Chapter 1: The Pres' is taken!
Chapter Text
Park Sungho was used to attention.
As Jamsin High's student council president, he was the school's pride and joy. And, well, it didn't really help that he had the face and personality of an angel. He was the guy who always had his tie perfectly straight, his homework done early, and his smile effortlessly charming.
Naturally, this meant he had admirers. A lot of them.
Not that it mattered. Because, unbeknownst to the entire school, Sungho was already taken.
And Taesan hated keeping it a secret.
Not because he wanted attention or anything. God, no.
He just… didn’t like watching people throw themselves at his boyfriend. The way students giggled when they asked Sungho for help, how they lingered around the student council room pretending they had questions—it was infuriating.
Today was no different.
Sungho was cornered outside the classroom, politely dodging yet another love confession from a third year who was way too close for comfort. Taesan, standing a few lockers away, watched with growing irritation.
And then, Sungho laughed. That soft, polite chuckle he always did when he didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.
That was it. Taesan snapped.
He strode over without hesitation, wrapping an arm around Sungho’s waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Hate to break it to ya,” Taesan said, smirking, “but your school pres' is already taken.”
Silence.
The third-year’s eyes widened. The hallway went dead quiet. And Sungho—sweet, composed, beloved Sungho—turned bright red.
“T-T-Tae—” Sungho sputtered, his usual eloquence destroyed in a single blow.
Taesan, enjoying this far too much, leaned in a little. “What? You gonna deny it?”
Sungho opened his mouth, then closed it. His hands twitched like he wanted to push Taesan away but didn’t know how.
This was NOT how he planned on coming out.
The third year, still frozen, looked between them. “Wait… what?”
“Yup,” Taesan said, popping the ‘p.’ “President’s off the market. Sorry, better luck next time.” He tightened his hold around Sungho's waist before moving his hand to his wrist and turned them both away. “We’ll be going now~”
Sungho let himself be dragged off, too stunned to protest. It wasn’t until they reached the empty stairwell that he fell to the ground and let out a strangled noise, covering his face with both hands.
“Taesan!” he hissed, peeking between his fingers. “Why would you say that?!”
Taesan grinned. “What, you didn’t want them to know?”
“I— I mean—” Sungho groaned. “I wasn’t ready! And now everyone knows!”
“Good.” Taesan shrugged. “Now they’ll stop throwing themselves at you. You’re mine, after all.”
Sungho let out another tiny, flustered whine and hid his face in Taesan’s shoulder.
Taesan just chuckled. If he knew Sungho, the news would be all over the school within at least 40 minutes. But honestly? He didn’t care.
Now, everyone knew exactly who Park Sungho belonged to.
And Han Taesan liked it that way.
By lunchtime, the entire school knew.
Now, don't get him wrong-- Sungho absolutely loved his friends, they were the best. But sometimes... they can be a bit...
There's Jaehyun, the laid-back vice president of the student council, is always quick to tease Sungho, poking fun at his perfect persona. He catches onto rumors faster than anyone, and he never passes up an opportunity for a witty remark.
Riwoo, the calm and collected treasurer, prefers to keep things organized. But he’s always watching—observing the chemistry between Sungho and Taesan, though he stays quiet... for now.
Sungho barely stepped foot into the student council room before Jaehyun and Sanghyeok pounced at him.
Jaehyun smirked, crossing his arms. “So... Secret boyfriend, huh?”
Sungho groaned, dropping his head onto the table. “Ugh... Not you guys too..."
“Oh, absolutely us too,” Jaehyun said, leaning closer. “Do you know how fast the rumors spread? I had a first year ask me if Taesan forced you to date him.”
Sanghyeok, ever the calm observer, tapped his chin. “I think the real question is… how did we not know? We’re literally together all the time.”
Sungho peeked up, his face still pink. “We were discreet!”
Jaehyun and Sanghyeok deadpanned while sharing a look.
“…Sungho, I caught you staring at Taesan during the last meeting twice,” Sanghyeok said.
Jaehyun nodded sagely. “And you always get weirdly quiet when he shows up.”
Sungho groaned again, sliding further down in his chair. “I hate this.”
Meanwhile, Taesan had his own problems.
Leehan and Woonhak were relentless.
“So,” Woonhak said, barely containing his grin. “Our Han Taesan, our band president, the guy who once called the student council ‘boring losers,’ has been dating their president this whole time? Talk about cliche!"
Leehan smirked, tuning his guitar. “I feel betrayed. You could’ve at least told us.”
Taesan scoffed, slouching in his seat. “It wasn’t a secret, we just… didn’t tell anyone.”
“That’s literally the definition of a secret.”
Before Taesan could argue, the band room door flung open.
It was Sungho. Still visibly flustered. Behind him, Myung Jaehyun and Lee Sanghyeok were peeking through the door, trying-- and horribly failing-- to contain their laughter.
Taesan blinked. “Uh. Hi babe?”
Sungho marched up to him, eyes shining with determination. Then, before anyone could process it, he grabbed Taesan’s collar and—
kissed him.
The band room exploded.
Woonhak screamed. Leehan nearly dropped his guitar. Even Jaehyun and Sanghyeok started howling like hyenas from the door.
Sungho pulled away just as fast, face now completely red. “There! Now it’s really not a secret!”
Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and bolted. The other two trailing behind him while laughing hysterically.
The band room was silent for a solid five seconds.
Then, Woonhak fell to the floor, cackling. “SUNGHO-HYUNG JUST—”
Leehan wiped an imaginary tear. “Damn. I think he just out-Taesan’d Taesan.”
Taesan, still stunned, slowly grinned. “…Yeah. Yeah, he did.”
And honestly? He really liked it.
The moment Sungho left the band room, he regretted everything. While on his way to the council room, he took a sudden detour to the bathroom and sat on the floor.
When he put his hand on his chest, his heart was pounding.
What did he just do?
In front of Woonhak and Leehan of all people?? They were never going to let him live this down.
And he was right.
By the time he made it back to the student council room, Jaehyun and Sanghyeok were already waiting for him, pretending as if they hadn't just ran back from the same place after dumping Sungho there.
“So…” Jaehyun drawled, leaning against the desk, “I just got an interesting text from Woonhak.”
Sungho froze. “…What.”
Sanghyeok held up his phone, replaying the scene, looking mildly impressed. “You kissed him? In front of everyone?” And by everyone, he meant the band members and them.
Sungho slapped both hands over his face. “I panicked.”
Jaehyun grinned. “No, this is great. I mean, I was expecting you to deny everything for at least another week. But instead, you had a full-blown dramatic moment. Who knew you had it in you, yeppi-yah?~”
Sungho let out a strangled groan. “I wasn’t thinking, okay?! I just—” He waved his hands in the air. “—he looked so smug about everything, and Woonhak said that to him, and I just—did it!”
