A single note permeates in the darken stillness of the empty house. It is repeated, and another note – one of a lower register - follows. The sympathy of sounds, accompanied by a soothing voice, soon cascades freely in space, coating the air.

Hoon offers a smile when he notices you by the slightly ajar door; your presence startles him but his singing is kept in tune to the music he is playing. You remain by the room’s entrance silently, unsure whether to approach him or not. You didn’t want to intrude on what seems to be a private moment, but as he waves you over, it feels as though he had been waiting for you.

“When did you arrive?” he greets you with a question, scooting over the seat to share the space with you.

“Just,” you reply, fingers instinctively rest on the piano keys as you take your seat next to him. “Do you do this often?”

Hoon shoots a sideway glance, brows furrowed questioningly. “Do what?”

He tilts his head away from you, his lips part before meeting in a pout. You resist the pressing desire to lean forward and connect to him in a kiss. You drop your head low to hide the flush of blush across your cheeks, and shake it. “You know, serenading girls with a song on the piano,” you answer, pushing down a key and the sound emitted echoes loudly between the walls.

He shifts his entire body leftwards which creates more space between your two bodies, as if he had become suddenly conscious of his close proximity to you. “Only if I like them,” he says. His face beams in recollection of past memories. When he abruptly realizes your curious smile, he turns away quickly, running a hand along the back of his neck.

“Them,” you tease. “Plural.”

“My first crush,” he admits shyly, feeling the need to justify himself under your wondering gaze. “And my mom, on her birthday.” His eyes meet yours the moment he looks up. “Just two,” he continues. “Two is plural, right.”

You offer him a look that suggests your scepticism. “Really, just two?”

“Yeah, and it only worked on one girl. No points for guessing which one.” He laughs, trying to ease his embarrassment.

“Mummy Hoon?”

He nods, blatantly abashed at the confession. A stream of giggles escapes you, before you shake your head in disbelief, not convinced. “I swear,” he says rather defensively.

Finding the need to compose yourself, you take a deep breath to prevent offending him with the fit of laughter that is threatening to erupt. “Who wouldn’t fall for a guy who sings well and looks like, well, you.”

“Off the top of my head, I can think of two.”

“The first crush?”

He nods again.

“And?”

There is a moment of silence that hangs for a split second.

“You.”

Silence ensues. Hoon looks at you intently, his breath caught up in his throat. It is not the first time he had confess to you, and it would not be the first time you evade his sincerity. It is not you don’t reciprocate his feelings; you just didn’t know how to tell him you like him too, how to show him that you like him too.

“I don’t count.”

“Why not? You’re a girl, and I just sang while playing the piano and you’re not falling head over heels for me.”

“What if I already have?”

“Well, what if.” He holds his gaze on you strongly; possibly hoping for you to recognise the earnest affection he carries for you. You awkwardly jab him at the shoulder, trying to distill the intense atmosphere you find yourself to be in. Hoon breaks into a smile to ease the situation, understanding your slight discomfort. He reaches for your hands and encloses them in his.

Neither of you move. Intimacy builds up in the room. Your sight shifts from where he holds your hands to his brown eyes that feel like they could stare right through you. He knows you’re going to avoid his question, but he tries again. “I’m serious though.”

“About?”

“You not falling for me.”

“I am.”

“I need more convincing than just words.”

You shift closer to him and lean in, eliminating the distance between your lips to his. Hoon’s eyes widen in shock, but he takes your hint to press his lips on yours. The kiss is brief, because you pull away to ask, “Proof enough?”

“No. More,” he says, voice lustful and desperate. He latches onto your mouth again, this time with more fervour as though this is the only opportunity he has to kiss you. You wiggle your hands free to wrap them around his neck, dragging him closer. His hands cup your cheeks, his teeth graze your lower lips, his body warming.

“I’m crazy for you, you know that?”

“I know.”

“Be crazy for me too.”

His breath tickles your skin when he finally pulls away. His forehead rests against yours, a look of contentment evident in his face. Your heart feels light at the revelation of your feelings towards him, and your eyes reflect his bliss.

“I am.”

Feeling relatively better after yesterday, thanks Anony♥

There is no Hoon fluff for me to read that could make me feel better (am I not searching thoroughly enough?) so I wrote one myself lol. I wonder if anyone else writes fluff for themselves, is it weird that I do? There’s too many rhetorical questions here so I shall stop.

A Hoon fluff for you then Anony, because I can feel people judging me.

Read More

Listening to Infinite’s 눈물만  makes me happy too.

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Soohyun holds his breath as he watches her walk down the aisle. She approaches him with calculated steps, nerves and excitement controlling her body. Her gaze would fall to the floor in bashfulness after a few strides, her bangs slipping from behind her ear when her head dips down. Snugly her dress fits on her body, its trail following like a shadow.

