requested by chu!! it's nice to write another request of yours, i always love your ideas. thank you for requesting, hope you like this awkward channie here!!
Christopher Bahng had always been there. Shy. Quiet. Invisible in the way people only noticed when they needed someone to pass them homework. A huge nerd, painfully awkward, and universally labeled a loser.
He played basketball for the school team, but no one ever chanted his name. No posters on lockers, no swooning in the bleachers. That spotlight belonged to the captain.
Your boyfriend.
And you? You were the school sweetheart. The girl everyone loved, the couple everyone admired.
On the surface, you had the perfect relationship: hand-holding in the hallways, soft kisses behind the gym, giggles that made people smile just hearing them.
Underneath, it was cracked straight down the middle. Your boyfriend flirted too much. Looked too long. Smiled too easily at girls who weren’t you. You were exhausted from pretending not to notice.
Your school was hosting a friendly match that afternoon. You showed up out of habit, out of obligation, out of routine. You sat in the bleachers, scanning the court for your boyfriend, until someone else caught your attention.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Blonde hair damp with sweat. His jersey clung to a back carved with muscle, his arms flexing every time he moved. Biceps thick, forearms veined, hands big enough to palm the ball with insulting ease.
He moved with a quiet confidence you’d never noticed before, focused and sharp in a way that made your attention linger. Every time he jumped, every time he scored, something in your chest tightened. It took you longer than you’d like to admit to recognize him.
Chris. Christopher Bahng. The biggest loser in the senior class.
Except suddenly, that label didn’t fit at all. He was older than you. Bigger than you. And suddenly, painfully endearing.
After the final buzzer rang and your school won, the gym erupted. You slipped away from the noise, searching for your boyfriend, only to find him under the bleachers with a blonde girl pressed against him. His hands were too familiar. His mouth was too close.
Something in you went cold. Then strangely calm.
Fine. If he wanted a blonde, you could have one too.
Chris was near the lockers, gulping water like he’d just run a marathon. Sweat darkened his shirt, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. Up close, he was even bigger than he looked on the court. Towering, solid, the kind of presence that made you have to tilt your head slightly just to meet his eyes.
He didn’t see you until you stopped directly in front of him. He froze, his eyes widening as they traveled down to meet yours. His grip tightened around the bottle, thick fingers flexing unconsciously. His ears turned red so fast it was almost impressive.
You didn’t say anything, just held out a small, heart-shaped post-it with your number written neatly across it. His hands shook as he took it.
"F-for me?" He blurted out, staring at the paper like it might disappear. His voice cracked. "I mean... I mean, I just... Wow." He let out a nervous laugh and dragged a hand through his hair, somehow making it messier.
"You’re… you’re really pretty. I mean, you obviously know that. Everyone knows that. And I’m just..." He gestured vaguely at himself, flustered, as if he couldn’t see what you were seeing when you looked at him. "I’m literally nobody."
His smile was crooked, uncertain, completely genuine. "Sorry, I'm... I'm nervous. Clearly."
And somehow, impossibly, you found it adorable.