Jaehyun burst out laughing. “Oh my god. This is the best thing that’s ever happened.”
Riwoo, watching Sungho practically vibrate in his chair, finally sighed and patted his shoulder. “Well, at least now no one will question it anymore.”
Sungho groaned again. “I need to go into hiding.”
Meanwhile, back in the band room, Woonhak was still rolling on the floor.
“I cannot believe he just did that!” Woonhak wheezed, clutching his stomach. “He kissed you and then ran away!”
Leehan smirked, nodding approvingly. “Honestly? That was kind of badass.”
Taesan, still replaying the moment in his head, just chuckled. “Yeah.” His lips curled into a smirk. “Yeah, it was.”
Then, because he had absolutely no shame, he whipped out his phone, snapped a selfie, and texted it to Sungho with a simple message:
Taesan: You missed. Try again later? 😘
And somewhere across campus, Park Sungho—who was already struggling to survive—took one look at his phone and collapsed onto his desk.\
Jaehyun took one glance at the screen and burst out laughing again.
Later that evening, Sungho was still hiding in the student council room when Taesan found him.
Leaning against the doorframe, Taesan smirked. “So. You’re alive.”
Sungho, face still buried in his arms, mumbled, “Barely.”
Taesan chuckled, walking over. “You really didn’t have to go that far, y’know.”
Sungho peeked up at him, still blushing. “…You smirked at me.”
Taesan raised a brow. “And?”
“And I hate when you do that! You always look like you’re winning something!”
Taesan snorted. “I was winning something.” He nudged Sungho’s chin up with a finger. “You.”
Sungho made another flustered noise and swatted his hand away, but Taesan just laughed.
“C’mon,” Taesan said, grabbing his waist and pulling Sungho towards him. “Let’s get out of here before Jaehyun and Sanghyeok come back to torment you again.”
Sungho sighed, letting himself be pulled along.
Maybe the whole school knowing wasn’t that bad.
…But he was still never living this down.
Chapter 2: HOW? pt.1
Summary:
how these 2 opposites even managed to get together
(from sungho's pov)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Park Sungho did not plan on falling for Han Taesan.
In fact, if anyone had told him 2 years ago that he would, he would have awkwardly laughed in their face and deny it.
Because back then, Sungho had one, and only one opinion on Han Taesan:
Infuriating.
Han Taesan was the kind of guy who showed up late to morning classes with an unbothered grin, who barely studied yet still managed to get just one mark higher than the passing grade. The kind of guy who somehow always knew exactly how, when and where to mess with everyone and anyone.
Sungho made it his personal mission to never interact with Han Taesan. But the first time he actually did, he had no choice.
In their first year, Sungho had just been setting his reputation as a candidate for student council president, and Taesan...
Well, Taesan was already making a name for himself, but...
He was making his name known as the school’s most charismatic headache.
Their first real interaction was when Sungho caught him skipping an entire student assembly.
Sungho was given a list of the students that were marked here for their earlier periods but had somehow disappeared when all the students made their way to the hall. The teacher, having heard about Sungho and how he was the soon-to-be student council president, had asked for his help to find some of the students.
After running around the school and finding students like hide and seek, he found himself standing by the staircase to the rooftop.
As he made his way up, his eyes fell upon a student lounging in the middle of the rooftop.
Of course, said student was none other than Han Taesan.
Sungho swore under his breath before making his way to the boy.
“Han Taesan,” Sungho had said sternly, arms crossed. “Why aren’t you at the assembly?”
Taesan glanced up from his phone, utterly unfazed. “Didn’t feel like it.”
Sungho’s grip on the clipboard tightened. “That’s not an excuse.”
“Sure it is.” The half-blonde hair-coloured boy replied, going back to scrolling on his phone.
Sungho's eye twitched. He squat down next to the boy before gently prying the phone away from his hands.
“Students aren't allowed to dye their hair. And phones aren't allowed during school hours. Do you just not care about the school rules?”
Taesan sat up straight and smirked. “Not really. Do you?” He retorted as he turned to look the other way and pulled out a second phone from god-knows where.
Sungho nearly exploded on the spot.
Why the hell does this guy have two phones?
And from that moment on... Taesan seemed to make it his personal mission to annoy him.
He would wave at him exaggeratedly in the hallways, pretending they were best friends. (Of course, everyone just whispered on about feeling bad for Sungho)
He'd pop into his homeroom class just to say “hi” or to drag Sungho out for absolutely no reason and running away.
He'd somehow always manage to sit next to him during their shared classes despite the seating chart saying otherwise.
Of course, the universe, however, had other plans. Because along the way, Sungho actually found himself having fun and being amused with Taesan's antics.
It was driving Sungho insane.
So insane, in fact, that it took him an embarrassing amount of time to realize that he was, in fact, hopelessly falling for him.
Sungho himself didn't even know how it happened or where it started...
But he knew one thing-- never in 400 years would he ever admit it to anyone.
The first time Sungho realized he had a Taesan problem was during midterms.
The library was quiet, save for the occasional shuffling of papers and the hushed whispers of late-night studiers.
It was well past curfew for most students, meaning there was little to no one left. But as the student council president, Sungho had special permission to stay late for "academic purposes."
And technically, studying with Han Taesan did count as academic… even if the other didn’t always take it seriously.
Sungho glanced up from his notebook, not even bothering to suppress his sigh.
Across from him, Taesan was spinning a pen between his fingers, head resting on one hand, looking thoroughly uninterested in the math problems in front of him.
“You’re not studying,” Sungho pointed out.
Taesan grinned, tilting his head. “I am. I’m studying you.”
Sungho’s grip on his pen tightened. “Taesan.”
“What? You’re way more interesting than derivatives or polynomial functions.”
Sungho opened his mouth to go on a rant about why maths is important for them and how he should start taking it seriously-- but stopped when Taesan’s foot nudged his under the table. He swallowed. This wasn’t fair.
Taesan was always like this— too smooth, too confident. And the worst part was, it always worked.
“You’re impossible,” Sungho muttered, ducking his head and pretending to focus on his textbook.
Taesan just smirked and leaned closer. “And yet, you still agree to study with me.”
Sungho ignored him, but his ears burned. He flipped a page in his textbook, trying to concentrate, but it was difficult when Taesan’s presence was so… there.
The soft scratch of his pen, the way he occasionally hummed under his breath, the casual drumming of his fingers on the table—it was distracting in a way that had nothing to do with noise.
Minutes passed in tense silence, or at least, tense for Sungho. Taesan, on the other hand, looked utterly at ease, his long legs stretching under the table until his knee bumped into Sungho’s again.
The first time, Sungho thought it was an accident. The second time, he knew better.
“You’re doing it on purpose,” he accused, glaring at Taesan over the rim of his book.
