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'He is still an asshole. He is still an asshole,' Sieun chanted to himself, fists clenched at his sides as he walked back to his room. He could not afford to get distracted right now. Senior year meant serious business and he had a lot to prove to himself and everyone around him.
Sieun was sick and skipped school that day. Did his long-time rival, Ahn Suho just walk to Sieun's home to give him notes and all of today's worksheets despite living in the opposite direction from the school? Yes, he did.
And despite Suho saying 'I just wanted to make sure I didn't have an unfair advantage in the upcoming test,' his actions pulled Sieun's heartstrings.
So the next day when his group passed by Sieun's group during lunch hour and Suho called him 'smurf'- a nickname he’d used for years to mock Sieun’s height, Sieun stayed quiet, biting back the insult that was threatening to escape his lips.
"Whoa... Did he just... not... say anything back?" Beomsok exclaimed.
Suho stayed quiet, still staring at Sieun's back as he walked with his friends to find a table in the cafeteria.
"Quick, check which side did the sun rise on today." Yeongi chimed in.
"Aish. Cut it out," Suho muttered, though he didn’t sound particularly annoyed.
"Did anything happen between you two?" Beomsok asked seriously now.
"Not that I know of," he quickly dismissed the subject and took a seat at a nearby table.
His friends exchanged a glance. Neither of them said it out loud, but something was definitely different.
And Sieun—across the cafeteria, pretending to listen to his friends’ chatter—could still feel Suho’s gaze on his back like a weight he couldn’t shake.
.
"What was all that about?" Suho asked as he cornered Sieun later that day during their library duty hour.
Both Suho and Sieun have finished the required classes for high school by their junior year; so their senior year was filled with college classes, art classes, and library duty.
"What was what?" Sieun replied, not even looking up from the cart he was organizing.
Suho crossed his arms. "Don’t play dumb. Lunch. You just… let it slide. I called you Smurf and you didn’t even blink."
"So?"
"We always insult each other. I start by calling you smurf, you call me grinch and we keep going until our friends have to pull us apart."
Sieun finally looked up, "Maybe I don't want to do that anymore."
"Yeah right, we have been doing this for years. What's going on?" Suho frowned
"Nothing. Seriously. I just wanted to actually eat my lunch instead of wasting time arguing with you."
He turned away and began pushing the cart toward the nonfiction shelves, but Suho didn’t move.
He just stood there, watching him go, trying to figure out why it suddenly felt like Sieun wasn’t playing the same game anymore.
.
A week later, the name-calling had completely stopped. Suho tried twice—called him Smurf during lunch and Short Stack near the vending machines after a college class—but Sieun hadn’t taken the bait. Not even a glare.
During one of their art classes, Juntae leaned over and whispered, "Sieun-ah, are you okay?"
Sieun blinked, "Yeah? Why?"
"I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s kinda peaceful now that we don’t have to play referee every day... but you suddenly stopped fighting with Suho. It’s weird."
Sieun paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. He had to admit—it felt good not wasting energy on constant arguments. It was quieter, more civil. But also… dull. Something about Suho getting under his skin always made things interesting. Their little push and pull dynamic had fueled him, even if it was childish.
"We were both just stubborn, Jun. We fought because we wanted to outdo each other at everything," Sieun said with a sigh. "But maybe we’ve outgrown that."
"Oh my god, you miss him," Baku said loudly from the other side of the table, making both Sieun and Juntae jump.
"Jeez, you scared me. When did you get here?" Sieun grumbled, clutching his chest like he needed a moment to recover.
"Don’t change the subject," Baku smirked, elbowing him. "You miss your academic nemesis-slash-wannabe boyfriend."
"I do not miss him," Sieun scoffed. "I just miss the arguments. I had the best comebacks, and now they’re going to waste."
"Suuuure you do," Juntae said, clearly not convinced.
Before Sieun could snap back, Ms. P’s voice rang out from the front of the class.
"Baku. Juntae. Back to your seats. I separated you three along with Gotak for a reason. Unless you’re presenting to the entire class, zip it."
