that could block it out. But his chest was restless, warm in a way that had nothing to do with the blanket wrapped around him. He could still hear Heeseung’s “night” echoing in his head, simple, ordinary, yet sticking to him like it had weight.

A soft, humorless laugh slipped out. “Pathetic,” he whispered into the dark, the word tasting bitter on his tongue.

He turned to his side again, tugging the blanket higher.

But no matter how much he tried, sleep still kept its distance, leaving him alone with thoughts he wasn’t ready to face.

Chapter Text

The sunlight crept lazily through the thin curtains, spilling pale gold across the small living room. Dust motes drifted in the quiet air.

Sunoo blinked awake to the faint smell of coffee and the gentle sound of something sizzling in the kitchen.

For a second, he didn’t move. It took him a moment to remember where he was — not in his tiny apartment, but in Heeseung’s.

And for the first time in years, there wasn’t the weight of an early shift pressing on his shoulders.

He sat up slowly, hair messy and eyes half-lidded. The warmth of the blanket still clung to him.

Heeseung’s humming floated through the half-open door, low and steady, like something that could only belong to mornings like this.

When Sunoo finally padded into the kitchen, Heeseung turned from the stove, a spatula in hand.

“You’re up,” he said, lips quirking. “I was starting to think you died in there.”

Sunoo yawned, rubbing his eye. “You’re loud for someone who spent the night gaming and only had a few hours of sleep."

"How do you know that?"

"You're acting like your room is not directly in front of mine. Your voice was so loud."

Heeseung chuckled and gestured toward the table. “Breakfast’s ready. You drink coffee, right?”

He slid a mug across the table before Sunoo could answer.

The smell was rich, comforting. Sunoo wrapped his hands around the mug, feeling the warmth seep into his palms.

“This feels weird,” he murmured.

“What does?”

“Waking up late. Eating breakfast that’s not leftovers. Having… time.”

Heeseung smiled softly, leaning against the counter. “Then you should do it more often.”

Sunoo laughed under his breath, but he didn’t disagree. The morning air felt light — a kind of peace he didn’t realize he’d been craving.

Sunoo’s phone buzzed with a familiar stream of notifications.

He blinked at the screen while taking a sip of the coffee, a smile tugging at his lips as the group chat exploded with activity. 

Sunoo & the 6 dwarfs

Jake:

who else slept for 10 hrs straight?? 😭

Ni-ki:

[attached selfie: half his face buried in a pillow]

still in bed losers

Jungwon:

i have to trim my mom’s carnivorous plant again why does it need a haircut 💔

Jay:

good morning to everyone except Mrs Yang's carnivorous plants.

Sunghoon:

be grateful you’re not skating rn.

Jake:

nvm u win

Jay:

we all knew that already

Ni-ki:

sunghoon hyung’s coach probably dragging him by the collar rn 💀

Sunghoon:

close enough

Jake:

lol

Jungwon:

where’s heeseung hyung and sunoo hyung??

Jay:

heeseung probably playing house again

Ni-ki:

👀👀👀

Sunoo:

we’re eating breakfast

Jake:

morning lovebirds 

Sunoo:

?

____

Heeseung, reading over his shoulder, snorted into his coffee. “They’re never gonna let that one go.”

“Yeah,” Sunoo sighed, though the corners of his mouth twitched.

Heeseung leaned closer, teasing. “You could always tell them I cook for you every morning now. That’ll really make them jealous.”

Sunoo looked up at him, mock-serious. “Then you’d actually have to cook every morning.”

“...Fair point.”

The both of them laughed — light, easy, natural.

For once, Sunoo didn’t feel like he was behind everyone else.

He felt like he was right where he was supposed to be.

___

The clock on the wall ticked softly, the apartment bathed in the mellow gold of early afternoon.

Heeseung was sprawled on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, scrolling lazily through his phone.

Sunoo emerged from the bedroom, fixing the cuff of his sleeve.

“I’m gonna go back to my place for a bit,” he said casually, slipping his phone into his pocket. “To grab some clothes before it gets dark.”

Heeseung looked up from his screen. “Oh, right. You mentioned that yesterday.”

He pushed himself upright, already reaching for his jacket. “Let’s go together.”

Sunoo blinked, caught off guard. “You don’t have to. It’s about twenty minutes from here, maybe more. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, no,” Heeseung replied, dead serious but with the faintest curl of a grin. “You’ll probably get lost. Or kidnapped. Or both.”

Sunoo snorted. “Kidnapped? Really?”

Heeseung shrugged. “You look too nice for your own good. Some old lady could ask for directions and suddenly you’re helping her move furniture across town.”

Sunoo gave him a look. “You have so little faith in me.”

“It’s not about faith,” Heeseung said, zipping his jacket. “It’s about prevention.”

Sunoo sighed in defeat, shaking his head but smiling anyway. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re too nice to argue properly,” Heeseung shot back, slipping on his shoes.

By the time Sunoo grabbed his own coat, Heeseung was already holding the door open, waiting.

The hallway light caught in his hair, soft gold against the cold air spilling in.

“C’mon,” Heeseung said, eyes crinkling. “We’ll be quick.”

Sunoo gave up pretending to protest. “Fine. But if you freeze to death out there, that’s on you.”

Heeseung grinned. You sure you're not talking about yourself?”

Sunoo rolled his eyes.

Outside, the chill bit gently at their cheeks as they fell into step beside each other.

For a while, neither spoke — just the sound of their footsteps, the quiet rhythm of the city in winter, and the occasional puff of white breath that faded between them.

When Heeseung’s shoulder brushed against his, Sunoo didn’t move away.

_

The walk to Sunoo’s neighborhood was calm, their conversation dipping between light teasing and comfortable silence. When they reached the narrow building, Sunoo turned to Heeseung with a sheepish look.

“It’s really not much,” he said. “You might regret coming.”

Heeseung smiled. “You think I came for the view?”

Sunoo huffed out a laugh, unlocking the door.

The small apartment opened up to a room that looked exactly like him — neat, quiet, filled with traces of discipline and care. The faint scent of soap lingered in the air. The bed was perfectly made, corners tucked in; the desk beside it was stacked with notebooks and highlighters, and the wall above was lined with schedules and yellowing sticky notes, reminders of shifts and deadlines.

Heeseung took it all in slowly, like he was walking through a memory. “You’ve really been working nonstop,” he murmured.

Sunoo bent to grab his folded clothes from a drawer. “If I don’t keep moving, things fall apart.”

Heeseung glanced at him — not pitying, but quietly concerned. “You live here alone?”

“Yeah.” Sunoo’s tone was even, but there was a small pause before he added, “I’ve been on my own for a while.”

Heeseung hesitated. “No parents?”

Sunoo shook his head, not looking up. “They passed away when I was little. I lived with my grandma until I was eleven. After she was gone…” He shrugged lightly, stuffing another shirt into the bag. “It was just me.”

Heeseung stayed silent for a beat too long. The sound of fabric folding filled the space.

“Sorry,” he said finally, voice soft. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine.” Sunoo smiled — small, practiced, but not fake. “It’s been years. I got used to it.”

Heeseung’s eyes moved around the room again — the old curtains, the faint cracks in the wall, the chipped corner of the desk. But there was warmth, too: the small lamp shaped like a fox, the faded sticker on his mirror, the careful order of everything.

“It suits you,” he said eventually.

Sunoo blinked. “What does?”

“This place. It feels just like you.”

Sunoo tilted his head, lips twitching. “You said that already. Still not sure what it means.”

Heeseung leaned against the wall, his voice dropping a little. “Warm. Simple. Kind of… quiet.”

Sunoo’s breath caught, his hands pausing mid-fold. The words shouldn’t have mattered so much, but they did.

To distract himself, he forced a scoff. “You talk like some old poet.”

Heeseung laughed. “Maybe I just notice things.”

“Like what?”

