Archive of Our Own

Believe it or not, Hyeonju's well aware of her temper.

The ball of irritation sits at the back of her mind constantly, regardless of whether she wants it to, waiting for a trigger to crawl out and tear through her guts, her chest, out of her mouth. She's well adapted to the looks of shock that melt into animosity, and it's only a matter of time before the cold treatment begins.

They leave eventually. She gets it. She would leave to, if she were them.

The people who stay, though few and far between, are those generous enough to understand her aggression for self-protection, and that beneath the blunt words and icy glares, she's still trying to be a kind person.

Grandpa used to be the only one, then Woojin and Gunwoo got lured in, and now she's beginning to think that she actually deserves the decent things in life. It's a dangerous, dangerous thought. One she would have liked to entertain in a brighter, safer world.

At least they don't seem like they're leaving anytime soon: Hyeonju catches Gunwoo marching down the corridor in Cam 4 from the corner of her eye.

Weird. Woojin's not with him. Those two goons are never not together, it makes her sick- something clicks together in Hyeonju's head, and her heart plunges.

Woojin. Woojin's not with Gunwoo. That's why- that's why he's here, isn't he?

She doesn't think when she unlocks the gate even before Gunwoo reaches it. He pauses for a moment when he pulls open the main door with far too much ease, tilting his head in confusion before entering anyway. Hyeonju spins her chair around and forces herself to sit still. Her palms are clammy with sweat, she stuffs them into her jacket. She's had them for no longer than a week. She can't loose- no, she can't. Not again. Don't think.

Gunwoo appears in the doorway almost immediately, slightly out of breath, frenzied. He bows first, hands politely locked in front of him like always. Hyeonju's heartbeat thrashes like thunder in her ears.

"Hyeonju-ssi."

Hyeonju can't stop the question from rolling off her lips. She can only hope it doesn't reveal as much anxiety as she feels.

"Where's Woojin oppa?"

"Teach me how to kiss."

The world spins. Slows. Stops. Spins again, spins faster. What?

"What?" Hyeonju croaks.

"What?" Gunwoo echoes. Confusion is plastered all over his face.

Hyeonju wants to throw up. The last time she felt this much emotional whiplash, she was ten, sprinting away from the orphanage in sub-zero temperatures with no shoes and six thousand won in her pocket. The heavy storm brewing low in her gut shuts her up. The trigger has been pulled. Gunwoo is still staring at her with those agnonizingly innocent eyes. Ah. She must've gotten too soft. Too weak. Cared too much. Now they're crossing the lines, trampling all over her and demanding ridiculous bullshit.

She squeezes her eyes shut and sighs loudly, angles her head away from Gunwoo so she wouldn't curse in his face for making her worry in vain.

"Hyung's at home? President Choi told us to lay low for now, but I'm- you see, I kind of want to-"

"No." Yeah. No. Let it stew. Don't scream at him. Don't scream at him. Keep it down.

"But, Hyeonju-ssi, I really want to do this and, uh, it's kind of embarrassing but I've never properly kissed someone before and I don't have anyone else to turn to for help so-"

A laugh escapes her and Gunwoo's voice trails off. It's forced and mirthless, more bitter than she'd expected. She can't really bring herself to care. There are a lot of things she wants to say. All of them will hurt.

"Ahh, fuck," she scratches the bridge of her nose, "you're either in need of hearing aids, or you're really as annoyingly stupid as I'd thought."

She drops her hand and meets Gunwoo's eyes. His face is carefully stoic, but the hurt and surprise in his eyes is evident. Familiar. Step one of leaving her life. If Hyeonju's heart falters, she doesn't show it to him.

"I know you heard me the first time. Don't waste your time here. Get out."

"Hyeonju-ssi, I really need-"

"I said." She stands. The chair rolls back and slams against the table, the sound slicing across the room painfully. Gunwoo flinches. She barely stops herself from doing the same. "Get out."

The boxer's eyes shake, pleading and desperate and determined and hopeful. They're always hopeful. For what, she has no idea. He's beginning to learn how to hold his ground against her, as if he knows that she doesn't actually mean what she says, that she sometimes regrets them too late. That she wants to take them back and she doesn't know how. Maybe he does.

Dangerous, dangerous thought.

"Hyeonju-ssi, I'm sorry for offending you," Gunwoo says quietly, resolutely, "but I won't leave until you help me in some way. I need your help."

Oh.

There isn't a way out of this, is there? Gunwoo, Woojin, Grandpa, they've all fought and won a war a long time ago. She's the annoyingly stupid one for not realising it sooner.

