Chapter Text
"That's a good idea," Juntae says slowly. Beomseok can't even think of a way to argue. He just shakes his head miserably, knowing that Juntae just signed his death warrant with those words. What a betrayal!
Baku slams his fist on the table, making everyone in the room jump.
"That's an amazing idea!"
"You're only saying that because it was your idea in the first place," Hyuntak says, nudging him with the edge of his shoe as he stretches his sore leg across Baku's lap. "But I agree with him. It's time to solve this problem, Beomseok."
They are sitting on the porch of Hyuntak's parents countryside house. His mother kindly agreed to give them the keys to the empty house for the whole weekend, playfully wagging her finger and telling them to behave. They hadn't all gotten together in a while because of university exams, so they decided to celebrate the end of the last exam month together.
Hyuntak was half-lying on the bench, his legs stretched out across the lap of Baku, who was sitting next to him. Juntae settled beside them, fanning himself with someone's printouts. Outside, there was an unbearable sweltering heat, uncharacteristic for Korea, so the whole group of friends occasionally cast anxious glances toward Sieun, who was lying silently in the shade in a hammock. Everyone knew he didn't handle sudden climate changes well, and in this heat he wasn't capable of functioning properly.
"I don't have any problems," Beomseok says. He looked adorable, with all his hair pushed back from his face by a cute pink, cracked headband.
The heat had made him sluggish, and he would have happily lain down somewhere under a bench, limp and useless, and fallen asleep for a good three hours, if not for the delicate topic his friends had just brought up.
"You've got at least two big problems," Hyuntak continues, starting to count on his fingers. "First: you've been uselessly pining over Suho for a year now. And second: your crush doesn't even know you exist."
"Dude, that was harsh," Baku mutters.
"It's not a problem," Beomseok says with a shy shake of his head. He really doesn't think it's a problem.
"What's so wrong with him finding out?" Juntae asks carefully. His voice is calm and measured, genuinely curious, and he seems like the only sensible one in the group.
Beomseok leans back in his chair, feeling the conversation starting to dig a little too deep. He doesn't want to talk about his feelings, but he knows that keeping quiet will only make his friends pry even more confessions out of him. He wasn't prepared for them to corner him on a random Sunday.
"Nothing. I just don't want him to know. We're literally strangers… it's weird and awkward."
"There's nothing weird about it. And honestly, you're not even strangers at this point. You go to all his games, you follow his personal Insta, you even know where he works... Technically, you already know each other."
"From one side only," Hyuntak nods.
Beomseok wants to crawl under the bench and stay there for the rest of the day, because what the hell, they're actually discussing this...
"Guys, that's not really how it works." Juntae sighs, already exhausted because he knows he's the one who has to be the voice of reason. "But Baku's idea isn't bad. If you can't confess to him face to face, why not write a note? Write it out, tell him how you feel, and leave your number. If he's interested, he'll reach out. If not, you won't get a call, and you won't have to deal with the kind of direct rejection you'd risk if you messaged him on KakaoTalk or walked up to him in person."
It sounded so simple, but Beomseok knew better than anyone how terrifying it was to open up to someone who didn't even know you existed. More than anything in the world, he was afraid of being rejected.
He'd been secretly into Suho for over a year now, and Suho obviously had no idea. It all started with a random bump on campus, when Suho ran into Beomseok and sent his stuff flying everywhere. Suho quickly picked it all up, shoved it back into Beomseok's bag, gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder, apologized, and left. That was the only real interaction they'd ever had, but it was so vivid that Beomseok still thinks about it before bed, hiding his face in his hands and shyly rolling around on his mattress. He still dreams about that warm hand on his shoulder and that kind, teasing glint in Suho's eyes.
And that's how it all started. Baku knows pretty much everyone on campus, so it was easy for him to dig up some info on Beomseok's mysterious crush that wouldn't get out of his head. They found out his name is Suho, he's in the sports department, and he does martial arts. Pretty popular guy in his major, good looking, athletic, kind and fair - the type who always helps people out when they're in trouble.
The perfect embodiment of first love in Beomseok's eyes, who had never known love in any of its forms.
He also found his personal account and followed it with a fake profile, too shy to show public interest first. A bunch of photos with friends, classmates, fellow athletes, pretty girls, compilations of pictures from parties and trips, filled with bright smiles and fun.
Suho was the center of every group, he lived the way Beomseok never knew how, he was like a star that Beomseok could never reach.
Scrolling through someone else's account and looking at that happy, beautiful face, Beomseok felt like a gray blur.
