Archive of Our Own

It started with something so small that it almost felt ridiculous to notice.
A cough. Jaehyun didn’t think much of it at first.

It came in the middle of the night, somewhere between the blur of lecture notes and the dull glow of his laptop screen. His throat had been dry for hours, his eyes strained from reading lines that refused to stay in place. The cough was sharp, sudden, enough to make him pause—but not enough to mean anything.

So he ignored it. That was what he did best. Ignoring things. Because if he acknowledged it, it would become an inevitable truth. And he couldn’t risk that happening.

The library was nearly empty. It always was at this hour. There was a certain kind of silence that only existed past midnight—one that wasn’t entirely quiet, but instead filled with the faint hum of lights, the distant turning of pages, and the occasional shift of chairs against the floor. It wrapped around the space like something tangible, pressing down gently, making everything feel slower.
Jaehyun preferred it that way. He loved how it felt like being in a world of his own. No distractions. No unnecessary conversations. No one to notice him.
Or so he thought.

“You’re still here?”
The voice came like light through a half-open curtain. Soft. Familiar.

Jaehyun didn’t look away from the window. “…Yeah.”

A chair slid across from him. “You’re going to ruin your eyes like that.”

“They’re already ruined.”

“Wow. Dramatic.”

Jaehyun finally glanced up. Woonhak was smiling. Not brightly nor loudly. Just enough. There was always something about him that felt… warm. Like sunlight through glass. Too gentle. Too dangerous. So warm yet alarming.

“…What?” Jaehyun muttered.

“Nothing,” Woonhak said, resting his chin in his hand. “You just look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“I did.”

“When?”

“Earlier.”

Woonhak leaned closer, squinting slightly. “Define earlier.”

Jaehyun looked away.

A quiet laugh followed. It lingered. Jaehyun felt it more than he heard it. Like warmth brushing against his skin. Amidst of the darkness of the night, it felt like he was bathed in sunlight for the slightest moment. And for a brief moment, he forgot how to breathe properly.

The first petal came on a night just like that. He knew something was wrong with him. He had been coughing for no reason too much lately. His chest felt like it’s being strangled with vines. It was as if a plant grew in his lungs, settling its roots and branching out from within, trying to escape.

The cough felt deeper this time.

It scraped against his throat, sharp enough to make him press his hand against his chest, as if that would steady something unraveling inside him. He couldn’t breathe for a moment. He felt the suffocation, as if he was drowning mid-air.

Then, something soft touched his palm. Jaehyun looked down. A petal. White. Camellia. It rested there like something misplaced. Too delicate for the weight it carried.
Jaehyun stared at it. Through the window beside him, his reflection stared back—distorted, distant. He had wished that wasn’t the case. He wished that it was all a nightmare. But he knew it all too well.
The flower was already rooted deep in his lungs.

“…Of course.” His voice barely existed. Camellias didn’t bloom loudly. They didn’t demand attention. They stayed quiet. And fell, only when they could no longer hold on.

It got worse with time. Not in a way anyone could see. But Jaehyun felt it. In his breath. In the way it caught mid-sentence. In the way it trembled when Woonhak laughed. He was too close, too warm, too dangerous.

Jaehyun found more ways to pretend. He learned exactly when to turn his head away, how to cough into his sleeves, discard the petals before anyone noticed. He was too good with it.

But he also started noticing things he shouldn’t. The way sunlight hit Woonhak’s hair through the café windows. The way his hands moved when he spoke—expressive, careless, alive. The way he leaned forward slightly when he listened.

Jaehyun noticed everything. And that was the problem. Because every small thing felt like it was blooming inside him. And blooming meant it would eventually fall.
The more he noticed, the more he felt his chest tightening. He was facing more difficulty to breathe each day.

-----

“You’ve been avoiding me.” The words came quietly.

Jaehyun didn’t look up. “No…”

“You have.”

“…I’m just busy.”

“That’s not new.”

“Then what is it?” Jaehyun’s fingers tightened slightly.

“Nothing.”

Woonhak shifted, almost like a gesture to leave. He grabbed his book and turned towards the exit.

Jaehyun let out a small breath. He didn’t notice that he had been holding his breath until then. He couldn’t afford to make it look obvious that his breathing pattern crumbled whenever Woonhak was around. Well, it wasn’t really stable usually either but still, he didn’t want to get exposed.

