Archive of Our Own ^beta

1.

Now, Matthew knows Sung Hanbin. THE Sung Hanbin who could calm a raging professor with a single smile and was whispered about in hushed, reverent tones during 2 a.m. dorm-room confessionals. Hanbin, the guy who somehow balanced being the sweetheart of their campus with being a legendary sex god. Seemingly voted as the greatest fuck and nicest guy all at once in their borderline neighbourhood-slash-elite university. He’s even in the biggest frat on campus for god's sake, Zeta Beta.

Matthew knows the story of Hanbin’s passage into said frat. He was practically begged to join during a freshmen frat recruitment with tables that were set up in every direction, each manned by overly enthusiastic upperclassmen waving flyers and shouting about “brotherhood” and “lifelong connections.” 

 ( “Let’s make a break for it. If they see us, we’re dead.”

“Why would they bother us?” 

Matthew rolled his eyes. I don’t know, maybe because you’re you, Hanbin.  

A Zeta Beta hoodie suddenly loomed in front of them.

“ You! ” the guy boomed, pointing directly at Hanbin.

Hanbin blinked, his expression politely curious. “Me?”

“ HIM?! ” Matthew hissed under his breath.

“Yes, you!” the guy repeated, like this was a soap opera and Hanbin was the long-lost heir to the Zeta Beta throne. “You’re Sung Hanbin, right? The guy from the charity bake-off who raised, like, ten grand single-handedly? And didn’t you win Freshman Orientation King?” That’s a story for another time.

Hanbin tilted his head modestly. “Well, I did help organize the bake-off, but it wasn’t—”

The Zeta Beta guy—Han Jisung?, judging by his name tag—didn’t even let him finish. Instead, he dropped to his knees. Dropped. To. His. Knees.

“We need you. Zeta Beta needs you. You’re perfect.” 

And Hanbin, warm-hearted Hanbin who doesn’t really decline people, agrees in an effort to stop Jisung from slamming his head onto the damn ground. )

The initiation process itself was… a journey. Matthew, who wasn’t a part of Zeta Beta and had no intention of becoming a member, had a front-row seat to the chaos. Mostly because he would see Hanbin back into their shared dorms at ass-o’clock looking like he went through a war.

(Matthew still had the photo of Hanbin dressed as Sailor Moon during one of the hazing tasks—a photo he had favorited and set as his lock screen for three weeks just to mess with him. To this day, it was the only time Matthew had seen Hanbin genuinely flustered.)

But somehow— somehow —Hanbin made it through unscathed. Sure, there was the sailor costume, the keg-stand debacle that Matthew refused to talk about, and the suspiciously specific “Chicken Nugget Challenge” that involved way too much hot sauce, but none of it seemed to dent Hanbin’s golden-boy reputation.

Hanbin does move to the frat after his pledgee era, leaving Matthew alone in their 2 room dorm.

Here’s the thing, THE Sung Hanbin Matthew really knows is the Hanbin who once used a five-star UberEats rating as an actual icebreaker. A guy who never let Matthew buy his own coffee, but also insisted on taste-testing it before handing it over. A guy who followed up Matthew’s sad "I'm flunking calculus" text with an immediate, "We study tonight. No excuses." during their high school exams.

Hanbin is a year older than Matthew, they were different grades in elementary school. But somewhere along the way, Hanbin suddenly repeated a year and ended up in Matthew’s class, and elementary school Matthew had only one thought: Awesome! Hanbin Hyung is back!

Matthew didn’t question it. Why would he? All he cared about was that his favorite person was in his class again.

It doesn’t change the way Hanbin was practically topped off as a prodigy in high school, Hanbin flourished. He was the school’s golden boy: top scorer, debate team champion, captain of the dance club. Teachers adored him, students envied him, and Matthew? Matthew stayed in the middle of the pack, cheering Hanbin on from the sidelines.

Hanbin had practically secured his spot at one of the country’s elite universities. Everyone knew it. His teachers, his parents, even the principal spoke about Hanbin’s bright future as if he were already running the place.

 ( And Hanbin doesn’t have to know this, but Matthew worked himself to the bone that year. Late-night study sessions turned into all-nighters, and his once-casual relationship with caffeine became a full-blown dependency. His goal was simple: get into the same university as Hanbin. but he couldn’t make it, and cried like a bitch the whole day until Hanbin told him he was applying for that mediocre university Matthew had to resort to, so cheers to being with his Hanbin Hyung again! )

University Hanbin is like high school Hanbin, but on steroids . He had leveled up, evolved, and unlocked some kind of mythical charisma stat that made him the center of attention wherever he went. He wears flannel jackets draped over his broad shoulders, a fitted tank top peeking out to reveal just a hint of the intricate tattoos sprawled across his chest. Tattoos that, if Matthew squinted hard enough, seemed to tell some epic tale of rebellion, artistry, and Hanbin-ness . His strides were confident yet humble, a perfect balance that screamed, I know I’m hot, but I’m still approachable.

It didn’t hurt that Hanbin was perpetually surrounded by a small army of admirers. Twenty people on a slow day. Students would accidentally (read: purposefully) drop books in his path, hoping he’d flash one of his trademark dazzling smiles while helping them, which he obviously did. Professors stopped him after class to ask for his opinions on lectures. Even the stray cat that lingered near the cafeteria seemed to have adopted him. And, of course, his frat brothers weren’t even in this mix. They were another story entirely—loud, obnoxious, and all-too-proud to call Hanbin one of their own.

Matthew is still the loser Matthew. Not that he was miserable. He just likes to keep his circle tight! Outside of his time with Hanbin, he had friends! Most of his free time was spent at the Pokémon Club, hanging out in their little meeting room with Fuma, Gyuvin, and Taerae.

Though he’s convinced Taerae knows nothing but pikachu and how hot Fuma is.

( “Do you think Fuma knows how much of a heartbreaker he is?”

Matthew, barely looking up from his DS, deadpanned, “Pretty sure he does.” )

The thing about Hanbin being Hanbin, though, was that no matter how popular he got, no matter how many people flocked to him, he always made time for Matthew.

They sit in the school's cafe for their weekly coffee hang, Matthew absolutely devouring the blueberry cake he forced Hanbin to pay for. It’s nice, he’s hearing Hanbin talk about how some of his brothers tried pulling a prank on one of the scariest people in the frat, Hao, and they all ended up hanged upside down from their staircase somehow.

Here’s the thing. 

The conversation should have been easy, lighthearted—exactly what Matthew needed after a long week. But his stomach churned as his peripheral vision picked up on something that had been bothering him since they’d sat down.

Birdies.

Not literal ones, of course, but the metaphor stuck in Matthew’s mind. A group of students perched a little too far away to seem like café patrons and a little too obvious in their stares. Their eyes were fixed on Hanbin, like he was the shiny seed they were all trying to figure out how to snag.

Matthew squirmed in his seat, suddenly hyper-aware of how many people were glancing—or outright gawking—in their direction. And Hanbin notices, his whisker smile growing to a look of concern as he asks if he’s okay.

“I guess.” Matthew mutters, “m’not hungry anymore.”

Hanbin’s face fell for the briefest of moments, a flicker of disappointment that Matthew barely caught before it disappeared. Concern quickly replaced it as Hanbin pushed back his chair and stood.

“Come on,” Hanbin said, his tone gentle but insistent. “Let’s go. We’ll watch a movie at your place. You pick.”

Matthew looked up, surprised by how quickly Hanbin had read the situation. But then again, this was Hanbin—his Hanbin Hyung. The one person who always seemed to know when something was wrong, even when Matthew didn’t want to admit it.

Matthew appreciates his Hanbin Hyung, so much.

—

2.

Matthew wasn’t dumb. Naïve sometimes, sure. Too trusting for his own good, maybe. But not dumb. He knew someone like Hanbin—charismatic, popular, effortlessly cool—would have game . How could he not?

He just didn’t think he’ll have this much.

Matthew hears about it first, he’s having lunch with Fuma and Maki, Fuma’s friend that Matthew instantly connects with. They’re in deep about the “what comes first: hen or egg?” Debate when he hears it.

Zeta Beta enters the dining hall, they’re all in their royal blue varsity jackets, hands draped over each others shoulder being unnecessarily loud, and among them was definitely Sung Hanbin.

Hanbin, who looked way too good in his jacket, his stride effortlessly confident as he laughed at something one of the brothers said. He didn’t even notice Matthew sitting a few tables away, his back to him as the group found their usual spot smack in the middle of the hall.

Matthew tried to shake it off. It was fine. Totally fine. Friend-brothers balance, you know? Like a work-life balance but more chaotic.

And then he heard it.

“Hanbin got down last night.”

The voice was loud enough to cut through the background noise, and Matthew froze mid-bite.

“Dude,” another voice chimed in, practically cackling. “BOTH Jaehoon and Chaeyun? At once? That’s insane .”

“Bro, how’d you do that ?”

The table erupted into laughter, and Matthew’s hand froze halfway to his mouth, his forkful of rice precariously balanced. He knew. Oh, he knew they were talking to Hanbin. Against his better judgment, he peeked over, catching the unmistakable sheepish shrug of his best friend.

Hanbin looked utterly unbothered, his head tilted in mock confusion. “Um—” he began, his voice carrying across the hall despite his attempt to sound casual. “I mean… they did ask for it?”

Matthew nearly choked on air. They did WHAT?

The entire Zeta Beta table broke into hollers and fits of laughter. Someone slammed their tray on the table, another dramatically shouted, “SUNG HANBIN THE GREAT DICK!” like they were crowning him royalty.

Matthew’s brain short-circuited. The Great WHAT?

Hanbin’s face didn’t even flicker. If anything, he looked amused, like this was a totally normal Tuesday afternoon and not a room full of people loudly discussing… whatever this was .

Matthew’s face, on the other hand, was burning. He pressed his hand to his temple, muttering under his breath, “I hate this school.”

“What?” Fuma asked, pausing mid-chew to glance at him.

“Nothing,” Matthew replied, stabbing at his rice a little too aggressively.

Across the room, Hanbin waved a dismissive hand at his frat brothers. “Guys, come on. ”

“No, no, no!” one of them, probably Jaehyun, said between wheezes. “Don’t be modest, you absolute legend ! You ruined them for everyone else!”

Another round of cheers erupted, and Matthew couldn’t take it anymore. He groaned, dropping his fork dramatically onto his plate.

Hanbin must have heard the sound, because his head tilted slightly, like he’d just noticed Matthew’s presence. And then, to Matthew’s horror, Hanbin turned in his seat.

The moment their eyes met, Hanbin’s face lit up in recognition. He waved.

