Bsk Angst - Tumblr Posts

they thought wrong ✩ svt bsk

pairing — Boo Seungkwan x fem!reader

genre — one-shot, angst (fluff at the end ?)

summary — you think too much, honestly.

warning(s) — a certain explanation might seem like a pathetic excuse but that was intended, Seungkwan being a dummy, not proofread

word count — 1.9k words

author’s note — thank you very machi to my friends who aren’t on Tumblr who gave me birthday presents 😍🫶🏻 including my dear dear brother who practically stepped on his ego to buy me a svt album <3 also very grateful to @hyeunfae and @piakae for dealing with my nonsense for the past year and five months 😜 love y’all

You thought he was avoiding you.

Ever since he joined Pledis as a trainee, your connection to him was cut off. He wouldn’t text you ‘good morning’ anymore, and he wouldn’t call you to catch up on things. You two lived in different continents, so you could easily brush it off by saying that it was difficult to find time when both of you were free for a chat. But when you had sent him a text congratulating him on his debut, he hadn’t replied for days. It was only a week and a day later that he replied:

Oh gosh I’m so sorry I didn’t see your text. I’ve been so busy with my schedule that I didn’t have time. I’m so sorry for not calling you nowadays. But thank you so much for congratulating me. I promise I’ll make it up to you when I can 😭

Even after the message, he didn’t call. He didn’t text you a ‘how are you?’ once in a while to check up on you. The little promise he made through text — he was starting to break it — except, was it that little at all?

You joined Pledis as a trainee after getting scouted at a train station. You had just got off your flight from England, where your parents were currently living. You hadn’t bothered to notify him of your arrival, thinking he wouldn’t even see it, and were stuck choosing between accepting the Pledis agent’s offer or declining it for the sake of your and his ego. In the end, you decided to accept it, darning him if you ever crossed paths in the company building.

Luckily (or unluckily, depending on how you view it), you met him only once: when you were introduced to Lee Jihoon, otherwise known by his stage name Woozi. A staff of Pledis found out that you had produced lots of wonderful music during your time in Europe, and decided that it should be put to good use. You briefly met him when he came to give Jihoon something. You two barely had any interaction, save for some eye contact that lasted a second too long to mean nothing. Jihoon definitely noticed something between you guys, but was smart enough to say nothing.

For the next three months, there was no sign of him at all. He seemed to avoid everywhere he thought you would go to frequently. He wasn’t the one giving things to Jihoon anymore. But during those three months, you started to worry about when you debut — when you had to interact with your label mates. You tried pushing those worries aside, dealing with them when they’re important enough.

The tenth of June, 2018, had arrived. You debuted as a soloist and garnered millions of views in five hours. You couldn’t understand your fame, however. All of your social media accounts were set on private and little to no one knew Pledis had even casted you at all (not even your friends from England). You didn’t think much of it, though, when you met your dearly missed friend at Mnet the next day.

You had no idea that he would be one of the MCs. You didn’t know any of the SEVENTEEN members were MCs in the first place, specifically for Mnet. You thought he would be too busy to be posing as an MC, but alas, perhaps MCing was the one making him busy. You performed perfectly fine even with the thought of you talking to him being your confirmed fate in a few minutes’ time. By the end of your debut stage, the audience was cheering loudly for you, but now that the stage was over, your anxiety was slowly building up inside of you.

The interview didn’t look as bad as you felt it to be. It went smoothly. There were no awkward questions or responses, and he had a smile plastered on his perfect little face the entire time. It ended rather quickly, and you found yourself regretting not revelling in the moment more. You hadn’t had a proper conversation with him in years.

You thought he would refrain from interacting with you now that the interview was over. He didn’t have any reason to talk to you, and you weren’t really willing to hear him out for the years he didn’t text you. But he approached you when you were chatting with your stylist in the waiting room. He asked for some privacy, which was gladly given.

You didn't break eye contact for more than a minute. He seemed to have something to say but couldn’t get it out. At last, after what felt like an eternity, his lips parted.