Before Jaehyun’s self-assurance could even end, Woonhak pulled a stop and walked back to Jaehyun’s desk, his expression stoned but not considered serious.
The sudden turn of events took Jaehyun by surprise. He had looked up and met Woonhak’s eyes before he could control himself.

“Then why do you look like you’re suffocating?”

Jaehyun’s breath faltered. He hated that. Hated how Woonhak noticed things he tried so hard to hide.

“…I’m not.”

“You are.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

A small pause.

Jaehyun wished he could just get up and run away from that place. But he doubted Woonhak would let him leave. He kept his head low, praying Woonhak would just drop the topic and leave.
He could feel his breathing faltering. His throat felt scratchy, he could almost feel the petals in his throat. It was only a matter of time until they escaped from his mouth.

Not now. Not like this.

“…Because you only breathe like that when you’re lying.”

Jaehyun froze. He didn’t dare to look up. He didn’t even dare to blink. Woonhak was right onto him, onto his lies. His head began to spiral. The suffocation in his chest only got worse by each second. He couldn’t take it anymore.

And Woonhak noticed. He noticed every single move Jaehyun made yet, he had no choice but to stand there, doing nothing but stare.

But as Woonhak tried to reach out, Jaehyun stood up abruptly, grabbed his stuff in a haste and ran out of the library. Woonhak was left there, still in the same position he had been, with dozens of unanswered questions lingering in the air.

Once he was outside, Jaehyun felt like he was about to faint. The night air was chilling, making his skin shiver slightly. The air was fresh, cold even, but he couldn’t breathe it in. He just stood there, struggling to let the air enter his lungs. The more he tried, the worse the coughs got. He couldn’t stop it. Petal by petal, they fell into his hands.
When it finally stopped, Jaehyun could feel most of his strength disappear within a few minutes. He can’t risk this. He can’t risk the presence of Woonhak. He couldn’t let himself feel the ache in his heart whenever he saw Woonhak.

He tried to stay away after that. Different seats. Different times. Different routes. It was tiring but he didn’t have any other choice. But avoidance didn’t stop the seasons.

Spring came anyway. Soft. Uninvited. And with it, the petals multiplied. Pink now. Warmer. Closer to something alive.

How ironic. Jaehyun had thought.

He didn’t even want to look at his reflection in the mirror. He looked exhausted most of the time, coughing, breathing heavily, his head spinning almost every moment.
The petals slowly became more alive and yet, he was closer to death. That’s how it worked, Jaehyun guessed. The uninvited, deeply rooted flower in his lungs was feeding on his agony and the petals were the outcome of it. It was slowly sucking life out of him.

Jaehyun hated spring. Because everything bloomed. Even the things that weren’t supposed to.

The night everything broke, the windows were open. The air was cold. Almost too cold for spring.
Jaehyun sat by the edge of the rooftop, his back against the railing, staring out at the city lights below. They flickered like distant stars, unreachable, indifferent.

His breath came uneven.
In.
Out.
In—
Stop.

The cough tore through him. Violent. Unrelenting.
He bent forward, his hands gripping the cold concrete as petals spilled, not soft anymore. Not light. Too many. Too heavy.
He hated it. He hated how all he could do was run away and hide.

----

Jaehyun spent his days buried in books, seeking for the cure. Even if it’s just a temporary solution, he was willing to risk it. He couldn’t take it anymore and he knew it too well that it’s only a matter of time before he fully loses control of himself.

There was only two ways. Confession or removal. Jaehyun stared at the words until his eyes blurred.

Confession

He almost laughed out of disbelief. The idea felt absurd. To stand in front of Woonhak and say it out loud, turn something so quiet, so carefully hidden, into something real – something inevitable.
It wasn’t particularly courage he lacked. Rather, it was the aftermath that made him hesitate. Because confession didn’t guarantee anything. It didn’t promise to be returned. It was a bigger gamble than anything he could ever afford.

Jaehyun knew it too well. For him, it’s not even a gamble. It was never a 50-50 opportunity.

The second option was far worse. He read through the risks again: memory loss. The patient would not only lose the feelings but also the memories of the person. The flowers fed on the unrequited feelings after all. To pull out the root, everything related to it must be erased.
Jaehyun snapped the book shut. He couldn’t believe it himself.

“That’s cruel.”

