Chapter Text
Seonghyeon opened his locker and sighed the moment he saw a small red note flutter onto the floor. Another one. Of course. Seonghyeon exhaled quietly through his nose, already reaching for it. He didn’t need to look at it to know what it would say. He had seen enough of them to recognise the pattern.
They always started the same way. They always ended the same way. The only differences were the handwriting, the wording, and sometimes the colour of the paper. Yet, all of them contained the same emptiness. His hand moved on autopilot toward the bin beside his locker.
“Are you seriously going to throw it away again without even looking?”
He paused. Martin’s voice was distinct enough that he didn’t have to look to know who it was. Not like others would dare talk to him in that tone anyway. His words were threaded with amusement, but there was an edge to them.
Seonghyeon glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. Martin was leaning against his locker, arms crossed loosely, watching him with a small smile on his face.
“It’s the same,” Seonghyeon said. It always was.
Martin tilted his head, mirroring his expression by lifting one eyebrow. “How would you know? You haven’t read it.”
“I don’t need to.”
Seonghyeon had opened enough of them before to know that whatever was written inside would not be anything new. Sometimes it was just a phone number. I like you. You’re handsome. Please go out with me. Words that sounded like compliments at first glance but fell apart the moment he looked at them properly.
None of them actually had anything to do with him. Not really. They were about what people saw. Namely, his looks and the cold demeanour that had earned him the title of the school’s ‘Ice Prince’. No one bothered to interact with him properly, knowing he would turn them down anyway.
Martin watched him for a second longer, then let out a small breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Martin hyung, it’s in the shape of a fucking love heart,” Seonghyeon deadpanned.
The blond straightened, uncrossing his arms. “Just check it, Seonghyeon. One time. If it’s the same, then you can throw it away like you always do. You won’t lose anything.”
Seonghyeon looked down at the note again. It was light, barely weighed anything in the palm of his hand. It didn’t look any different from the others he had received. There was nothing about it that suggested it would be worth the effort.
It would be easier to drop it into the trash, not think about it, and move on with his day. So, he didn’t know why he hesitated. Maybe because Martin was still standing there watching him expectantly. Maybe because it would take less than a second to prove himself right.
He rolled his eyes and turned the paper over. Seonghyeon’s eyes moved across the words. And stopped. He blinked, furrowing his brows. Much to his dismay, Martin was right. It was nothing like what he had expected. There was no name. No request. No confession. No attempt to reach for something from him.
Unable to believe his eyes, he read it again. Slower this time so he could actually digest what was written on the small note. It confused him. The words didn’t feel like someone was standing in front of him, waiting for a response.
He didn’t understand. People didn’t write like this. Not to him. Not when they want something. And they always want something. That was the point, wasn’t it? Why would you give something to someone if you didn’t expect something back?
Seonghyeon’s gaze focused on the last line.
love, ♡
He frowned, turning the paper over again, inspecting it once more to confirm that there was indeed no name. There was no way for him to trace it back to someone, to place it with a face, a voice, an expectation, anything.
“Oh?” Martin’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Not the same?”
Seonghyeon glared at him. “Are you psychic or some shit?”
Martin laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m just saving the cleaners from having to sort through an additional piece of paper in the trash.”
His hand hovered briefly over the bin, tempted to throw it away just to rub it in Martin’s face. But he pulled it back. Martin watched the movement, a small, infuriating smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, though he didn’t say anything this time.
Seonghyeon flipped him off before carefully placing the small heart in his jacket pocket.
“It’s nothing,” Seonghyeon said.
Martin hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Seonghyeon.”
❄️
Juhoon hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He genuinely wasn’t that type of person. He had been halfway through digging through his bag for the homework he was convinced he had packed, while thinking about whether Keonho had actually eaten anything that morning or if he had just pretended to again, when something familiar caught his eye. Or rather, someone.
Seonghyeon and Martin. They were at their lockers and close enough that Juhoon could see exactly what was going on without being too obvious about staring. It was a habit at this point for students at their school to be aware of Seonghyeon’s presence. However, where most people did it out of caution, Juhoon was more on the curious side.
Seonghyeon stood in front of his locker, posture straight, expression as unreadable as ever. Martin was next to him, yapping away. Nothing out of the ordinary. But then he noticed what was in Seonghyeon’s hand.
A small piece of red paper. It stood out against the muted colours of everything else, bright enough to catch the eye even from a distance. There was something about the paper that felt so familiar, but he couldn’t quite place a finger on it.
All he knew was that it was another letter. Juhoon almost scoffed under his breath. Of course it was. People never learned, huh?
Someone would leave something in Seonghyeon’s locker, thinking they would be different, thinking their words would be enough. And every single time, it ended the same way. Seonghyeon didn’t even bother reading them half the time.
Juhoon had seen it happen before. Everyone had. From letters left in lockers, slipped between books, to sometimes even being handed over directly, only to be rejected with the same indifference. He watched Seonghyeon’s hand move towards the bin and was already preparing to look away because there was nothing new to see here.
