Voracious appetite for fangirling and reblogging.

𐚁₊⊹

▎27 NOVEMBER 2021

You were known to have the patience of a saint. It was an almost uncanny ability you had to stay calm in situations that would push most people past their limits. Some admired you for it, even envied you.

“I could never hold my tongue like that,” or “I’d have snapped ages ago” they’d say.

But others didn’t see it as a strength though. They said you were too lenient, or too soft. They’d say how it allowed people to walk all over you and mistake your tolerance for weakness.

And maybe, sometimes, they were right.

There were moments when you looked back on situations and questioned your silence. You would wonder if your refusal to speak out had cost you something. Respect, peace of mind or justice. You would pride yourself on not reacting impulsively and staying level-headed when emotions ran high. You told yourself that staying silent was strength and not cowardice.

But deep down, there were times you wished you had the confidence to just say what you were thinking. Perhaps not out of anger, but out of self-respect. You weren’t looking to lash out, you just wanted to be heard.

There was never really a middle ground in how people saw you. But the truth is, you lived in that gray area. You tried to be kind without being small, and tolerant without being invisible.

And today was your breaking point.

Angry tears welled in your eyes as you stared at your phone for what felt like the hundredth time. Still nothing from your boyfriend. There were no messages or any missed calls, let alone an excuse as to why he still didn’t show up yet. Just the same empty lock screen that mocked your patience.

Hansol promised to take you out for a fancy dinner at the Lotte Tower, a proper date you were both too busy to have for weeks. You even made the effort of dressing up for it. You did your hair just right, applied light make-up and sprayed the perfume he once said he liked. But now, an hour passed, and you were still sitting alone at the table he claimed to have reserved.

You felt so ridiculous.

The waiters approached your table several times and each gentle interruption only deepened the pit in your stomach. They asked politely if you’d like something to drink, perhaps a small starter while you waited. But you would smile tightly each time and shake your head while repeating the same line, “I’ll wait until my boyfriend arrives.”

That was only if he came.

It felt more like a lie each time you said it. A part of you held on to the hope that he’d walk in, flustered and apologetic. But with every minute that passed by, that hope thinned into bitterness.

The staff tried to hide their sympathy, but you saw it anyway. The last thing you wanted was anyone’s pity.

Not only were you overwhelmed with embarrassment, but the sting hurt deeper knowing it was your own boyfriend who left you hanging. While other couples around you enjoyed their meals together and how happily they laughed amongst themselves, you couldn’t help but feel like a complete fool who still waited for someone that wasn’t even going to come.

And if the night didn’t humiliate you enough, you opened Instagram. Just to distract yourself. And that was when you clicked on Hailey’s story, Hansol’s best friend. It was posted five minutes ago.

It was a photo of your boyfriend who was fast asleep on Hailey’s unmistakable pink sofa, body curled slightly and one arm wrapped around a purple whale plushie. His hair was a mess and his mouth was slightly open, completely at peace.

But what really hit you wasn’t the image itself. It was the caption. “Supposed to be looking after me but I’m looking after him instead,” followed by a deadpan, unamused emoji. Like it was some kind of joke. Like you weren’t sitting in a restaurant across town, checking the door every five minutes, still half-believing he might walk in with an excuse.

Instead, he was passed out at her house. It wasn’t even the lack of decency from him to let you know he couldn’t make it that stung the most. It was how casual it all seemed to them.

To say you were absolutely livid would be a gross understatement.

You weren’t just angry, you were shaking with it. It was a white-hot rage bubbling just beneath your skin that was ready to explode within you.

Your jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt, and your heart pounded against your ribs like it was trying to escape. Every breath you took felt shallow, that made your chest tight with disbelief. You were boiling down to the core, like a volcano seconds from erupting.

It blurred your vision and made your ears ring.

Your hand gripped your phone with so much force, it was a miracle the screen didn’t shatter right there in your palm. You swore you heard a small crack, but perhaps it was the plastic or glass protesting under the pressure of your clenched fingers. But you didn’t loosen your grip. You couldn’t. Because letting go felt too much like surrender, and right now, you were clinging to any scrap of control you had left.

The tears that were brimming in your eyes finally came flooding down. You tried to blink them away, but it was no use. They kept spilling over, trailing down your cheeks in silence. And you didn’t even bother wiping them. You didn’t care at this point. You just let them fall. You just let the whole damn restaurant see. What did it matter now?

Your eyes were still stuck on the photo. And her caption…the smug nonchalance of it was enough to make your blood run colder than the North Pole. She knew. She had to know. And if she didn’t, then maybe that made it worse.

Your body was trembling. Every limb of yours was buzzing with energy that had nowhere to go. You felt like you could scream, throw the table across the room, or smash your phone right into the tiled floor.

But you didn’t. You just sat there, paralysed, like a statue made of nothing but anger and heartbreak.

Everything around you became a blur. It all faded into background noise, meaningless against the storm inside you. You were breaking, right there in public, and yet the world just kept turning.

You were furious. But more than that, you were hurt. Deeply and irreparably hurt.

So what do you do now? Honestly, you had no idea.

Your brain was still catching up to everything your heart had just been dragged through. But your body moved on its own, like it was acting on instinct. There was no plan, no thought. Just motion.

You reached into your purse with shaky fingers, pulled out a few bills, and placed them on the table beside your untouched mocktail.

It wasn’t much, but it felt like the least you could do. It was a silent gesture to thank and apologise to the staff for the time you’d taken up sitting there alone waiting for someone who never came.

Without a word, you pushed the chair back and stood. Your legs felt numb and heavy, but you forced them to move. You didn’t look at anyone. You didn’t owe anyone an explanation. All you could do was storm out, heart thudding in your chest like a war drum.

The atmosphere in the elevator felt suffocating as it descended, and the mirrors reflected the tear-streaked version of you that you didn’t want to see. You simply stared straight ahead, refusing to blink.

Then, as the doors slid open and you stepped into the lobby, your phone buzzed with a notification. The sound shot through you like a jolt. Part of you hoped that it was Hansol, but it wasn’t, it was your older brother Joshua.

[JOSH]:

Are you done with your little date? Mum’s bugging me to get her tangerines but I’m too lazy to go out now😴

The message lit up your screen as you walked through the quiet lobby. You stared at the notification for a few seconds, and the absurdity of it made your lips twitch. Despite the ache sitting heavy in your chest, you broke into a small, crooked smile through the tears still clinging to your lashes.

Your mother and her eternal obsession with tangerines. No matter the season, no matter the day, she somehow always needed more. It was ridiculous. But comforting in her sense.

[YOU]:

Got stood up. But I’ll pick some up on my way👍tell mum to tolerate her cravings for a bit lol.

You hit send before you could think twice about how blunt it sounded. And the reply from your brother came almost instantly.

[Josh]:

???

[Josh]:

What do you mean you got stood up?

You stared at the screen. The question felt like salt in a raw wound. Reading his name again hurt more than you expected. You could practically hear the disbelief in Joshua’s voice, like he couldn’t even begin to process the idea.

And honestly? You couldn’t either.

Your thumb hovered over the keyboard. You thought about explaining. But it all was too much. You didn’t want to relive it, not right now. You didn’t want to see the pity, or the anger, or the judgment — not even from your brother.

So instead, you just turned off your phone and shoved it deep into your coat pocket. Maybe silence felt easier than trying to explain heartbreak.

╴╴╴╴╴

You regretted not bringing your car. Deeply. At the time, it seemed like the better option. You thought you’d have Hansol to drop you home. But now, walking alone in the cold with swollen eyes and a heart that felt like it had been wrung out, it was painfully clear that you miscalculated.

It wasn’t that you didn’t have options. You could’ve taken the bus, hopped on the subway, or even called a taxi. But the idea of crying in a crowded space full of strangers while your eyes burned and your chest ached? You couldn't do it. You didn’t want sympathetic looks or awkward glances. You didn’t want to be seen at all.

You didn’t trust yourself to hold it together. Not when every second of silence from Hansol felt like another shove deeper into the hollow pit growing in your stomach.

There was still not a single message. Not one missed call. Not even a lame excuse.

You stood outside a brightly lit convenience store as you held the weight of a full bag of tangerines which was dragging at your arm. Your fingers were freezing around the plastic handles, but you didn’t care.

With a sigh, you fumbled for your phone again and dialed Joshua’s number. You knew he didn’t want to come out.

He’d said as much earlier, “too lazy” and too comfortable, typical Joshua. But you were going to make him come anyway. He didn’t get a choice. Not tonight.

After a few rings, he finally answered.

“Can you pick me up?” you asked tiredly and almost bluntly, not even giving him a chance to greet you first.

There was a beat of silence on the other end before your brother spoke up.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You could hear the worry in his voice, and it cracked something in you.

You bit down on your lip, hard, before answering. “Yeah, I just…I don’t know Joshua,” you said, your voice starting to waver despite your efforts to stay composed.

There was another pause. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head, and him grabbing his keys already.

“Can you please come and get me?” you whispered, softer this time. Less demand, more desperation.

“I’m coming,” he said firmly. “Where are you right now?” he then asked.

You shared your live location with him and he muttered a hum before ending the call. And for the first time that night, you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding.

You knew he didn’t want to come out, and on normal days you wouldn’t have bothered him. But right now, there was no one else in the world you needed more than your brother.

Growing up, you and Joshua had always been close. Closer than most siblings, even. Even as kids, you stuck to each other like glue. While other siblings grew apart or bickered over everything all the time, the two of you built your own little world. He was your best friend, and above all, he was your safe place.

Joshua always knew how sensitive you were. He knew despite how tolerant you were, you’d easily get hurt and how deeply you felt things. And while some people might have dismissed that as weakness, he never did. If anything, it made him more protective of you. He knew the world wasn’t kind to people with soft hearts. So he became your shield.

He became some sort of your silent, stubborn bodyguard who would take on the world if it meant keeping you from crying.

You used to tease him about it. Told him he was too overbearing, that he needed to chill out and stop treating you like you were five. He’d just smirk and say, “You’ll thank me one day.” And truthfully, you always did.

Even when he annoyed you, when he pushed your buttons just for fun or gave you dumb nicknames you swore you hated, you never once doubted that he’d be there when it mattered. No matter how big or small the problem was, you could always run to him. He never made you feel like a burden.

And in this moment, with your heart aching and your hands full of tangerines, you were more grateful than ever to have a brother like him in your life.

╴╴╴╴╴

You hadn’t even realised Joshua had arrived until he was suddenly in front of you, gently shaking your shoulder. Not only had the cold numbed your senses, but your mind was too fogged to register anything clearly. You jolted slightly at the contact, eyes wide with confusion until they finally focused and landed on your brother.

“Hi,” he said softly, a little breathless. But the small smile he attempted didn’t last as his face fell. He took in the sight of you and his brows knitted together.

Your eyes were red-rimmed and glossy, cheeks streaked with dried tears, but what stood out the most too him was the lack of spark that usually lived in your eyes. They were simply hollow.