Matthew slumped in his chair, praying the ground would swallow him whole. Why was this his life? He manages a weak wave and then a frantic gesture with his fingers to tell Hanbin to turn back round.

Hanbin manages an exaggerated pout that definitely does not make Matthew scream inside, but he squeezes a ‘please’ gesture as he puts his palms together. Hanbin finally listens.

“I forgot for a second that you’re friends with THE Sung Hanbin.” Maki is talking with his mouth full of rice and it looks absolutely disgusting. Fuma slaps the boy’s shoulders and nags him to chew before he speaks.

Matthew scoffs, “You look ugly.”

Maki tries to attack Matthew with his spoon, Fuma wants to scream.

It doesn’t stop there. Matthew hears it everywhere next.

Everywhere Matthew goes, it seems like someone has a story . Sung Hanbin’s legendary reputation follows him like a particularly obnoxious parade float that Matthew can’t escape.

He’s on his way to his lecture when he overhears a girl delivering what sounds like a doctoral dissertation to her friends. Her voice is practically reverent as she describes, in excruciating detail, what she calls "the transcendent experience" of Hanbin’s… big dick up her ass.

Matthew stumbles mid-step and nearly trips over his own feet. He bites back the urge to scream into the void and instead settles for walking faster, his face so hot he’s surprised he doesn’t burst into flames.

But it doesn’t end there.

In his lecture, he’s seated in his usual spot near the back, trying to focus on the professor’s explanation of some vaguely interesting concept. Then the guys sitting behind him start talking.

“Best dicking of my life. Hanbin, man. Unreal.”

Matthew freezes, his pen stopping mid-word. Please stop. Please shut up. Please let the earth swallow me whole, he begs silently.

“Right?” another guy says, sounding way too enthusiastic. “He just knows what he’s doing. Like, really knows.”

Matthew slowly lowers his notebook, his head dropping into his hands. He’s not even embarrassed anymore—he’s just exhausted.

The worst part is, Hanbin doesn’t seem to realize the chaos he’s causing. Or worse, he’s completely unfazed by it. Heck, he’s in the library studying with Hanbin— when someone practically shouts “Sung Hanbin for President of My Bed”—and Hanbin just shrugs it off with his usual calm, unbothered smile.

He returns back to Matthew, “you’re supposed to..”

Matthew is in too deep staring at Hanbin.

Matthew finally brings it up when Hanbin is over.

It’s Monday, and that means movie night. Matthew and Hanbin are parked on Matthew’s couch, wrapped in blankets that Matthew insists are purely for comfort and not because Hanbin keeps his dorm freezing.

The movie’s halfway through, some indie flick Matthew had picked about a guy trying to find himself or whatever. Hanbin is halfway through demolishing the popcorn bowl when Matthew finally snaps.

“Seokmae, I think the main character is a bitch—“

“So what’s your deal?”

Hanbin freezes mid-motion, the popcorn in his hand pausing on its way to his mouth. Slowly, he turns to look at Matthew, his expression unreadable.

“My deal?” he echoes, voice soft but steady.

“Yeah,” 

Hanbin doesn’t respond immediately. He just stares at Matthew, something flickering in his dark eyes that Matthew can’t quite place. It’s not anger, but it’s not exactly amusement, either.

After a moment, Hanbin sets the popcorn bowl down with deliberate care. “It’s nothing,” he says simply, standing up. “I’ll get more popcorn.”

Matthew watches as Hanbin walks away, disappearing into the kitchen like they hadn’t just cracked open the world’s most awkward can of worms.

There goes that. 

Matthew temporarily pauses the movie to wait for Hanbin to return. He lets his mind drift.

And when Hanbin returns, he acts as if nothing had happened. He performs a ten set aegyo that Matthew fakes barfing to.

—

3.

“Hey, you’re Hanbin’s friend right?”

The voice stops him dead in his tracks. Turning, he’s met with the sight of Sora Kim, the self-proclaimed IT girl of campus. She’s flanked by two of her equally polished minions, all three of them oozing an aura of superiority that makes Matthew’s teeth grind.

To him, though? She’s just the girl who overshares on Instagram and has a bitchy personality to match.

“Uh, yeah?”

Sora looks him up and down, her eyes narrowing slightly. Then she leans toward her friends and mutters—loud enough for Matthew to hear, of course—“He doesn’t seem like someone Hanbin would be friends with.”

Matthew feels something snap in his brain. It’s faint but audible. Crack.

It’s fine, though. He’s calm. He’s patient. He’s zen. He’s Matthew-freaking-Zen. Good temper, he reminds himself.

“Can you tell Hanbin to reply to my messages?” Sora says, not even waiting for a response before tossing her hair and turning away. “It’s been two hours. Thanks.”

She’s gone before Matthew can even register her words, her minions trailing behind her like they’re auditioning for a reality show.

What a bitch!

But it’s strange. Hanbin just sent Matthew a TikTok link not ten minutes ago—some dumb dog doing a backflip, captioned “Us?” Hanbin’s text game was faster than anyone Matthew knew, borderline psychic at times.

So why wasn’t he replying to her?

Maki has the audacity to snort at Matthew’s recollection. He even fakes an accent of Sora and it sounds scarily accurate.

Yes, he’s in the Pokémon club room chilling. Yes, Maki is a new member of the club, at least he knows more Pokémon knowledge than Taerae.

“Did you not see her pinned post on insta?” Fuma brings up, he holds out his phone right in Matthew’s face.

Sora, in the sluttiest dress known to mankind—barely more than strategically placed scraps of fabric—is practically glued to Hanbin. She’s leaning in obnoxiously close, her arm draped around his broad shoulders like she’s claiming him for herself.

Hanbin, meanwhile, is in his usual frat-party attire: a tight black tank top, tattoo on full display, looking effortless. He’s smiling, holding up a peace sign, but his other arm rests politely on her shoulder, maintaining a clear distance.

The caption reads: “Amazing night (kiss emoji) Let’s do it again? @hahanbinsung.”

Matthew immediately zeroes in on the comment section. Amid the flood of “HOTTEST COUPLE!!!” and “GOALS” there’s one reply that stands out.

@hahanbinsung
Haha!

Matthew stares at it for a long moment. That’s it? Just Haha! ?

“What a lame comment. Boo…” Maki’s voice suddenly materializes beside him, and before Matthew can stop him, Maki presses him down against the desk like he’s some kind of Pokémon rival Matthew’s supposed to defeat. His cheek is one inch away from smacking the table.

“I can’t believe this is what you’re obsessing over,” Maki says, laughing so hard his voice shakes.

“I’m not obsessing,” Matthew protests weakly, even as his face burns. “It’s just—he—she—look at her!”

“She’s thirstier than a Geodude in the desert,” Maki declares, earning a snicker from Fuma.

“Still,” Fuma adds, tapping on his phone thoughtfully. “You gotta admit, Hanbin’s the gentleman in this picture. He’s not exactly, uh, embracing her.”

“Exactly!” Matthew says, seizing on the point. “See, Maki? Gentleman!”

“Uh-huh,” Maki drawls, unconvinced. “And that’s why you’ve been staring at this post like it owes you rent.”

Matthew groans and flops backward into his chair. “I hate both of you.”

"Click on Hanbin’s profile! I want to evaluate his feed,” Maki declares, not even waiting for Fuma to react before snatching Fuma’s phone to do it himself.

Fuma protests, but Maki ignores him entirely, his fingers already scrolling through Hanbin’s Instagram profile.

The moment Hanbin’s page loads, Maki whistles lowly. “Wow. This is like an ulzzang starter pack. Look at his profile picture—he looks immaculate. ”

Matthew leans over Fuma’s shoulder to see. He has to admit, Maki isn’t wrong. Hanbin’s profile picture is a selfie of him with perfect lighting, skin practically glowing, and an expression that could launch a thousand thirst comments.

His follower ratio is mean, 6.6k followers and only 166 following. Fuma is one of the followers, not the following.

Maki glances at the screen and cackles. “Dude, he doesn’t follow you back! ”

Fuma snatches his phone away, face reddening. “Well, he doesn’t follow you either!”

“Fair point,” Maki concedes with a shrug, but the smugness lingers.

Matthew is smug that he’s one of Hanbin’s 166 elite followings. 

The feed itself was a carefully curated mix of candid shots. One showed Hanbin staring at a sunset with his hands tucked into his pockets, his tattoo just barely visible. Matthew recognized that one immediately—he had taken it during one of their walks back from the arcade.

The rest of the posts were equally stunning. Polaroids of Hanbin with friends, a shot of him balancing a drink on his knee at some party, a close-up of his hand holding a flower stem. But it wasn’t the quality of the pictures that made Matthew pause—it was the top of the feed, the pinned post.

It was a scanned Polaroid, slightly faded but still vibrant in its charm. Matthew recognized it instantly. It was the picture they had taken at the arcade months ago. In it, Matthew stood front and center, holding up the Pikachu plushie Hanbin had won for him after several failed attempts. His smile was wide and unabashed, the kind he usually reserved for moments he didn’t know were being captured.

But Hanbin wasn’t even looking at the camera. His focus was entirely on Matthew, his expression soft in a way that felt far too intimate for a public post.

Matthew blushes as he looks at it. He hadn’t realised Hanbin had posted this picture, not like he used his social media a lot.

A faint blush creeps up his neck as his eyes lingered on the screen. Hanbin could’ve pinned anything—one of his many stunning solo shots, a picture of him at a frat party, or even something artsy like a close-up of his tattoo. But he chose this.

“What a gay post.” Maki ejects, dragging out the last word for maximum effect. His eyebrows wiggled in Matthew’s direction, his smirk practically screaming you know what I mean .

Matthew didn’t even hesitate. His hand shot out, grabbing the first thing within reach—an innocent Pikachu figurine from the club room shelf—and hurled it straight at Maki.

Matthew’s phone pings a notification, Hanbin sent him a new TikTok link.

Matthew smiles softly.

Matthew tried to ignore it at first—the constant buzzing of Hanbin’s phone as it lit up with notifications on the couch. But patience had never been his strong suit, and Hanbin was taking his sweet time rummaging through the kitchen like he was grocery shopping.

The temptation was too strong.

Like the honest, law-abiding person he absolutely wasn’t, Matthew reached for the phone. Hanbin had left it unattended, practically begging to be snooped on. It wasn’t like Matthew was nosy... Okay, he was nosy.

The lock screen greeted him with an unimaginative black background. How boring, yet so Hanbin . Matthew swiped up out of habit, half expecting to be met with a passcode wall. Instead, the phone unlocked instantly.

Matthew froze, blinking. And then it hit him.

