WHEN A BAD BITCH TELLS ME SOMETHING...
𝗪𝗬𝗪 ᥫ᭡ 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁? , 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍! ౨ৎ 𝖾𝗈𝗆. 𝗌𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗒𝖾𝗈𝗇
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𝐈𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 — Kim Juhoon
chapter thirteen
pairing — soccer player!kim juhoon(cortis) × figure skater!jung hayun(oc)
genre — established relationship, high school sweethearts, angst with comfort, miscommunication, soft domestic intimacy, growing pains, coming-of-age, competitive sports au, long distance tension, jealous but not toxic, mutual devotion, acts-of-service love language, emotional realism
themes — academic & athletic pressure, public life vs private love, insecurity, fear of growing apart, quiet love vs loud love, almost-breakup, reconciliation, choosing each other repeatedly, first love that refuses to end.
content warnings — miscommunication, jealousy (non-cheating), emotional burnout, minor injury (ankle strain), fever from exhaustion, family health scare (grandmother hospitalization), public scrutiny/media attention, temporary breakup, crying (a lot), emotional vulnerability, insecurity in young love
no toxic manipulation / no cheating / no physical abuse
rating — PG-13, romantic tension, kissing, soft physical intimacy, suggestive undertones (but nothing explicit)
status — ongoing / canon-divergent school AU
But because something had shifted.
Hayun was still sitting on the floor when her stomach betrayed her with a soft, humiliating growl.
Juhoon blinked.
She blinked.
And for the first time since he walked in—
She looked embarrassed instead of guarded.
“I skipped dinner,” she muttered.
His brows furrowed instantly. “Why.”
She shrugged slightly. “Didn’t feel like eating.”
That answer didn’t sit well with him.
He stood up without hesitation and held out his hands.
“Come on.”
“I can walk.”
“No.”
Her lips twitched faintly.
“I can.”
“You won’t.”
Before she could argue further, he slipped one arm under her knees carefully and the other behind her back.
She gasped softly.
“Juhoon—”
“Ankle.”
“I can hop.”
“I’m not letting you.”
She didn’t fight him.
Didn’t pretend to be strong.
Her arms looped around his neck naturally.
And the familiarity of it—
The way she fit against him—
Made his chest ache.
He carried her out of the room slowly, careful with each step down the hallway.
The house staff froze slightly in surprise.
But no one said anything.
Because this—
This looked like something they had seen before.
In the staircase mirror, she caught their reflection.
His jaw set.
His hold firm.
Her head resting lightly against his shoulder.
It felt… right.
Too right to be broken.
They reached the dining hall.
Her mother looked up first.
Surprised.
Then relieved.
Her father didn’t comment.
Just nodded once at Juhoon.
Hayun insisted he sit beside her.
Not across.
Beside.
Close enough that their arms brushed.
Breakfast was simple but warm.
Rice porridge.
Steamed vegetables.
Eggs.
Fresh fruit.
Juhoon poured water for her without being asked.
Pushed the bowl closer when she hesitated.
“Eat.”
She rolled her eyes slightly.
“Yes, husband.”
He choked on his water.
Her parents pretended not to hear.
But her mother smiled faintly.
He watched her take the first spoonful carefully.
His shoulders finally loosened.
Because she was eating.
Because she was here.
Because she hadn’t told him to leave.
After a few quiet minutes, her parents excused themselves politely.
Leaving them alone at the table.
She nudged his arm slightly.
“You didn’t sleep.”
“You didn’t either.”
She couldn’t argue that.
Silence settled again—but it wasn’t sharp anymore.
It was soft.
Familiar.
She set her spoon down suddenly.
He looked at her.
“What.”
She didn’t answer.
She just reached forward.
Grabbed his hoodie collar lightly.
And pulled him down.
Her lips met his before he could process it.
Not hesitant.
Not unsure.
Just sure.
It wasn’t a desperate kiss.
It wasn’t dramatic.
It was warm.
And grounding.
Her way of saying—
I’m still here.
He froze for half a second.
Then melted.
One hand instinctively cupped her jaw gently.
Careful.
Reverent.
When she pulled back, her cheeks were faintly pink.
“That’s my answer,” she murmured.
He stared at her.
“You didn’t say anything.”
“I don’t need to.”
His eyes softened in a way they hadn’t in days.
Relief flooding through him so visibly that she almost laughed.
He looked lighter.
Glowing, even.
Like someone had handed him oxygen again.
“You’re impossible,” he whispered.
“You love it.”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
Yes.
He leaned forward again this time.
Pressing a softer kiss to her forehead.
Then her cheek.
Then the corner of her lips.
Slow.
Careful.
Like he was relearning something precious.
She smiled against him.
“Don’t panic next time.”
“Don’t run next time.”
“Don’t hide things.”
“Don’t beg.”
They both huffed a tiny laugh.
Messy.
Imperfect.
Still figuring it out.
But together.
He stood up again when breakfast was done.
“I’m carrying you back upstairs.”
She crossed her arms.
“You’re obsessed with carrying me.”
“Yes.”
She didn’t fight it.
He lifted her again.
And this time—
When she rested her head against his chest—
It felt less like something fragile
and more like something chosen.
And Juhoon,
for the first time in days,
looked like a man
who had his wife back.
—
Later that afternoon, the house had quieted.
Her parents had left for meetings.
Coach Rami had texted strict reminders about icing and rest.
The sunlight had shifted warmer across her room.
Hayun was sitting on the edge of her bed now, ankle propped on a pillow like she was instructed. She had changed into a soft cropped knit top and loose sweatpants, hair falling naturally over her shoulders.
Juhoon sat behind her against the headboard, legs stretched out on either side of her hips.
Not possessive.
Just close.
His hands rested lightly at her waist.
Not gripping.
Just there.
Grounding.
He hadn’t let go of her much since breakfast.
She noticed.
“You’re quiet again,” she said softly.
“Thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
He huffed lightly against her shoulder.
They stayed like that for a moment.
Comfortable.
Her fingers traced absent circles over his forearm.