"Ms. P, I stayed in my seat," Gotak said proudly, raising his hand like he deserved a medal.
"Aww, want a cookie for that?" Beomsok turned around and grinned at him.
"Shut up, Suho’s irrelevant sidekick," Gotak snapped.
Beomsok shot up from his chair. "Say that again, you little—"
"I don’t have the time or the energy for this," Ms. P groaned. "Detention. Gotak. Beomsok. After school. Figure it out there."
The whole class burst into laughter, and Sieun just shook his head with a small smile.
God knows how many times he had ended up in detention for shouting matches with Suho. Somehow, this felt almost nostalgic… and kind of lonely.
.
The next time Sieun and Suho interacted was nearly a month after they stopped talking.
Sieun found Suho sitting alone on the stone bench just outside the library, hunched over slightly, holding his left index finger with a grimace on his face and a dramatic little pout on his lips.
"Are you okay?" Sieun asked cautiously, slowing down as he approached.
Suho didn’t even look up. "Go away."
"Real mature," Sieun muttered, rolling his eyes. Still, he stepped closer and crouched down beside him. "Let me see."
Without waiting for permission, Sieun gently took Suho’s hand. A thin but nasty-looking cut ran along the side of his finger.
"How did this happen?" he asked, inspecting it with a furrowed brow.
Suho didn’t answer. He just stared at Sieun—his long lashes, the way his lips pressed together in concentration, the soft fall of his hair over his forehead.
He hadn’t realized how much he missed seeing Sieun this close.
Pretty, he thought again.
"Suho," Sieun said, looking up. Their eyes met. "I asked how it happened."
Suho blinked like he’d just been pulled out of a daydream. "The library door," he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.
Sieun sighed. Of course. That door had been broken since the beginning of the year, and Suho was probably the clumsiest person he knew.
Without saying anything, Sieun pulled a small first-aid pouch from his backpack. He poured some rubbing alcohol onto a cotton pad and looked up at Suho.
"This is gonna sting."
"It already stings," Suho muttered under his breath.
"Don’t be a baby," Sieun replied, and lightly pressed the cotton to the cut.
Suho hissed, jerking his hand a little, and Sieun instinctively leaned in and blew gently on the wound. The pain eased slightly, but Suho’s heart did the opposite—it sped up, loud and restless in his chest.
They were too close now. Too quiet. The months of silence, the distance, the things they didn’t say—it all hung in the air between them.
"There. All done," Sieun said softly, giving him a quick smile.
For a second, Suho looked like he wanted to say something. Something real. But the words caught somewhere in his throat.
Before he could find them, Sieun stood up, brushed off his hands, and walked into the library like nothing had happened.
Suho sat there for a long minute, staring down at his finger, then the door, then the spot where Sieun had been.
.
Less than a month later, Suho found Sieun having a panic attack in the boys' bathroom. He was pacing back and forth, breathing fast, his hair a complete mess.
"What’s up with you, Smurf?" Suho asked, trying to lighten the mood with their usual teasing.
Sieun didn’t respond. If anything, his pacing got faster.
Concern took over. Suho quickly stepped forward and grabbed Sieun by the shoulders, forcing him to stop. That’s when he noticed the color in Sieun’s cheeks and how dangerously fast he was breathing.
"Sieun, what’s wrong?" he asked, voice much softer now.
Maybe it was the closeness, or maybe it was the fact that Suho actually called him by his name for once—but Sieun met his eyes and seemed to calm slightly, grounding himself.
"What’s going on?" Suho asked again, more gently this time.
"I don’t think I can do this," Sieun whispered, almost to himself.
"Do what?"
"I’m auditioning for a kpop company. Through Seoul Music University. It’s in less than half an hour," Sieun muttered, looking down. "But I just… I can’t."
Suho blinked in surprise. Of course he knew Sieun could sing and dance—he’d seen glimpses of it before—but he never imagined he was serious about making it a career. In that moment, Suho’s view of him shifted. He realized just how much courage it took to even try.
"Sieun, you’re going to be amazing. Why are you so scared?"