It was either losing him with only memories to keep or just losing him entirely.

He didn’t even want to imagine how it would be. To forget Woonhak completely, like he never existed in his life in the first place. Erase every small detail he had memorized carefully; the way he laughed, the way he leaned forward when he listened, the way his voice softened at the edges. And worst of all, his warm smile that could light up the whole room. To lose all of that –
Jaehyun pressed his hand against his chest. It hurt. Not because of the agonizing flower growing inside him. Not the suffocation. But the thought of nothing pained him.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to do it.
So he chose neither.

----

Days passed, then weeks. Jaehyun had already stopped looking for a cure. Not exactly because he had found one. But because he had accepted there wasn’t one meant for him.
He spent more time alone, locked up in his room. He started writing more. The notebook was filled slowly; messy lines, uneven pages. Some pages only had a single line. Some held too many.

I think I’m running out of time. I can barely move like a normal person.

I’m losing myself before I even noticed.

I heard the rumors today. You look really happy. I hope everything goes well with that guy. A part of me is glad. The other part –
the sentence was never finished. He couldn’t bring himself to write it down. It’s too raw, too ugly. He hated how he felt.

He didn’t go to the rooftop anymore. He didn’t go to the library either. He avoided every route that would lead to Woonhak. As much as his heart ached, he knew that it’s better than seeing Woonhak with Taesan in his current state.

But sometimes, his feet betrayed him. And he found himself standing in front of the library entrance again. Just for a minute, he told himself. He needed to get the materials for his assignments. Well, at least, that’s what he tried to deceive himself with.
The library was the same as ever; lights dim, warm and quiet. But as Jaehyun walked over to his normal spot, he heard laughter spilled over the shelves. Familiar. Too familiar. It was the voice he had longed to hear for weeks yet instead of joy, he was filled with fear.

Jaehyun shouldn’t have looked. But he did.
Woonhak was leaning against the shelf, with at least three books in his hands, laughing so much to the point that his eyes were in crescents. Opposite to him was Taesan, smiling. He was standing there like it was the most definite thing in the world. Close. Effortless.
Jaehyun felt the bitterness in the back of his mouth. His chest tightened, a sharp twist in his chest, and he felt it deeper than he should.

“…Right.”

Then coughs followed. Violent. Unforgiving. Petals spilled into his hands. They were pure red. Jaehyun stared at them. Then he laughed. He could barely make a sound. It was soft, yet broken, just like himself.

Jaehyun exhaled. “Of course. What was I even expecting?”

“..Jaehyun?” That soft, warm voice called out his name, so tenderly that he almost got himself fooled.
Jaehyun didn’t look. No, he couldn’t look. He knew that if he did, there’d be no way out. He’d get back to the whole start, all the walls he had built up would collapse as soon as he meets his eyes.

But sometimes, the body reacts faster than the mind could process.

Just as Jaehyun turned his head, he met Woonhak’s eyes. As they made eye contact, Woonhak smiled at him, the same old smile that melted Jaehyun’s heart. Yet it’s different now. Beside him, there was someone else. A place Jaehyun could never even imagine to stand. Taesan looked at him with blank eyes, as if he wasn’t even thinking anything while staring at him.
Jaehyun felt his skin turn cold. He hated himself. He wished he could just disappear at that moment. He thought he’d be fine if only he avoided Woonhak but that wasn’t the case. He hated how jealousy and hatred were overflowing inside him, all bitter and disgusting.

After a moment, Woonhak broke the silence.

“It’s been a while since I last saw you. Are you okay? You look really pale right now.”

Jaehyun shifted his eyes towards something else – anything else other than Woonhak.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just feeling a little under the weather,” he muttered, smiling half-heartedly.

“Oh, okay. Well, if you have time, wanna grab some coffee with us?”

Jaehyun’s gaze immediately shifted to Taesan. He smiled slightly towards Jaehyun, almost in a friendly manner.
That’s what broke Jaehyun right there. All he could think when he saw Taesan was nothing but jealousy but there he was, offering Jaehyun to grab a coffee with them. Suddenly, all the hatred he had forced upon Taesan backfired. Now, he hated himself more than anyone.

“I… uh, sorry. I have some work to do.”

“That’s a bummer. Maybe next time?” Woonhak was still smiling, his gaze warm and tender.

“Yeah, sure.”