And then—
“I read the letter,” she said.
He didn’t stiffen.
Didn’t pull away.
But his thumb paused slightly where it rested against her waist.
“I know.”
“You heard them on the plane.”
“Yes.”
She shifted a little so she could look back at him.
His expression wasn’t angry.
Just thoughtful.
“You can ask,” she said.
He held her gaze for a few seconds before speaking.
“Did you like what he wrote?”
She didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
His jaw tightened slightly, but he nodded.
“Okay.”
She turned more fully now, facing him.
“It was sweet.”
“I know.”
“It was loud.”
He exhaled quietly.
“Yes.”
There was no accusation in his voice.
Just honesty.
She reached up and touched his cheek lightly.
“You’re jealous.”
“Yes.”
Again, no denial.
It made her chest ache in a different way.
“But not of him,” he added softly.
She blinked.
“Then what.”
“I’m jealous of how easily he said things.”
Her fingers stilled.
He looked down briefly before continuing.
“I’ve loved you for two years. And he wrote more clearly in one page than I’ve ever said out loud.”
Her heart tightened.
“You don’t have to compete with that.”
“I know. But I don’t want you thinking I feel less just because I say less.”
She shifted closer instinctively, her knees brushing his.
“I never thought you felt less.”
“I thought you did.”
Silence.
Her hands slid gently to his shoulders.
“Juhoon.”
He looked at her fully now.
“I don’t need poetry,” she said softly. “I need you.”
His fingers tightened at her waist.
Not forceful.
Just emotional.
“You deserve both.”
She smiled faintly.
“Then learn.”
He huffed.
“I’m trying.”
“I know.”
There was something different about the way they were talking now.
Less defensive.
Less scared.
He let his forehead rest against hers.
“I hated hearing them read it.”
“I figured.”
“I hated that he told you not to carry everything alone.”
Her brows knit.
“Why.”
“Because that’s my job.”
She laughed softly.
“I’m not a burden.”
“I know.”
“But I want to be the one you lean on.”
Her fingers slid into his hair gently.
“You are.”
He swallowed.
“I don’t like other people offering to wait for you.”
“I didn’t ask him to.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not choosing him.”
“I know.”
He paused.
Then added quietly,
“But it scared me that I hesitated before blocking her.”
She looked at him carefully.
“That scared me too.”
He nodded.
“I won’t hesitate again.”
She believed him.
Not because he said it loudly.
But because he said it clearly.
Her hand slid down to his chest.
“You don’t have to outshine someone else to keep me.”
“I’m not trying to.”
“Then what are you trying to do.”
His hands slid a little higher at her waist, thumbs brushing gently along her sides.
“Stay.”
The word was simple.
Heavy.
True.
She leaned forward and kissed him.
Slow.
Not heated.
Not urgent.
Just… steady.
He responded softly, his hand moving to cradle the back of her head carefully.
When they parted, she stayed close.
“I don’t want loud from other people,” she whispered. “I want steady from you.”
His lips curved slightly.
“I can do steady.”
“You’re very good at steady.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
“I’ll get better at loud too.”
She smiled.
“That’s all I needed.”
They stayed wrapped around each other like that.
Not frantic.
Not desperate.
Just two people who had nearly lost something and didn’t want to repeat it.
His hands rested at her waist again, warm and protective.
Her fingers traced lazy patterns against his collarbone.
Outside her window, the city moved on.
Inside the room—
They weren’t perfect.
But they were choosing.
And this time—
They both knew it.
School felt different the first day back.
Not because people were whispering.
Not because of rumors.
But because senior year had begun quietly without asking if they were ready.
The corridors were louder. Lockers slammed. Teachers already discussing university applications and national selections.
Hayun walked slower than usual, ankle still wrapped neatly beneath her tights. Younghee carried her books without argument. Mina had already started drafting a senior year scrapbook “before everyone disappears.”
Juhoon walked on the opposite side of the hallway at first, surrounded by James and Martin, Seonghyeon beside him.
Not distant.
Just… thinking.
Transfer papers.
That word had been floating around all morning.
Busan National Youth Training Academy.
It wasn’t guaranteed for most students.
It wasn’t normal for seniors to leave mid-year.
But soccer didn’t care about senior year traditions.
Coach did.
Selectors did.
Scouts did.
Juhoon had the envelope in his bag.
So did Seonghyeon.
They hadn’t submitted them yet.
But they were close.
Hayun saw the paperwork once.
By accident.
A folder corner peeking out of his bag when he bent down to tie his shoe.
Her chest tightened.
She didn’t say anything.
She had flown across countries for competitions countless times.
She had left for weeks.
Months.
But this felt different.
Because this wasn’t temporary.
This wasn’t a tournament.
This was relocation.
Permanent enough to hurt.
That afternoon, they met near the bleachers after school.
The soccer field was half-empty.
Seonghyeon had left early to speak with the athletics coordinator.
Juhoon was sitting on the bench, staring at a form.
Hayun approached quietly.
He looked up immediately.
His face softened.
He made space for her without thinking.
She sat close.
Close enough that their shoulders touched.
“Is it final?” she asked softly.
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand.
“Almost.”
Her fingers twisted lightly in her skirt.
“How long.”
“Training rotation starts next month.”
“And after that.”
He exhaled.
“Depends on performance.”
She nodded slowly.
The sky was beginning to turn orange.
The field lights flickered on one by one.
“You should go,” she said.
He looked at her immediately.
“What.”
“It’s soccer.”
“I know.”
“You’ve wanted this since middle school.”
He studied her face carefully.
“You don’t sound okay.”
She forced a small smile.
“I am.”
He didn’t buy it.
“You travel all the time,” she continued. “It’s not like we haven’t done distance.”
He reached for her hand.
“Say what you’re actually thinking.”
She hesitated.
Then whispered—
“When I leave, I know I’m coming back to the same place.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“And this doesn’t feel like that.”
“No.”
Silence settled between them.
The weight of senior year.
University deadlines.
National teams.
