Chapter Text
Yeonjun has always been impossibly untouchable.
You’ve known him since middle school, and even then, at a time when no one is cool, Yeonjun somehow was anyway. The star of the soccer team, the teacher’s pet, the choir boy ... Yeonjun was everything. Everything he tried, he excelled at. Even in the mandatory art class everyone took in eighth grade, Yeonjun was the prodigy. You sat in the seat in front of him (you remember this distinctly because you were constantly aware of the possibility of his eyes on you and it made you squirm until the bell, every class), so you were in perfect range to hear the conversation he shared with the teacher on the second day. The students were instructed to create a creature from scratch, a monster from beyond their wildest dreams. Most of them turned out wonky and disproportionate, the teacher still encouraging everyone as he came around and individually took a look at each project, but he halted at Yeonjun.
“Mr. Choi,” he said, and you could hear how impressed he was through the teasing tone his words carried. “This is some wonderful work. I could see this being a real mascot, or a logo. What’s your art experience like?”
Yeonjun laughed shyly, and though you didn’t know him too well then, you could tell it wasn’t an act. It would’ve been so easy to ham it up for the teacher. But Yeonjun just said, “Just doodling, I guess, I don’t think I have any real experience.”
This lead your teacher to go off on a tangent about how all art is real art, and how even stick figures count as experience, and how Yeonjun should definitely consider joining the art club, because “With such natural talent, Mr. Choi, you need to refine it and use it.”
Yeonjun agreed.
The next day, you signed up for art club.
-
If Yeonjun was a flame, you had always been a moth. A persistent moth.
You wouldn’t call your feelings for him a crush. You’d had crushes on others before, but this was a different feeling. You didn’t wanna kiss Yeonjun; you wanted to be friends with him, you wanted him to think you were cool. You wanted him to come over to your house and have art relays where you switch drawings every thirty seconds to create wild fusions between your minds, you wanted to go to the pool with him in the summer and race to see who was faster and who could hold their breath longer and eat popsicles in the unrelenting heat when you’d had enough. You wanted to rent bad movies with him so you didn’t have to feel guilty when you talk and joke over them while you throw popcorn at each other and make him laugh so hard Gatorade comes out of his nose. You wanted so much with Yeonjun. Which made it hurt so much more than just a crush.
The two of you talked in art club. It was inevitable; there were only eleven members. It wasn’t the everyday, “This is clearly my friend in the club” talking that you wanted, but it was something. And it made you feel good! Yeonjun was never a social butterfly, he wasn’t the type to just throw his attention around and be overly friendly to anything with a pulse. The fact that he liked you enough to chat with you made a full feeling of accomplishment swell up in your chest.
But you weren’t satiated. And then, before anything could really happen in terms of your friendship, middle school ended. No more art club.
It was time for high school.
Yeonjun absolutely blossomed in high school, and it was amazing to watch. He got even better at soccer, leading your school’s team to win after win after win. Colleges were scouting him as a freshman. He didn’t stay in art club, but he did continue to sing in the choir, and out of everyone in your grade, he took the most AP classes in a year (five in your senior year; and technically, he tied with you, because you were in every single one with him). Every time you saw him, he was on the cusp of exhaustion. Between all his courses and all that homework and soccer practice, it was obvious he barely got any sleep. You even overheard whispers from other tenors in the library one day that he had a habit of dozing off in chorus (which made your heart flutter -- how dare he be so cute). But he still had a sunny disposition about him, and it was clear he was proud of himself for accomplishing so much.
He was so hardworking, so nice, so cool. Did you really even ever stand a chance?
Speaking of you, you … weren’t doing so hot.
If you were shy before, you became a complete wallflower in high school. Teenagers are loud and mean and aggressive and you were petrified of all of them. There was a handful of other quiet girls, and the four of you stuck together for solidarity, but you wouldn’t call them friends. You mostly took as many AP classes as you physically could and drowned yourself in work so you didn’t have to think about how you were the class loner. You tried to forget about Yeonjun, because longing for his friendship made you feel weird and creepy. It kind of worked.