Hyeonju breaks the eye contact first, pulling the chair towards her and dropping into it. Her legs feel too weak all of a sudden. There's a sparkle in Gunwoo's eyes that hasn't been there before. It irks her and enthralls her at the same time. So he does know.

"You're one fucking stubborn mule."

"So can you help me?"

"No." Gunwoo's expression drops. He's pouting. What a loser. Maybe that's why he and Woojin get along so well, like two loser peas in a loser pod. Hyeonju nearly laughs to herself.

"No, as in, no: I will not kiss you. Go kiss someone else, like Woojin-oppa. You can't be homophobic if you want to impress the girls."

Hyeonju has seen Gunwoo's face beaten to a bloody pulp before, but the way his face and neck flushes bright red all in a matter of two seconds almost makes her more concerned. Almost.

"You're blushing," she observes, then,

"You're homophobic."

Gunwoo's eyes widen so much she actually believes they'll pop out right then and there. He waves his hands in front of her and shakes his head like a dog, horrified.

"Nononononono- I'm not! No. I'm- Okay. Okay. There's a misunderstanding." His face is still very much on fire. Hyeonju raises an eyebrow.

The pure fear radiating off Gunwoo is palpable enough to make her shift uncomfortably in her seat. He wets his lips before continuing, unusually cautious: "The reason why I asked you to practice kissing with me, and why I said I have no one else to turn to for help, even though I do have Woojin hyung as well, is that-"

"The person you want to kiss is Woojin-oppa." Hyeonju finishes blandly.

Gunwoo chokes on thin air.

Another bout of frustration-annoyance bubbles in her stomach as the boy sends himself into a coughing fit. Hyeonju represses it with just as much difficulty as the first time, pinching the skin between her brows. She can feel a headache creeping to the front of her brain.

Lord, save me from this airheaded bullshit before I strangle the two morons and then myself to death.

She gives herself time to cool down, until Gunwoo is done hacking his lungs away and he can finally splutter out a pathetic, "How do you know?"

"You talk so slow I pieced it together in my head with twenty seconds to spare." Hyeonju deadpans.

"You're not-" Gunwoo sucks in a breath. "You're not surprised?"

"No," Hyeonju replies, "actually, yes. I'm surprised that you two buffoons haven't kissed yet. I lose my appetite and will to live just seeing the two of you together. There should be a Guinness World Record for third-wheeling, because, fuck you, I would've earned the title so fast, no questions asked."

Gunwoo's face turns impossibly redder once he fully processes what she means. He might just get a high fever at this rate.

"Um," he chews on his lip. The poor fool looks so out of it that Hyeonju has the urge to go easy on him, and she really must've become softer, because she shows mercy.

"Hey, why not just do it?" She sighs. "Woojin-oppa doesn't look like he's kissed anyone before either."

"I don't know." Gunwoo admits wearily. It's a multi-layered statement. I don't know if he did. I don't know if he wants to. I don't know whether he'll like it. I don't know how to approach him.

"You'll never know since you don't wanna try. Anyway," Hyeonju turns back to face the monitors, digs out a pen and a stack of sticky notes, "asking me is useless, and a waste of time, like I said. What I am clear of, is that all those worst case scenarios running through your head are not going to happen. I know it when someone is sincere about their feelings towards another person. Woojin-oppa's the most sincere when it comes to you."

She tears the yellow note from the stack and slaps it right above Gunwoo's chest, who stumbles back in shock.

"Trust me, I know."

He blinks down at it, pulling it off his shirt, eyes scanning over the note. Multiple emotions flash through his face. Gratitude is the only one Hyeonju picks up on. It makes her heart feel stupidly strange. Foreign and familiar all the same. She doesn't chase the feeling. He meets her eyes again, his lips parting and closing repeatedly, though nothing ever comes out of them.

The funny thing is, she already knows what he's going to say.

Hyeonju takes a while to admit to herself that the smile on her face is genuine when she ushers him out of the bookstore.

_______

Much, much later, when all is lost and forever gone, when the knowledge that time will never rewind for someone undeserving and insignificant like her finally edges its way into the hellish, hollow pit where her heart once was, Hyeonju will receive a text message.

The nineteenth and final one, from a certain someone she won't ever have the courage to face for as long as she survives.

Hyeonju will read it through the notification, and wonder how ironically she, out of all the good and bad and worse beings in the universe, could have another chance from divinity to figure that there used to be some things–some people–truly worth wearing a smile for.

Hyeonju can't necessarily remember the last time she kept a smile on for someone, but perhaps that will be enough reason for her to stay alive until she does.

And stay alive, Hyeonju did.