Dreams that demanded sacrifice.
“I don’t want to resent you,” she admitted quietly.
He froze.
“You won’t.”
“I won’t,” she corrected. “But I’m scared of feeling replaced by your new world.”
He shifted closer.
“You won’t be.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“How.”
He turned fully toward her now.
Because this wasn’t something he could answer half-heartedly.
“Because there’s no version of my life where you’re not in it.”
Her throat tightened.
“But what if the version changes.”
“It will.”
She blinked.
He didn’t sugarcoat it.
“It has to.”
She looked at him carefully.
“You’re okay with that?”
“I’m not okay with losing you,” he said softly. “But I’m okay with us growing.”
She exhaled slowly.
“I don’t want to be the girl who holds you back.”
“You’re not.”
“I don’t want to be the girl who waits and wonders.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“You won’t.”
“How can you promise that.”
He looked at her again.
“Because I’m not leaving you behind. I’m asking you to walk with me.”
Her heart stuttered.
“You’ll be in Busan.”
“And you’ll be wherever competitions take you.”
“That’s different.”
“Is it?”
She went quiet.
He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear gently.
“You fly across countries for medals,” he said. “You think I can’t take a train to Seoul on weekends.”
Her lips trembled slightly.
“It won’t always be that easy.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you so calm.”
“I’m not calm.”
She almost smiled.
“You look calm.”
“I’m terrified.”
She blinked.
“Of what.”
“That one day you’ll get so big the world forgets I was ever there.”
Her chest softened.
“That’s stupid.”
“Probably.”
She nudged his shoulder lightly.
“You’re not invisible.”
“I feel like it sometimes.”
She turned fully toward him now.
“You’re not background music in my life.”
He looked at her carefully.
“You’re not mine either.”
Silence.
But not heavy.
Just real.
Seonghyeon jogged back across the field, waving the paperwork in the air.
“They want confirmation by Friday.”
Juhoon nodded once.
Hayun watched the way his posture straightened instinctively.
This was his world.
Just like ice was hers.
And suddenly—
The weird feeling in her chest wasn’t jealousy.
It was fear of change.
She stood slowly.
Ankle protesting slightly.
He noticed immediately.
“Careful.”
“I’m fine.”
He stood too.
They walked toward the exit together.
Hands brushing.
Not tightly holding.
Just touching.
Senior year had started.
Busan was coming.
And neither of them knew yet
how distance would feel
when it wasn’t measured in flight tickets
but in time.
But for now—
They were still side by side.
And that counted.
They weren’t distant.
That was the strange part.
If anything, Juhoon was closer than ever.
Too close.
In first period, he slid into the seat beside her before anyone else could. His knee pressed against hers under the desk and stayed there the entire class. When she reached for her pen, he was already handing it to her. When she shifted slightly because of her ankle, his hand automatically moved to steady her waist.
He kept touching her.
Not in a desperate way.
In a grounding way.
Fingers laced with hers under the desk.
Thumb rubbing slow circles over her knuckles.
His palm resting at the small of her back whenever she stood.
It was subtle.
But constant.
During math, she felt his hand slip into hers again. She glanced sideways.
“You’re clingy,” she whispered.
“No.”
“You are.”
He didn’t deny it.
He just squeezed her hand slightly.
At lunch, he pulled her chair out before she even reached the table. James rolled his eyes dramatically.
“He’s insufferable now.”
Mina snorted. “Now?”
Younghee watched quietly, noticing the way Juhoon’s gaze never strayed far from Hayun. Even when Seonghyeon was talking about Busan housing arrangements, Juhoon’s hand remained hooked around Hayun’s waist.
It wasn’t insecurity.
It was… anchoring.
As if he was memorizing her in pieces.
Hayun felt it too.
The way he leaned closer than usual.
The way his fingers brushed her thigh under the table absentmindedly.
The way he rested his chin briefly on her shoulder when she laughed at something Diana said.
It felt warm.
And strange.
Because under all that closeness—
There was a ticking clock.
After school, they sat on the steps outside the auditorium. The senior prom committee poster had just gone up.
“Senior Aurora Gala – Final Year Celebration.”
Diana squealed immediately.
“Oh my God, themes.”
James groaned. “Another suit.”
Mina was already planning outfits.
Seonghyeon nudged Juhoon. “You’re not going.”
The words sat heavier than they should have.
Hayun stared at the poster quietly.
They had attended three proms together.
First one awkward and shy.
Second one where he held her waist all night.
Third one where he surprised her with lilies and posted it.
This would have been the fourth.
She swallowed.
“We won’t go together.”
Her voice was soft.
Not dramatic.
Just factual.
Juhoon didn’t respond immediately.
He was staring at the banner too.
“We could,” James said half-heartedly. “You could fly back.”
Seonghyeon shook his head. “Training camp won’t allow it.”
Silence.
Mina glanced between them.
“You guys basically own prom at this point.”
Hayun smiled faintly.
“I already have three dresses from previous years.”
“You could wear them again,” Diana offered.
“It’s not about the dress.”
Juhoon finally spoke.
“I know.”
She looked at him.
He didn’t look upset.
He looked… contained.
“I don’t like the idea of you going without me,” he admitted quietly.
“I don’t like the idea of you not being there.”
James tried to lighten the mood. “You two can FaceTime in formal wear.”
No one laughed.
Juhoon leaned closer to her.
“I feel worse,” he murmured so only she could hear.
“Why.”
“Because you always came back from competitions.”
She understood immediately.
Prom wasn’t a competition.
It was a milestone.
One he would miss.
She reached for his hand this time.
Interlaced their fingers tightly.
“It’s just one night.”
“I know.”
“But it feels like more.”
He nodded slowly.
“I wanted four.”
Her chest tightened at that.
She rested her head briefly against his shoulder.
“We had three.”
“I wanted the fourth.”
Younghee watched them quietly.
Not interfering.
Just observing.
Seonghyeon exhaled softly. “Busan sucks.”
Juhoon didn’t disagree.
Hayun looked up at him.