Joshua’s chest tightened as panic crept in. Your breathing was shallow and too quick. Your eyes were wide and glassy, brimming with fresh tears that threatened to spill over.

You looked like a balloon stretched too tight and ready to burst.

“Bubba, what’s wrong?” he asked as his hands moved up to cradle your face gently. His thumbs hovered under your eyes like he could stop the tears before they fell, but it was already too late.

Just the sound of that nickname that only he called you hit you like a wrecking ball. And it was just enough to break you completely.

A choked sob tore from your throat as you collapsed into his chest. His arms were open before you even reached him, wrapping around you and catching everything you couldn’t hold together anymore.

Joshua’s heart pounded hard beneath your cheek as he pulled you close, his hand rubbing circles on your back. You gripped his hoodie like your life depended on it as tears soaked into the fabric almost instantly.

“Hey, hey hey,” he murmured, rocking you gently.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you, okay?”

But your cries only grew louder and heavier.

“Is this about Hansol?” he asked. Though his voice was still soft, the way his jaw was tightening ever so slightly spoke another story.

You didn’t answer him. You just cried harder as your sobs violently shook your whole body.

“I just want to go home,” you choked out between sobs.

Joshua pulled you into a tighter hug and held you like he could somehow absorb the pain radiating from your body. He rested his chin lightly on top of your head and gently rocked you side to side.

“Shh, it’s okay. We’re going home now,” he murmured into your hair low and soothingly, almost fatherly. His hand rubbed slow circles on your back, like he used to do when you were a kid waking up from the nightmares you had.

Though he didn’t need the full story, at least not yet, he knew enough.

The past few days didn’t feel right. You hadn’t been yourself. You smiled less and conversations were shorter. Joshua noticed how you started spacing out more often, zoning out during family dinners or giving half-hearted responses when he cracked jokes.

You were still there, but the dimmed version of yourself, like a light on low battery.

He had a gut feeling Hansol had something to do with it, but he didn’t want to jump to conclusions. Now, standing here with you crying your eyes out in his arms, he wished he had trusted that instinct sooner.

He felt guilty. He wished he had asked more questions, pressed you harder when you told him everything was “fine.” He should’ve protected you before you reached this point. Because seeing you like this right now lit something violent inside him.

╴╴╴╴╴

When Joshua finally pulled into the driveway, the sky had long since darkened. He looked to his right and found you fast asleep in the passenger seat with your head tilted awkwardly against the window. The position looked anything but comfortable, yet you didn’t stir.

Joshua’s heart ached as he took in the dried streaks of tears on your cheeks, clear that you cried yourself to sleep in silence.

He didn’t miss the way you’d shut down during the drive home and how you gave no responses, not even small nods or mumbled agreements. He tried to talk, or at least distract you with light conversation with jokes that usually earned at least a small smile. But you gave him nothing this time.

He knew you didn’t mean it. You just wanted to be left alone, and so he did. But not really, because he was still there, watching every tremble in your breath and every clench of your fingers. He was still there as he silently stayed present even when you needed distance.

With a soft sigh, Joshua parked the car and turned off the engine. The sudden quiet that followed was too loud. He sat there for a moment, just looking at you. Then, without a word, he unbuckled his seatbelt before stepping out and walking around to your side.

He opened the door and carefully unbuckled your seatbelt before sliding his arms under your knees and back. Unironically, he felt like his seven-year-old self again holding you in his arms for the first time when you were born. He lifted you and held you gently as if you were made of glass. Your body relaxed into his hold, head resting against his shoulder.

He shut the car door with a soft kick before heading to the house. And as if timed perfectly, the front door opened.

Your mother stood there with her expression instantly shifting to concern at the sight of you in Joshua’s arms. “Is she okay?” she asked, eyes locked on your sleeping face.

Joshua let out another sigh. “I don’t think so. She had a long night” he answered tiredly.

He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t want to dump everything on her, especially when you weren’t awake to speak for yourself. All she needed to know was that you were safe, and he had you.

“I’m just going to let her rest for now,” he added, stepping past her and making his way upstairs.

He brought you into your room and gently lowered you onto the bed, careful not to jostle you. But barely moved regardless. He took off your shoes, then your coat which he folded neatly to the side.

He crouched down beside the bed and reached out, brushing your hair from your face. His thumb lingered at your temple for a moment. Then, with a tenderness that said more than words ever could, he leaned forward and placed a light kiss on your forehead.

As he straightened up, he looked at you for a long moment. You looked peaceful, but the mark that was left by the pain you carried was still there.

“If Hansol did something,” he thought, jaw tightening, “I swear I’m going to rip his head off” he silently promised.

After making sure you were tucked in comfortably, Joshua gently pulled your blanket up to your shoulders. He stood there for a second longer, just watching you sleep.

With a quiet exhale, he turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him with care. As it clicked softly, he sighed, again.

Heading back downstairs, he slipped his shoes back on and stripped outside again. The cold outside nipped at his skin, but he ignored it as he made his way back to the car. He opened the door and grabbed your small shoulder bag, along with the now slightly squashed plastic bag filled with tangerines you got for your mother.

There were a series of vibrations coming from your bag that made Joshua freeze, then frown. One vibration. Then another. And another. The sharp buzzing continued almost nonstop.

He unzipped the bag and pulled the phone out. Joshua cursed under his breath for remembering your phone’s password to unlock it, but he promised himself it wasn’t snooping. He had to make sure nothing was wrong.

The screen lit up with message after message from one name only.

Hansol.

His frown deepened. There were fifteen missed calls and tons of messages, some that were still coming through as he watched.

[Hansol]:

Baby!

[Hansol]:

Please answer me

[Hansol]:

Fuck, I’m so sorry I completely forgot. I know how bad that sounds, but please let me explain

[Hansol]:

Hailey sprained her ankle at work. She called me crying, saying she couldn’t walk or get a ride, and she didn’t know who else to call. So I left to go get her

[Hansol]:

She was in a lot of pain, and I couldn’t just leave her there so I took her to the doctors. I had to get her meds and ice packs and whatnot before helping her get back to her apartment

[Hansol]:

I know I should’ve messaged you. I should’ve called you right away. I just got caught up making sure she was okay and I didn’t check the time until it was already too late

[Hansol]:

Baby, I know what this looks like. I know how it feels. And I know I’ve let you down before, but I didn’t do this on purpose. I didn’t forget about you because I didn’t care. I was just trying to help my best friend in pain

[Hansol]:

But I swear to you, I wasn’t ignoring you

[Hansol]:

I know I told you this time would be different. That I would make more time for. And I wanted to, I swear I did

Joshua saw another incoming call flash across the screen with Hansol’s name lighting up yet again. He stared at it for a moment with his jaw clenched as his thumb hovering over the answer button. He really fought to answer it and curse him out, but he didn’t want to act out of instinct. So, instead, he pressed decline.

But that only led to more messages to flood in. One after another. Clearly Hansol wasn’t letting up. He was frantic at this point.

[Hansol]:

Shit, baby, listen. I know you saw Hailey’s Instagram story, but I promise it’s not what you think

[Hansol]:

It’s nothing like what you’re probably imagining right now. Please don’t overthink it

[Hansol]:

I swear

Joshua’s frown deepened. A low breath escaped his nose. What the hell is he talking about now? He hadn’t seen any story. But the way Hansol rushed to mention it, defend it even, somehow made him rile up even more.

Curious, and now increasingly irritated, Joshua unlocked your phone again and opened your Instagram. And a few taps later, he clicked on Hailey’s story.

Joshua stared at the screen as he tried to process what he was seeing. His lips curled into a slow, humorless scoff. He shook his head in absolute disbelief.

The audacity.

You were sitting in a restaurant, alone, trying not to cry in front of strangers. Meanwhile, your boyfriend was passed out at another woman’s place like he couldn’t be bothered to show up for you.

Before he could even react further, more messages came in.

[Hansol]:

I don’t know when I fell asleep. I didn’t mean to forget, I swear

[Hansol]:

Are you still at the restaurant? Just tell me and I’ll come right now. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Five if I speed. Please

[Hansol]:

Or if you already went home, just text me so I know you’re safe. I’m begging you baby

[Hansol]:

I’m so fucking sorry

[Hansol]:

Please pick up the phone baby. Just talk to me

Joshua watched as the screen lit up again with another incoming call. But he didn’t answer. He just stared at it with a dark expression. His thumb hovered for half a second before he declined it once more, and put the phone back in your bag.

The sheer nerve. The desperation wasn’t what got to him, it was the timing. The panic only came after the damage was done. After you’d already shut down. After your brother had to come find you and carry you home.

Joshua slammed his car door shut and made his way back inside the house. With his jaw locked so tight, he could feel his pulse thumping in his neck.

Joshua knew, deep down, that this was a personal matter between you and your boyfriend. Something that should be handled between the two of you. He didn’t want to cross boundaries or get too involved in something he didn’t fully understand. That simply wasn’t his style, and he certainly wasn’t overbearing. He respected your independence.

But after today, especially after the way you completely broke down in his arms, Joshua couldn’t keep pretending like everything was fine when it wasn’t.

It was damn near impossible to hold himself back. He didn’t want to sit on the sidelines anymore. He needed answers. He needed to know what the hell was happening to you and why the sister he knew was suddenly closing herself up.

╴╴╴╴╴

The moment Hansol blinked awake from what he thought would be a ‘short nap’, his eyes drifted lazily to the clock. Until the time hit him like a punch to the chest. His eyes widened in shock, practically bulging from their sockets as the time sank in.

It was the realisation that it was two hours past the time he was supposed to meet you which made his heart stop.

His body reacted before his brain could even catch up. He bolted upright so fast that the plushie in his arms fell to the floor. His mind scrambled in complete chaos as he reached for his phone, which he nearly dropped in his haste.

The screen lit up with five unread messages and two missed calls, all from you, two hours ago.

“Fuck,” he cursed, as guilt hit him like a truck.

He remembered. Of course he did. He remembered every word of the argument, the conversation afterwards where he promised he wouldn’t mess this one up this time.

But somehow he had.

And now he didn’t know how to fix it this time.

▎25 NOVEMBER 2021 — two days ago

“What could have been so important this time that you had to cancel on me again, Hansol?” you snapped.

You weren’t usually the one to raise your voice or start fights. You were patient and understanding. Maybe a little too understanding.

This was the fifth broken promise in two weeks. The times you got ready for something he planned, you’d sit and wait until your phone lit up with another last-minute excuse.

And this time, you were done pretending it didn’t rile you up.

Hansol blinked, already on the defensive. “Babe, you know I’m not doing this on purpose. It’s just that Hailey—”

You cut him off instantly with a scoff, head shaking like you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. But deep down, you did. You expected it. Of course it was Hailey.

“Hailey this, Hailey that,” you snarled as your eyes narrowed. “It’s always her.”

Hansol flinched a little at your tone, but you kept going. The anger that had been simmering under the surface was breaking through.

“When does she ever not need you? It’s comical how she always seems to need something when you’re with me. Does she not have any other fucking friends besides you? Huh?”