This was why he was so adamantly against even the thought of talking to the object of his affection. People like him shouldn't even try to steal the sun.
"Check Sieun's pulse, he's been quiet for too long," Beomseok says, changing the subject as he crumples a dirty napkin.
"He's been cold for like two hours already," Baku jokes, but gets up to shake his friend's shoulder.
Hyuntak lets out an annoyed groan as his legs slip off Baku's lap. "He can't die until he helps me with my final project, don't joke like that."
"I'm not dead," comes a quiet, broken voice from the hammock.
The next time this topic comes up is a week later, at the cafeteria table in the university.
"So, have you thought about it?" Baku steals a cutlet from Sieun's plate, quickly stuffing it into his mouth. Sieun doesn't react to it at all, picking at the leftover rice with his chopsticks. Outside, the insane heat still lingers, and they have to keep an eye on Sieun so he doesn't melt and slide under the table.
Beomseok waves his head vaguely, lowering his head toward his plate. All eyes are back on him, and he swallows nervously.
"I'm not sure it's a good idea," Beomseok says, adjusting his glasses with his index finger. "Even the thought of talking to him in the future terrifies me."
At the same time, at the other end of the cafeteria, Suho was sitting at a table with his friend. Beomseok had never really paid much attention to Suho's circle and didn't know anyone there, his gaze had always been fixed on only one person, but he immediately remembered this pale guy in glasses with a wolf cut. Beomseok didn't know his name, but he often saw him at Suho's table or in the university computer labs, with an energy drink in one hand and a mouse in the other. He looked grumpy, mean, and sarcastic, and Beomseok genuinely wondered how someone like Suho could have become friends with someone like that guy.
"See, even that jerk talks to him. What are you so afraid of?" Hyuntak asks loudly, noticing where Beomseok is looking, and Juntae has to smack him on the thigh when the people sitting nearby start turning their heads at his loud voice.
"Don't shout like that!"
"Do you know that guy?" Sieun chimes in.
"Unfortunately," Hyuntak says with a grimace of genuine disgust.
"Before transferring to Eunjang, Gogo had a bit of a history with Geum Seongje in middle school," Baku says. "They fought a lot. Like, a lot a lot. And Gogo didn't always win..."
"Hey!" Hyuntak reaches across the table in an attempt to strangle Baku. "Don't lie, I always came out of those fights as the winner!!"
Baku laughs loudly, and their table once again draws the attention of everyone in the cafeteria. Beomseok awkwardly turns his head away when he sees Suho's gaze shift in their direction.
At that moment, an unknown guy approaches Suho's table. He's wearing a sleeveless shirt and a bandana on his head. From his seat, Beomseok can only see a broad line of shoulders and muscular biceps; the stranger's face is turned the other way. Beomseok isn't sure if it's allowed to dress like that at their university. Like, what the hell is this athlete even doing here, showing off his muscles?...
The stranger sits down at the table, and now all of Suho and Seongje's attention turns to him.
And something about this ignited something in Beomseok… a sudden surge of adrenaline from nowhere, making him lift his head and look at Baku.
"I'll do it."
"What?"
"I'll do it," Beomseok repeats impulsively. "I'll write the note to Suho."
Baku and Hyuntak whistled in admiration, Juntae smiled, and even the sluggish Sieun raised his head in surprise. Not every day you hear such determination from someone who never took the initiative when it came to risky things.
"Great!" Baku claps his hands. "You write the note and Gotak and I will put it in Suho's locker. You're lucky that basketball players share a changing room with the MMA fighters."
"But do you actually know which locker is Suho's?" Sieun asks skeptically. "It would be a disaster if that note ended up in the wrong hands. It could put Beomseok in a really awkward position."
"Relax, we've got this."
Honestly, trusting your life (dramatic as that sounds) to guys like Hyuntak and Baku is just stupid and risky, but... If Beomseok doesn't go for it now, he never will. Plus, they're his friends. They have every reason to make sure this goes smoothly and without a hitch, so they don't end up finding Beomseok with his legs hanging off a balcony somewhere.
"I like you. I want to get to know you better. Here's my number: [110-387-671374]. I'll be waiting.
Beomseok."
"Is it really wise to include your name?" Sieun's skeptical question rings out again. He's the only one in the group who views this idea with caution. On the surface, it might seem like he doesn't care, but deep down, like everyone else, he worries about his friend's mental state if he faces rejection and silence. They all went to high school together and know all too well about Beomseok's mental health struggles. No one wants to go through that again, pulling their friend out of a closet by his legs.
