Chapter Text
i made a playlist for this 🩵
──── . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁🪽. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ────
They say every university has that one person—their own campus celebrity. Someone who shines a little brighter, who feels almost untouchable. The kind of person everyone knows they can admire from afar but never quite reach.
At Cheonguk University, that person was Yoon Jeonghan, a third-year literature student whose reputation preceded him. And rightly so. Jeonghan was the school’s resident angel, a title he wore as effortlessly as his sunny smile. His beauty was undeniable—radiant and graceful—but it was his warmth that truly set him apart.
Academics weren’t exactly his strong suit, but Jeonghan made up for it in ways that mattered more. He was a consistent presence in every charity event, a tireless volunteer for causes close to his heart. It was almost a cliché, how beautiful he was—inside and out—but with Jeonghan, it was simply the truth.
You see, he was an active volunteer at the local orphanage, spending after school hours studying and playing with the children. Meanwhile, he spent his Sundays volunteering at the local pet shelter, showering the animals with love until they each found their forever home.
And when Jeonghan wasn’t busy with school or volunteer work, he would be out on the school field, serving as the football team’s unofficial waterboy—though if you were to ask the players, he was more like a cheerleader, radiating enough positivity to lift their spirits.
It was no wonder, then, that Jeonghan’s near-perfection became a campus-wide legend. From the moment new students set foot at Cheonguk University, they were bound to hear about the school’s very own archangel. If Helen of Troy could launch a thousand ships, Yoon Jeonghan could rally an army of sleep-deprived, over-caffeinated college kids, all ready to follow him with starry eyes and loyalty that bordered on absurd.
Yeah... I wish I was exaggerating, too.
So, if the beloved Yoon Jeonghan had the admiration of practically everyone, why the heck was he still single?
Ah, well—that’s where his best friend came in.
Remember how Jeonghan spent his spare time with the football team? It wasn’t because he had any interest in the sport. No, his reason had a name: Choi Seungcheol, the team’s star attacking midfielder.
Seungcheol—or Cheollie, as Jeonghan affectionately called him—had been by his side since time immemorial. They were a package deal, seemingly bound by an invisible string. From grade school to university, they ended up in the same schools, shared similar interests, and moved through life with an effortless sync.
Jeonghan liked to call them soulmates. Cheol would always roll his eyes at the term, dismissing it as corny—but deep down, he knew it was true.
Their bond was so close that most people assumed they were secretly dating. And honestly, no one was brave enough to ask outright. After all, behind Jeonghan’s sunshine-bright smile was always Seungcheol, whose default expression was a death glare sharp enough to make even the boldest souls think twice.
So, the assumption stood unchallenged: where there was Jeonghan, the intimidating Seungcheol was never far behind.
The universal assumption that Jeonghan and Seungcheol were secretly dating only began to unravel when Seungkwan and Nayeon—Jeonghan’s friends from the literature department—begged him to join the annual pageant.
“I’m telling you, this pageant is different, Han!” Seungkwan panted, struggling to keep up as Jeonghan speed-walked toward the field. “There aren’t separate categories for boys and girls. Everyone’s gonna fight equally!”
“Don’t say ‘fight’. You’re making it sound like they’re going to brawl onstage,” Nayeon added, likewise breathing heavily. “Also, can we please stop walking and talk like normal people!?”
Jeonghan shook his head, his hair bouncing with each determined step. “Can’t. Cheol’s practice is about to start.”
Nayeon groaned while Seungkwan threw his hands up dramatically. “Of course! It’s always about the not-boyfriend-boyfriend.”
“He’s just—”
“Your best friend. Yeah, yeah, we know.” Nayeon rolled her eyes. “But the rest of the world doesn’t.”
Jeonghan shrugged. “I don’t care. Let them think what they want.”
Seungkwan and Nayeon exchanged a look.
“So, you really don’t care if people think you’re making out with Cheol under the bleachers after practice?” Seungkwan asked, a sly grin spreading across his face.
“Nope.”
“Doesn’t bother you that guys are too scared to shoot their shot because of Cheol?” Nayeon added, her tone equally mischievous.
“I’m not interested in them anyway.”
“Right.” Seungkwan’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Because the only person you’re interested in is Cheol.”
Jeonghan came to an abrupt stop, causing Seungkwan and Nayeon to skid to a halt a few steps ahead. “Hey! Just because I got tipsy and loose-lipped at your sleepover doesn’t mean I was telling the truth!”
Seungkwan raised an eyebrow. “So, you don’t actually like Cheol?”
“Of course I do!” Jeonghan puffed his cheeks, looking affronted. “He wouldn’t be my best friend if I didn’t.”
Seungkwan’s expression turned sly. “Yeah, but do you like him romantically ?”
“Like who romantically?”
The deep, gravelly voice cut through the air, freezing Seungkwan and Nayeon in place. They turned slowly, hair standing on end.
As if magically conjured by their gossip, Seungcheol appeared behind them, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed dangerously. “Who are you talking about?”
“No one!” Seungkwan blurted, a little too loudly. “It was a hypothetical question!”
Seungcheol’s gaze sharpened, his silence pressing down on them until Jeonghan stepped in. “What are you still doing here? Isn’t practice about to start?”
