MadeHell, Line.

Warnings: In-depth talk of borderline personality disorder and how it can effect relationships. Some strong language. Kissing.

Hiding things from San has always been hard. Damn near impossible, actually. After months of being attached at the hip, he prides himself on being able to anticipate a lot of your needs. It wasn't until he saw the pill bottle that you accidentally left out as a reminder to request a refill that he realized something was terribly, desperately wrong.

Over the last few days you started to slowly diminish. The usual bright and cheerful laughter that would meet him when he arrived home had grown quiet but he just thought it was getting to be that time in your cycle. He knew that you would start to withdraw and stick to yourself the closer you got to that time of the month.

Now, San knows better than to assume that all of your issues or personality differences were because of your hormonal changes. It was just small, stubble shifts that he would catch. You told him early that you were darker and tended to be on the moodier side. San never minded, his dad told him that love is never easy and if it is meant to be, it deserves the work you put into it. One thing about your boyfriend, he put in the work.

You did too, but sometimes it didn't seem like enough.

As the apartment started to grow quieter, it also grew darker, colder. You stopped pulling the blinds or curtains open to let the natural light in and you've kept the windows closed for most of not all of the day. The weather outside has been your preferred cooler temperatures for the last couple of weeks, recalling how you used to whine when he would come back and shut the windows for the night.

When he thinks about it, you are now much more active during the night, more restless. The two of you would pass out together and then wake up in a similar fashion as to how you fall asleep but now, he wakes up and you're already gone. Either having gotten up before him or not staying in bed with him at all after he fell asleep.

Recently, when he arrives home in the evenings, San finds you in your office, scrolling through something on your computer during your work hours so he would often leave you be. Your office is dark and not as organized as it usually would be. There are dishes and utensils stacked on the edge of your deck and papers everywhere. Leaving your office he would head to the kitchen and that is where he really felt the absence of you.

It remained untouched from how he would tidy it the night before. Usually, you would have come through like a tornado as you made yourself lunch during the day and then dinner for the pair of you. Pantry items, recipe books, and notes on almost every counter as you cooked. The smell of something simmering on the stove is replaced with the stale scents from air cycling through the apartment.

Tonight, San happened to arrive home earlier than usual and the house was much of the same. Dark, colder, but there was a scent of something he couldn't quite put a name too until his eyes found you sleep on the sofa in the living room. You were surrounded by notes that he recognized from your editing process and tissues. So many tissues.

The scent, if San was forced to name it, was sadness.

A light frown comes to his features and emotion washes over him so sharply he has to lean into a doorframe to remain upright. While you tried to carry on with him when he was home, any trace of your negative feelings, you shielded from him. It was something you tried to explain early on, that sometimes you have moments where you're just sad. Nothing causes it and sometimes it switches as quickly as it comes.

San got very good at cheering you up. Or so he thought because now he's questioning everything.

How long have you been silently hurting? More than your everyday, which is still too much for him.

When did it start?

Is he not around enough?

Are you unsatisfied in the relationship?

Knowing that he can't let himself spiral, San takes a deep breath and goes through the apartment to the kitchen so he can prep something for dinner. Something comforting that he can convince you to sit with him and talk because he just wants to support you, to hold you.

Before turning to open the fridge, something catches his eye. A bright orange bottle is resting on the counter. He stops and raises an eyebrow, not realizing there were any medications in the apartment outside of the over the counter things you kept for your allergies and migraines. When he lifts it to read the label, his eyes widen when it reads your name and then the drug name.

"Sannie?" Your voice is soft from behind him, no idea what he is holding in his hand. "You're home early."

He hears you shuffling closer so he turns and you can see the pill bottle in his hand. Tear filled brown eyes meet yours and you know that now is the moment you have been dreading for weeks. Your fairytale is about to end.

You're going to lose your Prince Charming.

"Jagiya, are you s-sick?" His voice breaks on the last word like he had to force it out.

Feeling your own eyes water, you take a step forward and open your mouth to start speaking but you have to shut it again. It's a couple moments before you can answer him softly, "in a way, yes. Not terminally."

Setting the bottle back down on the table, he turns to face you, not wanting to crowd you in case his presence causes you to withdraw again. "I'm not going to make you," he pauses and swallows hard before he continues. "I know I can't make you do anything but I would like for you to tell me what is going on."

One of the first things you loved about San was he never pushed you to anything. Whatever you shared about your past, your day, yourself was all on your terms. He very quickly learned that when you would shy away from a question, he should leave it alone. You would come around on your own time.

One of your first intimate nights together, San was holding you and placed a gentle kiss to your forehead before saying "I know I don't have a lot of free time but I want to give you as much of it as I can."

Months later, his promise remains the same.

"Borderline personality disorder." He watches your lips move and that is the only way he knew you said something with how little your voice sounds. Your bottom lip wobbles and your tears spill down your cheeks. He watches you take a deep breath before you repeat yourself a little louder but just as weakly. "I have borderline personality disorder and depression."

All San can do is stand there with his eyes locked on yours as his brain processes what you said. There is so much he wants to ask but he is also terrified that if he opens his mouth you'll be spooked and shut down on him again. Instead he takes a small step forward and holds his hands out. Letting you make the decision, as he always does when your mind or body are the concern.

As you look at his hand, you notice it shakes slightly. The smallest of tremors but you know him as well as he knows you. San is nervous and you know it isn't you that makes him shake, it's the thought that you'll shut him out again. Before he has the chance to lower his hand, your fingers reach up to meet his. The warmth from his palm sending a small shiver through you as you step into his already open arms. You feel his shoulders relax as he wraps himself protectively around you.