Heeseung smiled, eyes flicking toward the desk. “Like how your sticky notes are all color-coded. Or how you fold your sleeves before doing anything, even packing. Or how every single thing here looks like it’s been cared for — even the smallest ones.”

Sunoo blinked, unsure how to react. “You notice weird things.”

“I notice the good things,” Heeseung corrected. “You just don’t see them.”

Sunoo rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the faint color rising in his cheeks. He turned to zip up his bag, mumbling, “You’re weird.”

Heeseung chuckled, straightening up. “And you’re terrible at taking compliments.”

The silence that followed was soft — not empty, but steady.

When Sunoo finally slung his bag over his shoulder, Heeseung moved closer and reached for the doorknob. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Sunoo said. He looked around the room once more, then back at Heeseung. “Sorry it’s small.”

Heeseung smiled — gentle, sure. “It’s not small. It’s yours.”

Sunoo felt his heart flutter at his words. He quickly looked away.

___

They left just as the afternoon light began to fade, the streets tinted gold and gray.

Sunoo locked his door and tugged his scarf tighter, glancing at Heeseung waiting by the stairwell — hands in pockets, that familiar lazy half-smile on his face.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Sunoo said quietly once they started walking.

Heeseung gave a light scoff. “You’re thanking me for hanging out with you? That’s kind of insulting, you know.”

“I just didn’t want to trouble you.”

“You didn’t.” His tone softened. “Besides, if I didn’t come, who’d make sure you don’t get kidnapped on the way?”

Sunoo rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips lifted. “You’re never dropping that, huh.”

“Not when it’s true.”

The air was cold enough to sting their noses, but the walk felt strangely easy — their steps falling in rhythm without needing to match.

The faint smell of roasted chestnuts drifted from a street vendor nearby, and somewhere a bus rumbled past, its windows fogged from the warmth inside.

“Wanna stop by the convenience store?” Heeseung asked. “I’m freezing.”

They ducked inside, warmth greeting them immediately.

Heeseung grabbed his usual canned coffee, Sunoo his banana milk. They paid, stepped back outside, and for a moment just stood there — the quiet hum of the city around them, the first flakes of snow beginning to fall.

Heeseung spoke first. “You know… sometimes I think people expect too much from me.”

Sunoo turned his head slightly. “What do you mean?”

Heeseung exhaled, breath misting in front of him. “Everyone thinks I’ve got it all together. That I’m the one who’ll fix things, keep things steady. But I don’t always have it figured out. I just act like I do.”

Sunoo stayed quiet, listening.

“I like being dependable,” Heeseung continued softly. “It’s just… some days, it’s exhausting. Some days I wish someone would ask if I’m okay — not because something’s wrong, but because it’d just be nice to hear.”

The words hung in the cold air, soft but heavy.

Sunoo shifted his milk between his hands, thumb running along the rim of the bottle. “You should tell the others,” he said finally. “They’d understand. You don’t have to pretend with them.”

Heeseung chuckled, eyes glinting. “And ruin my perfect hyung image?”

“Please,” Sunoo muttered, smiling faintly. “They already know.”

Heeseung blinked. “Know what?”

“That you’re not as composed as you think you are.”

That made Heeseung laugh under his breath, the sound soft and genuine. “Guess I’m worse at hiding it than I thought.”

“You are,” Sunoo said, his voice gentle now. “But that’s not a bad thing.”

Heeseung tilted his head, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes — something tender. “You’re surprisingly good at reading people, you know that?”

“Not really,” Sunoo said. “Just you.”

Heeseung looked at him for a long beat, then smiled — small, real.

After a while, he spoke again. “When it gets too heavy, I write.”

“Songs, right?”

Heeseung raised a brow. “You know about that?”

“The others told me. Said you write all kinds — ballads, pop, R&B.”

Heeseung chuckled quietly. “Yeah. R&B’s my favorite. I like songs that sound warm but feel a little sad underneath. The kind that pretend to be fine even when they’re not.”

“That sounds like you,” Sunoo said before he could stop himself.

Heeseung blinked, startled, then laughed softly. “Maybe.”

And as they walked on, Sunoo’s mind wandered — back to when he first met Heeseung, back when they were paired for that class music project.

He remembered how Heeseung used to smile too easily, how that smile faltered for just a second when Sunoo didn’t know how to respond.

Back then, it felt like a façade — something practiced.

But as the weeks went by, Heeseung slipped. Sometimes he’d joke a little too freely or sigh too honestly. Maybe because Sunoo was quiet, or because he didn’t ask for more than what was given, Heeseung started to show him pieces of himself he didn’t show the others.

And Sunoo had recognized it — even then. The way Heeseung’s real self peeked through in small moments. The unguarded glances. The tone he used when he thought no one was really listening.

Now, walking side by side again, Sunoo couldn’t help but think that this — this version of Heeseung beside him — was the same one from back then.

No pretenses. No walls. Just him.

They stopped at a crosswalk, the traffic light washing their faces in red.

The snow had started falling again, softer this time — fine flakes floating down in lazy swirls.

Heeseung tilted his head back slightly, watching one melt against his sleeve. “It hasn’t stopped snowing lately.”

Sunoo followed his gaze, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You sound like you mind.”

“I don’t,” Heeseung said. “Just feels weird. Like the city’s trying too hard to look pretty.”

Sunoo laughed quietly. “You think snow’s trying to impress you?”

“Maybe.” Heeseung looked at him then, smile curving in that way that made Sunoo’s chest twist. “But I think it’s working.”

The crosswalk light turned green, but neither moved for a second.

And maybe it was the snow, or maybe just the way Heeseung’s voice softened when he said it — but Sunoo suddenly wished the walk home would never end.

____

Sunoo woke to the low hum of a vacuum and the faint scent of detergent in the air.

He blinked toward the clock on the nightstand — past ten. So much for waking early.

When he pushed the room door open, Heeseung was already halfway through cleaning the living room. His hoodie sleeves were rolled up, hair a mess, the vacuum handle tilting with his every movement.

“You’re seriously cleaning already?” Sunoo asked, rubbing his eyes.

Heeseung glanced up, grinning. “Someone’s gotta make up for your snoring.”

“I don’t snore,” Sunoo muttered.

“You do.” Heeseung’s tone was casual, teasing. “I could hear it from my room.”

“I don't.”

“Okay, you got me.”

Sunoo gave him a look but joined in anyway, picking up a stray towel from the couch and folding it. They worked together in comfortable silence, interrupted only by the heater’s hum and the sound of fabric brushing against fabric.

After a while, Heeseung leaned over to inspect Sunoo’s fold and clicked his tongue. “Wrong side, genius.”

Sunoo frowned. “It’s a fold, not brain surgery.”

Heeseung refolded it neatly, then flicked Sunoo’s forehead. “Fixed it.”

“Ow—hey!”

Heeseung only smirked. 

“You’re impossible.” 

“And you’re bad at folding.” Heeseung bit back.

That broke them both — laughter spilling naturally, soft and bright against the still morning.

When it faded, Sunoo sank back onto the couch, watching snow gather faintly on the balcony rail. “You ever notice how quiet it gets when it snows?”

Heeseung followed his gaze. “Yeah. Like the world’s holding its breath.”

Sunoo hummed. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

The vacuum sat idle now. So did they.

And yet, neither felt the need to fill the silence.

___

By the time the sun began to dip below the windowsill, the apartment smelled faintly of ramen and detergent — the scent of a day lived in quietly.

Heeseung sat cross-legged on the floor, controller in hand, while Sunoo sprawled across the rug beside him, leaning against the couch. The TV screen cast soft flashes of light over their faces — bursts of color from the game they’d been locked in for almost an hour.

“Don’t— don’t you dare steal my loot again,” Sunoo warned, eyes narrowing.

Heeseung didn’t look up from the screen. “What loot?”

“The one you just picked up, Heeseung!”

Heeseung bit back a grin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sunoo turned his body fully toward him, incredulous. “You’re the worst teammate.”