“We’ll have other things.”
“Like what.”
“Like when you score at nationals.”
He huffed faintly.
“That’s not prom.”
“No.”
She squeezed his hand.
“But it’s ours.”
He stared at her for a long moment.
Then leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her temple in front of everyone.
James made a gagging sound.
Mina threw a napkin at him.
“Let them be.”
Juhoon’s arm wrapped around Hayun’s shoulders instinctively.
He held her a little tighter than necessary.
And she let him.
They weren’t distant.
They weren’t fighting.
They weren’t broken.
But everything felt sharper now.
Every touch.
Every laugh.
Every casual moment.
Because they both knew—
Senior year wasn’t just ending.
It was changing them.
And this time—
They wouldn’t just be meeting back at the same place.
They would have to choose it.
Over and over again.
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a/n — aaah guys idk im not sure if im just prolonging the end atp but godd i love this couple so much and i really want to complete it asap so yeahh! pls understand if there are any mistakes
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𝐈𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 — Kim Juhoon
chapter twelve
pairing — soccer player!kim juhoon(cortis) × figure skater!jung hayun(oc)
genre — established relationship, high school sweethearts, angst with comfort, miscommunication, soft domestic intimacy, growing pains, coming-of-age, competitive sports au, long distance tension, jealous but not toxic, mutual devotion, acts-of-service love language, emotional realism
themes — academic & athletic pressure, public life vs private love, insecurity, fear of growing apart, quiet love vs loud love, almost-breakup, reconciliation, choosing each other repeatedly, first love that refuses to end.
content warnings — miscommunication, jealousy (non-cheating), emotional burnout, minor injury (ankle strain), fever from exhaustion, family health scare (grandmother hospitalization), public scrutiny/media attention, temporary breakup, crying (a lot), emotional vulnerability, insecurity in young love
no toxic manipulation / no cheating / no physical abuse
rating — PG-13, romantic tension, kissing, soft physical intimacy, suggestive undertones (but nothing explicit)
status — ongoing / canon-divergent school AU
The cabin lights dimmed slightly as the plane leveled out.
Osaka shrinking beneath the clouds.
Hayun sat by the window, ankle stretched carefully, medal tucked safely in her carry-on. The bouquet rested on her lap.
She hadn’t touched the envelope yet.
Younghee nudged her.
“You’re going to combust if you don’t open it.”
Hayun exhaled slowly.
“I shouldn’t.”
“You’re already holding it.”
That was true.
Her fingers slid under the flap.
The paper inside was thick.
Folded carefully.
When she unfolded it—
She immediately noticed the handwriting.
Uneven.
Some characters slightly crooked.
Hangul written carefully… but not naturally.
Her brows lifted.
“He wrote this himself?” she whispered.
Younghee leaned closer.
“He doesn’t speak Korean.”
Hayun started reading.
The first line alone made her inhale sharply.
“안녕하세요, 하윤.”
The spacing was slightly off.
The pen strokes hesitant.
But it was readable.
Younghee’s eyes widened.
“He tried.”
Hayun continued.
The grammar wasn’t perfect.
Some particles misplaced.
But the meaning—
Clear.
“I watched you skate and I think you are someone who shines even when she is tired. I do not know Korean well, so I practiced writing this many times. I hope you can forgive mistakes.”
Younghee slapped her thigh lightly.
“Oh my God.”
Hayun’s cheeks warmed.
She kept reading.
“I know you have someone important. I can see it in your eyes when you look into the crowd. But I also know that sometimes strong people feel alone. If you ever feel alone, I would like to be someone who listens. Not to replace anyone. Just to stand beside you.”
Younghee gasped.
“That is… bold.”
Hayun blinked rapidly.
The letter continued.
“You are not just a champion. You are brave. I respect you. And I will wait for the day you do not look over your shoulder when you smile.”
That line made her freeze.
Younghee physically grabbed her arm.
“Wait. Read that again.”
Hayun reread it silently.
Behind them—
Mina leaned forward.
“What? What did he say?”
Younghee turned dramatically.
“Give it.”
Hayun hesitated—
Then handed the paper back.
Mina and Diana leaned over their seats immediately.
And then—
A squeal.
Loud.
Uncontained.
Passengers nearby glanced over.
Diana covered her mouth.
“He wrote this in Korean?”
“Yes!”
“He practiced!”
“He said he’ll wait?!”
The squealing intensified.
Across the aisle—
James’ head snapped up.
“What is happening.”
Seonghyeon leaned over.
“Why are they screaming.”
Keonho blinked.
“Is she injured again?”
Mina was already half-standing, whisper-yelling.
“He wrote a confession letter in KOREAN.”
James’ mouth fell open.
“He doesn’t even speak Korean.”
Diana read one line out loud dramatically.
“‘I will wait for the day you do not look over your shoulder when you smile.’”
James clutched his chest.
“That is illegal.”
Seonghyeon leaned back slowly.
“Oh no.”
All eyes shifted instinctively—
Toward Juhoon.
He hadn’t turned around yet.
But he had heard.
Every word.
His fingers tightened around the armrest.
He kept his gaze forward.
Neutral.
Controlled.
Too controlled.
Martin watched him carefully.
“You okay.”
Juhoon nodded once.
“I’m fine.”
But his throat had gone dry.
Behind him, Mina kept reading.
“He said he doesn’t want to replace anyone but he wants to stand beside her.”
Diana gasped again.
“That’s respectful but threatening at the same time.”
Younghee leaned back into her seat beside Hayun, whispering low.
“You see why we squealed.”
Hayun stared at the letter in Mina’s hands.
Her heart wasn’t racing from romance.
It was racing from contrast.
Riki had written loudly.
Directly.
Clearly.
Without hesitation.
Juhoon—
Loved quietly.
Chose quietly.
Stayed quietly.
Her chest tightened.
Not because she was swayed.
But because the comparison was unavoidable.
Across the aisle, Juhoon finally turned his head slightly.
Just enough to see the paper in Mina’s hand.