You took a breath, but it didn’t cool the fire.

“Why do you always jump to her side over every little thing? Is she really that helpless? Is she that dumb and incapable of doing anything on her own, Hansol?”

You couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. This wasn’t you, because you weren’t the type to talk about people like that.

You didn’t even realise how harsh the words were until they already came out. They sounded bitter and personal. And maybe they were. Because you weren’t just angry at Hailey. You were angry at your own boyfriend for putting her before you. Again.

Hansol didn’t respond right away, but when he did, his voice was just as sharp as yours.

“She’s my best friend, Y/n,” he snapped back. “I’ve known her for years. Of course I’m going to be there for her if she needs me.”

“I know that!” you couldn’t help but raise your voice as the frustration boiled over.

“And I’ve always respected the fact that you guys are close. I know you’ve known her longer than me. I know she’s important to you.”

Hansol opened his mouth to speak, but you kept going.

“And trust me, the last thing I’ve ever wanted to do is come between you and your friendship with her” you said.

“But what about me?” The question itself was small, but held so much weight.

“What about me, Hansol?” you repeated, quieter this time as your voice trembled. The sting behind your eyes was impossible to ignore now as tears threatened to fall.

You hated arguing with him, but it had been weeks since you were being sidelined or brushed off. All over someone who you could guarantee could take care of herself without needing your boyfriend all the time.

“What if I need you just as much as she does?” you asked, your voice cracking as the tears finally escaped.

“Why is it that her needs always come before mine? Why can’t you choose me just once instead of her?”

Hansol stood there, frozen. He looked at you with a mix of confusion and worry, but he didn’t speak. His silence only hurt more.

You took a shaky breath and tried to compose yourself even as everything inside you wanted to scream. He looked at you like he didn’t understand, and that made your heart sink.

“Y/n…” he finally said, hesitantly stepping towards you.

“Where is this coming from?” he asked with a calm but cautious tone, like he was trying not to set you off further.

You broke eye contact and looked down. You didn’t even know where to begin. How do you explain the slow burn of feeling like a second choice? How do you measure all the little moments where you smiled and swallowed your disappointment just to keep the peace?

“I just…” you trailed off.

“I just want to feel like I matter to you the way she does.”

“But you do matter to me baby” he tried to assure you.

You looked back up at him, with a mocking smile. The ache in your chest was too big to hide.

“I know I do. But I’m getting tired Hansol” you whispered. “I’m tired of being treated like I’m always second place.”

“Call me jealous. Call me insecure. I don’t care anymore,” you continued, blinking back the rest of your tears.

“But I’m your girlfriend for god’s sake. I should feel like your girlfriend” your voice broke completely then.

“I get that she’s your best friend. I get it. And I get that you care about her. But there’s a line, Hansol. There has to be a line, right?”

You then let out a shaky breath.

“And when I have to fight for your attention, when I have to constantly wonder if I’m even a priority to you, that’s not a relationship. That’s loneliness with a title.”

Hansol’s heart dropped. It was like the floor beneath him gave way and he was free-falling. Your words replayed in his head on a loop, and the more they sank in, the heavier the guilt became.

He realised that he didn’t just hurt you by accident, he neglected you without even thinking. And that realisation alone made his stomach turn.

He couldn’t believe this was all brewing inside you. That you felt so alone and pushed aside for so long. And he didn’t notice. Or worse, he already noticed little things but brushed them off thinking you’d be fine.

He thought your love was unshakable enough to withstand being constantly sidelined. But how stupidly and utterly wrong he was.

He exhaled a shaky breath, his chest rising and falling too fast as he took a step forward and gently took your hands in his. Your fingers were cold and shaking slightly in his grasp.

He hated that. He hated that he made you feel this way.

He pulled you closer until your chest rested lightly against his. You didn’t resist, but you didn’t lean in either. You just stood there quietly sniffling while your eyes cast to the floor.

His hands moved slowly, almost hesitantly, up to cup your face. His thumbs brushed along your cheeks, catching the fresh tears rolling down your skin. Your lips were quivering and your jaw was tight, like you were still trying to hold back everything that wanted to break free.

“Baby,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Please look at me.”

You sniffled again, and your eyes flickered up to meet his.

“I didn’t know,” he said softly, barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t know you felt this way. And I hate that I had to hear it like this, for it to reach this point and for me to finally listen.”

He paused and drew in a breath to steady himself, but it didn’t help. “I thought I was being good to you. I thought you knew how much I loved you. But love isn’t just words, is it? It’s what I do. And I haven’t been showing it. Not in the way you deserve.”

You closed your eyes, biting down hard on your lip.

“I kept running to Hailey because I told myself she needed help. Because I thought you’d understand. And every time I did, I told myself you were okay and that you’d wait. That you knew how important you were to me. But I wasn’t showing you. I was showing you the opposite.”

His voice wavered. “I made you feel second. And that’s the last thing you ever should’ve felt.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out. Your throat felt constricted.

“I’m so sorry baby” Hansol whispered as his forehead lowered until it touched yours.

“I’m sorry I made you feel small. I’m sorry I made you feel like your feelings didn’t matter. I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t my priority. Because trust me baby, you are. You always have been, and I was just too blind to prove it.”

A tear rolled down his cheek now, but he didn’t care.

“I’ll do better, I promise” he said, and pulled you just a little closer.

“I love you.”

Hansol stared at his phone and the endless row of his unanswered messages and ignored calls. He stared down at it like it might suddenly light up with your name. The dozen attempts to reach out to you were simply left up in the air.

There was not a single read receipt. Not even the little “typing…” bubble that always gave him a sliver of hope when you both argued in the past.

And that was what scared him the most.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging it back in frustration before gripping the back of his neck. His skin was clammy and his heartbeat was a deafening thud in his ears. The anxiety gripping his chest was unlike anything he ever felt before. It wasn’t stress. It wasn’t him being overdramatic.

This was fear. Total, haunting fear.

Because this wasn’t like you. You weren’t the type to shut him out. Sure, you’d argue and get upset. But you were never the type to just disappear into silence without at least letting him know you needed time.

You’d always give him some sort of a signal or reassurance that as angry or hurt as you might be, you hadn't walked away completely.

But this time, there was nothing. Not a single word.

And this complete void scared the hell out of him.

What if something had happened? What if you were too hurt to want anything to do with him anymore?

He couldn’t sit still as these thoughts ran wild in his head.

Hansol shot up from the couch and grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair with more force than necessary. His movements were quick and clumsy as he tried to hurry. He barely even noticed Hailey watching him from the living room with confusion written all over her face.

She furrowed her brows. “Hansol? Where are you going? Why are you so— what’s going on?”

“I don’t have time to explain. I have to go,” he said firmly, not even sparing her a glance as he shoved his feet into his shoes.

“Is this about—” she started again, but he cut her off.

“Just— take care, okay?” he said over his shoulder while already halfway to the front door.

He grabbed his car keys off the counter and flung the door open before dashing out.

He didn’t mean to be cold or dismissive, really, but at that moment, there was only one thing, one person, on his mind.

You.

Everything else blurred into background noise. Because if there was even the slightest chance that you were hurting alone, especially because of him, he wasn’t going to waste another second standing still.

He just hoped he wasn’t already too late.

╴╴╴╴╴

Hansol didn’t know if he parked the car straight, if it was even on the driveway, or if he left the engine running. He didn’t care. None of it mattered compared to the mess in his head. What mattered was finding you and fixing things somehow.

He already knew you wouldn’t be at your shared apartment. That would’ve been too easy, because you never stayed there when you were upset, especially not after a blow-up. He knew your patterns too well, when things went south, you always ran to your brother. Joshua was your safe place. Hansol had banked on that instinct.

He slammed the car door shut hard enough to rattle the windows and jogged across the dark, quiet street to your house. All the lights were off, but it didn’t stop him. His fingers hovered over his phone, itching to text you again, but instead, he rang the doorbell.

Once. Nothing.

Twice. Still nothing.

On the third ring, a hallway light turned on. Hansol felt his stomach tighten. The front door swung open with force, revealing Joshua, shirt rumpled, hair a mess and eyes blazing with fury.

“What the fuck do you want Hansol?” he growled. Hansol’s mouth went dry, and swallowed the thick lump in his throat.

“Is Y/n here? I need to see her,” he said quickly, his voice cracking at the end.

Joshua’s expression didn’t change. If anything, it grew colder. His body stiffened like he was preparing for a fight, but instead of throwing a punch out of instinct, he let out a humorless laugh.

“If she is, what makes you think I’ll let you meet her?” he said, every word laced with venom.

Hansol opened his mouth but nothing came out. If Joshua knew even half of what happened, he was screwed. Completely screwed. Seeing you would be next to impossible with your brother standing in the way like a wall of fire.

“Go home Hansol,” Joshua snapped, stepping forward.

“Before I break your fucking nose. After the shit you pulled? You think I’ll let you anywhere near my sister? You’re not even gonna breathe in her direction.”

Hansol stood frozen. His heart was thundering, while guilt ate him alive. He had no plan nor backup. Only one truth, that he needed to see you. But Joshua already made it clear.

He wasn’t getting through that door.

At this point, all Hansol could do was beg. He looked like a mess with his hair disheveled, eyes red and guilt sitting heavy in his chest like bricks. He dropped his head, fists clenched at his sides and jaw tight with frustration. Whatever pride he had shattered the moment he saw Joshua’s face.

He wasn’t here to win a fight, he was here to fight for you.

“I didn’t do it on purpose, okay?” he said almost urgently, finally lifting his eyes to meet Joshua’s glare.

“I’m already beating myself up over this. I know I couldn’t keep my promise to her, and yeah, that wrecks me. But I didn’t flake on her just to hurt her. I was helping my friend out. And I…I lost track of the time. That’s it,” Hansol explained while his voice cracked slightly.

He then paused with his chest heaving.

He took a shaky breath and added, “you know how much I love her—”

Joshua didn’t let him finish. “Yeah, clearly,” he snapped, voice dripping with sarcasm.

The words stung more than they should have, but Hansol bit down his anger and cursed under his breath. Getting defensive wouldn’t help now. Not when he was already on thin ice.

“I just…I just want her to know I didn’t mean to keep her waiting,” he said, his voice growing smaller with every word.

“I want to apologise. She deserves that. She deserves the truth, not this tension and silence between us. I hate that I hurt her, even by accident.”

He looked at Joshua again, but this time there was no fire in his eyes. Just defeat.

“I won’t be able to sleep tonight knowing she probably hates me. I need to explain, even if she doesn’t forgive me,” he whispered. “I need to talk to her. I need her to know she still means everything to me.”

His voice cracked as he finished, barely able to breathe through the tight knot in his throat. “I don’t want to lose her, Joshua. Please. I don’t want to lose her.”

Joshua stood in silence. His anger wasn’t completely gone, but it was slowly simmering down into something else. He stared at Hansol, who looked like he was unraveling at the seams.