He’d set Hanbin’s passcode himself back in freshman year—his own birthday, as a joke, when Hanbin couldn’t be bothered to think of one. Somehow, Hanbin had never changed it.

The realization made Matthew’s chest feel tight in a way he didn’t care to analyze. He dismissed the thought and tapped to the home screen.

There it was.

The frat boys took up the top half of the image, all grins and swagger in their royal blue varsity jackets, crowding together for what was probably a post-party photo. Hanbin was in the center, of course, looking effortlessly cool. But tucked away to the bottom was Matthew.

It wasn’t just any picture of him either. It was the photo—the one Hanbin had pinned on his Instagram. Matthew clutching a Pikachu plushie like he’d won the lottery, beaming like an idiot, while Hanbin smiled at him instead of the camera.

Matthew felt a flush creep up his neck. The room suddenly felt ten degrees warmer, and he swore his hoodie was suffocating him.

Was this normal? Probably not. 

Matthew hadn’t intended to dig this deep, but here he was—curiosity spiraling into full-on espionage. One minute he was mindlessly swiping through Hanbin’s phone, and the next, the Instagram app had opened.

Mother of god this guy has over 90 unread messages.

Matthew blinked at the top of the inbox, where his own messages were pinned. It was a small thing, really—just their usual string of memes, random TikToks, and occasional life updates—but it still made his chest flutter in an infuriating way.

Below it, though, was another universe entirely.

And by god were these messages worth sending a priest into a coma.

The unread messages were chaotic, to say the least. Girls—and guys—threw themselves into Hanbin’s DMs with wild abandon, their words dripping with desperation, flirtation, and outright explicitness.

Matthew clicked on one out of morbid curiosity.

“Hanbin oppa, last night was unforgettable… When can we meet again?”

No response. Of course.

Another caught his eye.

“If you ever need someone to ‘help you unwind,’ just say the word. I’m free anytime.”

Matthew choked on air, hurriedly swiping back out.

It didn’t stop there. Messages filled with thirst traps, suggestive emojis, and borderline confessions seemed to pour in endlessly. Someone had even written an entire poem dedicated to Hanbin’s... ahem assets, which Matthew absolutely refused to read beyond the opening line. Wait. Was that a dick pic?

But what irked him the most wasn’t the sheer volume of admirers. It was the utter silence from Hanbin. He hadn’t even opened half of these, and the ones he did were either ignored or met with a polite, detached response.

A familiar voice breaks through his spiraling thoughts.

“Seokmae-ah, what are you doing?”

Matthew nearly flings the phone across the room as Hanbin stood at the doorway, popcorn bowl in hand, an amused eyebrow raised.

“Nothing!” Matthew yelped, scrambling to close the app and toss the phone back into its original spot on the crouch.

Hanbin didn’t say anything as he settled onto the couch, his movements easy and familiar, like this was where he belonged. The popcorn bowl found its place between them, but the space didn’t last long—Hanbin tugged at the blanket sprawled across the couch and casually draped it over both their laps, the gesture as natural as breathing.

Matthew stayed quiet, his eyes flickering toward Hanbin as he shrugged on his varsity jacket. For a moment, Matthew thought that was it, but then Hanbin leaned forward, pulling the jacket off and draping it over Matthew instead.

“Extra layer,” Hanbin said simply, his voice low and warm, like the hum of a heater on a cold day.

Matthew didn’t react right away. He sat there for a moment, staring at the flickering images on the TV without seeing them, the weight of Hanbin’s jacket on his shoulders heavier than it should’ve been. But when he shifted closer, letting his head rest against Hanbin’s shoulder, it all felt...right.

Nothing matters, where Matthew could sink into the comfort of Hanbin’s. With Hanbin, he didn’t have to think too hard or feel like he needed to explain himself. He didn’t even have to speak. It was enough to just be, to feel safe in the quiet warmth they shared.

This was his Hanbin.

—

4.

Matthew stands at the base of the grand Zeta Beta porch, his feet planted firmly in place while his courage threatened to wither in the afternoon sun. The fraternity house was exactly what you’d expect from a place where Sung Hanbin and his band of chaos resided—towering, obnoxiously pristine, and swarming with an energy that felt almost sentient.

The walk here had been its own odyssey. What should’ve been a brisk 15-minute stroll from his dorm had turned into an hour-long battle with himself, complete with numerous detours and pauses for dramatic contemplation. Matthew had even made a mental note to leave heartfelt goodbye letters for Fuma and Maki—one brimming with gratitude, the other with colorful profanities—you can guess who’s who, just in case this mission ended in his social demise.

He looks down at the small tote bag in his hand. Hanbin’s varsity jacket was tucked inside, the fabric practically buzzing with the weight of unresolved feelings. Hanbin had told him to hold onto it when he left it behind during their last movie night, but having it around had been… weird. Every time Matthew saw it draped over the back of his desk chair, it felt like the jacket itself was mocking him.

Now, standing on the edge of enemy territory, Matthew wondered why he hadn’t just texted Hanbin to come and get it himself. But no, he’d told himself he’d be the bigger person. Returning the jacket wasn’t about his own sanity (okay, it totally was), but about doing something mature.

Taking a deep breath, Matthew climbs the steps to the porch, each creak of the wood under his sneakers like a countdown to his doom. From behind the massive oak door came muffled laughter, the universal soundtrack of frat boys doing frat boy things.

Matthew prays to dear god anyone but Han Jisung opens the door.

He reaches for the doorbell, the small bag swinging nervously in his grip. Before his finger could even make contact, the door swings open.

The guy standing at the door was tall, annoyingly tall, with his hair gelled in a way that looked both effortless and painstakingly intentional. His outfit screamed money—damn, was that Gucci?

“Gunwook, I swear ,” the guy is not even looking at Matthew, voice dripping with irritation, “stop leaving your damn protein shake everywhere, or I’m torching your figurine collection—oh.”

His eyes landed on Matthew, and for a moment, Matthew felt like a misplaced sock being appraised at a high-end boutique. The guy’s brows raised slightly, his smirk sharp and vaguely patronizing. “Who’s this?” Matthew tries opening his mouth to speak, but the guy cut him off with a casual glance downward. Was Matthew always this short?

“We’re not recruiting at the moment,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Check back in a few months.”

WHAT?

The guy was already halfway through closing the door, and panic kicked in as Matthew lunged forward, slapping his hand against the doorframe to keep it open. “NO! I’m looking for Hanbin!”

The guy paused, his eyes flicking back to Matthew with the kind of amused disdain one might reserve for a particularly yappy dog. Then, with a perfectly straight face, he said, “We are not liable if you’ve contracted STDs from Hanbin. Find him yourself.”

WHAT?

The Gucci guy didn’t even flinch, shrugging as if he had just stated a universal truth before trying to close the door again.

“Wait, no—!” Matthew pushed harder, wedging himself between the door and the frame. “I’m his friend ! Matthew! ”

At that, the guy finally paused, tilting his head with a sudden interest, like he was reevaluating whether or not Matthew deserved more than a dismissive wave. His sharp gaze softened, and his eyes widened slightly, an expression Matthew could only compare to a cat having an epiphany.

“Oh!” The guy’s face lit up, the smirk curling into something almost friendly. “You’re Hanbin’s Seokmae! ” He swung the door open with a flourish, stepping aside to let Matthew in. “Come in. You know, I was convinced your name was actually Seokmae and not Matthew.”

Matthew froze mid-step, his brain short-circuiting. Hanbin talks about me to his frat brothers? The revelation made his heart do an odd little flip, somewhere between flattered and mortified.

Still, he stepped inside, clutching the bag containing Hanbin’s obnoxious jacket like a lifeline.

The interior of the house was exactly what Matthew expected—chaotic, messy, and unapologetically frat-like. A half-empty keg sat in one corner, surrounded by red Solo cups. The walls were adorned with mismatched posters and flags, and the faint smell of beer and cologne hung in the air. It was the kind of place that screamed “boys live here,” with a side of please don’t touch anything.

His guide motioned for him to follow, leading him to the living area. The couch was a battered but surprisingly comfortable-looking monstrosity, its cushions covered in a patchwork of stains that Matthew didn’t want to think too hard about.

The guy plopped onto the armrest, gesturing grandly toward the couch like a maître d’. “Have a seat. Coke? Water? We’ve got... Gatorade, maybe?”

“No, I’m good,” Matthew mumbled, lowering himself cautiously onto the couch, gripping the bag tighter.

“Oh, yeah. I’m Ricky, by the way,” the guy added, flashing a grin that seemed far too charming for someone who had nearly slammed the door in Matthew’s face. 

“Ricky, who’s this?”

The voice came from the staircase, steady. Matthew turned to see another guy descending, dressed entirely in black, with bangs nearly covering his eyes. He was tall—taller than Ricky, even—and buff. Like, seriously buff.

“This is Gunwook,” Ricky said, turning toward Matthew with a grin. “We’re the same age.”

Matthew blinked. The same age? How did Ricky manage to look like a mischievous rascal while Gunwook looked like he could bench press a car? And more importantly, what were they feeding these guys to be so tall? Gunwook walks over and extends a hand. His grip, when Matthew shook it, was firm—no, painful. It was like the guy didn’t realize how strong he was.

“Hey,” Gunwook said, his tone polite but casual. “Hanbin’s upstairs. I’m not sure if he knows you’re here, though.”

Matthew felt a flicker of irritation. Why was everyone in this house showing up except Hanbin? Still, he managed a tight smile and nodded. Matthew takes out his phone from his pocket to shoot Hanbin a quick message. Hey, I’m in your house.

It felt odd to send something so casual in such an intimidating setting. He glanced up from his screen just as Gunwook raised a questioning eyebrow, and Ricky smirks like he was expecting some kind of show.

“All good,” Matthew said, clearing his throat. “I just sent him a message—”

CLASH. BANG. “FUCK!” 

The three of them froze, the sound of something crashing and a muffled yelp echoing from upstairs. Matthew’s eyes widened, Gunwook’s brows furrowed in concern, and Ricky’s mouth fell open slightly before curling into a mischievous grin. There was the distinct slam of a door, followed by frantic, thudding footsteps.

The stairway became a flurry of movement, and there he was—Sung Hanbin, practically flying down the stairs, his hair slightly disheveled and his shirt half-tucked like he’d gotten dressed in a panic. His eyes darted to Matthew, then to Ricky and Gunwook, before landing back on Matthew.

“S-Seokmae! What are you doing here?” Hanbin’s voice cracked with panic, his tone a mix of confusion and worry. Before Matthew could even respond, Hanbin closed the distance between them in an instant. He crouched slightly to match Matthew’s height, lifting Matthew’s chin with one hand and tilting his face this way and that, as if searching for injuries. His brows knit together in genuine concern, his touch careful but insistent.