Just enough to catch Hayun’s expression.
Not smiling.
Not glowing.
Just… conflicted.
Their eyes met for half a second.
And in that second—
He understood something painful.
If he had written a letter—
He wouldn’t have known how to start.
The girls were still whispering excitedly.
Mina leaned over again.
“Are you going to reply?”
Hayun swallowed.
“I don’t know.”
Younghee studied her carefully.
“You don’t like him like that.”
It wasn’t a question.
Hayun shook her head slowly.
“No.”
“But?”
Hayun looked down at the letter again.
“But he’s not afraid to say things.”
The cabin fell quieter again.
The boys didn’t tease.
Didn’t interrupt.
Because even from across the aisle—
They could feel it.
This wasn’t just about a letter.
It was about what was missing.
Juhoon looked forward again.
Osaka disappearing beneath clouds.
Seoul waiting.
Busan waiting.
And for the first time—
He wondered if loving quietly
had been his biggest mistake.
The flight felt longer on the way back.
Not because of turbulence.
But because nothing felt settled.
When they landed in Seoul, the cold air hit differently.
Familiar.
Grounding.
Heavy.
Phones turned back on almost instantly once the plane taxied.
Notifications flooded in.
Congratulations posts.
News articles.
Fan edits already circulating.
Hayun’s name was everywhere.
Juhoon didn’t scroll long.
He opened Instagram first.
He didn’t delete anything.
He didn’t archive anything.
Every photo of her stayed.
Every story highlight.
Every candid.
Every “My heart ❤️.”
He couldn’t bring himself to erase two years of proof.
But—
He removed his profile picture.
Just a blank grey silhouette.
It wasn’t dramatic.
It wasn’t announced.
But people noticed within minutes.
James texted immediately in the boys’ group chat.
James
why did you remove your dp
Juhoon
just felt like it.
Seonghyeon
bro.
Martin didn’t text.
He understood.
Across the plane aisle earlier, Hayun had noticed too.
She hadn’t reacted.
She opened her own Instagram briefly.
Her account was active again.
The Nationals post.
The internationals medal.
The dedicated post for Juhoon.
Everything still there.
She didn’t archive anything.
Didn’t delete the anniversary photos.
Didn’t remove his tags.
Didn’t unpin highlights.
She just let it be.
Because deleting felt louder than she was ready for.
And silence had always been their language.
—
At Incheon Airport, media had gathered again.
Not as chaotic as Osaka.
But present.
Cameras flashed when Hayun walked out.
Gold medal visible in her carry case.
Her father handled the press smoothly.
Coach Rami stood close.
Questions flew.
“Hayun, how does it feel to bring gold home?”
“Will you attend the Seoul gala next month?”
“Any message for your supporters?”
She answered politely.
Composed.
Smiling.
Juhoon stood with the boys a few steps behind.
Far enough to not be framed together.
Close enough to feel the separation.
Their friends were tense.
The girls stuck near Hayun.
The boys near Juhoon.
No one forced interaction.
No one bridged the gap.
When the luggage belts finally cleared and drivers arrived—
The groups naturally split.
Her parents’ car waiting.
His estate car waiting.
There was a moment.
A very small one.
When they stood a few feet apart near the parking lane.
Seoul air colder than Osaka’s harbor breeze.
Her hair tied loosely.
Ankle wrapped beneath jeans.
His hands in his jacket pockets.
Neither of them smiled.
Neither of them looked angry.
Just… careful.
She adjusted the strap of her bag.
He shifted his weight slightly.
Almost like he might speak.
But the driver opened the car door for her.
Her mother called softly, “Hayun.”
She looked at him once.
Not long.
Not dramatic.
Just enough.
He gave the smallest nod.
Not goodbye.
Not stay.
Just acknowledgement.
She got into the car.
Door shut gently.
The engine started.
Juhoon watched the taillights fade into traffic.
Then got into his own car without a word.
The city swallowed them separately.
On Instagram—
Nothing changed.
Photos remained.
Memories remained.
Proof remained.
Only one blank profile picture.
And the quiet understanding
that sometimes
the hardest part of breaking up
is that nothing disappears immediately.
Everything just
stays.
Seoul – Next Morning.
The field felt normal.
Too normal.
Early fog still hanging low over the grass. Cones lined in perfect rows. The sound of cleats hitting turf sharp and rhythmic.
Juhoon ran drills like nothing had changed.
Short passes.
Sprints.
Controlled touches.
Silent.
Seonghyeon noticed immediately.
He wasn’t missing shots.
He wasn’t distracted.
He was mechanical.
Which was worse.
James and Martin stood near the sideline, pretending to stretch while watching him.
“He’s running like he’s trying to outrun something,” James muttered.
Martin didn’t reply.
Across the track field, Keonho had already left for swimming lessons.
It was just the four of them.
The morning was quiet—
Until two familiar figures appeared near the entrance gate.
Seonghyeon noticed first.
“…Why are they here?”
Younghee.
Mina.
Each holding two large boxes.
Four total.
Brown.
Carefully taped.
Heavy.
Seonghyeon blinked.
“Is that—”
James followed his gaze.
“Oh.”
Martin’s stomach dropped instantly.
“Oh no.”
Juhoon didn’t look up at first.
He was lining up for another sprint when Seonghyeon stepped in front of him.
“Uh.”
Juhoon glanced over.
Saw them.
And for the first time since Osaka—
His composure slipped.
He didn’t move.
Younghee walked onto the edge of the field with steady steps.
Mina slightly behind her.
Neither smiling.
Neither hostile.
Just… solemn.
The boys gathered slowly near the sideline.
James scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.
“Hey.”
Mina didn’t greet him.
She just set the boxes down gently on the grass.
One by one.
Four dull thuds.
Juhoon walked over slowly.
His heartbeat felt louder than the field noise.
Younghee spoke first.
“She asked us to bring these.”
His throat tightened.
He already knew.
But he still asked.
“What is it.”
Mina swallowed.
“Everything.”
The word hit heavier than the boxes.
