𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐃𝐄; boysnextdoor

again ; sungho

Y/n stood at the window of her small apartment, the soft hum of Seoul drifting through the air like a song she couldn’t quite place. The city, once a bustling landscape of opportunity and dreams, now felt suffocating—its lights, the crowds, the never-ending rhythm of life. She had come here years ago, full of hope, her heart tethered to Taesan. But now, that chapter had closed.

It had been months since their breakup, but the pain still lingered in her chest, a dull ache that surfaced when she least expected it. She had thought love would last forever with him, that their bond was unbreakable. But love, it seemed, wasn’t as simple as she once thought. In the end, he had left, and she was left to pick up the pieces of her shattered life.

Seoul wasn’t forgiving to those who fell apart. After their split, Y/n had struggled to find herself again. She hadn’t worked during her relationship with Taesan, putting her dreams on hold to support him, to be by his side. And now, alone in a city that had once felt full of promise, she found herself starting from scratch.

The design company she’d found work at was small but steady. It wasn’t the grand career she had dreamed of, but it was a start. Y/n buried herself in her work, sketching designs, creating patterns, and keeping her head down. It was easier than facing the emptiness that lingered in her personal life.

But amidst her daily routine, one presence began to stand out—Sungho, one of her older colleagues. He was quiet, steady, and kind, the type of person who exuded calm even in the busiest moments. Y/n noticed how he’d always offer to help when she struggled with a design, how he’d leave small compliments on her desk—post-it notes with encouraging words written in neat handwriting.

At first, she thought nothing of it. It had to be simple kindness. After all, Sungho was known for being helpful around the office, the sort of man everyone could rely on. But over time, she found herself looking forward to his presence. His laughter, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the gentle way he’d listen whenever she talked. He was different from Taesan—where Taesan was all passion and fire, Sungho was a calm ocean, soothing her without even trying.

One evening, as Y/n worked late to finish a project, Sungho appeared at her desk.

“Still here?” he asked, placing a cup of coffee next to her. “You work harder than anyone here.”

Y/n smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I don’t know about that. Just trying to keep up.”

He leaned against her desk, his eyes scanning her work. “You’re doing more than keeping up. You’re doing great.”

There was something in his voice that made her pause. She glanced up at him, searching his expression, but he just smiled that warm smile of his.

“Thanks,” she murmured. “I needed to hear that.”

“You know,” Sungho continued, his tone thoughtful, “I’ve noticed how hard you’ve been pushing yourself lately. I get it—Seoul isn’t easy. But you don’t have to carry everything on your own.”

Y/n looked down at her hands, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the paper on her desk. She didn’t talk about her breakup with anyone at work. It was too personal, too raw. But something about Sungho made her want to open up, just a little.

“It’s been hard,” she admitted softly. “I… I gave up a lot for someone, and now, it feels like I’m trying to figure out who I am all over again.”

Sungho nodded, his gaze understanding. “It’s tough, isn’t it? When you lose someone, it feels like a part of you is missing. But that doesn’t mean you’re lost. You’re still here, still standing, still creating.”

Y/n felt a lump form in her throat at his words. It was rare for someone to see her so clearly, to understand what she was going through without her having to explain. For a moment, they sat in silence, the soft glow of the office lights casting shadows on their faces.

“You’re a good person, Sungho,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

He smiled, his eyes softening as he looked at her. “I just want you to know you’re not alone, Y/n.”

In that moment, something shifted between them. It wasn’t dramatic or overwhelming, but it was there—a quiet understanding, a connection that had slowly been building over time. Y/n felt her heart beat a little faster, and for the first time in months, she felt something other than the lingering sadness of her breakup.

The weeks that followed were different. Sungho became more than just a colleague. They began spending more time together, grabbing lunch, sharing stories, and laughing over small things. There was a quiet intimacy in the way they’d sit next to each other, shoulders brushing as they worked late into the evening. Y/n found herself smiling more, the heaviness in her chest slowly lifting with each passing day.

One evening, after a particularly long day at the office, Sungho suggested they go out for dinner. They found a small, cozy restaurant tucked away in one of Seoul’s quieter neighborhoods, the kind of place that felt like a hidden gem. As they sat across from each other, the soft glow of the candlelight illuminating their faces, Y/n felt a warmth spread through her. It wasn’t just the food or the atmosphere—it was Sungho, his steady presence, the way he looked at her like she was the most important person in the room.

“Y/n,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the restaurant. “I know you’ve been through a lot. But I want you to know… I care about you. More than just as a colleague.”

Her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. She looked at him, her eyes searching his face for any hint of uncertainty, but all she saw was sincerity.

“I… I care about you too,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly. “But I’m scared. I’m scared of getting hurt again.”

Sungho reached across the table, gently taking her hand in his. “I know. And I won’t rush you. But I’m here, Y/n. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

In that moment, Y/n felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time—hope. Maybe it was too soon, maybe her heart wasn’t fully healed yet, but with Sungho by her side, she felt like she could take the next step, even if it was small.

As they left the restaurant, walking side by side under the Seoul night sky, Y/n realized that maybe, just maybe, she could start again. And this time, she wouldn’t have to do it alone.