Silently he holds you as you cry into his chest, savoring the feeling of his strong arms around you. It's when one of his hands cards through your hair that you hold tighter. "What can I do?" Is what his body asks without his mouth having to verbalize anything.

The way you hold onto him, like he is your life raft in the storm, is enough of an answer for him right now. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, San holds you, resting his chin on your head before he shifts and curls himself closer. Your arms circle his waist and as you start to calm down, you feel the weight of everything returning.

Knowing what you need, his voice sounds softly. "I've got you, Jagi." Gently, San scoops you up by tucking his arm under your knees and bracing an arm under your back. Carrying you bridal style to the bedroom where he gently lays you down.

"Are you mad?"

You voice is so small, so scared and he things he has never heard you like this before. Pulling back slightly, you're eyes are watery, unfocused and he notices your bottom lip wobbles. Taking your hand in his from where it was curled in the front of his hoodie, San brings your fingers to his lips to place a gentle kiss to each of your knuckles. Something he has done almost every night since you started living together.

"Never." When you nod and tuck into yourself, San places a barely there kiss to your forehead before standing and stepping back. "I'll love you until my last breath, Jagiya."

He turns to leave and gets as afar as the doorway before he hears your reply, "I love you too, Sannie."

That night, San is the one who doesn't sleep. Looking up what borderline personality disorder is and the medication he found. He has all of this information but as he leans back, heels of his palms pressed to his eyes, things start to come together. Your symptoms and his missed signals. How your moods seemed to switch at the flip of a coin.

One he quickly recognized from when you were close to a deadline. As an editor, you're reviews are as much on a deadline as the writers are and he knew that if you take on too many projects, you tended to wear your stress on your sleeve. When you got overwhelmed, you would shut down and detach yourself from everyone in your life. Then the nightmares would start, then the insomnia, and it would end with you sleeping for a day or two once the deadline was met.

Like most serious relationships, there was talk before moving in together about your pasts and that was when you first told San that you often left before things got too serious. You explained that it had a lot to do with the fear of being left so before it got to that point, you would be the one to end things.

"What if you were in love?"

"I would break my own heart." You sipped your water and pulled your legs under yourself on the couch of your old apartment, where the two of you would congregate when he was free. "I was so scared of getting my heart broken by someone that if I did it myself, it was less impactful."

"My baby," his beautiful brown eyes held nothing but pain at the idea of you hurting yourself. His eyes glassed over as tears came to his lashes.

You took his hand and scooted closer after tabling your water cup. When you were close enough to let your legs rest on his thighs, you kissed his knuckles like he has done with you. "I don't feel that way when I am with you. Yes, the idea of you going away for extended periods of time makes me really nervous but I know we will be okay."

There was one time that you were frantically trying to find something to wear to a company dinner. He knew you struggled with how you saw yourself and while it gutted him, San's personal missions was to prove to you that you were beautiful inside and out.

Clothes where all over your bedroom and you were standing in an outfit that would have taken San to his knees if he wasn't already sitting on the bed. You caught his eyes through the mirror and before he could tell you how much he loved it, you were back into your closet tearing the garments from your body. "What? My baby, that was-" he stops when he hears you annoyed sigh.

"It didn't look right," the panic in your voice and the way he heard the tears so close to falling had San standing. "Don't come in here. Please,"

Standing rooted to the spot, San feels his heart drop. "You are beautiful in anything you choose to wear," your name comes from right outside the door. Raising an eyebrow, you turn and poke your head out, seeing him leaning against the wall beside the doorway. "You said not to come in. I didn't. I just wanted to be close regardless."

Your face fell and you were in his arms within seconds. You feel the strength in his arms as he holds you to him, the warmth of his touch and skin through the thin silk covering you. "I'm sorry, Sannie. I just don't feel like anything looks good enough. Nothing fits right. I don't have anything to wear."

"It's okay, my baby. It's okay." His fingers come into your hair and guide your head so you hear his heartbeat. The steady sound against your panic is something he has learned calms you. "We will find something or we will go get something on the way. We have time."

When he climbed into bed with you, hours later, you were still sound asleep. You had rolled to face his side of the bed, still tucked in on yourself. Unable to hold back anymore, San lets the tears flow. Softer than the breeze he feels come over him, he brushes your hair from your face. His bottom lip between his teeth to keep from disturbing you. At his touch, your face finally relaxes and you sigh like you were releasing weeks of worries from yourself.

He doesn't know he just kept a nightmare at bay for another night with that simple show of his affection and dedication to you.

Squeezing his eyes shut, San moves onto his back, tears sliding down his temples now. All the pain you silently endured while he left you to it, thinking you needed the space. Maybe if he has been home more, he would have noticed it earlier and this conversation could have been had months prior.

Tossing an arm over his eyes, his body shakes with his silent sobs as he lays beside you, feeling as if he failed you. San vows then and there to make sure you know you are never alone and that you will never have to suffer unknowingly again. The urge to pull you close is strong but he knows the last time you slept through the night (four days ago) so he refuses to ruin it.

After his cries have stopped and he's cleaned himself up, San finally crawls under the covers. It's a short time before he feels your side of the bed move and instead of the heartbreak od thinking you're getting up, you've moved closer. Closing the space for the first time in weeks. Your head tucks into your spot on his shoulder, an arm wrapping around his waist and one of your legs coiling with his.

With his emotions in his throat, he kisses your forehead gently, wraps an arm around you and whispers into the dark, "I love you. Until the last star dies, I will love you." He then rests his cheek on the top of your head and falls sleep to the sound of your breathing.