Jaehyun didn’t stay. This time, he turned away immediately. All he knew was that he had to escape the scene before the pain in his chest worsened.

----

He didn’t remember how he got back. The walk, the turns, the streets; everything blurred into something distant.

By the time he reached his room, his hands were shaking. The door barely closed before his knees gave in. Jaehyun collapsed against it, sliding down slowly until he hit the floor.
The coughs came immediately, harsh and violent, as if it was overflowing inside him and it had to come out before it consumed him as a whole.

He pressed his hand against his mouth, but it didn’t help. Petals spilled through his fingers, too many, too fast. They scattered across the floor; all deep red now, like it was a warning that it was time.
Jaehyun let out a quiet breath. It didn’t even surprise him anymore. The room felt smaller, or maybe his breath had.

He stayed there for a while. Long enough for the trembling to settle into something dull, something quiet.
Eventually, he moved. Slowly, carefully, like even the slightest mistake might break something inside him.

The notebook sat on the desk, waiting. Jaehyun stared at it, contemplating for a while. Then he reached for it. His fingers felt weaker now, unsteady, trembling. He flipped to a blank page. For a moment, nothing came.

Then slowly, he wrote.
I saw you today.
His hand halted to a stop, his breath faltered.

You looked really happy.
The ink only pressed deeper, as if it was symbolizing the growing pain inside him.

He looks good next to you.
His hand stilled once again. Something tightened in his chest. It wasn’t sharp nor sudden, just heavy.

I’m glad that I met you today. Even though it pains me, it gave me a chance to see your smile one last time.
A soft laugh escaped his mouth. He couldn’t believe what he was writing.

I think you’ll be okay. I’m sure he’ll be the best for you.
A faint smile tugged at his lips, small, almost unnoticeable.

And that’s enough for me.
A petal fell onto the page. Then another. Jaehyun watched them. He didn’t try to hold them back anymore. He didn’t try to brush them away.

“…sorry.”
The word slipped out quickly. He wasn’t sure who it was for.

He picked up the petals and stared at them for a while.

“Lucky you. At least you had the chance to bloom.”

Jaehyun leaned back against the wall.
The ceiling blurred, then softened, like it was drifting further away. His breath came shallow, uneven. But the pain wasn’t there anymore. Only silence.

“…I’m tired.” The words were barely a whisper.

For a moment, he thought of nothing. Then, warm, dimmed lights. The sound of pages turning. The soft whispers. Soft laughter. And Woonhak smiling.
For one last time, he thought of everything; his warm gazes, smiles, laughter, those unfunny jokes.

He thought of the way Woonhak walked, the way he spoke, the way his eyes lit up whenever he ate something delicious, even the way he treated him, soft, warm and tender.

Jaehyun exhaled. “…That’s enough.”
And for the last time, Jaehyun’s eyes slowly drifted to close. For once, the pain in his chest eased.
And the room – fell still.
Silence followed. The kind that didn’t leave.

----

Woonhak didn’t notice at first. The world didn’t revolving for things like this after all.
Everything stayed the same. The classes, lectures, study sessions, the library. It was all busy, warm and alive.
But he noticed something was off, like something was missing.

“…You okay?” Taesan’s voice pulled him back.

“Yeah, I’m… just tired.”

But that wasn’t it. Woonhak found himself seeking for someone almost everywhere. He kept glancing at the library entrance, again and again, hoping the next person entering would be the one he was waiting to see.

“…That guy,” he said suddenly.

Taesan looked up. “Which one?”

“…Jaehyun.” The name felt unfamiliar on his tongue. Like something he hadn’t said enough.

“I haven’t seen him lately.”

Taesan shrugged lightly. “Maybe he’s busy.”

“…Yeah.”

But it didn’t feel like that.

Days passed. Then more. And the feeling stayed. Unsettling.

----

Woonhak didn’t know why his feet led him there. He’s not even that close to Jaehyun. So why does his absence bother him so much? He had been standing in front of Jaehyun’s dorm for a while, walking back and forth, contemplating if he should go in or leave. Unable to conceal his eagerness, Woonhak went inside. He already knew which room was Jaehyun’s since there were names labelled on the doors. It wasn’t particularly difficult to find it.

Jaehyun’s room was quiet. Too quiet. The door wasn’t locked.

“…Hello?”

No answer.