Joshua hated how familiar it felt. He hated that he could see the sincerity in Hansol’s misery. The guy looked wrecked. And as much as Joshua wanted to keep holding on to the fury, to slam the door in his face and make him pay, something in him hesitated. Because it was clear now, Hansol wasn’t here to make excuses. He was here to bleed if that’s what it took to make things right.

Joshua let out a long breath. His hand gripped the edge of the door tighter as he stared at the ground. And when he finally looked up again, his eyes met Hansol’s, and for a moment neither of them spoke.

Then Joshua huffed, eyes narrowing. “She’s sleeping right now, come back tomorrow” he said firmly.

Hansol opened his mouth, but Joshua held up his hand. “Don’t push it,” he warned.

He took a step back to leave just enough space to breathe. The tension didn’t disappear, just changed shape.

“But I’m telling you this now. I can’t promise anything, Hansol,” Joshua said. “You showing up, saying sorry, hoping to fix things, that’s not up to me. Whatever happens next, it’s Y/n’s call. Hundred percent. If she tells me she never wants to see you again, then that’s it. You’ll have to live with that.”

He paused as his voice dropped lower.

“And I’ll stand by her no matter what she decides. Because she has every right to be upset. Every right to not forgive you. You hurt her.”

Joshua took one last glance at Hansol, at the guilt and desperation, before gently closing the door between them.

▎28 NOVEMBER 2021

It was nine in the morning, and Hansol barely managed three hours of restless and broken sleep. The rest of the night was a torture as he tossed and turned in his bed that he normally shared with you, mind plagued with guilt.

He tried to come up with something, anything, that might fix the damage he caused. But every option felt futile. He knew words alone weren’t going to cut it this time. There was no perfect apology, and no grand gesture could undo what he did.

Hansol knew he fucked up badly, and there was no right way to fix things other than to fall at your feet and cry for forgiveness. Because losing you would be the end of his world, and didn’t want that.

Reaching over to check his phone again, Hansol stared at the screen for the millionth time, hoping that somehow this time he’d see a new notification, or at least a sign that you read his messages.

But every single text he sent sat unopened.

He let out a sharp breath and tossed the phone onto the mattress beside him, before burying his face in his hands. His palms dragged down over his face, then up into his hair, gripping the roots in frustration. His jaw clenched as he cursed under his breath. He didn’t know what to do. He never felt this lost before.

Suddenly, his phone lit up and began ringing. His heart leapt into his throat as he scrambled to get it thinking you had finally responded.

But to his disappointment, the screen read Hailey’s name instead. And he deflated instantly.

Nevertheless, he swiped to answer as he exhaled a long sigh while dragging a tired hand across his face.

“Hey,” he croaked out, voice rough from the lack of sleep. He pressed two fingers to his temple as he tried to ease the tension building in his skull.

“Hey, are you okay? You didn’t seem alright last night when you left,” Hailey’s worried voice came through the line.

Even though Hailey had been his best friend for years, Hansol wasn’t in the right headspace to talk to her about his relationship issues. Not when his thoughts were consumed by you. Maybe he was embarrassed to tell her that he messed up again. Maybe he didn’t want to tell her that she was part of the reason why this was happening. Or maybe he just didn’t want her to know every detail of his relationship with you.

He knew she meant well, and that she was only calling because she cared. But her voice, her questions, even her concern, it all just felt like noise to him. All he could focus on was the silence from your end. It was too loud. And the longer the silence stretched, the more it chipped away at him.

All Hansol needed was a sign from you. Even a simple “okay” would’ve been enough to give some sort of relief.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Something urgent came up. Sorry I left you like that,” Hansol apologised as he rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t mean to be so abrupt last night, but his heart was pounding too hard, and his thoughts were spiraling too fast to explain anything clearly.

“Is your ankle okay now?” he asked.

“It’s swollen and bruised pretty badly now compared to yesterday. But I’ve been keeping it elevated and putting on an ice pack,” Hailey replied with a subtle tinge of frustration in her voice.

“I see,” he mumbled. His mind was clearly elsewhere with the way his tone sounded so distant. There was a beat of silence before Hailey hummed in response, perhaps she sensed that his attention wasn’t fully with her.

“You think you can come over later on or when you’re free? I still need a bit of help getting around. Plus I’m really bored,” she added.

Hansol paused. Any other time, he might’ve said yes without hesitation. But not right now. He just wasn’t in the mood to meet anyone besides you. “I can’t today Hailey,” he told her, which caught her a little off guard.

“Oh. Do you have plans with Y/n or something?” she asked, sounding curious, but not surprised.

Hansol hesitated.

How could he explain that it wasn’t exactly “plans” he had with you, but rather a desperate and half-formed mission to salvage what was left of your relationship? That he was losing sleep trying to figure out how to fix what he broke? That your silence was driving him insane?

“Well…kind of,” he finally said.

There was another pause. Hailey didn’t press any further because maybe she sensed the shift in his tone, or maybe she understood more than he realised.

“I’m sorry,” Hansol muttered quietly, almost ashamed to say it out loud.

He swallowed hard before continuing. “Your parents are in town, right? I’m sure they can help out if you really need them. I just…” he trailed off.

He clenched his eyes shut as he inhaled deeply. “I messed up really badly, Hailey. And I’m trying to fix it.”

Hansol didn’t offer more. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to lie, but he also didn’t have the strength to dig through the mess he made just to explain it all over again. This was all he could manage, and he hoped it would be enough.

Hailey, thankfully, seemed to understand. “It’s okay,” she said, not pressing further. “I hope it works out.”

“I hope so too” he whispered to himself.

They both exchanged brief goodbyes, and Hansol ended the call before letting out a shaky breath. He tossed the phone onto the bed and sat there in silence.

His eyes lifted towards the mirror across the room, and grimaced at the sight of himself. His hair was disheveled, eyes were sunken from the lack of sleep, and he was still in the same wrinkled clothes from yesterday. He looked as wrecked as he felt.

A bitter laugh escaped him.

And no matter how pathetic he looked, he was going to make it right.

Somehow.

▎2 DECEMBER 2021

The first day or two without hearing from you, Hansol tried to stay calm. He told himself you just needed space and time to breathe. And he wanted to respect that, he truly did, but silence didn’t mean his heart wasn’t screaming in regret. It didn’t mean he wasn’t fighting the urge to show up at your door and fall to his knees.

So, instead, he did what he could from the distance. He texted. He called. Even knowing full well you were likely with your family, he still desperately hoped that you would answer.

But every time he tried to call, his calls would go straight to voicemail. Every time he texted, his messages remained unread. It was killing him. Every time his phone buzzed from notifications that weren't from you, it added another brick to the weight on his chest.

Still, Hansol held onto hope that you were seeing them. Maybe you were reading them from your notification center. Unless, of course, you had muted him. And the thought itself made him nauseous.

By the third day, he was falling apart.

The apartment was a mess. Takeaway boxes were littered on the counter, his clothes were still in a heap from three nights ago, and the lights stayed dim because he couldn’t find the energy to turn them on. He hadn’t left the apartment since. He barely ate and barely slept. His eyes were puffy from crying. It was something he hadn’t done in years, but now did in quiet gasps as he stared blankly at his phone screen, waiting and hoping.

Joshua wasn’t being much of a good help either. He couldn’t even offer him a sliver of peace. Every time Hansol asked about you, whether it was how you were doing or even something as simple as “Did she eat today?”, Joshua would deflect.

“She’s fine.” “She’s resting.” “I don’t know, man.” Every vague excuse was like a slap in the face. Hansol knew Joshua was doing it on purpose and that he was trying to shield you from more hurt. And to be fair, part of him didn’t blame him. But it didn’t make it any less painful.

The longer he went without hearing your voice, seeing your face, or knowing whether or not you were okay, the more it drove him toward the edge. His sanity felt like it was hanging by a single fraying thread. And that thread was you.

He couldn’t keep doing this. Not another day. Not another hour. He was going to see you one way or another.

He didn’t care if he had to wait outside your house for hours, in the rain or during the night. He didn’t care if your brother tried to shut the door in his face or if you refused to say a word. He just needed to see you. He needed to know you were still there and that you hadn’t walked away from him forever.

Because if you had, he didn’t know what he’d do.

All Hansol knew was that he wasn’t going to spend another night pacing around his apartment like a ghost and haunted by what-ifs and regrets. He was going to find you, and he wasn’t leaving until he did.

╴╴╴╴╴

“Y/n, you can’t keep silent and lock yourself away like this forever. It’s getting ridiculous now,” Joshua said with a firm voice as he stormed into your bedroom without knocking. His frustration was evident in the way his footsteps seemed heavy.

“Get your ass up and talk it out with him. I’m getting tired of all this.”

You flinched under the blanket at his tone, not because it was harsh, but because it awakened the very thing you were trying to avoid, and that was facing Hansol. Joshua stood at the foot of your bed with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed. He wasn’t angry at you, he was exhausted from watching his baby sister spiral day after day.

Joshua wasn’t just irritated. He was heartbroken for you. For Hansol, too, though he never said it aloud. He was pissed at Hansol for making you cry, rightfully, but the truth was, the silence stretched on too long. You and Hansol were both barely functioning, and Joshua had enough.

He saw how Hansol had been trying, really trying. He could see the effort he was putting to get a hold of you though he physically kept his distance to give you space. And every time Joshua gave him a vague answer, he could somehow sense Hansol’s anguish from the other. It was almost too much to bear.

Joshua let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

“I get that you’re hurt. But you can’t stay like this, Y/n. This zombie version of you? It’s not you. And it’s not helping at all, and you know it” he said.

“I’m not ready to,” you whispered, voice muffled as you tugged your blanket up to your eyes.

Joshua had no patience left for that. He strode over and yanked the blanket clean off you, forcing you to curl up tighter into yourself. You didn’t look at him, you couldn’t. The tears were already pricking the corners of your eyes.

“Then when?” he asked with a voice much sharper this time. “Seriously, when? Next week? Next month? Never?”

You stayed quiet.

His voice softened, but his next words hit you harder. “You know, if you’re this affected by what happened that night, why don’t you just spare yourself and break up with him?”

Your breath hitched as you shot your head up, shocked. The suggestion felt like a smack in the face. “What?”

“I’m serious,” Joshua continued.

“You love him, right? But this silence and shutting down, it’s hurting both of you. You’re not healing. You’re just avoiding it which doesn’t help with anything.”

You stared at him as pain swirled in your chest. “It’s not that simple,” you looked away from him.

“I know,” he said much gentler now. “But neither is loving someone. Neither is fighting for a relationship that clearly means everything to you.”

He sat down on the edge of your bed and looked at you with soft eyes. “I’m not saying forgive him right now, nor to forget what happened. But you need to face it. Talk to him. Scream at him if you need to. Just stop letting this eat you alive.”

Silence settled between you both for a long moment. You inhaled shakily, finally allowing your tears to trail silently down your cheeks.

“I don’t know what to say to him,” you admitted.

“Then start with that,” Joshua said simply. “Start with ‘I don’t know what to say.’ That’s something.”

And maybe it was.