He feels his heart beats faster. The surge of blood warms his face, reddening his ears and cheeks. Soohyun takes another sip of alcohol, wanting it to dissolve the unwavering flutters that churn his stomach.

“No drinking now, man,” someone hisses at him, slapping his shoulder.

Soohyun squares his shoulders in a shrug, ignoring the comment and gulps down the remaining liquid. His throat burns but he welcomes it, invites sensations other than fluttering to invade his body.

She is near the front now, near to him. He distinctively feels the thumping in his chest resonates in his ears, as if all he could hear is the sign that he is alive.

The symphonic music that surrounds the space melts into silence; all he could focus on is her.

Soohyun manages to capture her radiant smile as she walks pass him. Instinctively he smiles back, but recovers fast and replaces his obvious affection with a look of indifference. He knows better than to sink further into this abyss of seeming bliss. He runs his tongue over the rim of the empty glass, averting his eyes away from her. Turn away, stop staring. She notices this. In the next moment their eyes meet, she returns him a look of puzzlement at his sudden change of mood, never really understanding his recent change in behaviour.

“I definitely need more practice with heels,” she greets him after the wedding rehearsal is over. Sitting herself down next to him at the table, she crosses her right leg over her left, letting the shoe slip off to the ground. With an almost aggression she begins to message her calves, throwing punches at the sore muscles.

He peeks at her, and his eyes went directly at the exposed skin where her bridesmaid dress has ride up. Soohyun shifts his body away and quickly gulp down another glass of alcohol. She’s not his, don’t look at her. He loosens his tie, and makes a mental note to later thank the soon-to-be-married couple for having an open bar at the reception.

Silence hangs in the air between them. She stares at him to prompt a reaction, but all Soohyun does is to turn away, avert his gaze, avoid her contact. She sighs. She sees him but does not recognise the man who is slowly becoming a stranger.

“Soohyun,” she says contemplatively, hesitant but in need.

Don’t answer her. Don’t falter now. Don’t. Standing up, he says, “I’m going to get more drinks.”

“Soohyun, look at me,” she commands.

The forcefulness in her voice shocks him, but only momentarily. There’s defiance in him that she mirrors back. Soohyun hardens his eyes, wanting her to know that he wasn’t kidding around when he said they should stop being friends.

“You can be such an asshole sometimes, you know,” she continues before even he could respond. She hangs her head low in exasperation, tired from trying to understand him. Her shoulders slump forward, back arch in a curve.

Soohyun finds himself sitting back down, empty glass in hand. It is kind of her to describe him as an asshole, when all he has done lately is push her away; ignoring her, as if her presence is too insignificant for him. He resists the urge to run a hand down her spine to coax, knowing it would be too intimate an action and that would send him back into the spiral of liking her. He doesn’t deserve her; she doesn’t deserve this treatment from him.

“Hey, remember how we first met as kids?”

He chooses to stare blankly while the question lingers in his mind. He shakes his head suddenly, trying to be nonchalant.

“You were up on a tree, sitting pensively with a red towel tied around your neck. A superhero in the making,” she laughs at the recollection. “You wouldn’t come down no matter how much your sister screamed for you to.”

Don’t dig up the past, for the past is where he has buried his emotions in. Soohyun always knew that one day, he is going to fall head over heels over this girl. This girl who has entered his life at the age of six, gone through all his personal hardships together and gives him a reason to continue trying despite the failures he had encountered. But he also knows that he shouldn’t, for he has nothing to offer her and that she is worth more than his heart.

 “I guess I’ve always been attracted to you. I climbed on up and stayed with you until the sky turns dark. I remember our mothers threatened to cut down the tree and we both laughed because we knew it was impossible,” her smile radiates with fondness and he finds himself immediately smiling along. But he turns away, not letting her see him indulging in similar reminiscent.

We, a collective noun. We, as in him and her. We.

“Do you remember that?”

I can never forget you.

“What happened to us, Soohyun? I miss us.”

Us, a collective noun. Us, as in him and her. Us.

There’s a part of me that’s missing you.

“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice interjects his flow of thoughts, “but the bride’s looking for you.” The person rests a hand on her shoulder to which she gives a nod and casts another look over at him. Her eyes pleaded for him to ask her to stay, to work things out. She is deliberately hesitant in leaving, conflicted to remain seated or go.

When Soohyun keeps his silence, she drags out a sigh and slips her shoes back on. She wobbles slightly trying to stand up and turns away from him. After a few slow steps, she twists her body around, as if to confirm her actions and his decision. Soohyun looks away and like a defeated soldier she leaves.

She exits from the space that has been carved out in his heart.

Soohyun finds the courage to view her one last time, memorising the silhouette of her retreating back.

I love you. I’m sorry.