Since that night almost two months ago, things were on a steady incline. You came out of your episode a couple of days after your discussion with San about your symptoms and how they effected you. You confirmed a lot of his research and you were very pleased that he took the time to really learn and try to understand not just your disorder, but also the medications you were on.

It wasn't until dinner with the group, that you tagged along to at their insistence that you learned how you had effected San and as a whole, the group. The night was winding down and after many rounds of laughter, food and drink, San placed a kiss to your temple and excused himself. It was Yunho who actually spoke first, not out of anger but out of worry, his own eyes watery as he explained what had been going on.

"San didn't know what to do. He said once, I'm watching her slip away from me and I don't know how to hold on." He pauses, swallowing around the emotion that suddenly lodged in his throat. "You have to know he loves you with everything he is and seeing you hurt without knowing how he could help was killing him."

You look down at your hands, clutching your water cup with your own tears. None of them meant harm but until San returned to the table, they each decided to tell you how you hurt him. How you had gotten into his head and caused him to lose focus.

All of it to be ended with his very best friend, Wooyoung, his warm smile just adding to the knife in your heart. "We're so glad you decided to finally tell him what was wrong with you. Now we can all help."

You excused yourself and only after you shut the door and slide the lock into place did you notice how violently you were shaking. The breathes you were taking started coming in too quickly and you closed your eyes, resting your forehead on the door, trying to calm the racing.

When San returned, stuffing his card back into his wallet after paying, he instantly noted your demeanor. His members were talking among themselves, but he couldn't understand what they were saying. All he could hear was the soft panic of your silence. Sliding into his seat next to you, his arm curls around you and he knows that something has triggered you.

Your body is tense and there is a soft tremor to your shoulders. Silently he seethes at how his members didn't notice the change in you but he did ask them not to bring anything up about your disorder so he can't allow himself to be too mad. San leans in and places a soft kiss to your temple before whispering a gentle, "let's go home."

As if your body is on auto pilot you stand, say goodbye without meeting anyone's eyes, and follow San out the front door. Silently, you thank San for getting you out of there with a squeeze to his hand. It was getting harder and harder to hold the tidal waves of tears that you knew were coming.

Except, nothing came. No tears, no shouting. Nothing.

Until the idea that you were doing more harm that good filtered through your conscious thoughts. You were laying in bed after finally submitting the last manuscript edit you had due for the time being, your hands resting on your stomach as you stared at the ceiling, watching the way the light changed as the sun moved across the sky.

Your mind just kept bringing up conversations from the dinner a few minutes ago. Somewhere you screamed that you knew none of it was meant to hurt you but the voices of how you distracted, hurt, and caused more stress for San than he needed. Somehow you convinced yourself that you were going to end up alone. No matter how hard either of you held on, it wasn't enough.

You weren't worth it.

You loved him enough to know that he did not deserve what you were putting him through. You loved him enough to know that this was it. Closing your eyes, you roll onto your side and cry as you tear apart the fairytale you never should have had. Your heart shattering with every cry that leaves you.

Arms curling around you cause you to jolt from your slumber. Blinking rapidly, you realize how itchy your eyes feel and how stuffy your face is. You can smell San's body wash coming off of him and you sigh softly, leaning back into his warmth.

"Missed you today." His nose tickles the skin under your ear and it take everything in you to not pull away.

"I missed you too, Sannie." Your hands caress the smooth skin of his arms, still amazed at the strength. "You sound sleepy."

A low hum comes from him as he holds you closer, "so sleepy."

"Get some sleep, love." You feel your broken heart fully shatter moments later when you turn to gaze at his face.

San falls asleep quickly when it is comeback preparation time. The guys all work from early morning to way too late and when he falls into bed, he's usually out before his head hits the pillow. Which was the case this evening. He'd barely gotten through his shower and pulled on some boxers before he was in bed.

You're perfect fairytale Prince Charming.

The idea of hurting him anymore crushes you but it is something you know you have to do. It's for him. San will find someone deserving of his time, effort, attention, and love. He will find someone who can give it all back to him without having to worry about their moods or how certain situations can be triggering. Someone who won't cause him as much pain as you do.

As you did.

Caressing the curve of his eyebrow, cut of his cheekbone, and the slope of his jaw, with your thumb softly, you lean forward and place a gentle kiss to his lips. "I love you, San. More than anything. Until the last star in the sky dies, I will love you."

The softest sound leaves him and his arms pull you closer, tucking you into his chest. One more night. That is all you will give yourself before you finish breaking your heart to save his.

"I love you too," your name is whispered in his sleep but you can an hear the smile on his lips as he snuggles into the blankets, pulling you deeper into their comfort.

"Jagiya?"

Freezing instantly to the spot, your heart drops to the floor. Your back is to the bedroom door as you were reaching to get a couple more items from the closet before you started stuffing items into your suitcase. You hadn't even heard the door open or close.

"You're early." Is all you find yourself able to say, leaving the two sweaters in the closet before turning around.

San isn't looking at you.

The chaos that is currently on the bed is where he is looking. You have two suitcases, one closed and the other half full. One carryon bag unzipped because the cardigan you chose is too large for the bag to hold your current manuscripts, laptop, and a couple other work essentials and the knitted object. Your purse and a backpack also take up residency. Following his gaze, you see where he is staring at your passport sticking out of the carryon.

"Wh-at," he starts but stops. He swallows hard around the pain in his throat before he looks up at you. It must be in eyes because instantly his face crumbles. "Jagiya, no, ple-ease."

"San, I can't." Your voice is soft but after many years of experience, there is no emotion.