Just then, a series of loud, abrupt knocks pounded against the front door, sharp and jarring enough to make you flinch. You shot up from your bed as your heart began to race, eyes wide as they darted toward your bedroom door. Nobody ever knocked like that, not even your angry mother when you wouldn’t open the door while having your headphones in. Given the door bell, people would’ve pressed it.

But this sounded urgent and desperate. And there was only one person you could think of who’d knock like that.

The thought of alone made your pulse quicken. Your stomach twisted as conflicting emotions battled inside you. No matter how hurt and furious you were, your heart still ached for him. Even now, after everything, it still yearned to hear his voice.

“I’ll see who that is,” Joshua said. You barely nodded as he was already moving toward the hallway.

Joshua hadn’t even fully opened the door when Hansol barged past him without a word. The younger’s breathing was heavy. His eyes were red and swollen, the bags under them were visibly dark with exhaustion. His lips were chapped, and he looked like he didn’t sleep in days. Because he didn’t.

Joshua blinked. He was stunned for half a second, before he sighed and stepped aside. He didn’t ask questions, nor did he try to stop him. It wasn’t his place anymore. He already tried everything, from comforting you to yelling at you. Even playing messenger between two people who were clearly miserable without each other. But this was out of his hands now.

With a quiet grunt, Joshua shut the door and walked away, heading to the living room and flipping on the television. He didn’t even check what channel was playing. He just needed the noise as a distraction.

This was something the two of you needed to deal with alone like grown adults. Face to face with no interruptions, and no more hiding.

And so, Joshua left the hallway silent behind him, leaving Hansol standing just a few steps away from your door with heart in his throat.

When he finally reached your bedroom, the door was wide open, thanks to Joshua who didn’t even bother closing it behind him. But either way, it left nothing between you and the person you’d been avoiding for days.

When he was suddenly in front of you, you froze completely. Your heart slammed hard against your ribs as your eyes landed on him. You didn’t know what to expect when this moment came, but it sure wasn’t this.

He stood there, his breathing ragged, fists clenched by his side and jaw locked in a way that made the muscles ripple beneath his skin. His shoulders were stiff, like he was struggling holding himself together.

Hansol looked absolutely beaten. His clothes were the same ones from that night, wrinkled and worn. His lips were trembling despite how hard he was trying to stay strong.

And you? You could barely breathe.

Seeing him like that shattered something in you. Because this wasn’t the Hansol you knew. The Hansol you knew never shattered, he was the anchor when storms hit. But now, he looked like he was barely hanging on. He looked like he was seconds away from falling apart.

Your throat constricted as the tears welling up in your eyes blurred your vision. You wanted to say something, but your lips parted and nothing came out.

“Hansol” you finally whispered as you slowly rose to your feet.

But you didn’t get to say more. In an instant, Hansol leaped forward, catching you off guard. He cupped your face roughly and before you could process it, his lips crashed into yours.

The kiss was intense that left you breathless. It wasn’t soft like how he’d always kiss you, but rather blunt and frantic. It was like he had been drowning and you were the air he needed to breathe again. He kissed you like he was starving of your touch and love. It was messy and heated, but so full of love.

You stumbled backward, but his arm shot out and wrapped around your waist to steady you. He didn’t let go, not even for a second. You stood frozen for a moment, feeling overwhelmed.

And then, your eyes fluttered shut as you kissed him back. Hard.

Your hands grasped his shirt tightly. You could feel his tears trailing down his cheeks, mixing with your own. His soft whimper against your lips shattered your heart all over again. He was crying.

Choi Hansol was actually crying.

You never saw him like this, not once. And now that you did, you wished you never pushed him to the edge like this. But more than that, you hated that he was suffering alone without you hearing him out.

You felt the way he poured everything into that kiss. The fear, the guilt, the longing, the love. It was all there, right between the quivering of his lips and the way his body pressed desperately against yours.

Without a word, you reached up to cradle his face in your hands and brushed his tear-streaked cheeks with your thumbs. He broke the kiss for a split second, and rested his forehead against yours as he tried to catch his breath.

“I’m sorry,” Hansol whimpered.

“I’m so sorry baby” he kissed you again, but this time it was slower and more fragile. You felt the kiss grow more saltier the more tears streamed down his face, and your heart couldn’t take much more.

“I’m such a fucking idiot, I know,” he mumbled breathlessly against your lips.

“I don’t even know what the hell I was thinking all those times I left you hanging. I don’t know what was going through my head when I chose to be there for someone else, when you were the one who needed me the most.”

He let out a sob that vibrated against your chest as he buried his face against your shoulder. You didn’t speak. All you could do was hold him closer with your fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt as his guilt poured out of him.

Hansol pulled away slightly, just enough to cup your face again. His thumbs gently stroked the apples of your cheeks as his red and glossy eyes locked with yours.

“You’re right,” he said. “You’re my girlfriend, for fuck’s sake. And you should feel like you are. You shouldn’t ever have to fight for my attention, or feel like you’re competing with anyone else.”

You watched the torment ripple through his expression. Every word looked like it cost him to say, but he meant them all. He needed you to know he was owning it.

“You didn’t deserve to feel like you were second,” he continued with his shaky voice. “You didn’t deserve to sit there wondering why I couldn’t show up for you the way I always did for someone else. And I hate that I made you feel that way. I hate that I didn’t see it sooner.”

You slowly brought your hands to his face, brushing your thumbs over the trails of tears on his cheeks. He leaned into your touch like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

“I— I know I try to be a good friend to Hailey,” he admitted, “but I should’ve set boundaries. Because you were right. She does have other people around her, people she can turn to besides me. I just— I guess I kept telling myself I was helping, not realising how much I was hurting you in the process.”

He shook his head. “Maybe that’s a talk I need to have with her too.”

He took another breath, but it got caught in his throat. “I just—” he paused, swallowing hard.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel like this. Even though it was never my intention, I still made you feel like a second choice. And I fucking hate myself for it.”

He dropped his hands from your face, only to wrap them around yours, the ones still resting on his cheeks. He squeezed them tightly.

“You know I love you, right?” he whispered, his voice breaking again. “That I never, ever meant to hurt you? Not on purpose. I love you more than I know how to say. So please, please give me a chance to make it right. I can’t keep going through this silence. It’s killing me baby. I swear it’s fucking killing me.”

And this time, his knees buckled as he sank to the floor, pulling you down with him.

You felt like your heart had been ripped out of your chest and crushed right in front of you. The sight of Hansol sobbing this much into your embrace was something you never thought you would witness.

You instinctively held onto him tightly like a mother cradling a child through a nightmare as the two of you slowly sank to the floor. In all the years you had known Hansol, this raw display of vulnerability was something completely foreign to you. He was always the strong one, and the rock for everyone else. Especially for you.

So to see him fall apart like this scared you.

“H-Hey, shhh,” you whispered, gently rubbing his back in slow and soothing circles. You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, another, then another.

“It’s okay, I forgive you, honey. Please stop crying,” you murmured as you were desperate to calm him down.

You tried to gently pull back to coax him into lifting his head and looking at you, but he only buried himself deeper into your chest. He kept his face hidden like he was ashamed to even be seen by you.

“Can you look at me?” you whispered, your voice cracking. But Hansol shook his head against you.

“Hansol-ie, baby, please look at me,” you said again more tenderly as you pulled out the name only his mother and you ever called him so endearingly.

And that finally did it. His body shifted as he slowly pulled himself up. He looked at you, tiredly yet with so much love and intensity.

Without a word, your hands found their way to his face. You cupped his cheeks as you brushed your thumbs gently over the wet trails. He leaned into your palms, closing his eyes and letting out a long, shaky breath.

“I’m sorry too,” you said.

Hansol opened his eyes slowly, brows furrowing in confusion. “Why are you sorry?” he asked, reaching out to hold your hands in his.

You offered him a small, halfhearted smile. “I guess I was being childish with how I acted. I shut down instead of talking to you. I pushed you away instead of letting you in.”

Hansol immediately shook his head. “No. You had every right to be upset. I was the one who broke my promise,” he said firmly, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand.

“It was all on me, not on you my love.”

He reached up to tuck a few stray strands of hair behind your ear. “Don’t blame yourself for reacting to the pain I caused.”

You swallowed hard, leaning into his touch. “But I should’ve at least told you I needed time. I shouldn’t have left you guessing like that.”

“Maybe,” he replied softly. “But I should’ve never put you in a position where you had to choose between silence or feeling like a second choice. You deserve so much better than that.”

Your eyes welled again, but this time from the overwhelming tenderness between you both.

But then you giggled softly. “I guess we’re both childish in our own ways,” you said, brushing a tear from your cheek with the back of your hand.

“Me, a stubborn and sensitive girl who shuts down instead of talking. And you, a loser, lovesick boy who’ll chase his girl no matter what.”

Hansol let out a soft laugh and he tilted his head. “And I love that beautiful, stubborn, and sensitive girl so much,” he whispered, “that I promised myself I’d chase her for her in every lifetime. No matter where, no matter when.”

Then, leaning in, he placed a gentle peck on your lips. Your smile paused, lips quivering as you tried to fight off another wave of tears. You stared into his eyes, “God, I really don’t deserve you” you whispered.

The words tumbled out of your mouth from the guilt and ache that still lingered in your chest. You pressed your lips against his again, hoping he could feel everything you didn’t know how to say.

But Hansol shook his head gently, pulling back just far enough to look you in the eyes. “No,” he said with conviction.

“It’s me who doesn’t deserve you.”

He reached up to cradle your face in both hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that slipped free. “If it were anyone else, they would’ve kicked my ass to the curb already and never looked back. But you?” he paused, his voice cracking, “You still gave me a chance. Even after everything. And I swear, I’m never taking that for granted again.”

“I promise, and I truly mean it this time,” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours, “I will never make you feel like that again.”

You let out a shaky breath. You’d never been so vulnerable like this with each other. It was so messy and so emotional.

“I hate that we hurt each other,” you whispered.

“I do too,” he said. “But if we’re going to hurt, I’d rather hurt with you than be without you.”

You rested your forehead against his, eyes closed and hands tangled in the fabric of his shirt. “We’re such a mess, aren’t we?” you chuckled through your tears.

“Yeah,” Hansol breathed, “but we’re our mess.”

You smiled softly and slowly wrapped your arms around his neck. The moment your body met his, a deep sigh left your lips as you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

Your voice came out muffled, “I love you,” you whispered against his hot skin, your lips brushing his collarbone.

Hansol let out a shaky exhale. He immediately snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. He closed his eyes as you breathed you in.

“I love you too baby. More than I can ever express,” he murmured into your ear, before tenderly kissing the top of your head.

“I’ll never hurt you again,” he whispered as he pressed his forehead against yours. “God, I’d rather die before I ever do.”

“I don’t care what it takes. I’ll spend every day proving to you.”

If anything, Vernon should be grateful that you’re going out of your way to avoid him. That way, he wouldn’t get bombarded with the secondhand embarrassment from remembering that horrible day. 