“And yet,” Heeseung said, pretending to sigh, “you keep playing with me.”

Sunoo jabbed at the controller furiously. “Only because you’re the only one who doesn’t rage quit when I accidentally shoot the wrong person.”

Heeseung barked out a laugh — full, genuine. “That was one time.”

“You shot me twice.”

“Still counts as once.”

The argument dissolved into laughter that carried through the room, light and easy. Outside, snow continued to fall in lazy spirals, and the only sound inside the apartment was the occasional button mash and Heeseung’s soft hums of victory.

When Heeseung finally won the round — again — Sunoo dropped the controller dramatically onto the rug. “You cheated.”

Heeseung raised a brow, smug. “How do you even cheat in this game?”

“You found a way.”

Heeseung leaned back against the couch, chuckling as Sunoo sulked beside him. “You know,” he said after a pause, voice low, “you’re kind of scary when you’re competitive.”

Sunoo turned his head toward him, feigning offense. “Scary?”

“In a cute way.”

The words slipped out before Heeseung could stop them.

Sunoo blinked. For a second, neither of them moved. The TV flickered in front of them — gunfire, victory text, a score screen — but neither looked.

Heeseung cleared his throat and reached for the remote. “Anyway,” he said too casually, “another round?”

Sunoo nodded quickly, trying to ignore the way his pulse jumped. “You’re going down this time.”

“If you say so.”

Heeseung smirked, and the next round began.

But neither of them noticed that they were sitting a little closer now than before — the kind of closeness that felt natural, almost inevitable.

They played until the clock on the TV quietly blinked past midnight. Neither seemed to notice.

Every round ended with laughter, every loss sparked another rematch, and every rematch stretched into another hour.

At some point, Sunoo had stopped counting who won or lost. The world outside the apartment felt far away — swallowed by the quiet hum of the heater, the rustle of blankets, and the sound of Heeseung’s voice cutting through his focus just to tease him.

When their last game ended in mutual defeat (Sunoo’s controller dying mid-round, Heeseung wheezing with laughter), they finally called it a night.

Sunoo mumbled something about brushing his teeth, but by the time he emerged from the bathroom, Heeseung had already turned off the TV and was half-asleep on the couch.

He stood there for a moment, watching the way the dim light caught on the slope of Heeseung’s nose, the faint curve of a smile still lingering on his face.

Something in Sunoo’s chest twisted — something unfamiliar but warm.

He looked away quickly, muttering under his breath, “Goodnight,” even though Heeseung probably couldn’t hear him.

Then he slipped into the spare room across the hall, pulling the blanket over his head.

Sleep came easier than he expected.

And when morning came — soft light spilling through the curtains, the smell of coffee drifting through the air — it felt almost like waking up in a dream he didn’t want to end.

___

The soft scent of coffee drifted through the air long before Sunoo opened his eyes.

For a moment, he thought he was still dreaming — the faint hum of music from the kitchen, the steady clink of utensils, the way the air already felt warm even though it was winter.

He pushed himself up, blinking at the sunlight spilling through the curtains. It was gentler than usual.

When he stepped out of the room, Heeseung was already in the kitchen, half-turned toward the stove, wearing a plain gray hoodie and a focused expression.

Heeseung noticed him immediately. “You’re up early.”

Sunoo let out a quiet yawn, rubbing his eyes. “Not really. You just wake up too early.”

Heeseung laughed softly, turning back to the stove. “That’s new. Yesterday you woke up later than this.”

Sunoo frowned at that, grabbing the nearest mug on the counter and pouring himself some coffee. “That’s because I was tired. I always wake up early when I’m not.”

Heeseung hummed in disbelief, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “So is this your natural state then?”

“Unfortunately,” Sunoo said, deadpan, taking a careful sip.

“Guess I’ll have to start setting breakfast earlier then when you sleep over again,” Heeseung teased.

“You don’t have to,” Sunoo replied, leaning against the counter. “You’ve already done enough. I can cook too, you know.”

“Oh, I know you can,” Heeseung said easily. “I’ve eaten your tteokbokki, remember?”

Sunoo blinked, slightly caught off guard. “You… remember that?”

“Of course,” Heeseung said, glancing over his shoulder. “That was the only day the teachers didn’t complain during Home Ec. Pretty sure they’d pay you to cook again.”

Sunoo’s lips twitched into a small smile. “It wasn’t that good.”

Heeseung shrugged, sliding a fried egg onto a plate. “Good enough that I remember it.”

There was an unspoken warmth in his tone — casual, but sincere.

Sunoo didn’t respond right away. He watched as Heeseung moved around the kitchen with quiet familiarity, the sound of utensils and soft background music filling the air. It all felt… strangely peaceful.

He didn’t realize how much he’d missed moments like this — the simple routine of sharing space, of being seen, of not needing to rush anywhere.

Heeseung set two plates on the counter. “Sit. Eat before it gets cold.”

Sunoo obeyed without argument.

They ate together in the kind of silence that didn’t feel like silence at all — broken occasionally by small talk about the weather, about Jake’s random midnight texts, about how Ni-ki probably still hadn’t left his bed yet.

When Heeseung reached over to refill his coffee, Sunoo caught himself staring — not because of what Heeseung was doing, but because of how effortlessly kind it all was. The little things.

And maybe it was just the warmth of the room, or the comfort of the routine, but Sunoo found himself smiling before he even realized it.

___

After breakfast, the morning unfolded in quiet, easy motions.

Heeseung washed the dishes while Sunoo wiped the counters, both of them moving in a wordless rhythm that didn’t need direction.

Every now and then, Heeseung would hum — not a full song, just fragments of something soft and slow.

It wasn’t the first time Sunoo had heard him hum like that, but today it felt different. Maybe because the apartment was so still, or because the melody sounded like it belonged only here, in this moment.

When they were done cleaning up, Heeseung leaned against the counter, drying his hands with a towel. “You don’t have to help with everything, you know.”

“I’m not doing much,” Sunoo said, shaking his head. “And besides, I’m the one staying here rent-free. It’s only fair.”

Heeseung tilted his head, that half-smile of his forming again. “You make it sound like I’m charging you.”

Sunoo rolled his eyes. “You might as well, with how comfortable your place is.”

“Comfortable, huh?” Heeseung teased. “That’s a first.”

Sunoo gave a light laugh, brushing off his hands. “It just feels… warm. I guess.”

Heeseung didn’t say anything right away. His gaze lingered a second too long, his smile gentler this time — less teasing, more thoughtful. “I’m glad you think so.”

Sunoo blinked at that, unsure why his chest tightened a little. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Heeseung shrugged. “It’s just… nice, having someone here. The place doesn’t feel so quiet when you’re around.”

The words hit harder than Sunoo expected.

He looked away, busying himself with rearranging the already neat dish towel. “You make it sound like I talk a lot.”

Heeseung chuckled, low and easy. “You don’t have to talk to make noise, Sunoo.”

That sentence stayed with him — more than it should have.

Later, when Heeseung settled onto the couch with his guitar, strumming absentmindedly, Sunoo found himself sitting at the dining table, pretending to scroll through his phone.

But he wasn’t really reading anything.

He was listening.

Heeseung’s fingers moved effortlessly across the strings, coaxing out notes that filled the quiet air with warmth. The sound wasn’t polished, not like something meant for an audience — it was raw, unguarded.

Sunoo caught himself staring again — not just at the way Heeseung played, but at the way he looked when he wasn’t aware anyone was watching. Relaxed. Peaceful. Human.

He remembered thinking, back when they first met, that Heeseung’s smile felt like a mask — something practiced and polite. But this version of him, the one sitting on the couch, humming softly under his breath… it felt real.

And maybe that was why it made Sunoo’s heart stumble a little in his chest.

He looked down quickly, trying to focus on his phone screen. His reflection in the black surface stared back at him — cheeks faintly warm, lips pressed tight, eyes a little too restless.