"Is it because of me?" His voice waivers as he steps closer but stops. His hand reaches out and catches himself on the dresser, the remaining items that rest on its surface shifting with the impact. "Jagi, what happened? I thought-t," his voice breaks but he stops, confusion all over his features.

"You didn't do anything." You offer him a small smile. "You were perfect. I'm not doing this because of you. I'm doing it for you." When his eyes finally leave you, it is because they close, his tears slipping free as his head tilts to the ceiling. "You'll be okay, Sannie." Mentally you smack yourself for the term of endearment.

A few moments of the two of you standing, unmoving pass before his broken voice finally sounds in the silence. "You don't get to make that choice for me." When his eyes meet yours once again, they're pained but you see the stern determination the unmovable mountain that is your boyfriend. "I choose you. I choose this life, everything. My choice is you."

You hold your hands up and nod, "I know but at the dinner some things were-"

His face hardens instantly and you know that was a bad idea to bring it back up. You never told him anyone said anything, you just mentioned a deadline and he let it go. "Who." There is no question.

"San, it doesn't-,"

"It fucking matters!" He never raises his voice at you so when his emotions burst forth, you jolted only slightly. He exhaled hard, inhaled slowly, and when he spoke again, it was more controlled. "Jagiya, it matters when you're trying to leave me because of something someone said without any idea what the fuck they are talking about."

"They knew enough to be thankful I finally let you in, San. I'm not mad at them so you shouldn't be either."

"Who opened their fucking mouths."

You shake your head this time, "I'm not telling you but you didn't tell me how badly I was effecting you. Messing up choreo, missing schedules."

"You never told me you were hurting!" One of hands come to his heart and he fists the material of his shirt, "I didn't know what to do. I was losing you and I couldn't fix it."

"Exactly! You don't need this!" You motion to yourself and then look back at him. "You need someone who isn't going to worry you or make you feel helpless."

"I need you!"

"No, San,"

"No!" This time when he moves, he starts unpacking your bags for you. All you can do is watch as he empties the first bag, still talking to you. "You do not get to walk out that door because you 'think' I deserve anything different." He moves to the second bag, his eyes moving up to see you still in the same place. "You are my choice. Our life together."

"San,"

"You're not leaving." After the first two bags, he knows now that fighting for you was not in your plan. So he continues. Abandoning the unpacking, he comes around the end of the bed, his steps determined as if he can see you starting to waver. "It's not going to be easy, I know this."

"So why torture yourself? You've been through enough, Sannie." When the endearment slips once again, he knows the worst is over.

Gently, he cups your cheeks and tilts your face up so your eyes meet his. "I only felt like that because I didn't know what to do. Now I know and we can get through this. We will get through it, together."

"You deserve only good things, Sannie. I'm not. You're seriously the sweetest and the best boyfriend a girl could ask for."

"Then why are you trying to leave?"

"Because I am the undeserving one," you break off with a sob. "I'm not good for you."

"You are my reward for all my hard work." His voice is gentle and it wraps around you like the best blanket. "My life, here with you."

"Sannie, I can't promise to be stable minded. I can't predict when my next episode will be. Please, you have done so much for me, let me protect you from this."

"This? Jagiya, the 'this' you are talking about is you. The love of my life, please. I will be with you on the good days and the bad." His thumbs swipe the tears from your cheeks softly. "Let me show you."

"I can't believe you."

"What is it?"

"I'm mentally unstable and you are choosing to stay with me for the foreseeable future."

"You're so much stronger than you think, Jagiya. Besides, you're more stable than most people I know." He smiles when a giggle bubbles up from you and gives your lips a soft peck when you pout. "Please don't be mad at them. They love you and thought they were helping."

"I just hate that they made you feel bad."

"I feel bad a lot, Sannie."

"And that is why I am here to make it all better."

You smile into him and nod, squeezing him softly. "I'm so, sorry."

"You just have to finish putting this all away on your own as punishment." You scoff and pinch him softly. "We are okay, Jagi. You get your things put back, I will shower and we can order food and watch our show."

The overwhelming panic and sadness has been replaced by the warmth from his unconditional love. The tears that fill your eyes are of gratitude. Getting to your tip toes, you press your lips to his in hopes that it will convey at least half of how thankful you are for the man in your arms. Cradling your head as he returns the kiss, San makes sure to leave you breathless before stepping back.

"I know you love me, Jagiya." He smiles, dimples on display as he backs up into the bathroom. "I love you too."

you’re mid-chew, texting, when you feel satoru materialize behind you. that and the rustling of his plastic bags give him away . his chin hooks over your shoulder, breath warm against your ear.

“gum?”

you nod, not looking up. “yeah. want a piece?”

“mm.” his voice drops. “already have one.”

before you can ask what that means, satoru’s hand cups your jaw—gentle and firm—and turns your face toward him. he doesn’t ask. he doesn’t warn. he just leans in.

he kisses you slow and deliberate. you reciprocate after a moment, a motion mostly on instinct, which ends up giving him the right access. his tongue slides past your lips, not to deepen it, but to sweep.

satoru coaxes the gum from your mouth with an infuriatingly skilled curl of his tongue, pulling it into his own mouth with a soft, wet sound that has no right to make your stomach feel that way.

he pulls back and chews, his dimples showing as an unapologetic grin spreads across his face.

“mint,” he hums, like he’s tasting a fine wine. “good choice.”

you’re frozen, face burning and brain short-circuiting.

he plucks the slick gum from his own mouth and presses it back to your lips with two fingers. “open.”

you do. pathetically.

satoru pushes it past your teeth, taps your chin to close your mouth, and pats your cheek like you’re a good pet.