“Did they do anything to you?” Hanbin’s voice dropped, as though the possibility of his frat brothers causing trouble was a real, heinous crime. “Are you in debt? How much do you need? Tell me, I’ll take care of it!”

Gunwook and Ricky, highly scandalized, turn in unison, their expressions a mix of shock and offense.

“Excuse me?” 

“Do we look like loan sharks to you?”

“I literally shook his hand five minutes ago! How could you even—”

Hanbin ignores them completely, his attention solely on Matthew. “If you’re being blackmailed, just say the word. I’ll handle it.”

Matthew blinked, caught between utter bewilderment and the growing urge to laugh. “Hanbin, I’m fine. They didn’t do anything.”

Hanbin narrowed his eyes as if still skeptical, finally lowering his hands but keeping close enough that Matthew could feel the faint warmth radiating from him. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” Matthew reassured, suppressing a smile. “I just came to return your jacket, actually.” He waves the tote bag aimlessly in front of Hanbin.

Hanbin’s  expression softens. He reaches for the bag in Matthew’s hands, his fingers brushing against Matthew’s briefly as he takes it. “You really didn’t have to come all the way here just for this.”

Matthew shrugs , his voice quieter now. “You said you were busy. I thought I’d save you the trip.”

Hanbin smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that familiar way that always seemed to make Matthew’s chest feel too tight. “Thanks, Seokmae. Seriously.”

For a second, Matthew thought Hanbin might say something more, but instead, Hanbin glanced toward the couch. “You came all this way. Might as well stay for a bit. I’ll make us something to drink.”

“O-oh, uh, I really don’t want to intrude,” Matthew stammered, shifting awkwardly on his feet. His grip on the bag tightened, as if it might tether him from bolting out the door.

Hanbin waves him off with an easy smile, though his tone left no room for argument. “If anyone’s intruding, it’s them.” He turned sharply toward Ricky and Gunwook, his expression hardening. “Ricky, Gunwook. Get out.”

The declaration was followed by a sharp stride to the door, Hanbin crossing the distance in three long steps. He flung the door open with an exaggerated flourish and turned back to them, gesturing toward the exit with an overly polite bow that dripped with sarcasm.

“We literally live here,” Ricky deadpanned, staring at Hanbin as if he had just asked them to evict themselves permanently.

“I wasn’t going to leave,” Gunwook added, his arms crossed stubbornly as he made home against the counter.

Hanbin didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, his smile widened—sharp, icy, and so disarming it could have frozen them in place. “Out. Now.” The atmosphere grows palpably colder, the shift in Hanbin’s demeanor enough to make both boys exchange wary glances. Ricky muttered something under his breath, but neither dared argue further.

“Fine,” Ricky grumbled, grabbing his half-empty Coke can as he headed toward the door. “But if this is your way of avoiding paying for my pizza—”

“Keep dreaming, Ricky,” Hanbin called after him, his expression unwavering.

Gunwook followed with a reluctant sigh, his heavy steps echoing as he left. “This isn’t over,” he muttered, pointing a dramatic middle finger at Hanbin before the door shut firmly behind them.

As soon as the lock clicked, it was as if Hanbin underwent a complete transformation. The tension in his shoulders melted away, his sharp edges softening into something impossibly warm. He turned back to Matthew, his gaze gentle and inviting, his lips curving into the kind of smile that made Matthew’s stomach flip.

“Sorry about them. You have my full attention now,” Hanbin said, his tone a stark contrast to the frosty command he’d wielded moments ago. Matthew blinks , unsure how someone could switch gears so effortlessly. “You really didn’t have to—”

“I did,” Hanbin interrupted, stepping closer. He took the bag from Matthew’s hands, his fingers brushing against Matthew’s in the process. “Now, sit. You walked all this way, at least let me make it worth your while.”

Matthew hesitated, but Hanbin’s expression left no room for protest. He moves to the couch, sinking into its familiar cushions as Hanbin joins him. “So how’s your day?”

( Outside Zeta Beta, Ricky and Gunwook climbs through the second floor from the outside and eavesdrops from the stairs. 

“Dude, you sure they’re not together?”

“Apparently not. Just strictly in denial.” )

Matthew is with Maki again, their friendship promoted to the next level of “together with no Fuma”. Turns out, their schedules match up with each other, which equals to free time at the same time!

Their dynamic had settled into something easy and effortless. With Fuma busy tackling assignments and extracurriculars, Maki and Matthew found themselves spending more time together—enough that Matthew was beginning to memorize Maki’s quirks. Like the way he chewed on his straw when deep in thought, or how his eyebrows scrunched together whenever someone mentioned Eeveelutions.

“So,” Maki began, leaning forward with a mischievous grin, “any updates on your love life?”

Matthew nearly chokes on his drink. “What love life?”

“Exactly!” Maki shot back, cackling. “It’s a crime, honestly. You’ve got that soft, shy thing going for you, and you’re telling me nobody’s trying to ask you out?”

Matthew groaned, sinking further into his seat. “Can we not talk about this?”

“Oh, come on! I bet Hanbin would have something to say about that.”

The mention of Hanbin made Matthew freeze for a split second, but Maki didn’t seem to notice, already digging into his food with gusto. 

“Speaking of which,” Maki continued between bites, “aren’t you hanging out with him later? What’s the plan?”

Matthew hesitated, wondering if he should mention the jacket fiasco or the unexpected warmth that had bloomed in his chest when Hanbin smiled at him that day. Instead, he shrugged. “Probably just another movie night.”

“Lame. You should spice it up! Make your move.”

“ Maki. ”

“What? You’re already halfway to being a couple anyway,” Maki teased, wiggling his eyebrows. “Don’t be a coward.”

Matthew had obviously thought about that. Every time he was with Hanbin, it felt like his emotions were cranked up to maximum volume. The way Hanbin would smile, tilt his head, or casually drape his arm across the back of the couch—each moment left him feeling warm and inexplicably flustered. It wasn’t just one thing. It was everything all at once.

The thought was… overwhelming.

And now, sitting here with Maki, Matthew found himself spiraling. He wanted to talk about it, let the tangled mess of feelings spill out, but his stomach churned at the thought of Maki knowing. What if he teased him relentlessly? Or worse, what if he accidentally let it slip? Maybe he should tell Fuma instead. Fuma was safe. Level-headed. Someone who wouldn’t laugh in his face or bombard him with a hundred follow-up questions.

“Yo, you good?”

Maki’s voice broke through Matthew’s internal storm. His usually teasing tone had softened, and when Matthew glanced up, he caught an expression he wasn’t used to seeing on Maki: genuine concern. Maki leanes forward, resting his arms on the table as he peered at Matthew with wide, curious eyes. “You’ve been staring at your sandwich like it personally offended you. What’s up?”

Matthew hesitated, torn between brushing it off and confessing the truth. He swallows hard, trying to push down the lump forming in his throat.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled, but his voice wavered just enough for Maki to raise an eyebrow.

“C’mon, don’t ‘it’s nothing’ me,” Maki said, leaning even closer. “You’ve got that weird look on your face, like you’re thinking too hard about something. Spill it.”

The concern in Maki’s eyes catches Matthew off guard. It reminded him of Hanbin, but without the same sense of unwavering patience, and something else he can’t explain. Maki was different—blunt and chaotic, but with a surprising dash of sincerity that made Matthew’s chest tighten.

“I…” Matthew trailed off, biting his lip. How was he supposed to explain this? That every time Hanbin smiled at him, it felt like his brain short-circuited? That he’d caught himself wondering what it would be like to reach out and hold his hand?

God, he couldn’t even say it to himself, let alone Maki.

“It’s complicated,” Matthew finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Maki didn’t press him, but his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Complicated how?”

Matthew sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s… about someone.”

Maki’s eyes lit up immediately, a grin tugging at his lips. “Oh? Is it Han—”

“Don’t.” Matthew cut him off, glaring half-heartedly. “I don’t even know what I’m feeling, okay? It’s just… weird.”

Maki hummed, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Weird like you’re confused, or weird like you’re catching feelings and you’re in denial about it?”

Matthew groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t know. Maybe both.”

“Well,” Maki said, his voice unusually soft, “for what it’s worth, it’s okay to not have it all figured out. Feelings are messy. But, if you ever wanna talk… you know I’m here, right?”

Matthew peeks at Maki from between his fingers, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “And by ‘here,’ I mean I’m ready to roast you at any given moment if you chicken out,” Maki adds with a smirk, ruining the moment entirely.

Matthew rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile that crept onto his face. “Thanks, Maki.” 

“But.” Maki lifted a hand dramatically, silencing Matthew before he could utter a word. His expression shifted into something that could only be described as faux wisdom, a knowing gleam in his eye as he tapped a finger against his temple.

“With my vast and knowledgeable love experience—"

“What do you even know,” Matthew interjected flatly.

“ With my vast and knowledgeable love experience, ” Maki repeated, undeterred, “you, my dear Matthew hyung, are in denial of love!”

Matthew choked on the sip of water he’d just taken, coughing violently as Maki’s declaration echoed in his ears. He slammed his glass onto the table, glaring at Maki through watery eyes.

“I—what?! I’m not—no, that’s not—” Matthew stumbled over his words, his brain working overtime to string together a coherent response.

Maki leaned back in his chair, folding his arms with a smug grin that could rival a cat who just caught a mouse. “Oh, it’s so obvious. The flustered looks, the awkward pauses, the ‘I don’t know what I’m feeling’ speech.” He made air quotes with his fingers. “Popular x loser, childhood best friends. I’ve read it all!”

Matthew’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. He couldn’t deny Maki’s words entirely—he had been feeling strange around Hanbin lately, but love? That was a stretch. A huge, universe-spanning stretch.

“It’s not love,” he mumbled weakly, staring at his hands like they held all the answers he didn’t want to face.

“Sure, sure,” Maki said, waving him off. “Keep telling yourself that, buddy. But let me ask you this—when Hanbin smiles at you, what do you feel?”

Matthew’s throat went dry. He didn’t have an answer. Or rather, he didn’t want to admit the answer.

Maki’s grin widens. “Exactly. Case closed.”

“That doesn’t prove anything!” Matthew protested, his voice higher than he intended.

“It proves everything,” Maki shot back, leaning forward with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “And the more you deny it, the more obvious it is. So, go ahead. Keep pretending you’re not head over heels for Sung Hanbin. I’ll just sit here and wait for the inevitable confession.”