At the sound of Jeonghan’s voice, Seungcheol’s expression softened as if someone had flipped a switch. The transformation was so immediate that, had they not been mildly terrified, Seungkwan and Nayeon would’ve teased him mercilessly for being so obviously whipped.
“Cancelled,” Seungcheol said, his tone gentler. “You don’t have any more classes, right? Wanna grab some ice cream?”
Jeonghan’s face lit up, and he clapped his hands like an excited child, shuffling in place. On anyone else, it might have looked ridiculous—on Jeonghan, it was downright adorable.
Without missing a beat, Seungcheol took Jeonghan’s books from his arms and guided him away, his large hand resting gently on Jeonghan’s back as they headed toward the school yard.
“Jeong! Don’t worry about the pageant, okay?” Nayeon called out, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Seungkwan and I will handle everything—just say the word!”
Seungcheol glanced sideways at Jeonghan, who responded with a weary sigh.
“Pageant?”
“It’s nothing,” Jeonghan muttered. “They’re talking about the one for the campus fair.”
“Oh.” Seungcheol let the conversation lapse into a comfortable silence. But as they passed through the university gates, his voice cut through the quiet again. “You should join.”
“What!?”
“I heard the cash prize is pretty hefty.”
Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Oh, there’s a cash prize?”
“Yep.” Seungcheol nodded. “Apparently, some oil mogul decided to fund the event or something.”
“And you know this because…?”
Seungcheol shrugged nonchalantly. “Mingyu told me. He’s joining, too.”
“He’ll win for sure. That guy’s a beast.”
“Seriously, Hannie. You should join.” Seungcheol reached out, wrapping his fingers around Jeonghan’s wrist and halting him in his tracks. His voice softened. “I mean, you don’t have to if you really don’t want to. I just thought of it because you mentioned the pet shelter’s food supply running low the other day.”
Jeonghan stared at him, his expression unreadable. Seungcheol could almost see the gears turning in his head.
“I mean, I could join for you,” Seungcheol added quickly, “but I doubt I’d win—”
“No! I mean, you’d have a really, really strong chance!” Jeonghan cut him off, his voice sharp with urgency. “It’s just...now that you mentioned the shelter, the orphanage could also use some money for the kids’ hygiene kits and art supplies...”
He bit his lip, clearly weighing his options. His brow furrowed, creating a small wrinkle on his forehead, and Seungcheol found the sight so endearing he couldn’t help but smooth it out with a gentle swipe of his finger.
“Don’t overthink it,” Seungcheol said, his grin warm and easy. “You’ll get wrinkles before you’re even thirty.” The sunlight framed his face, turning him into a living halo, and Jeonghan had to squint as if he might go blind from the brightness.
“How much is the cash prize?” Jeonghan asked, his voice barely above a murmur.
“Mingyu said $1,700...so about ₩2,480,000.”
Jeonghan’s jaw dropped. “Holy smokes...”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁🪽. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
And that’s how Jeonghan found himself standing onstage at Cheonguk University’s annual pageant. The discomfort lingered, but every time doubt crept in, he reminded himself of the children and animals who would benefit from his efforts. The thought steeled his resolve, transforming his nerves into determination.
True to their word, Seungkwan and Nayeon pulled out all the stops. They handled Jeonghan’s outfits, makeup, and hairstyle with meticulous care—accentuating his features to make him appear even more elegant than usual.
Jeonghan had always been effortlessly beautiful—even when dashing frazzled and sweaty from one lecture to the next—but no one was quite prepared for the sheer majesty he embodied on pageant night.
Not even Seungcheol. Especially not Seungcheol.
Jeonghan radiated grace as he glided across the stage, his practiced smile hiding the way his knees trembled beneath him. He aced the Q&A portion, dazzled in his angelic formal wear, and sang with his whole heart during the talent portion.
Suffice it to say, as his every move enraptured the crowd and made him the favorite, it didn’t come as a surprise when his name was announced as the winner. The shimmering crown sat perfectly on Jeonghan’s head as if it had been made for him.
The cheers had barely settled when the nosy emcee leaned into his microphone and asked, “Jeonghan-ssi, before we wrap up this year’s pageant, I think it’s only fair to address what everyone’s dying to know—are you, perhaps, already taken?”
Jeonghan’s eyes widened, a blush crawling from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He froze, staring at the emcee for a beat too long before his gaze instinctively darted to the front row.
Seungcheol sat there, staring daggers into the emcee and mentally drafting a hundred different ways to make him regret asking that question.
The emcee wasn’t deterred. “Well?”
“Well…” Jeonghan swallowed hard. He tore his eyes away from Seungcheol, refocusing on the crowd. His smile returned, albeit hesitant. “No, I’m not taken. I’m, uh, very single.”
The audience erupted with delight. The sheer volume of cheers and whoops made the auditorium tremble. But as Jeonghan snuck another glance at Seungcheol, a shiver ran down his spine.
Seungcheol’s jaw was clenched so tightly that Jeonghan half-expected it to crack. His expression was a mix of fury and disbelief, like a king watching his castle burn and realizing he had lit the torch himself—after all, he was the one who had encouraged Jeonghan to join the pageant.
But as regret twisted his features, it was clear—Seungcheol had never regretted anything more in his life.