Taesan didn’t even try to deny it. He just grinned, slow and knowing. “Maybe.”
Sungho huffed, forcing himself to look back at his notes. “Shouldn’t you be worried about your grade?”
“I have a genius student council president tutoring me. What’s there to worry about?”
“That’s not how tutoring works,” Sungho retorted, but his voice lacked any bite.
Taesan leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand. “Then teach me, Mr. President. I’m all ears.”
Sungho sighed, trying to ignore the way the title sounded coming from Taesan’s lips, low and amused.
He turned his notebook towards Taesan, pointing at the problem they were supposed to be working on. “For this question—”
Before he could finish, Taesan reached out, fingers wrapping lightly around Sungho’s wrist.
Sungho froze.
“Relax,” Taesan murmured, thumb brushing against his pulse point. “You’re so tense.”
Sungho yanked his hand back like he’d been burned, his face heating up. “If you’re not going to study, then go bother someone else.”
Taesan didn’t move, he just smirked. “But I like bothering you.”
Yeah, no. He was doomed.
The second time Sungho realized he had a Taesan problem was during their annual school festival.
While the rest of the student council ran around making sure everything went smoothly, Sungho had somehow been dragged into one of the booths.
Specifically, the band booth —where Taesan, as the band president, was supposed to be helping but was instead perched on the edge of a table, strumming lazily at his guitar.
“You’re slacking off,” Sungho noted, arms crossed.
Taesan barely looked up. “You’re here. That’s enough of a reward for everyone.”
Sungho scoffed. “I’m not a prize.”
“You’re right.” Taesan smirked. “You’re a limited-edition collectible.”
Sungho opened his mouth, then closed it. “What is wrong with you?”
Before he could attempt to process the sheer absurdity of Taesan’s words, Taesan reached out, fingers curling around his wrist. It was barely a touch—light, easy to shake off—but it sent a jolt up Sungho’s spine nonetheless.
“Sneak out with me,” Taesan murmured, voice low and coaxing.
Sungho blinked. “What?”
“There’s a rooftop spot behind the gym. No one goes there during events.”
For a second, Sungho hesitated. He had responsibilities. He had a schedule to follow. He had—
Taesan, watching him with that same easy confidence, like he already knew what Sungho’s answer would be.
Sungho exhaled sharply. “Fine. Just for a bit.”
Taesan grinned like he’d won something. “Knew you’d say yes.”
“I can still change my mind.”
“But you won’t.”
Sungho huffed and pulled his wrist free, ignoring the way Taesan’s thumb briefly brushed over his skin before letting go.
He absolutely did not feel his pulse stutter. That would be ridiculous.
“Get back to work,” he muttered, mostly to himself, and turned on his heel before Taesan could say something even more insufferable.
Sungho wasn’t sure why he was here.
The festival was still in full swing below, the music from the main stage a distant hum, but the rooftop behind the gym was quiet, save for the faint rustling of trees and the occasional echo of laughter from the schoolyard.
Sungho leaned against the railing, arms crossed, gaze fixed anywhere but the boy sitting beside him.
Taesan had dragged an old cushion over from God-knows-where and sprawled onto it, arms tucked behind his head as he gazed up at the sky. “See? Nice, right?”
Sungho clicked his tongue. “You could’ve at least helped your own booth before running off.”
“I did. I helped them by leaving. That way, they actually got things done.”
Sungho turned to glare at him, but Taesan just grinned, completely unbothered.
A beat passed. Then another. The wind was cool against Sungho’s skin, a relief from the warmth of the crowded festival below. Maybe this wasn’t the worst idea.
Then Taesan spoke again. “Have you ever thought about running away?”
Sungho frowned. “What?”
“You know, ditching school, hopping on a train somewhere, not telling anyone where you’re going.”
Sungho gave him a skeptical look. “That sounds like a great way to get disowned.”
Taesan chuckled. “Yeah, probably. But wouldn’t it be nice? Just for a day?”
Sungho didn’t answer right away. He had never thought about it. He had always been too busy moving forward, meeting expectations, sticking to the plan. The idea of stopping— of choosing something just because he wanted to— felt foreign.
“…I guess.”
Taesan hummed. “If you ever do, let me know. I’ll come with you.”
Sungho snorted. “Why would I even tell you?”
“So you won’t be alone.”
Something about the way Taesan said it made Sungho pause.
He glanced down, watching the way Taesan absently twirled a guitar pick between his fingers.
For a moment, he looked almost serious, lost in thought.
Sungho swallowed. This was getting weirdly personal. “Don’t you have a performance later? Shouldn’t you be preparing?”
Taesan grinned up at him. “Nah. I play better under pressure.”
“Or you just don’t prepare.”
“Same thing.”
Sungho rolled his eyes but didn’t bother arguing. He let his gaze wander to the festival lights flickering in the distance. He could hear the faint cheers of students, the occasional burst of a microphone cutting in and out. He should be down there, making sure everything was running smoothly.
And yet, he stayed.
“…I should go,” he said finally, but he didn’t move.
Taesan shifted, propping himself up on one elbow. His eyes were sharp, but there was something softer there, too. “Yeah?”
Sungho clenched his jaw. “Yeah.”
Taesan studied him for a moment, then leaned in slightly, voice dropping just enough to make Sungho’s pulse flicker. “Then why aren’t you?”
Sungho opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His throat felt dry.
He hated when Taesan did this— when he looked at him like he had him all figured out, like he could see right through whatever excuses Sungho wanted to make.
He took a slow step back. “Don’t be annoying.”
"Too late." Taesan smirked, but there was something weird about it. He looked... unsure.
Sungho turned to leave—
Until Taesan grabbed his wrist and pulled him down to sit next to him.
"Yah--"
"Nevermind. Please stay." He said with his gazed fixed on his guitar.
Sungho paused for a beat before sighing, shaking his head, but for some reason, he didn’t move to get up.
And Taesan, still keeping his eyes fixed on his guitar, didn’t say anything else. Instead, he just leaned back against the cushion, fingers idly strumming a silent rhythm against his knee.
The festival noise faded into the background. And for just a little longer, neither of them moved.
Now, they were right beside each other sitting in silence.
Sungho's gaze was directed at the sky, yet he could still feel Taesan's intense gaze right at him.
"Ugh... What are you staring at? Is there something on my face?" Sungho said while his hand flew to his cheek, rubbing it a bit.
The band president didn't say anything. He slowly reached out to Sungho's face before cupping it in his hands and slowly lifting Sungho's head to face him.
Sungho turned to tell him off, expecting the other to be wearing his usual playful, teasing smirk.
But he was only met with Taesan's eyes, staring straight at him, yet not into his eyes.
“…What?” Sungho asked, trying to ignore the sudden hammering of his heart.