“I’m sorry.”

Such useless words they were. You always thought they didn’t have any meaning, that they didn’t matter unless something was actually done to prove the genuineness. You shook your head and attempted to leave the room, but he quickly grabbed your wrist. You felt the desperation in him before you heard his words.

His voice broke as he said, “Let me explain. It’ll take some time, but I will explain everything to you.” But there wasn’t anything to explain. It was crystal clear that you weren’t important to him anymore — or so you thought. You were always thinking too much.

You pulled your hand from his loose grasp, a silent plea to leave you alone; but he was desperate. He didn’t want anyone witnessing your not-too-happy interaction, so he gripped your shoulders firmly — loose enough for you to walk away, but forceful enough to let you know his intention. You gave in.

He seemed to be lost in his thoughts for a second, because he was staring at you as if wondering if he should actually proceed or not. “I can’t do this here,” he whispered, sounding frustrated. At you or himself, you did not know. But what you did know before he voiced the words was that he wanted to meet with you to talk. You were ready to decline his offer when he interrupted your thoughts.

“Please,” he pleaded with you, irises filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place in your head. “Give me this one chance. I’ll make it up to you.”

You remembered those last few words: they were from three years ago, eight days after he debuted. You remembered it clearly. How he had ‘promised to make it up to you’ in that one message that would be the only you’d receive in the years to come. You wanted to walk away if it weren’t for the look he was giving you.

He was tearing up, then you realised he was shaking. He was shaking. He rarely shook in your presence. You looked him in the eye and felt like tearing up, too. But you held back the tears and said firmly, “One chance to redeem yourself.” Then you walked away and did not look back.

—

There was no need to decide on a place to meet up since it was already obvious to the two of you. It was always at a playground when you two made up for the arguments you had when you were younger and both living in South Korea. And there was that one playground in Seoul you always wanted to go to when you were living in Jeju. You thought he’d know you would be there. For once, you thought right.

You both approached each other at the same time, hands in jacket or pants pockets, wearing a cap but no mask. It was in the dead of the night that you both happened to arrive at the playground. You wondered what was in store for you.

He didn’t beat around the bush when you were in close enough proximity to hear each other’s whispers.

“I’m not one to manage my time properly, you know that.” Of course you knew. You’d been friends for years — ever since you came out of the womb. “I didn’t know when I could call you. Maybe you were busy with assignments or already sleeping, I didn’t know. I thought you didn’t use KakaoTalk anymore since you moved. I wasn’t sure of many things, so I waited for you to contact me instead. When you messaged me congratulating me on my debut, my members were around me a lot, so I couldn’t answer you without them teasing me. I replied when I was alone and could read your entire message.”

There was much more to come. There were three years’ worth of explanation to be done. You waited.

“Truthfully speaking, I was spending so much time with my members that I forgot about you for a while.” That you could understand. With twelve other members in the group, your chat could easily reach the bottom of the page. “I thought about you once in a while, but because my members were almost always with me, you were quickly drowned out in my mind. It wasn’t until you started working with Jihoon that I kept thinking about you.” Was he trying to flatter you now? “I met you that once, but it was too awkward. I thought you wouldn’t want to meet me again. The gods seemed to help me for once because I never saw you until just now.”

For four years’ worth of explanation, whatever he just said was considerably short — but it all made sense to you. He didn’t want his members teasing your relationship with him whenever he texted you. Having twelve members was surely chaotic and made his days eventful. And of course he would fear the awkward tension between you two — both of you had always feared awkwardness in your relationship. You never knew you would experience it.

You were too caught up in your head to notice that he was crying. It was only when he sniffed that you came back to reality and saw the droplets of water on his cheeks. The cheeks you’d kiss with platonic intentions as a form of goodbye. Before you knew it, your hands were on them, thumbs wiping away the tears you hated seeing. “Don’t cry,” you whispered, voice almost betraying you. “I hate seeing you cry.”

