In the last few months you’ve seen less and less of jeonghan, naively trusting his claims that his comeback requires extensive preparations. It’s difficult to understand being in a position such as his, for a demanding, best-selling group of artists require more rehearsals and more attention in order to remain at the very top. You couldn’t imagine the stress he endured, so you never minded when he’d call you late at night, sleepily letting you know of his whereabouts with the other members. You’d always give in, letting him have his freedom if it meant seeing him smile. Though his honesty began to twist from that point on, for less than a month later his colleagues would kindly message you, about him.

Joshua Hong, 12:48am - Sry to bother you, just wanted to make sure Jeonghan got back home safe~

You, 12:50am - He isn’t with you?

Sooner or later, incoming calls from the others would appear, leaving you distraught at the hundreds of thoughts peddling through your mind about your boyfriend’s location.

“We finished rehearsing about an hour ago, like we have for the last five weeks. He told me he was going straight home to you?”

“He isn’t here, but thank you for being honest with me ‘Kwan.”

you bite your lip tensely, bouncing one leg up and down as you sit by your bedroom window. Just the idea of him being in an unsafe situation triggers your mind, though for some reason you can’t let yourself believe this has all been happening unintentionally.

You, 1:12am - Hannie?

You, Imy, are you almost home?

You, 1:15am - idc where you are just tell me you’re ok

~

By morning, your eyes blink open to whisps of hair tickling your shoulder, and an arm tightly clung to your waist. In the moment you want to shake him startled and interrogate him with questions that have kept you up all night. But you wouldn’t dare, instead nudging closer to him in the comfort of his warmth.

But this always happens, by the next morning he finds his way back to you, and you let him off without question. Sooner or later will he even return anymore?

He bids you a gentle farewell for another day of work as you twirl a strand from his perm back into place, softly pecking his cheek before returning to your office. When he shuts the door back into its position, you make a sharp turn for the bathroom, digging through the hamper for any evidence of his travels. Part of you is seeping with noisiness, begging to discover what kind of truths he’s been hiding. Another side of you can’t believe you’d let yourself lose this much trust in him, someone you’ve spent years of memories with.

You pull out his attire from last night, slightly damp from sweating through never-ending dance practices. As you shake off his sweat pants a natural, floral-scented fragrance fills your senses, which has never been your go-to aroma.

Pondering further on your thoughts you place his clothing back into the dirty pile feeling more distressed than before. A small, dark object slips out of his pocket, catching your eye by the sink, and only until after it’s swatted away in a scream do you realize it had only been a false eyelash. Your eyes widen, crouching over its place on the tile floor as your hand covers your gasping mouth.

Never in your life had you touched a pair of false lashes, and your just about positive his members haven’t either.

~

That evening you sit yourself comfortably at the kitchen table, only hiding your growing anxieties from the situation jeonghans brought to your attention.

He enters through the door, lazily kicking off his shoes before making his way over to the leftovers you’d left for him. Sometimes. when he found himself too exhausted, he’ll resist the urge to give you a sign of affection, not wanting to throw his hangriness onto you.

“Do we have any glue, hannie?” you mention.

His eyebrows furrow, doe eyes widening as he turns to you with a chuckle.

“And what would you need glue for sweetheart?”

“How else am I supposed to stick these falsies on?” You question half ignorantly, and watch as all the color drains from his face in an instant.

He rushes to your side, kneeling beside the chair you angrily perched on.

“S-Sweeheart you need to listen to me-“

“What is there to listen to Jeonghan!” You rise from the table, hands fisting around the now-dry pair of lashes before they’re throw towards his face.

In the time you’ve loved Jeonghan, you’ve never seen your boyfriend break down this quickly. He’s already tearing up, explaining in muffled sobs how apologetic he is, how big of a mistake he’s been making.

“This comebacks’ preparation has been so draining, baby. I needed a breath of fresh air from my life!” His eyes grow swollen at the sight of you, tearing up with nothing but a stone-cold gaze from above him.

He couldn’t force you into complying to his pleasures. The idea of using you for his own wishes made him sick. A few months ago he’d stumbled upon a lesser-known bar with his close friend, who encouraged him inside in order to free his mind.

“I only spent a few nights at that club, was only there because he thought it’d get rid of my stress. I wouldn’t have to think about my career, or be burdened by the responsibilities I have to maintain each day.”

“What, like your responsibilities of being a truthful boyfriend? Your clothes smell like another woman’s perfume Jeonghan.”

The possibilities of where his hands have been, whom his lips might have touched is something that would haunt you for who knows how long, but that sliver of hope in your heart couldn’t help but appreciate his care for you, refraining from using you in any immature way. He’s never thought of you lowly, and never will. It’s why arguments with him are so hard to communicate through. His reasons jumble inside your head until you can’t decide whether to ridicule him, or kiss him senseless. No matter what he’s done, he always manages to make it up to you. A part of you wants to believe that this time he’ll do it again too.

You reach out your hand to him, as he poorly attempts to wipe his tears.

“You’ve have no idea how grateful I am for you, love. Thank you, Thank you with every bone in my body for giving me your hand again.”

You chuckle, extending your fingers out further.