“now we match,” he says sweetly. “shared flavor. shared spit. shared everything.”

then he turns, waves at the cashier, and strolls out of the store front like he didn’t just ruin you in public.

ii. later during dinner, you both are eating something disgustingly sticky together—honey-glazed chicken wings and melted s'mores, because satoru having zero self-control around sugar is nothing new.

your hands are messy. his hands are a crime scene.

you see him eyeing your hoodie. that soft, oversized, perfect fit that you love more than life itself.

“don’t.”

satoru freezes, hand hovering. eyes wide and innocent.

“don’t what?”

“don’t wipe those fingers on me, satoru. i swear to god—”

satoru gasps, offended. “i'd never.”

you stare. satoru holds your gaze. too long. then, with the exaggerated deliberation of a man performing a magic trick, he slowly—so slowly—wipes both hands down the front of his own white t-shirt.

dark streaks bloom across the fabric. he looks down at the mess, then back up at you.

“see?” he beams. “respectful. courteous. boyfriend of the year.”

you blink. “you literally just ruined your shirt.”

“my sacrifice.” he clutches his chest dramatically. “anything for you, my love. i would never defile your sacred hoodie. i would rather die.”

then he opens his arms wide.

“now. hug.”

“no.”

“hug.”

“satoru, your entire front is—”

satoru doesn’t wait. he lunges, wraps his sticky, honey-drenched, s'more-crusted arms around you and squeezes. his open palms find your back. your shoulders. you try to save your hair.

you feel the tacky residue transfer. everywhere.

when he finally takes mercy and pulls back, both the front and back is a disaster of regret. and he’s grinning as if he contributed to your life in such a meaningful way.

“looks good,” satoru says, tucking a sticky strand of hair behind your ear as you continue to scowl. he inspects the honey smeared across your hoodie with genuine satisfaction.

“perfect.”

“perfect?”

“now everyone will know we hugged.”

“Hey… Jisungie?” You greeted, sitting up to place your attention entirely on your boyfriend. 

He doesn’t say anything back yet, just sitting on the couch with his hands moving frantically. The box was ripped open for him to lift out a… smaller box? But why does it look familiar? Hang on, that’s your group’s album box! The latest one too! 

“It’s here! It’s finally here! After waiting a whole week!” He chimed out. “Please, please, please!” 

“Seriously Jisung? I could have gotten you one for free?” 

“Shhhh shhh! This is part of the experience that a boyfriend should have to support his girlfriend!” 

So you let him have his moment. You watched him look excitedly through the album’s book, examine the CDs that come with it, as well as the other little merchandise included in the package. But the most important item of all are the photocards for him. 

“Please…?” He pleaded, closing his eyes as he lifted the two photocards in the air. “W-Who did I get?” 

“Me.” 

“REALLY?! ON BOTH CARDS?!” He beamed, turning the cards around to look at them himself. “Yes! Thank you universe!” 

“Jisung, you know you could’ve asked?” 

“Hey! You also buy our album packages too! It’s only fair! I want to experience the same excitement.” 

“I guess?” You shrugged. 

“Now sign please! I want your autograph!” 

“... You can’t be serious, Baby?” 

“Oh I’m very serious! If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you my growing collection.” 

“... YOU HAVE A COLLECTION OF MY GROUP’S MERCHANDISE?!" 

“EXCUSE ME BUT YOU DON’T?!”

You never understood the metaphor of ‘melting’ in a relationship until you met Kim Seungmin. 

It is no secret to anyone that you have that man wrapped around your finger. Seungmin loved you way before the two of you became official, but only then did his infatuation become that much more apparent. 

Once the two of you started dating, Seungmin never bothered once to hide his love for you. Why would he? He finally scored the girl that he had been longing for since the moment Hyunjin introduced you two years ago. 

It’s almost become an inside-joke with the boys. The moment you walk into a room, Seungmin zones in on you and only you — he can’t even hear the obnoxious kissing noises the boys are making to tease him. Cartoonishly, his eyes glaze over with adoration — you swear you can see hearts in his eyes if you look close enough. Then, when you place your hand on his, he submits completely: ‘melting’ in ways you only knew to be fictional. 

You hadn’t planned to visit Seungmin today. While it was your day off, you knew that your boyfriend had a very packed schedule as he prepared for the new comeback and upcoming performances. 

Unfortunately, you couldn’t ignore the nagging voice in your head that practically begged for some Seungmin-time — even if it was simply a passing moment. Ultimately, you decided to do a coffee run for the boys. You’re sure they will appreciate the gesture regardless of the true intent behind your actions. 

This is definitely not the first time you have done mini deliveries to mask your desire for time with your boyfriend. Thankfully, this makes ordering so much easier. By now, you practically remembered each member’s order better than your own (Seungmin always made fun of you for being so indecisive). 

With nine drinks in tow, you made determined, but cautious, steps toward the practice room. While the drink carrier you had was assisting you tremendously, the last thing that you wanted to do was bump into a wall and watch ₩74,000 hit the floor. 

You couldn’t help the small smile that crept upon your face the moment you heard familiar laughter down the hall. While it wasn’t clear exactly what had happened, you’re sure the muffled noises coming from the practice room was a result of Minho scolding another boy for messing up the routine. That was a comedic scene that you had seen one too many times. 

Just as you reach the door to the practice room, you hear the backtrack for one of their newer songs start to play. You haven’t had the chance to see any of the new choreography, so you honestly aren’t even sure if it’s okay for you to step inside. However, you figure that it’s worth the risk, knowing that Chan would immediately wrap things up if it were truly confidential. 