Matthew buried his face in his hands, groaning loudly. Why did he think talking to Maki was a good idea?

Maki reached across the table, patting Matthew’s arm like a proud older sibling. “It’s okay, Matt. Denial is just the first step. Soon, you’ll reach acceptance, and when that happens…” He trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows. “I’ll be here to say, ‘I told you so.’”

“But Hanbin’s Hanbin, you don’t get it. I’m not someone worth—”

Maki cuts Matthew off mid-sentence by swiftly shoving a spoonful of food into his mouth. Matthew’s eyes widened in surprise as the spoon clinked against his teeth, and he sputtered, a half-chewed bite of food falling from his lips.

“Shut it,” Maki said firmly, wiping a bit of the stray food off his hand before shaking the spoon at Matthew. “You talk too much. Just eat and stop overthinking.”

Matthew blinked, his mouth full, trying to chew quickly to avoid looking too much like a mess. He swallowed and shot Maki a glare, though the other guy was unfazed, leaning back in his chair with an air of satisfaction.

“Seriously, Matt,” Maki continued, his tone a little softer but still carrying that teasing edge. “What makes you think you’re not worth Hanbin’s time? Just because you’re all ‘oh, I’m not that cool’ doesn’t mean it’s true. Honestly, he wouldn’t even be that into you if you weren’t someone special.”

“I’m... I’m not that special,” Matthew mumbled, avoiding Maki’s gaze as his face flushed.

“Oh, please.” Maki rolled his eyes, sitting up straighter. “Do you want me to list your qualities for you? Because you’ve got a lot of them. Hanbin sees something in you. I can tell. And I think you know it too.”

Matthew stays quiet for a long moment, unsure of what to say. His thoughts were all jumbled, and the weight of Maki’s words felt heavier than usual. He wasn’t even sure what was true anymore.

“But it’s not like he’d look at me like that.” Matthew’s voice was softer now, his uncertainty creeping in. “He’s got this whole... frat thing going on. I’m just me. How do I even compete with that?”

Maki gave him a look that was part exasperation, part amusement. “You’re seriously gonna keep using that as an excuse? Hanbin has no reason to be interested in someone who doesn’t even believe in themselves.” He paused for a beat, his eyes softening just a little. “You need to realize that he’s not looking at you for what you think you are. He’s looking at you because of who you really are. And yeah, that means you’re someone worth his attention.”

Matthew opened his mouth to protest, but the words died in his throat. He wanted to argue, but somehow, he couldn’t. Everything Maki said sounded... true.

Maki leaned in a little, the teasing tone dropping from his voice for just a moment. “You deserve him, you know.”

Matthew’s heart skipped a beat, but instead of saying anything, he just stared at Maki. There was no way to answer that—because, deep down, Matthew wasn’t sure if he truly believed it. Maki senses Matthew’s emotion, “think about it, how’d you think I asked Harua out.”

“Because he was already interested and has bad taste in you.”

Maki shot Matthew a playful glare, clearly not offended but more amused. “Hey, I do have standards. I don’t know if I’d say Harua has bad taste, though, but sure, let’s go with that for now.” He grinned, winking dramatically. Matthew couldn’t help the small chuckle that escapes him despite his inner turmoil. Maki was such an idiot, but at the same time, he was also... right.

“You’re avoiding the point,” Maki said, nudging Matthew. “The point is, when I asked Harua out, I didn’t overthink it. I just—” he made a gesture, sweeping his hand through the air dramatically, “—went for it. And look at us now. We’re doing just fine.”

Matthew looked up at him, feeling a little disoriented by how casual Maki was about it all. “And you think that’s what I should do with Hanbin?”

“Exactly.” Maki said, leaning in and giving Matthew a knowing look. “You overthink everything, Matt. If you want Hanbin to even consider being interested in you, you’ve got to stop talking yourself out of it. Just go for it like I did with Harua. If it works, awesome. If not, well... at least you’ll know for sure. And hey, I’ve got your back either way.”

Matthew couldn’t suppress the awkward shift in his stomach, the thought of just... going for it with Hanbin. He’d never done anything like that before, not in this kind of situation. It was so much easier to sit in this space of uncertainty, where he could tell himself maybe things would just fall into place. But Maki was right—he had to stop overthinking everything.

“Thanks, Maki.”

“Yeah you better.”

“Sorry to ruin your bro talk but I would really love to close the place.”

The duo snaps their head up to the talking figure of the worker glaring at them holding a cloth and cleaning spray. His tag reads “Yujin”. Yujin’s voice cuts through the movement like a sharp knife. He glares at Matthew and Maki with a mixture of exhaustion and irritation in his eyes. The cleaning spray in his other hand was pointed like a weapon, a clear sign that his patience was wearing thin.

Matthew and Maki froze, their smiles faltering as they caught sight of Yujin’s unamused expression. The playful banter that had been filling the air just moments before suddenly turned to awkward silence, the tension of being caught by the worker closing in on them.

Matthew and Maki both grab  their things and slowly stood up. They didn’t need any more persuasion from Yujin, who was already wiping down the table with exaggerated speed, clearly eager to get things done.

“Thanks for not kicking us out sooner,” Matthew said, giving Yujin a grateful but apologetic look. “See you around.” Maki threw a casual wave over his shoulder as he headed toward the door, clearly in no rush to leave but knowing better than to argue with Yujin.

Once outside, the cool night air hit them, and they both breathed in deeply, the tension of being on the verge of getting kicked out slowly dissipating. Matthew felt the pressure of the earlier conversation with Maki settle in again, but this time, it felt lighter.

“I guess our main topic of attraction seems to be right opposite us,” Maki's voice carries a teasing edge, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he casually gestures toward the other side of the street.

Matthew follows his gaze, and his heart nearly skips a beat. Standing across the road, as if pulled straight from Matthew’s thoughts, was Hanbin in all his glory. He was wearing a simple black hoodie, jeans that fit perfectly, and his hair styled effortlessly as usual. His eyes immediately lock onto Matthew's, and with a casual yet confident motion, he raises one hand to wave.

Matthew feels his stomach flutter at the sight. Hanbin’s presence, even from a distance, has always had this magnetic pull on him, and seeing him there, just across the street, causes an inexplicable warmth to spread through his chest. He stands there for a moment, frozen, before the reality of the situation fully registers in his mind. Hanbin had seen them. He was already waving. And Matthew... well, he had no choice but to wave back.

“Isn't it just so cute how he looks at you like that?” Maki's voice is quieter now, and Matthew can almost hear the smirk that’s undoubtedly forming on his face.

Shut up, Matthew wants to say, but the words get caught in his throat as he returns the wave, his hand moving almost automatically. There’s something in the way Hanbin is looking at him, something that makes Matthew feel both embarrassed and oddly special. It’s like Hanbin sees through the casual gestures, sees him in a way that nobody else does.

As Hanbin takes a few steps toward them, his expression softens. When he reaches the curb, he pauses, giving Matthew that signature smirk.

“Didn't expect to see you here, Seokmae,” Hanbin says, his voice light but laced with an undertone of something Matthew can’t quite place. He doesn’t seem to be in a rush or distracted; in fact, he seems completely focused on Matthew, his eyes scanning him with a familiarity that makes Matthew’s pulse race.

Maki, sensing the shift, steps back slightly, giving the two some space but not before nudging Matthew with an exaggerated elbow. "I’ll leave you two to do your thing, enjoy."

Matthew shoots Maki a glare, but it’s too late. He’s already turning on his heel and walking away, leaving Matthew alone with Hanbin.

Hanbin smiles, and Matthew feels something stir inside him—a mix of anticipation, nervousness, and excitement. “Hey,” Hanbin says again, his tone casual yet warm. “I didn’t know you were out this way. How was the café?”

Matthew shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant despite the rush of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “It was good. The poor guy had to kick us out, though.” He faces Hanbin, “Why are you here?”

Hanbin smiles, his signature whisker smile, “Just wanted to send you back.”

Matthew blinks, slightly thrown off by the simplicity of Hanbin's response. He expected something different—maybe a joke, maybe some casual excuse—but instead, Hanbin’s answer feels strangely intentional, like he’s saying more without actually saying anything at all.

"Send me back?" Matthew repeats, frowning slightly, his gaze searching Hanbin's face for any hint of mischief or ulterior motive. But all he sees is that warm, genuine smile, the kind that always makes his chest tighten, like Hanbin’s really there for him in a way that no one else is.

Hanbin shrugs casually, his hands tucked into his pockets as they stand in the middle of the street, the soft glow of the streetlights casting a golden hue over everything. "Yeah, figured you could use a little company."

Matthew opens his mouth to argue, but the words don’t come. He’s not sure why, but something about Hanbin’s presence here feels… different. Comfortable, even. Like this wasn’t just about getting Matthew home, but something more.

"You know, you didn’t have to come all the way here." Matthew finally says, trying to keep his voice light, even though his heart is racing.

Hanbin’s smile widens slightly, and he takes a small step closer, their shoulders brushing just slightly. "I know I didn’t. But I wanted to. Besides, it’s not like it’s a big deal." His voice drops slightly, almost like he’s speaking only to Matthew. "Just wanted to make sure you’re okay."

Matthew feels his breath catch in his throat, the words hanging in the air between them, unspoken but clear. He wasn’t used to this—the attention, the care. It’s a lot to process, especially with how easily Hanbin seems to slip into this natural, comforting role in Matthew’s life.

"Why?" Matthew blurts out before he can stop himself. His mind catches up a second too late, and he’s already regretting it. "I mean, why do you care?"

Hanbin meets his gaze, and for a moment, there’s silence. It’s not uncomfortable, just... full of something neither of them is saying. He doesn’t look away, and Matthew feels the intensity of it all—the closeness, the warmth radiating off Hanbin as they stand there.

"Because I do," Hanbin says softly, his voice steady but with an undertone that makes Matthew’s heart race. "And that’s enough."

Matthew doesn’t know how to respond to that. He wants to say something, anything, but the words are lost on him. All he can do is look at Hanbin, caught in the moment, feeling like he’s standing on the edge of something new, something he’s not sure he’s ready for but wants all the same.

“Okay.”

—

+1

Matthew has come to a conclusion. He was deeply in love with Hanbin his whole life. It’s all over. Maki was right.

He cries to Maki and Fuma when he calls them to come over for an emergency meeting.

He’s never been good at this—at confronting feelings, at dealing with the weight of them—but now, it’s too much to ignore. He can’t outrun it anymore. The realization has settled into him like a storm, and now that it’s there, it’s impossible to deny. He is in love with Hanbin. He has been for as long as he can remember. The small moments they’ve shared, the subtle glances, the way Hanbin makes him feel—it's all been leading up to this, whether he’s been aware of it or not.