The only reason you’re here right now is because both Chan and his bride are close friends of yours, and you wouldn’t want to miss their wedding for the world. Plus, you’re also a bridesmaid. 

It was on you for blurting a disastrous confession to Vernon a few hours after the wedding rehearsal. 

But the bride and groom don’t even know that things have changed between the two of you. Given the chaos of wedding preparations, you withheld the fact that you and Vernon are going through a rough patch right now—if not the end of the friendship entirely. You didn’t want to add to their stress, but now you feel like you’re on fire. 

After all, Vernon is one of the groomsmen. What’s worse is, the wedding plans involve bridesmaids and groomsmen walking down the aisle in pairs, and you’d been placed with Vernon without a second thought. 

In other words, you’re completely screwed. 

“T-minus 20,” your friend and fellow bridesmaid Jihyo says, nudging your side. “We should go now.”

You feel a faint pulsing at the forefront of your head, a headache creeping up on you. God, what if when he sees you, he shakes his head and makes an X or something with his hands, insisting that he won’t walk down with you? What if he finds you physically embarrassing to be around, and just walks away? You’ve been running away from him all day, so it might not be a stretch to consider that he might have been trying to get away from you, too. 

You groan, scrunching the root of your hair, somewhat messing up your carefully curled hair. No, he wouldn’t just leave, that would ruin the wedding. He has too much love for Chan to do that to him. If he protests, he’d either do it subtly right before or confront you after it’s all over. 

You shut your eyes and take a deep breath. No one knows about your falling out except for you. And, well, Vernon, of course, but that’s not who you have to keep this secret from. You have to do your best to act normal and not at all like your heart is on the verge of bursting. 

“Has anyone ever died of embarrassment?” you suddenly ask, fingers dancing to find something to channel your nervous energy into. You fist a bit of the dress you’re wearing, then release it when you realize you can’t wrinkle the pretty material. “Shit.” You smooth over the fabric with shaky, sweaty hands.

“What is going on with you?” Jihyo’s eyes narrow as she looks you over. 

“I’ll tell you later,” you manage, bouncing your leg up and down. 

“Later, as in when?” 

“After the wedding,” you grit. You want to bury your face in your hands, but the expensive makeup gives you pause. You settle for lowering your head, staring listlessly at the white tiles on the ground. 

“Is this about what happened with Vernon?” 

You whip your head up. “You know?”

Jihyo slowly blinks, then deadpans, “Uh, yeah? A, both of you have been weird. The last time I saw you two not together was like, five years ago. And B, you’re literally the least subtle person I’ve ever met.”

“Oh,” you squeak, then quickly ask, “Wait, what do you think happened with Vernon?”

She stares blankly at you, as if the answer is obvious. “You confessed. He said nothing. You ran away.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, eyes growing comically large. Then, a frown replaces your shock. You don’t need to ask her how she knows. If anything, it just adds to the notion that even your other friends knew that he would’ve rejected you.

Jihyo sighs, coming over to the loveseat to sit next to you. She gives you a warm side hug, rubbing your back. “He’s a massive idiot. It’s gonna be okay. Let’s just get it together for the wedding, hmm?”

You swallow roughly, then nod. 

She continues, “Seriously, though. I’ve known Vernon for almost as long as you have. He’s not great at talking when he’s caught off guard—you know that, too.”

You blink at her words, the tiniest spark of hope igniting in your chest. But you quickly stamp it out, remembering the face he had made when you blurted out that you loved him.

Brows furrowed, open-mouthed, eyes wide, dead silent—he had to have been looking at you with disgust. That was the only way any sane person could decipher that look, really! There was no way that that face was the look of a man who was in love with you, as your friends have claimed.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say, wrinkling your mouth into a smile that anyone could tell was faked. “I’ll get through it.”

“Yeah, it’s not that deep. Just walk down the aisle with him. It’ll take 10 seconds, tops.”

You’re very sure she’s exaggerating, but you wave it off. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” she says dryly.

You glare at her. “I’ll be fine.”

“Good, that’s the right mentality,” she says, clasping your shoulders, shaking your upper body. “파이팅! [Fighting!]”

“해야지, [gotta do it,]” you mutter. 

Jihyo’s right. You’ll have to see Vernon anyway, so you might as well do it with as much dignity as you can scrap together. 

Except, the little dignity you have left demands some more time to procrastinate and linger in your regret.

Jihyo stands up from the couch, but you don’t. Your limbs feel impossibly heavy, as if they’ve been held down by a massive boulder.

You groan, “Just go without me, I’ll leave soon. I wanna go as late as possible.” 

Jihyo looks at you with what you can only describe as immense pity. “Okay. I’ll see you in five?” 

You nod numbly, watching her walk away to open the doors of the bridal suite. 

Vaguely, you can hear some absentminded chatter across the room from the hair and makeup artists, mother of the bride, and maid of honor, all crowded over the bride. It’s all but a buzz in the back of your mind, though, since you’re preoccupied with trying to convince yourself that you have it in you to face Vernon. Knowing you only have five minutes before needing to walk down the aisle with him, your mouth feels dry—too dry. 

At that realization, you force your heavy limbs to get up, then walk over the fancy rug to the table where a myriad of miscellaneous objects have been strewn about. You reach for your bag to take out your water bottle, but your hands falter when you look at the little keychain attached to the bag. 

It’s a silver charm bracelet you’ve repurposed as a bag charm. It has a turtle and retriever puppy on it, representing the animals you’ve viewed each other as being. Seeing the charms causes a pang of longing to cut deep into you, reminding you of how much you’ve missed him in the last two days. 

Could you ever forgive yourself for ruining your precious friendship? For getting too greedy, for asking for too much? 

Your hands grip the edge of the table roughly, searching for something to stabilize your body, which is dangerously teetering in the high heels you had convinced yourself you’d be able to walk properly in. You’d bought it because the color of the shoe perfectly matches your dress, but the razor thin heel is proving to be an issue. 

Subconsciously, your hand reaches out from the table corner to your bag, gently rubbing the golden retriever charm Vernon always said looked like you, and you’re hit with a sudden intense wave of sadness—but not for the confession. 

No, instead, you turn your regret to the insecure internal ramblings that have ravaged you lately. 

The earnest, bright eyes of the little puppy charm makes you conscious of the hollow ache spreading throughout your body. How could you have been so mean to your poor, fragile heart? 

Alright, maybe you and Vernon wouldn’t be friends anymore. Maybe you would have to live without seeing him ever again. 

But you’d have to live with yourself, and it wasn’t right to treat yourself like this. 

Technically, Vernon didn’t even say anything to you. He didn’t outright reject you just yet, and he certainly didn’t say you weren’t someone worthy of love. So it was completely unfair for you to jump to those conclusions yourself, putting words in his mouth. 

And most of all, it would be even more unfair to you, represented by this adorable puppy charm, to lose yourself to heartbreak. 

Straightening your back, your other hand reaches into your bag for your water bottle. Upon chugging the remainder of the water, you close your eyes, concentrating on making your pulse slow down. It works, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

You might have to live with the fallout of this confession, but you could also live with the truth. Loving Vernon wasn't a mistake, and it wouldn't feel like one, no matter how he responded. He deserved honesty, and you deserved to stand by it. Even if this was the end, you wanted to leave this part of your story knowing you'd done right by both of you. 

You nod to no one in particular, having made your mind up. After the wedding, you’ll go to him and be upfront about it all, bearing your soul to his response. 

For now, though, you’ll help him enjoy the wedding by continuing to stay out of his sight. If he can’t see you, he can’t get reminded of his need to reject you—which is important, of course, because you don’t want his memories of this wedding to be of you crying after he lets you down. 

With this renewed clarity, you steady yourself. Vernon doesn’t love you, and that’s okay. You’d do enough loving for the both of you.

────୨ৎ────

Vernon steps into the bridal suite, a thrum of nerves coursing through his veins. He’s spent the past half-hour searching for you in every nook and cranny of the venue, dodging curious glances and knowing jokes from the other groomsmen about his obvious distraction. Jihyo’s the one who finally pointed him in the right direction, murmuring something about how it’s been over five minutes, and how he’s the only one who can get you to show up.

When he sees you standing by the table, shoulders tense, your hands gripping the edge like it’s the only thing keeping you upright, his breath catches. There you are, beautiful and strong and fragile all at once, lost in your thoughts. His chest constricts. How did it come to this? How did the best thing in his life become the one thing he feels he’s on the verge of losing?

“Hey,” he says softly, taking a step forward, calling your name softly.

Your head snaps up at the sound of his voice, and the sudden movement sends you teetering in your high heels. Eyes wide, you twist toward him, your balance faltering. “Vernon?”

It happens in a split second. One of your heels trips on the edge of the rug, and you stumble forward. Vernon darts forward instinctively, grabbing you just before you hit the ground. His arms wrap around you tightly, steadying you.

For a moment, everything stops. Leaning against his chest, you can hear his heartbeat, a frantic rhythm that matches your own. God, your near face plant must have scared him a lot?

But just as you start to regain your footing, your heel accidentally digs into his foot, and he lets out a yelp of pain. 

The abrupt shift in weight sends him off balance, and the two of you tumble onto the floor in a tangled heap.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Vernon’s crazy seagull call of a laugh cuts through the tension. 

It’s infectious, and before you know it, you’re both laughing, the sound filling the room. It’s ridiculous, it’s messy, and it’s the most alive you’ve felt in days.

When your body relaxes all of its tension, you realize that you’ve missed him with every fiber of your being. That something in you has been waiting for him, like you’ve been in withdrawal without hearing his laughter in the last two days. 

You’d planned on continuing to avoid him until the end of the wedding, so that he could enjoy his night without you, but that idea is crumbling right before your eyes. You might not be able to bring yourself to stay away from him any longer. 

And then, oh, then—the laughter fades, and you realize how close you are. 

Vernon’s face is inches from yours, his warm breath fanning across your skin. His eyes, dark and soft, hold a depth of emotion that makes your stomach twist. And for a fleeting moment, you think you see something raw and unguarded in his gaze—something you’ve seen before. 

It’s how he looked when you confessed to him.

Your chest tightens, and your thoughts spiral. Is he mad, reminded of your confession? 

You scramble to put distance between you, pushing yourself off him and stepping back hastily. Too hastily, really.

“I’m so sorry,” you stammer, smoothing down the fabric of your dress as if that will somehow restore your composure. “I didn’t mean to, I swear—”

“It’s okay,” Vernon says gently, sitting up. 

He reaches an arm out for you, but you’ve already retreated several steps, an apologetic smile plastered on your face.

“We should get going,” you say, your tone overly formal. “It’s almost time.” Without waiting for his response, you turn on your heel and stride toward the door, your movements stiff and hurried.

Vernon watches you go, his hand dropping to his side. He flexes it, then exhales sharply, frustration bubbling beneath the surface of his calm exterior. 

You’re running again, and he’s running out of time to fix this. 

Pushing himself to his feet, he follows you out of the suite, his long strides easily catching up to you.

The two of you arrive at the line of bridesmaids and groomsmen just as the coordinator starts organizing everyone into pairs. You avoid Vernon’s gaze, your hands clasped tightly in front of you. 