When he didn’t stop, you tugged him closer for a hug. A warm, welcoming hug that screamed “I forgive you” in all directions. You rubbed his back in smooth circles as he silently let it all out. It was funny how he was the one crying and you were the one comforting him. You thought it was the other way round.

He cried for five minutes. Even though you knew he stopped, you didn’t halt your actions you knew were bringing him comfort. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll do whatever for you to forgive me.” He knew that you had already forgiven him, but he wanted to gain your trust again. He wanted back that trust he had when he was younger and more immature. And, yes, he knew it would take another decade to regain that trust. He betrayed it.

He didn’t deserve your warm and comforting hugs. You gave him the undeserved right to claim those hugs whenever he wanted with two words which told him not to cry. The fact that you just gave back everything he’d left behind after his simple and what he thought was a not-good-enough explanation.

You pulled away and wiped away the tear stains on his cheeks that you could see from the moonlight shining on the both of you. Then you leaned in, lips brushing his cheekbones, leaving a soft kiss there. He realised at that very moment how broken he left you.

How much love he could have gotten if he hadn’t left you.

gal this is so good I shedded tears 😭🙏🏻 I literally can’t wait for the rest of Serenity Street 17 to come out !!!!!!

The First Step

Boo Seungkwan x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, coming of age

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: mental breakdowns. adulting is hard. food mentions. mutual pining. 

[Series: Serenity Street 17] Your neighbour witnessed your mental breakdown and decided to take you under his protective wing.

The first step is always the hardest. 

You found yourself repeating the mantra to yourself day and night after moving into your new apartment. It was a free comfort. 

No more parents, siblings or roommates. Just you, yourself, and your new independence, in an apartment that you were almost entirely responsible of. You could decorate to your own desires, you could sleep until noon without anyone judging, you could get as many houseplants and paintings and chairs and blankets as you ever wished. 

You had smiled brightly when you first placed your three plates into the cupboard and fluffed the cushions on the sofa. You had laughed in joy when you played your music out loud without anyone telling you to lower the volume. These were your first steps into adulthood and the first steps were always the hardest. 

Keep reading

boop

they thought wrong ✰ svt bsk

pairing — Boo Seungkwan x gn!reader

genre — one-shot, angst (fluff at the end ?), idol!au

summary — you think too much, honestly.

warning(s) — a certain explanation might seem like a pathetic excuse but that was intended, Seungkwan being a dummy, an implication that reader is fem and boy-girl friendships are abnormal

word count — 1.9k words

author’s note — birthday angst for a certain someone ;) very grateful to @hyeunfae and @piakae for dealing with my nonsense for the past year and five months 😜 love y’all <3

You thought he was avoiding you.

Keep reading

it's a deal — b. seungkwan

pairing: non-idol! seungkwan x reader

word count: 4,409

genre: fluff, high school, rivals to lovers, minor angst

warnings: reader faints

author's notes: they're both high school students in their final year, joining a singing competition.

“And… the four that will be making it to the finals of this year’s Performing Arts Competion; Singing division are… Jang Nayeon, Boo Seungkwan, Lim Soojin, and L/N Y/N.” You had zoned out the rest of what the emcee had explained, your head focused on the second name announced as you turn your head to look at your classmate and rival, Seungkwan, who was smiling gleefully towards the crowd.

Despite the small on your face, it never reached your eyes as panic began overflowing within you. You were to compete against three other amazing singers, however, one of them is your lifelong (if you count the beginning of high school as your life) rival, Boo Seungkwan—a musical prodigy and social butterfly, who, since your freshman year, had competed against you and won since you had met him in at the high school orientation program.

Noticing the daggers you were sending to him, Seungkwan leaned on his side so you could hear what he spoke through his smile, “I hope you’re ready to win runner-up again.”

You had to hold yourself back from stomping his feet right there, in front of the crowd gathered in the assembly hall.