In the last few months you’ve seen less and less of jeonghan, naively trusting his claims that his comeback requires extensive preparations. It’s difficult to understand being in a position such as his, for a demanding, best-selling group of artists require more rehearsals and more attention in order to remain at the very top. You couldn’t imagine the stress he endured, so you never minded when he’d call you late at night, sleepily letting you know of his whereabouts with the other members. You’d always give in, letting him have his freedom if it meant seeing him smile. Though his honesty began to twist from that point on, for less than a month later his colleagues would kindly message you, about him.

Joshua Hong, 12:48am - Sry to bother you, just wanted to make sure Jeonghan got back home safe~

You, 12:50am - He isn’t with you?

Sooner or later, incoming calls from the others would appear, leaving you distraught at the hundreds of thoughts peddling through your mind about your boyfriend’s location.

“We finished rehearsing about an hour ago, like we have for the last five weeks. He told me he was going straight home to you?”

“He isn’t here, but thank you for being honest with me ‘Kwan.”

you bite your lip tensely, bouncing one leg up and down as you sit by your bedroom window. Just the idea of him being in an unsafe situation triggers your mind, though for some reason you can’t let yourself believe this has all been happening unintentionally.

You, 1:12am - Hannie?

You, Imy, are you almost home?

You, 1:15am - idc where you are just tell me you’re ok

~

By morning, your eyes blink open to whisps of hair tickling your shoulder, and an arm tightly clung to your waist. In the moment you want to shake him startled and interrogate him with questions that have kept you up all night. But you wouldn’t dare, instead nudging closer to him in the comfort of his warmth.

But this always happens, by the next morning he finds his way back to you, and you let him off without question. Sooner or later will he even return anymore?

He bids you a gentle farewell for another day of work as you twirl a strand from his perm back into place, softly pecking his cheek before returning to your office. When he shuts the door back into its position, you make a sharp turn for the bathroom, digging through the hamper for any evidence of his travels. Part of you is seeping with noisiness, begging to discover what kind of truths he’s been hiding. Another side of you can’t believe you’d let yourself lose this much trust in him, someone you’ve spent years of memories with.

You pull out his attire from last night, slightly damp from sweating through never-ending dance practices. As you shake off his sweat pants a natural, floral-scented fragrance fills your senses, which has never been your go-to aroma.

Pondering further on your thoughts you place his clothing back into the dirty pile feeling more distressed than before. A small, dark object slips out of his pocket, catching your eye by the sink, and only until after it’s swatted away in a scream do you realize it had only been a false eyelash. Your eyes widen, crouching over its place on the tile floor as your hand covers your gasping mouth.

Never in your life had you touched a pair of false lashes, and your just about positive his members haven’t either.

~

That evening you sit yourself comfortably at the kitchen table, only hiding your growing anxieties from the situation jeonghans brought to your attention.

He enters through the door, lazily kicking off his shoes before making his way over to the leftovers you’d left for him. Sometimes. when he found himself too exhausted, he’ll resist the urge to give you a sign of affection, not wanting to throw his hangriness onto you.

“Do we have any glue, hannie?” you mention.

His eyebrows furrow, doe eyes widening as he turns to you with a chuckle.

“And what would you need glue for sweetheart?”

“How else am I supposed to stick these falsies on?” You question half ignorantly, and watch as all the color drains from his face in an instant.

He rushes to your side, kneeling beside the chair you angrily perched on.

“S-Sweeheart you need to listen to me-“

“What is there to listen to Jeonghan!” You rise from the table, hands fisting around the now-dry pair of lashes before they’re throw towards his face.

In the time you’ve loved Jeonghan, you’ve never seen your boyfriend break down this quickly. He’s already tearing up, explaining in muffled sobs how apologetic he is, how big of a mistake he’s been making.

“This comebacks’ preparation has been so draining, baby. I needed a breath of fresh air from my life!” His eyes grow swollen at the sight of you, tearing up with nothing but a stone-cold gaze from above him.

He couldn’t force you into complying to his pleasures. The idea of using you for his own wishes made him sick. A few months ago he’d stumbled upon a lesser-known bar with his close friend, who encouraged him inside in order to free his mind.

“I only spent a few nights at that club, was only there because he thought it’d get rid of my stress. I wouldn’t have to think about my career, or be burdened by the responsibilities I have to maintain each day.”

“What, like your responsibilities of being a truthful boyfriend? Your clothes smell like another woman’s perfume Jeonghan.”

The possibilities of where his hands have been, whom his lips might have touched is something that would haunt you for who knows how long, but that sliver of hope in your heart couldn’t help but appreciate his care for you, refraining from using you in any immature way. He’s never thought of you lowly, and never will. It’s why arguments with him are so hard to communicate through. His reasons jumble inside your head until you can’t decide whether to ridicule him, or kiss him senseless. No matter what he’s done, he always manages to make it up to you. A part of you wants to believe that this time he’ll do it again too.

You reach out your hand to him, as he poorly attempts to wipe his tears.

“You’ve have no idea how grateful I am for you, love. Thank you, Thank you with every bone in my body for giving me your hand again.”

You chuckle, extending your fingers out further.