Sieun laughed bitterly. "Because what if I’m not? What if I get rejected? I don’t take rejection well." A tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it.
Suho reached up without thinking and gently wiped it away, keeping his gaze steady.
"You won’t know unless you try," he said softly. "Yeah, maybe you’ll get rejected. But what if you don’t? What if they love you, and you end up becoming a trainee, then debut under HYBE? What if you make it? But if you back out now… you’ll always wonder. You’ll be stuck doing something you hate at thirty-five, watching someone on TV living the life you wanted. And you’ll only have yourself to blame."
Sieun’s breathing began to slow. Every word Suho said seemed to sink in like a lifeline.
"Don’t be a coward," Suho added, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I like to think my long-time rival is braver than this."
For the first time that day, Sieun smiled too—small and shaky, but real.
And just like that, he felt like maybe… he could do it after all.
.
The next time they talked was about three weeks later, in their high school counselor’s classroom. Their college classes had ended for the semester, so they were allowed to use that period for academic catch-up or quiet time.
Sieun walked in and immediately noticed Suho sitting alone, looking down with a strangely blank expression. The counselor wasn’t in the room—not unusual, since she often stepped out when Suho was around and trusted him to keep things in order. None of their friends were nearby either.
Quietly, Sieun walked over and sat at the same table.
"Hey," he said.
Suho barely glanced at him. "What are you doing here?"
"Thought I’d hang out in here. What about you?"
Suho hesitated, then said, "I got accepted to Stanford."
"The one in California?" Sieun asked, sitting up straighter.
Suho rolled his eyes. "No, the one in Seoul. Yes, California."
"Sorry, I’m just surprised. That’s a huge deal. Why do you look like someone just told you your dog ran away?"
"Because I don’t want to go to Stanford," Suho muttered. "I only applied to those kinds of schools because my parents wanted me to. I didn’t think I’d actually get in."
"So... where do you want to go?"
"Seoul University. Or somewhere with a strong theater program."
That made sense. Sieun thought back to how Suho lit up during school plays or anytime he was on stage. Of course he didn’t want to sit behind a computer for the rest of his life.
Sieun found it almost funny—how both of them had spent years trying to be top students, carrying all the pressure from their families, only to realize they didn’t even want the paths laid out for them.
"Then don’t go to Stanford. Go where your heart actually wants to go."
Suho scoffed. "Seriously? Go where my heart desires? You’ve been watching too many dramas."
"I’m serious."
"Following your heart in real life gets you nowhere," Suho snapped. "You end up a broke actor or some trainee making minimum wage just to afford auditions. And I’m turning eighteen. I don’t even know if I’d still qualify. Meanwhile, Stanford is offering me a spot in computer science. You don’t understand how valuable that is."
Sieun let out a short laugh. "You really think I wouldn’t understand?"
"You wouldn’t," Suho said, getting up from his chair, sounding more bitter than he meant to.
"I thought you were better than that, Suho. I thought you were the one person who wouldn’t be afraid to follow what he really wanted."
"Don’t be naive. Everyone knows stability matters more than chasing some fantasy."
"And yet," Sieun said, shaking his head, "you’re the same guy who told me not to give up on my dream. And now look at you."
"This is different."
Before Sieun could say anything else, the counselor walked into the room.
"Oh, Sieun, when did you get here? You two aren’t fighting again, are you?"
"No. I was just telling him about Stanford," Suho replied, his tone back to neutral.
"I’m just glad you two get along now," she said, smiling. "Whatever you choose, Suho, we’re all proud of you. Oh—Sieun, congratulations! Mr. Park told me the news. Why didn’t you come tell me yourself?"
"I just found out last night. I was heading here to tell you now," Sieun said with a smile.
"I’m proud of you. It’s a shame you won’t be attending, but I’m glad you’re doing what feels right."
"Thank you. I’ll see you later," Sieun said, giving a polite nod before heading out.
Once the door shut behind him, Suho turned back to the counselor.
"Wait... what won’t he be attending?"