Taesan just shrugged and let go, popping a piece of candy that he pulled out of his pocket into his mouth.
“Nothing. Just thinking that you’re cute when you’re not stressing out over everything.”
Sungho choked on air.
The third time Sungho had a Taesan problem, it was late in the evening, and they were the only ones left in the band room.
It had started out normal enough— well, as normal as things can get with Han Taesan. Sungho had just finished up his student council duties for the day and, for some reason, had let himself be dragged here instead of heading home like a normal, responsible student president would do.
“Just listen to this,” Taesan had said, tugging him down onto the couch against the wall, guitar already in his hands. “Tell me if it sounds good or if I should scrap it.”
Sungho had scoffed, crossing his arms. “Since when do you take my opinion seriously?”
Taesan had grinned, plucking the first few notes. “Since you started showing up every time I ask.”
Sungho didn’t dignify that with a response, instead settling in as Taesan began to play.
The melody was soft, unpolished but undeniably Taesan— light, teasing, with just enough emotion underneath to make Sungho listen a little closer. He found himself watching the way Taesan’s fingers moved effortlessly over the strings, the way his brow furrowed slightly in concentration.
His focus was broken off when Taesan glanced at him. "Hmm?"
“You’re staring.” His lips started to curve into his usual smirk.
Sungho blinked, snapped out of his thoughts. “I was listening.”
He'd like to think that he was immune to the boy's remarks now.
“Same thing,” Taesan said easily, his fingers still moving over the frets. “So? What’s the verdict?”
Sungho exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not bad.”
“Not bad?!” Taesan gasped in mock offense. “So stingy with your praise, Mr. President.”
Sungho rolled his eyes. “You don’t need me to stroke your ego.”
Taesan hummed, setting his guitar down beside him. “Maybe not. But I like hearing what you think.”
There was something in the way he said it— lighthearted, but with a weight to it that made Sungho shift in his seat. He huffed, turning away. “You’re annoying.”
“And you’re predictable,” Taesan shot back, leaning in just slightly. “Always reacting exactly how I expect.”
Sungho leaned further back and narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Taesan’s grin faded just a bit, but there was still a faint twinkle in his eyes. The space between them seemed to shrink, the silence growing heavier, thicker.
The air felt strangely tight, like it was charged with something unspoken, something that neither of them wanted to address.
Sungho could feel the weight of Taesan’s gaze on him— steady, expectant.
It was different from the usual teasing, the usual easy banter. It was almost too intense. Too much.
“I don’t know.” Taesan’s voice was softer now, quieter, and Sungho could barely hear the words over the sound of his own heartbeat thudding in his chest. “Maybe you’re just scared to admit it.”
Scared of what? Sungho opened his mouth, but the words got stuck somewhere deep in his throat.
The way Taesan was looking at him made his stomach twist, made his chest feel tight, like the walls of the room were closing in.
He was so close now— too close— and Sungho couldn’t bring himself to move away. He couldn’t even breathe.
“Scared to admit what?” Sungho finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it aloud would make everything worse.
Taesan’s grin returned, but this time it was different— harder, more knowing, like he already had Sungho figured out.
Like he knew exactly what was going on inside Sungho’s head, what he wasn’t saying. “You know,” he murmured, leaning in just a little further.
And then, without warning, Taesan’s lips were on his cheek—soft, but firm. A kiss that lingered, long enough to make Sungho’s breath catch in his throat.
Sungho froze.
The moment felt suspended in time, the world outside the room fading into nothing. He could feel the heat of Taesan’s lips on his skin, the faint brush of his breath against his ear, and for one agonizing moment, Sungho didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t speak. His pulse was roaring in his ears, drowning out everything else.
Then, as if the world had suddenly come rushing back, Sungho turned to look at Taesan, wide-eyed, his voice cracking when he finally spoke. “Did you just—?”
Taesan didn’t back away. He didn’t apologize. He just stared at Sungho, his expression unreadable, his eyes dark.
There was a quiet intensity in the air now, something thick and charged between them, something Sungho couldn’t put into words. Something that felt dangerous.
“You looked like you needed a reward.”
The words hit Sungho like a slap, and he felt his entire body go cold, like he’d been caught in a sudden, unexpected storm. He shook his head, trying to make sense of it all, but the pieces wouldn’t fit together. It was as if the ground beneath him had shifted, and he wasn’t sure where he stood anymore.
“A— A reward?! For what?!” Sungho couldn’t help how his voice suddenly went three octaves higer, his hands shaking as he instinctively pulled back, a burst of heat rushing to his face. “I— I didn’t— I didn’t—”
“For falling for me first.”
The words slipped out so easily, so casually, as if Taesan had been waiting to say them for a long time. Sungho’s breath hitched, his heart skipping a beat, but there was a fluttering sensation in his stomach, something that didn’t quite add up.
There was a sharp edge to Taesan’s smile, like he was holding back something. Like there was more to the story, but he wasn’t ready to tell it yet.
Sungho opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. His heart was pounding in his chest, so loudly that it drowned out everything else. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t process. He couldn’t deal with this, not now. Not like this.
He made a high-pitched noise, the weight of everything crashing down on him. His hands flew to his face in a futile attempt to shield himself from the overwhelming wave of confusion and uncertainty that had taken over him.
“I hate you.” His voice came out muffled, like he couldn’t even recognize it as his own.
Taesan didn’t move to comfort him. He didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he simply reached forward and gently pried Sungho’s hands away from his face, his fingers warm and steady.
“No, you don’t,” Taesan said softly, his voice a mix of knowing and something deeper—something unspoken.
And, well, yeah. He didn’t.
Notes:
i was gonna finish this with one more chapter buutttt i kinda made it too long so im gonna separate it into 2...
anyways, hope you enjoyed🙏🙏
and dont mind the mysterious vibe thingy during the kiss scene its the only way 💔
Chapter 3: HOW? pt.2
Summary:
taesans pov and thoughts throughout everything!!
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Han Taesan had noticed Park Sungho long before Sungho even knew he existed.
Not that Taesan would ever say that out loud.
It wasn't his fault, really. Sungho was the kind of guy who made himself impossible to ignore.
He was the kind of guy who walked through the hallways like he had somewhere important to be, always neat, always prepared, always acting like the rules actually mattered.
The kind of guy who stayed after class to ask teachers questions. The guy who actually took notes instead of doodling in his notebook. The kind of guy who got way too serious about things like school elections and class responsibilities.
And, as if that wasn't enough, the guy was practically worshiped by the entire school.
Han Taesan didn't get it.
People tripped over themselves to greet Sungho in the hallways. Students whispered his name like he was some kind of legend. And the teachers actually smiled when they saw him.
And worst of all—there were confessions. So many confessions.