This feeling — whatever it was — felt dangerous.

But when Heeseung called his name softly a moment later, asking if he wanted to go out for a walk, Sunoo didn’t hesitate.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling before he could stop himself. “I’d like that.”

____

The air outside was cold but pleasant, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of snow and roasted chestnuts from a nearby vendor.

They walked side by side, shoulders brushing occasionally, saying nothing at first.

It was one of those silences that didn’t need to be filled.

Heeseung had his hands tucked in his pockets, his breath misting lightly in the cold. “I usually come out here when I need to think,” he said after a while. “It’s quiet around this time of day.”

Sunoo nodded, watching the way the light caught on Heeseung’s hair. “You do a lot of thinking, don’t you?”

Heeseung laughed softly. “Guess so. Comes with the songwriting, I think. You end up thinking too much about everything.”

“That sounds exhausting,” Sunoo murmured.

“Sometimes it is,” Heeseung admitted. “But sometimes… it helps me make sense of things.”

They walked a few more steps before Sunoo spoke again. “Like what?”

Heeseung shrugged, looking ahead. “Like people. Or feelings. Or the stuff you don’t really understand until you write about it.”

Sunoo glanced up at him, the corner of his mouth lifting. “So… you write about feelings you don’t understand?”

Heeseung grinned. “Isn’t that what most songs are?”

Sunoo chuckled quietly, and for a while, that was all there was — their laughter blending with the soft rustle of the wind.

They ended up by the small park just a few blocks from the apartment. The benches were dusted with snow, and a few kids were making a crooked snowman under the bare trees.

Heeseung stopped walking, his gaze following the kids for a moment before turning back to Sunoo. “You know, it’s funny. I’ve lived here for years, but I never really came out to this park. It feels different today.”

“Because you’re here with me?” Sunoo teased before realizing what he’d said.

Heeseung laughed. “Maybe.”

Sunoo’s face warmed immediately. “I— that’s not what I meant—”

“I know,” Heeseung said, still smiling. “But maybe you’re right.”

And maybe it was the cold, or maybe just the way Heeseung’s smile softened when he said it — but Sunoo suddenly wished the walk home would never end.

By the time they got back, the sky had already started to dim — a pale wash of lavender and silver stretching across the horizon. The city lights flickered on one by one, casting the apartment in a warm orange glow.

Heeseung kicked off his shoes and headed straight to the kitchen, pulling out two mugs. “Hot chocolate?”

Sunoo nodded, his fingers still a little cold from the walk. “You really like making warm drinks for people, huh?”

Heeseung shrugged, reaching for the cocoa mix. “It’s an easy way to make someone stay longer.”

Sunoo froze for a second, his gaze snapping up. “Huh?”

Heeseung just smiled — that small, teasing curve of his lips that always made it impossible to tell how serious he was. “I’m kidding. Or maybe not.”

Sunoo let out a quiet laugh, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in his chest. “You’re weird, you know that?”

“Yeah, I’ve been told.”

The rich smell of chocolate filled the air as Heeseung stirred the mugs. When he slid one across the counter toward Sunoo, their fingers brushed — just a brief touch, but enough to send warmth rushing all the way up Sunoo’s arm.

Heeseung leaned on the counter across from him, sipping his drink. “So,” he said, voice casual, “you’re heading home tomorrow, right?”

Sunoo hesitated, nodding. “Yeah. I should, before the others start calling me a freeloader.”

“You could stay longer,” Heeseung said lightly, though there was a trace of something quieter beneath it. “It’s not like I’d mind.”

“I know,” Sunoo replied, looking down at his mug. “But I probably should go. I’ve already stayed longer than I planned to.”

There was a pause — soft but weighted. The only sound was the faint hum of the heater and the slow ticking of the clock above the TV.

“Still,” Heeseung murmured, breaking the silence, “it’s been nice having you here.”

Sunoo looked up. “Yeah. It’s been nice… being here too.”

Heeseung’s smile met his eyes this time. “Good. Then we’ll do this again.”

Sunoo nodded, but something about the word again made his chest ache. He wasn’t sure why — maybe because he wasn’t sure when again would be.

After that, they fell into a comfortable quiet.

Heeseung pulled out his guitar again, sitting by the window this time, his fingers plucking out a lazy, unfinished melody. Sunoo curled up at the far end of the couch, half-listening, half-lost in thought.

The song was soft, slow — the kind of tune that felt like it was meant to stay unfinished.

And as Sunoo’s eyelids grew heavier, he thought to himself that this might be what contentment feels like — this stillness, this warmth, this quiet kind of ache that made him wish time would just stop.

____

The morning sunlight spilled gently through the window, painting the room in soft gold. The air felt still — quieter than usual, as if it, too, knew what day it was.

Sunoo was neatly folding his last shirt when Heeseung appeared by the door, fully dressed, hair styled just enough to look like he hadn’t tried.

“You’re really leaving today, huh?” Heeseung said, voice low.

Sunoo glanced over his shoulder with a faint smile. “Someone has to, right? You can’t keep feeding me forever.”

Heeseung huffed a quiet laugh and stepped further inside. “I wouldn’t mind. You eat less than Ni-ki anyway.”

“That’s not saying much,” Sunoo replied, though his smile softened at the edges.

Heeseung crouched beside him, reaching to help with the bag that sat half-zipped on the floor. His movements were unhurried — careful, even — like he was trying to stall for time.

“You know,” Heeseung said, tucking the last bit of fabric in before zipping it up properly, “you could stay a few more days.”

Sunoo paused. “If I stay longer, you’ll get sick of me.”

“That’s not possible,” Heeseung murmured, his tone easy, but his eyes gave away the weight behind the words.

Sunoo blinked, momentarily speechless. “You say stuff like that so casually, it’s unfair.”

“I only say it when I mean it.”

That shut him up quickly.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Heeseung stood, slinging the bag over his shoulder and holding it out toward him. “I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t have to. I can—”

“I want to,” Heeseung interrupted, meeting his gaze with that steady look that always made it impossible to argue.

So Sunoo didn’t.

___

The walk back to his neighborhood was quiet, the kind of silence that didn’t need filling. Snow crunched faintly beneath their shoes; cold air brushed against their cheeks.

When they reached the familiar street corner near Sunoo’s apartment, Heeseung slowed his steps. “Guess this is it.”

Sunoo nodded, the word yeah caught in his throat.

Heeseung set the bag down beside him. “Text me when you’re settled.”

“It's my own place... but yeah, I will.”

Heeseung hesitated for a second before reaching out — brushing a stray bit of snow from Sunoo’s hair, his fingers light and brief.

“You’ll be okay, right?”

Sunoo smiled, small but real. “I’ve been okay for a long time.”

“I know,” Heeseung said softly. “But still. Be careful.”

Sunoo bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to let the warmth in his chest show too much. “You too.”

They stood there for another moment — long enough for the cold to creep into their hands, long enough to make it harder to say goodbye.

Finally, Sunoo took the bag, stepping back. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

“Anytime.”

Heeseung’s voice lingered even as Sunoo turned toward the gate.

Sunoo glanced back once — just once — and caught Heeseung watching him, a faint smile ghosting his face despite the cold.

It was the kind of look that stayed long after he walked away.

____

The apartment was quiet when Sunoo stepped back inside.

Too quiet.

He shut the door behind him and stood there for a moment, the faint echo of Heeseung’s voice still lingering in his head. The space felt smaller than he remembered — the same walls, the same bed, the same worn table stacked with his notes. Yet somehow, it all looked a little different now.

He dropped his bag by the corner and sat down on the edge of his bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight.

For the first time in days, he was alone again.

When he reached into his bag to unpack, his fingers brushed against something soft — the fox plush.

He pulled it out gently, setting it on his lap. It was still warm from being held the whole way back, and faintly smelled of Heeseung’s laundry detergent.

The silence wrapped around him, thick and heavy but not empty. It pulsed in time with his heartbeat — quick, uneven, restless.