With practiced skill and full hands, you open the door with your elbow, shimmying your way into the practice room. At first, nobody seems to notice that you have snuck in other than a staff member whom you were familiar with. She gave you a gentle smile and quietly helped you unload the variety of drinks in your hands. 

Finally free, you lean against the wall and watch the boys move in sync with one another, their bodies perfectly swaying alongside the rhythm of the track playing in the background. With one move, Felix turns on his heel and notices you hanging out in the corner of the room. As you wave, he politely smiles back. Yet, when his eyes drift from you to the pile of drinks to your right, his smile is immediately replaced with a look of relief. 

“You are such a lifesaver, Y/N,” Felix sighs just as he goes to turn once more, never once missing a beat. Immediately, you take note of the way that your boyfriend’s ears perk up. 

“Y/N’s here?” Seungmin’s voice is laced with excitement as he twists his body to find you. 

Unfortunately for the poor boy, his excitement overpowered his agile coordination. Misplacing one of his steps, Seungmin unsuccessfully ends his twirl by crossing his ankles and ultimately landing flat on his face. A loud smack is heard as his head makes contact with the hardwood flooring. Everyone in the room stops their movements and stares in disbelief. 

“Dude, are you okay?” Han crouches down to meet Seungmin on the floor. 

When Seungmin only musters a faint grunt in response to Han’s question, you decide to rush over to check in on your clumsy boyfriend. Kneeling in front of Seungmin’s sprawled out figure, you gently run your fingers through his hair; you’re cautious as you aren’t sure how hurt he truly is. 

When he feels the familiar sensation of your fingers soothingly scratching his scalp, Seungmin faintly lifts his head. Though his eyebrows are scrunched from pain, his eyes light up the moment they lock onto yours. 

“Hi, baby,” Seungmin says through pouty lips. At this moment, he looks identical to a sad puppy, his eyes being the only sign that he is actually ecstatic to see you. 

“Are you okay, Min? You took quite the fall there.” Your voice is laced with concern as you move your hand to caress his jaw. When you lift his head to assess the damage, you notice his cheekbone already turning a bright shade of red from the impact. Rather than wincing in pain as your free hand traces the injured part of his face, Seungmin simply melts into your embrace, a small smile adorning his lips as he closes his eyes with content. 

“I guess you could say that I am head over heels for you,” Seungmin quips, earning a groan from the other seven boys in the room. 

“Did he really—?”

“I can’t believe this mutt.”

“He is demonstrably down bad.” 

As the boys are expressing their own disbeliefs to this ridiculous situation, Jeongin steps forward and lightly kicks Seungmin in the butt. 

“Yah! You almost took me down with you. Learn to control yourself around your woman,” Jeongin complained, but you could hear the teasing tone in his voice. 

Instead of responding, Seungmin simply flips over and lays his head on your thighs. Upon seeing how red his face was, the boys each shared winces and gasps. 

“I think that it’s time for a break,” Chan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Seungmin, you’re going home for the day.”

“Oh no…Boss is putting me in time out,” Seungmin manages to quip, but immediately winces when he tries to look Chan’s way. 

“Alright, I am taking you home before you hurt yourself again,” you stifle a laugh at the blissful look on his face. 

“Oh, God,” Hyunjin faintly moans in the background, “Thank you so much for the treats Y/N-ah.” Everyone laughs at how Hyunjin is too fascinated by his coffee to be concerned for his member. 

“Maybe you can use Seungmin’s americano to soothe that welt growing on his face,” Minho snickers. 

“Welt?” There was a tinge of concern in Seungmin’s voice. 

“Don’t listen to him, pup,” you comforted him even though you knew that he would eventually have some swelling on his face from the fall. 

“That’s it – you’re done. No more pet-names. Skidaddle before I get sick,” Jeongin dramatically shooed the two of you away with a giant frown upon his face. 

“The fox is just jealous,” Seungmin said as if Jeongin couldn’t hear him loud and clear. 

Rolling your eyes at the comical, offended look on Jeongin’s face, you decide to make a plan to get Seungmin off of the floor so the two of you can head home. 

With a little bit of a struggle, and some help from Chan, you two made it home safely. Seungmin was now resting in bed with an icepack pressed against his cheek. You had gone to get him a glass of water when you heard pitiful whines come from the bedroom. Concerned, you rushed in to check on your boyfriend. 

“Are you okay, angel?” you ask, setting his water on the nightstand before assessing his face. 

“Why did you leave me?” he pouted. 

“Is that why you were whining?” you scoffed at the ridiculousness of your needy boyfriend. “I was just getting you some water, goob.”

“Mmm, I don’t need water. I just need you,” Seungmin smirked, reaching out to tug you back in bed. 

“Nuh-uh,” you tsked, “Not until you get these painkillers in your system.” 

Seungmin pouted but eventually gave in to the princess treatment. Only after you saw him swallow his pills did you crawl back into bed with him. Legs tangled together, Seungmin laid his non-injured cheek on your chest and snuggled closer to your side. 

The two of you stayed just like that for about an hour before Seungmin moved again. Sitting up slightly, Min took the now melted ice pack off of his cheek and placed it on the nightstand. His face definitely looked better, but his cheekbones were still slightly pink. You watched as he ran his fingers against the cold, numb parts of his cheek where the ice once was. 

“You feeling okay, baby?” you checked on him, pushing the hair away from his forehead. 

“Yeah. I am feeling a lot better than earlier; thanks to you,” Seungmin reassured with a smile. 

"Really? I was going to offer to kiss it better,” you teased, watching the gears shift in his head. 

“Oh — I am actually dying, then.” You burst out laughing at his antics. 

“You’re dying?” you rolled your eyes, deciding to play along. 