"Yes," Beomseok says, unexpectedly calm and confident. "A note without a name will look like a joke. He might think someone is messing with him."
Baku and Hyuntak are not supposed to be in the sports section of the university at this time. Basketball practices are officially suspended for two weeks due to problems with the teaching staff. The basketball coach resigned after his team lost at the national competitions, so the basketball players are left to their own devices for half a month.
Because of the free gym, on the other hand, the martial artists' training sessions have become more frequent. Now they train almost every day in the gym, and catching the person they need won't be much of a problem.
Baku peers around the corner, staring intently at the locker room door. They need to make sure everyone has come out and no one will see them. If someone sees them rummaging through another sports team's belongings, Baku and Hyuntak will at the very least have to fight, and at worst, answer to the university committee.
"Maybe we should find one of Suho's friends and ask them to hand the note to him personally?" Hyuntak suggests, and this idea actually seems like the most reasonable one.
"That's no fun," Baku says, stepping out from their hiding spot and looking around. "Everyone's gone. Gogo, it's our turn."
Hyuntak lets out a disappointed sound, but his friend shushes him and gestures for him to follow.
They enter the locker room, quietly closing the door behind them. As expected, the room is empty, everyone's at practice. Some lockers are carelessly left ajar and not even locked. There's a bunch of scattered shoes on the floor, and near the door lies a carelessly thrown jacket that Hyuntak almost steps on.
"God, why are they such slobs," he says, carefully nudging the jacket aside with his foot.
"The basketball team is way cleaner in that regard."
They make their way to the second row of lockers, stopping at the window.
"Which one?" Hyuntak asks, nervously glancing toward the door. Anyone could walk into the locker room at any moment, and they could be in serious trouble.
"This one," Baku points to the farthest closed locker.
"How do you know this locker is Suho's?"
"I saw him getting his gloves out of it. It's definitely his locker."
"Alright, let's hurry before we get caught."
The moment Hyuntak says this, hurried footsteps are heard outside the door.
"Hurry, HURRY!!" Baku shoves the note through the little gap in the locker and dives behind the row of lockers. Hyuntak does the same, scrambling to hide on the other side of the room. Their big frames press flat against the wall in a totally awkward way as they try to stay hidden. Lucky for them, whoever was outside just walks past the locker room, and the sound of their footsteps fading away echoes like crazy in their heads.
Hyuntak lets out a relieved breath, sliding down to the floor. That was close.
"Did you get the note in?" he asks, massaging his knee.
"Yeah," Baku nods. "Into the side locker."
"Then it's done. Let's get out of here."
"God, I'm so tired today," Suho says loudly, stumbling into the locker room.
Wooyoung follows him in, unwrapping the sports tape from his knees. Lately, his legs have been hurting more than usual.
"You spent the whole day whining and wiping the corners of the ring with your head, what are you even tired from?" he says irritably, pulling off his shirt and throwing it at Suho. Suho picks it off himself with a grimace, holding it away with just his fingers. "And how long are you going to keep rummaging through my locker, you bastard?"
Suho opens the side locker that belongs to Wooyoung and puts his gloves inside.
"I only borrowed your gloves a couple of times for fights. My delivery is still delayed. Are you really that stingy?"
"For you, yes," Wooyoung says, turning away from him and brushing his damp hair back. Ideally, he needs a cool shower, a big bowl of noodles, and twelve hours of sleep on a soft bed with blackout curtains, but they agreed to meet up with that bastard Seongje after practice. He's holed up in his laptop again, working on a ton of programming assignments and climbing the League of Legends ranks at the same time. They need to check on that psycho and bring him food before he rots away at his computer desk.
Suho ignores the sharp reply, continuing to rummage through someone else's locker. He folds the bandages and rearranges the sports gear to make room for the gloves, when he hits the locker door hard with his hand. He hisses, pulling his hand back, and watches as a small piece of paper falls from the crack in the locker door to the floor.
"Since when do you keep trash in your sports locker?" Suho bends down to pick up the paper and quickly unfolds it.
"What are you talking about?" Wooyoung is still standing with his back to him, trying to catch his breath and talk himself out of strangling Suho and hiding his body in the gym basement.
"Someone left you a love letter," Suho whistles, holding out the paper to Wooyoung.
And that's how they wound up at Seongje's apartment. Suho was lying on the bed, hands behind his head, just humming to himself, deep in thought.