He tried to distract himself — folding his clothes, checking his phone — but it didn’t work.

Every little thing pulled his thoughts back to Heeseung.

The way he smiled while cooking.

The quiet hum in his throat when he focused.

The look in his eyes right before he said goodbye.

And that voice — soft, steady — You can stay a few more days.

Sunoo pressed his palms to his face. His heart was pounding too loud now, like it was trying to tell him something he wasn’t ready to hear.

He stood abruptly and went to the bathroom.

The light flickered on, casting pale reflections across the mirror. His cheeks were flushed, eyes shining — like he’d been running without realizing it.

He leaned closer, gripping the edge of the sink. His voice came out in a whisper, shaky but certain.

 “I’m in love with Lee Heeseung.”

The words felt strange on his tongue — terrifying, but true.

He stared at himself for a long moment, then laughed quietly under his breath.

It was small, breathless — the kind of laugh that comes when something finally makes sense.

When he turned off the light, his reflection disappeared.

But the warmth in his chest stayed.

Chapter Text

It was late morning when Sunoo’s phone buzzed on the desk beside his half-finished cup of instant coffee.

He’d been staring blankly at his open notebook, doodling half-formed thoughts in the margin.

The message preview lit up his screen:

Boss :

Sunoo, I’m really sorry. I’ve been trying to hold off, but I can’t keep the restaurant running anymore. Business has been too slow these past few months. I have to let everyone go. Please understand. Thank you for everything.

Sunoo read it once.

Then twice.

And again, as if the words might change if he stared hard enough.

He sat there for a long time, phone still in hand, the faint hum of the refrigerator filling the silence.

Three weeks of waiting—three weeks of hoping the ‘temporary’ closure was just that—crumbled in seconds.

He pressed his thumb to the power button and turned off the screen, setting the phone down carefully.

Too carefully.

Like if he wasn’t careful, something inside him might crack too.

The small apartment suddenly felt heavier.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead on the desk. The notebook page beneath him smeared slightly where a tear had fallen.

___

For a while, Sunoo just sat there at his desk, staring at nothing. The coffee had gone cold hours ago. The clock on the wall ticked past noon, then one, then two. 

He didn’t move. Didn’t even bother turning on the lights when the room dimmed.

There was no anger — just a dull, slow ache spreading through his chest. He knew this could happen. 

He’d seen the signs when the restaurant started closing more often, when the boss stopped replying right away. But knowing didn’t make the fall any softer.

His body felt heavy — like every bone was filled with sand. He pushed himself away from the desk and trudged toward the bed. 

He lay down without changing clothes, the weight of the blanket pressing him further into the mattress.

His phone buzzed once, then again — faint sounds muffled under the sheets. He didn’t reach for it. He didn’t want to. He just wanted everything to stop for a while — the noise, the thoughts, the constant scramble to survive.

His eyes fell shut, the room spinning slightly in the dark. And for the first time in months, Sunoo fell asleep not because he was tired, but because he couldn’t bear to be awake.

__

When morning came, the weak light through the curtains woke him. His body ached from sleeping in the same position, his eyes swollen and dry. He turned his head toward the desk — his phone was still there, facedown. He reached for it with a sigh.

The screen lit up immediately — dozens of unread messages flooding his notifications. He blinked against the brightness and opened the group chat.

Jake:

yo anyone down to hang later? dinner maybe?

Ni-ki:

bro sunoo hyung’s always working 💀

Jungwon:

yeah, does he even have shifts right now? it’s been too quiet lately

Jay:

i thought the restaurant’s still closed?

Sunghoon:

temporary right?

Sunoo stared at the messages, thumb hovering over the keyboard. 

His heart sank. 

He typed. Deleted. Typed again. Then finally sent it.

Sunoo:

it’s not a break anymore

A moment passed.

Heeseung:

what do you mean?

Sunoo swallowed, fingers trembling.

Sunoo:

the restaurant’s shutting down. boss texted me yesterday.

The chat went silent. The small dots of typing appeared, disappeared, then appeared again.

Jake:

what? seriously??

Jay:

Sunoo… I’m really sorry.

Ni-ki:

that’s rough hyung ...

Jungwon:

are you okay?

Sunoo:

yeah. i’m fine.

He set the phone down, staring at the screen until it dimmed to black. He wasn’t fine. But saying otherwise would make it real.

He leaned back against the headboard, knees drawn to his chest, and watched the sunlight crawl up the wall. 

Another morning. 

Another day he didn’t know what to do with.

___

For the next few days, Sunoo stayed inside.

The sky outside his small window shifted from morning blue to dull gray, then back to black again — but he hardly noticed.

He sat by the desk sometimes, staring blankly at the cold mug of coffee he didn’t finish. Other times, he curled up on his bed, the silence pressing against him from all sides.

His phone buzzed occasionally. He read every message his friends sent, checking up on him, but his fingers rarely moved.

Jake:

yo, u alive?

No reply.

Jake:

come on man, at least say hi.

Still nothing.

Jungwon:

hyung, it’s really sunny today. open your window a bit, okay?

Sunoo:

ok.

He didn’t.

Jay:

Hey, kid. You’ve been quiet.

Are you eating properly?

Sunoo:

yeah. don’t worry.

He set the phone face down afterward.

Ni-ki:

if u ghost us longer i’m telling heeseung hyung to drag u out himself.

The message sat unread for hours before he finally opened it. He didn’t answer.

He leaned back against the wall, the fox plush limp in his hands. The apartment felt smaller than ever — like every corner reminded him of how still everything had become.

Outside, the faint hum of traffic went on, uncaring.

He didn’t know what was worse — the emptiness of being alone or the weight of everyone trying to reach him through it.

And through it all, Heeseung’s name never appeared again.

That absence lingered in his mind longer than any of the messages he’d left on read.

__

Days went by since Sunoo last said anything in the group chat.

At first, everyone thought he was just tired. But then Jake mentioned that Sunoo had left him on read for two days straight. Jungwon said he hadn’t replied to his memes either. Even Jay, who usually defended him, admitted that something felt off.

The messages that used to fill the chat — Sunoo’s quiet “haha” or his occasional teasing replies — were gone.

Now, it was just:

Jake:

has anyone heard from sunoo today?

Jungwon:

nope. still nothing.

Jay:

maybe he just needs space?

Sunghoon:

that’s not like him though.

Heeseung read through the messages, thumb hesitating over the keyboard. He’d been thinking the same thing, but for some reason he kept convincing himself that maybe Sunoo just needed time.

Still, the silence stretched too long to ignore.

He opened their private chat, staring at their last messages — the one where Sunoo said the restaurant was closed permanently.

Heeseung exhaled through his nose and typed.

Heeseung:

hey. how’ve you been?

He waited. The screen stayed still. Then, the typing bubble appeared for a few seconds before disappearing again.

Finally—

Sunoo:

okay.

Just that. One word.

Heeseung stared at it, frowning. He typed again.

Heeseung:

just okay?

Sunoo:

yeah.

No emoji, no follow-up. Just yeah.

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, chewing the inside of his cheek. Something was wrong — he could feel it. Sunoo’s replies were too cold, too short. He wasn’t fine.

He thought about calling, but stopped himself. Sunoo didn’t sound like he wanted to talk.

Still, Heeseung couldn’t shake off the unease gnawing at his chest. He wanted to help but didn’t know how.

Then, as he sat there scrolling aimlessly, his eyes caught on a saved contact in his phone — Aunt Jihye.

Her café-library.

It hit him all at once. The small, quiet shop with good pay, calm staff, and no rush — the kind of environment Sunoo would actually breathe in.

He sat up, eyes narrowing as the idea formed fully.

If there was even a chance this could help, he had to try.

He hadn’t called her in months — not since his last family gathering.

He hesitated for a few seconds, then pressed call.

It rang twice before she picked up.

“Heeseung? Oh, what a surprise! You don’t usually call unless you need something.”