She blinked, then looked surprised. "He didn’t tell you? He got accepted to Harvard. Political science. But he declined the offer—he wants to study music and try to become an idol."
Suho’s heart sank.
Harvard?
He knew Sieun had perfect grades, a strong resume, and had been doing internships since middle school—but he never expected him to walk away from that.
Suho sat down slowly, his earlier words replaying in his head.
He’d assumed Sieun didn’t understand what it felt like—to disappoint your parents, to throw away a "safe" future, to choose something uncertain. But now he realized how wrong he’d been.
And suddenly, he felt like the coward in the room.
.
The next time they spoke was two days later during their library duty. It was quiet, just the hum of the air conditioning and the occasional shuffle of pages. Most students were either in class or outside enjoying the sun, leaving the library nearly empty.
Sieun was sitting behind the counter, completely absorbed in a worn copy of the second Harry Potter book. He had started shelving books earlier, but once he spotted one of his favorites, he couldn’t resist flipping through it.
Suho walked in, pausing for a moment when he saw Sieun so focused. Then he slowly made his way over.
"Hey," Suho said softly.
Sieun looked up, slightly startled but offering a small smile. "Hi."
Suho hesitated, shifting on his feet, "I, uh... I turned down Stanford."
Sieun’s head whipped toward him. "You did?" he asked, a bit louder than he meant to. A student sitting nearby looked over, and Sieun gave an apologetic glance before lowering his voice. "Wait—really?"
"Yeah," Suho nodded. "It took a lot of back-and-forth with my parents, but I finally got through to them. You were right. I owe it to myself to at least try. I should follow what I actually want."
Sieun smiled, his eyes softening. "I’m glad. That’s not easy to do."
Suho nodded again. A calm silence settled between them after that. Sieun returned to his book, but his mind wasn’t fully in it anymore. Suho stood nearby, watching him for a moment—how his brows furrowed in concentration, how peaceful he looked sitting there.
After a few minutes, Suho cleared his throat.
"Um… do you want to come over this weekend? To study for the test?" he asked, his voice coming out faster than he meant. His eyes widened slightly, realizing how sudden it sounded.
Sieun blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Then a small grin tugged at his lips.
"Yeah," he said. "Sure. I’d like that."
.
About a month later, visiting each other’s homes had become a regular part of their routine. At this point, they'd hung out at least a dozen times.
Though they always said it was to study, the truth was that their textbooks barely opened. Most afternoons were spent playing video games, having long conversations about everything and nothing, or turning Suho’s speaker into a karaoke machine for hours on end.
One quiet afternoon, they were sitting cross-legged on the floor of Sieun’s room, sharing snacks and half-watching a variety show playing on the TV in the background. The window was open, letting in a soft breeze. There was a comfortable silence between them.
Out of nowhere, Suho asked, "Have you ever had a girlfriend?"
"Nope. You?" Sieun glanced at him, chewing on a piece of dried mango.
"I had one," Suho said, leaning back on his hands. "She cheated on me, though."
"Oh... I’m sorry to hear that," Sieun’s eyes widened slightly.
Suho shrugged like it didn’t bother him much anymore. "It was a while ago."
There was a short pause.
"You’ve never had one? Like ever?" Suho asked again, curiously.
Sieun hesitated, his gaze dropping to the snack bag in his hand. "Well... I had a boyfriend."
"Oh," Suho blinked.
"Forget I said that," Sieun gave a nervous laugh.
"No, no—wait, I didn’t mean anything by that," Suho said quickly, sitting up straighter. "I was just surprised. That’s all."
Sieun looked up at him, cautious.
Suho tilted his head slightly, "What was it like?"
Sieun frowned, "What do you mean?"
"Like... dating a boy. Is it different?"
"Not really, I guess? it’s the same as having a girlfriend. Just… with a guy," Sieun let out.
Suho nodded slowly, taking it in. "That’s cool."
Sieun gave him a small smile.
The breeze rustled the curtains again. Neither of them said anything for a while, but the quiet between them felt softer now.
.
Suho found himself thinking about that conversation more than he expected in the weeks that followed.