Juhoon crouched slowly.
Hands hovering over the top one.
Didn’t open it yet.
Just stared.
Younghee’s voice was even.
“She said it’s not fair to keep them.”
James muttered softly, “You don’t have to do this.”
Younghee’s eyes flicked to him sharply.
“We’re not doing anything. She is.”
Juhoon finally lifted the lid of the first box.
The smell hit first.
Dried flowers.
Paper.
Time.
Inside—
Carefully stacked bundles of pressed flower petals.
Each separated in labeled envelopes.
“First bouquet – Winter Festival.”
“Nationals 1st Gold.”
“Two years, six months.”
His breath caught.
Mina’s voice wavered slightly despite herself.
“She pressed every petal.”
Juhoon’s fingers brushed one envelope.
There were dozens.
Petals flattened between parchment sheets.
Dated.
Organized.
James stared.
“She kept all of that?”
Younghee nodded once.
“She thought she’d use them someday.”
Juhoon didn’t ask for what.
He knew.
Wedding resin art.
Keepsake frames.
Something permanent.
The second box.
Folded hoodies.
His hoodies.
The oversized grey one she stole constantly.
The navy one from the Aurora Festival.
The black one he wore when he first visited her academy before regionals.
Each washed.
Folded carefully.
On top—
A Polaroid.
Her asleep on his chest.
He closed his eyes briefly.
The third box.
Letters.
Dozens.
Some from him.
Some from her.
Birthday cards.
Anniversary notes.
Sticky notes he’d left in her locker.
The first scribbled confession draft he had crumpled and given her anyway.
Even the tiny paper napkin from the café where he first asked her to be his girlfriend.
Mina’s voice cracked.
“She kept the napkin.”
Seonghyeon swore under his breath quietly.
The fourth box.
Smaller items.
Bracelet he had bought her at a roadside stall.
Movie tickets from their first cinema date.
A tiny keychain shaped like a soccer ball.
The silver hair clip he’d given her before Nationals.
The ring box from their second anniversary — not a proposal ring, but a promise band.
Even that.
All of it.
Juhoon felt something collapse inside his chest.
“She said…” Younghee paused briefly.
“She said she doesn’t want to hold onto things that will make her hesitate.”
Mina looked away, blinking rapidly.
“And she said returning them doesn’t erase it.”
Silence swallowed the field.
The boys had nothing to say.
What do you say to four boxes of proof that someone loved you deeply.
Juhoon finally spoke.
“…Did she open Riki’s letter.”
Younghee met his gaze directly.
“Yes.”
The word didn’t stab.
It just settled.
He nodded once.
He didn’t ask anything else.
Younghee stepped back slightly.
“That’s all.”
Mina added softly, “Her ankle’s worse than she’s admitting.”
That made his fingers tighten on the box lid.
“She won’t show it.”
Juhoon nodded.
“I know.”
Younghee looked at him carefully.
“She’s not heartless.”
“I know.”
“She’s hurt.”
“I know.”
Mina wiped at her eyes quickly.
“We didn’t want to do this.”
Juhoon finally looked up at them.
“I know.”
No anger.
No accusations.
Just quiet devastation.
The girls left without lingering.
Four boxes remained on the edge of the soccer field.
The morning sun had risen higher now.
Practice whistles resumed faintly in the distance.
Juhoon sat down on the grass beside the boxes.
Didn’t cry.
Didn’t speak.
Just stared at the pressed petals.
James sat beside him slowly.
“…Bro.”
No response.
Martin crouched on the other side.
“You don’t have to give them back.”
Juhoon’s voice was barely audible.
“She already did.”
Seonghyeon exhaled heavily.
For the first time since they were kids—
Juhoon looked small.
Not composed.
Not steady.
Just seventeen.
With four boxes of a love
that had once felt permanent.
The Kim estate was quiet when Juhoon returned.
Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that makes footsteps echo louder than they should.
The driver carried two of the boxes. Juhoon carried the other two himself.
He didn’t let the staff take them upstairs.
His room door closed softly behind him.
And suddenly—
Everything was her.
His room had never been minimalist.
Not since she started existing in it.
On the wall opposite his bed was a framed photograph from last year’s prom — Hayun in soft lavender, him in a black suit, her hand resting lightly on his arm, both of them laughing at something off-camera.
Above his desk, a small corkboard.
Pinned Polaroids.
Her in training gear, hair messy and smiling mid-laugh.
Her asleep in the passenger seat of his car.
Her holding shaved ice at the summer festival.
A blurry candid he took when she was tying her skates.
On his bookshelf—
A small porcelain swan she once bought because “it reminded her of clean landings.”
A concert ticket tucked into a book he never finished.
A ribbon she had taken off after regionals and left there.
Even his wardrobe wasn’t untouched.
The space where her spare hoodie used to hang felt… hollow.
He set the four boxes down carefully at the foot of his bed.
Didn’t open them again.
Just sat on the edge of the mattress.
From here, he could see the corner of his mirror.
A photo strip was taped along its frame.
Four tiny squares.
- Her serious face.
- Him pretending to pout.
- Her laughing.
- Him kissing her cheek unexpectedly.
He stood slowly.
Walked to the desk.
Opened the drawer.
Inside—
He had things too.
The bracelet she made for him at a school fair.
A pressed cherry blossom petal she slipped into his wallet.
A sticky note that read: “Drink water, idiot.”
He had never thought to return any of it.
Because he never imagined needing to.
He walked back to the boxes.
Opened the first one again.
The envelopes of petals were organized meticulously.
Each labeled in her handwriting.
Her small rounded letters.
Dates.
Occasions.
He picked up one.
“First time he brought lilies to academy.”
His chest tightened.
He remembered that day.
She had complained that white lilies were “too serious.”
And then kept every petal anyway.
He set it back carefully.
Moved to the second box.
His hoodies.
He lifted the grey one.
Brought it to his face unconsciously.
It still faintly smelled like her shampoo.
He closed his eyes.
The third box—
Letters.
He unfolded one at random.