But then he paused. Seonghyeon didn’t throw it away. Juhoon couldn’t hide the surprise on his face. That was new. He stayed where he was, pretending to be still searching his bag as he watched from the corner of his eye. Seonghyeon was actually reading the note, his gaze fixed on it for much longer than Juhoon expected.
Juhoon’s eyes narrowed as he watched Seonghyeon read it, then read it once more. The way Seonghyeon handled the note was weirdly careful, nothing like the carelessly crumpled letters that usually ended up in the trash without a second thought. He couldn’t believe his own eyes.
Then Seonghyeon’s hand moved toward the bin again. Juhoon almost rolled his eyes because there it was. Back to normal. Of course, he wasn’t going to—what the fuck? Seonghyeon didn’t drop it. Juhoon stared in disbelief as Seonghyeon slid the folded paper into his jacket pocket like it was something he intended to keep.
Eom Seonghyeon kept a letter.
Juhoon let out a quiet breath, a huff of incredulity and a hint of amusement. Well. That was interesting to say the least. Martin looked insufferably pleased beside him, which only confirmed that whatever was written in that note was not the usual nonsense.
After the two walked away, Juhoon gave up pretty quickly on searching for his homework—he had probably misplaced it somewhere at home—and picked up his pace so he could make up for some of the time he had spent outside of class. It was one he shared with Keonho, and the younger boy looked up the moment he returned with a pout on his face.
“What took you so long?” Keonho’s gaze moved to Juhoon’s empty hands. “Juhoon hyung, don’t tell me you plan on using Choco as an excuse again. The whole ‘sorry, my pet turtle ate my homework’ won’t always work, you know.”
“I think I left it at home, but that’s not important right now.” Keonho raised an eyebrow but remained silent, so Juhoon continued, “You won’t believe what I just saw.”
Keonho blinked at him. “What happened?”
“Eom Seonghyeon,” he started, watching closely for a reaction, “just got another letter.”
Keonho’s expression didn’t change much. “Okay? That’s not exactly shocking.”
“No, listen,” Juhoon cut in, a little more insistent now. “He read it.”
The younger one froze. “He what?”
“Seonghyeon read it,” Juhoon repeated. “Like, he actually bothered to take the time to read whatever was written on that paper.”
Keonho’s lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something, but nothing came out.
Juhoon continued, “And that’s not even the weird part.”
Keonho swallowed, the motion a little too deliberate, reminding him of the uncomfortable dryness in his throat. “There’s more?”
“He kept it.”
For a second, he genuinely thought he had misheard. “He what?”
Juhoon let out a short laugh, still sounding disbelieving himself. “Seonghyeon kept it. He folded it and put it in his pocket.”
Keonho stared at him, trying to read Juhoon’s face for any sign of a joke. “You’re lying,” he said quietly.
“I’m not,” Juhoon shot back immediately. “I saw it with my own two eyes.”
He couldn’t think straight for two reasons. One: his immune system genuinely sucked, and his head was hurting. Two: there was possibility that Seonghyeon had kept his letter.
“Keonho?” Juhoon’s voice pulled him back.
Keonho shook his head, slowly to avoid the dizziness that would follow, before forcing himself to look up. “Yeah?”
Juhoon had a frown on his face as he stared at the younger one. “You okay? You look even worse now.”
“I’m fine,” Keonho reassured.
Juhoon didn’t look convinced, but the bell rang before he could press further. Saved by the bell. Keonho let out a sigh of relief when Juhoon turned away from him. He couldn’t let his best friend find out, or else he would be cooked alive.
But there was also something else on his hazy mind. Seonghyeon. The Ice Prince of their school. The one who had younger students purposefully moving to the other side of the hallway to avoid him. The one who rejected people without hesitation. The same person who had shaken up his heart with one smile.
❄️
Ahn Keonho was delusional as fuck. It might have been the sickness that he was determined to get over without taking medication, or it might have been his traitorous heart that fell impossibly harder for Eom Seonghyeon after seeing him smile.
It was stupid, really. But there was something about that smile that made his insides all warm and gooey like melted chocolate. And Keonho had decided that—fueled by the delusion from the chance that Seonghyeon, for whatever reason, had read and kept his note—he wanted to be the reason Seonghyeon smiled.
That’s exactly why the very next day—now sniffling because he was stubborn and the cold had escalated to a stuffy, runny nose—he stood in front of his locker with another heart-shaped note in his hand. The small paper was bright against the tan skin of his hand, the corners now a little worn from the nervous fidgeting he couldn’t seem to stop.