High school for you was a stressful, lonely blur.
Yeonjun graduated valedictorian. He didn’t even need to try so hard for his grades; he earned a full ride soccer scholarship to a fantastic private university.
Being a bright student yourself, you got accepted to every place you applied to, and you got some hefty scholarships, too. No full rides, but still. Significant. And to really good schools.
If you happened to commit to the same one as Yeonjun, well, that’s just coincidence, isn’t it?
-
“What the fuck?”
It’s more of a shriek than anything. You’re completely stricken, shock painted thickly all over your face as your eyes burn into your laptop. There’s no way, There’s no fucking way.
There’s no way Choi Yeonjun is your fucking roommate. That Choi Yeonjun. It can’t be possible.
You knew that the dorm you’ll be living in is coed. You knew that. You must’ve thoughtlessly checked off that you were okay sharing with either sex under the section of the application that matched you to a roommate. You must have. It’s the only explanation.
But that still doesn’t make it make sense.
You haven’t spoken to Yeonjun since eighth grade. You’ve barely spoken to anyone besides your teachers since eighth grade. How are you supposed to live with him? You could barely even coexist with him in high school without drowning in your feelings.
You’re reeling.
You decide you need to take a nap to recover.
When you wake a few hours later, it hits you all over again like a fucking avalanche, like there’s snow forcing itself down your throat, in your ears, inside your head, inside your heart. You’re frozen.
You check your phone.
You have two Instagram notifications.
One of them is a follow request. The other is a DM request.
Both from @choiyeonjun99.
Fuck.
-
The two of you awkwardly stumble your way around a friendship that summer before your first semester. It’s not anything crazy, just an everyday text, an exchange of memes, things like that. You haven’t even talked in person since finding out you’ll be roommates in a matter of weeks.
But that doesn’t mean it’s not still good.
Yeonjun is infuriatingly charming, which is made significantly worse by the fact that you know he’s not even trying. He’s just nice.
Yeonjun: Maybe we can get a cat :D
You: i’m sure the university would be thrilled
Yeonjun: Screw the university
Yeonjun: I don’t owe them anything
You: that makes one of us
Yeonjun: oh shit
Yeonjun: I’ll split my scholarship with you :D
You: how are you planning to get away with that?
Yeonjun: My various charms??
You: remind me again of what those are?
Yeonjun: MEAN D:<
The conversation begins to flow easily between you two, becoming natural as you both slowly emerge from your shells. You wish you had a time machine so you could tell your eighth grade self that you’re Yeonjun’s emergency contact now, since you’ll be living together. Eighth grade you would fucking spontaneously combust.
A week before you move in, it’s three in the morning and you can’t sleep. You’re tortured by thoughts of the near future, and you can’t tell if it’s excitement or dread or both. It’s like the Indy 500 is going on in your stomach and it’s a photo finish but the fucking lens cap was on the camera the whole race.
The university you and Yeonjun are attending is pretty elite, and very … extra, is the word that comes to mind. You’ve searched up what your dorm will look like when you arrive. It’s massive, they all are, the size of two bedroom apartments with a living room and a kitchenette and everything. But even with all that space, you know your feelings for Yeonjun will fill up every room and suffocate you until you don’t have any choice but to jump out your bedroom window.
The two of you share a bathroom. You’ll use the same shower. The thought of that alone makes fields of primroses burst into bloom in your chest.
You’re falling down a rabbit hole of visions of you and Yeonjun living in the same space, being with him for several hours of the day, living domestically, learning each other’s schedules, grabbing lunch together, cramming for midterms, sleeping only separated by one wall … you’re spiraling. Out of control. Spinning.
You take out your phone.