It’s terrifying.

He can't even explain why it's so overwhelming, but it is. The idea of Hanbin, the person he admires, respects, and loves—seeing him in a new light, in the way he truly feels—is enough to send his heart into a frenzy. What if Hanbin doesn’t feel the same? What if Matthew ruins everything by confessing, by exposing what’s been buried in his chest for far too long?

Maki’s hands are surprisingly gentle as he pats Matthew’s back, his voice full of playful teasing yet laced with a softness that calms Matthew. “So, you finally figured it out, huh? Took you long enough.”

Matthew hiccups through his tears, managing a half-hearted chuckle. “I’m in love with Hanbin.”

Fuma looks at him with understanding, and for a moment, the room is quiet. Matthew can feel the weight of the moment, the vulnerability of admitting something so deeply personal, but then Fuma’s voice cuts through the silence. “And what are you going to do about it?”

That’s the question, isn’t it? What can he do? What if he confesses and Hanbin doesn’t feel the same way? What if it ruins their friendship, ruins everything he’s built with Hanbin?

“Tell him,” Maki suggests, his tone playful yet serious. “You’re wasting time, man. You’ve been dancing around it forever. Just tell him. If he feels the same, great. If not, you’ve still got the best damn friendship with him. But you’ll never know unless you try.”

Matthew shakes his head, still unsure. “What if he—what if he doesn’t feel the same? What if I ruin everything?”

Fuma puts a hand on Matthew’s shoulder, grounding him. “Matthew, nothing is worse than regret. You’ll always wonder what could’ve been if you don’t say something. You need to be honest with him and with yourself. It’s not easy, but it’s the only way forward.”

Maki, always the more dramatic of the two, adds with a teasing grin, “Besides, if Hanbin doesn’t feel the same way, I’ll punch him for you. Nobody breaks your heart and gets away with it.”

Matthew can’t help but laugh through his tears, his heart feeling a little lighter. He knows Maki’s just trying to cheer him up, but it works.

Maki’s eyes gleam with mischief as he pulls a box from his bag, a wide grin spreading across his face. Matthew, still a little flustered from the emotional whirlwind earlier, looks at the box with a mix of confusion and suspicion. “Uh, what’s that?”

“This,” Maki says with an exaggerated flourish, “is the hair dye that’s going to make you feel as bold as your feelings. Trust me, you need this right now.”

Matthew raises an eyebrow. “Bold?” He’s already had his share of bold choices with hair, from brown to blonde in a matter of months, but this… this feels different. He’s not even sure he’s ready for this level of bold . “I don’t know, Maki. I’ve been blonde for a while. Maybe I should just stick to that.”

Maki shrugs, unbothered by Matthew’s hesitation, already rummaging through the box as if it’s a done deal. Matthew hesitates but gives in. He knows when Maki has that determined look on his face, arguing is a waste of energy. He settles into the chair, bracing himself for whatever happens next.

Halfway through the process, Matthew starts to feel something strange. The cool tingling sensation of the dye on his scalp is familiar, but the color? It’s not the subtle change he was expecting. The dye that Maki brought was a deep, almost bubblegum pink, and as it starts to mix with Matthew’s blonde hair, the result is unmistakably… pink .

“Uh, Maki, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind…” Matthew looks at his reflection in the mirror, his eyes widening. His blonde hair is now a soft, almost pastel pink, the transition more vivid than he anticipated. It’s not terrible, but it’s certainly a lot bolder than what he was planning.

Matthew stares at himself for a moment longer. The pinkness is undeniable. It’s soft and playful, but there’s a certain strength in it too. He touches his hair, running his fingers through it as if testing the color’s permanence. It’s definitely different, but somehow, it feels like it might just fit him. Maybe it’s the emotional turbulence he’s been experiencing recently, or maybe it’s just because Maki’s been pushing him in ways he never thought he’d be pushed.

“Alright, I’ll admit it. It’s not terrible.” Matthew sighs, trying to come to terms with his new look. Maki and Fuma are sneaky behind his back.

Matthew’s phone rings, and the unmistakable ringtone blares out— Hanbin’s ringtone . It’s a sound Matthew recognizes a little too well, the one he used to ignore when he was pretending to not feel the things he really felt. But now, with the pink hair, his heart is racing and his hands are shaking. He’s alarmingly quick to answer the phone, practically ripping it off the table as he speaks into it.

“Seokmae! Are you busy now?” Hanbin’s voice is loud and cheerful, echoing through the speaker.

Matthew freezes for a second, caught off guard by how loud Hanbin sounds through the phone. It’s almost as if Hanbin’s somehow right next to him, his voice filling the room.

“Uh…” Matthew glances nervously at Maki and Fuma, who are both peering at him with exaggerated, wide-eyed expressions. The second they notice him hesitating, they both erupt into frantic “NO!” gestures—arms flailing, eyes wild.

“No…” Matthew quickly corrects himself, ignoring the overwhelming, silent screams of Maki and Fuma as they make wild “Say Yes!” gestures.

“Great!” Hanbin’s voice booms through the phone again, even more excited. “Was wondering if you’d like to come for the party tomorrow? I know you don’t really go for these things, but I thought I’d ask anyway.”

Matthew looks down at the phone, trying to process his emotions while Maki and Fuma continue to silently yell at him. Maki, in particular, is miming a theatrical meltdown, hands clasped to his cheeks like he’s about to faint. Fuma has a hand over his heart as if Matthew’s very existence is hanging by a thread, eyes pleading.

Matthew clears his throat, attempting to sound casual despite the chaos happening around him. “Uh… yeah, I mean, I guess I could make it. Sounds… fun?” He glances at Maki, who’s shaking his head wildly, then at Fuma, who’s doing a victory fist pump under the table.

Hanbin lets out an excited noise on the other end. “Awesome! I’ll save you a spot. See you tomorrow, Seokmae!”

And just like that, the call ends.

Matthew slowly lowers the phone, the weight of his decision settling in. Maki is practically vibrating with excitement, and Fuma’s giving him a thumbs-up that feels oddly victorious.

“So…” Matthew says, already feeling a little overwhelmed. “I’m going to this party now, huh?”

Maki claps his hands together. “Yes! See, I knew you’d come through! You’re going to be just fine, Matthew. Just embrace the pink hair and go have fun!”

Fuma grins. “You’re in, man. It’s your moment. Hanbin’s going to lose his mind.”

Wrong, Matthew is the one losing his mind. 

Matthew stands outside Zeta Beta, heart hammering in his chest as the vulgar beats of the most obscene song possible pound through the walls of the frat house. The bass is so heavy it vibrates through his feet, and the cacophony of drunken laughter leaks through the open windows like an ominous warning. The smell hits him next—sweat, alcohol, and a vague, undefined something that makes him immediately regret every decision that led him here. His eyes dart nervously to the front door, and for a second, he contemplates just walking away and never speaking to Hanbin again.

But then, of course, he remembers that Maki insisted on accompanying him— self-invited was the term Maki used, but Matthew feels more like he was dragged into this situation. At this moment, he is eternally grateful that Maki is here, in the flesh, ready to provide backup for his impending social demise.

“I hate this.” Matthew mumbles to himself, adjusting the collar of his jacket for what feels like the fifth time, in a vain attempt to look less out of place. His bright pink hair feels like a neon sign that screams I’m different, I’m new , and that’s the last thing he wants right now.

“Maki, I don’t belong here. Look at that.” He gestures at the chaos behind him. “This is a disaster. There’s no way I can just blend in .”

“Well, yeah, it’s not exactly the most chill vibe, but that’s why it’s a party! And I’ll be here to support you. You’ll be fine. We’ve got this!” Maki smirks, nudging him playfully, and Matthew realizes with a sinking feeling that Maki might actually be enjoying this.

At this point, the door to Zeta Beta swings open, and a frat bro wearing a way too tight shirt, Jiwoong?  stumbles out, nearly colliding with Matthew. The guy looks at Matthew, takes in his pink hair, and grins like he’s seen the most interesting thing on Earth. "Yo! Nice hair!"

Matthew’s face flushes bright red. He doesn't know how to respond, so he just smiles awkwardly and mumbles a thanks. The guy, in his drunken stupor, winks and pats Matthew on the back. “You’re gonna have a blast in there, trust me. Everyone’s vibing!”

Matthew wants to blast into space and never return.

Within the first five minutes of stepping into Zeta Beta, Matthew had already lost Maki. The one person who had dragged him into this mess had vanished into the crowd without so much as a warning. Typical. And now, here Matthew was, standing awkwardly in the corner of a frat house that smelled like a mix of sweat, alcohol, and bad decisions.

In those same five minutes, he’d received four separate compliments on his hair—two were genuine, one was a slightly slurred “Duuuude, love the cotton candy vibes,” and the fourth was the cherry on top of this nightmare.

“Hey, Pinkie Pie! Where’d you park the party cannon?” a guy yelled across the room, laughing as if he’d just made the joke of the century.

Matthew’s entire soul left his body. Pinkie Pie . PINKIE FUCKING PIE . Out of all the names in the universe, they picked that one? This was obviously the universe’s sign for him to leave immediately , but no. No, Matthew had one mission tonight: find Hanbin, say hi, and then disappear from the face of existence. He could handle five more minutes of this torture.

As he wove his way through the crowd, dodging flying ping-pong balls from a beer pong table and narrowly avoiding being pulled into a chugging contest, Matthew’s anxiety was skyrocketing. The music was so loud he could barely hear his own thoughts, and every time someone so much as glanced in his direction, he felt like his pink hair was screaming for attention.

“Yo, Pinkie!” another voice called, and Matthew nearly tripped over himself trying to avoid eye contact.

Deep breaths, Matthew. Deep breaths.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of navigating through sweaty partygoers and accidentally stepping into what he hoped was just spilled beer, he spotted a familiar face. Hanbin, standing near the kitchen, his signature whisker-like smile lighting up his face as he chatted with someone.

Matthew hesitated for a moment, suddenly hyper-aware of how ridiculous he must look—pink hair, slightly frazzled, and definitely out of place. But then Hanbin turned, and their eyes met. Hanbin’s face lit up even more, and he waved enthusiastically, his whole body practically bouncing with energy.

“Seokmae!” Hanbin called out, his voice somehow cutting through the noise. He started walking toward Matthew, and in that moment, Matthew felt like the world had slowed down.

But before Hanbin could reach him, someone else appeared at Matthew’s side—a drunk frat bro holding a cup of something that smelled vaguely like gasoline.