Heeseung let out a small laugh. “You know me too well, Auntie.”

“I always do. So, what’s wrong this time? Don’t tell me you burned your kitchen again.”

“I didn’t— okay, that was one time,” he said, grinning despite himself. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something about the café.”

Her tone softened. “Mm? What about it?”

He leaned back in his chair. “You’re still running it under the company, right? I remember you said you were looking for more part-timers a while back.”

“That’s right. It’s quiet there lately, so we’re planning to add one more person. Why?”

He hesitated for a moment. “I know someone. He's… hardworking. Really hardworking. But he just lost a job. I thought maybe—if you’re still hiring—he could help out.”

There was a short pause on the other line. “You vouching for this friend of yours?”

“I am.”

A light chuckle. “You don’t vouch for people easily, Heeseung.”

“They deserve it,” he said simply.

His aunt hummed, and he could almost imagine her nodding. “Alright. If you’re confident, tell him to drop by next week. I’ll have the manager handle the paperwork.”

Relief washed over him. “Thanks, Auntie.”

“You’re a good kid, you know that? Always looking out for others. But remember to take care of yourself too.”

He smiled. “Will do.”

When the call ended, Heeseung placed his phone down, still smiling faintly.

It wasn’t often that he felt this kind of satisfaction — a quiet, genuine warmth that spread through his chest.

He sat there for a while, thinking about how Sunoo’s face might light up when he told him the news.

He’d been watching his friend struggle for days now, so lost and withdrawn, and the thought of being able to lift even a bit of that weight from his shoulders made Heeseung’s chest feel lighter too.

It was late, though. The clock on his wall blinked 12:43 a.m.

Heeseung stretched, smiling to himself as he got up from his chair.

He could tell him tomorrow.

As he crawled into bed, that thought followed him — soft, steady, comforting.

Tomorrow, he’d make things a little easier for Sunoo.

And with that, Heeseung drifted to sleep, a quiet smile still lingering on his face.

___

Heeseung woke up earlier than usual, the morning light slipping through his blinds. For the first time in days, his chest felt lighter.

He didn’t bother making coffee first — just sat on the edge of his bed and typed out a message.

Heeseung:

hey, I might’ve found something for you. my aunt’s café-library needs part-timers. it’s calm, good pay too.

He reread it once, then hit send.

A few minutes passed. No response.

He shrugged, assuming Sunoo might still be asleep, and got up to make breakfast.

Halfway through stirring the pot, his phone buzzed.

Sunoo:

you didn’t have to do that.

please don’t.

Heeseung frowned. He wiped his hands and typed back quickly.

Heeseung:

it’s no big deal. i just thought it’d help.

The typing dots appeared for a second, disappeared, and then appeared again — only to stop entirely.

Something felt off.

Before he could overthink, his phone rang. Sunoo.

Heeseung picked up almost instantly.

“Hey—”

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Sunoo’s voice trembled, quiet but firm.

Heeseung froze. “What do you mean? I just—”

“I told you it’s fine. You’ve helped me enough already. I can’t keep taking from you.”

Heeseung blinked, taken aback. “It’s not taking, Sunoo. I’m not— I just wanted to make things a little easier for you.”

“You don’t have to fix everything, Heeseung,” Sunoo interrupted, his tone breaking slightly. “You don’t have to fix me.”

The room fell silent. Heeseung’s throat tightened.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said softly.

“I know,” Sunoo whispered after a pause. “But it still feels like it.”

And before Heeseung could say anything else, the line went dead.

He stared at his phone screen for a long time, listening to the faint echo of the dial tone fade out.

Outside, the snow had started falling again — soft and soundless against the window.

Heeseung sank back onto his chair, running a hand over his face.

He’d wanted to help. Just help.

But somewhere along the way, it had turned into something that hurt instead.

___

Sunoo sat on the edge of his bed long after the call ended, the silence in his apartment pressing against his chest.

The phone still lay beside him, screen dim, Heeseung’s name faintly glowing before it disappeared.

He buried his face in his hands. He’d tried to sound firm — calm — but the moment the call ended, his voice broke.

Tears slipped past his fingers before he could stop them.

Everything was coming down at once.

The restaurant.

The rent.

The exhaustion that never really left.

Just last night, his landlord had come by again — polite but firm, reminding him that four months of rent was overdue. He’d nodded then, said he’d find a way. He always did.

But now, sitting here, everything that once felt survivable suddenly didn’t.

And worse — the guilt that had been quietly eating at him since that night at Heeseung’s apartment began to gnaw again.

Heeseung, with his soft smiles and his gentle insistence.

Heeseung, who made him laugh.

Heeseung, who made him feel seen.

And here he was — crying alone in a tiny apartment, too prideful, too broken to let that same person help him.

The thought made his chest ache.

He curled into himself, knees to chest, trying to hold it all in.

“Pathetic,” he muttered into the quiet. “You’re so pathetic.”

He pressed the heel of his palm against his eyes until it hurt, until the tears stopped falling.

Eventually, exhaustion dragged him under — not sleep, just stillness.

___

When he woke, it was nearly noon. His phone buzzed non-stop beside his pillow.

He blinked blearily and reached for it.

Jake:

bro u alive??

Ni-ki:

i swear if u ghosted us again im dragging u out myself

Jungwon:

the way u said that sounds like a threat 💀

Jay:

seriously though. u okay?

Sunghoon:

checking in. no pressure to reply, just letting u know we’re here.

Sunoo stared at the screen. The warmth in those messages only made his chest heavier.

He typed a single reply.

Sunoo:

yeah. i’m okay. just tired.

He hit send and turned the screen face down.

___

By afternoon, the group chat was buzzing again.

Jake:

ok so hear me out. we do a movie night. everyone bring snacks.

Ni-ki:

dibs on not sitting next to jay he throws popcorn

Jay:

first of all—

Heeseung:

who’s bringing the drinks?

A pause.

Then;

Jake:

What about Sunoo?

The typing dots appeared under Sunoo’s name.

Then vanished.

Seconds passed.

Jay:

Sunoo?

No reply.

Ni-ki:

he probably fell asleep again lol

Heeseung:

yeah… maybe.

The chat moved on after that, back to jokes and random memes, but the air felt different — even through the screen.

Heeseung sent another message privately later, simple and quiet.

Heeseung:

don’t forget to eat, okay?

It sat there. Unanswered.

Sunoo saw it.

He always did.

He just couldn’t bring himself to reply.

Because if he did, he knew his walls would crumble again — and he couldn’t afford to do that. Not right now.

So instead, he turned his phone facedown again, crawled under the covers, and let the hum of the city fill the silence he refused to break.

By the third day, the group chat still carried on — laughter, complaints, plans for the weekend.

Sunoo read every word, but never joined in.

And Heeseung, even through all the noise, noticed exactly what wasn’t being said.

____

Jay leaned back in his chair, a can of iced coffee sweating in his hand. On the other end of the line, Jungwon’s voice crackled faintly, mixed with the occasional rustle of leaves — he was outside again, tending to his mom’s garden.

“You’re still doing that plant thing?” Jay asked, half amused.

“It’s not a thing, hyung,” Jungwon replied, clearly defensive. “It’s my mom’s prized carnivorous plant. It’s high maintenance.”

Jay snorted. “Yeah, sounds familiar.”

“Ha ha,” Jungwon said dryly. “You try keeping something alive that eats other things for breakfast.”

Jay chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’ll pass. Sounds like it’d eat me first.”

There was a comfortable pause — the kind of easy silence only close friends had.

Then Jungwon’s voice softened. “Hey, Jay hyung.”

“Yeah?”

“Have you noticed… the group chat’s been off lately?”

Jay didn’t answer right away, but Jungwon heard the quiet sigh through the line. “You mean Sunoo and Heeseung?”

“Yeah.”

Jay exhaled again, leaning his head back. “Yeah. I noticed.”