“We’ll see about that,” you responded through gritted teeth, the chuckle that rumbled from beside you only fueled the blood in your system.

Your “friendly” high school rivalry with Seungkwan started off during orientation week, when you both started out high school. The seniors were curious as to who had talents amongst the new students, and your student supervisor, Jun, pushed you to the front because he remembered you singing randomly during group discussions and thought your voice was beautiful. Despite your protest, Jun successfully got you to stand in front of everyone, with five other students, Seungkwan amongst the bunch.

There were two students that showed their talent in dance and rap, and one choosing to do a skit with a few of their friends, leaving both you and Seungkwan with singing. The seniors said it wasn’t a competition, until one of your peers quipped that it should be—it makes up for the lack of drama during this session (whatever that meant, you remember thinking). So, you and Seungkwan were given a few minutes to decide which song you wanted to sing to out best one another, and thus, the impromptu singing competition, and beginning to your rivalry with him.

You had decided to go with a safe choice, something you had practiced in the comfort of your bedroom—Hello by Adele. Whereas, Seungkwan chose a bold choice, an option that showcases his vocal capabilities but also gives him a chance to interact with the crowd, giving him plus points for his charisma—Juice by Lizzo.

Safe to say, you lost.

Did it hurt your ego? Not really, you admitted that he was great and he deserved to win because it was genuinely fun to watch. But did it hurt your pride? Yes, very much. Maybe it was because of the brief validation from your senior, acknowledging that you had talent that gave you a boost in your confidence, but to know that the lack of charisma became your downfall, it did hurt. A bit.

Just enough.

Just enough that when you both joined competitions upon competitions, that the damage to your pride began to pile atop one another. Every single competition that you had joined and Seungkwan did, too, you’d always fall second when it came to being put up against him. Despite the compliments you get from judges, they weren’t enough because at the end of the day, you’d be standing a step shorter below Seungkwan, a silver trophy in your hand as a gold shimmers within his.

You wondered how it felt to hold a gold trophy with your name on it, and you’d look down beside yours to see Seungkwan holding your usual silver trophy.

You were able to achieve it, although, only the first half of that fantasy. The one time you held a gold trophy with your name engraved in the plaque

You were able to achieve it, although, only the first half of that fantasy. The one time you held a gold trophy with your name engraved in the plaque was during sophomore year. Unfortunately, Seungkwan wasn’t able to join that competition because he was busy when another high school had asked him to come to their school festival as a guest star. It wouldn’t have hurt, to be honest, you were finally holding a gold trophy for heaven’s sake. However, when no one came to support you from your school (granted, the sign-up was from your own accord and you didn’t tell anyone besides your vocal coach and Yeri), that was when the realization hit.

It didn’t matter if you won first place in a high school singing competition. It didn’t matter because you didn’t matter—not the way that Seungkwan matters.

You weren’t sociable. You had one friend, Yeri, but she’s your friend from middle school and now goes to a different high school to you. You couldn’t bring yourself to socialize with your school friends because during school, you were focused on studies, and after, you were at the studio, practicing with your vocal coach, Coach Wendy. Even when there were group discussions or assignments, you didn’t engage with them too much, not because you didn’t want to, but because they didn’t. All your classmates are so used to seeing you sitting alone during lunch, or cooped up in the music room, that they barely know anything about you besides the fact that you hate Seungkwan and you love singing.

And no one hates Seungkwan—no one, but you.

“Why do you hate him so much?” Yeri asked you, as she lied on her stomach on top of your bed. You had just finished your usual rant after being announced to enter the finale with Seungkwan—your rant consisting of various curse words, gosh I just want to wipe that stupid, smug look on his face, and repeatedly stating how you were finally going to hold that gold trophy and flaunt it in front of his face. Yeri couldn’t help but mimic your exact words when you weren’t looking.

“I thought we went through this already?”

Yeri rolled her eyes, pushing herself up and hugging your pillow to her chest. “We have, but…” She merely shrugs. “I still don’t get it—it’s not like he pulls stunts and cheats and bribes to get his wins, right?”