“Dude, you’ve got awesome hair,” the guy slurred, leaning a little too close. “You’re, like, a walking party mascot. Can I call you Pinkie Pie?”

Matthew’s brain short-circuited. “I’d... really prefer if you didn’t.”

The guy ignored him, grinning like he’d just found his new best friend. “Nah, Pinkie Pie’s perfect! You’ve got the vibe.”

“Seokmae!”

Hanbin’s voice cut through the chaos like a lifeline, and before Matthew could fully register it, Hanbin was there. Not just stepping in—no, he practically shoved himself between Matthew and the overly enthusiastic frat bro, his presence radiating both warmth and quiet authority.

“Hey, you made it!” Hanbin’s smile was wide, his whisker-like grin as disarming as always. But there was a subtle edge to his tone, a kind of protective undertone that Matthew almost missed amidst his racing thoughts.

The frat bro, now boxed out by Hanbin, looked mildly offended but too drunk to really argue. He muttered something incoherent about party mascots and wandered off, leaving Matthew alone with Hanbin.

“Thanks,” Matthew managed, though his voice cracked halfway. His heart was already pounding, but now it was racing for an entirely different reason.

Hanbin turned to him, his smile softening as he took in Matthew’s clearly frazzled state. “You okay? He didn’t bother you too much, did he?”

“N-no, I’m fine,” Matthew stammered, mentally kicking himself for how unconvincing he sounded.

Hanbin tilted his head, his eyes scanning Matthew’s face like he didn’t quite believe him. Then, with a slight tug on Matthew’s wrist, he said, “Come on. Let’s find somewhere quieter. You look like you’re about to combust.”

Matthew let himself be led through the crowd, his pink hair catching the occasional glance and comment, but Hanbin’s presence made it easier to ignore them. Every step away from the chaos felt like a step closer to sanity.

They finally stopped in a small, slightly quieter corner of the house—though quieter was relative when the bass was still rattling the walls. And there was still quite a huge crowd nearby. Hanbin turned to face him fully, his smile as bright as ever but his eyes holding a trace of concern.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Well isn’t that awkwardddddd

Matthew stood there, practically vibrating with discomfort, his mind spinning in ten different directions. Hanbin, on the other hand, looked as calm as ever, though his fingers were now carding gently through Matthew’s pink hair. The unexpected touch made Matthew freeze for a second, the sensation oddly comforting, though it also sent heat rushing to his face.

“It suits you,” Hanbin murmured, his eyes warm and fond as he tilted his head to look at Matthew. “The pink, I mean.”

“T-thanks,” Matthew managed, his voice barely above a whisper. He could feel his blush spreading to the tips of his ears, and if Hanbin’s slightly pink cheeks were anything to go by, he wasn’t the only one affected. Then again, Hanbin had been drinking—maybe it was just the alcohol.

The silence stretched between them, thick and charged with something neither of them seemed ready to name.

“Well…” Matthew started, just as Hanbin opened his mouth to speak, only for them both to be interrupted.

“Yooooo, nice hair!”

Matthew barely had time to blink before a very drunk frat guy staggered up to them, immediately slinging a heavy arm around his shoulders. Matthew stiffened, his brain going into overdrive as the guy leaned in far too close, his beer breath practically slapping him in the face.

“Seriously, bro, you’re like... a cotton candy... warrior or something!” the guy slurred, shaking Matthew slightly as he rambled.

Hanbin’s expression shifted in an instant, his easy smile replaced with something more unreadable. He stepped forward, placing a hand on the frat guy’s arm—firm but polite. “Alright, I think he’s had enough compliments for one night. Why don’t you go grab another drink?”

The guy doesn’t seem like the type to take a hint. His arm tightens around Matthew’s shoulders like a vice, his drunken smirk growing more insistent. “Nahh… Come to bed with me, Pinkie. I’ll make you feel goo—”

Before he can finish, the grip is gone—wrenched away so abruptly that Matthew stumbles backward. He barely has a second to process what’s happening before he’s pulled into the safety of a firm, warm embrace. Strong arms wrap protectively around his waist, and he finds himself pressed against Hanbin’s chest, the thudding of his heart almost loud enough to drown out the chaos around them.

“Back off,” Hanbin says, his tone sharp enough to cut through the haze of the party. There’s no mistaking the edge in his voice, no room for argument.

Matthew doesn’t dare to look at what’s happening behind him. He feels murmurs and whispers slowly growing around them, but he doesn’t care. He buries his face in Hanbin’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut as the weight of the night crashes down on him. He doesn’t care about the drunken guy, or the stares they’re probably getting. He just wants to go home.

Hanbin seems to sense it, his hand moving to rub soothing circles on Matthew’s back. “It’s okay,” he murmurs softly, his earlier sharpness melting away as he leans down slightly, speaking only to Matthew now. “Let’s get out of here, alright?”

Matthew nods, still clinging to him like a lifeline. Hanbin shifts, adjusting his hold so he’s shielding Matthew as they make their way toward the exit. The noise of the party fades into the background, replaced by the comforting steadiness of Hanbin’s presence.

“Listen, Seokmae, I’m so sorry.” Hanbin starts the second they step foot into Matthew’s small, cozy dorm. His tone is hurried, almost panicked, as if the weight of guilt is crushing him. “I shouldn’t have asked you to come tonight. I knew you’d be uncomfortable, and I—”

“No, really.” Matthew cuts him off, staring guiltily at the scuffed floor. He fiddles nervously with the hem of his shirt, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s me. I wanted to be there. I thought I could handle it, but I’m sorry if I ruined your night.”

“No.”

Hanbin’s voice slices through the air with a sharpness that makes Matthew flinch. Startled, he looks up to meet Hanbin’s eyes, wide with emotion and something else—something intense.

“Matthew—stop. You didn’t ruin anything. You could never ruin anything,” Hanbin says firmly, stepping closer. His hands move to grip Matthew’s arms gently but with purpose, grounding them both. His gaze is unwavering, searching Matthew’s face for any sign of doubt. “If anything, I ruined it by putting you in that situation. But I need you to hear me out.”

Matthew nods silently, his heart hammering against his ribs.

“Seokmae,” Hanbin begins again, his voice softer now, almost trembling. “I can’t keep pretending anymore. Every time I see you, it’s like the whole world fades out, and all I care about is you. I don’t care if you hate parties or if you don’t like my obnoxious jacket—hell, I actually like that you don’t.” He huffs a shaky laugh, his grip tightening slightly. “I like everything about you. No—I love everything about you.”

Matthew’s breath catches, his mind racing to keep up with what he’s just heard.

Hanbin takes a steadying breath, as if the confession has left him completely bare. “I love you, Seokmae. I don’t care if you’re not ready to say anything back or if you don’t feel the same. I just... I couldn’t keep it in anymore. You mean so much to me.”

The silence that follows is deafening, and Matthew feels like he’s floating. No, he’s falling—falling into the warmth of Hanbin’s words, his presence, the undeniable truth he’s been running from for so long.

Matthew takes a shaky breath, his own hands moving up to rest on Hanbin’s. His voice is soft, but the sincerity in it is unmissable. “Hanbin… I—”

This was his moment. Matthew knows it.

“I love you too, hyung.”

Hanbin’s eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. “You—wait, really?”

“Yes, really.” Matthew’s lips curl into a small, shy smile as he feels the heat rush to his cheeks. “I didn’t realize it at first, but every time I’m with you, it’s like nothing else matters. It’s you, Hanbin. It’s always been you.”

Hanbin blinks rapidly, his expression shifting from disbelief to overwhelming relief. A wide, genuine smile spreads across his face, the kind that makes his whisker-like dimples deepen. Without thinking, he pulls Matthew into a tight hug, burying his face into the crook of Matthew’s neck.

Matthew lets out a soft laugh, his arms wrapping around Hanbin in return. The embrace is warm, grounding, and so full of unspoken promises that it feels like everything has finally clicked into place.

“I can’t believe this,” Hanbin mumbles against Matthew’s shoulder, his voice tinged with both awe and giddiness. “You love me too.”

“I do.” Matthew pulls back slightly to look at him, his cheeks still pink but his eyes steady. “But, uh, can we maybe skip the next party invite? Or at least warn me about the questionable music choices?”

Hanbin laughs, his eyes crinkling with joy. “Deal. No more frat parties for us. Just... I don’t know, movie nights? Hanging out? Anything you want.”

Matthew grins, feeling a newfound lightness settle over him. “Anything I want, huh? I might hold you to that.”

“You can hold me to anything,” Hanbin says, his tone softening again as his gaze drops to Matthew’s lips. “Anything.”

Matthew doesn’t hesitate this time. He leans in, closing the gap between them as their lips meet in a kiss that’s both tentative and full of all the feelings they’ve finally admitted. It’s warm, sweet, and just a little clumsy, but to Matthew, it feels perfect.

It seems like they left the door unlocked, when Maki lets himself in, face in full concern to find Hanbin and Matthew out, he shouts.

“YESSS!!!”

—

++1

Sung Hanbin remembers the first time he saw Seok Matthew.

It was during the second week of school, and while most of the other kids were busy forming their little cliques, there was Matthew, sitting alone on a bench, staring at the ground like it held the secrets to the universe. Hanbin didn’t know much back then—just that Matthew was Canadian and somehow, that made him “different.” Different enough for the other kids to leave him out of games, ignore his ideas in class, and treat him like an outsider.

But Hanbin wasn’t like most kids.

He’d never been one to follow the crowd.

So, on that day, while the others were busy on the playground, Hanbin walked over, plopped down next to Matthew, and introduced himself.

“Hi, I’m Hanbin. Wanna play with me?”

The way Matthew’s face lit up in that moment was something Hanbin would never forget. It was a kind of happiness that burrowed into Hanbin’s heart and made itself at home. And from that day on, Hanbin decided he wanted to be by Matthew’s side—forever.

Hanbin begs, and by begged , he meant dropping to his knees in the living room and threatening to never speak to them again if they didn’t let him stay in the same grade as Matthew. At first, his parents were confused. Then they were horrified. But ultimately, they gave in. Hanbin’s parents were soft-hearted people who adored their son and his friendships. They didn’t fully understand why this particular friendship meant so much to him, but they saw how genuine his determination was.

He’s thankful Matthew doesn’t ask why he repeated a grade, he had been rehearsing his lie of “I was too busy helping my cousin so I failed.”

Hanbin had always been something of a prodigy. Not in an arrogant way—he just absorbed everything his teachers taught him like a sponge. In high school, Sung Hanbin was, in every sense, a golden boy.  

