𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲, 𝐭𝐨𝐨?
pairing. txt soobin x fmreader warnings. angst, unrequited love, one-shot 4,5 words
The practice room smelled of warm wood and sweat.
The last ones to leave were always the same. Taehyun packing up his things. Yeonjun turning off some lights, while Hueningkai and Beomgyu chatted.
I stuffed some loose items into my bag.
—Finally, it’s over…
—So dramatic.
I didn’t even look up.
—You’re still here too.
—Because someone forgot their bottle.
Soobin lifted it with two fingers before setting it down beside him.
—Thanks.
He just shrugged.
It was strange. They always ended up being the last two without ever planning it.
When we left the building, the sky was still tinted orange, but the first lights in the houses were already turning on. The heat still clung to our clothes, though a warm breeze had started to move the trees.
—I’ll walk you home.
It wasn’t a question. It never was.
We walked slowly.
I talked more. He answered with short or long sentences. Sometimes with a tease. Sometimes with a simple “yeah” or an “mhm.”
And yet…
It was my favorite part of the day.
It’s funny, because I don’t remember when I started feeling this way.
Maybe it was one of those walks back.
Maybe just another practice.
Or the first time he waited for me to finish packing my things so we could walk together.
I didn’t know.
All I knew was that one day, it stopped being just a habit and started to mean something.
—What are you thinking about?
Soobin’s voice made me jump.
—Nothing. — I lied.
He let out a barely audible laugh. —I can tell
We kept walking. Even though there was a lot of silence, it had never felt uncomfortable between us.
And I came to believe that meant something.
That two people who could stay quiet without feeling lonely… were destined to understand each other.
How naive I had been.
We arrived at the building where I lived.
It wasn’t late—just that summer hour when the sky still holds a bit of light even though the day has ended.
I rested a hand on the railing at the entrance, unable to go in, go upstairs, and say “thanks” like every other day. Or I could wait for another afternoon like this one, but for weeks I had felt like I couldn’t keep living inside the waiting anymore.
—Soobin.
—Hm? — He was still looking at the street, as if he wasn’t expecting anything important.
I breathed in.
I was ready.
I had been ready for a long time.
Ready to stop imagining.
Ready to be happy.
Ready for that long gaze that would never need to end.
—Did you ever think that… maybe we could…? — I didn’t finish the sentence. But he understood it, because for the first time since I’d known him, Soobin took too long to respond.
He lowered his gaze.
Then raised it again.
He didn’t look uncomfortable.
Just… surprised.
—___…
That was the moment, the exact second I realized I had arrived alone.
There was no need to hear the rest.
He wasn’t rejecting me, nor was he accepting me.
He simply… had never been where I was. He had never looked down that path, and that hurt in a much quieter way.
—I’m sorry. — He said those two words with sincerity.
As if he truly regretted not being able to give me the answer I hoped for.
I smiled, a small but very tired smile.
—You don’t have to apologize. — Because it was true. He hadn’t done anything wrong. No one had.
The summer kept breathing around us.
A bicycle passed by on the street.
Someone laughed from a balcony.
The lights of a train moved in the distance.
Everything continued exactly the same.
Only the two of us had changed.
—I guess this was just a ‘almost’, — I said, almost laughing at myself.
He frowned slightly. —What?
—Nothing. — I looked at him one last time. Not trying to memorize his face or hoping he would stop me—just looking at him with the calm that comes when an answer hurts less than the uncertainty did.
— Good night, Soob.
He answered a few seconds later. —Good night, ___.
I went up the stairs without turning back, and he stayed downstairs for a moment longer, staring at the door I had just disappeared through, as if only then he started to wonder what I had really meant.
But I was no longer there to answer him.
I don’t know if tomorrow we’ll walk home together again.
I don’t know if one day he’ll understand that conversation.
I also don’t know if, at another point in our lives, we’ll both be in the same place at the same time.
All I know is that I stopped waiting for that answer.
Because some stories don’t end when someone stops loving.
They end when you stop wondering if the other person was ever ready.