It was hers.
Short.
Messy.
From two years ago.
“I think you’re too quiet but I like that you choose me without talking.”
His breath hitched.
Choose me without talking.
He sank down onto the floor beside the bed.
Back resting against the mattress.
Surrounded by proof.
The room felt smaller.
Because every corner reminded him of her.
The spot by the window where she liked to sit cross-legged and scroll through playlists.
The rug where she’d lie down dramatically after long days and complain about Coach Rami.
The desk chair she’d spin on absentmindedly.
The exact side of the bed she’d claimed as hers whenever she stayed late studying.
Even the light switch had a tiny heart sticker she placed there jokingly once.
He had never removed it.
He stared at it now.
He didn’t cry loudly.
Didn’t collapse.
But his breathing changed.
Slower.
Heavier.
The estate staff moved quietly outside his door, sensing something off.
His phone buzzed once.
A message from his soccer coach confirming Busan training schedule.
He didn’t open it.
He lay back on the floor instead.
Staring at the ceiling.
The framed prom photo visible from this angle.
Two years.
And now—
Four boxes at the foot of his bed.
He reached up blindly and grabbed his phone.
Opened Instagram again.
Scrolled through his own feed.
Hayun smiling.
Hayun skating.
Hayun asleep on his shoulder.
He didn’t delete anything.
He couldn’t.
Because deleting felt like pretending it hadn’t happened.
And it had.
Every petal.
Every hoodie.
Every letter.
He turned onto his side finally.
Facing the boxes.
And whispered to the quiet room—
“I did choose you.”
But the room didn’t answer.
It just held the echo
of someone
who wasn’t there anymore.
The decision came before sunrise.
Not dramatic.
Not cinematic.
Just a quiet, solid shift in his chest.
Juhoon hadn’t slept much.
He had laid there staring at the ceiling until the sky turned pale through his curtains.
And sometime between 4:12 a.m. and 5:03 a.m.—
He stopped thinking about pride.
Stopped thinking about who said what first.
Stopped thinking about breaks.
He only thought about one thing.
Her.
Not the champion.
Not the headline.
Not the gold medalist.
Her.
The girl who pressed flower petals because she thought one day she’d walk down an aisle.
The girl who stole his hoodies and left notes in his books.
The girl who asked to be chosen loudly.
He sat up.
Ran a hand over his face.
And whispered into the empty room—
“I’m not letting this end like this.”
He didn’t text.
Didn’t call.
He changed quickly into a hoodie and joggers, laced his shoes, and left before the estate fully woke.
The morning air was cold.
Seoul still quiet.
He jogged the familiar route to her house like muscle memory.
Past the café.
Past the academy turn.
Past the tree where she once slipped on ice and blamed him.
Her mansion gates came into view.
Security recognized him instantly.
They hesitated.
But they didn’t stop him.
He wasn’t a stranger.
He had walked through these gates a hundred times before.
The main doors opened when he rang.
One of the senior housemaids blinked in surprise.
“Master Juhoon.”
“Is she here?”
“Yes.”
“Can I see her?”
A pause.
“She is resting.”
“I need to see her.”
His voice wasn’t loud.
But it wasn’t asking for permission either.
The maid studied him carefully.
Then stepped aside.
“She is in her room.”
The hallway felt familiar.
Too familiar.
His heart pounded as he climbed the stairs.
Her door was slightly open.
He knocked once.
No answer.
He pushed gently.
The sight stopped him.
She was on the floor.
Sitting cross-legged carefully on a soft rug.
Ankle heavily bandaged.
Hair tied loosely.
Sweatshirt oversized.
Her room half-rearranged around her.
Open boxes scattered.
Not his boxes.
Her own.
She was reorganizing.
Photographs stacked in piles.
Frames removed from walls.
A corkboard half-empty.
Her movements slow because of the ankle.
She didn’t notice him immediately.
She was too focused on carefully removing tape from a picture frame.
It was one of them.
The Aurora Festival.
Him with his arm around her waist.
Fireworks behind.
She peeled it off gently.
Set it in a stack.
Then she looked up.
And saw him.
They froze.
He hadn’t realized how much he missed seeing her in her own space.
The sunlight falling across her bed.
The soft curtains she loved.
The faint scent of her shampoo in the air.
Her expression changed slowly.
Surprise first.
Then something guarded.
“What are you doing here?” she asked quietly.
He stepped fully inside.
Closed the door behind him.
“I came to fix it.”
Silence.
Her fingers tightened around the edge of a photo.
“You can’t just jog over and fix things.”
“I know.”
“Then what.”
He stepped closer.
Careful not to trip over the scattered frames.
“I panicked.”
She didn’t respond.
“I thought space would protect us.”
“You were wrong.”
“I know.”
Her throat tightened slightly at how easily he said it.
He looked around the room.
At the empty spaces on her wall.
“You’re taking them down.”
“Yes.”
“Why.”
“Because I can’t heal if everything is still staring at me.”
That hurt.
But he nodded.
“That’s fair.”
She didn’t expect that answer.
He moved closer.
Slowly.
Stopped a few feet away.
“I should’ve blocked Yerin.”
She didn’t look at him.
“I did this morning.”
Her head snapped up.
“What.”
“I blocked her.”
Her chest tightened.
“After everything?”
“Yes.”
“You should’ve done it before.”
“I know.”
The words were steady.
Not defensive.
“I didn’t think it mattered because I didn’t care about her.”
She swallowed.
“But you cared about not making it messy.”
“Yes.”
“And that hurt me.”
“I know.”
Silence settled again.
The sunlight shifted slightly.
He noticed the bandage on her ankle.
“You shouldn’t be sitting like that.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
He crouched slowly in front of her without asking.
Close enough to see faint dark circles under her eyes.
Close enough to notice she had cried again recently.
“I’m not asking for a break,” he said quietly.
She didn’t interrupt.
“I don’t want space.”
“Then why did you say it.”
“Because I was scared of losing you slowly.”
“And now?”
“Now I’d rather fight for you loudly than lose you quietly.”