But when it’s your turn to step forward, he’s there, holding out his hand to you. 

It shakes a little, and your breath hitches when you notice a flash of silver on his wrist. It’s a charm bracelet, and it’s unmistakably the same one you’ve kept on your bag for years, the little turtle and retriever puppy charms glinting under the soft light. 

Surely not? 

Surely, he doesn’t?

Tentatively, you place your hand in his, your fingers trembling. His grip is familiar, warm, and steady, grounding you even as your emotions threaten to overwhelm you. 

As you walk toward the aisle together, you don't look at whoever you're supposed to be looking at, whether it's the officiant or the people clapping in the crowd. Instead, your eyes are trained on the jewelry peeking out of his sleeve, and how his hand feels so soft and warm and dependable against yours. 

Then, it suddenly occurs to you that maybe, just maybe, you saw it wrong that day. Maybe he wasn’t looking at you like he was appalled by your audacity to tell him your feelings. He might have actually really been confused, allowing for you to misinterpret his surprise for rejection. 

But as soon as the thought enters your mind, you dismiss it. False hope definitely wouldn’t do anything for your precious feelings. Especially when the hope was that Vernon, of all people, would love you as much as you love him.

Desperately avoiding eye contact with the man in question, you stare straight at the bridesmaid-groomsman pair in front of you. 

If Vernon loved you back, then he’d say it. He’d show it somehow, some day. Today wasn’t that day, and that’s okay. 

You’d be alright without him, eventually. Probably. Hopefully?

With that rationale, you do your best to ignore your trembling legs, burning ears, and constricting chest. The bride and groom deserve a perfect procession, and you would play your role well. 

────୨ৎ────

It was a beautiful ceremony. And, three hours into the reception, you’re proud to say that you’ve survived. Promptly after the procession, you separated from Vernon, finding refuge within the bridesmaid group. Ever since, you’ve flitted around different tables, dancing with random people, all in the name of protecting him from seeing you. 

You’re actually incredible at avoiding people, if you do say so yourself. Every time you’ve seen Vernon within 50 feet of your vicinity, you’ve grabbed someone new to dance with or talk to. And for especially close calls, you’ve dragged Jihyo into the bathroom. 

This time, though, you’re hiding in the bathroom without her. She’d finally refused to go with you for the nth time. The brat had thrown you to the wolves, essentially. No girl code—the nerve of her!

Patting down the roots and length of your hair, which had gotten a bit frizzy, you stare at yourself blankly in the mirror, watching a shiver run down your spine from the cold air-conditioning blasting in the small space. 

Despite your efforts to calm down, a sigh escapes your mouth, your shoulders feeling far too heavy. What are you doing, hiding?

God, you love him so much. So much that you’re willing to dance around him so he doesn’t get reminded of you, so that he doesn’t worry about how to reject you all night, so that he can just enjoy the wedding. 

What even is love? 

You’ve heard that love is sacrifice, and if what you feel is really love, then, well. You’ll have to try not to love anyone but yourself from now on, because unrequited love is somewhat horrible. 

You’ll get over him someday, right? 

Right?

Before you can psych yourself out of leaving the freezing but rather safe haven that is the restroom, you march over to the door with a new mantra. You shake your shoulders and roll your neck, cracking the joints in your fingers. 

“I’ll get over it,” you murmur. “I’m over it. I’m over it! Over, over, over.” 

Pushing the door open, you continue rambling to yourself. “I’ll get over it. Over, over, over, over...”

“Over what?” comes a familiar voice.

Oh, shit.

Wide-eyed, you look up to see Vernon blocking your way past the bathroom and back into the hallway leading to the reception. 

“Oh,” you gasp, limbs frozen. your eyes flit back to the door to the women’s restroom again, contemplating ditching him cheaply (again). 

Vernon steps closer, his gaze softening as he notices your hesitation. His voice is low and gentle—too gentle—when he speaks, almost as if he’s unsure how to break the silence.

"Hey," he says softly, his hand reaching out, fingers brushing against your arm. "You don't have to hide from me, y’know."

You glance up at him, your adrenaline flowing through your veins. You want to back away, to keep putting distance between you, but something about his insistent stare makes your legs freeze.

"I know it's been awkward," Vernon continues, his words more measured now. "But I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I just—I just want to talk." He brings his right hand up to his chest, like he’s swearing that he speaks the truth. 

You shake your head, your voice trembling. "You don’t have to. I don’t want to make things worse."

Vernon furrows his brows, stepping closer, as if he can’t bear to see you pull away from him again. "You think that running away will fix it? You think I want you to hide from me?"

You swallow hard, avoiding his eyes. "I don't know. This is all new to me."

"Then let me say it.” Vernon’s voice is strangled. "I don’t want to lose you, okay? I didn’t want it to happen like this, I…” His voice trails off as he clenches his fists, shutting his eyes tightly before opening them again. “Please don’t think I shut you down, I just—I needed some time to process everything. I care about you a lot—so much more than I know how to show, sometimes. Or,” he huffs with red-rimmed eyes, “a lot of the time."

A silence settles between you, thick and heavy, but Vernon doesn’t seem to notice. He looks at you with downturned, shining eyes, and you feel your defenses slowly start to crumble. 

You’ve never seen him so devastated. 

"Come here," Vernon says softly, his arm reaching out to tug you closer, now fully clinging to your side. "Please don’t keep running. Please?” He says the last word like it’s a prayer—and, oh, is it a powerful one.

Every part of your body stiffens, caught off guard by how warm he is, then immediately relaxes at how gently he’s holding you, as if you would break if he held on any tighter.

"Please don’t run from me anymore," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. 

You think you could melt into his arms, and it takes everything within you to trust him, to not back away like you have for the past two days. With each passing second, you feel your spine relaxing and leaning into his touch. Then, in the midst of your relaxation, it occurs to you that he’s awaiting your reply.

But before you can answer his pleas, the sound of hurried footsteps echoes through the hallway. Jumping apart like fugitives before the law, you both turn to see Jihyo skidding around the corner, her face flushed with panic.

“There you are!” she exclaims, eyes wide. “The bouquet toss is about to happen! Get over here!” 

Before you can even blink, Jihyo grabs your wrist, pulling you away from the delicate warmth of Vernon’s embrace. 

“Now!” she shouts. 

You twist your back around to send him a helpless look, and all he gives you is an encouraging nod and the cutest, awkward little wave. You see the sincerity in his boyish smile, which makes your chest feel tight, as if all the air had been sucked from the room. It’s bad enough for your delicate heart. 

But then, most wickedly, you catch the adorable, anxious eagerness in his crinkled, watery eyes—and, oh. 

It really is all over for you, isn’t it?

You really won’t be able to love anyone else, will you? 

There is no “getting over” Chwe Vernon.

The last threads of your resolve crumble as you follow Jihyo. You barely register the steps that lead you back into the grand reception hall. She has a vice grip on your wrist, tugging you along with such urgency that your shoes almost trip you on the way inside. The room hums with energy, and you can’t help but feel out of place in the frenzy of people excitedly whispering and glancing toward the front.

Everyone has gathered in a semi-circle, eager faces all pointed at the bride, who is holding the bouquet high above her head. Your pulse is speeding up by the second, but it’s not for the reason the other single women are likely nervous for. All you can think about is how you’ve been dragged here with nothing but the love you have for Vernon—a deep, endless kind that threatens to burst out of you in a wildly embarrassing public display of affection.

"You're gonna be fine," Jihyo says with a grin, though it’s a little too wide, too bright. You’re not sure if she’s referring to the Vernon fiasco or the bouquet toss, but you force a smile back at her anyway.

"Sure I am," you mumble under your breath. 

She doesn’t hear you, or if she does, she doesn’t acknowledge that she heard it. She’s already turned her attention back to the bride, her arm brushing yours as she steps forward, positioning herself with the other women who are trying to catch the bouquet.

You stand awkwardly behind her at the edge of the crowd of single women, feet shuffling, heart still pounding from your conversation with Vernon.

Then, the live orchestral music shifts, and you feel a slight weight in your stomach, despite knowing the chances of the bouquet toss heading your way is slim to none. Still, it’s happening now, and you’re now on the single ladies floor, so there’s no backing out.

When you shift your back to brush away some of the hair obscuring your vision, you make eye contact with the very man who has been occupying your every thought this evening. Vernon had probably followed you and Jihyo as she pulled you away, since he’s now standing near you. And, oh, he’s close—only an arm’s distance or so away from you, standing at the front of the larger crowd. 

The closer the moment of the throw gets, the harder it is to ignore his burning presence. He’s standing with a group of other men who are watching the floor full of gorgeous, single women, but his attention is entirely on you. 

A subtle smile plays at the corners of his mouth, and the air between the two of you suddenly feels too thick. You have so much to say to him, and you don’t know how to get it all out in an eloquent way. 

But your deliberation of what to say to him is cut short by the screams announcing that the bouquet has launched into the air. 

You lift your chin up, squinting as the light of the chandeliers temporarily blinds you. By the time you blink away the flashing spots in your vision, you see the trajectory of the bouquet. 

It arcs high above the crowd of waiting women, catching the light as it spins toward the back—toward you! If you don’t move, the bouquet will crash into your face. 

Your arms instinctively reach for the flowers, reaching beyond what you’d thought was capable for yourself. But the second after your back stretches and feet jump to accommodate the move, your left heel completely gives out, sending your balance completely off-kilter.

Your arms flail uselessly as your ankle sharply twists, and the world tips sideways. The air rushes past your face, cold and sharp, and you brace yourself for impact—ready to collide utterly gracelessly with the hard floor. But before gravity can win, a pair of strong hands clamps around your waist, arresting your fall with a jarring yet steady pull.

The warmth of his touch spreads like wildfire through the thin fabric of your dress, grounding you in an instant. Vernon’s hands are firm, almost possessive, his grip both steady and urgent, like he’s afraid to let go.

Your chest presses against his, the faint thud of his heartbeat syncing with the chaotic rhythm of your own. His scent hits you next—a subtle mix of cedarwood and something distinctly him, crisp and comforting all at once. The tension in your body melts slightly as his arms secure you closer, your trembling legs finding balance in his hold.

“Hey,” he says shyly, his breath fanning across the shell of your ear. It sends a shiver down your spine, his words calming and electrifying in equal measure.

Your fingers instinctively clutch at the lapels of his jacket, the soft fabric brushing against your palms, anchoring you to reality. His thumb brushes lightly against your side, the touch barely noticeable yet searing, and the warmth from his body radiates into yours like a shield against the world.

Slowly, he adjusts his grip, one hand sliding to the small of your back, the other ghosting against your shoulder as he steadies you on your feet. The gentleness of his movements is stark against the adrenaline roaring in your ears.

When you finally look up, your breath catches. His face is so close—closer than you were when you fell in the bridal suite, closer than you’ve ever been before. Close enough to see the individual strands of his long lashes, to see the beautiful shimmer in his brown eyes. His eyes, wide and searching, lock onto yours, the emotions swirling in their dark depths rendering you speechless.