“Mhm,” he nodded before pointing to his lips, “You should start your treatment here, please.” 

“What would you ever do without me?” you smirk before leaning in to capture his lips with your own. Seungmin softens into the kiss, slightly pouting when you pull away. 

“I’d simply die, Y/N. Speaking of which, it is going to take a lot more where that came from to fully heal me. Unless you want me to wither away," Seungmin dramatically sighed as he placed a hand against his forehead, feigning severe illness. 

“You are a fool,” you chuckle at the serious look on his face.

“Maybe, but I am your fool,” Seungmin agrees through puppy-dog eyes and a giant smile. 

“How many kisses does this fool need to be healed, exactly?” you joke, loving the way his facade breaks once more at your words. 

“I’ll tell you when to stop,” he decides, trying to mask his excitement with a smug face. The moment that your lips met his cheek, that smug expression went away. 

As you peppered his face with kisses, one thing was clear: Seungmin was exactly where he wanted to be.

and for you, the truth of this arranged marriage with him keeps crawling behind you like a vice, religiously. as far as to dreamland, even. a place where the world was supposed to be a non-existent truth, not where the fact of life keeps strangling you breathless.

for what it's worth, the reality of it has cut through you for as long as you've breathed, with his last name weighing on your shoulder. 

on some days, it feels as if it's gently reminding you of the consequence of marrying someone whose heart will always be confined behind his ribcage. as well as the price of attempting to tie your soul to another, who will never let his be in the palm of your longing hands.

for all the love you own, the realization of it has the wind stealing the air off your lungs, and it was undoubtedly the start of your nearing end.

when you found a picture of that woman in his wallet on some lonely night, no words had let itself free out of the cage that's your lips, as it's shut tight from where you had stitched it with a thread made from your infinite love. and the night breeze that day, were witnessed on how deadly was the silence, by you. a to-be-forevermore stillness from you, to the strongest one.

an anniversary present given by a wife to her husband, dedicated solely to the cursed marriage she believes he's shackled to.

she‘s a beautiful, enchanting woman, you may so for yourself. you've heard people describe her as a gentle soul with a poise demeanor; a perfect match for the man who's always searching for someone to keep him grounded, someone to keep him tethered to the reality that consistently screws him up.

gentle always followed after your name, too. but not like hers, never will be—something you compare yourself to every so often, while you let yourself drown in your reflection on the mirror—as it’s a different form of gentleness. the kind that someone who‘s, undoubtedly, be the one who satoru devoted his love and soul to.

a woman who doesn't smell like death is calling her name.

the woman in the picture is whose existence you've become sensitively aware of after the engagement happened. after all that whispers? no matter how hard you try, it lingers. it follows your every step alike the smell of cigarette, which often seeps into someone's clothes and scents like dirty ashtray. a smell that deserves to be one with the soil, from how rancid it is.

‘don't you think it's tragic? both gojo and that woman. having to end it all for his duty.’

‘perhaps. it's expected, i may say. no matter how high on the top satoru gojo is, no matter how much privilege being the strongest gave him— they always find a way to make him bend over the rules.’

‘seriously, you two are not giving the fiancee enough credit! imagine being her … a total nightmare. i would cry myself to sleep every single day, if i were her.’

even after many seasons have passed, you still find it in you of the nightmare, that is the ability to recite those words in your sleep. it‘s suffocating, truly. the truth of how your arranged marriage still chases you down, even when you‘re unconscious, is something that has you opening your eyes in startle night after night, with dread haunting all of your burning senses.

“satoru, who … is she?”

his whole body tensed. there was no name drop, no picture— nothing. only a question with no identification of who you were referring to. however, satoru understands in a heartbeat whose existence you were suggesting, as if there's no soul except hers. while you, on the other hand, can feel the way your heart drops to the ground, before it shattered as he muttered the answer.

"… a ghost of my past.” 

the way that sentence left in-between his lips was more than enough to send you buried six-feet-under, if you were allowed to be truthful. his tone, a softness you've never heard before, was taunting you. it almost came across your ringing ears as a mocking on where you stand in his world. not from him. it's a calling by the universe itself.

and it sends chills right through your body, as if the grim reaper is brushing their scythe right by your pulse.

you really did take away his life, his freedom. no, worst. you've taken away their love and crushed it by existing. the sight of him—a husband who owns your heart without knowing—keeps bringing you back to the one undeniable truth: each breath you take is evidence of how satoru gojo life is no longer vivid of love, but monotone from the misery that is your marriage.

 “ah. sh— she's really pretty.” your statement was pure, no malice hidden behind it. she is a beautiful human being. still, despite your own words, you can feel how the world starts crumbling into ruins under your feet.

you didn't pester him after the reality was laid upon you like a misfortune. instead, you continue acting as the lovingly doting wife you always been, all the while a void started to grow in you. a void which is all-consuming. and in the midst of your spiraling, a promise for him was made from the deepest part of your soul and heart.

even if the man can‘t hear it, you promise with your life that he'll own his life.

it wasn't surprising when the next day everything in the house was clean and tidy. a perfectness expected from you, as a housewife. no trace of you was seen in the place you arrogantly called home, for time and again.

that was one of your last acts of love for the man, who'll always be the reason for your pounding heart. soon to be halting, with all the love pouring from it. an act of sparing him from your strangling existence he was forced to have; sparing him from the longing and pain of what-if, as well as what-could-have-been, with her.

his clothes were all stacked thoughtfully in the closet. the fridge and pantry is filled with everything he loves. all of his necessities that were near empty have been stocked up, by your caring tendencies. the delicate hands of yours had also prepared his usual meal plan, for the last time. everything you've done over and over like breathing, was finally seeing an end.