“It’s weird, right?” Jungwon said, pulling at a leaf absently. “They’re both quiet, but not the usual quiet. It’s like they’re… avoiding each other.”

“They are,” Jay said simply. “Sunoo barely replies to anyone. And when he does, it’s just one-word stuff. Heeseung’s pretending like everything’s fine, but I can tell he’s worried sick.”

Jungwon hummed in agreement. “Heeseung hyung’s not good at hiding things when it’s someone he cares about.”

“Neither is Sunoo,” Jay muttered. “He just hides it in plain sight.”

There was a beat of quiet between them again — not awkward, just heavy with shared understanding.

Finally, Jungwon spoke. “I’m thinking of calling him. Sunoo hyung, I mean. Just to check in. He hasn’t been himself lately.”

Jay nodded, even though Jungwon couldn’t see it. “Good idea. He probably needs someone who won’t… push.”

Jungwon smiled faintly. “You mean someone who’s not you.”

“Exactly,” Jay said without missing a beat, earning a small laugh from the younger boy.

But then his tone softened again. “I’ll go see Heeseung later. Maybe talk some sense into him before he burns a hole through his floor worrying.”

“You think Heeseung hyung’s at home?”

“Probably. That guy barely leaves his apartment unless it’s to buy groceries or check up on us.”

“Sounds like him,” Jungwon said, voice gentling. “Alright then. You talk to Heeseung hyung, I’ll handle Sunoo hyung. Maybe we can… fix whatever this is.”

Jay hummed. “Let’s hope it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Yeah.”

Another short silence — wind on one side, soft city noise on the other.

Then Jungwon added quietly, almost like a thought that slipped out on its own:

“They’re both too kind for their own good.”

Jay’s voice came softer in reply. “Yeah. That’s the problem.”

The line crackled faintly as they said their goodbyes.

And when the call ended, both of them already knew what they had to do next.

____

It was nearing nine when Jungwon decided to call.

He’d spent the last ten minutes staring at the group chat — a thread of half-dead conversations and unanswered messages — before finally sighing and pressing Sunoo’s name.

The line rang a few times before it connected.

“...Hello?”

The voice on the other end was faint, scratchy, like it hadn’t been used much lately.

“Sunoo hyung? It’s me.”

There was a small pause, the rustle of fabric. “Hey, Jungwon.”

“You busy?”

“No,” came the quiet reply. “Just lying down.”

Jungwon hesitated for a moment, shifting on his bed. “You’ve been quiet lately. Everyone noticed. Jake keeps saying you’re ghosting us.”

That earned a soft, humorless chuckle. “Maybe I am.”

Jungwon frowned. “You okay?”

“I don’t know,” Sunoo admitted after a pause. “It’s… stupid, really. I shouldn’t be like this.”

“Like what?”

Sunoo sighed, the sound trembling slightly. “Everyone loses jobs sometimes, right? It’s normal. It’s life.” He gave a bitter laugh. “So why do I feel like my world’s ending over one text?”

Jungwon sat up. “You mean the restaurant?”

“Yeah.” The word came out small. “The boss said he couldn’t afford to keep us. He was kind about it, I guess. But it’s the second time I’ve lost a job in a year, Jungwon. Second time.”

The line went quiet for a while. Then Jungwon said softly, “It’s not stupid.”

Sunoo blinked. “What?”

“It’s not stupid to be upset,” Jungwon said again, firmer this time. “You worked hard for that job. You didn’t just lose a paycheck — you lost something you gave time and effort to. That’s supposed to hurt.”

Sunoo stared at the ceiling, throat tightening. “I keep thinking I should be used to it. I’ve been working since I was what, twelve? Thirteen? I thought I’d stopped caring about stuff like this.”

“You don’t stop caring,” Jungwon murmured. “You just learn to hide it better. But that doesn’t mean it stops mattering.”

That simple sentence made something in Sunoo’s chest twist. His eyes burned, but he blinked hard, trying to push it down.

“Sunoo hyung,” Jungwon continued carefully, “this isn’t just about the job, is it?”

Sunoo froze. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jungwon hesitated, choosing his words. “Things have been kind of tense between you and Heeseung lately. You don’t talk in the chat anymore. You don’t even answer when he asks a question, like that one time.”

Sunoo swallowed hard. “I just didn’t feel like it.”

“Hyung,” Jungwon said softly, “you always feel like it. At least with him.”

That hit too close. Sunoo rolled onto his side, staring at the dim light filtering through his curtains. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple for me,” Jungwon urged. “What happened?”

A shaky breath left Sunoo’s lips. He stayed quiet for a while before finally speaking.

“He texted me a few days ago,” Sunoo said slowly, voice low. “Said his aunt’s café-library was looking for part-timers. Good pay, nice place. He wanted me to take it.”

Jungwon blinked. “That sounds… great?”

“It does.” Sunoo’s laugh cracked halfway through. “But that’s the problem. Heeseung just, he always does this. He helps me. Fixes things before I even ask. And I…” He exhaled shakily. “I can’t stand it.”

Jungwon frowned slightly. “Can’t stand what?”

“How small it makes me feel.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them. His hand gripped the edge of the blanket tighter. “It’s like I’m a charity case, Jungwon. Like I’m someone he has to keep saving.”

“That’s not what he thinks,” Jungwon said quietly.

“But that’s how it feels!” Sunoo snapped, then immediately flinched at his own tone.

“Sorry. I just—” He covered his face with one hand. “I feel pathetic. Every time I fall apart, he’s there to catch me. And I hate that I need him to.”

Jungwon stayed quiet, letting the silence breathe before he spoke again. “You know… maybe it’s not about needing him. Maybe it’s about trusting him enough to let him help.”

Sunoo let out a small, broken laugh. “That sounds like something Jay would say.”

“Maybe,” Jungwon admitted. “But it’s true. Heeseung doesn’t help people out of pity, hyung. He helps because he cares. He doesn’t think you’re weak. If anything, he probably thinks you’re stronger than you realize.”

“Then why does it feel like this?”

“Because you care about him too,” Jungwon said softly.

Sunoo froze. “What—”

“I mean it,” Jungwon continued, calm but firm. “If it didn’t matter to you, you wouldn’t be this hurt. You’re not mad because he tried to help. You’re mad because you think you don’t deserve it.”

The truth landed like a weight — one that Sunoo didn’t want to acknowledge but couldn’t deny. His eyes stung again, and this time he didn’t bother wiping them.

For a while, neither of them said anything. The faint hum of city traffic filled the space between them.

Finally, Jungwon spoke again, softer than before. “Heeseung hyung’s not trying to fix you. He’s just trying to make your life a little easier. Because he wants you in it.”

Sunoo let out a shaky breath, a quiet laugh slipping through. “You talk too mature for your age, you know that?”

Jungwon grinned faintly on the other end. “Someone has to balance out Jake hyung.”

That earned a real laugh this time — quiet, short, but real.

Jungwon smiled at the sound. “You’ll talk to him, right?”

Sunoo hesitated, then nodded even though Jungwon couldn’t see it. “Yeah. Maybe. Not now… but soon.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

When the call ended, Sunoo sat there for a long time, the silence no longer sharp or cold.

He still felt small, still uncertain — but the weight on his chest had shifted, softer somehow.

He leaned back against the wall, whispered to no one in particular, “You’re too kind for your own good, Jungwon.”

And maybe for the first time in days, he meant it when he smiled.

___

[next day]

The sky outside was dimming, caught between gold and grey — that hour when everything feels slower.

Heeseung hadn’t moved from the couch in hours. His laptop sat open on the table, untouched, a blank document staring back at him.

The doorbell rang once. Then again.

He finally got up, dragging himself to the door.

Jay stood there, hair slightly windblown, a can of coffee in each hand. “Evening,” he said, half-smiling. “You look like you’ve been debating with your ceiling all day.”

Heeseung blinked. “You could’ve texted first.”