Whenever he saw Sieun—in the hallway between classes, sitting by the window in the library, or even just laughing with someone in the cafeteria—Suho’s thoughts drifted back to what he had said. About having a boyfriend.
Even during their usual banter or quiet moments together, Suho couldn’t help but wonder what that relationship had been like. What it felt like.
.
"Did you guys ever kiss?" Suho asked, his voice casual, but his eyes were anything but.
It had been three weeks since their conversation about Sieun's past relationship, and now they were sitting on the floor of Suho’s bedroom, half-heartedly working on their project.
Sieun paused, fingers fidgeting with the edge of a worksheet. "Uh... yeah," he answered softly.
Suho leaned in a little, "Did it feel good? Kissing a boy?"
Sieun glanced at him, unsure if Suho was joking or being serious. But the look in Suho’s eyes was intense.
"I mean... yeah, kissing felt good. Why?"
Suho moved closer, close enough that Sieun could feel his breath, "I’ve just been curious. I don’t know why or what it means. But since you told me... I’ve been thinking about it. About you. About what it’s like. And..." His gaze dropped for a second, then returned. "Your lips."
Sieun blinked. "My... lips?"
"Yeah. They look soft," Suho murmured, almost like he was thinking out loud. He reached up, cupping Sieun’s face in both hands. "And kind of... perfect."
"Suho—"
"Can I?" he whispered, his voice shaking slightly.
There was a beat of silence, like the world itself held its breath.
Neither of them could deny the feelings that had started to grow between them. There was a quiet understanding between them. With each other, they didn’t have to pretend or explain too much. No one else seemed to understand them the way they understood each other.
Neither of them could tell who moved first, but suddenly their lips met.
The kiss was slow at first—tentative and testing. Suho brushed his lips over Sieun’s, savoring the softness. Then, as if something inside him snapped, he tilted his head and kissed deeper. His hands slid down to Sieun’s waist, tugging him closer.
Sieun melted into it, his arms wrapping around Suho’s shoulders.
When Suho’s grip tightened and his tongue slipped into Sieun’s mouth, the younger boy gasped—and that sound nearly undid Suho.
Sieun let out a breathy moan. It was the most beautiful sound Suho had ever heard.
He kissed deeper, hungrier, exploring Sieun’s mouth like it was something he’d craved for ages. And it felt so right. Like he was meant to be doing this.
Suho trailed kisses down Sieun’s cheek to his jaw, then lower—pressing his lips to the warm skin of his neck. He bit gently, then sucked, wanting to leave a mark behind.
Sieun whimpered, tilting his head back, giving him more.
Suho didn’t know what was taking over him. All he knew was that he wanted Sieun. Wanted him close, wanted him marked, wanted him his.
He’d seen the way people looked at Sieun—boys and girls. The way they smiled, blushed, lingered. And now, the thought of anyone else kissing Sieun like this made Suho’s stomach twist.
No. He wanted to be the only one.
His hands wandered beneath Sieun’s shirt, fingertips brushing bare skin—and that’s when Sieun pulled away, his chest rising and falling fast.
Suho stared at him, dazed, lips parted, breathing heavy. "How... how did it feel?" Sieun asked, trying to ignore the rush in his chest and the heat still lingering on his skin.
Suho looked at him like he was seeing something rare. "I want to keep going," he confessed, voice rough, trying to lean in again.
Sieun bit his lip, then shook his head gently. "We should stop... for now. We still have that project to finish." He gave a small, nervous laugh. "And I don’t want our first kiss to go too far too fast."
Suho exhaled, trying to calm his racing heart. "Yeah. You’re right."
But then he looked at Sieun again, his expression softer. "Can we... do this again? Later? Only if you want to. If not, it’s okay, I mean—"
Sieun leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to Suho’s mouth, silencing him.
"We can do this again," he said quietly.
Suho smiled, his cheeks a little pink. "Good."
He smiled to himself, heart still fluttering.
They didn’t need to define anything just yet.
For now, this—being close, being honest, and just being—was enough.