“I’ve got you,” Vernon says, his voice barely more than a whisper, but the words reverberate through you like an earthquake. “다친 데 없어? [You’re not hurt, are you?]”

You shake your head without much thought, the back of your neck and your ears burning up at how tender his touch is. 

His fingers linger at your waist, the subtle pressure of his touch still burning against your skin. Even as he pulls away just enough to give you space, the absence of his warmth feels like a loss you’re not ready to accept. Without thinking, your hand darts out, fingertips brushing against the sleeve covering the charm bracelet you saw during the procession.

And that’s when you notice the bouquet—clutched awkwardly in your other hand, its delicate petals trembling just as much as you are. The flowers are slightly askew from the near disaster, and it all comes crashing down on you. 

You wince at the ridiculous public scene you’ve made, but the smile that spreads across Vernon’s face is enough to make you forget about everything, humiliation be damned.

“Perfect,” he says softly, though you can hear the teasing edge in his voice. “You got it, princess.” 

Princess, the joke he started calling you after Disney movie marathons in which you mocked the main characters always needing men to save them—you were definitely having a princess moment right now.

Vernon reaches to brush a strand of hair out of your face, and you feel your cheeks heat from the decidedly intimate nature of his touch. 

And that’s when the room erupts. 

Cheers fill the space as the guests begin clapping, laughing, and shouting in celebration. You see Chan whistle, while his newlywed wife shouts, “Finally!” The noise surges around you, but you can’t focus on anything except the way Vernon is looking at you.

You don’t know how on earth you could have misinterpreted it before—his wide eyes, slightly furrowed brows, half-open mouth. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, and it’s suddenly clear he’s just as affected as you are. 

He’s looking at you like you’re the only one in the room, like you’re the only one he can see.

He’s looking at you in the same way you look at him.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare past his shoulders to see the waiting eyes of the entire room. It’s as though they’ve known all along, most having been there to see the constant teasing, the not-so-secret glances exchanged, and the tension that’s been building for what feels like ages. Everyone knew before you two did, really.

The realization hits you all at once, and a nervous laugh escapes you. You’re caught in the act—the act of love—and there’s no denying it. 

You exchange an uncertain look with Vernon, and something flickers in his eyes. It’s something deeper, like the three words you told him two days ago, only to be met with silence.

“Looks like it’s fate, huh?” you joke weakly, shaking the bouquet, trying to regain some control over the situation. 

But Vernon doesn’t laugh. His expression just softens, and his voice is so, so deep when he speaks, it’s barely audible over the noise of the guests. “Y’know, you don’t have to joke your way out of this.”

You swallow hard, but before you can respond, he steps closer to you, his gaze unwavering, presence overwhelming. He reaches for your hand, gently pulling it into his, where it fits just so, and the warmth of his touch sends a wave of electricity through you.

“You know I’ve been looking for you, right?” Vernon continues, his voice slightly choked, making your chest tighten. “All day. All day, yesterday and today. I’m so sorry I didn’t say anything that day. It wasn’t because I didn’t care, I do,” he pauses, tightening his grasp on you. “It’s because I care too much, really.”

Your breath hitches. What is he saying? Your brain is practically numb from the excessive overthinking you’ve been doing for the past two days. He needs to just spell it out.

“What?”

Vernon exhales a short laugh, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His hands, buried deep in his coat pockets, tense visibly as his shoulders lift slightly. “I feel like you don’t get it,” he says softly, the words teetering on the edge of vulnerability.

Your heart skips a beat. “Get what?”

He looks at you—really looks at you, staring intensely into your eyes, weighing whether or not to say the next part. His jaw tightens for a brief second, the muscle flexing as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He pulls a hand out of his pocket, raking it through his hair. His fingers linger at the nape of his neck before dropping back to his side, curling loosely as though they’re bracing for impact.

“That I’m here for you,” Vernon says, his voice barely above a whisper. He steps closer, not quite closing the distance but close enough that you can feel the addictive heat radiating off of him. “That I’ve always been here for you. And not…” He clenches and unclenches his fists. “Not just as a friend.”

Your breath hitches, and you feel his gaze flicker to your lips for the briefest moment before darting back to your eyes. His own are wide, filled with uncertainty but also a quiet kind of determination.

He shifts again, this time slipping his other hand out of his pocket and holding it out, palm up, like an offering. His fingers twitch slightly, betraying his nerves, and you notice a faint redness creeping up his neck, the telltale signs of his composure cracking.

“I didn’t say anything sooner because…” His voice trails as he bites the inside of his cheek, eyes dropping to the ground. When he looks up again, his expression is raw and completely unguarded. “Because I didn’t want to mess things up. But I can’t keep telling myself I don’t feel this way. I’m sorry I’m so late.”  

Your chest tightens as his words settle over you, finally registering the weight of them.

“Please don’t get over me,” he says all at once, breathlessly. His eyes are shining, his gaze ever so hopeful.

His hand lingers in the space between you, waiting, hoping.

“Please?”

You stare at his outstretched hand in disbelief, limbs locked by pure shock. Is this real? 

You can feel the effort it’s taking for him to stay still, his thumb twitching every few seconds like he’s fighting the urge to pull away and retreat.

When you don’t immediately respond, Vernon exhales shakily and starts to pull his hand back, his lips parting as if to apologize. 

But before he can, your fingers move instinctively, brushing against his.

The contact is brief, but it’s enough to make him freeze. His eyes snap to yours, widening as if he doesn’t quite believe what just happened. Slowly, hesitantly, his fingers curl around yours, the warmth of his touch steadying you as much as it does him.

“I mean it. I don’t want you to move on, because I love you,” he says shakily. “I’m in love with you, and I don’t know if you still feel that way for me, but… I need you to know how I feel.”

In the depths of his eyes, you see the vulnerability he’s always tried to hide, the intensity of the emotions he’s been holding back for so long.

And it’s as if the whole room vanishes, leaving just the two of you standing there. The bouquet is forgotten, and so are the guests, their cheers having long faded into the background.

Your heart feels as though it’s about to explode from your chest, but the words spill out before you can think. “I love you, too.”

Vernon brightens, eyes lighting up his, his grin stretching from ear to ear, and you fold. He’s handsome and sweet and a little awkward and brilliant—and yours.

Before your next breath, he’s leaning forward, closing the distance between you. 

His lips meet yours in a kiss so soft, so gentle, that you barely feel it at all. Impatient, you eagerly lift your chin up for more of him. Wrapping your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss—oh, is it something to live for. You never want to let go. He tastes like chocolate and feels like a dream come true—he’s your very own prince, if you’re the princess. 

It feels like the world has finally clicked into place. You and Vernon are on the same page, and it’s indescribable, really.

When the roaring in your ears subsides, you hear some wolf whistles, and you suddenly realize where you are. You barely bring yourself to pull a few inches away from him, laughing softly, and he smiles, his eyes sparkling with so, so much warmth and love. It’s all for you. And you realize that here, in his arms, you feel full. You feel so warm, so cared for.

This, this is love. 

Masterlist

Author's Note: he's a bit of a loser in this, but i think he made up for it

Disclaimer: nothing i write is representative of how svt acts off camera, take their names as stand-ins for oc's!!

you took a few steps to follow the small fish, forgetting that you weren’t there alone for a moment, too mesmerised to focus on anything else. it was nice to feel like a little kid once again, not having to worry about anything other than pretty fish and the shimmering blue and pink lights that made the whole place look like straight from a fairytale. 

“would it be corny if i said that you’re prettier?” suddenly, a deep voice pulled you out of your little bubble. 

“are you comparing me to a fish?” you fake-gasped and turned around, meeting seungcheol’s brown eyes that held a mischievous look that you grew to love so much, even though you hadn’t known each other for that long. 

his gentle laugh rippled through the air. “well, if you put it that way…”

you snickered and swatted his chest playfully. “i don’t think you’re supposed to say stuff like that on a first date, choi seungcheol.”

wonwoo

place: museum/ exhibition 

what they would do to make you feel special: takes candid photos of you (the morning after the date you get a message with the photos and a text saying “that’s how i see you” )

what they would be like taking you out: so so nervous, stutters, doesn’t know what to do with his hands, feels like he’s going to die at least five times

“click” 

you whipped your head around upon hearing the familiar sound, tearing your eyes from the painting after what felt like hours. but the exhibition wonwoo took you too was truly mesmerising, you had no idea how he found this place. 

“if you wanted to take a picture you could’ve told me,” you said, taking a step to the side. “i would’ve moved.” 

wonwoo lowered the camera, his hands slightly shaking, which in your eyes made him even more adorable than he already was. not to mention the fuzzy cardigan that made him look like the cuddliest teddy bear. 

“no, it’s… i wanted to take a photo of the painting and… and you,” he said with a gentle softness in his voice, blending in with the quiet hustle of people around you. 

“oh.”

mingyu

place: the funfair/ amusement park

what they would do to make you feel special: you know those games where you have to hit the targets to win the plushies or other stuffed animals? if you kept missing, gyu would miss as well, so you wouldn't feel like you were worse (he'd win once, though, because he'd really want to gift you a teddy bear)

what they would be like taking you out: tries his best to act cocky and smug but ends up tripping over his own feet, because he keeps staring at you too much

“i was so near, like one centimeter and i would’ve hit- oh my god, mingyu!” you exclaimed, stopping in your tracks. 

the man next to you landed on the ground with a thump, face first and all, for the third time in the span of the last two hours. 

“are you okay?” you gently placed the teddy bear your date had just gifted you on the ground, trying to keep it away from the dirt, and kneeled next to him. 

“this is really embarrassing,” he mumbled, leaning his forehead against the pavement. “i swear i’m not usually like this.” 

you shook your head, not really believing his words, because yes - maybe you didn’t know each other that well, but you’ve spent enough time together for you to know that kim mingyu was quite a clumsy person. 

“why do you keep tripping all the time?” you laughed, helping him up and brushing the dirt away. 

“you seriously don’t want to know,” mingyu answered, his face red as a tomato.

vernon

place: cinema + fast food place 

what they would do to make you feel special: buys you a small bouquet of your favourite flowers (you mentioned liking them once in passing)

what they would be like taking you out: not much changes in vernon's behaviour, completely chill and vibin' (mostly due to the fact that he's in such denial that you actually agreed to go out with him that he truly believes he's dreaming)

you stared at the small bouquet vernon was holding in his hands.

“uh, those aren’t your favorite right?” he asked when you didn’t say anything, and you didn’t fail to catch the note of disappointment in his voice. “i just probably messed up the names of the flowers. sorr-,” 

“how did you know these were my favourite?” 

“well,” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “you said once and i remembered, and… yeah.” 

“i mentioned it like once,” you said, still too shaken that he remembered such a small thing to grab the flowers from his hand. “wait, aren’t you allergic to pollen? what are you doing holding a whole bouquet?” 

you took the bouquet and hid it behind your back. 

“it won’t kill me, you know?” vernon said with a smile on his face.