At least once a week, some nervous-looking student would show up outside Sungho’s class with a love letter or a box of chocolates, stammering through a confession while their friends giggled in the distance.
And Park Sungho— annoyingly perfect, ever-polite Park Sungho— would always let them down so gently it almost made Taesan roll his eyes out of his skull.
What was so great about him anyway?
Taesan didn’t know why it bugged him so much. It wasn’t like he cared. He just… didn’t get it.
…Though, if he had to admit something, there was something about the way Sungho carried himself— sharp-eyed and steady, effortlessly composed even under pressure— that was, maybe, a little impressive.
Not that Taesan thought about it. Or noticed. Or anything.
But it wasn’t just that. It was the way Sungho always seemed so put together. Like the kind of person who’d never do something reckless, who always knew exactly what he was doing. Taesan wouldn't be surprised if he had his entire life planned out in some color-coded notebook with a bunch of cats as the front cover.
Taesan had half a mind to mess with him, just to see if he could get that perfect composure to crack.
But he hadn’t actually spoken to Sungho— until Sungho found him.
It was time for their year-level assembly, and the idea of skipping was really tempting.
He didn’t need to sit through some hour-long speech about school values or whatever. He already knew the gist: Don’t make trouble.
So, obviously, he was going to make trouble.
Taesan hadn’t even hesitated. The last thing he wanted was to sit in a crowded hall, listening to teachers drone on about responsibility when he could be enjoying the fresh air instead.
Instead, he stretched out on the rooftop, scrolling through his phone, basking in his own brilliance—until a shadow loomed over him.
Weird. No one usually came up here.
"Han Taesan."
Taesan blinked, glancing up. Oh.
Park Sungho. Arms crossed. Student council wannabe, dressed like a model student but glaring like an overworked teacher.
Taesan raised an eyebrow. Well. This was interesting.
Sungho’s entire posture radiated disapproval. “Han Taesan.”
“Hm?” Taesan tilted his head, feigning innocence.
"Why aren't you at the assembly?"
Taesan smirked. "Didn't feel like it."
Sungho exhaled sharply through his nose, like he was physically restraining himself from launching into a full-blown rant. “That’s not an excuse.”
“Sure it is.”
Sungho took a deep, slow breath, gripping his clipboard like it was a lifeline.
Taesan could already tell he was about to get a very boring lecture.
So, naturally, he went back to his phone.
That was a mistake.
Because Sungho crouched down—and snatched it right out of his hands.
Taesan blinked. "Woah."
"Students aren't allowed to dye their hair. And phones aren’t allowed during school hours," Sungho recited like a law-abiding citizen. "Do you just not care about the school rules?"
Taesan sat up properly, eyeing him. "Not really. Do you?"
Sungho's mouth opened, probably to scold him again—
And then Taesan, very slowly, reached into his other pocket and pulled out his actual phone.
Sungho stiffened.
His entire face twisted into sheer, absolute horror.
It was, without exaggeration, the funniest thing Taesan had ever seen in his life.
The way Sungho blinked at the two phones, the slow realization dawning over him like a glitching robot trying to process an error message —
Taesan would be living off this moment for weeks .
Sungho made a sound. A strangled mix between a sigh, a groan, and the unspoken question of whether it was too early in the school year to request a transfer.
"Look," he said finally, voice tight with exhaustion, "Ugh. I don't have time for... this. Just— come with me."
Oh?
Taesan tilted his head. "Come with you where?"
"Back to the assembly."
Taesan grinned. "What if I don’t want to?"
"Then I'll report you."
"Ooooh," Taesan drawled. "I'm so scared."
Sungho's eye twitched.
Taesan nearly lost it. This was way too easy.
He flopped dramatically onto his back, arms behind his head. "Tell you what. I'll go back— if you can get me to move."
Sungho just stared at him. "...What?"
"You heard me," Taesan said. "Go on, Student Council Boy. Make me. "
For a split second, he actually thought Sungho was about to physically drag him off the rooftop. (Which, admittedly, would be kind of hot if it wasn’t, you know, potentially life-threatening.)
But instead, Sungho just took a deep breath, muttered something suspiciously like a curse, and turned to leave.
"Fine. Do whatever you want."
…
Wait. What?
That was it?
Taesan blinked. Huh. That wasn’t the reaction he expected.
He watched as Sungho stomped off, shoulders tense, back straight.
And then, something weird happened.
Instead of feeling satisfied, Taesan felt… bored.
Because somehow, it wasn’t as fun if Sungho just gave up.
And that was the moment he decided:
This wasn’t going to be their last conversation.
Not by a long shot.
From that moment on, Taesan made it his personal mission to mess with Sungho.
At first, it was just to amuse himself. Then, it became a challenge. Could he get a different reaction every time? A twitch of the eyebrow? A stifled groan? The holy grail— a full-blown glare?
At this point, it was practically scientific research for him.
He would wave at him exaggeratedly in the hallways, calling out “Park Sungho!!” just to see Sungho’s eye twitch as students murmured in sympathy for their beloved president.
He’d pop into his homeroom class, lean against the doorframe like he had something important to say, and then just go, “Just checking if you missed me,” before running away before Sungho could react.
He’d somehow always end up next to him in their shared classes, despite the seating chart. (It wasn’t his fault if people moved around, and an empty seat next to Sungho was just begging to be taken.)
But somewhere along the way, something changed.
Because the more Taesan pushed, the more Sungho started to push back.
At first, it was subtle. A sharper glare. A firmer, “Han Taesan, get lost.”
But then, one day, Taesan caught something unexpected—a flicker of amusement in Sungho’s expression.
And then, another day, he swore he saw the corner of Sungho’s lips twitch.
And then, suddenly, Sungho wasn’t just tolerating him. He was actually responding.
Snarking back, rolling his eyes but not actually walking away, even sighing in that long-suffering way that made it sound like he’d just accepted Taesan’s presence in his life.
Taesan should’ve been thrilled. This was exactly what he wanted—proof that even someone like Park Sungho wasn’t completely untouchable.
But then came the part Taesan didn’t expect.
The part where he started noticing other things.
Like how Sungho always smelled like a mix of honey straight from the flowers itself and chamomile tea leaves combined. (No, not chamomile tea-- chamomile tea leaves.)
Or how his brows furrowed in concentration whenever he was reading through something.
Or how— when Taesan really annoyed him— his ears would go red before his face ever did.
And suddenly, teasing Sungho wasn’t just about getting a reaction.
Suddenly, he found himself waiting for Sungho’s exasperated sighs.
Suddenly, it wasn’t just fun anymore. It was... something else.
Something that made his stomach twist in a way that was definitely not normal.
Taesan had no idea how it happened.
Or when it started.
But he knew one thing—he really didn’t want to think about what it meant.
So instead, he did the only thing he could do.
He kept messing with Park Sungho.