Keonho had rewritten it three times. The first one felt way too obvious, like he was pointing directly at that moment in the hallway, and it made him feel like some creepy stalker. The next one sounded strange and way too formal for what he was trying to convey. The final version he had decided on sat somewhere in between, not too direct, but also not too vague.
i didn’t know something so small could feel so warm,
but your smile stayed with me longer than i expected.
love, ♡
His head still felt heavy with that dull pressure behind his eyes, but it was much more manageable than yesterday. Keonho would argue that a blocked nose was worth the ability to think a bit more clearly. A group of students passed him, snapping him out of it. Keonho stiffened, curling his fingers over the note to hide it, even though no one was looking at him.
Right. He probably shouldn’t stand here too long, or else someone would notice. His gaze flickered to the hallway, searching. The lockers across from his were still closed. No sign of Seonghyeon, Martin, or Juhoon. Most students were in their lessons, but Keonho had a free period, so this was his chance.
The coast was clear. Keonho took a deep breath and approached the other row. His heart had already started beating fast and loud, like it was trying to make up for everything he couldn’t say out loud. He had spent an hour already convincing himself that this was fine. It didn’t matter if it got thrown away. It didn’t matter if Seonghyeon didn’t read it. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t sure who he was lying to.
Keonho stopped in front of the familiar locker and glanced around once more before he slipped the small heart through the narrow gap of the locker door. The paper disappeared inside easily, and he pulled his hand back immediately. Done. He rolled his shoulders back, fluffing up his hair as he retreated to the safety of his own locker.
The bell would ring, and class would end in a few minutes. He stood in the gap next to his and Juhoon’s lockers, leaning back against the wall as he waited, reminding himself to continue breathing so he wouldn’t pass out from how nervous he was. The only problem was that his heart wouldn’t calm down. It was beating abnormally fast, expectant, waiting for a reaction.
Every small sound felt amplified in the empty hallway. Keonho dug his fingers into the softness of his palm, pressing the nails in, trying to ground himself. He really wished that Juhoon was here with him because he would have definitely appreciated a distraction from the whirlwind of emotions he was currently going through.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Keonho’s head snapped up, thinking his prayers had been answered and Juhoon would—oh, fuck. It was Seonghyeon. And of course, Martin was right by his side. Keonho’s pulse spiked, and he forced himself not to widen his eyes in both fear and surprise.
The lesson wasn’t done yet, meaning Seonghyeon’s class had been gifted an early minute out. An early minute that could’ve cost Keonho’s mental stability if Seonghyeon had seen him putting the note inside his locker. He knew he shouldn’t stare so blatantly, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Seonghyeon.
Seonghyeon, who didn’t notice him, since he was covered by the set of lockers, stopped in front of his locker. He opened it without hesitation, and the red note slipped free, falling against the edge before dropping right into his hand. Keonho’s breath caught.
For a moment, Seonghyeon just stared at it. Keonho knew that look by now. He had seen it yesterday. The brief pause, the silent evaluation, the moment when Seonghyeon decided if it was worth even a fraction of his attention. Keonho’s stomach twisted. He was going to throw it away, wasn’t he?
Maybe Juhoon had seen wrong, or maybe it just wasn’t Keonho’s note that had brought a smile onto Seonghyeon’s face. Seonghyeon’s fingers adjusted around the paper, and Keonho held his breath. Except he didn’t move his hand towards the bin. Keonho blinked as he watched Seonghyeon bring it closer to himself.
Seonghyeon’s eyes moved across the words, his expression still unreadable. Keonho felt like he was going to be sick, and not the sickness he was currently dealing with, but much worse. One second. Two. Three. Then it happened again. The corners of Seonghyeon’s lips softened.
It was the faintest curve, nowhere near a full smile, gone almost as quickly as it appeared. But Keonho saw it. Keonho knew that was Seonghyeon’s definition of a smile because he had seen it once before, and it had stayed with him long enough to make him do something this stupid twice.
Seonghyeon ran his fingers over the edge of the heart-shaped note and then slipped it into his pocket. When Keonho thought about it just a little harder, he realised it was the pocket of Seonghyeon’s jacket that he had given him yesterday. Keonho forgot how to breathe. Seonghyeon kept it.
Warmth spread through his chest, starting slow before blooming outward, filling the spaces that had been tight with nerves just moments ago. It was ridiculous that he was feeling all of this over two small pieces of paper that didn’t even have his name on them.
Martin said something, nudging Seonghyeon’s shoulder with a grin, clearly having noticed too. Seonghyeon rolled his eyes, his expression settling back into something neutral, but the note stayed where it was, tucked away safely.
Before he could think too hard about it, before he could spiral into overanalysing every little movement he had just witnessed, Keonho pushed himself upright and turned to his locker. Keonho pressed his lips together, trying to contain the stupid grin threatening to form. He couldn’t let Seonghyeon or Martin see him smiling like an idiot.
Maybe it really was just the sickness making him like this. Or maybe it wasn’t. Either way, he greeted Juhoon with a barely-contained smile—his best friend stared at him, confused and mildly concerned—as his head and heart were finally able to agree on one thing.
He wanted to see that smile again. And now, he knew exactly how he was going to do it.