She had a point, you were lucky to still have some common sense in you to think that, but not enough to admit it. So, you just utter awkwardly, “We don’t know that.”

“Y/N,” Yeri sighs, before shaking her hand, deciding to drop the conversation since there was no way you’d retake your statements. “Whatever, what song are you going to sing?”

You nibbled on your bottom lip, thinking. Coach Wendy had already provided with a total of five choices, to which you asked for more time and you can weigh in between two options. “I’m still deciding between All I Ask by Adele, and The Power of Love by Celine Dion.” Yeri’s eyes immediately widened when she heard the latter. “What?”

“Celine Dion, she’s hard, no?”

With pursed lips, you nodded. “Kind of… that’s why the safest option is Adele because I’ve already practiced that song so many times.”

“Didn’t you sing that in a different competition?”

You shook your head, “It was during an internal thing—my senior’s festival, I think.”

“Ah…” She nodded in understanding. “But, do you really want to take the safe route? Knowing who your competition is?” Yeri regrets saying that; she knew well enough that her statement was a push against your competitive side, and having known you for over five years, your competitive side was… damaging.

The last time she remembers you being overly competitive was during the last year of middle school, and it was the last time you’d be having a competition between classes. You were so adamant to win, since your class had a history of being last place, but because of that obsession, you almost broke your arm when you lost your momentum and tripped over a hurdle. You managed to get out of there with a sprained wrist and scabs where your hands and knees made contact with the hard ground.

“I’ll… I’ll have to consult it with my coach, though. The competition is next week and I have to submit the song I’m singing by Wednesday.” Safe might be good if your competition wasn't Seungkwan, Y/N.

“I'll be there, by the way,” Yeri spoke up, breaking you away from your thoughts. She then looked conflicted for a second, unsure whether to ask, but decided to ask anyway, “Have you told your parents?”

Your face dropped, a heavy weight pressing against your chest as you allowed yourself to fall back into your bed, besides Yeri. A heavy sigh left your lips, an enough answer to her question.

Your parents weren't exactly supportive of this dream of yours—to be known as an amazing singer, and to hopefully achieve more than winning second place (and one first place) in high school competitions. They believed all your efforts were in vain, and that you should just focus on your studies, enter a prestigious university and a conventional major before obtaining a boring nine-to-five job in some corporate business.

They've never attended any of your competitions, and you know they never will—especially when your parents are the type to think that second place is equivalent to not winning anything at all, that it's first place or nothing.

You remembered showing them your first place trophy after Coach Wendy dropped you off. Any parent would be proud to see their children achieve something, anything really, except your parents. Instead of praise, you were berated. They scolded you for joining something so useless when you could've used your time and effort to get better grades than your B+ average. Despite their protests and being against this dream of yours, you were persistent on proving to them that you deserve to chase this career path. Thus, your obsession with joining competition after competition, in hopes to collect more first places, more recognition to finally get the praise and validation that you deserve.

That's why you hated Seungkwan. He was in the way.

And that is also why you were adamant on singing The Power of Love, despite Coach Wendy's worries that you weren't ready.

“Then make me ready, Coach,” you pleaded, desperation laced around your voice as you locked eyes with your coach, the obvious hesitancy as she stares back at you. “I'm– I'm sure with enough practice, I can perfect the song.”

“It's not about just perfecting the song, Y/N,” she begins, pushing past you towards the piano in the studio. “Besides vocal range, they judge you for your skill to play along with notes without making it sound forced—you can't just sing it note-by-note, but allow things to flow and mesh together to make everything sound natural, as if it's just another song.”

“And you don't think I'm capable of doing that?” You were growing too sensitive. This happens when your competitive juices are above its average level.

“Y/N, that's not what I'm saying—”

“I bet you think Seungkwan could pull this off.” You childishly crossed your arms over your chest, earning an eye roll from your coach.