...For totally normal reasons.
The first time Taesan realized he had a Sungho problem was during detention.
It wasn’t his first time there— far from it— but it was the first time he actually considered that maybe, just maybe, he was making his life harder on purpose.
Because sitting across from him, arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line, was none other than Park Sungho—student council president, model student, and current bane of Taesan’s existence.
Park Sungho.
2nd-year student council president. Model student. Campus darling.
Taesan had seen it all— students handing Sungho confessions, teachers practically beaming when he answered in class, even underclassmen whispering his name like he was some kind of untouchable legend.
It was honestly so annoying.
But somehow, Taesan found himself watching. More than he meant to.
Taesan stretched lazily in his seat, watching as Sungho diligently wrote something in a logbook. Most likely a report on his behavior, because apparently, being loud in the hallways was a crime now.
Sungho, ever so responsible, had personally taken charge of watching over his detention. Which meant Taesan was now stuck in an empty classroom after school with no one but his favorite person in the whole world.
Taesan tapped a pencil against the desk. Sungho ignored him.
He did it again. Sungho ignored him harder.
He did it a third time. Sungho looked up and met his eyes with the blankest, most exhausted expression Taesan had ever seen.
For a moment, Taesan was actually impressed.
“You’re writing too fast,” he said, chin propped in his hand.
Sungho didn’t look up. “That’s kind of the point.”
“You’re not going to entertain me even a little?” Taesan drawled.
Sungho finally looked up, unimpressed. “This is detention, not a social club.”
Taesan gasped dramatically. “Are you saying my charm isn’t working on you?”
“It’s never worked,” Sungho said flatly.
“You wound me.” Taesan clutched his chest. “I think I need to lie down.”
“Please do. Preferably somewhere far away.”
Taesan grinned. There it is.
Sungho huffed and went back to writing.
Taesan tilted his head, watching the way Sungho’s pen moved across the page, the way his sleeves were neatly folded up to his elbows, the way his fingers tapped against the desk every time he paused to think—
Before he could stop himself, he reached out and flicked Sungho’s pen.
It rolled off the desk and hit the floor with a clack.
Sungho stared at him.
Taesan just smiled, resting his chin in his palm. “Oops.”
For a second, he thought Sungho was about to throw hands.
Instead, Sungho inhaled sharply, pressed his lips together, and calmly leaned down to pick up the pen.
The second he reached for it, Taesan nudged it with his foot, sending it rolling just out of reach.
Sungho froze. Then, very slowly, he lifted his head, eyes empty.
“Han. Taesan.”
Sungho closed his eyes for a long, exhausted moment, as if praying for patience.
Taesan thought it was adorable.
Taesan bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “Yes, Mr. President? ”
Sungho cursed under his breath. He inhaled through his nose, clearly trying to stay calm. He reached for his pen again, this time faster— so Taesan kicked it just a little further.
“Oops,” Taesan said again, watching Sungho’s jaw tighten. “I swear, my foot just moved on its own.”
Sungho closed his eyes like he was gathering all his strength from the heavens above. Then, without a word, he sat back up, reached across the table—
—and grabbed Taesan’s pen.
Snap.
The laughter died in Taesan’s throat as he watched his pen break cleanly in half between Sungho’s fingers.
“…Oh,” he said blankly. “You are kind of scary.”
Sungho simply placed the broken pieces of plastic neatly on the table and went back to writing, looking way too pleased with himself.
Taesan blinked at the destroyed pen. Then at Sungho.
Then he let out a low whistle.
“Well, damn. Didn’t think you had it in you.” He nudged one of the broken pieces with his finger. “That’s cold, Sungho. I might actually cry.”
“Good,” Sungho muttered, not even looking up. “Maybe now you'll leave me alone.”
Taesan chuckled, leaning closer with a smirk. “ Never. ”
Sungho groaned under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.
And Taesan?
Well.
He had never been more interested in his life.
The longer he stared at Sungho— the way his ears had gone just a little pink, the way his fingers twitched against the desk like he wanted to do something but didn’t— Taesan felt something unfamiliar settle in his chest.
Something warm.
Something annoying.
Something he really, really didn’t want to think about.
So instead, he leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head with a grin.
“Detention’s way more fun with you, Mr. President.”
The school stadium was packed, the energy in the air electric as the crowd roared.
It was the kind of atmosphere Taesan thrived in—the thrill of the game, the rush of competition, the promise of crushing the seniors into the dirt.
Except.
Instead of focusing on the game, his eyes kept drifting to the sidelines.
More specifically—to him.
Park Sungho.
Standing right at the front, dressed in school colors, waving his arms wildly, shouting something Taesan chose to ignore.
Next to him, Sanghyuk was holding a ridiculous handmade sign that had “GO MYUNG JAEHYUN! (Dont trip, Loser!)” written in bold letters.
And in the middle of it all, Sungho— his face lit up as he cheered for his best friend, practically beaming like Jaehyun had already won.
Taesan’s jaw tightened.
Why was he so happy? What was so great about Jaehyun scoring a point? It wasn’t like he’d found the cure for cancer or anything.
Of course, Sungho was here.
Of course, he was screaming Jaehyun’s name like he was the only person on the damn field.
Myung Jaehyun, the so-called golden boy of the second years.
Myung Jaehyun, who got a personalized sign.
Myung Jaehyun, who had Sungho’s undivided attention.
Taesan scowled.
It was fine. He didn’t care. It wasn’t a big deal.
(Except it was, because he could feel the irritation bubbling under his skin like a storm, and the longer he watched, the worse it got.)
Jaehyun jogged over to them, grinning, sweat already glistening from warm-ups.
“Yeppi! Sanghyuk, you guys came!” he called out, beaming.
Taesan's eye twitched at the nickname. Yeppi? Yeppi? What in the kindergarten-level kind of affection was that?
Sungho immediately lit up in response. “Of course! We have to support you!”
Sanghyuk clapped a hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder. “We literally made a bet that you’d either win or completely embarrass yourself. Either way, it’s entertainment.”
Jaehyun groaned. “I hate you guys.”
“You love us,” Sanghyuk corrected him.
Taesan would’ve been fine if it had ended there.
But then Sungho reached out — all casual, like it was normal — and adjusted Jaehyun’s sweatband, fussing over him like a doting parent.
What’s next? Tucking him in at night? Packing him a lunchbox with a little note inside?
Something in Taesan snapped.
His grip on his helmet tightened.
He wasn’t jealous. Obviously not. That would be stupid.
He was just— frustrated. Annoyed. Completely done with this Myung Jaehyun propaganda. Completely done with how Sungho acted like Jaehyun was the only one on this 360-feet long field.
Before he could think twice, he was already speaking.
“Hope you’re focused enough to win today, Jaehyun-ssi.”