You: hi i know it’s late and you’re probably not awake but i just want to tell you that i can’t stop thinking about next week and i’m so nervous and so excited that i just want to apologize in advance because i’ll probably be really jittery and weird the first few days but i’ll get over it i swear.
You: i cant sleep and its killing me so thats why im texting you at ass o clock in the morning
To your surprise, the little Seen text pops up at the bottom after a few seconds, and a couple of moments later, he’s typing.
Yeonjun: hey
Yeonjun: Dont be nervous
Yeonjun: Are you doing okay? Really?
How do you say No, I’m tormented by thoughts of you existing while I’m rooms away in a friendly, future roommate way?
You: yeah just anxious
You: dont worry about it
Yeonjun: You said you cant sleep?
You: yeah?
Yeonjun: I could call you if you want
Your heart.
Stops.
Yeonjun: I know talking to someone always makes me feel better and then I can get to sleep
Yeonjun: Nbd if not tho :)
You ... you are in so deep. You shoot your shot.
You: actually that would be nice
You: are you sure you dont mind?
Yeonjun: Absolutely
Yeonjun: Just let me know when you’re ready
You will never be ready.
You: im ready
Your heart beats once. Twice. Thrice.
Your phone rings. Yeonjun’s face pops up, a cute selfie you stole from his Instagram.
You answer it before you have the chance to think about it.
“H-hello?” you stutter, and hate yourself for it.
“Hey,” Yeonjun greets, and you immediately know you didn’t think this through enough. His voice is grumbly and raspy and you feel like you’ve been shot point-blank through the eye.
“Hi,” you breathe, and internally berate yourself for how stupid you sound. “Um. I’m sorry if you were trying to sleep.”
“No,” Yeonjun says. You so badly wish you could see his face. “Don’t worry about it, I’m not even in bed.”
You almost sigh in relief. It’s just a phone call, but you were not at all expecting how … intimate it feels to whisper to him in the middle of the night. Like you’re bearing your soul.
Yeonjun continues. “Are you nervous about school?”
You don’t know the half of it.
“Yeah,” you say, and then take it back. “Well, no, not really. I took so many AP classes in high school it was almost like being in college.”
Yeonjun hums. “Yeah. I’ve heard that college classes are easy for people who took a lot of honors classes in high school. You’re smart, you’ll do great. Why are you nervous?”
You draw a breath, head swirling at his compliment, wondering if you’re really about to go there. “Mostly about our dorm.”
He pauses. “How so?”
You squirm a little. Why. The ever-loving fuck. Did you say that. “I’ve just … I don’t know, I’ve never lived with anyone else, really, my parents mostly stay out of my way and I never interact with my neighbors. I just don’t really know how to live in a building full of other people, let alone in a space with someone else.” You blow out a breath. “I don’t wanna get in your way or anything like that.”
Yeonjun makes a pensive sound, a hum somewhere between surprised and confused. “Well, that’s a little silly.”
You make a face. “What do you mean?”
Yeonjun chuckles a little, and you’re ashamed that the unexpected sound sends a shiver down your back. “Get in my way? Y/N, we’re friends.” He stops for a second, like he’s not sure if it was okay to say that. “You’re not gonna get in my way.”
But I’m just as afraid of that!
“Okay,” you relent. “But you have to promise me that you’ll speak up if I do something weird or that bothers you, okay?”
Yeonjun makes a noise in the back of his throat, and you can hear slight shifting in the background, like he’s moving. “You won’t. You’re organized and nice and quiet, and you won’t do anything that bothers me. I’m only bothered by, like, you doing crack off my textbooks, and I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” You choke out a laugh. Yeonjun snorts. “Please, don’t worry about it.”
Blood rushes to your face. How does he even know what you’re like? You thought he forgot you existed. “I … okay, yeah, that won’t be an issue, but please. Promise me?”
Yeonjun sighs dramatically, but you can tell he’s joking. “Okay, I promise to yell at you if I catch you tripping on acid in our bathroom. Feel better?”