“First of all, don't cut me off,” she warns, holding up her pointer finger, “and second, Seungkwan is not my student, so I don't know what he's capable of.”

“But you've heard him, you've watched him and I've seen how you look at him when he sings—as if you wished he was your student.” Guilt tripping. Wendy knew that was your tactic in getting what you want, and after the two years she's become your coach, she knew that there was no way of escaping when you get this desperate.

With a heavy sigh, Wendy gives in. “We'll have to spend the next week every day, after school practicing, leading up to the competiton—we’ll practice vocal warm-ups for thirty minutes before running through the song, until our session ends.

“Also, pace yourself, Y/N, this isn't a national competition, you don't need to push yourself over your limit,” she warns, “I want you to do your best, but I don't want you to overdo it—make sure you're healthy on the day of, and I only want you practicing when we're in the studio. Pacing yourself will give you room to adapt, and you won't risk injuring yourself.”

You might've nodded, but you didn't understand—you didn't listen.

Practicing only when you're in the studio? Nope, you practiced in your school's music room and also, at home when you knew your parents were still working.

Pacing yourself? Not that either, you found yourself singing for almost three hours straight trying to get the bridge perfect. You were lucky you didn't lose your voice on the day of the competition.

Healthy on the day of? With a pounding headache from lack of sleep, and only having eaten a slice of bread and a cup of orange juice in the morning (the competition was in the evening), you knew you were screwed.

Thankfully, Coach knew of you didn't like being approached before the competition started, allowing for alone time and to put yourself in the zone.

You couldn't put yourself in the zone because of your sleep deprivation, the zone was your bed and dreamland.

“So, what song did you decide to go with, Y/N?” Great, just what your headache needed—a pain in your ass.

“I'm not in the mood to deal with you, Seungkwan,” you grumbled, grabbing a water bottle provided and downing it. You had approached a committee if they could go buy you a pain killer, or ibuprofen for your headache, and they have yet to come.

A witty response was sitting at the tip of Seungkwan’s tongue, waiting to release but when he caught sight of your eyebags, pale skin and chapped lips, worry took place instead. “Y/N, are you okay?”

With furrowed brows, you faced him, “Why do you care? You're hoping I back out? Forfeit? You wish.”

He raised his arms up in feign surrender. “I just asked what song you decided to sing.”

Again, your suspicions towards him didn't subside. “Why? So, you can steal it from me?”

He couldn't help but laugh at your outrageous claims. “If you didn't notice, it's competition day and the final day for song submission was two days ago, I couldn't even if I wanted.”

“Aha!” You exclaimed, causing him to wince at your sudden yell. “So, you admit, you do have intentions to cheat.”

The look he gave you proved that what you needed right now was sleep because whatever you just said did not make any sense.

“No, Y/N, I don't,” he begins, moving forward to stand beside you to utter something so only you can hear, “Why would I need to cheat at something I'm good at?”

Anger reached the points of your ears and you turned around, finding Seungkwan making small talk with the committee member that you had asked for help. With a tight smile, you took the ibuprofen and headed to the waiting room, downing one with a chug of water.

Unfortunately for you, it barely helped subdue the pounding in your head, and the anger in your veins. Talking to Seungkwan in general was an already bad idea, you weren't sure as to why you still interacted with him. Trying to find a distraction, you headed out to see the audience, finding Yeri and Coach Wendy seated besides each other in the second row, and Yeri spotted you, waving happily at you.

“My parents?” You mouthed towards her and she stood up, looking around the already crowded audience, before sending you a lok of pity, brows furrowed in worry. Despite the bile rising in your throat, you forced a smile and shook your head, trying to reassure her it was alright.

You had sent them an invitation consisting of the finale poster, but there was zero response.

“Y/N? Where's Y/N?” Upon hearing your name, you turned to find the Event Organizer, holding a clipboard with the rundown as he looked around for you.

“That's me.”