Jaehyun turned to him, smirking. “'Course I am.”
Taesan didn’t hope.
He was going to win.
And he was going to make sure Sungho watched him do it.
The game started.
Taesan barely heard the whistle blow over the pounding in his ears.
His body moved on instinct— quick turns, sharp movements, dodging past defenders like they were nothing.
But every time he glanced at the sidelines— Sungho was watching him. Myung Jaehyun.
Eyes focused. Expression unreadable.
Taesan’s chest tightened.
Then— his moment.
His body was already in motion . His eyes snapped forward, every muscle in his body coiling like a spring, ready to explode.
The ball was passed to him. He snatched it with practiced ease, his eyes darting to his teammates before quickly scanning for an opening.
There.
A senior on the opposite team was slow on his feet, too slow for Taesan. He feinted left, drawing the defender with him, before cutting right, his legs moving in fluid strides, feet hitting the ground in rapid succession as he sprinted down the field.
His heart pounded in his chest, each beat syncing with the rhythm of his movements, his focus tight.
But there it was.
Sungho.
The crowd roared, but Taesan’s focus was sharp on the figure standing at the front, his eyes wide, face flushed with excitement. His lips moved, cheering for Jaehyun, no doubt.
It made Taesan's blood run hot. He pushed harder, faster, cutting through the defense with ease. The ball was practically glued to his foot as he approached the goal, his sights set on the keeper.
No distractions. Just this shot.
But just as his leg lifted to strike, Taesan glanced at the sideline again.
And this time, Sungho’s eyes met his.
Taesan’s breath caught in his throat. The brief, unexpected connection threw him off, just for a second, but that was all he needed. He pulled the shot off anyway-- low and fast-- skimming the grass just before the goalkeeper had a chance to react.
Goal.
The stadium erupted into chaos. Teammates swarmed him, but Taesan barely heard them over the roaring in his ears. His eyes went straight to Sungho, who was still frozen in shock. His expression was wide-eyed, lips parted in disbelief.
For a moment, everything around Taesan disappeared.
Sungho was staring at him, and his heart pounded faster than before. This was it. This was the reaction he wanted.
He wasn’t just going to let it slide.
Without thinking, Taesan pushed through the crowd of his teammates and made his way straight to the sideline. His feet moved before his brain could process it.
He ignored the noise around him. Jaehyun was shouting something to him, but Taesan wasn’t listening. He was locked in on Sungho.
When he reached him, he stood there for a second, chest heaving, adrenaline still coursing through him.
“Stop looking at him,” Taesan said, breathless, his words a challenge.
Sungho blinked, still a little dazed from the goal, but his lips parted in confusion. “I— what?”
Taesan’s eyes locked onto Sungho’s, a smirk forming at the corner of his lips. “Not Jaehyun.”
Sungho's brows furrowed in the most adorably confused way. “Keep your attention on me. I'm more than enough.”
For a second, Sungho froze. His gaze flickered, and Taesan could see his ears pinking before anything else. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again.
And then—
“WHAT?” Sungho’s voice shot up an octave as he whipped around, a mix of flustered and annoyed. “I’M NOT—”
Taesan didn’t even wait for him to finish. He took off, laughing softly under his breath. It was stupid. He was being stupid. But that look on Sungho’s face? Worth it. Totally worth it.
As he jogged back to his team, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of pride. He didn’t need to hear the cheers from his teammates or see the scoreboard to know he’d won something.
Sungho was still staring at him from the sidelines, and for some reason, that made his stomach twist in a way that was way too complicated to deal with right now.
He muttered to himself, barely audible over the noise of the game. “Cheer for me properly next time, Mr. President.”
The smile that tugged at his lips faded quickly, but deep down, it was there.
He didn’t have to look back to know Sungho was still staring.
The third time Taesan realized he had a Park Sungho problem, it was late in the evening, and they were the only ones left in the band room.
At this point, he had already accepted it.
(It being the fact that he was in way too deep for his own good.)
It had taken him longer than it probably should have— long enough that Leehan had given him that same knowing look multiple times .
Long enough that Kim Woonhak had openly asked, "Why do you keep torturing Sungho-hyung if you like him so much?"
(To which Taesan had immediately, aggressively denied everything, because what kind of person says that out loud in public?! ).
But yeah. He had come to terms with it now.
Han Taesan liked Park Sungho. Like liked.
And maybe— just maybe—he had fallen first.
But obviously, he wasn’t about to admit that part. Not yet. Not when there was still a tiny chance that Sungho had actually fallen first instead. (Wouldn’t that be hilarious ?)
(And absurd, seeing how Taesan had literally folded the second his eyes landed on Park Sungho (which was, by the way, in the very first 4 minutes school started on their first day.))
Well-- whatever! So what if he was the one who fell first?! For now, he was just going to do what he did best— play it cool, poke at Sungho until he broke, and pretend his heart wasn’t a complete mess every time the guy looked at him for too long.
Which brought him to tonight .
And the fact that Sungho, once again, had let himself be lured here instead of going home like a normal, responsible student council president.
This was basically a date, right?
It had started out normal— well, as normal as things could get when Park Sungho and Han Taesan were involved.
Taesan wasn’t sure how, but once again, he’d successfully dragged Sungho here instead of letting him go home like a responsible student council president. At this point, he was starting to wonder if Sungho even noticed he was being lured in every single time .
"Just listen to this," Taesan had said, tugging him down beside him on the couch, guitar already in his hands. "Tell me if it sounds good or if I should scrap it."
Sungho scoffed, crossing his arms. "Since when do you take my opinion seriously?"
Taesan plucked the first few notes, flashing a grin. "Since you started showing up every time I ask."
Sungho huffed, like he wanted to roll his eyes but was too prideful to admit that Taesan had a point.
Taesan started playing.
The melody wasn’t perfect. It needed work. But it had something— something he liked, something that made him feel lighter when he played it.
And then he looked up—
And Sungho was staring at him .
Full-on, watching him .
Not in his usual annoyed way. Not in a way that he was waiting for Taesan to mess up so he could criticize him.
No, this was different.
Sungho’s eyes were locked onto his fingers, following every movement. He wasn’t just listening—he was really listening.
Taesan felt something in his chest trip over itself.
"Hmm? You’re staring." he asked, hoping his voice sounded normal.
Sungho blinked, like he hadn’t realized he’d been staring.
And then, the magic words:
"I was listening."
Taesan nearly blacked out.
Was it possible to have a heart attack at seventeen? Could someone die from being too into their best friend? Because if so, he was absolutely about to drop dead right here on this couch .
Instead, he forced a smirk. "Same thing. "
He needed to calm down. Play it cool. Be the usual Taesan—chill, confident, impossible to fluster—
But his brain was already spiraling.