Woonhak stepped inside slowly. The air felt still. The room wasn’t clean but it wasn’t that messy either. There were dust everywhere as if no one had been living there for weeks.

His gaze landed on the desk. A notebook. And petals, dried and faded into a duller red shade.

Woonhak froze. “…What…?”

He stepped closer. Hands moving before he could think. The notebook opened.

You looked happy today.
His breath caught. Page after page.
His name.
His voice.
His—
everything.

I think I’m running out of time.
A petal slipped out.
Red.
“…No.” His chest tightened. “…Jaehyun—”

Outside the door, someone spoke. “You didn’t hear?”

Woonhak turned. “…Hear what?”

“He… he passed away.”

A pause.

“Like two weeks ago.”

Silence.

In that short span of seconds, Woonhak felt as if the room had collapsed and fell onto him. Woonhak stood there. Unable to move. Unable to breathe.

“I… I didn’t know.” His voice sounded distant. Useless.

Woonhak stood still for a long time. The room didn’t change. It didn’t need to. Nothing here looked like an ending. And that somehow made it worse. His fingers were still curled around the notebook. Like letting go would mean something final he wasn’t ready to accept.

He told himself to leave. But he didn’t. Instead, his gaze dropped back to the desk. That was when he saw it. Not inside the notebook. Not between the pages. But tucked beneath it—folded unevenly, like it had been placed there without care and forgotten on purpose.

Woonhak frowned slightly. “…What is this?”

His hand moved before hesitation could stop him. The paper felt different. Softer. More worn at the edges. Like it had been handled too many times. Or maybe too carefully. His initials were writtten on the corner. "KWH" He unfolded it slowly. And stopped. The first line was his name.

Woonhak

.

His breath caught—not loudly, not dramatically. Just enough to feel like something shifted inside his chest. He kept reading. Line after line. Quiet confessions that didn’t feel like confessions at all. More like something someone had tried very hard not to say. Not to him.
But at him.

I think I liked you more quietly.
It hurt less that way.

Woonhak’s fingers tightened slightly. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until it started to ache. There were things he expected. Regret. Distance. Silence. But not this. Not something so… aware. So deliberate. So alive.

He read further. And then – he stopped.

I think I was waiting for you to notice me first.

Woonhak stared at it, a line that was barely visible at first look. It was crossed out, as if it didn’t belong there. For a long moment, nothing moved. Not his eyes. Not his breath. Not even the air in the room. It felt like the world had paused without asking him first.

“You idiot...” The words came out barely above a whisper. Not anger Not teasing. Something worse. Something softer. Because that line – that line wasn’t just regret.It was hope . A hope Jaehyun had tried to erase with his own hand. As if deleting it could make it less true.

Woonhak’s grip loosened slightly. The paper trembled. He almost dropped it. Almost. For a second, he thought about letting it fall. About putting it back exactly where he found it. About pretending he hadn’t seen it. It would’ve been easier. It always was.

But his fingers curled again. Tighter this time. Refusing.

“I would’ve noticed.” The words left him before he could stop them. Broken in a way he didn’t understand yet.

“…I did notice.”

His gaze dropped to the last line again.

I think I liked you more quietly. It hurt less that way.

And suddenly—it made sense. Not in a comforting way. In a devastating one. All those moments. The way Jaehyun left too early. The way he avoided looking too long. The way he stood just close enough to feel it—but never close enough to stay.

Woonhak sank slowly onto the edge of the desk chair. The paper still in his hands. Still warm in a way it shouldn’t be.

“…You were there.” His voice cracked slightly.

“You were there the whole time.”

Outside, the wind moved. Soft. Unbothered.
Inside, Woonhak didn’t move at all.

Because for the first time, he understood what it meant to be too late without realizing the moment it happened.
And that was worse than loss. It was recognition.

And in the space between a page he almost lost
and a love he learned too late—
Woonhak held on,
even when spring had already let go.

And among the pages of the notebook he held was a torn paper, all crumbled and stained, one last attempt for hope.

I got reminded today why I fell for you in the first place, why I chose to put up with all this agony.
Next time… when the time comes, I hope things could be a little different.

Woonhak stared at it for a long time. The words didn’t feel like an ending. They felt like something paused mid-breath. Like a promise that hadn’t decided which life it belonged to yet.
And for some reason—that hurt more.