“You'll be performing first, alright?” Though your eyes weighed a ton, you tried keeping them open, but because you were so focused on looking like you're awake, you could barely make out the words coming out of the EO’s mouth. “… Be on standby when the speech is being delivered.” What speech? Who's delivering it? Before you could ask again, he was pulled away to deal with a different issue assuming you had gotten everything down.

You didn't, but because you didn't want to risk not being on standby at the right moment, you were already standing close to where you'd head out through from the beginning of the event, until the principal of the school stepped out to deliver the opening speech. You thought for sure, you'd come on after this, but turns out there was a speech from not only the principal, but also the head of the Music department and also the Project Manager for the competition.

You found yourself standing by the entryway towards the stage for almost forty minutes, and when you were about to go sit for a second, the same EO hushed for you to get ready, gesturing that you'll be on after this.

At this point, the headache was causing your vision to blur, and with every step you took, your sight was hazy and a tunnel began to form, slowly inching towards completing blacking out your vision. However, you repeatedly pinched yourself, trying to keep yourself awake as you heard the intro to the song you chose, your stomach grumbling at the same time, indicating your lack of nutritions to keep you up.

You barely got through the first verse before your vision goes completely black, and you found yourself backstage on a blow-up mattress, a piece of warm cloth on your forehead.

Coach Wendy and Yeri were there with you, but only Yeri kneeled besides you, her hand clasped over yours.

“She's awake—Coach, she's awake,” Yeri exclaimed, causing Wendy to approach you with an unreadable look on her face.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?”

“What happened?” Wendy sighed heavily when you ignored her question, turning her back towards you before uttering that she's going to talk with the committee. “Comm– the competition!”

You say up, but Yeri held you back. “Y/N, you fainted—the competition is currently still on break, but it'll proceed with the next contestant in a few minutes.”

“… I fainted?”

“Yeah, do you not—”

She was cut off by the door of the room being pushed open, revealing a distraught Seungwan, worry etched all over his features as he locks eyes with you, observing your situation.

“I knew something was wrong,” he claims, his loud voice causing a stabbing pain to crack through your skull. Realizing his mistake, he winced, genuinely worried.

“The medic said she might've overexerted herself,” he explains to Yeri, who just nodded. Seungkwan’s eyes returned to you, now set in a frown. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“How is that any of your concern?” He couldn't help but scoff, rolling his eyes. Sensing the obvious tension between you two, Yeri stood up, pursing her lips.

“I'm going to the convenience store across here, I'll bring back something for you to eat and drink, alright, Y/N?” Not giving you a chance to protest, she turns and gives Seungkwan a look, as if to tell him to go easy on you, you just fainted, before she slipped out the room.

The heavy air lingered as Seungkwan took a seat on an available chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares– no, glares at you. “So, do you mind explaining how you fainted?”

“I think I lost consciousness,” you deadpanned, causing him to release an annoyed sigh.

His face then contorted to that of disbelief. “Is it really that serious, Y/N? To the point you're willing to put your health at risk? It’s just a high school competition.”

“Maybe to you,” you couldn't help but snap. “Maybe to you it's just a high school competition, that it doesn't matter because this is just another gold trophy to add to your collection, Seungkwan.”

“You've already made it to the final, Y/N, either way, you're leaving with a prize.”

You stared at him as if he grew three heads. “You think I'm doing this for just a prize? No, Seungkwan, I'm doing this for the prize—I'm doing this for first place.”

“Seriously? And you're willing to put yourself at risk for that? For a trophy you can get made?”

You gritted your teeth, feeling your patience reach its limit. “Look, maybe to you it's insignificant, maybe to you that this is just another damn competition to add to your overflowing achievements, but it isn't to me.

“This is my chance to prove a point, that this career path is worth taking all these risks, alright? Because, newsflash! Not everyone has the support system to assure you that you're doing well, that what you're doing is right. So call me shallow for basing my dreams of off high school achievements and validations.