You laugh, but you really do feel better. You’re glad you agreed to call instead of chickening out. “I do. Thank you, Yeonjun.”
You realize it’s the first time you’ve said his name out loud in years. You hear his breath hitch. “Yeah, no problem.”
You decide you’re not ready to hang up yet. “Um, what are you doing this late? If you don’t mind me asking!” you rush out.
“Ah, actually …” he sounds much more timid than he did a few seconds ago, “I’m trying to rekindle that eighth-grade art club magic.”
It takes your brain a second to process that. At first you thought he meant with you. “Oh, you’re drawing?” you ask dumbly.
“Yeah, it’s been a while.” He sounds far away for a second, like he had to put his phone down. “I almost forgot how to do it.”
“I didn’t think you could forget,” you half-laugh.
“Uhm,” Yeonjun says, and there’s the shifting again. You think he’s moving his phone to his other ear. “Well, I haven’t really drawn since middle school, so I’m pretty out of commission. At this point, my hand is used to writing papers, not doodling.”
With such natural talent, Mr. Choi, you need to refine it and use it.
Your art teacher would be so disappointed to hear that. It kind of breaks your heart a little bit, too.
“Well, you should definitely get back in commission,” you joke, but you really mean it. “You were always the most amazing one out of all of us.”
It’s true. You guys didn’t do a lot of projects; the club was mostly just a bunch of kids sitting around, joking and drawing together, but Yeonjun was always who you all looked to when you did. And when you didn’t have anything to do, well … you sat next to him, you saw what he could do. He was amazing. His style was a fusion of realism with pronounced, 90s anime-style lines, his pieces always bursting with bright color and jumping right off the page at whoever was looking at them. He was a master of capturing expressions, even as an eighth grader. They were mesmerizing. To know he set this talent aside just to get into a good college makes you hate the whole education system.
“What!?” He exclaims, louder than he’s been this whole time. “That’s not true at all, you were always the best artist in the club, are you kidding me?”
You?
“Me?”
“Yes, what the fuck! Your sketches were incredible then, I bet you’re even better now, you didn’t stop like my dumb ass,” he shouts, laughing between words. It’s the most frantic and probably the most genuine you’ve ever heard him. “Not to mention what you could do with paint.”
You … suppose he’s got a point. Your paintings are your pride. However …
“Even if that’s true, which it’s not,” you fire back, getting louder, “art is like, my whole thing, yeah? It’s all I do. You have like, five things. Art isn't even your main thing, Yeonjun. You’re, like, the ultra-amazing-star-soccer-player-valedictorian-boy-genius-best-singer-in-the- whole-choir who just also happens to kick ass at art. That shit is not fair.”
...
Uh, okay, wow. Could you have possibly made it any more obvious that you look at him like he hung the stars up in the sky one by one?
“Christ, Y/N,” he mumbles, and you panic. You open your mouth to apologize, but he speaks too soon. “No one’s ever said anything like that to me.”
You don’t understand.
“How?” You blurt, and want to hit yourself.
“What?”
You swallow. “How has no one ever said that to you? It’s just true.”
Yeonjun laughs quietly, but it’s drenched in nerves. “I don’t, uh, know. Not everyone is as nice as you are, you know.”
“I’m not just being nice,” you insist, “it’s the truth. You’re good at, like, everything.”
Yeonjun groans. “Stop, my face is gonna explode. How did you spin this on me, huh? This phone call was supposed to be about you. Devious.”
My face is gonna explode.
Did you make Yeonjun blush? The image of him with pink cheeks is enough to send your heart rocketing to Venus.
You stop the takeoff and pull it back into your chest. “I’m just saying!”
Yeonjun laughs at your defensive tone. “I’m teasing, I’m teasing. I like talking to you.” He stops, just for two beats. “I’m happy we’re roommates. It’s gonna be a great year.”
Your heart sneaks back into its rocket ship. You let it.