Her breath caught slightly.
He leaned forward just a bit.
“I’m leaving for Busan next week.”
“I know.”
“It’s going to be hard.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want you shrinking yourself.”
“I won’t.”
“I don’t want to choose silence anymore.”
She looked at him fully now.
“And can you?”
He didn’t hesitate this time.
“I’ll learn.”
That wasn’t poetic.
It wasn’t perfect.
But it was honest.
Her voice trembled slightly.
“You hurt me.”
“I know.”
“I felt like I was begging to be kept.”
His jaw tightened.
“I never wanted you to beg.”
“But I did.”
Silence.
He lowered his voice.
“I’m sorry.”
She blinked.
Because he rarely said that first.
“I don’t want to be someone you have to convince to love you,” he continued.
“You never were.”
“Then I need to show it better.”
Her fingers loosened around the photo frame.
The room felt smaller.
More intimate.
He reached forward slowly.
Not touching her yet.
Just close.
“Let me fix this.”
“You can’t erase it.”
“I’m not trying to erase it.”
“Then what.”
“I’m trying to rebuild it.”
She stared at him.
Bandaged ankle.
Half-empty walls.
Stack of memories beside her.
“Why,” she whispered.
His answer came without pause.
“Because you’re my girl.”
Her breath hitched.
He softened slightly.
“And I’m not done.”
The room went quiet again.
Outside, morning traffic began faintly in the distance.
She looked down at the photo in her hand.
Then back at him.
Still kneeling.
Still steady.
Still choosing.
And for the first time since Osaka—
The possibility of fixing it
didn’t feel impossible.
But she hadn’t said yes.
Not yet.
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author’s note — blehh wasnt trying to make their fight prolong but welp more hurdles are coming! but im not too hard on them dw and the ending has already been set so yeah if i dont have any change of mind thenn we’ll go through with that ending but gahh editing is making me so tired, but anyways tysm for reading and please do lmk what you think!
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AHN KEONHO (안건호)
I will be making various parts for this as tumblr has a limit for how many characters you can put.. anyway, I’m a new writer I’m sorry if any wording is wrong !
WARNING : this includes sensitive topics such as suicide, self harming, and is recommended not to be read by people under the age of 13. EVERYTHING IN THIS IS PURE FICTIONAL, DON’T TAKE IT TO HEART
|།ིྀ STORY DESCRIPTION ═══════════════════════════════════════════ High school student Keonho. His whole life, he’s been living in a world full of gray, and when a certain someone came into his life, his gray world became blue. but because of their lack of experience (as teenagers), they’re venturing to figure out the best way to build their relationship [KEONHO x Fem READER]
|།ིྀ CHARACTER INTRODUCTION ═══════════════════════════════════════════
Ahn Keonho : He is 17 years old, He thought his life felt boring, back to back and so he was considering to end it until he met someone who made a big change into his life as the story progresses, he comes from a wealthy family, even though he has the looks and all, he has never really gotten in a proper relationship. He’s a sometimes cheerful sometimes moody boy, though he’s mostly moody he does like to talk to some people who piques his interests, he’s sarcastic most of the time yet hates being teased.
Fem READER : She is the same age as Keonho, yet a grade above Keonho. She comes from a modern family who well makes just enough to get through life, and has had some relationships before, though she never got into a good one. Fem READER has a cheerful and cunning personality, she likes to tease people but she knows her limits.
The sun emerged, the light slipped into the room, it was a peaceful morning scene until - “BEEP BEEP!!” his alarm set off, once or twice.
He groaned, “Fucking hell..” the bed rustled, he aggressively turned his alarm off, he sat up and looked at his phone, 9:45 on a Sunday morning.
He looked at his notifications, nothing new, just uninteresting messages from his classmates asking to hang out, in which he always rejected by making excuses of being busy or his parents prohibiting him to do so, but in reality, he really is just a homebody.
After a few minutes, he finally got the motivation to stand up and freshen up himself, he opened the curtain and covered his eyes with his hand as the sun started shining bright right into his eyes.
He sighed and debated if he should go back to sleep or go on with his day.. when suddenly, he saw moving trucks pass by his house which piqued his interest.
He decided to go and see the situation outside.
He quickly went to his closet and put on casual clothing, after doing so, he then rushed downstairs.
His rushed footsteps echoed as he descends down the stairs.
His mother, hearing this, had a concerned look on her face, thinking her son was going through something.
Then, he finally arrived to the living room.
“Morning mom.. uhh, do you have any idea who’s causing the moving trucks and all that?” He says, his mother responded, “Mmm.. moving trucks..” His mom thought for a second, then she remembered, “Oh! it’s our new neighbour. I’m pretty sure it’s a family.. I spoke to the mother and she was really kind. I think she said she has one child, perhaps you can be friends with them, sweetie?”
Keonho’s eyes perked up at the mention of friends, he always liked meeting and getting to know new people, though he gets lazy at the thought of spending time with them.
After breakfast with his mom, he went to the garage and took his skateboard out.
He suddenly remembered about his earphones, he quickly rushed to his room and grabbed them with him.
He passed by the closet mirror and then walked back to look at himself. “Huh, I should change my clothes. I’d rather be caught dead than caught using this shit in public.” He then puts on proper clothes - White shirt with a red jersey that had a soccer ball printed in.
“Alright, that’s better” He looked at the mirror again, he smirked and complimented himself “Fuck, you look fine as hell man”
Afterwards, he grabbed his phone and shoved it into his pocket, putting his earphones on and put his playlist on shuffle, mixing genres of rock, pop, r&b and any other genres you can think of to go on with his day.
He got out of the house and started skating around the neighbourhood, trying to find the moving trucks he saw 30 minutes ago, during his ride, he stumbles upon some crowd of kids in a certain house a few blocks away from his, he got closer and saw the same moving truck, “Target found..”
I will release chapter two as soon as I can I promise……. I’m sorry if this included Keonho’s side more than reader side view !! I tried to make this short as possible to be able to post it !