“I don't have anyone—I have my coach and I have Yeri, but even they can't give enough support. You– you have the entire school out there supporting you, not met. You have your parents, you have your friends, and you even have complete strangers out there supporting you, Seungkwan. I don't have that luxury.

“So, yeah, I'd say that putting my health at risk is worth it if I win first place.” You finally take in a deep breath, all that you were waiting to say, finally said out loud. “But… but I fainted and screwed everything up anyway, so… early congratulations on your win.” The finally statement tasted bitter as it left your lips.

There was a brief moment of heavy silence between the two before Seungkwan spoke. “If it's that important to you, Y/N, then I'll step out of the competition.”

A deafening silence hung in the air before you scoffed. Then you chuckled. Then you were laughing.

“You… You might as well spit in my face and step all over me if you'd let me win by default, Seungkwan.”

“You're going to be disqualified because you couldn't finish the song, at least with me backing out, you'd get third place because you got to start your song.”

Again, you scoffed. “Then I wouldn't be held accountable for my actions—my disqualification would be the result of my carelessness to my health, and I'm already coming to terms with that. And you said it yourself, it's a high school competition.

“I can accept the fact that I'm disqualified because I wasn't able to finish the song, but I will not accept you stepping out just because you pity me, Seungkwan.”

Before he could say anything, you slipped in one more statement. “If you did that, Seungkwan, I'll actually, truly hate you forever.”

He couldn't help but smirk, chuckling at your statement. “Don't you already hate me?”

You sighed, knowing that if you didn't come clean, that he'd actually go to a committee member and inform them of his departute from the competition. “I don't hate you—I'm envious of you, Seungkwan, and that envy just translates to anger.”

He doesn't say anything, but sits up, resting his chin on his hand, waiting for you to elaborate.

You rolled your eyes before continuing. “You're everything I could've wanted and more; you have a versatile and amazing voice, you're an extrovert that's known and liked by everyone you meet, you have a vast support system… I'm sorry I hate you because I'm jealous.”

There was a moment of silence from him as he processes what you said, before a knowing grin appeared on his lips. “I'm everything you wanted… and more?”

The realization that you really need to sleep struck you, as you quickly tried to correct yourself. Your sleep deprivation has you speaking absolute nonsense. “You're everything I could've wanted to be.” The look on his face showed that he wasn't convinced, but he didn't pry.

“What more could you want to?”

“Nothing.” He only raised his eyebrows towards you, causing you to roll your eyes. “You need to go out there, you have to be on standby.”

He spared a glance at the door, finally standing up. “Fine,” He says with a sigh, “I'll go out there and perform—I won't back out.”

“Good—”

“Under one condition, Y/N.”

You squinted suspiciously at him. “What?”

“There's a vocal contest next month, but it's for duos only,” he explains, “you become my duo, then I'll go out there right now and let you lose fair and square.”

You sneered at his last statement, thinking about the duet contest. Seeing that you were conflicted, Seungkwan quickly quipped, “You'll finally get another first place—I just hope you don't mind sharing.”

After a beat, you sighed. “Fine. It's a deal.” He smiles widely, reaching out to shake your hand, but you shook your head. “We're not that close.”

“Fine.” He turns on his heels to head out the door, but stops before he could leave. Looking back at you, his face had changed to that of more serious, yet… gentle. “And it's not true that no one from our school supports you, Y/N. I do, I've always supported you. Maybe you were too blinded by your hate for me that you never realized, but…

“The reason why I kept joining competitions alongside with you was to give support so that you'd finally beat me with your own efforts, because I know you're more than capable of you'd pace yourself and give yourself time,” he explains, “Just because I compete against you, doesn't mean that I never want you to win against me—so, Y/N, get better, then after our duet, we can go back to competing with each other and maybe, you'll finally be able to flaunt that gold trophy over my face.”

You didn't realize tears were stinging at your eyes as he finished his vent. You couldn't help but chuckle, shaking your head, before looking back at him in determination.

“You're on.”