Sungho exhaled, running a hand through his hair– his beautiful, long, luscious hair. "It’s not bad."
Oh.
Taesan gasped dramatically. "Not bad?! So stingy with your praise, Mr. President."
Sungho rolled his eyes. "You don’t need me to stroke your ego."
Taesan hummed. "Maybe not. But I like hearing what you think."
And just like that, the air in the room shifted.
It was the tiniest change, but Taesan felt it.
Sungho hesitated, his fingers twitching slightly against his sleeve. The space between them felt smaller , even though neither of them had moved. The silence stretched—not awkward, not uncomfortable, just… thick .
Too thick.
Dangerously thick.
Taesan’s heartbeat picked up speed.
What is happening right now.
Sungho narrowed his eyes. "What’s that supposed to mean?"
Taesan panicked.
Not outwardly, obviously not. Outwardly, he was still the picture of confidence. But internally? His brain was setting off every emergency alarm known to man.
Danger. Danger. He is catching on. Abort. Abort.
So, naturally, Taesan did the dumbest thing known to mankind.
He leaned in.
"I don’t know," he murmured, voice light. "Maybe you’re just scared to admit it."
Sungho froze.
His breath hitched— just slightly— but it was enough. Enough for Taesan’s brain to immediately jump to another terrible, unfiltered thought:
Wait. Does this mean he actually fall for me first?! (I don't think so...)
Was that even possible?! (No, Taesan, it isn't...)
Did this mean he didn’t have to confess first?!
Sungho swallowed. "Scared to admit what?" His voice was too quiet.
Oh, Taesan was so screwed.
His brain was malfunctioning at record speed. He needed an out. He needed something.
And so, because he was an absolute disaster of a human being, he went for the first solution that popped into his dumb, panicked brain:
He kissed him.
Well. Technically , it was a kiss on the cheek. But still!
The second his lips pressed against Sungho’s skin, Taesan felt his soul leave his body.
Sungho completely short-circuited.
Like, actually froze.
For one horrifying second, Taesan was convinced that he had just ruined everything-- that this was going to be one of those haunting regrets people talked about when they got older.
Then—
Sungho turned to him, eyes wide, voice cracking— "Did you just—?!"
Okay. No backing out now.
Time for Plan B: Pretend this was on purpose.
Taesan, ever the genius, tilted his head and said, "You looked like you needed a reward."
Sungho lost it.
"A— A reward?! For what?!"
His voice shot up three octaves.
Taesan had to bite hard on his lip to stop himself from almost bursting out laughing right there.
Instead, he delivered the final blow.
"For falling for me first."
And oh, that was it. That was the kill shot.
Sungho completely collapsed in on himself. His hands flew to his face, he made an actual, painful noise, and his entire body burned so red that Taesan briefly considered calling for medical help.
Sungho groaned into his hands. " I hate you. "
Taesan grinned, reaching out to pry his hands away.
"No, you don’t," he murmured, voice softer now.
And yeah.
He was right.
Because Sungho’s hands trembled slightly in his grip, his breath was shaky, and no matter how much he pouted—
He wasn’t pulling away.
-> bonus!!
Taesan had been sitting in silence for a full minute now, internally replaying everything that had just happened.
The confession (that wasn’t really a confession…) The kiss on the cheek. The way Sungho had turned bright red and practically short-circuited in front of him.
And most importantly— the fact that Sungho didn’t pull away.
…Did this mean they were dating now? (Oh god...)
Taesan chewed his lip, glancing Sungho, who was still frozen on the couch, staring at the wall like it had personally offended him.
He had to check. For his own sanity.
He cleared his throat. “So… does this mean we’re together?”
Sungho blinked, then slowly turned his head to face him.
His expression was unreadable. His stare was long. Uncomfortably long.
And then, in the flattest, most merciless tone Taesan had ever heard,
“No.”
Taesan’s hopeful smile immediately dropped.
“…Oh.”
A pause. Wait. He can’t give up now.
“…Are you sure?”
Sungho scoffed, running a hand down his face. “Taesan.”
“Because, like—” Taesan ignored the warning in his tone, sitting up a little straighter. “You didn’t slap me, so that must mean something, right? And you’re still here. And you—”
He waved a hand vaguely. “—didn’t actually deny that you like me—”
“I hate you.”
Taesan perked up at the lack of bite in his tone.
“No, you don’t.”
Sungho made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a groan of defeat.
Taesan took that as a win.
Sort of…
He kicked his feet a little. “So when do you think we will start dating?” he said, in a faux-considering tone.
Sungho actually buried his face in his hands this time. “I’m going home.” He rubbed his face so aggressively that Taesan wondered if he was trying to erase himself from existence.
And then, without another word, he got up and turned on his heel and marched to the door.
Taesan grinned. He could not let it end like this.
“See you tomorrow, boyfriend!”
“I’M NOT—” Sungho’s voice cracked mid-yell as he slammed the door shut behind him.
Taesan grinned to himself.
“Not yet, anyway!”
Sungho violently swung the door open—then slammed it shut for the second time, as if once wasn’t enough to properly express his rage.
Taesan flopped back onto the couch with a satisfied sigh.
What a good day.
Notes:
kinda was too lazy to proofread so i hope theres nothing weird...
+ taesan's pov (and this whole fic in general) was inspired by his self-composed song 'i keep thinking about you'
please listen to it when you have the chance its really cute!!
++ taesans line during the football game thingy was inspired by another sungho fic i read but i cant find it ☹️
anyways i hope you enjoyed!!!
Layla_eee on Chapter 1 Sun 30 Mar 2025 01:20PM UTC
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baragi_sunoo on Chapter 1 Sun 30 Mar 2025 05:17PM UTC
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nichorange on Chapter 1 Sun 30 Mar 2025 07:33PM UTC
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catbbiyuri on Chapter 1 Mon 31 Mar 2025 09:13PM UTC
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pumpkin_park on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Apr 2025 06:07PM UTC
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lifeiscool on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Apr 2025 06:40PM UTC
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yawnzunt on Chapter 2 Tue 01 Apr 2025 04:33PM UTC
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lifeiscool on Chapter 2 Tue 01 Apr 2025 06:54PM UTC
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erenmybb on Chapter 2 Thu 03 Apr 2025 04:33PM UTC
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Layla_eee on Chapter 3 Fri 04 Apr 2025 03:05PM UTC
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pumpkin_park on Chapter 3 Fri 04 Apr 2025 06:10PM UTC
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baragi_sunoo on Chapter 3 Fri 04 Apr 2025 07:18PM UTC
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jy_pleasure on Chapter 3 Sat 05 Apr 2025 01:53AM UTC
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lifeiscool on Chapter 3 Sat 05 Apr 2025 07:57AM UTC
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nichorange on Chapter 3 Tue 15 Apr 2025 05:13PM UTC
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