“I did.” Jay brushed past him and set the coffees down on the table. “You didn’t answer.”

Heeseung sighed and shut the door. “I wasn’t ignoring you.”

Jay raised an eyebrow. “Sure.” He picked up one of the cans, cracking it open. “Figured you’d forget to eat again, so I brought caffeine instead of food. You’re welcome.”

“I did eat,” Heeseung muttered, sitting back down.

“Ramyeon doesn’t count,” Jay said.

Heeseung gave him a look. “Excuse me, my ramyeon absolutely counts. It’s a masterpiece of culinary innovation.”

Jay chuckled, shaking his head. “Only you would call instant noodles a masterpiece.”

They both sipped in quiet amusement for a while. The heater hummed softly in the corner, the city muted behind the rain-speckled window.

Jay finally broke the silence. “So,” he began lightly, “you and Sunoo fighting or something?”

Heeseung frowned. “What makes you say that?”

Jay gave him a look. “You haven’t texted him. He hasn’t texted you. The group chat feels like someone died. Even Ni-ki noticed — and he’s been asleep for half the week.”

Heeseung ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not a fight. I just… said the wrong thing, I guess.”

Jay leaned forward a bit. “What happened?”

Heeseung hesitated, eyes fixed on the can in his hands. “He lost his job. The restaurant closed down. I didn’t want to just sit around, so I… found something for him. My aunt’s café-library needed part-timers, so I called her. She said yes.”

Jay listened quietly.

“I texted him about it,” Heeseung continued, voice softer now. “Thought he’d be glad. But instead, he told me not to. Said I didn’t have to keep helping him. Then he hung up.”

Jay nodded slowly, letting the words sink in. “And now?”

“I don’t know.” Heeseung exhaled. “It’s like no matter what I do, I make it worse.”

Jay leaned back, the couch creaking under his weight. “You didn’t make it worse, Hee. You just made it harder for him to breathe for a second.”

Heeseung frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Think about it.” Jay looked over at him. “You’re someone who’s always doing. Always helping, always fixing. But Sunoo’s… different. He’s been surviving alone since he was a kid. So when you fix things for him, even out of kindness, it feels like you’re taking away the one thing he’s always had — control.”

Heeseung stayed silent for a while. The thought stung a little, not because Jay was harsh, but because he was right.

“I wasn’t trying to make him feel small,” he said quietly.

“I know,” Jay replied. “And I think he knows too. He just… doesn’t know how to handle being cared for that much.”

Heeseung leaned back, staring at the faint light filtering through the curtains. “He’s been through so much already. I just wanted to make things a little easier.”

Jay smiled faintly. “You care about him a lot, huh?”

“Yeah,” Heeseung said automatically, not even pausing to think. “Of course I do. He’s my friend.”

Jay hummed softly, taking a sip of his coffee. “You say that like it’s simple.”

Heeseung turned to him. “It is.”

Jay’s eyes lingered on him a little longer than necessary, but he only smiled. “If you say so.”

The words carried something unspoken — something Jay understood but wasn’t about to point out.

Not yet.

He stood, slipping his coat back on. “You know what you should do though.”

Heeseung raised a brow. “What?”

“Go see him.”

Heeseung blinked. “Now?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Jay said, voice gentle but firm. “But when you go, don’t try to fix anything. Just… be there. Let him know he doesn’t have to do this alone.”

Heeseung nodded slowly, watching Jay head for the door. “Thanks.”

Jay smiled, turning the knob. “Anytime. Just… maybe eat something other than ramyeon before you go play hero again.”

Heeseung scoffed softly. “No promises.”

Jay laughed, closing the door behind him.

And when Heeseung was alone again, he stayed where he was — phone in hand, Jay’s words replaying in his head.

Don’t fix anything. Just be there.

He didn’t fully understand it yet. But something about it made sense.

And for the first time in days, he felt ready to see Sunoo again.

____

Rain tapped gently against the window — steady, soft, like it was trying not to be heard.

Sunoo was folding his laundry, though the pile had barely changed. His hands kept moving, but his mind was elsewhere — on rent reminders, unread messages, and the silence he’d built around himself these past few days.

When the knock came, it startled him.

He hesitated before opening the door.

Heeseung stood there, hair damp, hoodie clinging slightly from the drizzle. He was holding his umbrella awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“You’ll catch a cold,” Sunoo blurted without thinking, stepping aside.

Heeseung chuckled under his breath, slipping in. “You always say that.”

The sound of the rain filled the quiet as Sunoo busied himself at the kitchenette. “What are you doing here?”

Heeseung shrugged. “Couldn’t really sit still anymore.”

Sunoo didn’t reply. He poured tea for both of them, trying not to meet Heeseung’s eyes. When he finally turned, Heeseung was sitting on the edge of the bed, hands clasped, gaze low.

“I came to apologize,” he said softly. “For… how I handled things.”

Sunoo blinked. “You don’t have to—”

“No, I do.” Heeseung looked up then, sincerity clear in his voice. “I just wanted to help. But I didn’t stop to think how that might make you feel. I’m sorry.”

The words sat between them, quiet but heavy.

Sunoo set the mugs down and sank onto the chair across from him. “I know you were only trying to help. It’s just…” He trailed off, eyes fixed on the steam rising from the tea. “I’ve always had to deal with things on my own. It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, I just— don’t really know how to let people help me.”

He gave a small, humorless laugh. “And sometimes, it feels like the more people care, the more I mess things up.”

Heeseung’s voice softened. “You don’t mess things up, Sunoo.”

“Feels like it.”

Heeseung shook his head slowly. “You’re allowed to need help sometimes. It doesn’t make you weak. And I don’t help you because I think you can’t handle it. I help because I want to.”

That made Sunoo’s throat tighten — not painfully, but enough to keep him quiet for a while.

Eventually, he exhaled. “You’re too kind for your own good.”

Heeseung smiled, faint but warm. “Guess we balance each other out, then.”

That drew the smallest laugh from Sunoo — shaky, but real.

They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the rain against the glass. Then, softly, Sunoo asked, “Is the café job still open?”

Heeseung blinked, surprised. “Yeah. Still open.”

“I’ll take it then,” Sunoo said, voice low but steady. “If the offer’s still… there.”

“It’s always there,” Heeseung replied instantly — too fast, too earnest, and he realized it when Sunoo’s lips curved into a shy smile.

“Thank you,” Sunoo said quietly.

Heeseung stood to leave a little later, umbrella in hand. At the door, he turned back.

“Next time you feel like shutting everyone out,” he said gently, “just remember— we don’t want to fix you. We just want you around.”

Sunoo’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

When the door closed, the room felt softer somehow. The air lighter.

Sunoo sat back down, fingers curling around the still-warm mug.

For the first time in days, he let himself breathe.

___

The rain had eased into a drizzle by the time Heeseung stepped outside.

He raised his umbrella, though the air was still damp enough to cling to his clothes.

Each step away from Sunoo’s building felt lighter — not because the problem was gone, but because the silence between them finally wasn’t heavy anymore.

He stopped under the awning of a small convenience store, pulled out his phone, and scrolled through his messages.

The one from his aunt sat near the top, their last exchange left on Have them come by next week.

He typed quickly, thumbs moving before he could second-guess himself.

Heeseung:

hey, about the cafe thing. my friend decided to take the offer

when’s a good day for him to come in?

The reply came a minute later.

Aunt Jihye:

That’s great to hear! Tell him to drop by any time this week. I’ll let the manager know to expect him.

He smiled faintly, exhaling into the night air.

The streetlight reflected off puddles, tiny ripples forming whenever the rain touched down again.

For some reason, the thought of Sunoo’s small smile — the real one, not the polite one — lingered in his mind.

He didn’t really know why it mattered so much.

He just knew it did.

He shoved his phone into his pocket and started walking again, umbrella tilted slightly to the side.

The drizzle had turned cold, but it didn’t bother him.

Somehow, he couldn’t stop smiling.