"Shut the fuck up," the owner of the apartment explodes. He's sitting at his laptop, clicking the mouse tensely. In his other hand, he's holding chopsticks, eating noodles and doing it so carefully that not a single drop of broth drips onto the table. The sound Suho was making was throwing him off.
"Yeah, Suho, shut the fuck up." Wooyoung was sitting across from the bed, on a chair next to Seongje, staring thoughtfully at the note, hypnotizing the neat handwriting with his gaze.
When Suho had handed him the note earlier, he was surprised. It's 2026… who still confesses through letters? Is this middle school? But either way, Wooyoung kept the note and kept staring at it. Something about it caught his attention. Maybe it was the brevity and simplicity, maybe the neat handwriting, maybe the unfamiliar name he didn't recognize. As popular and sought-after as Wooyoung was, he had never received a letter before. He moves in circles where the people around him are just like him - blunt and bold. They get to know each other openly and show interest just as openly.
Such shy notes were new to him.
"Beom-seok," Seongje says, drawing the name out syllable by syllable, almost tasting it. Wooyoung winces at his tone, like he's dissecting something under a microscope. "Any clue who that is?"
Wooyoung shakes his head.
"I don't know anyone by that name either," Suho pipes up.
"We're not surprised. Stay quiet," Seongje fires back immediately.
"Hey, what the hell? Why is everyone telling me to shut up today? What did I ever do to you?"
Wooyoung brings the note closer to his face, ignoring the noise in the background. Suho and Seongje could tear each other apart in this room for all he cares.
His focus is fixed solely on the tiny piece of paper with a phone number.
"If you're that curious, then write back and ask what the hell this loser is acting like a schoolkid for," Seongje says, returning to the topic after their five-minute squabble. "If not, just throw it out and both of you get the hell out of here. I need to finish my code by morning, and I'm tired of your asses hanging around."
"You're not writing code, you're trying to hit Master in League," Suho says.
"I'm taking a break from coding."
"Did you even sit down to work on your assignment today?"
"I worked on it all night. Unlike you, I actually study instead of wasting all my free time punching a bag senselessly."
"Go to hell."
"Fuck you."
"Hey," Wooyoung cuts in, yelling over the noise. Suho and Seongje could go at each other all day if no one stopped them. He'd have loved to join in, pick a side just to piss off the other, but now wasn't the time. Wooyoung turns to Seongje. "Find him."
"Who?" The bastard adjusts his glasses, looking thoroughly unimpressed..
"Beomseok."
"And how the hell am I supposed to find him?"
"You spend all day glued to your computer, stalking that basketball player's page and everyone who's ever so much as glanced at him. Finding someone when you already have their name shouldn't be hard. Especially since we're narrowing it down to our university. Come on, be a friend."
Wooyoung watches Seongje's eyes narrow in slight annoyance.
"You'll owe me one." And he turns back to his computer, pushing the bowl of noodles aside. The room sinks into a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft sound of keys and the clicking of a mouse.
After a while, Seongje speaks up:
"I found three people with that name. It really is rare, which made the search easier."
Wooyoung jolts up from his chair, leaning closer to the computer. Suho also stirs from his spot, edging nearer to the screen. Seongje shoots them an annoyed look, but continues:
"One has a girlfriend, so he's obviously out of the suspect list. Another transferred abroad last year on an exchange program and is studying there, so that's a no. That leaves only..."
Seongje clicks on someone's photo, scaling it to fill the entire screen. A second passes and...
Holy shit.
Wooyoung was not prepared for that view.
The guy in the photo looked like a painting. A messy mop of dark hair, a delicate, refined face, soft, almost fragile beauty. He was holding a small dog in his arms, just as fluffy as he was, and wasn't looking at the camera. Wooyoung stared at that distant squint.
He caught himself thinking that he was almost falling in love.
And it's always like this," Seongje's dissatisfied voice cuts through the silence of the room. "Some people are dying of thirst, and others are drowning."
"I've seen that guy somewhere before," Suho says, leaning back on the bed but keeping his eyes locked on the screen. "He looks familiar."
"You're sure that's him?" Wooyoung asks Seongje, still staring at the monitor like it holds all the answers.
"Yeah, yeah, it's obviously him. Wipe your drool off the floor. Now get the hell out, both of you."
Wooyoung snatches the computer mouse out of Seongje's hands and returns to Beomseok's page, takes a photo of his username, and then closes all of Seongje's browser tabs with a single click.
"Don't look at him anymore."
And he leaves.