Academically, there wasn’t a single subject that posed a challenge for him. Straight A’s? Check. Distinctions? Every single one. Math Olympiads? He brought home trophies like they were souvenirs. Teachers adored him—not just for his brilliance but for his respectfulness and diligence.  

And it wasn’t just academics where he thrived. Hanbin was a force of nature in extracurricular activities. Debate champion, swim team captain, and, of course, the student council president. He was practically omnipresent, juggling responsibilities with an ease that made everyone wonder if he had secret clones.  

People gravitated toward him naturally. His name wasn’t just well-known—it was revered. Sung Hanbin was the kind of person everyone either wanted to be or wanted to be with. He knew his popularity well.  Every Valentine’s Day, his locker and desk became ground zero for confessions. Chocolates, roses, and pink letters of admiration—he practically needed a wheelbarrow to carry everything home. The sheer volume was overwhelming, but Hanbin never let it get to his head.  

When someone worked up the courage to approach him with a confession or a gift, he handled it with unparalleled grace. He’d smile warmly, thank them sincerely, and decline just as gently. “I’m really flattered,” he’d say, his tone soft enough to soothe any sting of rejection.  

And somehow, no one ever got mad.  

Hanbin had that rare kind of charisma that made even rejection feel like a privilege. People would walk away with smiles, cherishing the fact that he had spoken to them so kindly.  But despite the swarm of admirers and the constant attention, Hanbin’s focus never wavered from the one person who mattered most to him—Seok Matthew.  

It wasn’t something he advertised, nor something he thought he needed to. His feelings for Matthew weren’t the kind that screamed for attention. They were quiet, constant, and steady, like the soft hum of a familiar tune playing in the background of his life. It just sends Hanbin into the softest person in the world when Matthew approaches him and goes on with a rabble on a random Pokémon.

No matter how much noise the world made, Matthew’s presence was the only thing that truly mattered to him.  

If he were to sum his high school life up, it would be “With Matthew” and “Without Matthew”. 

When university application results were released, Hanbin was there for Matthew, holding him tightly as he cried. Matthew was devastated, his dreams of attending the same prestigious university as Hanbin slipping away with every tear. He felt like he had failed, as if there was no way he could catch up to Hanbin’s success.

Hanbin didn’t say much, he just lets Matthew cry into his shoulder, knowing words wouldn’t fix this moment. But what he didn’t reveal was that he had also received his acceptance letter to the top university. 

And when Matthew’s sobs eventually subsided, Hanbin reached into his bag and pulled out the acceptance letter for the university Matthew had gotten into. He held it up, letting Matthew see it.

Matthew blinks in surprise, momentarily forgetting his tears as he stared at the letter. At that moment, Matthew’s tears dried. His usual light returned to his eyes, and Hanbin knew he had made the right choice. That was all Hanbin needed.

Hanbin crumples the acceptance letter of the prestigious university behind him.

Hanbin’s acceptance into the frat had always felt like a blur. The initiation, the hazy nights filled with noise and laughter, the hazy sense of belonging—it all felt like a dream. The only thing he could clearly remember was the time spent with Matthew. The quiet moments when they’d sit side by side, just enjoying each other’s presence.

The reputation he’d built in the frat—his so-called "big dick" image—was never something Hanbin cared for. It was a product of his own impulsiveness, a series of poor decisions made in drunken haze. He didn’t intend for it to become the way people viewed him, but as soon as the rumors started, he didn’t have the strength to shut them down.

It was during one of those nights, a blur of alcohol and laughter, that the rumors began to snowball. At the time, Hanbin hadn’t thought much of it. It was just another story, another passing moment. But as people started approaching him with a mix of respect and curiosity, asking for the details he never even had, it became a part of him that he could no longer escape.

And then Matthew found out.

Matthew had always been perceptive, and when he confronted Hanbin about it, Hanbin acted dumb, feigning ignorance, hoping to avoid facing the truth. He hated that he had to lie, but he couldn’t bring himself to fully admit how much of a mess he’d made. How much he regretted that side of himself, especially when it came to Matthew.

Since then, Hanbin hadn’t slept with anyone else. The moment Matthew’s hurt was laid bare in his eyes, something inside Hanbin clicked. It wasn’t just a matter of reputation anymore. He didn’t care about the frat’s approval or anyone else’s opinions. What mattered, what had always mattered, was Matthew.

That was the day Hanbin realized how far his feelings for Matthew went—how deep they ran. The frat and its noise, the empty distractions, faded away. What remained was Matthew. His quiet presence, the way he made Hanbin feel seen in a world that always seemed loud and chaotic. And from that point forward, Hanbin made a silent promise to himself: he would never let anyone else take that place in his heart.

There was only Matthew. And he would make sure Matthew knew that, even if it meant confronting his past, confronting the mistakes he’d made. Even if it meant letting go of the part of himself that had once been so eager to please others. He had chosen. And it would always be Matthew.

As Hanbin grew older, his feelings for Matthew deepened in a way he hadn't anticipated. It wasn't just about liking him anymore— it became something far more consuming, more significant. His affection for Matthew evolved with each passing year, intertwining with their shared memories, their quiet moments, and their years of friendship. Hanbin realized that he didn’t want to keep these feelings hidden. He didn’t want to merely admire Matthew from a distance anymore. No, he wanted to claim him, to show the world that Matthew was his and that he was Matthew’s. There was a deep sense of longing and devotion in Hanbin’s heart, one that he could no longer suppress.

He found himself seeking advice from the only two people he could trust in his frat, Jiwoong and Hao. They were the voice of reason in a sea of chaos, the ones who could actually offer him logical advice amidst the noise of Zeta Beta’s more... colorful personalities. Hanbin often found himself confiding in them, sharing his frustrations, his doubts, and his feelings for Matthew. Both of them were supportive, offering sound advice, though they often teased him for being so obvious about his affections.

However, the frat had a tendency to be full of idiots, and it didn’t take long for word to get out. Hanbin could already see the glances, the smirks, and the knowing looks whenever he was around Matthew. His heart-to-heart conversations with Jiwoong and Hao weren’t as private as he thought. The frat brothers had a unique talent for eavesdropping.

It was after one particularly intense conversation with Jiwoong and Hao, where Hanbin had been spilling his heart out about how much he cared for Matthew, that he decided enough was enough. He wasn’t going to let anyone in the frat make light of his feelings or use them as gossip material.

So, he gathered the whole frat together, his voice calm but firm. He made everyone kneel on the floor, a dramatic gesture that only increased the tension in the room. With a serious expression, he handed out contracts to each of them. The terms were clear: everything discussed within the frat walls, every piece of personal information, would stay there. No exceptions. Anyone who violated the oath would be immediately excommunicated from the group.

Gyuvin cried. Taerae swore he’ll never upset Hanbin ever again.

Inviting Matthew to one of Zeta Beta's parties was something that Hanbin had done on a whim. He didn’t think Matthew would come, honestly. It was just a casual suggestion. Why would Matthew—so careful and reserved—decide to step into the chaotic, unpredictable mess of frat life? But then, to Hanbin’s surprise, Matthew actually accepted. And not just that—Matthew walked in with Maki, and something about his new look stopped Hanbin dead in his tracks.

The pink hair.

For a few moments, Hanbin could only stare, utterly stunned. He had known Matthew for years, had watched him go through all sorts of phases, but this? This was different. The pink hair was so unexpected, so out of character, yet it fit Matthew in a way that made Hanbin’s heart skip. He stood there, almost frozen, as he tried to process what he was seeing.

It was an overwhelming feeling, and Hanbin wasn’t sure how to react. To calm his racing thoughts, he started reciting the periodic table in his head. Element by element, just to bring some order back into the chaos in his mind. It wasn’t working. Nothing could have prepared him for seeing Matthew like this.

When he finally mustered up the courage to approach, he was immediately swept into the noise of the party. The music was loud, the people even louder, and the air was thick with the smell of alcohol. Matthew, standing there with Maki, looked completely out of place. Hanbin wanted to go to him immediately, but he was stopped by the drunken frat brothers that kept stumbling over to Matthew, slurring words that Hanbin couldn’t even bother to listen to.

And that’s when something in Hanbin snapped.

He had always prided himself on being calm, collected, someone who didn’t let the chaos of the frat house affect him. But tonight? Tonight, all he could think about was Matthew. He couldn’t stand seeing him surrounded by drunk, obnoxious people, especially when they looked at him like he was just another conquest to be had. It was as if a demon was unleashed in him—a version of Hanbin he didn’t know existed. It was primal, protective, and it surged through him all at once.

When one particularly persistent guy stepped too close to Matthew, refusing to take no for an answer, Hanbin didn’t hesitate. His fist met the guy’s jaw with a sickening thud, sending the guy sprawling to the floor, knocked out cold. The crowd around them instantly went silent, and then, as if they’d been waiting for this, they erupted into cheers. But Hanbin didn’t care about the attention, didn’t care about the new reputation that would undoubtedly follow him.

He had one priority, and one priority only: Matthew’s safety.

Hanbin had it all planned out—he would take Matthew to a ring workshop, one of those places where you could design custom-made rings together. A quiet, intimate moment, just the two of them, where they could create something that symbolized their bond. Then, after that, he would slip the heartfelt letter—no, the five-page document—he’d written, detailing all his feelings for Matthew, the years of friendship, the hidden affection, the subtle longing. It was going to be a moment of confession, one that Hanbin had rehearsed over and over in his mind. But that wasn’t how the night will unfold one day. He’d confessed at that exact night with an outraged mind.

But then Matthew had looked up at him with those big eyes, and suddenly the weight of everything settled on Hanbin. His anger, his frustration—it all melted away. There was no need for a five-page letter, no need for a carefully planned confession. Matthew’s presence, his acceptance, it was everything Hanbin needed to hear, everything he needed to feel.

Matthew had reciprocated. Without a word, without even knowing it, he had given Hanbin everything he needed. That one look, that one moment, when their eyes locked, and Hanbin could see the truth in them. Matthew wasn’t running. Matthew wasn’t pushing him away. He was there, standing with him, just as he always had. Hanbin realized in that instant that his plans, his carefully crafted speech, didn't matter. 

Matthew was already there.

The confession was simple, raw, unspoken. And Hanbin didn’t need anything else. All the rehearsed words in the world couldn’t compare to the unspoken understanding that passed between them in that moment. It was like everything finally clicked into place.

As they stood there, in the quieter abode of Matthew’s dorm, with Hanbin’s arm still around Matthew, he realized that sometimes the most profound moments weren’t the ones you’d spent years planning for. Sometimes, the truth came when you least expected it, in the heat of the moment, when everything else fell away, and it was just the two of you, knowing exactly where you stood.

“YESS!!”