and that night, for your last act of love as his wife and someone who loves him far too consuming— you‘ll give him the freedom he always yearns for. an unshackling from what he never should have to tolerate, you.

satoru, the light of my life,

the glass was held firmly on your trembling hand, as you slowly brought the rim of it towards your awaiting parting lips. your intense gaze, slightly wavering, was capturing the sight of how the liquid starts to run dry from your glass, down to your throat as it slowly flame you from the inside.

for everything we’ve shared and all the things you've done for me, i really, really thank you.

under your touch, the glass had let itself slip and shatter against the cold tiles; crashing against your shared bedroom floor, as it echoes through the silence, while your body stumbles around before eventually falling hitting the solid ground.

no matter what anyone says you‘re my favorite, and will always be.

in the emptiness of the house that was never yours to live, no one was there to watch how the froth started forming in your mouth like the beginning of an end. the sounds of your strangle breath that engulfed the room was, undeniably, aching to hear— filled with defeat, helpless, and somewhere in the back, a sense of relief.

i truly have no regrets in this life, other than holding you back from the life you dream and deserve. a life where you know nothing but laughter and endless joy, with your loved one.

your body that was uncontrollably shaking as it takes in the source of satoru‘s freedom, had finally come to a halt. one might say that it was an act of kindness from the grim reaper, for how they have seen you suffer enough with the selfless act, based on a love you never had the privilege of confessing to.

these past few months of being your wife have brought me a happiness that no one had ever given me. truly. a happiness i'm sure the maggots will be jealous of, when i'm finally erased out of this world.

a pair of bright eyes, ones which were always searching for his ocean blue eyes—the one you find yourself diving in every time— were dull and drained of color, by the end of the day, as it stares empty at the endless darkness it often greets.

i‘m sorry for all of the mess and pain i've caused you, satoru. never once in my life have the thought of hurting you ever crossed my mind. so, please … have a good life after this, will you?

on your shared bed, a letter is laid as it waits for the owner to come pick it up, and read the life-changing words written on it. your wedding ring was placed neatly, tucked in its box side-by-side with the letter on the bed. the proof of the end of the marriage was waiting for him, as well as the rightful owner of the ring, to wear it.

i love you, my light, my sirius. with the very little that i am, i hope you'll never get tired of shining your light my way, even when i've become one with the soil.

even though you'll never see the way his face bathes in sunlight, when the morning comes anymore— you‘re relieved that the end of your life is the new start of his, the freedom that you promised to him. and you're someone who always, always, keeps their words no matter how devouring it is to fulfill some words arranged.

for you, i‘m letting go.

after all, even if the world turns upside-down, you know his love and soul were never yours to keep.

( ✦ ) @besidesjustmyamour @httpskrys @1stmagnoila @vegasbabyyyy @mariteez @babybitchy12 @violetpurplez @scaraslover @ritsatoru @enouche @wh1ms1soul @raendarkfaerie @bakugouswaif @mellyie @angelita-uchiha @vamqyx @luvleixo @iam-souless @taylorissogoofy @liveforkny @cruziival72 @buhchira @jennyistrendy @fushiguroooozzz @sovaintilla @fxckinbreathe @neutralizeeverymaninsight @loowyinsixeyes @withersworld @bunnydoeprincesspink @daddyaremi @whispers-of-aurora @sexykissesss @nanahach1

Park Seonghwa, someone you deemed must’ve lived comfortably under a rock, to not know who you are. Not in an arrogant manner but out of surprise. It’s not everyday, you meet someone who doesn’t have a single clue who you are. But that was honestly a breath of fresh air. Since your transfer, you and Seonghwa have been put on many of the same missions. The two of you didn’t click right away but when you did, wow was that magical. 

Within six months, he got down on one knee and proposed to you. What better answer could you give then a big loud yes! Your wedding was small and private just the way the two of you liked and preferred. However, not even three months later within your marriage did tragedy strike. 

The two of you got assigned to another mission. No big deal. Everything was going great until one little misstep. You and Seonghwa successfully stole a brief case full of top secret information, you two ran for it. Alarms were blaring, men were running the two of you. It’s only when you reached the rooftop did Seonghwa face the worst moment of his life.

There was a helicopter waiting for the two of you on the landing pad, you handed him the brief case. Seonghwa thought nothing of it as he got in but… you didn’t. Instead, you slid the door shut, locked it from the outside, and gave the sign to the pilot to go. The pilot does as instructed, causing Seonghwa to scream. 

“S-Stop! STOP! What do you think you’re doing! We can’t leave her!” Seonghwa shouted, trying to break open the door but it didn't budge. 

Then BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! 

Three loud gunshots rang into the air. 

He looked through the small helicopter door’s window to see you lay flat on the ground, motionless with a pool of blood around your stiffening body. 

“NOOOOOOO!” 

PRESENT TIME

“W-Why? Why didn’t you tell me?” Seonghwa cried within his car, parked by the edge of an ocean. 

His hands harshly gripped onto the steering wheel, he leans ahead, breathing heavily as the memories of that night haunt him. You didn’t say or show him anything. He had just discovered from a fellow agent that you were told to sacrifice yourself for the sake of Seonghwa surviving and for the information to be successfully retrieved. If only he knew, he would have sacrificed himself without question. 

Now he’s sitting here, all alone, crying his heart out. 

“I miss you, Baby… I miss you everyday. It’s not the same with you.” 

It was then that the moon rose and a quick whip of light passed, likely a shooting star. 

“Please visit me in my dreams, at least let me hold there…”